#and plugged it into the wrong day on accident?

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best

[lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber]

But not when you're around || carmen berzatto x reader

pairing -> carmen berzatto x gn!reader (no use of pronouns)

trope -> hurt/comfort

warnings -> just carmen and his problems then a SHIT ton of fluff at the end

notes -> finally made myself write which makes me happy :]

reblogs and comments are much obliged :]

——————————————-

The worst moment for a chef is when they taste a dish that they have made a hundred times and it doesn’t taste right, like they added something by accident but they don’t know what. The chef goes on autopilot because they’ve made this so many times that the recipe is ingrained in their head, their own scrawling handwriting on the back of their eyelids. It leads them to question everything. Every choice they’ve ever made, every ingredient they put in, every stir of their spoon. Soon, it leads to more and more accidents because they are trying to be careful. They want to do it so well that it ends up turning into more of a mess. 

There were so many things wrong with Carmen that at this point, no one tried to help him. Plenty tried. Plenty failed. He simply pushed everyone away, falling into himself more and more. Throwing himself into his craft. He earned award after award. Accolade after accolade. It was never enough. He was never enough. He was never good enough. Everything was in the fight against ever acknowledging his own brokenness. It was all in the pursuit of fixing something that was not ever the problem in the first place. He tried in vain to fix other things around him just to feel some semblance of that healing inside of him. 

He was irreparably damaged. He was not about to fix himself and he was convinced no one could do it for him. Never accepted help, always saying that all he needed to do was perfect whatever he was working on. Never getting into a relationship for fear of fucking them up as well. Pushing others away for fear that once they get close enough, once they saw his scarred, battered, broken, bleeding heart, they would leave. This fear drove him. Drove him to greatness in the eyes of others. Drove him to be better than everyone else. Drove him to drown out the voices in his head with everything out. Drove him to isolate himself in fear of harming others.

Like lighting a fire to warm someone else’s hands and getting your own burnt in the process. 

But not when you’re around. It’s like every time you look at him, something is healing inside him. Something he had, time and time again, said wasn’t broken in the first place. Every time you silently hold him while he tries to keep himself from breaking down in front of people. You are the best thing that has ever happened to him. He regularly jokes that you’re his savior but inside, deep down, he knows that is exactly what he believes. Every day that he wakes up and realizes that you are still here and haven’t left him is saving him little by little. Slowly he’ll open up, trust him that it isn’t easy for him to talk about his issues because as much as he yells about everyone’s mistakes, he doesn’t ever want to be a burden, if there is an opportunity for him not to tell you his shit, he won’t. Still, there are some more vulnerable nights where he will just start talking about his childhood while he cooks you both dinner. Whenever you’re around him, it’s like someone has plugged him into some unending source of ambient power, it doesn’t surge and it doesn’t falter. 

Even if it’s just sitting there and letting him rant on and on about what went wrong that day, he’ll be secretly very happy that you did it. Physical affection is something that he does not associate with actual love so something small like playing with his hair at the beginning is good. He worries that he’ll never be good enough but someone, at some point, told him to find evidence against his thoughts and whenever he thinks of that, he thinks of you. You gently hugging his free arm while he cooks, the gentle kisses you leave on his temples when he says he needs space, just the way you look at him, like he’s the most important person in the world. He has trouble sleeping so after you arrived in his life, he focuses on your breath. The steady in and out calms him, reminds him that you’re still here, that you still love him (which he thinks is insane and will remind you that he thinks it’s absolutely fuckin’ bonkers that you love him), that you find him attractive (handsome even!), that you’ll be here in the morning, that you’ll be there to tug on the back of his shirt in vain attempts to get him to stay in bed just a little while longer because Richie won’t miss him too much right? He knows he’ll always do five more minutes. Ten more minutes. 15 more minutes. 

You are one of the best things in Carmy’s life. Slowly but surely, he is fixing parts of himself just so that he can be better for you, and not just you, for his family, his staff, his friends, his customers, for himself. You just existing in his sphere brings him calm, a calm that no one else can give him. 

Besides calling you his savior, he also calls you sunshine. The sun is always there. It’s always right where he needs it to be. It doesn’t need to be all bright and perfect all the time, sometimes clouds cover it but everyone knows it's there and just its presence can lift a person’s mood (something he learned from Sydney awhile back and he still sarcastically/honestly tells Richie when he is being an ass). Being around you has the same effect. It’s like the world stops being crazy. Like you told whoever is in charge up there in the sky to let Carmy have a good day. 

He cherishes that more than anything. He cherishes you more than anything.

The best moment for a chef is when they try to make something new and it comes out just the way they wanted it, or even better than they expected. For once, he tried letting someone into his life and letting them deal with all of his fuck-up-y-ness. It was, and always will be, the best decision he had ever made.

——————————————-

taglist: @answer2jeff @birminghamshelbyboys @wormswurld @sexyyounglatinoboy @atrwriting

[deleteddewewted]

Breaking news! Pro heroine calls boyfriend daddy in public!

You can choose who, and whether on accident or purpose

Hawks x Fem! Reader

NSFW

W: Fem! Reader, Hawks, Teasing, Hawks does have butt feathers, he's silky smooth, Fingering, Public Sex, Daddy kink, Sub! Hawks, Dom! Reader

If you'd like to support my work (Check my Ko-fi and Throne!)

You had been teasing him since early morning. He woke up hard as a rock and wanted to fuck it out of his system but you had him punished for his misbehavior the day prior. You didn't grant him relief, just stimulation. You let him fuck between your thighs but didn't let him cum. You told that if he wanted he could wear a cock ring and plug if it made it any easier on him. He agreed and he promised he would be good today since he wanted to so desperately fuck you.

"Baby you dont get it. I need you. I don't think I can go the entire day without touching or even rubbing one out at the thought of you." He whined. He had his arms wrapped around you, his head placed in between your neck and shoulder.

You were standing outside and were taking a break from patrolling so he could mope. The original plan was to grab something to eat but he decide he wanted to just stand around and whine about how cruel you were to him.

"Continue with that attitude and you won't get to cum till tomorrow night, baby." He groaned at your remark and just kept his mouth quiet.

A group of fans flacked up to you and asked for autographs and photos. Neither of you denied them their requests, the attention was good for PR since being seen out and about as a couple would help solidify your relationship publicly.

"H/n! Whats it like to date the #2 hero?"

"Are the rumors true? Does the carpet match the drapes when it comes to Hawks?"

"Do you both ever plan to marry?" Multiple people shouted out at the same time, many of them insistently demanding an answer.

You merely shook your head and laughed to yourself about how ridiculous the entire thing was. But you decided that maybe you could use this opportunity to have some fun. Maybe mess with Hawks since no one truly knew what he was like in regards to his personal life.

"I can assure you that, daddy here, has the prettiest butt feathers anyone has ever seen." You joked.

The crowd all began to squeal at the new, but fake, information about your boyfriend and proceeded to ask even more questions. Some caught on to your use of the name "daddy" and insisted you talk about what other pet names you had for each other.

Typically, a coming like this would have him squawking out at you or at the person who made the comment but he stayed silent. Instead, when you turned your head to face him you noticed his face was bright red. He coughed and excused himself but not before you noticed that he had grown a bulge. You held in a laugh before excusing yourself from the crowd and following closely behind Hawks.

"Oooh birdie~. Where are you~?" You teased.

Hawks flapped his wings at the petname before sending you a glare and proceeding to walk away from you.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" You knew that shiver that ran down his spine wasn't from the wind.

You got closer to him, grabbed him by his jacket, and made sure to press him against the closest wall. He let out a gasp as the rough surface met his back and whimpered when you pressed your knee against his crotch.

"Come on, Daddy~. Tell me what's bothering you." You started to kiss his neck and opened up his pants zipper so your hand could slip in.

"Fu-ck~." He couldn't help but groan as you began to stroke him.

He rolled his hips towards your hand and whined when you teased his tip with the top of your finger. You pulled down his pants and underwear and spat on your hand before wrapping it around his now-exposed length. He tried closing his legs, the cold air making goosebumps appear on his skin, but you didn't allow him to. Instead, you made sure to push them further apart and used your free hand to slowly circle and prode his hole.

"Baby, please~ I can't- I'm gonna cum if you keep touching me like that." His voice shook as he spoke but he didn't stop you.

You finally inserted a finger inside of him and slowly pushed it in and out of him all while you slowly kissed up his neck and eventually his lips.

"Fuck~, please. Mommy, please~" He felt his eyes roll back all while you continued to fuck him open with your fingers. You swallowed all of his moans and whined as you kissed him, at some point shoving your tongue into his mouth just to get him to quiet down.

You added a third finger once you knew he was close to cumming and vigorously trusted them inside him. He choked on his own moans and scratched at your back as he tried stabilizing himself. His legs gave out under him and used you to support himself up. He felt so good as he felt your fingers curl inside him and rub against his inner walls.

"Come on, Daddy. I know you can be good and cum for me." You pulled at the feathers above his ass and watched as he let out a scream.

You added one last finger and thrust it as deep as his body would let you. He came all over himself, his clothes, and the wall he was leaning on. His legs shook and gave out beneath him as you took them out of him.

"You did such agood job for me, Daddy~" You chuckled as you watched him struggle to catch his breath and dress himself. His pants were ruined and there was no way for him to walk out without people knowing what had just happened between you two.

[sehodreams]

Plus size idol has a bad attitude and a chip on her shoulder because she made it in an industry where the odds are against her. She’s the kind of idol who proudly thinks “I got on this stage because of talent, not because of daddy’s money (Anton), plastic surgery (Wonbin), or steroids (Sungchan)”

Dark please.

Hi, sorry for taking so long, I had to change my phone that suddenly DIED and then I wrote one but didn't like it, I hope this one is a bit better, I struggled a bit with my words idk why, but I hope you like it!

BITCH

TW and tags: foursome, dark!idol!Anton, dark!idol!Sungchan and dark!idol!Wonbin x idol!plus size!reader, a bit of cum eating, cum play, no p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), noncon, a touch of choking (like always), munch!Anton, god Idk what else please if you don't like dark content don't read.

WC: 4.9k sorry again

They didn't know how to describe their relationship with you, you were just... Such a bitch.

They tried to be on your good side, knowing how much influence you had on the industry.

You were an excellent artist, a good writer and singer, even a good actor, but God, they hated you so much.

They didn't believe the others when they told them to be careful with you, how could you ever do something wrong to them? You had those cute cheeks and that sweet smile on cameras, you treated your staff good and even directors loved you, so punctual and organized, always doing your best.

But with them, you would critic every little mistake they did.

First you had to share a waiting room out of the blue, theirs had a problem with the plugs and they needed to get their hair done, so they went to yours. You smiled when their manager talked to you, "oh don't worry, it's always a pleasure for me to be helpful!" Their manager got charmed by you instantly, thanking you many times before they could go in.

It was a chaotic day, having to get ready even faster than normal, everyone walking around and moving things, when suddenly they heard a crash.

Everyone looked at it, Wonbin had pushed a flower pot by accident and it got all your fan letters wet. You looked at it surprised, not knowing what to say, and Wonbin's ears got red instantly, embarrassed to the core. He bowed many times, apologizing, and you stopped him with your hand. "Accidents happen" you smiled.

All of them got up their seats and apologized at the same time. Their manager ran to ask for a hairdryer to one stylist that had gone out.

When you and the boys were alone, in silence, you spoke again. "Fucking rookies" you spat. All of them looked at you surprised by your tone. Your whole face had changed, your sweet camera smile nowhere to be found.

"We're really sorry" Shotaro, as the eldest, apologized again.

"Shut up, I don't want to heard any of you anymore, I'm tired of all your obnoxious voices" you were sitting in front of them. All of them standing with their heads down. "Do you think I'm a joke? Why did you think you could all run around as if it was your playground?"

They could feel the heat coming out of you, your voice making them feel small, tiny, as if they were nothing.

Their manager came back and started to dry the letters, you smiled and told him to not mind, they were just paper, they'd get dry on their own. "She's such a good person" the manager said later, hopeful eyes filled with emotion, touched by your kindness. They didn't dare to say what happened, just nodding.

Their second meeting was even worse. Anton's father was in the same show with you and they saw you on TV talking with him. "Please take care of him when you see him" he smiled, the exact same eyes that their maknae had. You replied immediately "oh please don't worry, I've met him already, he's such a sweet and respectful boy, I can see how much effort you've put into making him a great person" it had to be an accident what happened last time, you talked so good about one of their members on tv, caring and soft words were the only things that came out of you, maybe it was just a bad day, they thought.

When they met you in another program they knocked your door, everyone with their best smiles and a bouquet to apologize for what happened last time. One member of your staff opened the door, they could see you inside wearing a pretty pink gown, getting your hair done to the presentation in a couple of hours.

You lifted your eyes from your phone and looked to them. "Can you leave us alone a second?" You asked your staff, all of them left, leaving you alone. Maybe you would apologize to them too, right? "What did I tell you last time? I can see you're all stupid enough to come and bother me again" your glossy lips said smoothly, as if you were singing. They couldn't help but look at you, pink robe showing your legs, your hair up, neck naked, and your honey lips moving, spitting harsh words like a praise. "I guess you have no idea how to respect your seniors, you're lucky I'm a good one, but don't ever come here unannounced again, and this is my last warning, the next time I'll fucking kill you"

They left the flowers and went back to their room. No one said anything, but they all thought the same thing, "bitch".

When the show finished and they were leaving they saw some cleaning ladies pushing trash carts, their flowers showing on top of one, over a bunch of plastic bottles and makeup wipes.

At least they agreed on one thing, to never bother you again. However, what they didn't expect was the collaboration the company arranged with a couple of singers, you being one of them.

You'd be on one of their tracks that you'd write and produce.

Anton, Sungchan and Wonbin were the choosen ones, the others exhaled, feeling grateful to not being paired with you, and feeling sorry for the boys that would work with you.

They talked a lot about it, how would they behave in front of you, not talking unless they were asked to, not contradicting you and not even maintaining eye contact with you for too long, anything to work in peace and finish the job as fast as possible.

They couldn't deny how good of an artist you were, all your songs hits and your fandom making noise every time you arrived to shows.

It was unusual for a girl like you to be an idol, a big girl, your face was quite slim, but your thick legs and full chest always caught attention. Still, you were loved by many and they respected that.

And they liked it too.

"Hi boys, is such a pleasure to work with you, I hope we get a hit!" You laughed and raised your hand, cheering for them. Their manager smiled, wiped for you, while they smiled shyly, afraid of shifting the energy in the room if they weren't careful.

You all went to the recording room, alone there, you sat on the only chair, claiming your position, and they had to sit on the little couch behind you. You showed them your notes and told them your ideas for the song, a love song like usual. They nodded and agreed to everything you said.

If you said the sky was green and the grass blue, they would go along with you.

"I thought you were stupid only in front of me, but it seems you're like that all the time" you said after half an hour being together. They couldn't nod this time. "You're so useless, I don't know why would they make me work with you, some fucking rookies" you walked to grab your bag and pulled a box of cigarettes, everyone focus on your figure walking, appreciating your bubbly ass that showed through your yoga leggings and oversized t-shirt that tried to covered it but rolled over it. Then, when they saw you put the cigarette between your lips and search for a lighter, they looked at each other. It was prohibited to smoke there, but how could they defy you? "I'm sick of everyone disrespecting me, I got here after so much, you have no idea what I've been through to get here" you laughed sourly, "well, of course you don't know about it, I got here because of talent, not because of daddy’s money, plastic surgery, or steroids" the room started to get hot, their faces couldn't hide the irritation anymore, they perfectly knew who were you referring with your words but preferred to stay silent, biting their own tongue "and yet I feel like they continue laughing at me, making me their favorite joke" you slowly exhaled the smoke, not directing your eyes to them, as if you were talking to yourself.

They were exhausted, exhausted of you insulting them, critiquing them for everything, and doing their best to not snap.

"You really have no shame" Wonbin broke the silence after a long minute. "Talking like that, acting like big shit, and I guess that's why everybody laughs at you, trying to act big when you're just a fat bitch" he stood up and walked to you, the other two looked at him alarmed, shocked by the outburst. You, sitting, crossed your legs and exhaled a long line of smoke, maintaining eye contact with the talking boy, with a blank expression.

He smirked, seeing you sitting down there you were only a common girl, without no one on your side, and he felt like he could do anything to you. You felt that, you saw it on his face, you could recognize that expression anywhere, conceited, power hungry, resented. Then, he suddenly felt his hand burning, quickly moving it away. The other two jumped and walked to him, checking the mark your cigarette had left on his pale hand.

"What is wrong with you?!" Anton asked, shocked with your impulse. "You hurt him!"

Sungchan grabbed a cold water bottle from the mini fridge and pressed it against the burn spot. When he moved it away Wonbin checked his hand better, there was a small red spot getting darker because of the ash. He inspected it for a long time, too astonished, then after not much thinking he walked to the door and pressed the secure. The other two followed him with their eyes, holding their breath, waiting for what was gonna happen next.

You didn't waver, set on not appearing weak in front of those three rookies.

"I think you forgot something" he talked, hand on the door handle "You, at the end of the day, are just one girl, and we'll always be stronger than you" he turned his face to you, ears red again, but not from embarrassment this time, from rage.

You, in that exact moment, knew you'd get hurt too.

You gave him a sided smile, "do whatever you want, I'll fucking end your careers after I get out of here"

You saw the younger one put himself between Wonbin and you, as a wall, protecting you. "Hyung, let's talk about this, don't do anything careless" he tried to stop him, the other gave you a glance and then moved his attention to the taller one. "We can get on serious problems"

"We're already on serious problems, it doesn't matter what we do now, she's gonna talk around, we can say goodbye to any deal now" Sungchan, who remained on one side, finally talked.

"You too? What the hell are you thinking?" Anton didn't know what to do, he was displeased too, but going so far hadn't crossed his mind.

"I think this bitch needs a lesson, if we don't give it to her now, she's gonna continue acting like this with others" he grabbed Anton's shoulders and made him turn to you, you were still on your place, frowning, not having were to go, expecting the younger one to help you escape, but when Wonbin whispered to his ear, you knew it was over "look at her, she's not regretful at all, and if we don't do it now, someone else is gonna do it later"

Anton agreed with that, someone was gonna teach you a lesson at some point, and it better be them, right?

When Anton's eyes wandered around your body, hips and thighs bigger on that chair, chest so full it was slightly spilling over your bra, he decided this was a job they had to do.

The job he wanted to do.

Sungchan saw the conviction on Anton's eyes, and when his lips slightly parted, the two older boys smiled. "You can have the first taste" Wonbin pushed him closer to you.

A chill ran down your legs, "move, now" you stood up and ordered the younger one. The three of them were in front of you, all of them taller, you had to lift your head to look at them in the eyes, you had never felt so small in your life. When they saw you there, cornered, eyes up and hands shaking, with the same fucking bossy expression, as if you had any power there, they snickered.

Wonbin nodded to Sungchan, who instantly understood what the other wanted. The two of them caught your arms and made you sit on your chair again. Anton was in front of you, still doubting, not knowing what to do.

"Stop right now! Let me go!" You demanded and squirmed, trying to get yourself free.

"Don't move so much, it's gonna happen you want it or not, no one is gonna help you, there are no cameras here to not leak content, and the whole room is soundproof" you felt yourself get weaker with Wonbin's words, your lips started to quiver and your eyes tried to soften the youngest so he could help you. You looked at him with your most helpless eyes, pleading for help. He sighed, and you saw his face change, desire starting to show on it.

"Come on, you need to pacify her now, if you don't she'll be all feisty later" Sungchan laughed. Wonbin knew he'd need a little help, so he lifted your t-shirt and pulled down your bra, your full tits bounced with the rough movement and the maknae's eyes couldn't leave you, tongue wetting his lips. You were about to scream when Wonbin made you bite your shirt to maintain it up, and then he covered your mouth so you wouldn't spit it. Sungchan decided to move to the back of the chair, grabbing both your arms with one hand.

Your full chest was there, in front of their eyes. Your tits were perfect for all of them, so big and full, your nipples were bigger than what they had ever seen, but they still liked them, all round and calling for them to get a taste.

Sadly, the two older ones needed the youngest to be on board, so he'd have the privilege of the first taste.

Anton kneeled in front of you, his big hands went first to your waist, to see how much he could hold, and then they started to roam up, holding the weight of your tits with his hands before he gave you a look. You didn't move, your eyes were getting a bit wet, but you tried to keep an stoic aspect, strong as always. He didn't waste any more time and gave them a good lick, moaning to himself. They felt so good on his tongue his eyebrows frown. They were soft, easy to handle, and he had to enjoy it as much as he could.

He kept licking them, his tongue playing with one of your nipples while one of his hands molded the other, pinching your little bud every now and then. He played with both of them like that for a good time, making you feel more and more wet with time, you still felt bad, kind of sick of the way he seemed to enjoy it so much, making eye contact until you couldn't and decided to lift your gaze.

Big error, you saw the expression on the visual boy, smiling, proud of his member working you so well, and felt worse.

You shook your head and tried to kick him to get away, but the young boy was so strong he pushed his weight into your thighs so you didn't interrupt his activity.

"Come on, do something else, we don't have all day" Sungchan talked behind you. Anton found the strength he needed to pull apart from your tits and touched your thighs, watching you with a drunk expression. Your nipples were hard, glistening with his saliva, begging to receive more attention, but he couldn't monopolize you.

"Pull down her pants" Anton, after Wonbin ordered him, started to pull down your pants and your panties, slowly, trying to see as much of you as he could to remember it later. Your soft and thick thighs showed a couple of marks because of their size, but he followed the way they pushed against the velvet seat and thought how good they would feel around his face.

And your pussy, god, so plump and wet, he made you open your legs, lifting one over the chair arm, and saw your sweet pussy shine, like honey pouring down, he thought, wanting to taste you.

"Can I..." Anton mumbled.

"Do it" Wonbin encouraged him. Anton didn't need more, he opened your lips with his fingers and saw how precious you looked down there, then he pressed his flat tongue onto your clit, eyes closed and almost rolling of how good you tasted.

He slurped, the wet sounds echoing in the room made everything more dirty and the two other boys felt their tips tingle, dying for their turn.

"Shit, she's dripping" Sungchan said, the sound of your pussy was so dirty his head started to get numb, and when you let your head fell because of the stimulation, looking up and catching each others eyes, he couldn't resist it and with his free hand squeezed your tit. He wanted to kiss you, push his tongue into your mouth, but you were still biting your shirt. You squirmed, overstimulated with his little touches over your sensitive nipples and the other boy eating the life out of you.

"Are you gonna be a good girl now?" Wonbin asked on your side, you moved your eyes to him and nodded, not being able to talk because of the shirt he made you bit. "Good" he let your mouth free and stripped your t-shirt off.

You felt the cold air touch your naked body and slightly shivered.

You screamed, a clear and loud "Fuck you". Wonbin slapped you, shaking your whole body. You stayed there, mute, feeling your cheek sting, and decided to just stay silent from that moment on. You couldn't afford to get hurt, you had job to do later, and tomorrow, and the next day. The boy slurping your juices hadn't even noticed the other hurt you, too concentrated on his dessert.

"Can I kiss her now?" Sungchan asked, polite and eager, after seeing you cry in silence, but calm. Wonbin nodded and Sungchan grabbed your chin to make your head fall again and kiss you, softly at first, then deeper. Your tongue felt like velvet against his, soft and wet, smooth, like the seat you were dripping on. He couldn't contain himself anymore, he stopped kissing you and pulled down his zipper and his underwear, just enough for his dick to bounce in front of your face, moving his hand up and down his member. Your lipgloss was smudged around your mouth and you looked up to him with dull eyes, death, and distracted with the boy between your legs, trying to contain the sounds that wanted to escape, you couldn't let them know how much stimulated you were.

You were so close, your hole started to beg for something to fill it, but of course you'd never say it. You're eyes were unfocused and, after a couple of minutes containing them, pretty moans started to leave your lips. "Wait, wait, please" you begged, with your singing voice, it sounded like an echo, music to their ears.

You didn't want to cum, you couldn't get more humiliated, not more.

"Move" Wonbin pushed Anton's head away of you. You sighed, glad the boy helped you resist. You were wrong, he pushed Anton to occupy that spot, eating you even harder, with his thumb poking your entrance.

"That's not fair, I wanted her to cum on my mouth" Anton protested and tried to push the older boy "I deserve her orgasm"

"Shut up, you were about to cum faster than her" Sungchan laughed, still jerking off in front of your face. The image of your dumb face and open lips making those sounds was enough to drive him crazy.

"Hyung please let me, I'll let you put your dick first, I swear" Anton pleaded. Wonbin didn't want to, but he had a soft spot for the youngest, so he moved away and let him finish you. Your hands were free now, hanging yourself on your seat, trying to calm yourself, but when the boy pushed his face onto your entrance you had to grab something else, so you grabbed his hair, hard, wanting to hurt him as much as they hurt you.

It had the opposite effect. Your pussy dripping, with your hands pulling his hair, made him insane. He rubbed his dick against your free leg, and when your hands painfully pulled his hair with force and your pussy spammed around Wonbin's fingers, he came. While he was cumming he didn't stop slurping, drinking your orgasm like a thirsty man.

Sungchan moved his dick to your lips, touching it with the tip. You were still drunk on the feeling, trying to recollect yourself, when Sungchan decided it was a good idea to cum on your face. His cum fell onto your lips, and he moved it around your mouth, smearing it over the rest of your lipgloss.

"You have two options, what do you want to do, do you want me to fuck your pussy or to fuck your mouth?" Wonbin said putting his hand around your neck, making you look at him in the eyes. Sungchan had decided to sit on the couch to recover, and Anton on the floor, next to you and caressing your thigh, also trying to catch his breath, but focusing more in his fingers drawing on your skin.

You didn't want to choose, the cum on your mouth tasted like shit and your legs hurt, you only wanted it to end and go home, but you could see in the eyes of the boys that they wanted a lot more of you.

Tears started to flow out of your eyes, one by one, falling down your eyes, which made Wonbin smile more, giving you a peck on the lips Sungchan had dirtied with his orgasm.

"I want to go, please, I'm tired" you cried. Anton's hand got tighter on your leg and Wonbin's hand too, around your throat. You wanted to cough, not being able to breath.

"She's been good, I think she deserves a kiss and to go home" Anton said with a sweet tone, low.

"Well, I think she deserves one more orgasm" Sungchan smiled at you, proud of his work.

"You both say that because you got to cum, but what about me?" Wonbin was defensive, his hand kept squeezen your throat and your eyes burned.

"Then you can use her mouth, but not her hole, if one fuckes her, everyone fucks her, deal?" Sungchan said with authority. Wonbin scoffed at the sudden lider.

"You've heard him, you have no option now" Wonbin was quickly to pull down his underwear, the time was running out and they had an schedule after their session with you. What would happen next? They didn't care. They knew, when they saw the fear in your eyes, that you'd never talk about this. Three rookies fucking you? Who would believe you? Were you trying to brag around that you fucked those gorgeous men?

His grip around your neck got loose. You coughed and he let you catch your breath. He knew you'd need that air when he was fucking your mouth, because he was going to fuck it properly, like a bitch like you deserved.

He made you kneel in front of him, grabbing your arm and pushing you to the floor. It hurt your knees, you made a painful noise and Anton side-eyed him, not liking how he treated you. "Don't do that again, those are not the kind of marks we should leave on her" Anton, on your side, held your hair with care and moved it out of your face so you could be more comfortable.

"Why do you care so much how we treat her?" Sungchan bluffed.

"She's mine too, and I like to take care of my things" he cleaned your tears with his thumbs, caressing your chin and giving you a look full of love. He smiled at you, not showing his teeth, but sweet enough to make you warm.

And you hated that.

"Anton-ah, help me, please" you sobbed. He nodded.

"Of course honey, one more orgasm, right?" He answered, making you cry harder.

"Now say ahh" Wonbin grabbed your hair and made you sit back in your knees. You had to hold yourself with one hand behind you, your tummy and thick thighs completely showing. You were almost completely naked, only your usual expensive jewelry on your neck and wrist.

Those golden jewels look so good on you, all naked and glowing. Your face was sweaty and had cum around your mouth, filthy, contrasting with your gold necklace with a little heart around your throat.

Wonbin licked his lips and pushed the tip of his cock in front of you. You had no option than to leave a little kiss on it, closing your eyes to not look at him.

He had a pretty cock, pink with a red tip, as if even it was angry and trying to break you. You licked it as much as you could, covering the left part of it with your pretty hand with the bracelet tingling.

Anton held your hair to help you, and when he moved his eyes down your chest to your thighs he couldn't help but pay attention to your pretty tummy, a little pouch over your chubby and pretty pussy. His free hand started to touch your clit, gently at first, but then, second by second, he started to want more, and at some point, when Wonbin pushed your mouth over his whole dick, tired of your lame work, he pushed two fingers inside you, distracting you. "You're doing such a good job" he praised you.

Sungchan got enough, he situated behind you again, pushing his cock to your lower back and kissing your cheek and pinching both nipples between his fingers. "Cum one more time, just one more" he begged.

It was too much, you wanted to cream but your mouth was busy with Wonbin's cock. Your eyes cried and cried, and muffled sounds stayed on your mouth.

After minutes that seemed to never end, when Wonbin was about to cum, he pushed your head out of his cock, jerking in front of you. You couldn't think, shaking with Anton's fingers inside you and the tension forming in your stomach.

"Stop!" You tried to remove his fingers out of you, feeling something close. A strong orgasm, the strongest you've ever had on your life.

Sungchan, still rubbing his dick with your back, left your tits alone and grabbed your waist, making you fuck yourself against Anton's fingers.

You yelled after a minute, coming hard as never. A liquid poured over Anton's hand and leaked to the floor wood, making a little pod. At the same time Sungchan came over your back, and Wonbin over your beautiful chest, with white drops falling all around, one drop over your heart necklace.

You shook and fell onto Sungchan's arms. He held you, giving you a soft kiss on your temple. "Good girl" he appreciated.

You closed your eyes, about to pass out, trying to breath normally again, but opened them again after you felt a sting on your chest, almost near your collarbone, hissing of pain. "This is a gift, so you never forget what happens if you don't behave" Wonbin kissed your cheek. He had burned you with a different cigarette, one he had just smoked.

Anton pushed his hand away. "I told you to not hurt her" he was mad with Wonbin's action, hugging your side and giving you a kiss on your other cheek to comfort you.

You cried and hugged the youngest, big and warm, comforting you like a little girl.

Anton and Sungchan helped you to get dressed. Your thighs were a mess and they were looking for something to help you get clean when they heard knocking over the door.

The three of them looked at each other alarmed, it was impossible to hide you or the mess they had done.

Wonbin decided to give face and make the people on the other side of the door leave. He opened it, trusting the other two to cover you.

Eunseok was there, looking a bit tired. "We have to go, manager says that..." He looked inside the room. It was impossible to not understand what happened, the smell of sex and orgasms was too strong, and the boys were glowing, clearly satisfied.

You stood up and ran to the door, not leaving time enough for the bigger boys to hide you. "Get me out of here, now!" You demanded. You weren't wearing pants and he could see how fucked you were, hair dirty and smelly, face smeared of gloss and what he recognized as semen.

"What the- what have you done?!" He was terrified, holding your hands inside his. You threw yourself into his arms, shaking, "Really guys? Without me?"

All the boys in the room smiled with the cry that came out of you.

Such a bitch, they thought.

[8-rae-rae-8]

Price Agere HCs!!

•Scared of complete darkness, he keeps a nightlight plugged in both in his office and his room

•Plastic utensils only, the metal ones are heavy and scrape his teeth wrong

•Chews on the ends of his sleeves, and or his fingers

•Somehow, it's not a fight to get him to eat veggies

•The bigger the clothes the smaller he's feeling. He keeps clothes that are too big for him, simply because it feels safe to be covered by all the fabric

•He needs help with lots of things. For instance, he needs to be reminded to eat or use the bathroom. He hasn't had any accidents, but he gets scared he might

•Absolutely refuses baths, showers only (but he usually wants help with his hair)

•He doesn't like the way pacis feel on his beard, so he uses teething toys instead

•STIMS. SO MUCH STIMMING. Sitting down? He's rocking back and forth. Excited? Tapping his fingers on any surface. Stressed? Spinning around in his desk chair.

•He doesn't cry often, but he's very whiny at bedtime

•If the others can't find him, he's probably curled up under his desk. He doesn't fit very well, but it feels safe

•He does not clean up his messes. But no one pushes him to do so.

•Loves being in people's laps. Even if it's just a little, like laying his head in someone's lap.

•If he's small, that means it's been a hard day.

•Doesn't mind being alone, sometimes he prefers it if everything is too much.

•HE KEEPS PET ROCKS AND THEY HAVE NAMES

[rmoonstoner]

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

Warnings:

18+, violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, volatile emotions, part 2 of the sex dream, dats a big boi

***

Summary:

This one is a little different. It's a recounting of the first chapters, but from Miguel's point of view. When the reader is referred to, it will be with she/her pronouns, not you. It's going to be shorter, because I want it to fit the chapter sizes I have picked.

***

Chapter 4 - B - Fast food dessert type Empanadas

These are the most commonly marketed Empanadas in the food industry. Many famous chains have their own versions of these sweet and delicious pastries. Chains like Taco Bell and McDonald's. (Yes, I know that McDonald's version is technically a pie, but to me it's literally the same thing in a rectangle, with venting slits. This is not a plug for McDonald's, I just happened to be really fucking high on edibles and eating a McDonald's pie at the time of writing this. I added Taco Bell as an afterthought. I wanted one from Taco Bell, but our location vanished mysteriously in the middle of the night a few months back.)

***

Miguel was tired and grumpy. His life up until now had be hard, and the most recent hand had him almost folding entirely.

First he had been screwed over by his boss and was tricked into being hooked on a designer drug. Next, his fiance had cheated on him with said boss. And finally, his boss had forced him into doing research and tests on a subject he didn't want to do or agreed with.

Sure the subject had originally been his own choice, but his employer thought it necessary to make certain changes to what Miguel was doing. They all added up, and eventually Miguel began to hate his work with a passion, as it wasn't his anymore. He also hated his dependency on the drug.

Then to add insult to injury, his boss changed something in his current test setup, which was working in a cure for himself, didn't tell Miguel, then when Miguel ran the experiment, he ended up being pricked by something. In his panic to fix his mistake, he hadn't seen what had pricked him.

It was an alarmingly large vial of volatile Spider DNA, and it worked quickly to change Miguel's body and his very chemical makeup. It caused him to become sicker than when he was withdrawing, yet his boss still forced him into coming into work the next day, with barely any check up on the accident. In fact, his boss was actively trying to cover it up, and offered a bribe in return to keep his mouth shut.

But Miguel wasn't going to take that bribe. He wanted to blow the whistle and make his boss pay for everything he had done to him. He thought better of those plans, and decided to politely decline the offer with not much of a fuss.

Miguel didn't think his boss would take things further after he refused.

Unfortunately he was very wrong.

He was set up yet again to fail. The next experiment he conducted, one he chose and wanted to do, had somehow failed spectacularly. He suspected it was on purpose, and Lyla had informed him it was.

Just like his boss had planned.

Miguel didn't have time to ponder on the incident. He had been violently ripped from one dimension to another in a failed experiment. An experiment that he was conducting to try and rid himself of a previous condition he had acquired in the last test.

A massive explosion ripped through the lab he was in. It happened just seconds after getting into the chair to have the robotic assistant to inject him with a serum to reverse the Spider DNA infusion.

Well, needless to say, that didn't happen.

Shit hit the fan.

Red lights and warning buzzers went off. The meters were off of the charts, breaking the indicator needles in the process. Miguel had been caught in the blast and sent flying through the wall into another part of the lab. He ended up hitting a machine that held a casing of some sort of unstable material, and then he had blacked out.

***

When Miguel awoke, it was to the sound of birds chirping. More sounds of a bustling city started to bleed through. Cars, horns, chatter, footsteps, heavy machinery…

He was confused that it was dark, as it had been daylight when he started the experiment. Mid-morning to be exact.

His whole body hurt. Muscles ached, and a lot of his skin had been bruised and cut, but it wasn't as bad as it should have been. He felt sick and after emptying his stomach and he tried to figure out where he was, and why no one had come for him all day…

Until he realized where and when he was.

***

That day sucked. Miguel was lucky enough to have his watch, and subsequently his AI assistant, survive the explosion and sudden displacement. Lyla was able to worm her way into the primitive internet networks, and with a little tweaking, she made up a basic identification system for Miguel. By doing this, she unlocked a simple bank account for him and managed to syphon some funds into it. She even booked a prepaid mid-range hotel in the bad end of town to keep him busy.

He had a long shower the first day, did a bunch of research on the current time period and the customs. Laws, and basic things one would need to know if hurled back in time some fifty plus years, and then he slept for a long time.

***

The second day of the second week, he noticed he had a gnarly beard starting to happen. He didn't enjoy the scruff, which grew so much faster now than it used to, and he needed a change. Miguel went shopping and bought a razor and some scissors, along with some basic supplies to enjoy during his stay here.

He went home and cut his hair with Lyla's guidance and shaved. He went on to do more research on the local area, with Lyla compiling files on the local heroes, starting with the most well known first. The Hulk, Iron Man, Captain America, Black Widow, Vision, Hawkeye, Ant-Man and the Wasp, and every Spider-Folk there was.

Miguel found himself spending a lot of time on those ones, particularly the light Spider. He told himself it was because she had weirdly specific light related powers, and not the fact he really digged the way her outfit looked and hugged every curve.

His research led him to the more mythical or cosmic members, like Thor, The Scarlet Witch, Doctor Strange, Master Wong, Captain Marvel, and the Guardians of the Galaxy.

He was amazed at just how many there were.

Then he went on to the lesser known ones. He went through a large list, and found a few that seemed quite absurd to him. One of them appeared to be a pack of ever changing and roaming knights that claimed to be the fists of Khonshu. Some of the sources he read into lead him to believe they were the same person with some sort of fashion crisis.

That one left a sour taste in Miguel's mouth and he had no idea why. He just didn't like them. How could he, when the knights left a brutal trail of blood and gore behind them wherever they went. Apparently there was a whole reddit thread dedicated to these lunatics. Miguel was suspicious that these weren't different people, and merely just one man running amok like a crazed Mr. DressUp.

The guy that was in a white tailored suit, he was reasonable, passive, and tried to talk his way out of situations. He still beat the shit out of people, but only when provoked. He also talked non-stop, and had a British accent.

The one in the scraggly ancient looking robes and bandages, he was quiet and well calculated. He had a purpose, and he would do his tasks with barely a word. He was fond of violence, and had no issues causing major bodily harm to people. He would only kill if it was necessary. When he did talk, his voice was a rough American accent.

But then the third outfit just looked exactly the same as the first one, but in a dark smokey grey. Everything was the same, but reversed. The stitching on the mask was on the other side, pocket square was on the left and not the right. He was the most violent of the three, being the only one to gleefully kill their targets while cracking lame jokes and roasting them relentlessly. He would use improvised weapons, firearms and knives, and he spoke fluent Spanish.

Miguel got lost down a rabbit hole concerning these guys. There were theories it was really three guys that worked as a team, but others recounted how they had witnessed one of them literally change his suit in the blink of an eye with the aid of some sort of magic.

Those stories were concerning to hear. That there was some madman out there fighting crime with magic, and murdering people without much consequence in the name of some ancient God. The problem was that the authorities thought there were three separate individuals, so nothing could really be done if they couldn't be caught.

Miguel spent the rest of that week researching and compiling the largest folder of data on these people as he could get.

***

In the beginning of the third week, he happened to be watching television in the sub par motel. It was a rerun of the Captain America musical, and Miguel was floored with how bad the whole thing looked. None of the characters looked like any of the heros he had seen in the paper. Just twenty minutes in, he was about to change the channel, when a Daily Bugle news bulletin came across the screen.

LOCAL SPIDER MENACE CAUSES A RAMPAGE WITH THE RHINO, AGAIN!!!

Miguel was confused at first, but as the television showed a bird's eye view of the aftermath of a warehouse that had collapsed, he found himself sitting on the edge of his seat. The camera panned to a major highway, with cars stopped all over the road and people running and screaming.

There was Spider-Man running after the Rhino down the road, and the Rhino appeared to be chasing another Spider-Man. The camera zoomed in, and Miguel was surprised to see it wasn't a man, but a woman in a black space patterned suit. She was making bubbles and disks of light appear, then jumping onto them, or using her webs on them to get away.

He was intrigued as the camera got closer. By now he figured it was a drone that was flying about covering this story. He could see how fast the space Spider was, and how she was purposely slowing down for the rampaging man to catch up to her. Every so often, she would let the angry man get so close, it almost appeared like she was either really good at her job, or like she was playing with death and hoping to get gored.

She would even toss out a snarky and sassy line at him, just to make him angrier and lash out. Apparently she was quite good at pissing off the villains and goading them into chasing her down.

***

For the next few days Miguel went out and about in his street clothing. Miguel was making note of important landmarks around the city. He scoped out Stark Tower, the Sanctum, the Daily Bugle, local laboratories and other such places. He took a look around the problem areas with high crime rates, and then he checked out the better neighbourhoods. He did it all by foot and it helped Lyla keep track of everything.

Miguel was so focused on these hot spots, that he never bothered to look up local restaurants or food places. He had gotten used to just going to the local corner store for all of his needs. It was usually mass amounts of junk food, soda water, and a couple of new drinks he had found, Mountain Dew and Monster energy drinks.

The Mountain Dew soda brand had all sorts of weird flavors. Miguel wasn't very fond of the original green one, but he very much enjoyed the ones from the cultural foods import section. His favorite was Baja Blast and Goji Citrus Strawberry. 

And the Monsters! Holy shock! They were delicious! Miguel ended up buying every flavor they had. He drank two right away, both being some sort of fruit punch flavor, he wasn't sure. He had the urge to go on a run, and he was out there for four hours, before he realized how hungry he was.

That's when he also discovered how insanely good pizza pockets and Heluva Good dip were. He spent the day working out and binge eating, much to Lyla's dismay.

***

On the seventh day of the third week, he was looking at clothing at a main street vendor, an energy drink in his hand, and he was making fun of a bootleg Spider-Man costume.

"This looks so awful. It looks nothing like the local Spiders. None of them."

"Miguel, it's a bootleg. It doesn't have an official merchandise tag on it." Lyla piped up and Miguel laughed.

"It's still shocking awful-"

"Help me! Please!"

A loud scream rang out from behind. Miguel looked over and saw a woman that was being hauled away from her car towards the alleyway. Miguel looked back at the tacky outfit and snatched it from the shelf without a single thought.

Within moments he had hidden his clothes behind a dumpster and had changed, before dashing off to help the woman. Somehow he was still carrying his half empty can of Monster. He grumbled about the tightness of the costume and how uncomfortable it was in all the wrong places.

"Maybe you should have taken the extra second to grab an adult size." Lyla snickered at him as he approached the suspect.

The suspect was surprised to see a large man in a very ill fitting and cheap spandex costume, and he shoved the woman at Miguel. Miguel caught her and apologized, then he leapt after the man on all fours. He caught up to him, and threw his can at the man. It missed, but the contents exploded all over the suspect. Miguel caught up to him while he was wiping his eyes and cursing, only to be flipped into a dumpster for his efforts.

With his luck, he managed to end up in a particularly gross pile of trash, with most of it being rancid food waste. Miguel hissed and let out a string of angry and bitter Spanish as he spent the rest of the day tracking the guy down. It was easy, because the man now stunk of Sweet Tarts, which subsequently was what the energy drink smelled like to Miguel.

It was nightfall by the time he caught up to the bastard and boy was he tired. By then, it was way too easy to take him down and subdue him. It was right before Miguel had dealt a kick to the man, took the purse, and sent him flying into some trash cans when he heard and smelled someone else's presence.

Flowers.

He smelled flowers. That was a pleasant and easy to spot smell, since he was covered in gross sticky garbage juice and body sweat from the day.

Then he could hear a heartbeat and breathing, along with gasps and a shuffle of shoes on concrete. He peaked over his shoulder and saw a small dark bump on the railing, and he turned back just in time to avoid an attack from the man he thought he had knocked out. He incapacitated the criminal and then secured him with his webs. Once done, he turned and addressed the other person's presence, and to his surprise, it was a woman. A woman that promptly hid from him.

He couldn't help himself, so he jumped up to check her out and see what her deal was and why she was creeping around on a roof all by herself.

And boy was he ever glad that he did.

There she was, that pretty little light Spider in her sparkling night sky outfit.

It was such a weird event, and in the end, she ended up sharing her identity, accusing him of being her ex boyfriend, yelling at him, her deciding he wasn't her ex, apologizing, and then buying him some pizza.

They talked all night.

Well, up until he bailed on her once he saw he still had that lady's purse.

Well okay, it was really because he was getting far too comfortable with her far too quickly. She felt safe, warm, and welcoming… After she stopped yelling at him. That got his attention, if you know what I mean.

He had openly stared at her, his eyes drinking in the way her outfit clung tightly to her body. He enjoyed the shape of her face, and how her eyes shined like the night sky. He was especially fond of the way she seemed quite feisty and foul mouthed, even if she used terms he wasn't accustomed to.

He decided it was best to stay away, keep a low profile, and hope she assumed he had left.

But things didn't go as planned.

***

Miguel had exhausted all his options, with his only local answer being Stark Industries. He set a plan into motion to try and get Lyla to jack into the place so he could snag the information he needed to get himself back home.

While he made mental notes on how to go forward, he made his way back to his hotel, collecting his lost clothes and bag from before. He had a much needed shower to rid himself of the stink he had been marinating in all night, and put the costume into the sink to soak for a few hours while he slept. Lyla had promised him she would work on something to replace it.

***

His dreams didn't help him at all.

Miguel ended up in an acid trip copy of the city, and he was stuck wandering the rooftops endlessly. He noticed the costume he was wearing, actually fit him perfectly, and the design had changed drastically. It was nice, and he made a mental note to let Lyla know.

He had no idea what the point of the dream was, but he could tell that there were lights coming from an especially dark area of rooftops. It almost looked like an aurora borealis, but only over that one rooftop. The one that was the tallest.

He decided to make his way over. His movements were choppy and almost like he was missing chunks of the journey towards the roof, and it didn't seem like he was getting any closer at all. It also felt like he was moving at fifteen frames per second, and he did not like it at all.

A flash of grey caught his eye. It was moving quickly, much faster than he was, and it was fluid and graceful. It was hopping over the buildings faster than he could keep up. At first he thought it was a shadow, but the more he looked at the streak of grey, the more he began to see it was a man in a well tailored suit.

A suit that looked freakishly familiar.

Miguel suddenly sped up and went at a full run. Everything sped up to the way he liked it to be. He wanted to get closer and catch it, and as he kept the chase up, the man that was running away started to look more and more familiar. The closer he got, the more details he could see.

The man was wearing a mask that covered his entire head. When he looked back at Miguel, he appeared to not even acknowledge him, or perhaps he didn't see him. Maybe he did,  and just didn't care. Either way, Miguel followed him, noting that, he too, was going for the lights on the building.

A sudden thought hit him like a bullet. Miguel had webs! He raised his hand and shot at the building above him. When it connected, Miguel yanked himself up and over the man in the dark grey suit. The man scowled and shot him the finger.

Triumph filled him as he zipped past the guy and drew himself closer to the light. He was filled with pride at how well he was doing. He had to make a brief stop to kick off the side of the building in order to keep up this momentum, and that's where shit went sideways.

The moment he shot out another web, it was met with a glinting metal object and it was severed. He tried again, but the same thing happened. He got angry and turned to peer behind him, seeing the masked man literally moving over him and kicking him right in the face as he used his shoulders to leap upwards.

Miguel yelped as he fell. The top of the building flew away from him, sending the light far away. He tried to shoot out a life line, but he failed to snag anything.

Darkness was threatening to swallow him up, when he tried a final time to grasp any sort of surface to save himself. The last rope he flung out managed to hit something, and he used the sudden change in motion to send him upwards.

Miguel slammed hard against a concrete wall, his claws digging in easily, like a spade into dirt. He huffed and looked up, feeling like time had shifted forwards again. He couldn't see the other man at all.

"I miss you, you know. Every night I think about you. It helps to keep me going, knowing you'll be there when I get back." Miguel heard his own voice, twisted and not exactly right sounding.

He snarled and pulled himself up, almost violently as he climbed higher and higher, similar to an angry bear chasing its prey up to the top. In seconds he had pulled himself up to the edge and looked over. His eyes focused on what was there and he grit his teeth.

There, in that fucking asshole's lap, was the girl that had bought him pizza. The pretty light Spider that he'd been thinking too much about recently. She was quiet as the guy spoke to her while his hands were all over her, grabbing and pawing, and Miguel snarled to himself.

"Do you know why I call you, 'mi estrella'? I consider you like the sun, and myself the moon. You're so brilliant and warm, and your greatness shines so brightly. It reflects onto me, making me feel like my heart is full."

The words sent Miguel's gag reflex into overdrive and he almost barfed at how corny and cheesy the phrases were. He didn't like it one bit and he began to drag himself up and to a standing position. As he stood, his eyes processed how she was reacting. She seemed distant, even though she was letting the man touch her. The lack of a response from her was maddening.

Even in his dreams, the woman he had met didn't seem too thrilled about what was happening. He wasn't either.

Miguel moved quickly. The action was so fast, the other man didn't see it coming as if time had slowed right down for everyone, except for Miguel. Miguel lunged forward, grabbed the man by the lapels, and yeeted him straight off of the building, before sliding into his place under the Galaxy Spider.

Time sped up again, and she looked surprised to see him there. Surprised, but pleased. His mouth began to move, words spilling out as she squirmed in his lap.

"Don't think about him. His pretty words mean nothing when he keeps breaking your heart." 

"Miguel." Her voice sounded like liquid silk to his ears, and he couldn't stop himself from pushing her back and kissing her with need.

He remembered calling her beautiful, and then the rest was a wild and vivid fever dream. He had been desperate as he clawed at the fabric of her suit and ravaged every inch of her skin that was revealed. She seemed to enjoy being bitten and manhandled, while he enjoyed the way she thrashed, bit, and clawed at him in return.

She made him throb with desire, and he knew that he was hooked, when he probably should have minded his own business. He knew he couldn't leave any time soon.

He enjoyed her sitting in his lap. He enjoyed it even more when he pushed her onto her back and ground into her to the point he heard the building crack, and she begged him for more. He made her come so easily, and he couldn't fathom why. It wasn't like he was a virgin or anything, but he didn't think sex could be this…

Well, pornographic and mind blowing.

His favorite part of the dream, was when he webbed her hands, feet, and torso up, then proceeded to make a makeshift sex swing. She also seemed to very much enjoy the contraption, and he made use of it for every position change after.

That dream lasted an eerily long time, and when it was done, Miguel woke up feeling like he didn't rest at all, like he was really there, actually doing that for hours. He was hot, tired, and very sweaty and sticky.

And so were his sheets.

"Good morning, Miguel. I take it you had a very… Explicit and pleasant wet dream?" Lyla chirped up at him, effectively startling him.

"Shock! Don't scare me like that. And, uh, nooo…"

"You don't have to lie to me, Miguel O'Hara. Your heart rate and blood pressure skyrocketed, you were tossing and turning  and the final evidence, is that you had a seizure like reaction and-"

"Alright already! Yes! Yes, I had a wet dream. Ya happy?"

"Oooo, was it about the lady Spider?" Lyla asked, but Miguel didn't answer.

Note:

***

Series Master List

***

I decided in this story, that Jake's Moon Knight suit can be different and ever changing. He wears his comic book one we didn't get to see in the Moon Knight series, and a version of Steven's suit, but charcoal and black. You might remember it from the sex dream Y/N had in a previous chapter. He won't be using the other one much.

***

Special thanks to:

Beta Reader:

@einno-arko

Proof Reader:

@iceclaw101

Ideas:

@theaussiedragon @howaboutcastiel @einno-arko

***

Tags:

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog @jklkverr @jkthinkstoomuch @oscarissac2099

[captain-acab]

AITA for adopting one of my brother's daughters while he's in a coma?

And yes, "one of" because he had two daughters. But! In my defense, I honestly never even knew the second one (20F) was alive. I had vaguely known about her, but she was the older sister and we'd never even spoken. She was never in the picture... until like three days ago.

Let me explain. My brother (45M) and I (44M) have been estranged for a long time. We used to be close, but politics got between us and we fought. It was bad, I'm not going to deny that. Once he gave me a black eye, it got super infected and never healed right. I used to hate him. Situations change though, and we finally had a chance for a reunion. All things considered, I was really looking forward to it.

Then everything went to shit. I'm not going to get into it but there was a huge fire—it was a freak accident, and before you ask, no I had nothing to do with it—and my brother and all his kids got trapped in a collapsing building. In the aftermath, the only ones I could find were my brother, and the girl who's now my daughter (now 17F). My brother was hurt really bad, though. He's been in a coma since then. Honestly I'm not sure if he'll ever wake up, but his doctor is a friend of mine and I've made sure they don't pull the plug. My brother's a fighter; I'm sure he wouldn't want that.

But after the accident... His daughter was there, all alone. Basically orphaned, no other family to speak of. Did I have my brother's permission? No. Did I legally have the right to adopt? Probably, I didn't actually take it in front of judge. I was all she had. I've raised her as my own daughter, I love her like my own daughter. She's had a number of mental health issues that I don't want to get into rn, but I've been supportive all the way, and while I'm unmarried, my pharmaceutical company does well enough that I can get her everything she needs.

Here's the issue, though. Remember that other daughter? She just showed up out of the blue, all grown now, and acts like I'm some terrible person for stealing her kid sister. Where was she, you ask? The day after the fire, she went and landed herself in prison. She's a real character—anger issues, trouble with the law going back to childhood, the whole nine yards—but boy does she think I'm The Asshole! Like, I was there for your sister, where the hell were you? Oh yeah, in fucking prison. (Sorry if this is coming across as unsympathetic. It's literally the first time I've talked with her face-to-face and she accuses me of being a groomer. She has this whole victim complex where she's convinced I'm the reason for everything that went wrong with her life). What's worst is, I think my daughter's starting to believe her.

Soon I'll be running for political office, and this older sister is coming in and trying to tear my family apart with her bear hands. She even got a cop* to start investigating my pharmaceutical company! (*I'm pretty sure she's fucking the cop. Like I said, she's a real piece of work.) Now a city council member got my main factory shut down, my business partners are calling for my head, this whole situation is exacerbating my daughter's psychosis, and I'm about at my limit. All because I dared to be a decent father.

Tldr: My estranged brother's in a coma, so I took in one of his daughters, and now the daughter I didn't adopt is calling me a monster. What do you think fellow Zaunites, AITA?

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 5

Request: Yes or No

not very pleased with this part

~~~

"Hey, you've reached Rachel (L/N). Leave a message and I'll get back to you soon."

"Hi, Mom... I-I was wondering if you had plans to come home. School's going to start up again next month and I was wondering if you'd be here for graduation. I already called Dad. He, uhm... He didn't pick up either. I don't know if you'll even listen to this but I just... I hope you at least come for a day. Just one day. You probably don't think it's a big deal, but it is to me. My counselor says I'm en route to be valedictorian, just like Dad. So, I wanted to call and ask what your plans were. Anyways, hope you're having fun. Bye." 

Setting the phone down on the kitchen island, (Y/N) bit down on his bottom lip, pressing two fingers to his forehead. He tilted his head to look at the pictures on the small table pressed against the wall. The family pictures on the table always stared holes at him when he ate. A taunting reminder his parents were never around. A reminder he'd spent his high school years alone in a big house cause his parents couldn't stand the sight of each other, let alone want to be around the child they created together. 

His phone vibrated and a shot of hope ran through his veins, but when he looked at the contact, he was only met with disappointment. Sighing softly, he answered the call and held the phone to his ear. "What's up, Rafe?"

"H-Hey, man, uh... I..."

"Rafe? What's wrong? You okay? Did Barry-"

"No, no, no... It's just... Uhm, Sarah's not going to the Bahamas with Dad anymore. T-There was an accident at the tracks and uhm... Sherriff Peterkin got hurt. It was that Pogue. That Pogue did it, yeah. John B. He, uh, he shot her."

(Y/N) stared down at the marbled island, letting the information settle in. Sherriff Peterkin? Shot by John Booker Routledge? The same guy who couldn't even beat Topper Thornton in a fight? And Sarah, fuck, Sarah had been there. "Shit, Jesus, do you need me to go over there? Is Sarah okay? Is Ward?"

"No, stay home, (Y/N). We're fine. I'll... I'll call you if I need anything but listen, Sarah isn't in the right state of mind right now. If she calls or says anything... Don't trust her. She, uh... She's been saying, uhm... strange things. Dad says it's the shock talking, alright? If she says anything to you, tell me, 'kay? I'll see you tomorrow. I gotta go."

"Rafe-" The phone beeped signaling Rafe had hung up. (Y/N) pulled his phone from his ear and held it, looking down at his confused reflection on the black screen. It'd only been that morning Rafe had told him all about John B attacking Ward and Ward deciding to take Sarah to the Bahamas for her own safety. What a hell of a day for the Cameron family.

Sliding off the barstool, (Y/N) shut the kitchen lights off, plunging the house into darkness. He made his way up the stairs and into his room, plugging his phone into the charger and collapsing into bed. He stared up at the ceiling, fingers toying with the waistband of his sweats. His head turned to the side, gazing at his phone in. He thought about texting Sarah, asking her if she were okay. But Rafe's words kept him still. She needed space, he decided. She needed to process things. He'd go by their place in the morning.

Sleep didn't come easy to him, with everything going on how could it? But he'd found it after laying in bed for two hours. The morning shone brightly through his thin curtains, gently pulling him out of his sleep and encouraging him to start his day. He did his typical morning routine before heading downstairs to grab some crackers and head out. He drove down to the Cameron Residence, listening to the radio talk about the warrant out for John B and the 25k price reward for bringing him in. He shoved another cracker in his mouth and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, pulling into the driveway and parking. Dusting his shirt off, he climbed out and walked toward the front doors, tapping the glass lightly with his knuckles.

Ward appeared moments later, greeting him with a tired smile. "Hey, son. Now's not really a good time."

"I wanted to check on Rafe and Sarah is all. The radio's talking about what happened to Sherriff Peterkin." (Y/N) explained softly. Ward sighed, running a hand over his face and shaking his head.

"Horrible... It was horrible. Sarah saw it happen. She's real shaken up right now, (Y/N). She's not in the headspace to be getting visitors. I know you care a lot about her but just... Now's not the right time. I'm sure when she's feeling better, she'll give you a call." Ward told him, a small thankful yet apologetic smile on his lips. He placed a warm hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed it. "Thank you. I'll let her know you came by. And as for Rafe-" 

"I've got it handled, Dad." Ward's grip tightened briefly and he inhaled deeply, releasing (Y/N) and turning around to face his son. 

"Are you sure-"

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure." Rafe brushed past Ward with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He appeared awfully calm about everything. Rafe slithered his arm around (Y/N), turning him around and walking back toward his jeep.

"What's in the backpack?"

"John B's things. I'm gonna dump 'em somewhere or burn 'em. I haven't decided yet." Rafe responded casually, opening the door to the jeep and getting inside. Ward watched them from his stop in the doorway, hands resting on his hips and a worried frown on his face. (Y/N) sat inside and eyed the green backpack.

"You could always donate them."

"Who's going to take a murderer's clothes?" Rafe laughed, propping his leg up against the door and turning on the radio. (Y/N) stared at him, slowly turning the key to the ignition and stepping on the gas pedal. His father and sister had witnessed a murder and he looked... gleeful. Satisfied, even. Rafe reached forward and turned on the radio, fiddling with it until he got to a station he liked and hummed along to the song playing. (Y/N) silently drove through and out of the neighborhood, glancing at the cop cars that would occasionally speed by with their sirens blaring. He drove into town, finding a place they could donate the clothes to.

"Come on, Rafe."

"Seriously? Dude, nobody wants these." Rafe groaned, tossing the door open and getting out of the car. (Y/N) stepped out and ensured the car locked before stepping onto the sidewalk and nodding for Rafe to head inside. The blonde rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, heading inside the store. (Y/N) went to follow but a paper stabled to a wooden electric pole caught his eye and he walked toward it. A wanted poster for John B. 

"Jesus.." (Y/N) whispered, tugging the paper from the pole and staring down at it. Sherriff Peterkin was truly dead. Killed by a teenager she'd spent months trying to keep afloat. A heaviness loomed over his shoulders. The few times they'd interacted she'd been kind and motherly. The sound of more sirens blaring pulled his gaze away from the paper, watching three cop cars race down the street. Rafe stepped out of the shop with the empty backpack, brows furrowing at the sight of the cop cars. He spotted someone running down the sidewalk and caught their arm.

"The hell's goin' on?"

"They found him! They found John B but he ran off before they could arrest him. They're lookin' for him now." The girl explained, tugging her arm free and continuing running down the sidewalk, presumably following the sirens. Rafe turned to look at (Y/N) and nodded toward his car. (Y/N) sighed and crumbled up the paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash can and unlocking his car. He got inside and turned it back on, stepping on the pedal and following the cop cars. 

"Should we really be doing this, Rafe?"

"Look, (Y/N), he's a murderer. What if he comes after my family next? What if he comes after Sarah? We need to find him now." Rafe said, hooking his fingers around the assist handle and straightening up. (Y/N) cursed softly, pressing down on the gas. The cop cars led them into a neighborhood littered with more cops. They searched backyards and spoke to residents, frantically writing things down on notepads and calling out to each other. Rafe pressed himself against the door, scanning the area. 

"Doesn't Kelce live around here?"

"Yeah, he does," Rafe answered quietly, whirling around when officers got into their cars and drove down the street. Rafe only had to give (Y/N) a look for him to catch the hint and speed off after them. The cops drove up the driveway of a house and got out, forcing (Y/N) to park in the street. Craning his neck, he spotted Kelce speaking to two officers while another instructed the rest. One final cop pulled up and out got Shoupe. He approached Kelce and the other officers as neighbors crawled up and down the street hoping to catch a glimpse of John B's arrest.

Rafe hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut and walking up to the house. (Y/N) groaned, tossing off his seatbelt and following Rafe. Other cops lingered by the cars, stopping anyone from getting too close. Shoupe called out to John B using the megaphone and began heading up toward the house. "Remember the fallen, Sheriff!" Rafe called out, getting shouts of agreement from others and calls for John B's blood to be spilled. Shoupe entered the house, followed by two other cops. (Y/N) watched the front door, waiting for Shoupe and John B to make an appearance or the sound of gunshots but instead Shoupe ran back out.

"He ran out the back! I want three deputies to hit the backyard now! He can't be far." Shoupe called out. "The suspect is unarmed!"

"We'll get him for you, Sheriff!" 

"The hell you doin', Rafe?" (Y/N) grabbed his arm, tugging his friend closer and furrowing his brows. Rafe leaned in with an almost crazed look in his vibrant blue eyes.

"I'm protectin' my family, (Y/N). Protectin' the homeland." Rafe answered lowly, lifting his head and continuing to egg on the crowd by encouraging them to go looking for John B. He pulled his arm free from (Y/N)'s hold and lightly patted his cheek before leading a small group of people down the sidewalk. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and followed the group, feeling a mixture of emotions bubbling in his stomach.

Rafe called out instructions, leading some people off the sidewalk but they stopped abruptly when a church bell rang out. The sound attracted everyone and Rafe and Kelce quickly took off in the direction of it, prompting (Y/N) to do the same. (Y/N) paused and looked up at the old abandoned church, spotting Rafe and Kelce slipping inside. Cars pulled up and cops rushed out, one of them grabbing (Y/N) and pulling him back when the church suddenly began to smoke. Rafe and Kelce ran out of it and went back into the crowd, turning around to watch the fire spread through the church. The doors of the church pulled open and someone stepped out in a faded red hoodie. The cops whipped out their guns and pointed it at the man, shouting orders for him. Shoupe ripped the hoodie off him, only for everyone to see Topper's face. One of the cops put handcuffs on him and dragged him to the car, shoving him inside. 

"Come on-"

"I'm going home, Rafe. I didn't sign up for a goddamn manhunt. You wanna go find him? Fine. I'm not in the mood to watch some guy get shot down or beaten by an angry crowd."

"You serious?! This isn't the time to play the good guy, (Y/N). There's a murderer on the loose, don't you get that?" Rafe hissed, snatching (Y/N) by the arms and squeezing him tight enough his skin began to sting. 

"He's sixteen, Rafe. And this is a small island." (Y/N) reminded him, wincing when Rafe's grip tightened further. The blonde stared at him and clicked his tongue, relaxing his hold and rubbing his reddening skin. 

"Fine, go home," Rafe grunted, hand grasping the base of (Y/N)'s neck and pulling him into his chest, cheek nuzzling gently against his hair. "We'll talk later." 

"Yeah, alright." (Y/N) breathed, tearing himself away from Rafe and bringing a hand to his warm forearm. He walked through the grass until he reached the sidewalk again, heading down the street and finding his car. He got in and slumped back against the seat, peering down at his arms and barely making out the red outline of Rafe's thumb. Sighing, (Y/N) turned the car on and drove home.

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

"Thank you." (Y/N) murmured, taking the Pepsi bottle and bag of chips into his hands. He pushed the door of the convenience store and walked out, tucking the bottle under his armpit and opening the bag. Sticking his hand inside and walking toward his car, he fished out the potato chip and popped it in his mouth. 

"Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" (Y/N) looked over his shoulder, feet coming to a stop when he noticed the two officers watching him expectantly. He glanced between them and nodded, shifting to face them completely. 

"Yeah..." He slowly chewed on the chip.

"I'm Officer Goff and this is Officer Levy. We have some questions regarding your ex-girlfriend, Sarah Cameron. Her father reported her missing this morning and since she's connected to Routledge, we'd like for you to come with us. Any information is valuable at this time." Officer Goff explained, nodding toward the cop car parked across the street. This month truly couldn't get any worse.

"What about my car?"

"You can give Officer Levy the keys and he'll-"

"Hell no." The officers raised their brows at him and he swallowed, muttering an apology under his breath. "It's just... It's the only gift my dad's ever given me. I don't let anyone drive it." His words made Officer Levy's hard features soften considerably and he turned to look at his partner. Officer Goff grunted softly and nodded, waving him off. (Y/N) turned and continued to his car, getting inside and muttering quietly under his breath as he set the bottle down in the cup holder. Turning on the car, he waited for the officers to drive out first before following behind them.

They took him to the lighthouse overlooking the ocean ahead where tents at been set up at its base. (Y/N) got out of his car, finishing the rest of the chips and tossing the crumbled bag away. He glanced around at the reporters and officers walking around, some in local uniforms while others in black uniforms with the letters SBI written on them. Shoupe approached him, nodding to the two officers and giving him a small smile.

"Sorry for all this, (Y/N). We have a procedure and we just need to be thorough." He told him, taking out his notepad and clicking his pen. "Could you confirm your relationship with Sarah Cameron?"

"Okay, uh, she's my ex-girlfriend. I last saw her like three or four days ago with John B and haven't seen her since. No, I don't know John B closely. We've only ever really spoken in passing. Is that it? Can I go now?" Shoupe paused his writing and lifted his eyes, studying (Y/N)'s face and tilting his head with a small frown. 

"Sarah was here some time ago, (Y/N). She came in and tried to blame this all on Rafe Cameron, her own brother and your buddy. We can't have her going around lying to residents and confusing people. We need to find her before she gets herself or somebody else hurt, alright? I know this is all new and bizarre but we need cooperation. Do you have any idea where she could be?" 

"She said Rafe did it?" (Y/N) asked quietly, the bizarre behavior of his friend replaying in his mind like a broken record. The grins and laughter, the worried look on Ward's face, the fact he wasn't allowed to even see her.

"Her father says she's unwell at the moment and John B manipulated her to believe something else. I'm sure with time, she'll come to accept the truth, alright?" Shoupe closed his notepad and tucked it away, lifting his hand to pat his forearm and nodding to someone behind him. (Y/N) looked over his shoulder, spotting Ward approaching him with a small smile.

"It's good seeing you here, son. I'd appreciate it if you stuck around in case Sarah reaches out to you." Ward told him, reaching out to place his hands on (Y/N)'s shoulders. 

"Why does Sarah think Rafe had something to do with this?" (Y/N) peered up at the older man, hearing the distant sound of thunder roaring. Ward stared down at him with parted lips, a mixture of emotions passing over his face. Shock, hurt, guilt, and finally reassurance. His hands kept him in place, tightening ever so slightly when (Y/N) tried to step back.

"Sarah's being manipulated by a very dangerous person, (Y/N). She's still in shock and she's having a hard time processing that the boy she cares about did something so horrific. John B's twisted her mind and made her believe Rafe had something to do with it. But you know him. Rafe can be quick to anger but he'd never hurt anybody, right? He's a good boy. He just needs some guidance, that's all. He needs you. You can help set him straight. You can help Sarah too once she feels better, alright? But right now, you should stay here. For Sarah. For me. Can you do that for me, son?" Ward tilted his head, lightly squeezing him and smiling. (Y/N) swallowed and nodded, the smile on Ward's face widening. "You're a good kid, (Y/N). I see you as my own. I know you won't disappoint me."

"I won't." (Y/N) assured him softly. "I promise."

"Good." Ward's face brightened and he released him. "Go on, take a seat. I'll get some water for you while we wait." 

(Y/N) wrapped his arms around himself and found a seat near one of the tents. Inside, detectives and officers typed away on their laptops, talking over each other and shuffling around notebooks and pieces of paper. Shoupe called for another officer and stepped out of the tent, heading to one of the SUVs and driving off with the sirens blaring. (Y/N) leaned back in his seat and looked forward, spotting the gray clouds slowly drifting closer and closer. Cracks of lightning lit them up occasionally with the wind beginning to pick up significantly. His stomach twisted and turned, leg bouncing lightly as he watched the storm grow closer and closer. 

After half an hour, some officers abruptly took off, shouting orders and locations as the sky darkened and night fell. (Y/N) could hear Ward angrily speaking to an agent, shouting about his daughter and her wellbeing. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek and gazed toward the parking lot, hand pressing against his pocket where his keys sat. He wanted to move. He wanted to leave. Leave the tent, leave the town, leave the island completely. His eyes flickered toward the officers pulling back up, dragging three familiar faces out. Kiara, Pope, and JJ. Shoupe escorted the three into the tent, sitting down near (Y/N). 

"What are you doing here?" JJ asked, leaning forward in his seat and glancing at the officer tasked with keeping an eye on them. 

"They were asking about Sarah. You?" (Y/N) quirked a brow but the three exchanged glances, falling silent and looking away from him. (Y/N) hummed softly, crossing his arms over his chest and going back to watching the officers work. The sound of a generator whirling to life reached his ears, and the lighthouse above them flickered on. The moment it did, officers began shouting outside and orders were called out. Leaning over and looking through the flapping of the tent, he spotted a white boat on the water, heading directly for the storm as rain poured over the tent. 

"What the hell's goin' on?" JJ tried getting to his feet, only to get shoved back down into his seat by the officer. The Pogues began frantically speaking, ranging from protests to pleas for information. (Y/N) only sunk deeper into his chair, leaning his head and staring upward. After a few minutes, Shoupe entered the tent and pulled off the hood to his raincoat, a grimace on his face when the Pogues jumped to their feet and approached him.

"Did you find them?"

"No," Shoupe answered, eyes falling down onto the ground. Kiara swallowed, glancing between JJ and Pope, a twinkle of hope in her eye.

"They got away?" She asked softly.

"We, uh... we lost them. I'm sorry."

"You lost them?" Pope repeated, stepping forward, panic seeping into his voice. "Wha- What do you mean you lost them? Like, they're gone? What are you talking about? Are they dead?" 

Shoupe's frown deepened, shoulders lowering with grief. "We don't know." He answered honestly. (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut, hearing JJ and Pope's angered shouts and Kiara's desperate cries. He opened his eyes and stood up on his feet, his eyes begin to fill with fresh tears. The parents of the teens rushed into the tent, embracing their children and letting them cry on their shoulders. (Y/N) watched Pope's father embrace his son and wife, even pulling JJ into the hug and comforting him. (Y/N) turned away, leaving the tent and stepping through the mushy, wet grass in search of his car.

Sarah Cameron and John Booker Routledge were... dead.

[evermorehoon]

❣︎ ⎯⎯ misshapen reality

Idol pairing: jake x reader

Genre: fluff, heavy angst

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: death, accident, injuries, mentions of marriage and weddings, too much hope, more tears than a human can create, surprise at the end!

A/N: so here's my first jake fic on this account!! And yes I chose angst because why not?? I'm a little iffy on it since it feels oddly paced but I hope you like it, feedback is highly appreciated♡♡ enjoy!!

You weren't someone who believed in true love, often thinking of it as something only in fairy-tales and fiction. Seeing the people around you fall in and out of love so easily chipped away at the thought of ever meeting that special someone.

Until you met him.

The library where you sat studying for your second year finals, it was dull and dreary. You rubbed your eyes, closing them for a few seconds before continuing to read the boring font when you felt a light tap on your shoulder. You wondered if you'd accidentally yawned too loud or something, thinking a librarian was giving you a warning.

"Are you using this?"

The low voice caused your ears to perk up, having heard it from somewhere. You turned around, being met with coffee brown eyes behind a pair of round glasses.

"The plug or the book?" Your voice came out as a whisper, somehow lost in his eyes. You could've sworn you'd seen him somewhere…

"The plug," he motioned to the laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

You gestured towards the plug against the wall, trying to bury your head in your book and not think about where you'd seen this boy.

Several minutes pass and nothing, nothing but wondering where you-

"Is something wrong?" His voice knocked you out of your thoughts. He had a genuinely concerned expression, worried he was making you uncomfortable with his presence.

"No!" You accidentally yelled out, earning an aggressive "Shh!" from a librarian. You mouthed a quick sorry before turning back to the pretty nerd in front of you. "No, it's just that I recognize you from somewhere."

"Maybe around campus?" He asked as he continued typing.

You shook your head. "I don't pay attention to people, I just wanna get to class, y'know?" You weren't sure what was coming over you. You'd never been one to start and hold a conversation with a stranger, but it seemed he didn't mind the company.

A few more minutes and you'd finally come to the conclusion that you shared two classes, with him always sitting in the middle and you right at the back. His hair was dark brown now, not much of a difference from the black hair you normally saw yet your slow brain couldn't recognize him until his hair blew out of his face.

"I'm Jaeyun," he introduced, keeping his voice low. "But you can call me Jake if you want."

After introducing yourself, a question of his origins came about. His expression and his slightly exaggerated chuckle evident he'd been asked this before way more than normal.

"You aren't mixed?" You furrowed your eyebrows, whisper-yelling in surprise as he shook his head; all he did was grow up in another country.

The few minutes turned into hours of conversation, with him somehow getting work done and you managing to understand content he could explain to you.

There was something in the way he spoke, the way he covered his mouth as he let out little laughs, the way he nodded to show he was listening, the way he'd stop typing to lean on his hand and use his index finger to pat on his plump lips in thought.

You assumed you wouldn't see each other again as you never crossed paths with people often, opting to stay at home alone where nothing could disappoint or hurt you. You didn't want to keep in contact with him, thinking he'd get bored of you like so many before him.

Yet days went by, and you found yourself in the same seat in the library with him sitting opposite you. The prettiest smile plastered on his face as he listened to you talk/whisper. He was a great study buddy, nice enough to let you borrow his laptop for a quick search for something.

He'd offered to study at a nearby coffee shop instead, wanting to have freedom to talk more, and just wanting to take you out on a date. He was too nervous and opted to ask you as a study buddy rather than potentially courting you.

But study days turned into three date nights, turned into weeks of courting and into months of dating.

You had asked him out, nervous yet excited. He couldn't contain his joy, his cheeks nearly burning from the smile on his face. His hair bounced gently as he let his puppy-like mannerisms get the better of him, hugging you happily.

The framed graduation picture of you two stayed on your side of the bed, diplomas in your hands as he placed a kiss on your cheek standing in front of the library.

Two years later, a picture of your left hand on instagram, adorning the silver engagement ring Jake had proposed to you with. It was a simple ring, with him having saved up for the wedding rings.

You talked of your future together, the two kids you planned to have, a golden retriever running alongside them. You often joked about him looking like that specific breed of dog, how he looked like his childhood companion that was now living with his parents. What fun would it be to watch Jaeyun and his future competition battle it out for the most loved golden of the family.

The wedding was set for at least another two years, searching for a house suitable to start a family in. Your combined salaries weren't very helpful when it came to property buying but you did your best.

"Two bedrooms sound good to me," you said, showing him the floorplan of the house. The backyard was a good size with a garage attached to the side of the house.

"Is it safe?" He asked. "Is it at least well centred?"

Good schools and safe neighborhoods mattered a lot to him. He wanted his children to grow up happy and have the best childhood he could offer. The house you showed him was close to perfect, residential area but with easy access to public transportation and not too far away from town. And just within your price range!

The single story house felt homey, maybe it was because of Jake. His presence made everything warm. He felt like the cuddliest hug on the coldest of winters, like a cup of coffee on a rainy day.

'Is this what love feels like?' You often wondered when you looked at him doing menial tasks like cooking ramen at 2am, humming softly. Watching him sleep on the nights where he was extra tired, seeing his chest rise and fall rhythmically, listening to his cute sleepy noises.

Marriage was right around the corner. Next stop, the rest of your lives together!

Your dress hung on the door of your closet after having your last fitting a week before the wedding. You and Jake had been staying in separate hotels close to the venue, excitement overflowing through both of you.

"No, you can't come in!" You yelled as he whined from the other side of the door. "You can't see the bride before the wedding!"

"Come on, do you really believe in that?" He asked, laughing at your cuteness.

'Doesn't matter, go away!"

"Fine," you could hear him mumbling sadly before speaking up. "It took me a while to get here, y'know?"

"I know," you giggled, leaning against the door. "I can't wait for tomorrow."

"Me neither," he smiled softly.

It seemed after you had let out a dreamy sigh, you noticed his presence was no longer there. Just a few more hours before you were officially wedded to each other, husband and wife.

It made you excited to know you’d found someone so unbelievably perfect, someone wanted by many and yet fell for you. Your life was surely brighter with him around. He filled your everyday life with love and light. The thought of sleeping was barely on the table, wanting nothing more than to marry the love of your life.

Having woken up super early, you didn’t feel an ounce of exhaustion from having barely slept. The smile on your face never left as your bridesmaids took random pictures of you for the “scrapbook” they planned for your gift. They planned to collect the pictures they took, getting Jake’s groomsmen to do the same for him.

Everybody was super excited, with everything prepared it looked like the perfect day.The guests had been seated, Heeseung - one of Jaeyun’s friends from uni - offered to play the piano for your entrance. Only he didn’t look very ready, neither wedding party did.

‘What’s taking so long?’ You stood outside the entrance of the church, wondering why no one gave you the go ahead.

“Y/n!” You heard one of your bridesmaids call out. “We have a problem…”

“What?” You wanted to let out one of those ‘what could it possibly be?’ type of laugh but it came out way more worried than it should’ve.

“We can’t find Jake.”

You seemed to blink in disbelief. ‘What?’ you thought, but it came out of your mouth in a broken tone. There was no way he suddenly got cold feet. Not when he was practically elated last night.

“We can’t reach him,” another bridesmaid came from behind her. “Jay and Sunghoon aren’t here either and we can’t reach them.”

Should you be crying? Do you even want to cry? What are you supposed to be thinking? What are you supposed to be feeling? Did he change his mind that quickly? Did Jay and Sunghoon help him ‘escape’ marrying you?

Your head began to hurt from all the swirling thoughts, trying to come up with a reason as to why he wasn’t there. He always had his phone on him and he was known to be punctual.

What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it? What was it?

“Keep trying,” you said softly. “Maybe he’s late.”

And with that, you walked down the aisle. You opted to have the veil cover your face, close to masking your empty expression. Heeseung was too busy trying to reach either of the three to play your entrance, so silence filled the air. Not long before, a wave of murmurs and whispers came as the congregation began to pity you.

Never did you think you would be stood up, left alone at the altar of all places.

After what felt like hours, you’d given up on waiting, urging the guests to enjoy the reception’s food and drinks. There wasn’t any reason to let that money go to waste, might as well let them enjoy themselves as you walked out, having handed your bouquet to your maid of honour and asking them not to follow you. You just wanted to be alone, almost as if that’s how your life was meant to be; lonely and empty.

You decided to go straight home, sitting uncomfortably in the back of the stranger’s car. It was a struggle to feel anything, let alone cry. Maybe when you were alone and drowning yourself in alcohol, you would.

You had no motivation to change, flopping yourself on the couch and ripping the veil out of your hair. You looked down at your left hand, feeling the long awaited tears well up in your eyes. You’d left your engagement ring in your hotel room, having been excited to replace it with the gold band you would’ve worn for the rest of your life.

Mere seconds later and tears finally spilled down your cheeks. Your pained cries echoed through the cold and empty house, wailing sounding like one of a widowed ghost. You didn’t expect to cry so the mascara you wore ran down your cheeks as you cried.

You cried, and you cried, and you cried until you passed out. You were sure your head would be pounding in the morning but you didn’t care. Nothing could mend your shattered heart, it was too early to tell if you would ever get over it. Most likely not.

The next morning, the after effects of drinking and crying came to bite you in the ass. The entire day felt like a blur but at least you changed out of your dress, sitting on the couch in a ball of tears and emptiness.

The queen-sized bed felt wrong to sleep in. It was cold and unwelcoming, it didn’t seem to want you to sleep in it unless Jake was with you. And he wasn’t. He left you at the altar, gutted and embarrassed and hurt. Like a discarded dog toy.

It may have been just a few days, maybe less than a few, you didn’t know. But one of your friends managed to barge her way into your house, having the only spare key.

Nothing she said seemed to stick, it seemed like her mouth was just moving.

“It was a freak accident.”

You stared at the floor of the hospital’s waiting room, blank and emotionless.

‘He was in an accident. An accident the night before his wedding. He didn’t leave me. It wasn’t his fault.’

It was the worst thing imaginable. There were multiple bystanders, each telling the same story but none of that mattered.

All you remembered was that the three were hit by something huge, too big to jump out of the way of. Jay tried to save the two, tried to push them out of the way and let it hit him first. He died on impact, with the other two managing to survive.

Sunghoon wasn’t fortunate enough as he passed away on the way to the hospital with no way to save him as he’d suffered a heavy amount of injury. Jake, the only surviving one, was put in a coma.

You wanted to offer comfort to Jay and Sunghoon’s families but the info was too much for your broken brain to even try processing that all you could do was breathe, even if it was barely. They had been good to you, Jaeyun’s same age best friends and now they were gone. You couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he woke up.

Days passed and he was still in a coma. Both families wanted him to be there for the funeral but had to go ahead with it seeing as they had no idea when he would wake up. With the two laid to rest, all you could do was wait. Sit at home and wait.

Until the news came. The long-awaited news that he was awake.

You rushed to the hospital, heart filled with relief and anxiety, tears threatening to spill from the joy knowing he was alive.

But you didn’t listen to whatever the doctor was saying. You just wanted to see him, to know he was okay.

His parents and his brother were in the room, talking to him slowly. He sustained heavy brain injury as his head hit solid ground hard enough to cause long term damage. It meant the only thing that you failed to listen to.

Upon seeing his face, his head heavily bandaged, you wanted to cry. There he was, alive and breathing. “I’m so happy you’re okay, Jaeyun, I missed you so much!”

It was a shame that his brother had to hold you back, eventually having to hold you up as Jaeyun scanned your tear-stained face.

“Who are you?”

[herrscherofsentence]

number one Noel simp here- imagine the reader having the bigggest, most obvious crush on Noel and him having absolutely no clue about it. The other choir members have caught on to it way way before he even suspects it

“Being the only gay man in a small rural high school is kind of like having a laptop in the stone age- sure you can have one but there’s nowhere to plug it in.”

“[Supressed screaming]”

Noel Gruber x male!reader

〜♪

summary: read request

A/N: Hi anon ! apologies if this isn’t exactly what you wanted but I couldn’t find another situation I liked to go along with this, but I hope you’ll enjoy this !

—————

Every time [name] would go by Noel his heart always started to speed up. Why did he feel this way about Noel?..being completely closeted as well, was just great! not exactly great but, he didn’t have a crush on Noel. Did he?

How about joining the choir? That sounded like a wonderful plan! But..he soon found out Noel was also in the choir.

So now decides to ignore his feelings for Noel and just enjoy his time in the choir. But [name] also felt so joyful when Noel was around, a day came when after class Constance nugged your arm giggling a bit. However the message she was trying to send [name] went right over his head.

Days became months in the choir then the Fall Fair came to town and what came along with it was the fair’s most famous ride! The Cyclone! Constance kept wanting everyone to ride it so they ended up riding but they rode The Cyclone last as it seemed like the longest ride there.

The apex of the loop came, fear overwaved everyone as the cart derailed, even in his last moments [name] grabbed onto Noel before landing an impact onto the ground. Thoughts raced through his mind and..it came to [name] the reason that he felt this way towards Noel was because he had a crush on him. Why did it take an accident for [name] to realize it?!..

His train of thoughts came to an end as the choir made an impact with the ground. Darkness was next, complete and utter darkness. All alone he was, until someone’s hand slapped his face which caused [name] to wake up. [name] snapped out of the darkness “A warehouse?..” he said to himself, brushing himself off he got up. Mischa was the one who slapped [name] to get up, but the person [name] looked for was Noel, he seemed to calm down.

Should he tell Noel now? Maybe?.. no absolutely not! Uranium wasn’t the friendliest when it came to those that are different and anyways Noel probably isn’t even gay. However, how wrong [name] was, “Meet Noel Gruber,” the fortune telling machine said it goes on to say, “Catchphrase!”

So with that Noel starts, “Being the only gay man in a small rural high school..-“ [name] has a slight blush form on his face, was there going to be a chance between him and Noel..? “..-laptop in the stone age- sure you can have one but there’s nowhere to plug it in.” Noel finishes, though [name] hadn’t heard the whole thing the pink dust on his face got brighter and brighter. It catches the eyes of Noel, as he ran off from the embarrassment of having to say that out loud in front of the choir, but how come he’s never noticed it from [name] before?

Everyone said their cataphases, then Ocean started and finished a solo..In the nonsense of Ocean’s non stop talking Noel takes the chance and goes over to [name].

Nervousness filled [name], he barely talked to Noel in the first place because of how nervous he got around Noel. “it’s probably too late..anyways..” [name] unconsciously said out loud, Noel wasn’t dumb, he knew the other had something for him, but was the the time to confess to him? It’s better to keep a longing ideal of someone to yourself instead of facing the truth..but should the two take their shots?.

[givemeasinglekidney]

Lights Are On | Tsukishima K.

Sorry for not updating! Life got insane if I listed it all out I’d have to make an entire paragraph

Also sorry for not posting the Suna one, I got commissioned to do this one! So I hope you enjoy!

This week seemed like nothing but a drag. For starters, Monday you woke up late, and your alarm clock didn’t go off because your phone wasn’t plugged in and died. The rest of the week seemed like nothing but loads and loads of homework assignments. And to top it all off, you just barely failed your math test. The world had it out for you.

But you had one thing to look forward to.

Your boyfriend.

Tsukishima Kei.

You two met when you were younger, in your first year of middle school. He was trying out for boys' volleyball, and you wandered into the wrong gym by accident trying to find the girls' volleyball gym. You ran into him and that sparked a conversation of witty remarks and sarcastic comebacks. Safe to say, he had some respect for you.

The summer before your first year of high school, he had asked you out. Everything in your eyes was perfect.

You were so supportive of him with volleyball. You ended up quitting because the girl's team wasn’t consistent and you thought of exploring your interests. Michimiya acknowledged your way of thinking and directed you to student council. You thought It’d be great for your future so you signed right up.

You were not prepared

You were not prepared at all.

You didn’t expect there to be so many projects you’d have to take on. All the papers that needed to fill out were insane. You bit more than you could chew due to others who weren’t putting in their effort. This led to you pulling multiple all-nighters and setting aside your needs.

But you always made time for him.

Every game of his you came to cheer him on, regardless of how he told you not to. You knew deep down he appreciated it.

With your combined workloads, you guys didn’t have much time to hang out or go on dates. You barely saw each other at school due to him being in class 1-4 and you being in class 1-5. That's how you made friends with Yachi and Kyoko.

It was finally Saturday and Tsukishima had a game. You were loaded with work, but the thought of seeing someone who loved you made the day a little bit better, so you went.

You knew this was important to him. It was the big game against shiratorizawa, the deciding factor on which team would go to nationals. You had faith in him.

But your heart dropped the moment the ball hit his fingers. By the way, he bent down, you knew something was up. You slowly recognized the red blood dripping from his skin as he walked off the court with Kyoko following behind. You were panicked. How could you not be?

You knew they wouldn’t let you into the nurse's office to see him, so you texted his phone. You may or may not have gone just a little overboard with worry and sent good 20-ish texts asking how he was.

Before you knew it, he was running back onto the court with Kyoko in toll. You couldn’t help but find it a little strange as he didn’t respond to your messages.

The game was over. They had won.

He had won.

You were so excited, you ran down to the first floor to congratulate him. It was crowded but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was him.

You reached the floor and made your way to the team. At the sight of everyone being celebrated, you spotted two blonde and green-haired best friends talking. Yamaguchi’s parents never show up to games, and Tsukishima’s brother was still making his way down.

As you walked closer, you started to hear their conversation.

But your demeanor surely changed.

“I’m sure they were just worried for you-” The shorter one spoke

“I don’t care. It's annoying and they should know it.” Said none other than your dearest boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be babied. I’m fine and it’s annoying as hell for them to constantly spam my phone over a small injury. I barely see them anymore, if they truly cared they’d make more time for me. There’s no way they’re that busy. I'm getting sick of it.”

Oh.

oh…

Your heart shattered.

That’s really what he’s been thinking all along.

Was everything just a lie?

You were in shock. You woke out of your trance as someone bumped your shoulder. Yachi and Kyoko were making their way through.

“Oh hey!” Yachi waved at you. “I’m so glad you made it! It was awesome wasn’t it!”

“Yeah…” You looked down, “It was.”

Kyoko looked at you with slight concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s… um, it’s nothing.” You tried to laugh off, “I just have a lot of work to do, so I’ll be going.” And before they could say anything, you walked off.

You walked your way back home, pace slightly fast as you wanted to be in the comforts of your room before the tears fall out.

You reached your front door and slammed it shut. You couldn’t even slide down the door and wallow since you had papers to fill out. Taking off your shoes, you trekked your way to your room, not bothering to state your presents as your parents weren’t there. They barely were.

Being at home alone all the time made you feel like a ghost.

Like you’re just floating.

Like the lights were on, but nobodies home.

As you worked and worked, downing a coffee and a half, the clock went from 18:07 to 2:28. You had a headache and you weren't even done yet. Stacks of paper filled your desk as your laptop sat parallel to you, the glow making your head hurt worse.

Then there was a very faint knock.

You laid your head in your hands as you bent over onto your desk, fighting the urge to cry. Why was the world against you? All the work. All the pressure. All the absence of those who you loved.

Who you thought loved you.

The knock repeated.

You didn’t bother getting up. What lunatic was at your door at 2:30 in the morning? Being broken into was the last thing you needed.

You were so stuck in your thoughts you didn’t hear footsteps make their way over to your room and open the door.

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t bother turning. Didn’t even reply.

You heard the creek of your bed dip as you figured he sat down. You bed was right next to you desk, so he was sitting not far behind your chair.

“I saw your texts.” He started softly, “And I know you heard me. Yachi told me you left after I had asked if she’d seen you. Kyoko said you seemd upset and I knew you had listened in. I couldn’t sleep, and with the eye bags you come in with every morning I thought you’d might be awake.”

You removed your hands but kept you head on the desk facing down. You couldn’t find the energy to reply. He continued.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voiced questioned with a hint of concern, “Is all of this… Has this been what you’ve been dealing with all this time?”

He picked up some papers in the stack closest to him. You hummed a noise of affirmation.

He sighed, “Look. Im sorry. I guess all the adrenaline from the game got to my head and I said things I didn’t necessarily mean. It’s more of… I just missed you. Okay.”

You turned your head to look at him. He looks back at you.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Wow. I pour the little words I can from my heart to you and this is the thanks I get.” He replied.

You chuckled and rubbed your eyes. “I missed you, too.”

He got up from the bed and stood behind you, leaning down to hug you and rested his head on your collar.

“Take a break.” He mumbled.

“I’d love to, but these papers-”

“We can figure out the papers in the morning. You need rest. And I need my dork back.” He smiled.

“Oh shut up you.” You chuckled at his statements.

“I will when you take a break.” He sighed at you.

You stared at your work load and contemplated. But you were so tired you couldn’t think properly. Your boyfriend noticed and took the chance to start nudging you off the chair and guided you to bed. You laid down and he joined you, snuggling and he wrapped his arms around your torso.

As you drifted to sleep, you discarded the workload of those who couldn’t do the work for themselves. Don’t wake us up, we got nothing for you.

Yeah.

Maybe this can work.

There aint no love

like our love.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - thirty | maybe

You stood on the bus, holding onto the hand strap, music playing in your headphones as you watched the lights flick past the train windows.

Did you make the best decision, telling Hongjoong about Yunho and your parents? You were pretty sure you did. He didn’t tell you you were stupid or make fun of you in any way, and he genuinely seemed to care for your mental state, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked if you wanted him to get rid of Yunho. Fortunately that was a non-issue, since you wouldn’t be seeing him again now that June was back.

You felt weird though and you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because, even though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, Hongjoong showed you more compassion in the few weeks you’ve known him than your parents did in all of the seventeen years you lived with them. He and Maddox were so encouraging and helpful since you started working at Wonderland. Mingi and Dei were too; you wouldn’t even have been working there if it wasn’t for randomly happening upon the first To The Beat busking event and Mingi telling you about the audition. You wondered what it would have been like to grow up with people like them instead of your own family.

Anyway, you might run into Yunho once or twice in the lobby in the future, but you didn’t have to worry about being in such close quarters with him anymore. That was a relief.

Were you still mad at him? In principle, yes, you couldn’t forget how much he had wronged you, especially now that you had told Hongjoong the whole story and it was so fresh in your mind again. In principle though, you had to stick to your guns. You told him that you were no longer friends and it had to stay that way, you didn’t care how much of an accident it was, he should have known better. But really? Were you still mad at him? From an emotional standpoint? You weren’t sure. You hadn’t even thought about him in the past few years before seeing him at the dance studio and jetting out the door. You supposed you had moved on; not even having a reason to think about him anymore is part of moving on, right? You hadn’t even felt the anger from that initial moment in years… you supposed had done it. You had moved on.

You sighed as you looked out a different window.

When you got home you put your bass down, happy the one Hongjoong had ordered for you was supposed to come in tomorrow. You took off your coat and hung it up and stood for a moment, hands on your hips in your quiet apartment.

You went to your bedroom closet and dug through it, finding your old gig bag.

It was the day after graduation. Your parents were both at work and your brother was out. This was your last chance and you were taking it.

You had packed up what little you had into one of your parent’s large suitcases, the kind people with a lot of clothes used for going on vacation. You put in everything you might need, while still leaving a sizable spot for a large item. You had also stolen the rest of your birthday money out of your parent’s closet, since your mom had moved it after finding out about your bass: you rediscovered it easily. She wasn’t even trying. Internally you thanked your violin teacher for doing the only helpful thing he’s ever done in the many years you had been his student: calling in sick two minutes after you had gotten to the music school. Your parents and brother had already left to wherever they we were going after dropping you off and you rushed home for the rare opportunity of being able to find the rest of your money.

But that was weeks ago. Now, you were standing with your suitcase and violin case in front of the pawn shop your mom sold your bass to, looking at it through the window, propped up against the amp with the gig bag nearby and the cable plugged in, arranged tastefully. Somehow, no one had bought it in the time between her selling it and now, but someone was about to.

You walked in and put the violin on the counter. The owner looked up from his newspaper.

“Hi. That bass in the window is mine, I want it back. I want to trade this violin for it.”

He looked at you queerly. “I remember you. Your mom came in and sold it while you cried for her not to.”

“Um… I remember being too shocked to cry, but yeah, she made me watch her sell it. I want it back.”

He raised an eyebrow as he opened the violin case. He took it out and inspected it. He looked at the receipt you brought in the case, you had it all these years because your mom made you keep it as a reminder of how much money she spent on it.

He whistled as he read it. “That much, huh?”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just waited for his verdict.

He checked the violin again. “Well, it shows some wear, I assume you’ve been playing it for a while.”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “Why buy the bass back if you have this nice violin? This is worth way more.”

“I…”

“I won’t tell your mom if I ever see her.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I never wanted to play this stupid violin. I love playing bass.”

He nodded slowly, watching you as you scowled at the thorn that had finally been pulled from your side as it sat in its case on his counter. He nodded again.

“Alright. I’ll give you the bass for the violin.”

“Really? Thank you!”

Taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm, he laughed. “I’ll give you the remainder of the money for the violin as well. Unless you want something else in the store.”

“No, the money would be great, actually.”

He nodded and closed the violin in its case and started to take money out of the register drawer. “So uh, what’s with the suitcase? You leaving?”

“Yeah. I graduated yesterday so I’m getting as far away from my family as I can.”

“Where you going?”

You froze.

He pretended to zip his lips shut and throw away the key. “I won’t tell.”

“Seoul.”

He nodded, paused, and took out more money. He took a small envelope from a stack next to the register and put the money inside and handed it to you. “I’ll get the bass out of the window for you.”

You nodded.

Ten minutes later you had said goodbye and thanked him for selling your bass back to you. You stood outside the pawn shop and inhaled deeply; you might have had two years until you were legally an adult, but this was your first breath as a free woman and you wanted to savor it. You pulled your suitcase behind you, the amp inside and your bass on your shoulder, and turned to take one last look at the pawn shop before you walked all the way to the train. The owner was in the window setting up the violin in the bass’ place. You watched him for a few moments as he arranged the bow nicely so as to attract a buyer, before he looked up and noticed you and waved.

You waved back before starting your trek. What a nice guy.

You stood in the darkness of your bedroom, looking for your old bass was more important than turning on the lights. You unzipped the gig bag and let it fall away, putting the bass on. You pulled the small amp you kept next to your desk over and sat against the side of your bed. You plugged it in and put on the headphones that sat atop it, ready for use.

You checked its tuning for a moment, finding it hadn’t really fallen out of tune. It was just like that for some reason; trustworthy. You played something slow, calm, something that was more meditative droning and experimental exploration of sound waves than it was melodic music.

You hadn’t thought of that moment for a while; getting your bass back, standing outside the pawn shop and breathing what felt like your very first breath and then being wished a safe journey by a man you didn’t even know. You were starting a life that was all yours to do with whatever you wanted to… It was overwhelming. It was terrifying. But it was all yours. Though your eyes were closed as you played, tears managed to leak through. You couldn't believe you were crying over that moment now. Over everything.

You were a teeager again, sitting in her best friend’s room practicing a new instrument for the first time. You were an adult sitting on the floor next to their bed playing an instrument they’ve played for years. You were trapped, caged by the people who gave birth to you. You were free, in a city where your family wasn’t.  You were hated by your family and only had one source of comfort. You were appreciated by coworkers and had more than one friend. Your existence was known by only a handful of people and you were functionally alone. You had fans in the hundreds of thousands who waited to see what new thing you would make.

You opened your eyes.

Maybe you hadn’t totally gotten over it. Maybe, even though you had physically and temporally moved further away from your parents and your childhood, you had ignored your emotions. Maybe thinking about it now, in this way, having told someone - the only person you’d ever told - maybe it was a good thing. Maybe feeling what you were feeling now was the first real step to moving on.

And maybe, just maybe.

Seeing Yunho again had reminded you of all the time you spent together. All the love you had for each other before he betrayed you.

And maybe, just maybe.

You found yourself missing him.

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵

luvvvx • iamthehotdemon •  hrts4hanniehae •

[24-guy]

You can decide from here on out how you take my requests: drawing and/or writing. Whichever you prefer for the specific thing.

Max and Richie playing video games. Pre or during relationship doesn't really matter.

I hope you're not sick of me-

I could never be sick of your requests. :))

And I'm gonna write it since it's easier for me where I am right now (in the kitchen, with no WiFi to be seen).

---

A new club had sprouted up at Hatchetfield High and sue Max if he joined it. He didn't exactly want to. But joining a club would help his resume to joining a good college, and when it proudly presented the advertisement of "Video Game Club", well it didn't seem like the nerdiest thing.

There were those soccer games, right? Yeah. He could just play those. Whatever. It was better than nothing.

The club occupied a computer room where every computer looked older than he was, grimy off-white mouses beside the awful clackity keyboards. It wasn't surprising that Hatchetfield High had a shit computer room, just about all of their funding went to the sports teams to beat Clivesdale in their competing events.

Nobody else had entered the room, yet, and Max found himself wondering who'd even started the club in the first place. He sat himself at the teacher's chair, spinning in it halfheartededly. As the door began to push open, Max turned and slow creeping regret settled into his bones as he saw who was behind it. He should have just taken the hit on not attending any clubs.

---

Richie had wanted to start a club for the past year. It was easy enough, just declaring it to the head and getting approval for it. Video games was a universal enough subject that meant there wouldn't be a big gate to getting involved with it. Ruth and Pete couldn't join for the first session, occupied with drama and science clubs respectively.

Richie's old, ratty PS3 weighed heavy in the plastic bag it was placed in alongside a disc case, and he considered the chance of it snapping under the weight. He shook his head, unlikely.

Richie had gotten lucky when he'd decided to bring the console in that day. He housed it in his locker and not once had Max or the other jocks come to pick on him in front of it, meaning it got kept a secret.

The computer room door was heavy as he pushed it with his shoulder, only looking up once it was too far open to back out.

Max Jägerman sat in the teacher's chair staring at him. Richie's brain set off alarm bells. Shit. This must have been an accident, right? A swift look to the room number confirmed it. Either Max had the wrong room, or he was intending on joining this club too.

Richie, numb from panic, placed the console on one of the desks close to him. He was aware of the eyes burning into the back of his neck and he jumped as the door to the room closed behind him.

The silence was thick as Richie stalled himself from turning around, but eventually he had to bite the bullet and turn, eyes immediately meeting Max's. The tension grew thicker and Richie wondered if he was living in a TV show or anime where he was bound to have unlikely events happen to him.

"So..." He awkwardly broke the silence. He drummed his fingers on the table behind him. "... Video games?"

Max looked like he was debating punching him, walking out or responding. Richie hoped it was one of the last two.

To his relief, Max responded. "Yeah."

Richie turned again and picked up the console, trying and failing to ignore how close he needed to get to plug it into the teacher's computer to get it to show on the projector. It felt like a black hole, being drawn in and pulled towards danger, ever aware of Max's presence.

After successfully turning the console on, Richie once again turned to the plastic bag and pulled out the case of games. He hesitated before handing it out to Max.

"You can pick a game." He said as Max took it from his hands.

---

Max had chosen Little Big Planet 2. Richie couldn't tell you why, but they played it. The classical music was almost humorous as the unmentioned tension sat heavy between them. Customizing their characters went as swiftly as it could have been.

Slowly, they worked their way in silence through the levels. Richie was taken aback by how well they were going through a teamwork based game without saying anything to one another.

That came to an end though as Max found an unreachable collectable. "How'd you get up there?"

"Uh-" Richie looked at the screen.

"There. Where that platform is." Max's character moved back and forth where his half of the screen was. Oh.

"Oh. That. I don't know. I haven't finished this game." Richie admitted, his character joining Max's and giving them a bigger screen to look at.

Max frowned in Richie's peripheral. "That's shit."

Richie swallowed the urge to apologise. "Yeah. Uh. A lot of these levels are difficult with only one player. And my brother's occupied with theatre and his boyfriend so..."

"Okay so we'll beat it." Richie's head snapped to look at Max suddenly. Even Max looked shocked by what he said.

Instead of clarifying, Max put his controller on the desk beside him and got up and left without a word, leaving Richie confused to process what had just happened.

[yes-this-account-is-alive]

I saw the clumsy reader one and I loved it and was wondering if you’d be willing to do it for cypher and sova as well?

terribly sorry this is so late :(

Sova

-an absolute mother hen about it, you give him heart attacks and he scolds you every day

-don't get me wrong, he cares a lot for you

-that care means that he worries a great deal and stresses a lot when you come back hurt to him

-absolutely will not let you get up to chaotic business when he's around

-so if you're planning to do something, make sure he's busy or else his hunter senses will tingle and he WILL stop you

-always has a secure hand around your arm whenever you both walk side by side

-he'd be damned if he let you fall on his watch

-probably thinks you'll won't survive if you were out in the wilderness lol

-refuses to let you go camping outside in fear of his very unrealistic predictions of your demise

"One day, you'll hit a tree, aggravate a bee's hive and fall off a cliff in trying to escape their pursuit."

"Sova, I'm an agent, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself-"

"You were about to stick a fork into the plug point yesterday."

"IT WAS FOR SCIENCE!"

Cypher

-genuinely wonders how you became an agent

-he's dug through your files and even though your grades were average if not more, you still do rather questionable things

-you have somehow tripped every single tripwire he has set up while you were stumbling in the night for a piece of cheese

-were you just... sleepwalking or did you genuinely forget the path from your room to the kitchen

-he finds your antics funny until they aren't when you get hurt

-he doesn't know why he cares so much but seeing you nearly break your arm from just going down the stairs has his soul leaving his body

-he has cctv footage of all the dumb shit you do

-also has a very painful footage of all the accidents you get into

-now his tripwires also have a 'bind' function, they can wrap around the target and keep them on the ground

-you occaisionally find yourself bound by the wire and moving like a caterpillar on the ground

-he chuckles as he frees you but not before chastising you about being more careful

"Honestly, what goes on inside that head of yours?"

[kettlequills]

fic: breaking skin

hi tiffany enjoyers, have a tiny little tiff-centric piece. tw self harm/cutting, canon typical violence, canon typical fatphobia, implied/referenced sex, nica!chucky, c.3.5k. on a03 here.

'“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.'

--

Tiffany takes Jennifer’s body and undresses in the mirror. She wanders hands over an arching neck, soft hips, curving calves, cellulite, stretch-marks and moisturiser-smooth skin. Her sensitive nerves ache in different places when she digs her new-sharp nails in for a pinch. She stares at it until she convinces herself she recognises the birthmark on her arm and her face creasing with pleasure, a frown, a smile, doesn’t look wrong anymore. 

They looked the same in that movie; Jennifer stepped into Tiffany like she is just a dress, makeup, and a fake tattoo, and made it look natural. Familiar, easy as breathing.

Tiffany pokes the face – her face – in the mirror and wonders how she did it.

---

The early days, she keeps Jennifer’s loose black waves. Wears her like a dress, practises the way she moves, watches her movies until she dreams the lines her voice echoes always half-a-beat out of time. Goes through the whole closet and pitches the fine clothes everywhere, gets the bank to change her pin to something she can remember, forgets it anyway. Avoids watching the Chucky movie. Keeps her electronics on the other side of the house as her bath. Locks the door when she goes to sleep. Screens every gift and card the twins get.

Throws herself into the kids. Glen, Glenda, the shadow of the father they don’t know.

It’s supposed to be better. Even when she wakes with good dreams, nightmares and past lives lurk on her tongue like poison. The press wants to know everything, crawl up inside her life like beetles. Jennifer’s agent gets angry when Tiffany says the wrong thing and brings them flocking like vultures. She fucks up interviews and tanks readings.

She says, offer only. They scoff. She leaves with burning cheeks and kills a man on the way out, quick, lethal, efficient.

---

She ruins Jennifer’s body. Takes out her knife in the bathroom and kisses the dimpled thighs and warm, breathing stomach, traces patterns and dagger-lines until her spirit feels rinsed clean and her soul has settled into the animal meat and bone. Licks it up after and tucks her file back between her breasts.

She dyes her hair religiously. Jennifer’s pitch-black is stubborn, cropping up like weeds in her perfect gold curls. She used to go ginger-brown when the dye was fading out, knew it was time to bend her head over the sink and wrap her hair in sweet-smelling dye when crimson fades in the sun-shimmers like bruises on peach skins. Now darkness spills from the crown of her head like nightfall, and Tiffany pushes it back with blistering bleach that burns her scalp.

She leaves herself a lipstick-kiss on the mirror.

---

“Jen,” says Joey, eyes melting with a look she can’t bear. He strokes down her shoulders, all the new scars like silver slashes of moonlight. She asks him to bite her until she bleeds. He is too gentle, like he doesn’t really want to hurt her, like he doesn’t dream of killing her, not like Chucky used to.

She scrapes her nails down his chest and tips him down into her expensive bed, fucks him until he can’t keep his eyes open. They don’t complain about this for long; she’s come back hungry, violent, texts random numbers plugged in the phone she inherited and sees what comes of it. Holds knives to the throats of stars and lets them think her teasing with their mortality is just a new kink. A new fantasy she has to breathe, a new mask she has to play, something that only those who have a part-time affair with the truth seem to grasp. She thinks maybe she loves them all, herself least.

In the morning, he texts her the fancy number of a discreet therapist, exclusively for the glossy clientele of Hollywood, and she screens his calls.

She’s not crazy. Her soul’s just itching against the skin.

--

She eats and eats, curled up on the tile floor of a kitchen that feels too big for a trailer-girl, like it’s gonna swallow up and not taste her on the way down. She puts on weight, remembers effortless, sexy Jennifer swaying with herself and her unknowing audience with a chocolate bar in the prop room, prods the extra layer of fat. Remembers Chucky saying, “Y’know, I always figured you’d let yourself go.”

“It’s normal for women my age,” says Tiffany aloud, and then forgets her birthday when the kids ask.

---

In the days she drinks and eats to pass the time, and at night Jennifer teaches her how to gamble. Tries to, anyway, Jennifer bluffs like lies fall out easy as air, sees the cracks in Tiffany’s face like she’s reading her mind. It’s the only time the little doll seems alive, when she’s raking in the chips, dealing the cards with an easy snap despite small hands that don’t bend right. Tiffany gets drunk, Jennifer eats her now-tiny bodyweight in chocolate winnings, and they both smoke until the gritty clouds billow out the cracked window like hands reaching for salvation. Bloated and sleepy, mind-spinning into a little oblivion and thoroughly beaten at poker, Tiffany slumps into the birdcage until the bars jab her ribs.

“You’re not good at this,” Jennifer observes, and Tiffany rolls her eyes.

“Shut up,” she says, “It’s easier for you. You’re plastic now.”

She googles engines and shows Jennifer how to replace carburettors, how to check the water at the pump hasn’t been contaminated, recites the bylaws of trespass and how to bend them for a night’s berth, how to make a four-course meal in a shitty microwave and a gas-stove off melamine plates.

Jennifer’s wrong-coloured eyes glaze over, numb. Tiffany thinks there’s maybe more specks of brown in the artificial green than there used to be, and wonders if Jennifer or her is responsible. If it’s some infection of them both, if there’s some trace of Jennifer’s soul not quite scrubbed out of her body. Maybe that fragment is what howls emptiness when she fights the screaming doll into her lap and curls her own arms around her into a cage of flesh. Maybe that’s just Tiffany, drowned, folded up and shoved inside a body that has stretched but not quite healed around her soul. She never feels more like a dead thing than when she holds Jennifer close and the sundered edges inside of the body she wears start to bleed like it can feel what it’s missing.

Jennifer’s too good an actress to have to tell Tiffany she thinks she’s trash. She does it in the way she explains the words she uses that she knows Tiffany doesn’t understand, clever, sophisticated language, educated – erudite.

So Tiffany whispers sharply into the trembling doll’s ear how to dispose of bodies, how to axe them into small parts and melt the bones in acid, to scramble a trail so no one can find a trace. Muses aloud how none of Jennifer’s friends know her as well as Jennifer thought.

“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.

–--

The kids are gone to start the glittering lives Jennifer's wealth gives them and she's all alone. Not for long - Chucky is there to snap her up with the inevitability of creeping death itself. She goes back, of course she does. He wants her, admires her. She cleans up his little messes, brews trouble at Harrogate for a quick girl who seems to see through her immediately but is helpless to stop her. She makes his plans fall into place. He needs her and she loves him.

Yet she’s in the bathroom of the hotel room where they met, and the cracked green tiles have sucked her into memory. She’s retraced her steps like the past thirty years have meant nothing, another woman’s body slaughtered in their lovenest. 

Her file is sharp as a needle, surgical, she sits in the bathtub, so it’ll be easier to wash away. Before, when she’d get done, Chucky’d lick up the blood from her thighs and spread her open, groan at the taste of her, iron and salt on his tongue. Tiffany would feel alive, heart bounding in her ribs, body pulsing and singing, the pleasure and the pain and his devotion slinging her into bliss.

But the cuts aren’t anchoring her like they should; the tears still bubble like toxic waste but won’t come out, air hurts like bleach on her raw cheeks. Blood dribbles up and pulses down her legs like licking tongues but there’s no delight, no release. 

Chucky’s back and she’s home, in his arms inside Nica, touching Tiffany and seeing her for exactly what she’s always been, the living-dead lover-killer. Skin on skin, bodies inside bodies, fucking her until she can’t breathe with a young woman’s vigour, like when they were new and in love for the very first time. That first kiss felt so good, but the emptiness is back like the roots of her hair. She doesn’t know why she wants to cry, tells herself, she wants relief , to let the pain wash into her and wring her out. 

“Tiff,” Chucky bellows from the sofa, “Tiff, where’s my fucking beers? I’m thirsty out here!”

“Shaddup, Chucky!” she shrieks, “ Choke!”

“Fuck off, Tiff!” His boots drum on the carpet, coming towards the bathroom; pure adrenaline shorts down Tiffany’s spine like a livewire and she grabs the file, holding it in front of herself. The cuts on her legs sting against the fabric of her pretty designer dress. The bathtub is slippery with drops of her blood.

He shoulders into the bathroom, Nica’s pretty face twisted up in a scowl, lips drawn right up to the gums in a fervid, fiery anger that makes the vein on her forehead throb.

“Fuck’s got into you, huh?” he demands, “Haven’t fed you enough or somethin’?”

His eyes track down her body; he notices the blood. His face shifts funnily, some cross between indigestion and horror. “Aw, shit,” he says, and sits down heavily on the toilet.

Tiffany’s heart thuds hard in her ears. She stares at him, eyes wild and face hot, dizziness wet and red between her toes.  

“Goddamn it, Tiff,” says Chucky, quieter now. The anger in his voice is soft venom rather than cackling fire, all the easier to swallow. His blue eyes glitter like cracked windows, distorted mirrors for maimed souls. “Where’d you put the first aid kit?”

She points, under the sink, only a few steps away. Watches him like a tiger, striped red, waiting for him to turn his back.

“Fetch it here, huh?” he asks, heart-shaped face grimacing sickly inside his golden lion’s mane, “Let’s clean you up.”

She brings him the first aid kit and perches on the side of the bath, hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs. She thinks about the fact he can see her silky underwear and fantasises suddenly about him touching her, smearing his hands through the blood to ease her panties to one side. Heat follows the path of the cooling, sticky blood back up her thighs. She thinks of him sitting down in front of her by the bathtub and using his teeth while she fists her hands in his wavy, knotty hair. She pulses, she wants, she hopes.

“Do you like it, sweetface?” she asks him through lowered lashes. Coquettish, she kicks her heels against the bathtub.

“You’re always pretty, Tiff,” he mumbles back, preoccupied with popping the kit and tearing open the alcohol wipes. He spits each word like they’re sickness itself, an undercurrent in the tremble of his knuckles that makes her ache.

“Awh,” says Tiffany, cradling her chin on her hands, heart warm and full and wanting, “Baby.”

He’s gentle when he starts wiping the blood up and cleaning the cuts, but his smile is a sharp slash when she laughs breathily at the sting and squirms in pleasure. He smooths each plaster on carefully, making sure the sticky edge won’t adhere to broken skin. Circles his jagged, bitten-broken nails into the tender skin under her knee like he’s thinking of digging them in, a rough little pinch just to make her yelp. She bites her lip, hoods her eyes, lifts her feet into his lap. 

His nails chase over her skin like the blunt edges of razors. He remembers himself, twists, grabs a wipe. Starts cleaning her, dropping the blotchy red-flowered wipes into the bloody bath. There’s blood between her toes from when she stood, when she thought he might be coming to hurt her. Nica has such soft skin, softer than Chucky’s had ever been when he was alive. His delicate hands feel warm and renewing against her body, and it has never felt more hers than when he touches her, when he’s just like this. 

“Any more?” he murmurs, glancing over her body to check like he can see under her dress, and her heart melts at the look on that pretty, stolen face. She thinks maybe she can tell herself it’s obsession, teetering halfway between love and rage, maybe even concern.

She shakes her head, now trying not to cry. If she starts blubbering all the week’s saved up tears, she won’t stop for hours, and she doesn’t want to ruin this moment. She wants to freeze it in ice, tear off its wings and press it into her heart, swallow it whole so it can never run away.

“Feel better, Tiff?” he asks her when he’s finished, and she nods. 

Recklessly, she hugs him, ignores how he goes stiff like he doesn’t expect her love. Her arms around his shoulders curl around him, a cage, a tether, a bond, trying to force them even closer, killer soul to soul, her body to Nica’s chest. When she presses her face into his neck, whispering waxy-lipstick kisses against the underside of his jaw, he smells like cheap cigarettes and hotel alcohol, the impermanence of their young graveyard days. Immortal and grinning, Chucky stains the messy slip-knots of Nica’s hair with ash and old, matted blood, then drowns the reek of it under cologne Tiffany buys in high-class scents like malted-wood and honeybee-slaughter.

“Are you still thirsty?” she asks, contritely, “I can get you some beer, or some water? Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you some dinner?”

“Aw, nah,” he says, his storming eyes shifting away, “I’m alright. … You should probably get some iron, though, huh?”

“Later,” she pouts, snuggling into him.

Tentatively, he slides his hands round her waist. She wiggles her hips, hopefully, but he doesn’t get the message and squeeze her ass, lift her onto his lap and play with her like she wants. Chucky’s been a little slow with her since he came back, sometimes, but he’s getting better at figuring it out, acting natural. He doesn’t always know when to pull her close, but at least he doesn’t remember when to push her away, lets her lead their bodies and souls making one on the heart-shaped bed inside Tiffany’s chest. She licks a stripe up his neck. Wants to eat his shiver whole.

“Shall we go to bed, sweetface?” she asks him, a little nervously, eager to impress, and Chucky hesitates. His beautiful, fractured eyes flicker to the door, like he’s measuring how long it would take him to get there. When he breathes, the muscles in his arms tense up.

Tiffany slides her hands down under his thighs, lifts. She is smart enough to heft with her legs, not her back, and Chucky’s feet swing thoughtlessly as she picks him up. He yelps and clutches onto her, his tight grip on her shoulder setting her skin aflame.

“Hey, Tiff, what the fuck?” he complains. “Whaddaya think I am, a sack of carrots?”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his bitching as she carries him to the bed. Sometimes, she wonders why she puts up with all this, maybe Nica would be more polite. (Of course she would be, she thinks, sorry at once, Nica is an angel. Their angel, her angel, deserves anything Tiffany can give her, except freedom.) 

“What the hell do you eat to make you so strong?” he huffs, scrambling up onto his arms. When she flutters around him pointedly, he shuffles back on the bed to give her space to sit down next to him.

Pleased, Tiffany blushes a little at his question. She likes that he thinks of her as strong, likes to be called that much more than fat, even if she knows Chucky only says it like a bad thing when he’s being a dick. She likes even more that when they’re sat next to each other, they’re close enough to touch. 

“ Sweetface.”

“What?” Daringly, he slaps her bicep, light enough not to hurt, but enough that her body jiggles in response. 

Tiffany giggles. He gives her a smile, rakish and darling like a dying man’s last slice of sunset, and she wants to kiss it so badly she hurts. 

“What is this, huh? Where’re you hiding the sixpack?” 

He pokes her belly’s ticklish spots, and Tiffany squeals, slapping at Nica’s scarred-up hands.

“ Stop,” she whines, still laughing, and is a little surprised when he holds his hands up and obeys, snorting.

Something about it, the control, maybe, or the way he doesn’t push it, just ignites her, and she has to have him. In one move, Tiffany rolls over him, wraps her arms around his waist and drags him down over her body until he’s half-lying on her, their breasts pressing together and their faces so close their breath mingles. A tingling runs through her teeth like lightning, like electricity in the water, with none of the pain.

His eyes dart down, checking where his legs lie, then with nonchalant possessiveness he shifts his shoulders and nudges Tiffany’s thigh wider. Delighted at his breath-stealing hands on her body, she lets him rearrange her so his leg won’t press against her cuts. When he goes to sit up, her arms lock around his neck. She needs to keep him close.

“Ah, ah, sweetface,” Tiffany whispers hotly, her nails digging into his nape, “Where are you going?”

“C’mon, hey, Tiff.” He tries a fleeting smile, playing for time, but it dies under the light of her intense stare. 

He licks his lips, desperate, and she shudders under him, squeezes her legs around his hips. The lines of cuts on her legs burn, but it’s nothing to the burning inside her. He touches her encircling arm like he’s thinking of pushing it off and leaving her alone on the bed. But even as he glares down at her, she knows she sees want blooming in his dilating pupils. 

There’s something molten in those eyes, compassion, hate, fear, lust, a hard and poisonous cocktail that makes her more dizzy than any blood-loss, makes her hungry for the flashes of tiredness, tenderness, ambrosia itself, between the cracks. His eye twitches; it’s his tell. He’s bluffing, like he’s afraid to gamble and lose. Or maybe he’s just afraid of her, hates her; Chucky has a part-time heart these days, one Tiffany just won’t resist.

“Don’t go, do it,” she breathes. Lets her neck fall lax, lets her eyes lid, lets herself uncurl beneath him like an offering on the altar. Hopes he’ll bite her. Hopes he’ll make it hurt. Hopes he’ll take the gamble, fall into the addiction, go back to craving her as badly as she craves him, in any body with Nica’s leonine snarl as he poses above her like a hunter with their kill. In this stolen body heavy and real on hers, in a crime scene of sex-stained sheets, hotel-plasters and Tiffany’s pretty white dress. “Do it to me, now.”

Anything that’s worked once is worth a try.

“Fucking – God,” he hisses, like he doesn't know what to say, eyes following the undulation of her body to her chest. She arches to give him a better view, her heart fluttering, begging, pleading. 

His gaze lands on the cold glint of bloody steel just visible in the valley of her breasts where she hasn’t bothered to tuck it away properly, and his lips flatten, his desire flickers. His hands tighten, scarred knuckles straining white; she wants to kiss the tension away and bite it in anew.

“No sharps in bed today, huh?” Tiffany purrs, eager to show him she’s noticed, she can be considerate, she can be sweet too. “I can work with that, honey.”

She grinds down into the bed, fans her nails over his back and digs in. Smirks and shudders her shoulders so her breasts bounce and the file slides out a little more. Her hips roll. He grits his teeth, plants his weight on one hand, grabs the nail file with the other. Each movement is jerky, zombielike, a plastic doll’s juddering in a leaping-smooth puppet.

 “Okay. … Tiffany.” 

He says her name like a curse, an invocation; it never sounds better out of his mouth than from these lips.

The file glitters in his hand like the moon. For one searing electric second, she thinks he might even stab her. She even sucks in a breath to tell him he can (what’s a little more blood and gore between lovers? Second and first thoughts are for losers), and she would never refuse him when he’s like this . But then he tosses it over his shoulder, and instead his hands tangle in her hair. 

Her prepared breath comes out a needy whimper. His grip messes up the sprayed blonde and the black roots; she feels his breath swirl hot and still reeking of cigarette ash over her chin. He cups her jaw with a twisted darkness in his aching, hungry eyes, a look that makes her wonder if he thinks of choking her, if he wants to hurt her, if he wants to kiss her. She moans.

She is alive, her heart pounding against the bones of her wrist, reaching out to him through the prisons of their bodies. He sees through her, sees all of her, the mess of Tiffany crammed into a body not her own, sparking and bright where they meet, mangled and pristine, skin on skin. 

“Kiss me?” she implores, and Nica does.