#even Xanax is fine

[starry-eyed-butch]

Lookin’ for a plug. Midwest.

[secretlyabunny]

oh yeah. why shouldn't i get sick at four AM after spending a day sobbing and suicidal? Why Fucking Shouldn't I?

[mattitties]

Boyfriend, pt 2 - matt sturniolo

you guys asked, so i delivered (hopefully)

part 1 here

I left the party last night feeling on top of the world. I recounted everything to my best friend the second Matt had left and she came back to me.

“I came back from the bathroom and saw you guys totally hitting it off, so I just stood back and watched. I thought he was about to bend you over the bar and fuck you right there,” she told me. 

It’s now the next morning and I’m trying to distract myself and not think about the fact that he hasn’t texted me yet. It’s only 10 AM, so I really shouldn’t be worried, but as someone who doesn’t talk to boys literally ever, I am naturally very worried. 

As the hours pass and it’s now 2 PM, I go into my roommate’s room. “Why hasn’t he texted me? Do you think he was just fucking with me? What if I didn’t give him the right number and he’s now texting some other hotter bitch instead of me? What if I was-” I start to ramble before she cuts me off.

“Oh my god, shut up! It’s been like 14 hours, chill out! He’s gonna text you, and if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. We don’t know anything about him, he could be sleeping still or he could be having a busy day. Take a Xanax or something, good gracious,” she tells me, finishing just as my phone vibrates.

I check it absentmindedly, fully expecting it to be my mom or a spam text, but instead I see an unknown number.

Hey it’s Matt, just wanted to see when your free to hang out?

I let out a shriek and show my roommate my screen.

“Fucking told you!” she says excitedly before her face changes. “Oh boy, he’s one of the fuckers who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re. You gotta fix that.”

“Oh for sure,” I say, starting to type in my phone.

hey :) i’m free tonight or tmr if either of those work

Tonight is good, I can pick you up around 6 and we can get dinner. How does Boa sound?

“Oh my god. He wants to take me to Boa,” I tell my roommate. I’m just about on the verge of vomiting everywhere.

“Oh fuck yeah! Mr. Moneybags over here!” she cheers.

that sounds great!

Sick, whats your addy so I know where to pick up my gf ;)

I give him my address, turn off my phone, and immediately go to my room to take an everything shower and get ready.

I’m finishing up my hair at 5:30 when I get another text: Leaving now, be there in 15 min. I made reservation for 6

I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I was so confident around him last night, but now I feel like a completely different person. I’m terrified I’m gonna be an awkward mess when I get in the car and he’s gonna wonder what happened to the girl he met last night and I won’t even be able to eat I’m so nervous and–

Nope, I’m not worrying anymore. It’s gonna be fine. I triple check everything to make sure I look good, and finally he texts that he’s here.

I grab my bag, go downstairs, and open the front door to our apartment complex, where I’m met with a very familiar face standing next to it. He’s wearing a black short sleeve collared shirt, blue jeans, and a black baseball cap he put on backwards. Man, he looks good as fuck. 

He looks up when he sees me and smiles. “Hi,” he says. “Car’s right there. I was going to come in but then I saw I had to be buzzed into the building and I didn’t know which apartment was yours, so…” It seems that his confidence from last night has lessened quite a bit as well, as now he’s just awkwardly rambling. I find it adorable.

I shake my head and smile. “You’re fine, this is perfect.” I follow his lead to his car, and am surprised when he opens the passenger door for me. “Thank you,” I say as I get in, and he shoots me another quick smile before closing the door and going to the driver’s side. 

“So Boa, huh? You really are trying to show off your YouTube bucks,” I joke.

“Me and my brothers go there a lot, it’s not really that expensive,” he says. 

“Speak for yourself! I was looking at the menu and almost had an aneurysm at the prices!”

He laughs and glances at me. “Well lucky for you, you’re not the one paying, are you?”

We continue our banter for a few minutes before there’s a lull in the conversation. “Do you wanna put some music on? Here’s the aux cord,” he tells me, pulling out a cord.

“Oh,” I say, immediately regretting all my life choices. I am historically NEVER on aux in any situation because my music taste is comprised of Taylor Swift, dad rock, and depressing music. “Um… you may not like my music. We can just play whatever you like.”

He looks at me wearing a tiny frown. “What! You’re the passenger, you get aux. Whatever you play will be fine.”

I sigh dramatically as I plug my phone in and queue Taylor. “Okay, but if you don’t like it, just remember I gave you a chance to say no.” He nods. I watch his face to gauge his reaction as “The Story of Us” starts to play, and I roll my lips into my mouth to hide my laughter when he recognizes the voice. 

“Yayyyy,” he says sarcastically. “I love Taylor Swift…”

The rest of the drive consists of me explaining to him that if he was willing to give her music a try, he would definitely enjoy her music. I was fully expecting him to laugh it off and come back with some smart ass comment about her as nearly every other man does, but he seemed genuinely interested in what I was saying. “You’re right,” he told me. “Maybe we can listen together and you can show me more of her stuff!”

I think I fell in love right there.

When we arrive at Boa, the man nearly eats shit rushing around to open the passenger door for me, and walks slightly ahead of me to get the door for the restaurant. Neither of us have any ounce of the same flirty energy we had last night, but there’s no awkwardness at all. I still can’t believe this is happening. The hottest guy I’ve ever seen, he’s a perfect gentleman, we have so much in common, and he’s actually into me? It seems far too good to be true.

“So,” I say when we get seated, “what exactly made you feel the need to come up to me last night? Did I really look that uncomfortable?”

“Oh, you looked like you were about ready to sink into the floor. I mean, in all honesty, I was kind of eyeing you all night but I didn’t have the courage to come up to you, so I guess I sort of used that as an excuse to do something. Plus saving you from creepy guy and all,” he replies.

“Well, thank you, no matter what your reasoning was.” I look around the restaurant. I feel so out of place, it’s disgusting. I’ve only lived in LA for a couple months, so I still feel like I don’t belong, especially when I end up in the same restaurants that people get papped outside of. But somehow, even in a place like this, I feel oddly safe and at peace with a man that I met not even 24 hours prior. 

I’ve never been much of a great conversationalist; if I’m in a one on one conversation, the other person needs to be a rambler for it to not be awkward. But he’s not a rambler, and we both are just so invested in what the other person is saying that it’s somehow a never ending conversation. We have so much in common – our love for movies, Legos, journaling, us both attempting to get back into reading after going so long without it – I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. It’s so refreshing, and it’s terrifying. I know I’m going to fall for him fast. I may be already, but I can’t be. We just met. 

He pulls me out of my trance by repeating his question. “You ready to go?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, thanks for paying,” I smile as I get up. 

“Of course! What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t pay on our first date?” he jokes. 

“Ohhh, our first date? Does that imply there’ll be a second?” I ask as I get in the car.

“Would you like there to be a second?” 

“I mean I guess…” I smirk at him. We’re both looking at each other, smiling ever so slightly. I want nothing more than to kiss him right now, and I’m 99% sure he wants the same based on the way his eyes are shifting focus from my eyes to my lips. I’m about to lean in when –

“I should get you home.”

Oh. I nod. “Yeah… yeah, probably.” I sit back in my seat.

He turns on the car and Taylor Swift blasts through the speakers. “JESUS–” he yells, turning the volume down as we both start laughing. “I know I said you could show me her stuff but let’s take it down a notch, god damn!”

We don’t talk at all during the drive home, but it’s nice. Just the music in the background, and subtle glances between us every so often. When we pull up in front of my apartment complex, he parks the car and turns it off, then starts to get out.

“You don’t need to get out, it’s okay,” I tell him.

“Well I have to make sure you get into your apartment safe, don’t I?” Again, what a gentleman. I didn’t even think people like him existed anymore. I smile to myself and lead the way, taking him up to the 4th floor and down the hall to my door. “I guess this is where I leave you?” he asks.

“Unfortunately, this is where you leave me.” I’m looking up at him, he’s looking down at me. I can tell he wants to say something, and I hope it’s what I think it is.

He opens his mouth, takes a sharp inhale. “Can I kiss you?”

Bingo. I smile and nod, holding his jaw lightly in my hand. He takes my waist with one hand and the back of my head with the other, and our lips collide softly in a matter of seconds. I haven’t kissed many guys, but they’ve always felt just a little off and I never knew why. But this? This feels right. It’s gentle, but our tongues slip into each other's mouths as the kiss grows deeper. I know I need to stop this here, as much as I don’t want to. I give in for a few more seconds before I pull back. 

“I, um… I need to go inside,” I tell him, completely unable to wipe the smile off my face.

“Okay,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’ll text you, because yes, there definitely will be a second date.”

“Good.” I kiss him one last time before I unlock my door. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

———————————————————————

i probably won’t do a part 3 because idk how to keep it interesting from here but if you have other fic requests lmk and i’ll do my best 😚

[seaslugfanclub]

Hiya! I really like reading your Disney Villains stories. Question could you do a Halloween special and how (Y/n) help deal with the parade and any villains who get scared by some of the scary actors? Thank you <33

Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this is satisfactory, I could only really think of one villain who’s easily spooked ❤️

———————————————————————

Scaredy Villians

“Absolutely not. I refuse to participate in that hedonistic procession.”

“Frollo, it’s a parade for children.”

(Y/N) knew they were getting nowhere with the ex- judge, who was currently barricaded in his dressing room.

While most of the villians didn’t mind Halloween, some even enjoying it (the headless horseman could be seen polishing his pumpkin head around the time) there were always a few outliers.

“Y’know what? How about this, you do the parade and I’ll slip you those ‘magazines’ you like so much?” (Y/N) crooned through the door.

“How dare you try to bribe a holy man-”

“I have the exotic dancer issues~”

A beat passed,

“….fine.”

“Oh my god, thank you. Be out with the rest of the group in 15 minutes, I’ll get you those magazines after the parade.”

(Y/N) didn’t wait to hear Frollos response, instead hurrying down the hall towards the main common area.

“Alright everyone, the parades in 15! Is everyo- where’s Hook?” (Y/N) interrupted themselves, surveying the group of villians, who all began to chuckle and look towards the center of the room.

Hades, with a shit eating grin across his face points to the couch,

“He’s been under there for the past hour.”

(Y/N) groans, rubbing between their eyes as they walk past Hades, to indeed see the infamous Captain Hook halfway underneath the common areas couch. Even from where they were standing (Y/N) could see him shaking. Crouching besides the couch, (Y/N) went to see what the problem was.

“Hook, what’s wrong?”

“I- I’ll tell you what’s wrong!! I’m not going out there.”

“What? Dude, why?”

“He’s scared of spooks, that’s what!” Gaston laughed from the sidelines.

“Scared? Aw Hook, c’mon the parades only an hour long, and it’s for kids too-”

“Don’t patronize me!!” Hook shrieked

“I’m not, what I’m saying is it’ll be toned down. Disney is a far cry from other Halloween festivals, you’ll be fine.” (Y/N) pleaded, the pressure of the parade starting soon causing their voice to strain. But the pirate refused to move.

“Anyone have any ideas?” (Y/N) looked around the room, Facilier grabbing their attention.

“I could ask some of my friends to drag him out from under there, there’s enough shadows tonight for them to force him across the entire park.”

“We want him to go willingly, kids don’t wanna see a pirate passed out from fright.” (Y/N) shook their head.

“I have some Xanax in my clutch?” DeVill chimes in, already rummaging through her bag. Only to be stopped by (Y/N) pulling her hands down.

“What? No!! Your not even supposed to have Xanax!?” They huffed, turning back to the couch as Mr. Smee tried his hand at coaxing out his captain.

“I am not letting those retched cast members get the best of me in front of the entire park!” Hook growled at his first mate. But with that growl came an idea, (Y/N) beginning to jog out of the room.

“Everyone get into your positions! I’ll be right back.”

With that the villians began to file out of the room, some making snide remarks at Hook until the common area was completely empty. Hook waited a couple of minutes before sliding himself out of the couch, not noticing someone plod into the room. Hook straightened his back out, turning around to head back to his dressing room.

… only to be met face to face with a white sheet ghost.

Hook shrieked, leaping a foot in the air, furthering his panic when the ghost grabbed his arms.

“Hook- Hook! It’s ok, it’s just me.” The Ghost pulled back their sheet to reveal (Y/N)’s grinning face.

“You said you didn’t want any of the cast members scaring you, so what if I join you in the parade? I can keep anything from leaping out, and you can tell me if you get overwhelmed.” They explained, causing Hooks mustache to twitch up.

“You… you promise those ghouls won’t pop out at me?”

“Of course, I’ll keep any spooks from even looking at you! But in all seriousness we need to go join the parade, like now.” (Y/N) smiled at him.

Hook thought about for a moment before puffing up.

“If you insist my dear, all right. Lead the way.”

(Y/N) sighed in relief. Flipping down the blanket and grabbed his hook, leading him out of the common room, towards the parade.

———————————————————————

I hope you all like it! I cannot thank you all enough for liking my work ❤️ You guys are amazing.

[theladyofbloodshed]

SJM Romance Week - Day 1 - First Date

@sjmromanceweek

With a fear of flying gripping her tight, Nesta just wants to be left alone to spiral in her panic - that is until a swaggering man holds her hand during take off.

The sweating had begun the second she reached the security line which was never a good sign. Nesta tried to act calm, tried not to keep glancing over her shoulders at the security agents as they scanned bags and bodies. Every damn time she made the machine bleep despite ensuring she had no metal on her, as if the machine knew she was panicking and wanted to enhance her worry. True to history, the machine went off and she stepped onto the painted feet for a guard to wave their wand over her. She didn’t know why she was so worried about the security part; Nesta wasn’t smuggling drugs.

Two hours of agony followed.

The duty-free shops didn’t hold her appeal although she’d toyed with buying alcohol to take the edge off things. She’d taken a Xanax already and mixing wouldn’t go well. A book. A new book to keep her occupied, that would do. She checked her gate, double checked it then triple checked it. Lurked near it way before it was boarding time with her new book clutched in her clammy hands. Nesta mentally catalogued her day. She’d watered the plants, Gwyn already had the spare key to water them when needed, she’d turned everything off, locked the door because she’d checked multiple times, had her travel documents on her phone and printed, had only taken hand luggage so it wouldn’t be lost. Everything would be fine. Of course it would be. She was a planner. But she couldn’t plan who was piloting the plane. Couldn’t plan the weather. Couldn’t plan if a freak bolt of lightning struck the plane and zapped them off the face of the earth. Nesta swigged down mouthfuls of sparkling water. She hated it but it made her burp and that alleviated her churning stomach.

When the agents called for boarding, Nesta was first in the queue. Priority boarding had been purchased so she could panic in her seat. Her legs trembled up the metal stairs to board the plane. Planes flew every day. Hundreds of them. All crisscrossing across the sky. And she’d be on the unlucky anomaly. Because of course she would. Nothing ever ran smoothly in her life.

With an eye mask on and a mindfulness podcast blaring in her ears, Nesta tried to block out the rest of the boarding. She was vaguely aware of bodies moving down the aisle or slipping into seats behind or in front of hers, the judder of chairs or slam of the overhead storage. When an elbow knocked into her to take the seat, she didn’t react, just kept listening to the soothing voice telling her to focus on her breathing.

Fingers tapped on her arm repeatedly until she peeled off her mask.

A man with dark-hair tugged into a loose bun at the nape of his neck was gesturing to her headphones. An air steward was watching, life jacket held aloft for the display. ‘Switch to airplane mode or turn off your devices for take off please.’

Nesta fumbled with her phone, hands trembling to change it. She listened to the safety warnings, terror soaking in.

‘Can we swap seats? I don’t want to look out of the window.’

‘Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to leg room in the aisle.’ The man gestured to his broad thighs and long, muscled legs.

Nesta knew well enough that if she even dreamed of closing the hatch on the window, a flight attendant would snap it back up so she could see just how high they were. Once the safety demo had finished, Nesta plugged back into her bubble. Her belt was on but what use was that against a plane crash?

As soon as she felt motion, Nesta was gripping her seat belt as if clinging onto it might save her. Her hands trembled, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth in her fear as the plane approached the runway.

Then a hand reached for hers. Calloused fingers slid against her own.

Nesta ripped her mask and headphones away in one fell swoop.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘You seemed nervous. Thought you’d want a hand to hold.’

The man’s hazel eyes fell to their hands, still entwined then Nesta yanked that away too.

And then the plane was barrelling along the runway, the force pinning her to her seat so she grasped for that hand again. He gave a low chuckle and cradled hers with both of his. Nesta screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to glimpse the moment they took flight or the way the land below would become more and more distant. At Emerie’s encouragement, she’d watched take offs on YouTube, had even tried to play a flight simulator but both of them had freaked her out just as much.

‘Is it just take off or landing too?’

Her words wouldn’t come out. The whole thing was traumatic. The only reason she was flying was because her sister was due to a drop a baby boy any day and Nesta had agreed to be there for the delivery and first couple of weeks of his life. Without a maternal figure, Feyre had decided that Nesta was the closest thing – ignoring the fact neither of them had a clue about babies.

‘What does that beeping mean?’ she hissed.

The man just brushed his thumb in a circle against the back of her hand. ‘It means we can take our seat belts off, sweetheart.’

Reluctantly, she forced open her eyes. People were already releasing their belts and heading to the bathroom. She had held her own urination on every flight. Only poor planners didn’t go before take-off. It would be just her luck that a plane would meet a fiery end whilst she was sat on the toilet.

He leaned over to slide the hatch down, hiding the outside world from view then his fingers headed towards her lap. Nesta was too stunned to react even as he undid her belt.

‘And what happens if this plane starts to plummet from the sky?’

‘I’m sure you can figure out how to put your belt back on,’ he replied, an easy grin on his face. At her terse look, he added, ‘Relax. This plane has never crashed before.’

Nesta busied herself with her book despite the undercurrent of fear threatening to drown her every time she thought too deeply about how the plane remained airborne. The man next to her read the in-flight magazine then began drumming on the fold-out table.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Have you got a request?’

Nesta’s brows drew together. ‘Stop drumming. It’s irritating.’

When the trolley of beverages was a few rows away, he turned to her. ‘What are you having?’

‘Nothing. If I drink, I will need the bathroom. I am not getting up or going there and tempting fate.’

He gave a bellow of a laugh. ‘You’ve thought of everything. You know if the plane crashes, it will make no difference if you’re sat by me or on the toilet.’

Her face must have paled because he added, ‘But it will fly safely to our destination.’

A handsome, swaggering smile was offered to the air stewardess when she approached. ‘Two coffees, chips, M&Ms and whatever drink has the most sugar.’

There was a veritable feast laid out in front of him, but a coffee was placed on the little table that he unfolded at her seat. The M&M pouch was torn open and shook in front of her face.

‘Go on, treat yourself.’

‘Do you just fly around the country and trap women in airline seats so they can’t get away?’

He ran a hand against his black hair. ‘Should I have gotten the peanut ones?’

Nesta took a few and tipped them into her mouth.

‘Careful, sweetheart, you don’t want to choke while the plane is crashing.’

‘You are not funny,’ she complained.

‘When they need to identify your body, what name will go with it?’

This time, she nearly did choke on her handful of M&Ms. ‘Are you serious? Is that how you’re asking my name?’

He spread out his hands, evidently pleased with that terrible line, awaiting her answer.

‘Nesta.’

‘Cassian.’

They chatted as the plane continued on its journey, drinking their coffee and eating his snacks. They shared the can of coke, her inhabitations well and truly lowered by the Xanax if she was willing to swap saliva and drink from the same can as a stranger. At the first signs of turbulence, Cassian was there to hold her hands and murmur embarrassing stories about his friends to stop fear paralysing her.

Once the cabin crew had swept through to collect the final few items of rubbish on the short flight, Nesta was clamming up again. She knew what was to follow.

‘Cabin crew, prepare for landing.’

Clouds streamed past the window, adding to the turbulence. Nesta was too scared to even reach for her mask which had fallen on the floor.

Cassian wound his fingers into hers. ‘I’ve got you, sweetheart. It will be okay.’

Every bump had her gritting her teeth so hard, it was a wonder that one of her molars didn’t crack. Cassian just kept talking in a low voice about inane topics to try and shave the edges off of her fear. His arm wound around her shoulders, forehead touching her temple, whilst his other hand still held hers.

‘This is the nicest first date I’ve ever had.’

That snapped something in her. ‘This is not a date.’

The nose of the plane dipped and her stomach lurched from the motion.

‘We’ve had coffee and snacks. We’re holding hands. You’ve shared your deepest fears of dying in a blazing crash. To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.’

Nesta ground out, ‘I hate the Smiths.’

‘Everybody does,’ he said.

With a bump that made her squeeze Cassian tighter, the plane landed. It sped down the runway and Nesta kept her eyes firmly shut for the entire duration until Cassian murmured that they had stopped.

‘You see, a safe flight after all.’

‘Fortune was cruel enough to put me next to you. A crash would have really tipped it over the edge.’

Cassian lifted her bag down for her, his black t-shirt rising to expose a strip of his taut muscled stomach. His own was a well-used duffle which he slung over his shoulder.

They walked together towards the airport building.

‘Do I get your number then?’

Nesta cocked a brow at his boldness. ‘Absolutely not. I’d rather be the one that got away.’

‘Every flight I’ll think of you, wondering if you’re stealing another man’s snacks.’

Nesta pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss as they parted into two different lines at security.

The man had to be mad, she decided as she passed through passport control. No sane man would just start holding a stranger’s hand – and she was an idiot for reciprocating that touch. But it did sting a bit that he’d accepted her refusal so easily. After how tactile and caring he’d been, she thought maybe Cassian would have pestered her again for her number or her socials. Whatever. His loss.

Her fear of flying meant that she’d sweated through her deodorant so she hurried into the bathroom to change her top, clean her arm pits with a baby wipe then slather on more deodorant to appear a little less dishevelled. Nesta spotted Cassian waiting at the baggage carousal for more belongings to come rolling around so she scurried past, avoiding his attention. Fantasy was more fun than reality. Maybe he’d be her one that got away.

After passing through anything to declare, Feyre was waiting for her. The huge belly wasn’t a surprise but it was still a shock to see her little sister so heavily pregnant.

‘Wow, look at you!’

‘I am peeing every ten minutes,’ she replied, holding up her belly.

‘Hi, Rhys.’

‘Nesta,’ he said, swooping to press a kiss on her cheek.

They’d met once. And it had been awkward as hell when Nesta realised he was eight years older than her. He wasn’t the sort of man she’d ever choose, but Feyre seemed happy. They were on “Christmas Card closeness” usually so Feyre’s call asking her to come and be close for the birth had meant a lot. Meant enough that she was willing to fly two days later.

‘Where’s the rest of your luggage?’

‘I had it sent ahead.’

Feyre patted Rhys on the arm. ‘Nesta hates flying. Everything is planned to an inch of its life. No detours, no unnecessary waiting. On the plane, off the plane.’

Even being in an airport, with its constant business, had Nesta itchy. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Do you want to head to the car, ladies? I’m worried about you standing for so long, darling.’

Feyre shook her head, golden hair cascading from the motion. ‘I’m fine. Cassian won’t take that long.’

‘Cassian?’

Nesta could practically hear the alarm bells ringing in her head.

‘My brother,’ said Rhys.

‘He works on an oil rig but he’s home for a couple of months now so you two can argue over who is the best uncle or auntie,’ teased Feyre.

There he was, striding through the doors, duffle bag slung over one shoulder while pushing a cart loaded with three more bags. His eyes snapped straight to her, a slow grin spreading over his face.

They said their greetings, Nesta and Cassian pretending that she hadn’t just been clinging to him in terror on the flight here then they fell into step together, walking slightly behind Rhysand and Feyre.

‘Fortune favours you,’ he murmured.

‘Did you know who I am?’

Cassian gave a hearty laugh that had Rhys glancing his shoulder at them. ‘Not at first. You looked familiar then you said your name and I realised you were Feyre’s sister.’

‘Lucky me,’ she grumbled.

With one hand pushing the trolley, he slung the other arm around her shoulders. ‘So, about that second date.’

[makos-hotbox]

Hello! Saw that ur taking requests soooo may I request a coffee shop au where the MW2 characters are the baristas? Pairing would be König with a male reader (he/him)... So basically reader is a regular and König has a crush and the others are just teasing him so much about it that reader eventually heard them? Just fluff all around!! ❤❤❤ (You can just ignore this if you don't want to write it btw!💓)

LARGE FONT VER. (coming soon)

… 𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐗

`⌁ ◜ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐢’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞? ◞

Relaxing music was heard throughout the building. The dining area was empty as König leaned against the counter with his eyes closed. Trying to focus on the lyrics of the song rather than the customer who had just left with an even worse attitude than they came in with. His anxiety was at peak right now, the confrontation could’ve been avoided.

A lady had come in to get her “usual”. Causing König to let her know that he didn’t know her, let alone if she had a usual. He had expected her to just tell him her normal order, but instead she freaked out on him. It went on for about ten minutes. Even Ghost and Soap stepped in to try and calm her down to no avail. Once she was done with her temper tantrum, the woman left. No coffee in hand.

All of the yelling easily made König’s heart race, not the best thing to start his morning shift with. “You okay, König?” He heard Ghost ask. Opening his eyes to see his concerned coworker, König nodded his head slowly.

“Ja, I’m fine. Just not the thing I was expecting this early.” He nervously chuckled, getting back to work and refilling the coffee beans. Simon nodded his head in understanding, just wanting the Austrian to be feeling okay. He also went back to doing his chores.

A few minutes later, Soap came to the front from the kitchen. “Try these.” He handed König a couple of differently flavored cookies, the taller man immediately taking a bite out of one. Soap was the shop’s baker. Constantly coming up with new fucked-up flavors for König and Ghost to test and approve or deny.

Soap stood in front of König patiently, arms crossed over his chest as he awaited his answer. He watched König’s facial expressions closely. “Wow… these taste great, Soap! And they look just as good as they are. These are gonna sell out so fast— oh gott.” König interrupted his own rambling by shoving the remainder of the cookies into his mouth, completely whipped by the flavors.

A large cocky grin was plastered on Soap’s face. Laughing at König’s love for his treats, it made the Scot feel proud of himself. “Good to know they passed the test. I have tons o’ batches ready to go on display.” Soap looked around the shop, noticing it was empty. An idea sparking into his head to tease his coworker. “Aye, where’s y/n? ‘E hasn’t shown up yet. Usually would have been here by now.”

König’s eyes widened at the mention of your name, but he also was confused. Soap was right, normally you would have already come into the shop. But it’s way past the time they always see you. “Huh… I don’t know. Maybe he was busy today?” König pondered, a slight drop in his mood at the realization he didn’t get to see you today.

Yes, König was crushing. He knew it, and so did everyone else who worked in the shop with him. König couldn’t spend a single shift without being teased by one of his coworkers. He didn’t mind though, because all the teasing was just the truth. There wasn’t a single ounce of shame or embarrassment in König’s mind; you're a great person!

Every time you came to the shop, you would ask König to pick a drink for you to have. And while he makes his favorite drink for you to have, the two of you will talk about whatever is going on at the moment. Whether it be about your job, life, or something stupid, König was all ears. Gott, he loved hearing you talk. He felt natural around you, not shy and filled with anxiety. Soap joked that you were his Xanax.

“König? Earth to König?” Ghost snapped his fingers in front of the Austrian’s eyes, knocking him out of whatever trance he was in. “Stuck in La La Land?”

“Nope, Simon he’s stuck in Y/n Land. He hasn’t shown up yet today.” Soap interrupted, nudging König, causing him to roll his eyes. He grumbled some German curses under his breath as Soap kept his teasing going. The Scot seemed to annoy Ghost more than his actual victim.

Ghost clamped his hand over Soap’s mouth. “Johnny shut it.” He turned his attention back to König, “so when are you asking him out?”

The question alone caused König’s face to flush red. “Uh…” he fiddled with his hands, suddenly nervous under the eyes of his two closest friends who were waiting eagerly for an answer. “I don’t know! I like him a lot, but what if he’s not even into guys? What if he laughs at me for even asking that?” This was the first time König had ever felt anxiety about you. Mind spinning with the endless possibilities of what could happen and a majority of them were negative. He couldn’t help but worry.

“Okay and? What if he doesn’t laugh at you and instead accepts? Ever think about that one?” Ghost interrupted, trying to put König’s anxiety at ease. König couldn’t think of a comeback, Ghost was right. There was an equal chance you would accept or deny— but why was he so worried?

“Come on König! It’s bad ‘nough watching you become mush all because he-“ Soap was interrupted.

“Why’s König becoming mush?” Your voice hit the three workers’ ears, sending an adrenaline rush of quick panic.

König spun around quickly, facing you with a nervous grin on his face. “Y/n!” Behind him, Soap grabbed Ghost by the apron and dragged him into the kitchen to leave König with you; great. “You snuck in!” The Austrian awkwardly laughed, hoping you didn’t hear any of the conversation from before. How long have you been here? How did no one hear the bell?

“I sure as hell did. Come on, don’t be surprised. I come here almost every day.” You commented, noticing the slight redness on his face. König moved over to the register to order your drink; it was the beginning of the week, meaning he had a new favorite drink that he wanted you to try.

He tried to keep up a conversation with you. “I thought I wouldn’t see you today, working late?” You shrugged your shoulders, a small grumble leaving your lips.

“Not really, I’m actually looking for work. Had to quit my last job.” You explained, König frowned. But an idea popped in his head.

“Why don’t you put in an application here? The hours and pay are good. And I think you would like it!” He smiled, a genuine sign that he wanted to help you. Hell, he would help you with anything if it meant he could be around you.

You nodded your head, thinking it would be a good idea. “Maybe I will. Oh! By the way, what was all that talk about you turning into mush?” You leaned against the counter, a cheeky smirk on your face. “You like someone König?” Wiggling your brows at him, he cowered under your gaze. He was nervous, but he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of this opportunity. You can do it, König.

He’s never been good at flirting, let alone conversing with people he likes. But gott, he was going to try. “…maybe I do.” König mumbled, watching your surprised expression. He finished your drink and handed it to you over the counter.

Taking the drink, you continued your interrogation. “Who’s the lucky guy? What’s he like?” You took a sip, waiting for his answer. König swallowed nervously, now suddenly debating on telling you or not— wait.

“Well- wait. Lucky guy?” König’s heart dropped. How did you know?

“Yeah! I heard you worrying about whether or not to ask him out when I got here. Plus I kind of already thought you liked guys, sorry for assuming.” You replied, a smile appearing once again. König avoided your apology, it was well known he wasn't good at masking as straight, so he didn't mind the assumption. “Personally, I think you should ask him. The worst that could happen is getting rejected and never seeing him again. But if you don’t, you completely lose a chance of any sort of date happening.”

König nodded, half of his mind was trying to pay attention to you and seem normal. The other half was trying to muster up the courage to go with your advice right then and there. You were genuinely trying to help him through this, and that only made him fall further into the pit of attraction he had for you. “So, would you rather take the opportunity and face the possibility of rejection? Or just completely avoid it all and receive absolutely nothing?” You awaited his answer, the Austrian looking away from you as he sorted through the hurricane of thoughts going through his head.

“I don’t think I want to miss this chance…” He said quietly, barely heard over the music coming from the speakers. Your head cocked to the side, not hearing what König said. “Okay. Y/n, i'm sorry that it took me so long to ask out of nowhere– but i like you a lot and i was wondering if maybe.. You would like to go on a date with me?”

Scheiße, das war lahm. König slapped himself mentally for such a lame question. And another one for asking that right after you had given him advice. Seeing your shocked expression on your face sent waves of embarrassment and guilt down his stomach. Who asks their friend out after just receiving important advice from them? Was it weird? König opened his mouth to apologize and accept the rejection he was expecting, but the grin on your face stopped him.

“I honestly didn’t think you would do it.” König’s brows furrowed, what did you mean? “Your face gets a little more red every time I come here, I noticed. And Soap has told me how you wait for me to walk through the door every day.” You leaned over the counter to get closer to him, placing your free hand over his. His eyes, expressive as always, widened as he stared at you. A red tint on his cheeks that only got worse as he realized how close you were. Scheiße, König’s heart was beating so fast and loud he was positive you could hear it. What the hell was happening right now?

“And i think all of that– and you– is fucking attractive as hell. So, yes König, I would love to go on a date with you.” König felt like his lungs were going to explode and his heart would fail. You accepted? He couldn’t contain the wide grin from forming, a loud breath of relief leaving his lips. His euphoric thought train was interrupted by the sound of your laughter, you were laughing at him. But not because he was funny.

It's because he looked starstruck. Like a teenage boy who just got his first girlfriend and first kiss on the same day. He felt like it too. König waited for you to calm down before offering, “I’ll pick you up at seven?” You grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down your phone number and address, handing it to him.

“Sounds perfekt.”

»»»

Soap and Ghost stared through the crack in the door, watching König shuffle his feet and lose himself as he finally asked you out. Ghost had to hit his friend multiple times to get him to keep quiet. Soap only got louder from all of the hitting. “Johnny, shut up. If you get us caught, we can’t take on the angry Austrian.” Ghost hissed at the Scot, earning an annoyed side-eye instead.

“I don’t listen to people who hit.”

Smack!

REQUESTS:: OPEN

» 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 / 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 … 𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

I'll Keep You Safe // Shauna Shipman

request: It would be like the reader has been pinning after Shauna for some time, and Shauna likes her back, but the plane crash happens, and the reader gets injured, and Shauna takes care of the Reader?

prompts: none!

summary: you had always been terrified of flying, so shauna promises that she'll help you make it through. but after a horrific crash, her promise comes to mean so much more.

warnings: blood, injuries, plane crash (kinda obvious lol), drug usage (xanax), not proofread

word count: 1.3k

a/n: implied fem!reader but no pronouns or defining features mentioned

You clutched the straps of your backpack tightly as you boarded the plane. You had always been horribly afraid of flying, but you didn’t really have a choice. The Nationals game was coming up quickly, and you wouldn’t have had time to drive all the way to Seattle if you wanted to be there in time. So, you didn’t really have much of a choice if you wanted to play in the game.

Finding an empty window seat, you sat down, placing your backpack on the ground in front of you. The flight would only be a few hours, you could tough it out. Hopefully. Luckily, you managed to swipe some of your mom’s xanax before you left that morning. You’d just take the pills and sleep through the flight. You’d wake up in Seattle and it’d feel like you never even left the ground in the first place. It wouldn’t be that bad. Right?

“You nervous?” Shauna asked, sitting down in the empty seat beside you.

Just hearing the sound of her voice made your face heat up, a warmth covering your cheeks. You looked over to her and smiled weakly, hoping to appear at least somewhat normal.

“Is it that obvious?” you laughed nervously, fiddling with your necklace.

She smiled. “A bit. You look really pale, and you’re shaking. First time flying?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve- I’ve done it before. Just not in a long time. And I wasn’t this terrified of it then.”

She grabbed your hand comfortingly, shooting you a warm smile. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine. And I’ll be right here the whole time to help you through it.”

You smiled back, feeling your blush only getting worse. “Thanks, Shauna.”

“Anytime, y/n.”

The plane started moving, and you instinctively went to double check your seatbelt. Shauna giggled softly.

“You’re gonna be fine, y/n. I’m sure of it.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to at least try and believe that her words were true. You reached down into your backpack and grabbed the pill bottle you swiped, taking out a xanax and swallowing it. You offered the bottle to Shauna.

“You want one? It’s xanax. I’m hoping to just sleep through the whole flight.”

She smiled. “Sure, why not?”

She took one of your mom’s pills, and you put the bottle back in your bag. Soon the plane was in the air, and your surroundings began to blur. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

~

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n!” Shauna yelled, shaking you by the shoulders, trying to get you to wake up.

“Wha…?” you asked, still half asleep and delirious.

Shauna said something else, but you didn’t quite understand it. Then you felt something weird. It was almost like falling. You thought it was just a side effect of the pill, until you heard the screaming. Then a stinging on the side of your face jolted you back into reality. You looked over surprised to find out that Shauna had slapped you.

“Wake up!” she yelled, the worry in her eyes making the panic building inside of you even worse. 

You looked out your window and saw the mountains getting closer. And closer. And closer. And then it was black.

~

You slowly blinked awake as you felt yourself being carried. No, not carried. Dragged. Your vision was blurry and you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. Your eyes came into focus and you saw Shauna above you, dragging you out of the remains of the plane you had once been in. Suddenly, it was like the fog in your mind had cleared. You realized what happened. The plane had crashed. You were stranded.

“Y/n? Y/n, you’re gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be fine, just- just hang on,” Shauna said, setting you down against a tree.

“Y/n, are you alright? Does anything hurt?” she asked, her voice shaking in worry.

“I think so. But I can’t…” you trailed off as you reached behind you to touch your back. Your hand came in contact with something wet. 

You pulled your hand back to look at it, your eyes widening when you saw the blood covering your fingers. Your mouth went dry and you couldn’t form words. Fear took over your body, filling your every sense. You couldn’t feel anything below your waist and there was blood on your back. No… It can’t be what you’re thinking. Right?

“Oh my god! You’re bleeding!” Shauna gasped, gently pulling you forward to look at your back.

A large jagged scrap of metal protruded from your lower spine. You had said you hadn’t felt any pain, but how could you have not felt this? Unless…

“Y/n, can you move your legs?” Shauna asked, her voice quivering.

You tried to move them, even just wiggle them a bit, but they didn’t budge. You tried again, but it wasn’t working. You couldn’t feel them, and you couldn’t move them. You let out a choked sob as the reality of it all sunk in. You were paralyzed from the waist down. Your spinal cord must’ve been severed by the metal in your back. Maybe if you were back home, you could’ve gotten to the hospital in time for them to fix this. But you were in the middle of nowhere, and there was no telling if or when help would come. You were stuck like this. And there might not be any chance for you to fix this.

“Oh my god,” Shauna whispered, pulling you into a hug.

You sobbed into her shoulder as you hugged her back, clinging to her tightly. Shauna squeezed you even tighter, and you could’ve sworn you heard her sniffle.

“We’re gonna fix this. It- it’ll be okay,” Shauna said, but you could tell she didn’t believe her own words. 

“How? I- I’m never gonna walk again. I can’t run, I can’t play soccer, I can’t even stand up! It’s never going to be okay!” you yelled, still sobbing heavily.

“I- I’m going to fix this. I’ll take care of you, y/n. We’ll make this better. Somehow, we’re going to get through this. But right now, we need to get that thing out of you before it does even more damage.”

You nodded, sniffling. Shauna helped you to lay down on your stomach. She walked away and came back with Misty and Tai, along with a first aid kit that had miraculously survived the crash.

Shauna knelt down in front of you. “Okay, they’re gonna pull it out. Just- just hold my hand. Focus on me.”

You nodded, grabbing Shauna’s hand tightly. Misty handed you a balled up scrap of fabric.

“Here, bite down on this. You might still have some nerves intact, so this could hurt.”

You bit down on the fabric, and squeezed Shauna’s hand even tighter. Without warning, Misty and Tai began to pull out the metal scrap. You screamed out in pain, biting down on the fabric harder. You couldn’t feel everything, but what you did feel was the worst pain you had ever experienced. You clutched Shauna’s hand even tighter, your eyes welling up with tears again. You felt your head spin and your vision went spotty.

“Okay, it’s out! You did it! It’s out, y/n,” Shauna said, trying to smile, but you could tell she was still panicked.

Misty and Tai sewed up the wound on your back and bandaged it. Shauna helped you sit up again, and you rested your weight against her. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and you placed one over her torso. You heard sniffling and looked up to see Shauna was crying.

She smiled down at you sadly and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Despite everything you had just been through, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and your face grew hot.

“I’m gonna take care of you. I promise that no matter what happens, I’m gonna keep you safe. We’re gonna make it through this.”

“Will we?” you asked.

“Yeah.” Shauna nodded, but you could tell by the tone of her voice, that she was lying. 

tags: none!

[witchthewriter]

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros.  Word Count: 1k Warnings: mentions of dead bodies, drugs...usual sons of anarchy malarchy - you know the drill

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Sure, you’d seen some stuff throughout your job working with Skeeter, and therefore the Sons, but this … this really took the cake.

  “How the fuck am I meant to burn all this within the next two hours?” You snapped, looking at the blond-haired Prince of Charming.

See, most people wouldn’t get away with talking to him like that. Especially after the death of his wife, but what he was asking for was delusion at best.

 Jax considered lighting up a cigarette, one of the only things keeping him sane these past few weeks. But his consideration for you was bigger than you knew.

   “I know it’s asking a lot-“

You cut him off with a sigh. And then the door jingled, and you knew you were about to be surrounded by Sons.

    “How’s it goin’ in ‘ere?” The well-known accent still sent shivers down your spine. Chibs Telford could always make you blush, even if you didn’t feel as attracted to him as … someone else.

  “It’s going absolutely fine,” you grunted, moving to get the phone to call Skeeter. In any other circumstance a person reaching for a phone would set the Sons off, but not with you. Not now, anyhow.

 The first time you interacted with the group of bikers on your own, you had about four different guns aimed at you. But for some reason… for some ungodly reasons, you just. Weren’t. Scared. Not then, and not now.

  “Zo doesn’t think she can do it all tonight,” Jax replied to the Scotsman, his arms folding in front of him.

   “Oh- I did not say that.” He had dangled the bait and you jumped straight for it.

“We’ll double yer usual price lass,” Chibs interjected, knowing the argument that was about to ensue.

Your eyes flicked to Jax and you scowled, “you could’ve started with that.” Pushing the end of call button, you shoved the phone into your back pocket and shook your head.

  “I was getting to it…” he replied, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Nose flaring you said, “bring it around back.”

                                                            ✶ ✶ ✶

 You had gotten used to the stench of the crematorium. Probably not a good thing, but hey, with the pay being as good as this, you really couldn’t complain. Funnily enough, working with the Sons – you thought they’d be horrible. But they had always treated you well (once they trusted you).

Many others couldn’t say the same, but you knew you were always safe when they were around. The men each looked out for you in their own ways. Chibs brought food with him whenever you’d get a call at three in the morning to come to the crematorium.

 Tig’s offering being some sort of drug; Xanax, weed, oxy. He asked if you wanted a dog once.

Happy was usually the one to stay later than the rest, to make sure you locked the place up and got to your car. He’s actually brought you some of his mother’s homemade meals.

 Jax was different though. Always the first there and the first to leave, like being near you was difficult. Especially after Tara’s death. You had no idea but you reminded him of her in many ways. Headstrong. Stubborn. And your hair colour was very similar. It was a punch in the gut to see you. And it wasn’t just because of that. Even when he was married his thoughts drifted to you. It was wrong, he knew that. And that’s why now he felt even more guilty.

  Out in the cold night air, the Scotsman gave you the fat envelope. The carpark was deserted, save for the motorcycles and your own car. That was another thing you had gotten used to, the eeriness of it all. Getting in your car and driving down here in the early hours of the morning. What some would call the witching hours.

   You didn’t believe in the supernatural. Because if you did, then every noise, every moved object and creaking door would give you a heart attack. Most days you worked alone here, Skeeter entrusting you to do his services. He popped in for a few hours every week, and he wasn’t that bad of a boss. Creepy? Yes, but not in a I’m-a-woman-you-make-me-feel-uncomfortable type of way. He just had an air of unearthliness about him.  

Since being the go between with the Sons and Skeeter, you had earnt their trust indefinitely.

 The Sons heaved the bodies onto stretchers and wheeled them in through the back door. The fire had begun to swell and swell, making everyone who came near start to sweat. When Tig and Chibs saw that every piece of evidence was inside, they jumped on their bikes and left. Not before giving you a swift kiss on the cheek.

 Inside, you had on your gear and made sure every piece of … what needed to be incinerated, was. It never got old, watching those hungry flames take their next victim. Eat them up and beg for more. Like a tiger in a zoo, the fire took whatever it could and hissed at whatever came near.

You looked at the clock that hung above the doorway, 4:35am. Your eyes stung, and you blinked a few times but it barely helped. Even with your goggles on, the smoke crept outwards whenever you opened the door.

 Registering the time, you realised they had arrived an hour and thirty-five minutes ago, and a small part of you wanted the time to go over two hours. Just so you could wave it in Jax’s face. Was that cruel? You thought, but you shook your head and turned to close the door on the last body.

   Shucking off your gear, you turned off the lights and locked each room you walked past. You knew Happy would be waiting outside. Grabbing your bag, you walked out the back door and locked that too.

  “And you said it was impossible…” Jax’s voice drawled, with a lit cigarette in his hand.  

You jumped, not expecting the proximity of another human being. Usually, Happy just sat on his bike, or on the bench inside.

  “Good thing I get paid either way,” you retorted, trying to gather yourself from the scare. But you saw the way Jax’s eyes lit up as he looked at you.

[brightside-of-the-upsidedown]

-gently opens the door this time-

AU where Vampire Eddie was going to eat Steve but Steve is acting so pessimistic it's hilarious but also "I know this is weird coming from the guy who was gonna eat you, but dude are you, like, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Hey, can you do something cool with my body? Like hang it on a basket goal? Or bury it, I guess that's fine. At least the worms will enjoy my company."

"Yeah, so, honestly, I think if I eat you, I'd need to pump you full of Xanax first or I'll get a bad trip."

"I'd like to make the front page of the state newspaper, if possible. Maybe dad will even show up for my funeral."

"....Come on, I'm getting you a drink."

"I don't drink blood?"

"Vodka. We need a lot of vodka."

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

ted on a tuesday

when ted came into annie's office, he alluded to an incident with his daughter but seemed to want to work up to it, instead going back and revisiting their conversation from the previous week about a coworker he'd been having issues with. he continued to think this woman's comments in meetings were designed to undermine his contributions, and if in fact she was wording things the way ted described, that was exactly what she was doing. annie was hesitant to take his side out loud, though. she wasn't sure ted needed the ego boost.

was ted sexist? she mused. probably not, i mean here he was confiding in a 27 year old female therapist. he'd been remarkably candid with her over the course of their time together so far, even admitting to bouts of erectile dysfunction (though refusing to take even the free samples of ED meds annie had in her desk).

he also seemed to get a long very well with his 16 year old daughter, but annie was fairly certain that was less a testament to ted's fathering and more of a commentary on his wife and her jealous, suspicious mindset. a week after ted had started seeing annie, his wife had barged into her office to see if the operation was "legitimate." she'd apparently suspected prostitution. annie was very firm and calm with this hysterical woman and had practically chewed a xanax down to the atoms after she'd left. that woman was rarely far from annie's mind when ted described issues at home. maybe it was unprofessional, but annie had repeatedly assured ted the home issues were "unequivocally" not his fault. at work it was harder to say. and with the daughter, it was harder to say.

finally, ted got around to the incident. he explained that he'd walked into his daughter's bedroom two nights early and encountered her doing a "sex act" with her boyfriend.

"a sex act?" annie had asked, quizzically.

"yes," he said, not elaborating.

ted was bothered because his daughter had apparently not done anything to cover up or be apologetic about whatever she was doing.

gradually, annie understood that the girl had been receiving oral sex, and was somewhat graphically exposed on her bed. essentially, ted was rattled because A. he'd seen his daughter's pussy and B. she hadn't seemed to mind.

"odd question, but what's the level of comfort with nudity in your house?" annie had asked him.

"very low?" he'd said.

"has your daughter ever... has she ever seen you?" annie asked.

"i suppose maybe," he said. "like, i don't know, i remember i had a problem with the shower one time, leak in the basement, i ran down there with my dick out." he laughed. annie also laughed. it was a funny image.

"did you fix the leak?"

"i contained the damage until a plumber got there," he said. "by then i had pants on."

"so, OKAY, not much casual nudity at home. so i imagine this is the first time you've seen your daughter's private areas since a younger age."

"yeah," he said. "not since long before she grew pubic hair and then shaved it all off again, apparently."

"nothing wrong with that," annie offered.

"no, it's fine. her mother does it too, in the summer."

"me too," annie said. she saw it register on his face with a light smirk. sometimes she liked admitting little personal things to her patients. her therapist, carlos, called it "strategic flirting."

annie picked at ted some more. he described the way she was laying with her legs open and how shocked he'd been that she hadn't covered herself or closed her legs or anything -- she'd just calmly asked him what was up and if he needed anything. the boyfriend had apparently been fully dressed. she nursed a theory about oral sex being performed so subserviently, if maybe that was triggering something in ted. seemed unlikely. ultimately, she concluded that he was reading it as defiance, and was offended. he clearly valued his positive relationship with his daughter a lot -- it was a better and healthier than his relationship with his wife.

"did you ever think," annie said. "that your daughter didn't cover up just because she trusts you?"

"what do you mean?"

"she wasn't like, trying to rub your face in it," annie said, regretting her choice of words immediately. "she just didn't even think to cover up. if your wife had come in, she would have. but with you, she doesn't mind."

annie watched with satisfaction as the clouds cleared from ted's brow. he said he'd talk it over with his daughter when they had some time alone.

when ted left annie napped on the couch for a while in her office between appointments. it smelled faintly of ted's cologne, which she rather liked.

[margalitarry]

dorothea | c.b

~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~

ooh, you're a queen

selling dreams

selling make up and magazines

ooh, from you i’d buy anything

colby brock x reader

warnings : depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mention of drugs (xanax)

word count : 1.4k

notes : i love writing emotional fics so much omg. inspired by taylor swifts song, dorothea. you and colby were best friends (aka both def crush on each other but whatevz) and you decide to pick up the unknown call

~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~

colby scrolled through his instagram feed, feeling like every photo was you. last night had been the release of your highly anticipated album, and he had of course listened to it.

you and colby had met when he first moved to LA with sam. you were one of the first people he had met and you both immediately clicked. you easily fell into his patterns and hung out nearly everyday. you helped him and sam film videos for their channel, and he helped you with pursing a music career.

everything was fine until you had released your first album. it was incredibly successful, you had even won a grammy award. you began to travel not only all over america, but the world for interviews, tour, photo shoots, and everything else in between. it was an extremely difficult change and even more difficult to balance your relationships.

at first you insisted on calling colby at any and every moment you could. even if it was for a few minutes, talking to him helped your nerves. but as the months went on you had begun getting depressed, withdrawing yourself from not only colby but many of your other friends. you felt you only had time for your career, and if you weren’t asleep you always had something or somewhere to be.

colby was never mad at you for calling less and was extremely understanding. he just wanted you to be happy, and he believed that at that time you were happier with whatever you had been doing. he couldn’t deny one thing though; having to find out bits of your life through the news made him extremely sad.

it was almost 4 in the morning when you had gotten home from your release party, which you didn’t even want to go to. you had tried to leave multiple times but your manager insisted you should stay. you groaned when your phone began to ring, expecting your manager to update you on some statistic you couldn’t care about.

‘no caller id’

you didn’t know what came over you, because technically you weren’t supposed to pick up a call you didn’t know. especially without a caller id. it could be a fan who somehow got your number, but you picked it up.

“hello?” you said after picking up the call.

“hey hello? y/n?” an extremely familiar voice replied, letting your stomach drop at the thought of who it could be.

“colby brock? are you seriously calling me right now?” you asked, excitement and anxiety running through your voice.

“yeah, yeah it’s me! how are you doing? it’s been forever i feel like.”

“i’m okay, really tired right now. i just got to my hotel room after being out all night at the listening party for my album. how are you?”

“i’m good, your album is amazing by the way. sam and i listened to it when it dropped. are you in la?”

you almost felt guilty talking to him right now, it felt like nothing had happened and just like the years together before but something wasn’t right. it didn’t feel the same.

“no, i honestly wish. i’m in new york right now, i have a show at madison square garden tomorrow night.” you told him.

“oh damn! you’re just selling dreams and everything now. i’m really proud of you, holy shit!” colby exclaimed, he couldn’t believe you had picked up his call. but he could hear a dullness in your voice that wasn’t there before.

“thank you” you lightly laughed

“are you seriously doing okay though? you sound a little more than just tired y/n.” colby asked, not beating around the bush. if he felt something was wrong he wanted to know.

his question took you aback; although you expected him to say something along those lines. you didn’t know how to answer, because truthfully you didn’t know how you were feeling. you were filled with joy from the overwhelming support, but you desperately missed your old life.

“y/n? hello?” colby said, pulling you from your thoughts of your emotions.

“uh- yeah. i mean no, but it’s not like bad. it’s not amazing either- but- i don’t know really.” you answered, best you could.

“what’s up? just talk to me, you’re good.”

“i just really fucking miss my life before all of this, whenever i just sat and edited your guys’ videos for hours a day. when we were younger down at the parks. whenever we would be together all of the time. all of you even. obviously you more- but whatever i just miss it all.”

“i don’t want to live this life anymore” you whispered, focusing your eyes on a bottle of xanax for a spilt second.

colby felt a more of a relief than he did sympathy in that moment. you were finally opening up to him after almost a year and a half. but he also couldn't help feel helpless for you.

“i’m sorry, but there’s definitely a way to balance everything. i know you have so much going on, but you’ve gotta be able to take yourself back and out of certain situations. standing up for yourself” colby said, still in disbelief he was having this conversation.

"i know but it's just after my first album it's been absolutely nonstop, i haven't had longer than a day to just do nothing. i don't know when that's gonna end."

"you have more people who want to help you than those who want to see you fail. you cant keep these things hidden, it doesn't help anyone."

"i'm sorry" you said

"nothing that's happened to you is your fault, don't be sorry for your emotions. especially with me, we're way past that point."

you weren’t sure if that was something you needed to hear, or if it was just because colby was saying it, but it encouraged you to make a spur of the moment decision.

“what if you came to new york for my show tomorrow? if you have nothing going on obviously, i’d pay for everything. and if you want too.”

colby’s jaw dropped even though you couldn’t see it. he didn’t have anything going on for the next four days, and couldn’t have been more thankful not too.

“i have nothing going on the next four days actually”

“are you serious? please say you’ll come.”

“of course i will!”

you immediately opened you laptop and looked at flights from lax to jfk, your heart breathing through your chest.

“ do you think you can be ready in five hours?” you asked him, wanting to suddenly see him extremely badly.

“are you kidding? yeah i can be, definitely. whatever you want.”

as the word ‘yeah’ came out of his mouth you booked the tickets as fast as you could, sending him the email confirmation. you couldn’t really process what you had just done fully. you also didn’t realize it at the moment but you had still had his email perfectly memorized.

“i just sent you the email, i’m so excited fuck!”

“i’m really excited to see you y/n. i feel i’ve only seen you on screens the last year.”

colby saying that so nonchalantly made you more upset that you would've liked to feel, but it had almost been an hour since he first called and you were very tired.

“i’m gonna try to sleep before you come, i’ll text you in a few hours. actually wait- do you have a new cell? it showed up no caller id.”

“it’s the same as it’s always been, not sure why. but okay get some rest, i’ll see you soon.”

“see you soon” you said before hanging up the call.

you stood up and walked over to the counter that the bottle of xanax held, tearing up staring at the bottle. you proceeded to take them into the bathroom and flush them all down the toilet before going back to bed.

all you could think about was you fully laid down was how you were pretty sure colby had just saved your life.

colby couldn't have been more relieved as he called sam letting him know he'd be in new york for the weekend.

[citadelsanchez]

heyo! hope youre doing good, if u do some headcanons or shorts, id love to take a look at how reader has the same high level of substance abuse, especially alcohol, and how Rick goes along with that. If not, just fine, hope u habe a good day.

Alcoholic Like Rick Headcanons:

Well, when you first met Rick, he didn't see you as having a substance problem.

He just thought that you were eccentric and easily match his level of asshole-ery

It isn't until later that your drinking begins to show and he notices you popping different pills at random times

But one night you stumble in his bedroom and saunter up to him to challenge him to a drinking contest

Rick finds it comedic, not only that you're shitfaced and making a show but that you could possibly even dare to outdrink him at this point

That usual smirk comes across his face as he sits you down on his bed and asks to sing you a lullaby since you'll clearly be asleep soon

You refuse and hold your ground though, standing back up to puff your chest out and chug some more of the alcohol you're holding

Rick laughs and puts both hands on the sides of your head

"S-sweetheart, one disadvantage is that I have an enNNDless fucking supply of alcohol, when have you ever s-seen me refill this flask? I d-designed it that way. You know, genius mind."

You gently shove his hands off and state that it doesn't matter, you're not down for the count as you've taken several Xanax in addition to your multiple Bourbon and Hennessy bottles

Rick shakes his head; you started a few hours ago and most people would be in a deep, drunken slumber by now

He catches himself from swearing aloud out of a protective nature, you're not his responsibility but he still feels slightly concerned

"Come awwnnn, let's get scchhwiftyy in heeerre bitch!" You smile, turning on the radio in his room and start dancing around Rick

He shrugs before joining you in your awful grooving as you both pour another drink

He knows that he'll be here to watch over you even if he becomes slightly incompetent by the end of the night

[junkosblunt]

multi-chapter despair sisters // junko enoshima fanfiction concept

so basically i’m working on writing the most fucked up elaborately angsty sister fix it fic you can possibly imagine about my girls junko and mukuro. it’s a continuation of danganronpa IF but with a little flare of reality, so the concept is that after the failed mutual killing game, junko is tried and found guilty of attempted murder and a few other crimes, but the world still thinks izuru kamukura is responsible for the tragedy, the apocalypse, the terrorism, etc. to the world, junko enoshima is just another one of izuru’s remnants of despair, just another high school girl who was manipulated and swept away by the big bad man and the current of despair.

at the start of the story, junko has been in prison for like three or five or seven years (i haven’t decided yet lmao.) mukuro calls her every day even though junko never picks up, writes her letters even though junko never responds, comes to visit once a week even though junko always refuses to see her. she hates her. she hates mukuro—really, genuinely hates her. the whole betraying their cause to help makoto naegi thing left junko with a sour taste in her mouth—it was boring and predictable and staggeringly disappointing, even for mukuro—and so her previously fluid, fluctuating hatred hardened into something vicious and unmoving, something stagnant and boring. these days, as far as junko is concerned, she’s an only child.

life in prison is nothing short of dull and degrading, but her new medications, especially the xanax, and the two goons (or friends or whatever) she’s collected during her sentence thus far—her former classmate and current cellmate celestia ludenberg, who was arrested about a year after junko’s verdict for running an underground illegal poker ring and the former undercover officer who arrested celestia ludenberg for running said underground illegal poker ring, miu iruma—make it almost tolerable. the only intolerable thing junko has ever encountered in prison, the only intolerable thing junko has ever encountered period, is the Hole. but she behaves now, so the only time she spends locked in that 3.6ft x 4ft torture chamber enduring a merciless suffering so inconceivably awful even her despair deserted her in there these days is in the relentless waking nightmare she’s come to call her memory.

but aside from the transformation of her once glorious mind into the jumbled, abstract clusterfuck it is now (a parting gift from the Hole. ptsd—the gift that keeps on giving.) and the hallucination of her prettier, skinnier, saner high school self who she calls Ego and speaks to regularly, things are totally fine. boring, but fine.

then one morning a prison guard tells junko she has a visitor. junko, assuming it’s mukuro, waves the guard off, says, “tell her i was stabbed in a prison riot and my dying wish was for her to take a fucking shower.” but it turns out her visitor isn’t stinky, smelly mukuro after all—it’s the lieutenant of homicide at the tmpd, kyoko kirigiri !! kirigiri is waiting for her in the staff lounge of the prison and greets her with a photo of a young woman floating lifelessly in a bathtub surrounded by a halo of flowers. junko immediately recognizes the corpse as sonia nevermind, a remnant of despair, but what truly catches her eye are the monokuma hair ties holding her pale blonde pigtails in place. kirigiri tells junko she’d like her to take a look at the crime scene, and junko, who loves crime scenes and dead bodies and violence and the sorrow of lives taken too soon or whatever, is eager to see the rest of the sad photos, only for kirigiri to say, “i think it’d be best if you saw the scene in person.” and so kirigiri sneaks her out of prison for a field trip to a crime scene.

on the drive there, kirigiri explains that sonia nevermind is the newest victim of the most prolific serial killer in japanese history known as the ophelia killer. the name comes from the fact that all of his victims are found in water with ophelia’s famous bouquet, displayed to resemble the millais painting of ophelia. this fucker has been killing bitches for years (claiming the life of one victim per month) without ever leaving a trace: no dna, no witnesses, no security footage, no motive, literally nothing. the police know that the victims’ cause of death is always drowning, but these girls, these ophelias, are never found with any sort of defensive wounds. the tmpd has no idea how the ophelia killer even abducts his victims—one moment they’re there and the next they’ve vanished into thin air, only to reappear a month later floating languidly in a pool of pansies, poppies, violets, and roses, immortalized as yet another tragically beautiful ophelia. the victims are always young girls between the ages of 16-20 who come from respectable, wealthy families. it’s the same story every time: well behaved, bright futures, excellent grades, tons of friends, home by curfew, no history of running away, behavioral problems, or substance abuse. they’re always good girls from good families, so there’s an immense pressure on the tmpd from the public to catch this killer.

while junko is analyzing sonia’s crime scene, she immediately pieces together why she’s been brought here: the ophelia killer, whoever they are, is attempting to communicate with her through subtle clues scattered throughout a crime scene he designed just for her, like a little tap on her shoulder that says, “hey, wanna play?” (and indeed, junko wants to play.)

kirigiri’s theory is that there’s only one person in the entire world capable of committing such heinous, despairing, and yet utterly artistic murders for years without ever leaving a trace: izuru kamukura. the ophelia killer’s interest in junko is the only lead kirigiri has, so she makes a deal with junko that she’ll be released from prison under the condition that she agrees to work with the tmpd to catch the killer. junko agrees to the terms, more than thrilled to indulge in her sudden, utter fascination with her new friend and the cat and mouse killing game he so eagerly wants to play with her. also, it’ll feel nice to be free.

for the first time since her arrest, junko’s mind is alive, ablaze with possibilities, with predictions, with patterns, with questions: why, after all these years, has izuru kamukura decided to reach out? what does he want with her? is he seeking her friendship? her companionship? her mentorship?her despair? or is she just another one of his pretty ophelias, fragile and ethereal and doomed to sink beneath the surface and leave this world behind?

junko signs off on the offer, but she soon finds that kirigiri purposely neglected to mention a potentially deal breaking condition of her parole: her mandated place of residence.

upon her release, junko, who was under the impression that she’d be boozing it up in miu iruma’s bachelorette pad, finds mukuro waiting to pick her up from prison to drive her to an apartment she idiotically calls, “home.” the terms of her parole dictate that she’s required to live with mukuro, the sister she fucking loathes, the sister she once loved even more dearly than despair, the sister she refuses to let in no matter how frantic the pounds sound on the other side of the door. despair is a path best walked alone, and that’s that. and so junko is determined to navigate the painfully reality of her ptsd on her own, concealing the fact that she even has it in the first place from everyone she knows, but especially from mukuro. she buries the truth of what really happened to her in the Hole six feet under, the grave unmarked, never to be spoken of aloud. however, she slowly starts to realize that no matter how abysmal the pool, how deep the grave, how tiny the hole, some bones just refuse to rest peacefully.

mukuro and junko eventually begin to find their way back to each other through the cobwebs and clutter of their many crowded years apart, but as the gap between them continues to shrink, junko can’t help but feel illogically lost. when she looks at her reflection in the mirror, on the water, she wonders if she’s missing something, maybe even everything. if they’re truly making their way back to shore, why does she still feel like she’s underwater?

while mukuro fights to keep her afloat, junko chases after the ophelia killer and the promise of despair that awaits her, plunging full fathom five into the deepest, darkest depths she’s ever known, trying desperately to avoid the mirrors that seem to appear at every turn along with the holes they’re meant to conceal.

MAIN CHARACTERS: junko enoshima, mukuro ikusaba, miu iruma, kyoko kirigiri, celestia ludenberg, izuru kamukura, maybe kotoko utsugi

MINOR CHARACTERS: the 78th class, the 77th class, kaede akamatsu, suichi saihara, korekiyo shinguji, probably more from dv3 as needed

(junko’s relationship with despair is a super prevalent aspect of the plot too lol not sure why i didn’t mention that but yeah.)

[aidansplaguewind]

Riding Out the Storm

So, I previously posted this on AO3 but I went through it and fixed it up quite a bit. Made it more descriptive and what not. Trust me when I say I improved it BIG TIME. I haven't updated it on AO3 yet though. Figured I'd post it in case anyone wanted to check it out. (Sansa is 18 in this one in case anyone has an underage issue.)

I dunno man, I think I made it pretty hot and I usually don't feel that way about my own smut. You tell me.

RATED - E (as in Explicit, not for Everyone)

WORD COUNT - 6385

Sansa has gone to stay with her Aunt Lysa and Uncle Petyr over summer vacation at their beach house. But, instead of fun in the sun, a hurricane hits. Lysa decided to ride out the storm by popping pills and sleeping through it, leaving Petyr and Sansa alone to ride it out their own way. (I literally wrote this during a hurricane.)

"This is so boring, I can't stand it. I’m literally about to lose my mind.”

Petyr looked at his eighteen-year-old niece over the top of his book. She was sitting in the arm chair across from his, squirming in her seat, and checking her phone every five minutes. “If you keep using that phone without charging it you’re gonna get a hell of a lot more bored once the power goes out. Read a book, I have plenty.”

“Who reads anymore?”

“Beg my pardon, you're right, I imagine your generation wouldn't bother to even learn to read if not for texting.” She snarled her nose at him but he didn't mind. Didn't care at all if he offended her delicate sensibilities. “I don't care what you do, just stop complaining.”

Outside the wind was picking up, the rain coming down harder, and they could see it all through the clear plastic shutters that were covering all of the windows. There was a pretty massive hurricane sitting in the Atlantic, on the way straight toward them, the current conditions being brought in from the outer bands. Petyr imagined his wife's niece, Sansa, had never dreamed coming to stay with her aunt for a few weeks would result in their current situation. No, she likely had fantasies of fun in the sun, beach days, and relaxing in the hammock. Her boyfriend had even planned to come visit her for a few days but that wasn't going to happen, at least not until after the storm had passed. All flights in and out had been canceled.

He said nothing as she got up and plugged her phone into the charger, his eyes following her across the room. She was wearing white cotton shorts that barely covered her bottom and a blue spaghetti strap top and he wondered why she wore clothing like that in front of him if she didn't want him looking. And she didn't want him looking, or at least that's what she had told him. What was it that she had said? Pervert. Yeah, that's what she had called him when she noticed him glance at her ass. He hadn't meant for his eyes to linger but her skirt had been so short and she had bent over right in front of him, her ass almost in full view. He was only a man, how could he not look?

“When are Robin and Lysa getting up?” she asked, plopping back down onto the chair.

“No time soon, I imagine. She wants to sleep through it and I don't intend to stop her.” Lysa had taken enough Xanax to sleep through their house blowing away, and Robin, the spoiled mommy’s boy that he was, would stay in bed with her.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I want to keep reading my book.”

“Ugh...come on. Amuse me.”

What a little cunt. As if it were his responsibility to keep her occupied. “What would you have me do, Miss Stark?”

She shrugged, tucking a stray strand of perfect, red hair behind her ear. “I dunno. You wanna play a game or something?”

Petyr sighed, closed his book and placed it on the coffee table in front of them, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be getting any reading done if Sansa Stark had anything to say about it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fine. What sort of game did you have in mind?”

“Um...naked twister?” she laughed, obviously finding herself hilarious. She'd caught him looking at her ass once and now she figured he wanted her and meant to taunt him for it.

It was true, he did want her, but he would not be bested by an eighteen-year-old girl. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have the game,” he answered, unfazed.

She shook her head, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I was kidding.”

“I'm well aware.”

“Ooook." Her eyes widened as though he were being ridiculous. "So what do you wanna play?”

“You tell me, it was your idea, Sweetling.”

“How about Truth or Dare?”

Truth or Dare. There was a game he hadn't played in years. In truth the only games he played any more were those of the mind. Fuck it. Why not? What could she possibly ask him that would be too revealing? Even so, he was a very good liar. “Fine.”

“Okay.” She got up from the chair and moved to sit on the sofa. “Come sit by me.”

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I wanna be able to see your eyes, so I can tell if you're lying or not.”

Petyr fought against laughter that threatened to erupt. Little fool, I'm a master fucking manipulator. But she didn't need to know that, so he moved from his own chair and sat down beside her on the sofa. She pulled her legs up so that her knees were bent and she was facing him. “Is that better?” he asked.

“Sure. Now who should go first?”

He gave a small shrug. “I'll be the guinea pig I suppose, why not?”

“Okay, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Wimp.”

“Why?”

“Truth is the safe way to go.”

“Is it?” He stared into her blue eyes, challenging her to disagree. For he knew that truths could be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands.

She looked away quickly. “Fine...lemme think.” She fiddled with her necklace for a moment, running the little golden heart back and forth across the chain, before an idea dawned on her and her attention snapped back to his face. “I heard you got into a bad fight with my uncle over my mother when you guys were around my age and he totally kicked your ass. Is it true?”

“It's true,” Petyr admitted but ‘kicked his ass’ wasn't the phrase he'd use to describe it. “He nearly killed me.” She hadn't asked that but he offered the knowledge anyway. Let her hear how brutal her own family can be, let her empathize with me. Whatever it took to get her where he wanted her.

“Yeah...I heard you have a huge scar across your chest. Is that true?”

Petyr grinned and shook his head. “It's your turn now, not mine. Truth or Dare?”

"You suck," she pouted and Petyr couldn't stop his gaze from traveling from her eyes down to her luscious bottom lip. Reflexively he ran his tongue across his own bottom lip and then bit down on it. He was well aware that women found him adorable when he bit his bottom lip. When his eyes returned to hers they were wide and a rosy pink had colored her cheeks and he flashed her a devilish grin. He would use everything in his arsenal, every trick in the book.

She swallowed and looked down at her hands. “Um...truth, I guess.”

“Is it true that you're only dating Joffrey Baratheon because his family is famous and he's the most desired boy in the world?” Petyr asked.

Her chin dropped and her mouth hung open in feigned shock. “No. No, never. Joffrey’s... he's…”

“He's what?” Everyone knew the kid was a prick and he watched her stumble to find something nice to say about him. She couldn't. Sansa was the girl who wanted to date the cutest and most popular boy in school, even if that boy was an asshole. She would imagine he'd fall hopelessly in love with her and change his ways just for her. She was young, naive, and selfish. Unrealistically idealistic. He knew exactly who she was because he had once been the same person, mistaking infatuation for love. “You're a bad liar, Sansa.”

She was about to object when all of the lights went out and they were left in complete darkness. They had been so busy with their little game that neither of them had noticed that the winds outside were howling, the rain beating against the windows. If Petyr had bothered to keep a television on he would have known where the storm was but had decided early on that he wasn't going to get wrapped up into the hysteria. It was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Do you think the lights will come back on?” Sansa asked. As if in answer to her question, a gust of wind slammed against the front door and the pressure of it could be felt physically.

“I don't think so. Stay here, I'll go get some candles.”

Petyr left her alone on the sofa, using the light from his cellphone to guide him to the kitchen. He grabbed a few candles from the cabinet above the stove, a flashlight, and a bottle of wine. Fuck it. There was nothing else to do. He found the corkscrew in a drawer and returned to the living room to sit the candles on the coffee table. In this case it was a lucky thing he smoked because it meant he always had a lighter in his pocket. Once they were lit a soft glow enveloped him and Sansa, and he noticed an uneasiness in her eyes as he sat back down beside her.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. The wind...it's so loud. The whistling is kinda creepy.”

How cute, she was frightened of the storm. “I don't mind it but I grew up in a rainy, windy area. I actually find it rather comforting.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.” He popped the cork on the bottle of wine and drank straight from the bottle, passing it to Sansa after.

She reached for it but hesitated. “But...I’m not old enough.”

“Close enough. Don't pretend you’ve never drank before, I'm not stupid and I may look old but I used to be a teenager too. Besides, it might help you relax.” She smiled, a sweet, innocent smile and Petyr felt the corner of his mouth twitch to match. Her fingers brushed his as she took the bottle and that small touch made his skin tingle and burn.

“So...do you wanna finish playing the game?” she asked after a hearty swig.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, it was your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.” He was suddenly feeling a bit adventurous. What could she possibly dare him to do in their current circumstances anyway?

“I dare you to take off your shirt...and undershirt! If you're wearing one.”

Petyr wasn't sure what to say for a moment. It definitely wasn't the dare he saw coming. “Why?”

“Does it matter why? I dared you to.”

He grabbed the wine bottle from her and took a long draught before sitting it on the table. He wasn't particularly shy, no it wasn't that, he just didn't really want to show her the long scar that ran the length of his torso, from his collar bone to his navel, and he was almost certain that's why she wanted him bare.

“Just remember,” he said as he began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. “Paybacks are a bitch.” She raised her eyebrows at him challengingly. Little girl, don't get in over your head. Surely she didn't understand the dangers and implications of undressing a fully grown man. If she did she may have rethought her dare. Too late now, little one. He finished with the buttons of his shirt and shrugged it off, then pulled the white t-shirt he wore under it over his head and watched as her eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my God...I had- I didn't know-”

“It's fine!" He cut her off. Her words sounded a lot like pity and he hadn't the stomach for pity. "It's been healed for many, many years.”

She reached towards him and instinctively he grabbed her wrist before her fingers made contact with the raised pink flesh, causing her to flinch. He hadn't meant to grab her too roughly or hurt her, it was just a reflex. Nevertheless, he held onto her. In truth he very much liked the idea of her tiny fingers roaming his bare chest. “I believe it's your turn.”

Her blue eyes locked onto his in surprise. Has she already forgotten we were playing a game?

“Um...yeah. I pick truth.”

Petyr released his grip on her wrist and she pulled her arm back against her chest. For a moment he just looked at her, noting that all her usual cockiness had seemed to fade after realizing that he could hurt her if he wished to. Sansa was a tall girl, exactly the same height as Petyr, and she sauntered around in front him as though she was untouchable and unattainable, but now she surely realized that though he was not a big man in stature, he was still a man, and he was lean and strong and he could pin her down if he so desired. But Petyr wasn't interested in taking her by force for it would be much more satisfying to make her desire him. To want him. Before the night was over, she would be begging for his cock.

What truth could he ask her to break her down? To put her in her place? A sinful grin spread across his face. Sex. She clearly loved the attention her beautiful, young body got her but if he knew anything about teenagers, it was that they hated being reminded of their sexual inexperience and inferiority. They had the bodies of adults but were still children and tended to get quite defensive when one reminded them of that. “Alright, I have a question for you. Are you still a virgin?”

In the dim light of the candles he could just barely make out the blush spreading across her cheeks. “No! No way, I have a boyfriend.”

Petyr couldn't contain a soft chuckle. “You're lying.”

“No. I'm not. I've done it tons of times.”

“Oh? What's your favorite position?”

She shook her head. “It's not my turn anymore.”

“I wasn't asking a Truth, I was just asking. Do you like it rough or soft and slow?"

Her cheeks flushed crimson, matching her hair. “It's your turn,” she insisted, still avoiding the question.

It didn't matter. He could always tell when people were lying, he had learned to note the signs. Or tells. Lack of eye contact, fidgeting, a twitch of their lips. She was exhibiting all of these. “Fine. Truth.”

Sansa took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. “Do you...did you...um…”

“Come on, out with it.”

“Do you like looking at me?” she asked, avoiding his gaze. “I've seen you look at me.”

And just like that, a jolt of arousal burned through his stomach and down through his groin. “I recall. And you called me a pervert.”

“I didn't mean it,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not really. It's just what everyone else says when an old- I mean...older guy looks at a teenage girl.”

“You meant old.”

“No! I didn't... I mean that's what other people say but I don't think you're old.” This was certainly a turn of events. For once, not at all what he was expecting. “If I told my friends they would think it was creepy and gross because you're so much older and you're my uncle but...I kind of like it when you look at me.”

Another jolt of arousal, this time shooting straight to his cock. Such a sweet, delicious little confession. “I'm not your uncle through blood,” he quickly reminded her. She finally looked into his eyes and hers looked so innocent and vulnerable that he physically ached.

“So...you still haven't answered. Do you like to? Ya know...look at me?”

If he said no he would be lying and he couldn't bring himself to lie to her, not about this, not with the fear of rejection written all over her face. Not when the truth could possibly allow him a taste of her supple, young fruit. He softened his tone and spoke barely above a whisper, “Yes, sweetheart, I do. Very much.”

A sweet smile played on her lips, followed by another blush. “It's my turn now.” She was embarrassed and trying to move away from the topic now but Petyr's curiosity was piqued and he was getting her exactly where he wanted her. If she liked him looking at her, what else might she like?

“Truth or Dare?” he asked, his heart racing in anticipation.

“Truth.”

“Do you ever look at me?”

“I'm looking at you right now.”

“You know what I mean, Sweetling.” He was taking a gamble, he knew, just because she enjoyed the attention of him lusting after her did not mean the feeling was mutual but there was only one way to find out. “Do you find me attractive, Sansa?” He was a good looking man, he knew, slender and lean with dark hair greying at his temples, but teenagers were usually attracted to other teenagers.

“Yeah...I guess I do," she admitted, her eyes cast downward, no doubt afraid to look into his.

Her confession sent another jolt through Petyr and his cock was beginning to throb. Every sane part of him screamed to end their little game immediately before he completely sexually frustrated himself but the part of him that didn't care said keep going. “Truth,” he answered before she even had time to ask the question.

She lifted her head, finding the courage to make eye contact. “Have you ever thought about...like...doing things to me?”

Was he imagining it or had she scooted closer to him? There was hardly room to breathe between them, with her knees still bent, her shins just barely grazed his thigh. “Yes.”

“What kinds of things?”

His heart was hammering against his ribs now, his every nerve tingling in anticipation. He wanted to jump on her like a fucking wild animal in heat and just take her but that wouldn't do. He had to tread carefully. Slowly he inhaled a breadth of air, calming himself, and slowly exhaled. “Things you’re too young to hear about.”

“I'm not too young. I think about things too.”

“Oh?" So much for calm. "What kinds of things?” Had she too imagined her legs over his shoulders as he pumped into her? Had she slid her digits through her silken, wet slit and imagined it was his tongue instead?

“You were supposed to answer first, it's your turn.”

Petyr turned his body more, to face hers, and whilst doing so took the opportunity to place his hand on her bare leg. She wiggled a bit but didn't shake him off. Her skin was so very soft and supple and he couldn't stop himself from gently rubbing his fingers over her. “Do you want to know if I've thought about kissing you?” he asked.

Her eyes had snapped to where his hand now rested on her bare skin, fixated. It looked as though she struggled to lift them to meet his own. “Yes... and anything else.”

“You wanna know if I've imagined fucking you?” She nodded, biting that kissable bottom lip of hers. “Yes...and yes.” His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, moving around her leg and up to the inside of her thigh. Her skin was even softer there. His cock, now hard and throbbing, was straining against his pants. “What have you imagined, sweetheart?”

“I- I um…” Her face was flushed and her voice sounded strained as he continued running his fingers along the inside of her thigh.

“Don't be shy.”

“I...imagined kissing you.”

“What else?” His fingers now toyed with the edge of her shorts and he was hyper-aware of every change in her demeanor. Her breathing, while barely audible, was more shallow and quick and her perky tits were rising and falling in rapid succession. The conversation, the sound of his voice mixed with his touch, was turning her on and he was inwardly delighted at this victory.

“I've imagined you touching me.”

“Where, Sweetling?” he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.

“Um…” Her eyelids fluttered and her voice came out as a soft sigh. The evidence of her arousal made his cock ache with longing.

“Truth or Dare, Sansa?”

“Dare,” she whispered and Petyr almost burst with excitement.

“I dare you to let me kiss you.”

Her eyes met his, looking both uncertain and curious. “What about Aunt Lysa?”

“She's taken enough Xanax to knock out a bull. She's not going to wake up.”

“No, I mean...don't you love her?”

He brought his hands to her face then, gently cupping and caressing the line of her jaw. “Not the way I love you.” In truth he didn't love Lysa at all. Did he love Sansa? Perhaps, but more than anything he wanted to taste her and bury himself inside her and he would say whatever he needed to achieve that. “May I kiss you?”

She barely had time to utter consent before Petyr leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own and her immediate sigh was music to his ears. He forced himself to move slowly, even though his body was alight with need, longing to take her fast and hard. Longing for relief. Her lips moved against his innocently,  clumsy and inexperienced as they were, but he didn't care. He would teach her, he would mold her to fit him. Carefully, he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, willing her to open for him. When her lips parted he took his chance and slipped his tongue between them, softly stroking her own.

She was all softness and warmth and tasted of the wine they had just shared. She was delicious and he couldn't contain the moan that escaped him. His fingers traced down the line of her neck and she whimpered into his mouth and her own hands found their way to his bare chest. Petyr was losing all sense of reason as he devoured her, his heart pounded wildly against his chest, and his cock had become an insistent, aching reminder of how badly he wanted her. When her thumb brushed across his nipple he hissed in a breath and broke their kiss, pulling just far away enough to search the deep blue pools of her eyes.

“Uncle Petyr…”

“Yes?”

“I dare you to touch me.”

Oh fuck. “I didn't choose dare, Sweetling.” He was teasing her, of course, he would gladly touch her.

Her hands went to his hips, urging him closer. “Uncle Petyr, please.”

Please was all it took for him to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt. He reclaimed her lips as his deft fingers found the clasp of her bra and had it loose in seconds. She moaned into his mouth when his hands cupped her breasts, a soft cry of ecstasy, and it took every ounce of Petyr's self control to go slowly. All of her little moans and sighs were going straight to his cock. When he found her nipples and began gently tweaking them between his fingers, she arched into him reflexively, her thighs spreading. He took the opportunity to get between them and push her back onto the sofa, pressing himself against her. He could feel the warmth radiating from her core, even through their layers of clothing, and was unable to stop himself from grinding his erection against her, relishing in the friction.

Sansa broke their kiss and looked at him and Petyr felt stunned, as if being awakened from a trance. Her eyes were glazed and the blue even darker than before, although behind them was a tinge of worry. “What's wrong, Sweetling?”

“I lied earlier.” Her voice was a whisper. “About having done it before. I've never….never really done anything.”

He had known. Of course he had known but a part of him was hoping she would try to maintain the lie until the very end, until he was already buried deep inside her and felt how tight she was. What sort of monster would he be now, with it out in the open, to take this little girl's virginity on the sofa as his wife slept upstairs? “I know and we don't have to do anything, we can stop right now,” but even as he said it, he rocked his hips into her and began tracing her jaw with soft kisses, down until he reached that sweet spot just below. A sharp intake of breath from her and a thrust back against him was enough to spur him on.

A monster indeed.

One of his hands left her breasts and snaked down between them where he slowly eased his fingers under the waistband of her shorts and panties. “Mmhmm,” he moaned into her neck as he found her slit already slick with need. “So wet.” When he slipped a finger through her folds she whimpered and her hands went to his chest, her fingers gripped his chest hair tightly and the pull stung but he didn't mind.

He moved his finger up and down her folds slowly, torturously, making sure to circle her little nub rhythmically. Even without direct pressure she was already moaning and wiggling beneath him, her breaths quick and shallow. Fuck, she's so wet. He wanted nothing more than to yank her bottoms off and sink into her balls deep, to take her fast and rough. But waiting was a sweet kind of torture.

“Do you want me to stop, Sansa?” He would, if she insisted, but he was going to persuade her. He was very good at persuasion.

“No. No please, don't.” Her reply was strained, he couldn't believe how responsive she was to the slightest touch from him.

“Does your boyfriend make you feel like this?” he asked, as he began to fully rub her clit, applying real pressure.

She bucked her hips against his hand as a breathy “No” escaped her lips.

He continued to play with her breasts with one hand as his other worked her below and when he finally slipped his finger into her entrance he covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cry. She was so tight, more than one finger was going to hurt her a little but he was going to try to make it as painless as possible. Perhaps he wasn't a complete monster.

He fucked her with the one finger, making sure the bottom of his palm continuously rubbed on her nub, and she came undone beneath him. Writhing and bucking, one of her hands clawed at his bare side the other tangled in his hair. Petyr was enjoying every minute of it, even though he was sure his cock was about to burst out of his pants. He could almost cum from just watching her lose control.

“Mm...p-p..” she was trying to say something against his mouth. He eased up a bit to allow it. “Please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please...fas-faster.”

He grinned against her lips as he shifted his hand to slide another finger inside. He went slowly at first, stretching her open, getting her used to the feel of something bigger, and she winced but didn't tell him to stop. After a few moments she began moaning again, soft whimpers of pleasure, so he picked up the pace.

“Do you like that?” he whispered into her ear.

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you like the way your Uncle Petyr fucks you?” She bucked wildly against him and he felt her walls beginning to contract. She was close. “Cum for me, Sweetling. Cum for Uncle Petyr.” As if his words alone willed it, and maybe they did, she moaned loudly. Her back arched and her inner walls gripped his fingers, pulling them even deeper as she came around them. Petyr gently nipped at her neck and massaged her breasts as she peaked and then began to come down from her high, praying she wouldn't change her mind now that her initial need was sated.

He decided he wouldn't give her time to. He pushed her shirt and bra up to reveal her naked breasts, beautiful pale mounds ripe for a feast and he dipped his head, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn. Her skin tasted like heaven, sweet and musty and entirely her own; he could have stayed between them forever but he had a more pressing matter at hand. She was already responding again, soft little mews and pants that were driving him mad with lust. He pulled up from her and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her bottoms, stilling for a moment to see if she would object. She didn't. She looked up at him with those innocent blue eyes, waiting, and closed her knees to make it easier for him to get them down.

Without hesitation he pulled them down, tossing them carelessly across the room. Just as quickly he kicked off his shoes and pulled his own pants and boxers off, his cock springing forth, finally free of its constraints. He got back onto the sofa on his knees, placing a hand on each of her own and spreading them back open.

“Jesus…” Her little cunt was so perfect and glistening in the light of the candles from her juices. Just a taste. Petyr watched her face, her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and her eyes darted away from his own. Clearly no one had ever looked at her this way before but she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was perfect. He quickly dipped his head and ran his tongue up the length of her slit, resulting in a surprise gasp from her. He had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. He wanted to devour her for hours, make her exhausted with pleasure until her legs shook and she had to fight for air but he also desperately wanted to be inside her. He settled for a few laps with his tongue and a suckle at her clit before getting up and leaning over her, his cock nestling itself between her folds. Her wet heat caused him to buck against her.

“Ooh,” she whimpered.

“Are you okay?” he asked, bringing his face to her own.

She nodded. “It looks big.”

It? His cock. He hadn't even noticed her looking at it but surely she had, it was likely the only one she had ever seen in person. “Thank you for stroking my ego, Sweetling.”

“Can I...can I get a better look at it? Can I touch it?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He lifted his body off her so she could look down between them where his member lay snug against her sex. He was rigidly hard and his head an angry red. Would she find it ugly? He watched as her tiny hand reached down and she ran her fingers along his length. “Mmm,” he moaned at the contact.

“Does it feel good?”

“You have no idea.”

“I think I might now,” she replied with a sweet smile. “It's so soft but...so hard.”

"Do you like my cock, baby?" he asked, biting that bottom lip of his again in that adorable way that he did.

She blushed an even deeper shade of crimson and smiled. "Yes."

He hummed proudly. "Hmmm, good girl." Very slowly he began rocking his hips, allowing himself to slide through her slit, and she watched with apt fascination until her head fell back and she whimpered from the friction. Petyr himself felt every nerve alighting in his body and he wasn't even inside her yet. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She could only nod, her breathing heavy and loud, lost to the sensation of his manhood stroking her most sensitive spot.

Petyr inwardly rejoiced as he pressed his chest down against hers and kissed her heartily and hungrily. She met his kiss with equal fervor as he took his cock in hand and aligned himself with her entrance. He gave a slight push and he felt her entire body tense beneath him. “Try to relax, Sweetling. It will hurt less if you do.” He truly had no desire to hurt her and didn't understand how any man could enjoy such a thing. It was far more pleasurable to give pleasure.

She nodded but as he began pushing further in, stretching her all the way out, tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. She was so tight, her body instinctively pushed back against the foreign intrusion, and Petyr had to give a few deep, hard thrusts to fully stretch her open for him, until he was all the way inside.

His hips stilled for a moment. "Oooh, holy fuck!" He groaned at the sensation of finally being fully sheathed, his cock twitched within her and he knew if he wasn't careful he would cum far more quickly than he wanted to. Fuck she's so fucking tight, fuck! He wouldn't normally have to worry about that sort of thing but she was so fucking tight and the anticipation had been building inside him for far longer than that night.

She was shaking, crying, and he cupped her face gently kissing away the tears. “Relax, the hard part is over now.”

He captured her lips with his own as he began to slowly pull out and push back in, a gentle, rhythmic rocking of his hips. As he did so, he placed one hand on her breast and the other he placed over where their bodies joined and began working at that tender, little nub. His body wanted so much more, his breathing laboured, fighting the natural urge to start pounding into her.

“Fuck...you feel so good, sweetheart.” She whimpered at his words. “So wet...so tight around my cock.”

“Oooh.” Her cheeks were flushed with arousal, her eyes heavy. His words were fueling her desire. The sound of his voice relaxing her muscles and opening her up beneath him.

"That's it, sweetheart, open up." He could feel her walls relaxing around him as he pushed in and out of her, could feel her getting wetter as he worked her clit. “Do you like the way my cock feels, Sweetling?”

“Oh my God," she panted. So responsive to the sound of his voice. "F-fuck...yes.”

He moved his hand from her breast and used it to prop himself up, allowing a new angle, allowing him to go deeper. “Does my voice turn you on?”

“Yes...don't stop.” Her breaths were becoming quicker, her head rolled back against the arm of the sofa, her own hands replaced his and kneaded at her breasts.

Petyr began to pick up the pace with each thrust. “Does my little girl like the way I fuck her?” She grinded against him at his words. “Ooh fuck...that's it. Such a good girl.”

Sweat broke out on his brow as he pumped into her. The sounds of their joining was intoxicating, the gush of her juices every time he thrust back in, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass. He wanted to keep talking to her but he was losing it. “Mmm...fuuuuck...so good.”

Finally she said it. “Faster.”

He wasted no time, his hips responding to her demand immediately and she began bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts. He wanted her to cum again so desperately but he wasn't going to last much longer at the new frantic pace. His body collapsed on top of her and he hooked his arms underneath hers as he continuously moved his hips, deep and hard. “Your pussy feels so good,” he purred, his lips now at her ear. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

“Oh...oooh, Petyr don't stop.” Her hands went to his head, pulling and yanking his hair but he didn't mind.

“Mmm...oh fuuuck baby I’m gonna cum.”

And he did, he couldn't stop it. Every nerve in his body lit up, his veins sung with pleasure, as he went over the edge, lighting up every limb down to his toes. His vision went white. He tried to pull out, he really did, but as soon as he came, she came too, and her walls gripped him, pulling him back in and milking him for every drop.

“Oooh...oh fuuuuck,” he cried as his cock twitched and jerked inside her.

For a few moments they laid there, their breaths evening out, minds clearing. When Petyr could think clearly again the dread of what had just happened ebbed its way into his mind. “Sansa...I'm so sorry,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin where his head was nestled in the crook of her neck.

“Sorry for what?”

“I meant to pull out.”

“No, Petyr...it's okay. My mom put me on the pill cuz I have really bad periods. It helps.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I promise. There's nothing to worry about.”

Relief spread through his body and he smiled into her neck. Finally he pusehd himself up to where he could look at her and she blushed from the eye contact, biting her bottom lip. “You're beautiful.”

“No I'm not.”

“Stop. You know you are.” She shook her head, looking a bit sad and Petyr was taken aback. For someone who always acted so confident she surely didn't seem so now. “By the time I'm done with you you're going to believe me.”

“You're not done with me?”

“Only if you want me to be.” She smiled and shook her head again, all innocence and vulnerability.

“Well,” he said, moving a strand of hair away from her face and tucking it gingerly behind her ear. “This isn't at all how I expected this evening to go.”

“Me neither.”

For the first time in a while Petyr noticed the wind howling outside. “I completely forgot there was a hurricane going on outside.”

“What hurricane?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. Neither of them had moved yet and she didn't seem to mind.

“I think this is definitely the way to ride out a storm,” she giggled against his lips.

“Ride? I can show you how to ride out the storm.”

She laughed and ruffled his hair with her fingers and he was lost.

[florwal]

the disappearance of whitney byrd: part 2 (spoilers) part 1

warning: this story involves multiple heavy topics

earlier that day whitney was with her boyfriend tommy, they stole wine from a convenience store and he gave her a handful of xanax before dropping her off at her house. he knew the stress she felt over hiding her pregnancy from her grandma was overwhelming, so he was just trying to help. the baby would probably be fine, his mom did worse things when she was pregnant and he turned out okay.

may 05, 2022

whitney had a million questions circling around in her mind, but the only thing she could get out was a quiet

“why’d you leave me?”

her mom didn’t respond, she wouldn’t even look her in the eye. something wasn’t right - a feeling of warmth and uneasiness washed over whitney, nothing felt real. before walking to the park she popped one of the bars tommy gave her and washed it down with half the bottle. as she was waiting for her mom to say something, she started getting dizzy. she didn’t notice the man in a hoodie and gloves behind her until he pulled her off the swing and onto the ground.

whitney looked up at the man, he wasn’t a stranger - even though her vision was blurry she knew exactly who he was. she thought if she were to ever be in this situation she’d put up a fight, scream, do anything she could to get away… but she was paralyzed by fear. maybe the sober her could’ve done more, it was too late though. even if she tried to run, she’d be too slow. the man forcefully pushed her head into the sand, got close to her face and calmly whispered

“scream and i’ll bury the both of you together.”

the dizziness was getting worse and her breathing started to get shallow. she nodded her head and closed her eyes, trying to imagine that this wasn’t really happening as she slipped into unconsciousness.

the man picked whitney up and threw her over his shoulder, slowly walking out of the park.

woman: you didn’t have to go and be so rough with her

[anotherpapercut]

literally so funny how internet leftists will be like "ummm actually using drugs is bad and evil and destroying society (I know bc the us govt and/or some random conspiracy theorist told me so 😌) and anyone who thinks we should end the stigma around drug use and try to make it safer for users is actually just trying to destroy America" but then they'll also turn right around and go "don't forget to take your meds!!! remember if you can't make your own dopamine store bought is fine ❤️. end the stigma around needing lifelong medication!!!"

like girl are you somehow laboring under the delusion that like xanax is safer and more effective at treating mental illness than LSD or ketamine or even like MDMA bc boy do I have some news for you