#i wonder how she looked like. probably a little guy. shed have long ass legs. shed be a lanky girl

[mango-shpango]

what i would do to see my dog as a puppy

[lfcgirlxx84]

Daddy’s Good Girl

Warning : Under 18’s do not read.

Here it is, I’ve never wrote anything like this before but I am open to criticism. Enjoy!

Joel didn’t smoke weed very often, only when the anxiety started to take control. He found that happening less and less when his son brought home a girl. She was a stunner, long blonde curls, a nice plump ass, a handful of tits and her mouth was just perfect, so perfect he wanted nothing more than to fill it. He imagined her on her knees between his legs, eyes begging him for his cock. Joel knew it was wrong thinking about his son's girlfriend like this but he heard the pathetic noises she made at night, heard how she faked it every time, he knew she deserves someone better. Someone who can fill her needs, someone who can fill her just right. Joel could feel himself getting hard just at the thought of her, then he heard the shouting begin again. He wondered what his selfish son had done this time, he tried not to listen in but couldn’t help hearing them.

“Mol I just don’t want you going somewhere without me.”

“Are you for real? You're going to Ibiza next month with the boys and we both know what’s going to happen there!”

“What’s going to happen then?”

“Your going to fuck some drunk whore and come crawling back here riddled with some disease!”

“Oh yeah and your not going to fuck the first guy you see!”

“Fuck you Oscar!”

Joel waited for one of them to storm out again. STOMP! STOMP! SLAM! There goes one of them. Joel stood in the kitchen and poured himself a glass of lemonade, he heard the sniffles walk down the stairs. She entered the kitchen, red puffy eyes and mascara running down her cheeks. Joel grabbed her a tissue and gave her a damp one to wipe the mascara off.

“Here darling, can I get you a drink or something?”

“No thank you Joel, I might just head home, get out of your way.”

“And what are you going to do when you get home, cry some more about that asshole.”

“That’s your son.”

“Still an asshole, stay here, help me smoke this joint.”

Molly liked that idea, she quite often would have a joint with Joel, it made her feel better when life got shit. They both headed out to Joel’s shed, Molly got herself comfortable in one of the arm chairs before Joel passed her the joint, she took a drag on it and instantly felt lighter. She needed this.

Joel and Molly sat together for almost an hour just talking about the most random shit before Joel mentioned his son.

“What’s he done this time?”

“Thinks if I go somewhere without him I’ll fuck someone like I’m some sorta slut.”

“Be honest with me, would you?”

“Probably not, my luck they’ll be worse than him.”

“Yeah I hear how bad he is.”

Molly felt her cheeks burning red.

“I don’t make a thing to listen to you two but sometimes I can’t help it you know, thin walls.”

“Well I guess there’s nothing much to hide, it’s not like any of it is real anyway.”

“I know you're faking it with him darling, you probably should find a real man to treat you right.”

“Oh yeah and where do I find one of them?”

“I could suggest a few.”

Was this it, was Joel finally done toying with Molly. She admits sometimes she does think about him taking her in the shed but he never got this serious with his flirting. It was always just a little joke here and there, a harmless touch on the hand, nothing like this. She could feel the air, thick with sexual tension as he leant forward to touch her knee. His big hands made her legs look tiny, his calloused fingers drawing circles on her thighs. He removed his hands and leant back in his chair.

“Climb on baby.”

She straddles him whilst his kisses move down to her breasts, he pulls her dress down to reveal her boobs. Molly’s hands begin to tug at Joel’s t-shirt as she places kisses on his neck. Her bra soon finds its way to the floor, he focuses his attention on her right breast, sucking her nipple until she lets out a moan. He moves to her left doing the same, whilst flicking her right nipple. Molly feels Joel’s erection growing under her, she begins feeling herself getting wetter, needing him more. Joel’s hand slowly makes its way down to her core. He pushes the bottom of her dress up to grab at her ass and feel how wet her pussy is.

“This all for me slut.”

“Yes Daddy.”

He picked her up and placed her on his table. He teases her by licking her folds slowly, he reaches her clit and sucks it gently. Molly becomes a whimpering mess begging him for more. Joel refuses to give in to her so he keeps teasing, he gets his thumb and starts tracing light circles on her clit. Joel brings two fingers to Molly’s mouth and shoves them into her mouth, she sucks on them for a while and when he thinks they are wet enough he removes them. He inserts them into Molly’s pussy, she hisses as she adjusts to his thick fingers, Joel doesn’t allow her much time before he is hitting her spot. Each time he gets it right, he curls his fingers in her and before she knows it the knot in her stomach is back and ready to explode.

“Please let me cum Daddy.”

“Cum for me”

He continues fingering her until he feels her walls clench around him, he knows now he needs to get the spot again. He keeps hitting the spot until her legs are shaking, she’s moaning and his fingers are dripping. He takes his fingers out of her and licks them.

“You taste so good”

Molly is speechless as she tries to come down from her high, but before she has time to respond Joel has her on the floor and is presenting his member to her. She is shocked at how big and thick he is, she doesn’t think she’s going to be able to take him. He grabs a fistful of hair and shoves his member into the back of her throat. She’s never had anyone this big and is struggling to not choke. Joel notices her struggling for breath and lets her set the pace. She licks his member up and down, tasting his precum before she takes him back in. Joel is moaning in his chair, his head thrown back, eyes closed, Molly knows he’s close. She sucks his tip and pumps the rest of him with both hands. Joel begins to get breathless, knowing he’s close.

“You gotta stop, I want to fill your pussy.”

Joel drags Molly to her feet and pushes her back onto his table. He brings her to the edge and lines himself to her entrance. He rubs his tip along her entrance, slowly he fills her tight pussy. He stays still for a while letting her adjust to his size before he moves out of her and back in, each time she’s still shocked by his size. Soon pleasurable moans fill the shed, Joel uses the wall behind to grip onto, the table is squeaking with each movement, Molly wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands grab his hair as she feels herself edging closer, Joel is panting above her, each thrust getting sloppier. Molly begins clenching around him, she feels herself lose control, she’s a moaning shaking mess underneath her boyfriend's father. Joel lets go after, riding out his own high with his head resting in the crook of her neck whilst he paints her walls white. They both just stay there for a while, panting and trying to catch their breath. Joel pulls out of her with a pop and helps her off the table, he then pulls her panties back on.

“I want you to walk home with my cum dripping from you. Want everyone to know that you're my slut.”

Molly nods her head in agreement, she is his now. She redresses herself before looking at her phone and noticing that she has an apology waiting to be read.

“I should go before he comes back.”

“Yeah good idea, if he doesn’t come back tonight maybe you can come back and let me fill that pretty mouth.”

Joel kisses her one last time and slaps her ass goodbye as she takes a step out into the world. Molly reads the text as she walks home.

I’ll make it up to you later bby ;) x

Would it be wrong to let him fuck his Dad’s cum into his girlfriend? Probably right.

[drakenology]

www.pornscape.com/janitors-closet-kirishima

janitor’s closet - kirishima x reader

categories: cunnilingus, blow job, riding, exhibitionism, slight degradation, unprotected sex, cussing, cervix kissin’, nasty hook up in the janitor’s closet.

author’s note: welcome to the pornscape! i hope you guys enjoy this event and this piece as well. please check out the others who have participated and as always, cum again ;). read the other works here

Hanamura Corp; a place known for legitimate business. Every employee including yourself was very capable of their job and it was wonderful to be a part of. But God was it fucking boring. Everyone there just ignored each other, did their job and clocked out once their shift was done and over with. With the exception of a few women you’d talk to around break time,  The entire building was often so quiet you forgot other people worked there.

One thing that made your job a little bit exciting was the escapades that took place every Wednesday in the janitor’s closet. The janitor who worked mostly Wednesdays was quite possibly the most gorgeous man to walk those halls.

Ejiro Kirishima; a sweetheart who worked as a janitor here at Hanamura Corp for a few years now. What he was doing working as a janitor and as not a male model was a mystery.

He was tall; 6′11 to be exact, with long red hair he often had tied back in a messy bun, strands of his hair cheekily escaping from the sides. Not to mention his body. Eijiro was an absolute beast of a man; his entire body was ripped. His arms were gigantic and covered in tattoos. The women of the facility often gossiped about the ginormous janitor who came by their cubicles with a warm smile and a tip of his cap. 

“God, he’s so sexy. I’d like to just jump his fucking bones.”

“I wonder what he’s like in bed. Probably an insatiable beast.”

“I just know his dick is huge. Fuck, I can only imagine.”

She guessed right. His dick is huge. How do you know that? Because you’re the one fucking him in the Janitor’s closet every so often. Every Wednesday when he worked, he’d walk past your cubicle and tap you on the shoulder. You’d turn and practically drool at the sight of him, knowing that in a few hours you’d be getting railed until you can hardly walk back to your desk. How this became so routine? Hell, you’ve long since forgotten. But who gives a fuck about the details?

“See you at noon?” He’d whisper in your ear, chuckling when you nod meekly. 12 o’clock was the time everyone usually took their lunch break which had proven to be the perfect time to get fucked on the job.

Once the clock struck 12, you slide your panties off under your desk and tuck them in your briefcase, a rule set by Kirishima to ensure that your cunt is exposed and ready for his filling. You walk towards the janitor’s closet; the one next to the women’s room and stand there to wait, awkwardly waving at the women who came out of the restroom with a weird stare. Suddenly the door opens and someone pulls you inside. 

Finally. He kissed you hard, his big stern hands grabbing and caressing your ass as if he owned you and everything attached to you. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist when he lifts you and pins you against the cold steel supply shelf. “Miss me, gorgeous?” Kirishima asks, his lips ghosting over yours as he hikes your skirt up over your ass, biting his lip when he feels you’re completely bare underneath. 

“You’re such a little slut for me, taking your panties off to come and get fucked in the janitor’s closet.” He starts kissing your neck, nibbling slightly to mark you just a little; he can’t help himself. 

You’re already getting so hot, your slick pooling at his fingertips as they run along your folds. He stands you on your feet and turns you around, getting down on his knees to worship your ass. His hands slap each cheek firmly, causing you to flinch and lean into the wall, ass sticking out for him. 

Before you can speak, his hands spread your ass apart, spitting onto your pussy. His tongue starts lapping up your slick folds as his hands squeeze your ass, your nails digging into your palms as you groan into your sleeves. You’re mewling so much you could swear someone could hear you, Kirishima’s thick fingers now sliding inside you while he stands on his feet. 

“Gotta get that tight cunt ready for me, baby. You like that?” He huffs into your hair, pumping his fingers inside you at a slow pace. You nod as you back your hips into his hand, Kirishima grabbing one hip to keep you still. 

“So eager. Stay still would, ya?” Kirishima taunts, speeding up his fingers as he smacked you ass to scold you. You yelp, the sting from the hit fading into blinding pleasure as he fingered you, your cunt squelching and making obscene  noises as you feel your legs turn to pudding. 

“Kiri I c-can’t, you’re gonna make me c-cum!” You whine, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“That’s the idea. Mm, cum all over my fucking fingers.” He urged, his fingers diving deeper into your greedy walls, your cunt sucking him inside as you cum with a hard clench. Kirishima smirked and pulled his fingers out of you, sticking them into his mouth with a moan at your flavor. 

“Good fuckin’ girl. On your knees.” He demands, pointing towards the floor. You obliged, moaning when you see him take his cock out of his uniform pants. Good lord, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing it in all its glory.

He was impossibly thick and long, prominent veins running along the shaft and a perfectly soft and spongey head; the one that kissed your cervix with every thrust. You open your mouth for him, tongue lolling out as he sticks his cock inside. Your lips wrap around him, moaning at the taste of his skin as you bob your head. Kirishima takes a fistful of your hair and fucks your throat, hissing when you gag and drool all over his cock. Your hands start grabbing at your breasts, unbuttoning your top to pull them outside of your bra. 

“God, look at you..” Kirishima groans, you giggling when he pulls you off his cock with a lewd “pop” sound. “Such a dirty girl.” Kirishima takes his thick cock and slaps it against your wet lips, pressing between them to get your mouth open again. Sucking him off got you so wet; the sounds of slurping and gagging. All of his dirty words laced with pleasurable grunts stirred your insides as your cunt ached with need.

Every time his cock hit the back of your throat you moan, reaching your hand down to help relieve the ache in your core. 

“Shit..” Eijiro moans at the state of you, a usually prim and proper business woman on her knees for him looking so fucking sloppy. 

It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, taking his hand to pinch and play with your nipples as you suckle on his dick head, taking it and slapping it against your tongue with a love struck look in your eye.

He burned that image of you in his mind, wanting to revisit this moment later when he was alone while bucking his hips to get you to wrap those soft lips around his cock again. Your fingers rub lazy circles on your swollen clit, moaning around his dick as he fucked your mouth. 

“So fucking sexy, baby.” He hissed, pulling his cock from your lips and sitting on his haunches. 

“C’mere.” He demands, slapping his thighs to get you to sit in his lap. You straddle his waist, his length resting on your slick cunt. He grinds your hips against his, the under side of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit with a groan. Kirishima lowers his hand and gives you the filling you’ve been craving all week, pressing his length against your weeping hole and pulling your hips down onto his length. 

The dull stretch caused you to grab onto his shoulders and hold tight, bouncing on his cock slowly to adjust to his monster of a cock. It was all so delicious; Kiri running his thumb along your swollen bud with a satisfied grunt. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming already, Eiji- shit!” You wail, breathy moans leaving your lips as he ruts his hips upwards, one of his big hands grabbing at your breast, the other rubbing your clit in soft circles. 

“Fuckin’ hell, baby..” He groans, rolling your hips into his as his hands run along your soft ass, striking it harshly. You’re drooling into his shoulder, holding onto the shelf that contained cleaning supplies for good measure, trying to keep up with his movements. With all the shaking, all the cleaning products started toppling over, loud clangs of the metal shelf echoing through the small closet to mask your loud moans. 

You both let out breathy half giggles, melting into each other’s bodies as Kirishima reached up to wrap your hair around his hand to yank it, attacking your now exposed neck with hot kisses and nibbles. He stands on his feet, fingers pressed into your ass to keep a tight grip on you as he lowered you onto his cock. You see stars as Eijiro picks you up and drops you onto his thick cock, scrambled sentences leaving your mouth as your mouth hangs open in bliss.

Kirishima kicks over a bucket, the stupid thing in his path as he pressed your bare back against the cold concrete wall. He rolls his hip into yours, lips wrapped around one of your nipples, nibbling lightly. Grunting and high pitched whines fill the closet, your bodies practically sticking together from the heat you both omitted. Tongues intertwined with each other, hands traveling along naked skin as he hit your g-spot over and over again in a blind rage. 

“F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum for you, baby.” you squeal, toes curling so hard you feel a cramp coming on; Kirishima bucking into with more fervor as you both reach a climax. 

“’M gonna cum inside you. Gonna make you my fuckin’ cum dump.” He huffed, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with every hit against your cervix. 

You both grunt; Kirishima painting your insides white as he rests you both onto the floor, grinding his hips a few more times before pulling out his flaccid form. Your back laid flat on the cold floor, looking up at him with clouded eyes from all the tears you shed from your encounter. Sex with Kirishima made working at this stuffy place so much more worth it. As he looked down at you he helped fix your clothes, the timer on his watch beeping to signal it was time to get back to work. 

“Ya know, we don’t have to wait to see each other once a week. I could fuck you like this every day, every night...” Eijiro said, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“Are you asking me out?” You tease, sitting up to button up your shirt.

“Depends.. are you saying yes?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he adjusts his pants.

“Maybe.”

[b0rista]

— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.

WARNINGS: light angst & swearing.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: he's one of my ultimate favorite snk characters, and i needed to cleanse my page of the heavy ass warrior content djjfjf.

"you're either a blessing, or you're a lesson. either or, you and i met for a reason."

with all of the gore and the misfortune that comes with your livelihood, it's connie that gets you through it.

as expected, you first fell in love with him for his humor. not for the humor itself, but for how it shed the smallest flicker of joy upon a heaping tower of despair— as soldiers, you needed that. fortunately, he was the one that brought it to the table. even during your days as cadets, connie lived to make you laugh. hearing a chuckle flutter from your core served as a form of therapy for him, and with time, he grew addicted.

with that being said, he does the stupidest shit in order to get your attention. even when you're together, he'll do what needs to be done. for example, one time, he tried to impress you by doing a trick while saddled up on his horse. in an attempt to twirl like a jackass ballerina, the horse decided that it deserved better, and kicked him clean off its back. at the sight of his 5'2 ass being hoisted eight feet into the air, you nearly choked.

prepare yourself, he's a cuddler. after a particularly hard day's worth of work, connie finds solace in bedding up with you, knowing that you're safe, and with him. he asks that you don't tell anybody, but he actually really enjoys cuddling as the little spoon. to have his head pressed against your chest, his ear to your heartbeat, brings him comfort. of course, he'll never detest to being your big spoon, either. he absolutely loves the feeling of you buried within his touch.

^ if you ever want to go an evening without cuddling, he'll be immediately offended. never, ever, ever will the two of you fall asleep back to back. he simply won't have it, it makes him feel as if something's wrong. and if that is the case, nobody's falling asleep until you've talked about it and successfully sorted it out.

at the beginning of your guys' relationship, everyone worried for you. did he coerce you, y/n? are you being forced? has he threatened you, has he threatened your family? nobody could grasp the fact that connie motherfuckin' springer had managed to pull you.

if there's any sort of sour talk regarding you, no matter how little it is, this man will leap to your defense. one time, jean called your bedhead ugly, and connie propelled a moldy roll of bread into his forehead. in the end, a massive food fight erupted, and you were just standing there with your bedhead like 🧍‍♀️

HOWEVER, there was an instance that actually led to a genuine, real fight between you two as a couple. you'd managed to scuff up your leg during the battle with kenny the ripper and his associates, and when it came down to who was and who wasn't going to tag along for the eren & historia rescue mission, connie belittled you to the team behind your back. not because he actually felt that way, but because he'd do anything to maintain your safety— even if it meant hurting your feelings. telling captain levi that your abilities were inadequate for that particular mission hurt him, but he did what he felt was necessary.

in the end, though, levi saw through the charade. to connie's dismay, you came with to save eren and historia. and during the entire journey, you didn't even utter a word to him. of course, though, during the battle, you put your frustrations aside. once you saw your lover's head nearly get kicked in during combat, you understood his intentions, and you forgave him. as expected, he replied to your forgiveness with humor,, his go-to coping mechanism.

"considering how sexy i looked on the battlefield, i knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

whenever his hair starts to grow out, you're the one that gets to cut it back down! he's able to do it himself, but he really likes it when you do it. you're typically propped up in his lap, sitting face to face as you file down his edges. he always loops his arms around your waist, intently staring you in the face— seeing you so concentrated on his hair, he can't help it.

you wouldn't expect this from connie whatsoever, but he likes it when you read to him. pick a literature of your choice and let him kick back and rest his head onto your lap, pleasE. he'll close his eyes, and for the first time in forever, stay still. the only time he and books ever coexist is when you're reading one to him. he'll also make fun of you whenever you stumble over a sentence,, so get ready.

the day you realize that this motherfucker is nearing six feet tall, you're ready for the holy spirit to whisk you away. literally, you measure his height on the weekly once you realize he just keeps gaining inches. that, and when he starts growing more into his face? lawd, take you now.

"connie, you're getting seXY-"

"what the hell does thaT mE A N-"

many, many proposals. none are meant to be taken seriously, which the both of you know. still, there are far too many proposals between the two of you. one time, you killed a fly midair, and he thought you were the baddest bitch on the block.

"marry me."

another time, he swooped you into the air with his maneuvering gear, and as you held onto him for dear life, you looked him dead in the face: "marry me, you baldheaded bastard."

it can be a reel, how many times the two of you say that bullshit. somehow, it's cute.

he doesn't really take basic boundaries into consideration. like, one time, you caught him using your toothbrush because he couldn't find his. it wasn't fun, you had to give him a serious talking to.

he is, without a doubt, constantly prepared to lay down his life for you on the battlefield. during his time as a soldier, he's grown significantly strong— and once he fell in love with you, he's felt even stronger. not only do you give him drive, but you lend him strength. with that being said, you're somebody he'd die for without even an ounce of hesitation. and knowing him, he's probably made that more than obvious.

when connie's village was destroyed and it was discovered that his entire family was turned into titans, you were one of the only ones to actually comfort him. you were absolutely enraged at how nonchalantly your lover's loss was set aside, and although he'd tried his hardest to conquer the grief alone, it was you who sat at his bedside at night, cradling him in your arms as he wept. never in your life had you seen him so distraught. after that period of time, your relationship with him only deepened in its seriousness. 

as expected, you and sasha spend quite a bit of time together! after all, that's your boyfriend's best friend. given her easygoing nature, it didn't take long for sasha to absolutely adore you. naturally, she wonders how the hell you manage to operate with a boyfriend like that, but she tries not to ask questions.

speaking of the wonder twins, they love getting you in trouble. whenever the two of them think up an astonishingly moronic shenanigan, there's a solid 50/50 chance that you'll be looped into it, too. one time, they purposefully dulled jean's razor, and when he went to shave, it only ended in him splitting his face open due to placing too much pressure. as a joke, those two jackasses carved your initials into the handle. when jean decided that he'd murder you, connie tried playing the hero, lEapiNg to your defense. it was stupid, and it didn't work. you still laugh about it, though.

there have been several jokes regarding starting a family and growing old together— secretly, though, connie doesn't want them to just be jokes.

he stole a stray cat for you. yup, yes he did. the two of you were walking about the city, and you saw a gray-haired sleeping beside a trash bin behind a local vendor. you compared its fur to the color of his hair, calling it cute. out of impulse, connie went back to that exact same vendor later on that day, trapped the cat in a box, and brought it to your doorstep.

his forearms and fingertips were covered in claw marks, but to see your face light up the way that it did, any amount of pain was immediately worth it.

after the nickname that shadis had given connie on the first day of cadet training, you named the kitty q-ball. 🥺

during the season four era, the two of you share a house. at first, captain levi argued against it— "put a pair of horny teenagers in a home together, what do you think is gonna happen?"

y'all said fuck it, and lived together anyways. it's you, him, and your lovely child, q-ball. occasionally jean, too. some nights, he doesn't want to be alone.

eskimo kisses. during the prepping of every single mission, you'll get eskimo kisses. it's a small, loving gesture the two of you do before heading into the battlefield. as a sign of your love, you'll press your foreheads together and rub noses, weapons holstered and ready for combat. it's a serious tradition, and it'll never be ignored.

and after a mission, connie has this habit of pinching your cheeks immediately after rushing towards you. it isn't to be cute, either. it's so that he can scan you, and check you for any harm. basically, it's him squeezing the life out of your face while bombarding you with questions.

expect supremely cheesy pet names! bae, biscuit, buttercup, baby thing, sexy bitch, and so on. if it were anyone else, he would 100% make fun of them. but it's him, therefore adorable.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Safe

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: A fight with your boyfriend leads you to hide a big secret from Angel

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, torture (nothing explicit), blood, violence, and swearing.

A/N: Shoutout to @starrynite7114​ for indulging me and all of my ideas. Thanks friend, you’re the best! Also, I’m really in love with this story, so I kinda got carried away and made it 3.2k words. Sorry guys! I hope you enjoy. 

Divider by: @firefly-graphics​

Of course, you would refuse to call anyone to come get you. Frankie’s job was never easy and why should it start now? Since, you were put in the cell, Frankie was trying to get you to call Angel, EZ, Miguel, or Nestor, but you refused to.

“Y/N, please!” Frankie was not above begging. He would do anything to get you to call any of your close friends. “They’re gonna find out either way and if they find out I didn’t let you tell them, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Frankie, stop being so dramatic. They’ll beat your ass, not kill you.” The deputy groaned and childishly stomped his feet. “I’m kidding. They won’t lay a finger on you. But if you’re scared of what they’ll do to you, what do you think they will do to Russell?”

Russell, your boyfriend, well your ex-boyfriend now was the reason you were sitting a jail cell. Something must have possessed him, because he was bold enough to punch you, but when you turned the tables and beat his ass, he actually called the cops on you. Then, the cops arrested you because Russell looked like the victim.

“I don’t understand why you’re protecting him. He put his hands on you.”

“And I beat his motherfucking ass. That doesn’t warrant his death. Now let me make my call.” Frankie threw up his hands and let you out of the cell. “Fucking finally!”

The only person you could call knowing they wouldn’t tell any of the Mayans (specifically Angel) and Miguel was Felipe. “Mija,” he whispered when he saw you. He tilted your head gently to inspect your new black eye.

“It looks worse than it feels.” You patted his hand and began walking to his truck. “You know you have to tell Angel.” Felipe began his spiel, commenting on how he couldn’t keep this from his son. “I will. Just give me some time.”

The Reyes patriarch reluctantly agreed and went on to make sure you were feeling okay and safe. He even ignored your protests and walked you inside your home and quizzed you on how to shoot a gun properly. “I’m good, Felipe. I promise, girl scout’s honor.” His eyes roamed your house once more, checking for any threats. “Okay, mija. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” Then he left you to wonder how you were going to avoid seeing Angel, someone you nearly see every day, until you were healed.

Angel was getting really worried now. He hadn’t seen you in a couple of days due to you being busy, but now you were missing Wednesday breakfast at Pop’s. You never missed those. Even if you were drunk or too tired, you would drag your ass over like a zombie just for that breakfast.

If you were missing breakfast because of Galindo, then he wouldn’t hesitate to tell him off. That man took too much of your time already. “You think something happen to Y/N? Maybe I’ll go over to check on her.” Angel asked his little brother.

“Relax Angel,” Felipe sits a cup of coffee in front of his eldest. “She’s probably just healing up.”

Angel spits out his coffee when the words finally register. “Healing?”

“Fuck,” Felipe mutters. “Healing? Pops, she’s healing from what?” Felipe explained everything to his sons. He told them how Russell hit you and when you defended yourself, he called the cops on you and you had to spend some time in jail.

Both Reyes brothers were pissed, but Angel more than EZ. He’s been in love with you since you were kids. “And you’re just fucking telling me now?!”

“I was giving her a chance to tell you herself. You know she’s as stubborn as you. She almost didn’t call me at all.” Felipe didn’t mind his son’s outburst, he completely understood it. He’s just as pissed at himself for keeping the secret so long (if you consider two days long).

EZ probably understood you a bit better than Angel, because you were both alike, so he could see why you didn’t tell them. That’s why he stopped Angel. He knew if Angel confronted you right now, that you would deflect and shut down. “Angel, not this way.” He pulled his brother back by the bicep.

“Then what do you fucking suggest, Ezekiel?” If EZ didn’t hurry up, he might just catch the hands that were meant for Russell. “Just hear me out. Let’s make a call and if you still wanna go then we’ll go.” After EZ explained exactly what he wanted to do, Angel calmed down significantly.

From the sink, Felipe watched his sons come together and well-meaningly plot against you. When the boys left, Felipe went to Marisol’s urn and pressed a kiss to it. “You think she’ll forgive me, mi vida?” Soon, he felt an overwhelming warmth and calmness. “Thank you, hermosa.”

You fidgeted with your sunglasses. Hopefully, Miguel wouldn’t comment on you wearing them in the house. If so, you’ll lie about having a hangover or something.

He gave you a couple of days off per your request but called you in for an emergency. He promised it would be quick and that you could go home promptly.

But then you saw the motorcycles. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to mediate between Miguel and the MC. They never spoke about anything illegal around you, but they did call on you to ease the tension. You were better than Marcus at switching in between the two and making them agreeable with each other.

Dealing with their drama was the least of your concerns. Not only do you have to lie to Miguel, but all of the Mayans as well. Plus, you had to deal with Angel, who you’ve been avoiding for the past two days. This was gonna be a challenge.

“Gentlemen,” you greeted everyone. At least they didn’t look like they were gonna kill each other. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s more like what can we do for you.” Miguel was at the table, chin in hand. “No one’s heard from you in a couple of days.”

They couldn’t possibly know. Could they? “Ah, you know this cold is kicking my ass. I’ve just been sleeping.”

Angel sat up a little straighter before leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hmm, and the sunglasses, querida?”

“Oh um, you know cough medicine plus whiskey equals a bad hangover.” All of the men looked like they didn’t believe you. Time to abort mission. “Um, well if there is nothing I can do, I’ll just go on home and get that much needed rest.”

You went to grab your purse, but you were no match against Angel’s long legs. He was in front of you lifting your glasses off. “Angel, no!”

If Angel was pissed about this earlier, now seeing you and your black eye, he was nuclear now. Fuck this, he thought. He was gonna go kill Russell right now.

Grabbing his wrist, you tried to stop him, but Angel was too strong. He slightly pushed you away, but when he heard you wince in pain it stopped him dead in his tracks.

This time it was Miguel’s turn to inspect your injuries. He lifted up your blouse and saw your bruised ribs. All of the men were in a commotion now, ready to ride out and string that motherfucker up.

“Querida,” Angel sighed and gently pulled you into a hug. You could feel his tears on your own cheek which made you shed some of your own. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bishop chimed in.

“Because it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Because it wasn’t a big deal?!” Miguel repeated, blown away by how nonchalant you were about this. “THAT PENDEJO HIT YOU! Don’t you think it’s a big deal?”

Oh shit, you don’t know if they’re more pissed at you or Russell at this point. “No, it is, but I handled it. Now he has to walk around town looking fucked up knowing I was the one who did it to him.”

Bishop tapped the table in anger. He could just shake you right now. “No, you should’ve called one of us the moment that pussy called the cops on you.”

“Hey, let’s not go insulting pussies! They take poundings most men couldn’t handle.” You weren’t going to allow Bishop to insult the thing they all loved sticking their dicks in.

“Y/N!” Miguel was beginning to get frustrated with you and your deflections. “Miguel!” You mimicked his tone. Nestor stepped in between you, to play ref. Even though you were Miguel’s assistant the two of you fought like siblings. “Okay, Y/N/N that’s enough.”

“Is it, Nestor?” You cocked your head to side, annoyed with being told what to do. “I come out of the comfort of my home thinking my help was needed, but instead I get ambushed!”

“Because you fucking lied!” Angel slammed his hand against the table, causing everyone even you to jump a little. “You let everyone believe you were okay when you were in pain.” His voice cracked slightly, thinking of how much worse you could’ve been. He always heard the horror stories of domestic violence and he promised himself that if something as ugly and vile would happen to anyone close to him, then that sorry excuse of a man would never walk the face of the earth again.

“Okay, I get it. You’re upset. But I handled it, there’s no need for any of you to get involved.” Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if they would just beat Russell’s ass, but that’s all you wanted. A simple (well maybe not so simple considering who these men are) beatdown. But you knew these men who you called family were. A threat to you was a threat to them and vice versa. Their pigheadedness wouldn’t allow it.  As you thought, they explained to you that an affront to you, an extension of the Mayans MC and the Galindo family was disrespect to them and that would not be tolerated.

However, by the grace of God and lots of negotiating techniques, you were able to come to some middle ground. They wouldn’t kill Russell, just make him wish they did. It was going good until a call came in from Russell’s sister Sienna. She was calling you all kinds of bitches, hoes, sluts, and claiming you as the mc’s whore, threatening you that her and a gang of her cousins were gonna jump you for fighting her brother. Conniving little bitch. He probably convinced all of his friends and family you were the aggressor and they would have no problem trying you.

When the phone call ended, you immediately try to place everything back right on track. “This changes nothing, okay?” Even though you could see that you lost them, you were gonna be in the fight of your life. “Really, Y/N? Now he’s lying on your name to his family and they’re ready to beat yo ass. Fuck that! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Angel was fed up with you protecting Russell’s weak ass.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!” Everything that happened over the past couple of days were finally bubbling over. “It’s all of you fucking alpha males with your machismo thinking I need protection. I’m not weak! I’m not some damsel in distress! I can handle my own damn problems.”

You grabbed your things and shoulder checked Angel on your way out, but you were stopped by one voice that had yet to speak up until now. “Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N!” It was a decibel below a yell, but it still held the same energy.

Marcus Alvarez was your dad’s best friend outside of Bishop. Your dad was his mechanic whenever Marcus came into Santo Padre and that how the quickly bonded with each other. Last year, when your dad died of a stroke, Marcus promised to keep an eye on you. “Sit down,” he ordered, and you quickly listened, knowing his tone tolerated no insubordination.

“You gotta teach me that.” Angel told the revered El Padrino, which earned him harsh glares from you, Marcus, and Bishop.

Alvarez ignored Angel and came to sit next to you. “No one is calling you weak, sweetheart. When you’re a real man, things like what that cabrón did really works you up. Add that you know the woman he did it to and it makes you bloodthirsty. Now if your dad were alive what do you think would happen?” He asked, his voice lighter and more conspiratorial.

Laughter bubbled up your throat. If your dad were alive this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. “Get that baseball bat and bash his knees in and that would be the least of it.” Marcus playfully shoved your shoulder. “You know it. So, you know what we gotta do?” You nodded your head, not liking it, but Russell was grown and should’ve known this would seal his fate.

“And after this could you please put Angel out of his misery? Bishop can’t take anymore of him walking around like a sad puppy dog.” Your eyes went to Angel who was indeed standing not too far away with his puppy dog eyes and fidgeting with his rings. “Yeah, I got you.” Your eyes stayed on Angel as you answered Alvarez. Suddenly, Angel got nervous under your warm stare and smile. He didn’t know what you could possibly be plotting with Alvarez.

Angel was granted his reprieve when you asked what the plan was, which sent everyone in a tizzy. There was a resounding no in the room as the men denied your request to be part of their revenge quest. “You can’t be there, Y/N. You need complete deniability.”  Miguel began to escort you out and you couldn’t even argue against that.

You knew now it wasn’t a woman thing. If they ever find out about his death or dig into his disappearance you would be suspect number one. So, you allowed Miguel to push you into the arms of his mother as him and the rest of the men planned who knows what.

Russell was smart. He knew word about what happened to you would get to the Mayans and Galindo, so naturally he went on the run.

It took them a little longer than they have liked to find him, but they did. Chasing Russell fueled them even more. By the time they got their hands on him, Russell knew he was a dead man.

Everyone gotten their pound of flesh when they caught Russell. Even Prissy Miguel (something Angel loved to call him behind his back) got his hands dirty.

The best was saved for last though. Angel stood back and watched his brothers and Miguel and his crew beat the dog shit out of Russell.

“What? You’re not gonna get in on this? You’re the whole reason why that whore got hit in the first place.” Russell glared or tried to glare at Angel through his swollen eyes. He thought if he poked the bear hard enough maybe just maybe the bear would go ballistic and end his life right then and there. He didn’t know how much more of this torture he could endure.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Angel was so caught up that Russell hit you that he didn’t bother to ask what led up to it. To him it didn’t matter because no man should ever put hands on a woman, but to hear he was the cause didn’t sit right with him.

“Of course, she didn’t tell you, dumb fucking slut.” Angel whacked him across his ribs with a baseball bat. “Watch your damn mouth! And start fucking talking.”

“Okay!” Russell cried out in agony. “She was breaking up with me to be with you! She said she couldn’t be with another person knowing she was in love with you.”

Angel stood there shocked. All this time he didn’t think you felt the same way about him and now he found out you got hurt because of your true feelings.

Coco could tell it would take a while for Angel to process that. He was always slow on the uptake when it came to you. So, Coco took his cigarette and burned holes into Russell’s skin. “So, what you’re saying is that Y/N was kind enough to let you down easy and not cheat on you. She told you the truth and you decided to hit her? That’s some weak ass shit!” Everyone was ready to take another hit, but they knew Russell wouldn’t last and that Angel should be the one to take him out.

Finally, Angel snaped out of it and went at Russell with the bat, making sure he broke his knees. “Fucking piece of shit!” Eventually, the baseball bat was forgotten, and Angel was beating Russell with his bare hands. Life left Russell awhile ago, but that didn’t stop Angel. His brothers literally had to pull him off the dead body.

“EZ get your brother cleaned up and make sure he’s calmed down before he goes see her.” Bishop ordered the new patch. Everyone else would stay behind for cleanup. “Got it, Prez.” EZ lightly shoved his brother, “C’mon Angel, let’s go get your girl.”

You had just gotten home from the movies and drinks with Emily. From how she wouldn’t take no for an answer you knew the guys had found Russell.

Chucking your heels across the room you made your way to your kitchen until you heard your door unlocking. The door opened and revealed Angel. You could tell he just showered by the little droplets of water still clinging to his hair.

“Angel, what are you doi-,” he caught off your question with his lips. He cradled your face as if you were the most precious thing ever.

“Do you love me?” He asked, out of breath like he wasn’t the one to just rock your world with a simple kiss. “Duh Angel, I love you. Why do you think I laugh at all your dumb jokes? You’re not that funny.”

“Ouch, querida that hurts.” He covered his heart in mock hurt. “Question is do you love me, Mr. Angel Ignacio Reyes?” You rested your palms on his chest and looked up at him expectantly.

Angel licked his lips in deep thought and ticked his head to the side. “I thought when I kissed the living daylights out of you it told you so.”

Backing away you patted his firm pecs. “Okay, chill your kiss wasn’t even all that.”

“Is that so?” A smile ghosted on Angel’s lips.

“Yup.” You deadpanned, crossing your arms across your chest. “Okay then.” Angel sighed before he chased you through your house.

All you could hear was Angel’s heavy feet, your giggles, and the occasional taunting. Finally, Angel caught you and sat you on your island. Loud giggles turned into soft chuckles. Soft chuckles turned into silent longing gazes with soft smiles. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Angel.”

Angel grabbed one of your hands and interlocked your fingers with his. “I’ll keep you safe.” Angel tilted your conjoined hands to kiss yours. You mimicked Angel’s action and did the same to his. “I know.”

The rest of the night you spent it where you felt the safest, in Angel’s arms.

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[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 6--On the Inside

Very appropriate title by the way.  Works in a multitude of ways.  

As always, my randomness is going beneath a cut again to spare the eyeballs of those of you that don’t want to see it at all and also?  Help those of you that have somehow stayed spoiler-free in this brand-new age of early release episodes.  It is still so wild to me that I’m a full episode ahead of half the fandom.  I don’t know what I’m going to do when we get to the final episode and they decide to make us all suffer together--because somehow I do feel they will do exactly that after spoiling us for the first 23 episodes.  It is going to be agonizing.  

Anyway.  Without further ado, Shae’s stream of consciousness review (of sorts).  

Not fair, Angela.  Opening the episode with that shot of that big ass spider.  I hate those suckers.  So naturally, they’re an easy sell for setting the horror scene to me, lol.  

Okay.  Who the hell’s chasing Virgil and Connie?  Walker No-See-Ums?

Barely a minute in and the atmosphere for this episode is moody AF.  

What is this?  Tara Jr. The Walking Dead?  LOL.  Where’s the Scarlett for this mini plantation house?  Anyway.  First three minutes of this episode?  Just as attention grabbing as the first five episode openings this season.  I don’t think people out there are giving our writers enough love for that.  Every episode so far has opened like a mini movie.  

With the way the Walking Dead logo keeps crumbling away with each successive episode, somehow it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the Carol and Daryl spinoff was eventually titled The Living and had flowers growing out of each letter, lol.  I mean, there would be a certain sort of life-affirming symmetry in a show that’s been promised to be much lighter in tone doing just that.  

More Carol and Aaron?  Yes, please.  I don’t necessarily like Carol staying at home and sitting the sidelines like a figurative happy little homemaker in the B story while the rest of the mains are trying like hell to sell the A story, but if she’s going to be totally prohibited from the main storyline until it’s time to blow shit up?  I’m going to continue enjoy getting to see her do what she should have been doing for seasons--interacting with others in the community, especially Aaron and the ladies.  

Truly.  I really am loving my girl getting some quality Aaron and Rosita time.  It’s so long overdue.  

Bless sweet Kelly.  Riding off to her sister’s rescue.  

Why isn’t Lydia shown as part of these plans?  For someone that could barely read last season, I doubt that big ass map was a piece of cake for her and it’s all just guesswork anyway without her guidance.  I mean, why does it feel like they are cutting some of this stuff that might not seem like much plot-wise but would go a long way toward establishing different character beats?  Personally, I would have loved to see her involved in the search and sharing scenes again with Carol and bonding with Kelly. 

Virgil be having that “I always feel like somebody’s watching me” feeling.  Don’t you hate that, lol?  

“You haven’t slept in days.”  But how many days, Virgil?  I’m going to need a number because I’m confused AF about this timeline at this point.  What we’re seeing and what different pieces of dialogue is telling us is not exactly lining up.  I’m going to find it awful hilarious if it hasn’t even been two weeks since the cave in.  For reasons.  

Connie’s spidey senses are clearly tingling.  

Alrighty, then.  She’s clearly got PTSD.  Understandable.  They’ve all had it.  Some have been treated more sympathetically than others, though.  

I mean, it never seems to cross anybody’s mind how Carol probably sees Henry’s head on that pike, Mika’s pale and bloody body, Lizzie crumpled face down in a bed of yellow flowers, Sophia with a smoking bullet hole through her undead head whenever she closes her eyes but whatever.  

Okay though.  But what if Connie had really shitty, impossible to read handwriting?  AKA doctor’s  handwriting.  What then?  

Leah’s face honestly twists my insides whenever I see it, lol.  It’s quiet a visceral thing.  No, that does not make me a horrible person.  Not everybody wants or has to drink the awesome, great, redeemable villainess Kool-Aid.  IMHO, she’s got a face meant for a Walker.  Perfect makeover idea.  Eh.  Mostly it’s her expression and the deadness of her eyes.  

Anyway.  Why is it always the fingers?  Eff that.  

Listen.  If ya’ll can’t tell Daryl’s conflicted AF with the situation he’s landed in, you don’t know how to read NR’s face and eyes.  He’s not a masterclass like MMB but he’s pretty darn good when he wants to be.  

I honestly feel sorry for Redshirt Frost.  

“You do what you gotta do.”  Frost knows what’s what and he’s willing to walk the walk for Maggie.  Impressive loyalty.  I’m left wondering how the current, colder incarnation of Maggie inspired it because I’m still struggling to see it.  Anywho.  My point is the dude knows the score and just gave Daryl the okay.  

Daryl taking off his angel vest before stepping into the role of torturer/interrogator=him shedding the persona/the man Judith and RJ and Lydia and Carol know him to be.  Pushing away his man of honor status so he can just survive somehow.  

Pope never quits chewing whatever the hell he’s got in his mouth.  It’s kind of distracting.  

Ohhh.  We’re back to the Haunted Mansion.  I mean house.  Where are the Hitchhiking Ghosts?  

All the eyes scratched out of those creepy pictures=spooky.  

The good old fogged up bathroom mirror shot.  Somebody’s been watching and studying their horror movies, lol.  Not gonna lie though.  I’m legit bracing myself for the jump scares I know have to be coming.  

I’m loving the music/score in these scenes.  

Truthfully, I could care less about these Reapers.  But they are hella attractive, lol.  Listen.  Angela knows what she’s doing.  

Kelly’s horse is so pretty.  Prayer chain for that baby.  

More dead horses?  Why?  

Connie’s slingshot?  Sorry.  I maintain, no matter how much I like these two, that they have the lamest weapons ever.  Endless supply of Virginia rocks or not.  

So.  Did Virgil and Connie enjoy a little equine for dinner?  Did they kill it before the Walkers fed?  What monsters!  Yeah, no.  Not if they were starving even if I personally could not have.  The more probable story is they fled the camp in a panic and left the horse behind and then it went down.  Sorry.  I didn’t exactly study the wounds on the poor animal because it is so traumatizing to me to continue to see them meet such dastardly ends on this show.  I don’t know who the hell has such a score to settle with horses but stop it.  

Days.  It’s only been days.  Not weeks.  So many times with all that Daryl and Company have had to contend with since the cave in?  Those do not exist, lol.  They’re just a convenient, appeasing piece of dialogue thrown at a fanbase primed and ready to read everything into not much of anything.  There’s just not been enough time for it to happen unless Daryl has literally been up 24/7 for all of them.  You know, strategizing how to attack the remainders of Alpha’s horde, figuring out how to defend Hilltop before it fell, healing from the wound he sustained at Alpha’s hand, sitting on that log all damn night with Negan waiting on Carol to come home, having a lover’s quarrel with his best damn everything, taking care of the Grimes babies and Lydia, being the reluctant leader.  Kang, why you playing them like that?  Daryl’s a super guy but he’s not a superhuman with clones.  So many times my ass.  

Seriously.  Who been watching Connie and Virgil?  The MIA Oceansiders?  Beta’s Fee Fi Fo Fum Ghost?  

Nice.  A Michonne mention.  Maybe the truth will start to trickle out.  

LMAO at Connie’s “I’m not staying here.”  Me neither, girl.  I would be outta that house so fast.  

They really “Quiet Placing” this episode.  Honestly?  I’m kinda loving it.  

WTF was that?  I know she can’t hear but you telling me all the little hairs on her arms, legs, and neck didn’t stand the fuck up and say fuck this shit, I’m gone?  Pardon my language, lovelies, but that moment had my heart kicking up several beats.  

Okay, okay.  To be fair to Connie, every hair on her body been doing that since the front door closed.  Maybe they’re desensitized.  

Gollum’s chasing Connie!!!  He/She wants their Precious!!!

The knee jerk reactions about this episode sight unseen are OTT, honestly.  And I mean no disrespect by saying that.  I can understand completely where they’re coming from because we’ve been burned so long in this fandom.  But it’s obvious the spoiler source has their particular biases and reads into things in such a way that don’t line up with what’s actually being shown onscreen.  Daryl’s loyalty in this episode and all along quite clearly lies with his family and his community.  He’s been playing Leah since the start and is truly just trying to survive somehow.  

Awful thought.  The Reaper that’s so suspish of Daryl--haven’t quite caught his name or really cared to.  I feel like he might try to get to Daryl somehow.  When he realizes that Daryl cares no more for Leah than any human would care for somebody (they thought) they used to know?  He’s going after Dog.  Or Carol should she finally join this story. 

I refuse to believe Carol isn’t going to be a part of this story.  Because they messing with her mans, lol.  

“You’re ever with us or you’re not.”  Now where have I heard those words before?  I wish I could find that Daryl gif because that had to be one of the funniest things ever, lol.  

Unrealistic suggestion to Daryl, Leah?  Breathing oxygen seems to piss off Carver.  Oh look.  He finally has a name for me, lol.  

I love how all three of the ladies--Carol, Magna, and Rosita--look at Kelly with such indulgent, adoring “little sis, you alright?” eyes.  

They are seriously the most beautiful quartet of characters.  I mean all of them are lovely but Carol and Rosita this season?  Ugh.  The unfairness of the pretty.  

Human bones.  Terminus callback, lovelies.  How it all would have eventually gone down if Gareth and Co. hadn’t met the business end of Rick’s red machete.  

So many horror movie homages in this one.  

Virgil’s like “let’s leave this Texas Chainsaw Massacre behind.”  

Connie and Virgil have obviously bonded, ya’ll.  I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying their scenes together when the character mostly got on my nerves with Michonne.  He’s a good actor and the core of his character is sympathetic, but I’m not going to lie.  I wasn’t super enthused when he was the one that rescued Connie because I didn’t know how their scenes would play out. But there’s a nice synergy there.  

Okay.  Does Carver want Leah for himself?  Because I’m sure Daryl at this point would love to scream “take her, I know where I fucking belong!”  

Daryl’s digging in deep because Carver has shown him Leah’s potential weak spot.  Nuance is truly lost on some people, LMAO.  He cares about Leah as a human being probably.  He’s Daryl, after all.  The sweet one.  But he sees her as his way outta this and he’s going to exploit it.  

It’s nice to have a silent Negan for once, lol.  I can pretend he didn’t take my baby Glenn away from me and enjoy JDM’s pretty.  

So.  These cannibal people were the watchers?  Hmm.  

I’m really digging Virgil 2.0.  Yeah.  Nobody’s surprised more than me.  

Sweet, sweet scene between Virgil and Connie.  His determination to reunite her with her family brings back the sympathy I felt for him when he told Michonne “I promised her flowers.  Every day.”  

Damn.  How many of those creepy crawly cannibals are there?  

How brave of Connie to confront her fears to save someone she’s obviously grown to care about.  

The Kelly/Connie reunion gave me chills and made me cry.  Thank fuck Angela didn’t cheapen that moment by having it focus on literally anybody else.  Kelly is the most important person in the whole world to Connie and vice versa.  Just like Carol is the most important person in the whole world to Daryl and vice versa.  Angela fucking knows.  Everybody does.  Except the people busy building castles out of sand while the waves of Carol’s and Daryl’s converging stories keep crashing closer and closer to shore.  

Such a beautiful moment given to us by Angel Theory and Lauren Ridloff.  So authentic and sweet.  Kelly and Connie are home to each other.  

Poor Frost.  That’s all I gotta say about that.  

WTF, though.  Was Mel just not available or what?  I want to see more of the ASZ characters that I care about, not the Reapers.  Like I’d be fine with the story if all the characters not named Maggie, Negan, or Daryl weren’t surviving on crumbs during it.  Especially the 2nd billed actress on the entire show.  Angela.  Please.  Fix this.  

One last WTF.  Seriously.  WTF has Maggie done to inspire Pope’s obsession?  It better be juicy after all this shit.  

Overall impression of the episode--

One of my favorites of the season so far.  The horror aspects were fantastic, IMHO. I truly didn’t expect to like Connie and Virgil’s scenes as much together so that was a nice surprise.  She got the reunion that felt most true and earned for the character and her story and I thank Angela from the bottom of my heart for that.  

I would have loved more Carol but I always want more Carol.  I’m okay with her taking a backseat because ultimately?  This was Kelly’s moment with her sister.  Carol and Connie will eventually have their time to sit down and talk.  And pick back up their blossoming friendship because I truly do not feel Connie blames Carol at all.  

I do wish Lydia had been included with the girl group.  Last episode felt like it was leading up to that.  

The Reaper storyline continues to be the weakest link because every time we see them the dialogue and interactions feel totally recycled from the time previous.  I feel like it would have totally been helped by a tighter focus and less stretching out because 8 episodes of this is really diluting what I feel like Angela and Co. are going for.  I’m not here for Leah being redeemed or being a bigger focus in any of the episodes because she does nothing of interest for me.  I’m just peeking in on that story for the Daryl of it all.  

Speaking of the Daryl? You lovelies out there gotta stop taking that spoiler source’s recaps at face value because it’s obvious to me at least that there’ some bias at work.  Every action and word coming from Daryl is coming from a place of loyalty to his family and wanting to protect them, no matter how he has to dirty his hands.  Leah is just a means to his ultimate end.  She’s not his future.  She never was.  His future’s already spoken for and 2023 can’t get  here soon enough.  But like Daryl, we have to just survive somehow.  

Oh goodie.  More Maggie and Negan next episode and looks like no real follow up on Connie and the ASZ reunions.  Hopefully, this is yet another instance of the previews being deceiving but I’m not holding my breath.  

Until later, lovelies.  

Hope my word vomit didn’t bore you too much.  

[the-rawr-ster]

Title: To Die In Your Arms

Chapter 3: Jean’s Mom

W/C: 2301

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, sickness, death , and poverty.

A/N: Send an ask to be added to tag list. Sorry it took me so long to update, but I’ll try to update more often.

You looked at the boy, confused. Nobody had ever shown you kindness before, granted he was not nice about it, but the fact remains that it was a kind and selfless act.

Stuffing his mouth with an omelet, he says “You snore and drool in your sleep.”

You had been drooling at the sight of it. It was a struggle to get food at this time. You hadn’t even finished the bread the boy had given to you. You had been trying to spare it so it would last you a week.

“You shouldn’t eat that in public,” you whisper. “People kill over that stuff.”

The boy rolled his eyes and reached to unbutton his bag. Letting out a grunt, the boy struggled to unlatch the bag. He pulled something out, wrapped in a hunter-green cloth.

“Really,” he huffed, ” ‘Cause I brought extras.”

Your eyes widened. Why would anyone do that for you? Why would a boy who didn’t know you do that?

“What is it,” you asked.

“Do you want it or not?”

“Y-you brought this for me?”

“Obviously.”

You snatched the green cloth from him before retreating to your corner. “T-thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it.”

As you scarfed down your meal, the boy made his way to the edge of the roof. The wind brushed through his light brown hair. He leaned over as he rested his hands on the ledge for support, scanning the street below. Nothing but a dead dog and trash had been at the bottom of the building.

“Why,” He turns to you. “Why were you going to jump?”

The answer was simple, there was nothing left here for you. Your parents were dead, and you had no friends. Nobody would have cared if you died. Nobody would shed a tear. Nobody would even recognize you because everyone you knew was dead. Even the kids you met on the boat were probably dead, Armin, Mikasa, and Eren. In fact, ost of Shigansia had probably died. You were probably the last survivor, but could you really call it surviving?

“I guess I should have asked why you chose not to jump.”

“I-” you stammered.

He leans back over the ledge. “You don’t have to tell me now. But eventually, you’ll have to know.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jean” he replied. “Jean Kirschtein.”

“I’m Y/N.”

As the days passed, the sky cleared up. Jean had often brought you things you needed to survive. You guys talked about things you liked and wanted to do. You ran around like children do, chasing each other with sticks. He was starting to become a friend, but not just any friend, your best friend. Your only friend. But you had wondered if it would last forever.

“Hey, Jean,” you say, brushing your fingers through his hair, as he lies in your lap.

“Yes?”

“What’s your mom like?”

Jean paused before speaking. He spent most of his days with you, away from his family. He didn’t always get along with them. They would argue and fight all the time. Although, he was the one who did do most of the arguing.

He sighs. “ Let’s just say, she’s an old hag.”

“I’m serious.”

You looked up at the pitch-black sky. What was it like to have a mother? You had forgotten about yours. You couldn’t remember how she looked or what her laugh sounded like. You hadn’t even remembered what she did for a living. What kind of mother was she? Did she nag a lot? Was she home often? Did you guys fight a lot? You couldn’t remember, and every time you tried, you would get a sharp pain in your temple.

“Jean, I don’t remember her” you admitted.

“Who,” he snored.

You had been so in your head that you hadn’t even realized your friend had fallen asleep. You stared at him, your eyes analyzing all the little details in his face. The moonlight highlighted his cheekbones. His hair fell messily over his eyebrows. He looked so peaceful. He was always so tense, and angry. There was really no way to describe it.

“My mom. I don’t remember her. I don’t remember her face. I don’t remember her laugh. Her smile. The color of her eyes. The sound of her voice. I forgot everything.”

The tears began spilling out of your eyes again. It pained you, trying to remember them when you couldn’t. All you could remember was the sight of blood and the smell of rotten flesh. That was hard to forget. Death was hard to forget. The blue sky was slowly devoured by gray clouds, followed by rain engulfing your tears.

You shook Jean. “Wake up. It’s raining.”

Jean brushed you off, cursing under his breath. You sighed, lifting the boy’s head off of your lap. You lifted jean, wrapping his arm around your neck. You wobbled, trying to gain a better footing. You make your way down the stairs, holding onto the wall and rusted railing for support. The weight of your feet on the steps made a creak with each step.

When you reached the bottom step, you ran head first into an older man about a foot taller than you. You had fallen into your ass, your friend still sound asleep next to you. Next to the tall, droopy-eyed man stood a pretty girl that looked much younger than him. She had been surrounded by a kind aura, bright enough to outshine the sun.

“Watch where you’re going,” the old man scoffed.

The girl hit his shoulder. She smiled and turned to you. She held out her hand, waiting for you to take it. You looked up at her in awe. She was warm. You took her hand and stood up. She looked at you with kind eyes and looked at Jean.

“Hey, wait, I recognize the little shit” the old man said.

“Y-you do,” you asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, if that’s true, why don’t you carry him for this young cutie, Oluo?”

Oluo rolled his eyes and proceeded to lift the boy. Oluo had better things to do, but one tiny detour wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. At least, the young woman said.

“Wait, where are you taking him?”

“Home,” Oluo spat.

“Oluo, you don’t have to sound so rude you know?”

“Yeah yeah.”

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves,” the young girl said, “My name’s Petra, and this is my squad mate Oluo. We’re scouts.”

“Scout? So does that mean you’ve seen Titans too?”

Everything got quiet. You looked down at your shadow. Your feet following the shadows of the others.

“I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine. Yes, we’ve seen them. We’ve killed them as a matter of fact.”

You lifted your head back up in curiosity. Could humans really rise above and kill the monsters that lurked just beyond the wall? Could we really somehow eradicate all of them?

“Y/n, stop tickling me,” Jean mumbled.

Your soft giggle brought a smile upon Petra and Oluo’s face. Oluo scowled as soon as Petra pointed it out. Their laugh, their smile, the way they interacted with each other reminded you of your parents. Of course these two had been younger.

“Kid,” Oluo sighed, “Do you wanna be a scout?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because, you’ve got the look of someone that’s been through some deep shit. And we need more people.”

You’d never even thought of being in the military. All you ever had thought of was being a doctor. You wanted to be someone that could save and heal people. You wanted to be like Dr. Jaeger. You had admired him for a while.

-flashback-

“Doctor Jaeger!!!”

Grisha Jaeger looked up to see a man holding a young child in his arms. His eyes were red and his voice sounded shaky. The doctor stood up and rushed to the door, opening it to see a sickly child. They were shivering, sweat soaked the poor things clothing. Their silent wails startled the man.

“Come in, put her on the table,” he commanded.

Your father placed you on the mattress. It had a metal frame that had started rusting. The clinic smelled like death. There were men with new bandages on their heads. They had just come back from a mission outside the walls. Needless to say, many of them weren’t going to make it. However, Dr. Jaeger still took care of them. They were alone. Their families had long since passed on, and all of their friends were dead.

“Mr. y/f/l/n, I’ll need you to step out, I don’t need you to get sick too. You were lucky, this was my last bed,” the doctor walked to your bed, a tray of needles and other materials in his hand, “I’m gonna do my best to make sure you get all better, okay?”

You nodded, then looked at your father. He kissed your forehead, and said goodbye. His tears dropped off of his chin onto your forehead. You wished he could stay with you, hold your hand, and wipe your tears. Alas, you knew that could not happen.

“Okay, kiddo, show me where it hurts.”

You pointed to your head and ears. You had been hurting for several days, but in fear of causing your parents to close down the bakery, you held it inside. You held in the pain until you collapsed.

“Have you felt cold?”

You nodded.

“Okay. I need you to keep this on your forehead, while I look inside your ears.”

-four hours later-

“Hey, kid,” a man whispered, “How old are you?”

“I’m 8.”

The man looked down at a picture he was holding. The picture was falling apart. It had singed corners and it looked as though it was ripped in half.

“I have a son your age.”

“What’s his name?”

“His name is Marco. He’s got the biggest hazel colored eyes. He’s got kisses from the sun all over his face. That boy is the sweetest...brightest...and most warm smile I’ve ever seen.”

The man had been brought back from behind the walls. His legs had been crushed from being grabbed by a Titan. The damage was permanent, and the internal bleeding from the incident would eventually kill him.

“Do you know what you wanna be when you grow up?”

You had never really thought about it yet. You’d assumed you’d stay in your parents bakery forever. It was the only thing you’d ever known.

“No.” You looked down at your hands.

“Well, promise me, you won’t join the military,” he turned to you,” The only thing you’ll ever experience is death. Finish school, get married, and raise a family. Live.”

You didn’t respond. You could not understand what the man had been trying to say. I mean how could you? You’re only 8 years old. A future like that wasn’t really on your mind. Death wasn’t on your mind, it was the last thing on your mind.

“Okay y/n l/n, it’s time for another dose.”

-one day later-

The sound of raindrops violently beating on the window greeted you from your rest. It was the first time in a while that you had gotten a full night's sleep. You rubbed your eyes until the crust had fallen off. You turned to the bed of the man you had talked to. Dr. Jaeger was standing over it. His hands were intertwined with each other. The dead flowers in the vase on the sill had been replaced with new ones.

That’s when you knew. That’s when you knew you wanted to be a doctor.

-flash back is now over because I suck at transitioning-

“Look, you don’t have to be one now. But you should think about it when you’re of age,” he said.

Oluo stopped in front of a two story house. It looked well kept and had a sign on it that read Kierstein.

“Looks like we’re here.”

Oluo put Jean on the floor. He had been sleeping like a baby, you almost didn’t want to wake him up. He looked peaceful, until a snot bubble appeared. The sound of it popping jolted Jean awake.

“NO MOM DON’T LOOK AT MY SKETCHBOOK,” he yelled.

You had let out an obnoxious snort. Jean furrowed his eyebrows and turned his head. He wrapped his arms across his chest, huffing and puffing like a baby.

Oluo and Petra eventually had to leave. You watched them walk away, leaving you and Jean alone on the doorsteps. The laughter subsided.

“You know, making fun of people is rude,” Jean scolded, “Where are we anyways?”

“Jeanie, my sweetheart.”

A voluptuous woman with kind, green eyes, burts out the door, wrapping the boy in her arms.

“Where have you been, my boy?!!!”

That must be- wait, I recognize her. But where? Where do I know this woman from?

“Mom, please stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

Jean’s mom put him down with a pouty face. She’d only missed her son everyday. She didn’t know where he was going, or what he was doing.

“I’m sorry, I was just worried-,” she turned, spotting your figure in the corner of her eye, “Jean, you didn’t tell me you had yourself a little cutie.”

Jean turned to hide his tomato red face. “They’re just my friend.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends, but I’m glad you found one.”

“M-mom,” you stumbled back.

That’s when it hit you. The day of the attack, a woman had visited your mom's bakery before it happened. It hadn’t crossed your mind, you thought she’d have died. It didn’t make sense to you, but when does fate ever make sense?

“Oh, you poor thing, you’re that child of y/m/f/n, from Shiganshina. Why don’t you come inside with us?”

Synopsis: You didn’t realize how in love you were with Jean Kirschtein until he decided to join the Survey Corp.

Taglist: n/a

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Chapter 4

playlist

[hazbincalifornia]

Soiled Tea

Chapter 23: Blitzo gets home and contemplates things.

Warnings: As always, mpreg, and brief mentions of underage drinking. Generally shitty thoughts about babies.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Blitz.” There was a pounding on his door, and it took a few seconds to process that it was Loona. “You’ve been in there for like three hours. The fuck happened?”

“Piss off!” Blitzo called back, scrolling mindlessly down Voxtagram with only a pause to scrub at his sore eyes. The phone buzzed with another text from Stolas, and he swiped it up without looking like the last twelve. A growl rumbled from behind at the door, and the scratch of Loona’s claws dragged down the wood.

“Fine, don’t tell me! It’s not like I care either way, I just want to know if you’re going to start bitching at me over whatever it is!” Loona’s weight creaked the floorboards as she padded away from the door, mere moments before Blitzo’s stomach growled.

Oh. Right. He hadn’t eaten properly in days, and the little fucker was going to be feeling that.

...It’d be easier to starve the bastard if it wouldn’t hurt him too. He only realized that his fingers had dug into his stomach when the red glow fluttered in and out, and his teeth gritted as he pushed himself off the bed, the creak reminding him how badly he needed a new mattress and frame. Stolas sleeping on it the other day couldn’t have helped, and it was going to collapse under him one of these days. There was probably some kind of metaphor in there he didn’t feel like puzzling through at the moment.

Moping later. Food now. He was pretty sure they’d stocked up a few days ago, so unless Loona had eaten everything since he’d been out, he could make some cup noodles and curl back up on the bed in peace. Loona was draped over the couch with screams and gorey splatters echoing from the TV when he exited his room, and she raised an eyebrow at seeing him mere moments after he’d told her to piss off. Blitzo sighed.

“Look, I just want to bury my sorrow in some cheap-ass junk right now, got it?”

She pointed to the freezer. “Try the strawberry scoop.”

“Thanks, dear.” First he needed to get the noodles, though. Blitzo opened the cabinet, reaching for the cups before brushing against a small bag. Why did he have a bag in the…?

His fingers froze, touching the edge of the packet- it was Stolas’s tea from their café meeting, tied with a pretty little bow. He’d mostly been over the nausea hump by the time he’d gotten it so it had been stuffed in the back of the cabinet, and right now, it was leaned against a partially-opened hot chocolate packet that must have been years old. It made the wood smell both moldy and chocolatey-fresh. Over the last few weeks, the powder had seeped into the mix of the tea- and probably ruined it too. There was an ant curled up in front of the fancy little bag which was almost certainly dead, flat on its back with legs curled heavenward.

The thing was moving again, but when he smacked the side of his stomach, it turned over a little with a shudder and stopped. Progress.

His hands were shaking by the time he pulled the noodles out from next to the tea (and next to the hot chocolate, and some expired crackers, and the little baggie of rat poison he’d borrowed from Millie and Moxxie’s closet) and began boiling the water to prepare them the same way he’d done hundreds of times before. No thinking required. The TV droned on in the living room, but the volume was low and he could still hear the water dripping from the leak over the fridge and his own heartbeat.

Casually, he leaned back against the countertop as he waited for the water to soak in, then realized that angle made the bump stick out even more, and also that he’d never actually taken off Stolas’s shirt. The knot in the back was thick and hard on his back, and it pressed on his protruding vertebrae against the granite. He tapped the end of his tail next to a stray protein bar wrapper on the countertop before sweeping it towards the trash. It missed, fluttering down to the dirty floor like a dying moth. Blitzo scooped up the cup, stabbing the top with a fork before bringing it back to his room and turning on a video of some idiot screaming at video games to drown out whatever thoughts couldn't be suppressed otherwise.

Loona didn’t bother him for the rest of the night, but he could hear her slam the fridge’s door shut and pop open a can of something around ten. He peeled off the shirt and went to bed.

__________________

An hour after going to bed, he realized that the sex-sweat stuck to his skin was itchy, sticky, and smelled like shit. He managed to last approximately fifteen more minutes before dragging himself off the bed and crawling into the shower, flipping on the water and twisting it to scalding. He didn’t bother to scrub anything down, simply letting the pounding water pelt into his body until the caked sweat slid off like a bug shedding its skin.

Loona was still in the living room, playing some kind of racing game. They made eye contact for a few seconds and she sighed, chucking him a chocolate bar that she’d fished out of the cushions at some point during the night when he’d been in his room.

Sure, she couldn’t actually eat it herself anyway, but the gesture was nice, even though his teeth felt kind of fuzzy when he flopped back on the bed again after pulling on a worn-out band tee that had become a crop top at some point even before the pregnancy. 

__________________

The kid was moving. Of course they were. It wasn’t like he could ask for sleep or for them to allow him to pretend they didn’t exist for a few hours, could he? They were just a lump of stupid meat, they didn't know any better than being an annoying pest that their daddy couldn't stand. He screamed into the pillow again. It didn’t help.

__________________

Maybe he could join the circus again. He had new, better jokes now. Like his life. (That one would have gotten a laugh, or at least it would have with a crowd that wasn’t drunk off its ass- or maybe that would have been the exact audience for it. Kids were never drunk enough, and the ones whose parents shoved bottles at them to get them to shut up just puked everywhere. Their taste buds weren't developed enough yet, it just tasted like piss half the time before you got used to it. He still remembered the smell of the cheesy chips incident.)

__________________

Had Stolas planned this all along? He’d sure as fuck seemed to think that Blitzo had already known what the deal was, and maybe he’d wondered a little, but come on, the guy had been so excited, anybody would have figured that he wanted to be the one to raise it. Babies were (literally) shitty little leeches on the lives of whoever was unlucky enough to pop them out, but Stolas had been so pumped for another kid, obviously he’d wanted to raise it. This was entirely his fault. This was entirely his fault. Blitzo was a smart guy, he'd find some way to get out of this. He'd made it this far, hadn't he?

__________________

Could he get out of this? He tried to remember exactly how the deal had been phrased, but then realized that Stolas would probably yank the book back if he did manage to find some way to kill the thing without offing himself. Well, shit. That’d suck, and he’d probably lose Moxxie and Millie in the bargain, and then him and Loona would get chucked out on the concrete and have to forage for scraps until they managed to mug some particularly wealthy sinner. Could you pass on syphilis through bites? Loonie’d probably know. It was something to keep in mind as a potential threat.

__________________

Did orphanages do speed dial? No, Stolas would find it somehow. He probably had some kind of magic tracking device for occasions like this.

__________________

God damn he needed a better mattress. He could still feel the indent where Stolas had been if he rolled over just right, and he smacked at it until it felt like the rest of the bed.

It didn’t actually help that much, but at least when one spot got hot, he could roll over a little to the cooler half without sinking in.

__________________

What would it even look like? Would it be kind of cute or some mutant monstrosity? Both its dads were hot, so it would have to have something going for it if it wasn’t just some horrible moaning mess of feathers and patchy skin.

He hadn’t really minded the thought of being, like, an uncle or some shit. There for the fun parts, popping in like twice a month to jingle keys above its face and teach it to play paintball. If Barbie had squeezed something out after fucking around when they were still a duo act he could have dealt with that as long as they didn’t have to sleep in the same room- he didn’t really mind kids that much in small doses. They could be fun little chaotic monsters, even though they were judgmental as shit and smelled fear.

With this, though, he couldn’t just hand it back when he got bored, and he always, always got bored or scared or- fuck, not thinking about that.

He would try scrolling Voxtagram again, but he came across an ad for maternity wear before trying to go to sleep the first time and nearly chucked the phone. 

__________________

The only thing that kept him from rolling off the bed and grabbing a hard drink to knock him out, baby be damned, was the fact that he’d found a spot that almost was comfortable in the sheets now soaked with sweat again. Unfortunately, the clock said it was 5:13 AM.

__________________

The alarm blared directly in Blitzo’s ear and he whapped it with a pillow, slamming it off the bedside table and into the floor. It was definitely broken now from the horrid cracking noise, and he groaned, scrubbing at his eyes. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck."

“Morning, sleeping ugly,” Loona said as she gargled mouthwash in the sink. She had the bags under her eyes that probably matched his and said she’d been drinking more than usual last night. Smart kid. He’d picked one that he could be a parent to without changing diapers for a reason- so he could be supportive to an actual person and not just a screaming little meat-lump that couldn’t even drink or smoke yet. Maybe Stolas could make it magically grow up so he wouldn't have to deal with that shit? “You gonna finally tell me what the fuck happened? You look like you watched the apartment blow up and you smell even worse.”

“Come on, honey, I showered-” Blitzo cleared his throat. To be fair, sex-stink didn't come off that easily when you were going at it for days, and Loona had always had a real sensitive nose. “Daddy’s maaaaaybe got a little tiny problem,” he muttered, and she raised an eyebrow.

“And that problem is? Usually, you’ll be upfront about why you’re being a whiny-“

“Apparently,” he started, and his tone made Loona’s mouth snap shut, “Stolas thought I was going to be the one actually raising the little bastard.”

“What the fuck? You two didn’t clear this up months ago?” Her claws dug into the counter as one eye twitched, and a bit of mouthwash foam dripped off her chin.

“I didn’t think we’d have to! He wanted the thing, he’d take it, that made sense!” He dragged a hand down his face, and Loona leaned back against the sink, crossing her arms. The foam hit her top, soaking in next to the left tit.

“So get rid of it.”

“I can’t, he enchanted my guts.” Blitzo snatched a butter knife smeared with long-dried jam off the table and aimed it at his stomach- moments before it touched the skin, red flashed. His hand shot to the side, preventing anymore more than a slight scratch. “I don’t even want to know what’d happen if I tried to take a pill or something and puked it up. Explode, probably.”

Loona sighed. “Well, this is fuckin’ peachy.” She crossed the kitchen, grabbing some toast that popped up, pressing more down and dropping the plain bread with a pad of butter on the side on a plate in front of him. “Toss it at an orphanage.”

“It’s gonna be a freak, it’d probably just get mauled. Imp kids are vicious, especially orphans, they’ve all gotta fight for table scraps.”

“Why would you care?” Loona shifted a little on her seat. “You get rid of it either way.”

“Stolas’d kill me.”

“He likes your dick too much, he wouldn’t. I’m not changing diapers. Why can’t he take it again?”

“He thought his wife would shank the fucker. Considering she tried to stab me, it’s probably not that far off. I’ll find some way to-” he yawned. “To pawn it off or something. Maybe we find somebody that likes exotic pets.” His head swam with visions of a shiny, gilded cage containing a little feathered imp that wore sequins and hissed at anything that got too close. He stabbed at the butter. “I don’t want this either, alright?”

“But you went along with having it anyway, and with me, you wanted-” She cut herself off and drummed her fingers against her bicep. “This is your fuck-up, I’m just saying don’t drag me into it.”

“Very reassuring, thank you,” Blitzo muttered, sarcasm thick enough to gore like it was a pig. "We have any coffee?"

"I finished it the other night. We can go to that place on Sixth before work." Loona snatched her own toast as it popped up too quickly to actually have toasted any and stuffed it in her mouth plain, tearing off a bite and chewing in a way that was reminiscent of thoughtful. “I don’t think he’d be nice enough to let you die when it pops out, and you screw up all the time and haven’t completely ruined your life yet. You can figure shit out from there. Maybe we can sell them on the black market and move out of this fucking dump, or you can flutter your eyelashes and get him to change his mind. Worst comes to worst, it's sharing your room.”

“Thanks, Loonie,” Blitzo mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “Always know how to cheer me up.”

The phone buzzed, and he was about to ignore it again until he saw that it was from Millie.

“Still at Stolas’s or coming in to work today Blitz? Moxx and I miss you :)’

Blitzo wiped crumbs on his pants and groaned before typing back.

‘yeh im coimin back’

He added extra jam to the bread before shoving the rest in his mouth, and the kid kicked his bladder hard enough that he almost pissed himself right at the table.

Today was gonna be fuckin’ peachy.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes : Reloaded

They're on a mission, chasing a lead in hopes of locating where The Shadow Company is situated.

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Vlad the Janitor

Chapter 20 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

forgive the piccrew

Undying Admiration

Francine "France" Winters

Safe house 110197, Brazil

"Look at them two, you think we could do that too?" Soap asked France. They were both seated on Soap's side of the floor, the soft foam caught their asses as they crossed their legs while Soap spun around a water bottle.

"You and me? Sing and Dance? Never in a million years!" She denied looking at the poor guy's attempt to actually get her to like him. She thinks he already knew that she's already falling for him since day one. But she wanted to focus on other things at hand rather than distract herself with romance. Maybe if this was all over and he's still there, he'll finally get the answer he's looking for.

"Why not? I'm kinda okay with singing." He grinned. Francine giggled. Sure he is, his overconfidence was getting attractive for her. If they weren't soldiers in a war, they'd probably be making out again. What happened back at the Gulag was an impulse, she never saw it coming as she almost lost hope for his absence.

"Why don't you like… sing for me?" She dared her eyes stared intensely into Soap's eye-catching baby blue orbs. She made a mental note that staring for more than five seconds in those were already dangerous, so she always breaks it before the fifth.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, his voice was giving her ears a good time. Yes. She's falling for him. It felt like everything he does is attractive, but she shouldn't be too quick, life has taught her that the faster she falls in love, the faster they leave. So she had to test the guy's patience.

"Do what?" she asked as if she didn't know what he meant.

"Look me in the eyes then immediately break it as soon as I stare long enough…" His eyes squinted towards her as she evaded eye contact.

"I don't do that." She easily shrugged it off and got up.

"Well, good night. John. We have an early mission tomorrow." She got up as Soap trailed his eyes on her, the look of admiration was painted all across his face.

"Can you not look at me like that?!" She pleaded as her cheeks blushed. Her boyish appeal on the force always repelled attention and now this guy was admiring her for who she is and she felt happy.

"I won't do it if I get a good night's kiss." he pouted his wonderful lips. Lips she actually really wanted to taste again.

"Good Night John." She said as she closed the men's bedroom door and went to her bed.

~

When Price told her about a small recon mission, she never knew it was this small. The team only consisted of her and Ghost riding a rental truck to a village which was a few kilometers away from their safe house. The point person was an alleged nephew of a soldier that currently works for Shepherd. It was almost a dead lead but the intel being accessible enough was sort of worth it.

Rule of engagement is "Don't".

The village would most likely be unarmed, unprotected and peaceful. But Price advised to keep a side arm in case things go awry. It was a good call, and France noted to herself that she won't ever fire a shot for this mission as to not raise any sort of attention in addition to what Shepherd already gave them.

"Looks like it's time to go." Soap muttered as Ghost passed through them looking prepared.

Soap nodded goodbye to the man but he just continued walking.

"Maybe he had earphones on." he muttered as he pouted his lips. France softly reached for his cheek and shoved it sideways.

"In your dreams." She laughed as she waved goodbye.

"Every night." He winked as France made an almost disgusted face and followed Ghost. She was lucky enough that she quickly moved that Soap won't see her blushing cheeks.

France hoisted herself on the shotgun of the car and smiled at her partner, who looked serious. Without his mask, he was your average tough british soldier, and he looked like he wasn't in for some small talk while driving. France respected his privacy and trailed her eyes elsewhere, looking at the lush greenery and muddy tracks of tropical Brazil.

France wasn't a fan of quiet road trips, she tried humming to tunes from her playlist as the loud revving of the rental jeep overpowered her voice.

"Are you usually this quiet?" France asked, trying to break the silence between them.

"Yeah. You got a problem with that?" He replied, his eyes trailed on the road as it hit a bump. France actually felt shocked toward his reply and she started to worry about what she did wrong.

"You know you could always say no to Price's orders instead of regretting and wishing Roach would be here instead of me." She pouted, crossing her arms.

"Well that wasn't my case but now that you said it, maybe I should've asked for Roach instead!" He yelled. France couldn't help but shed a tear. She actually had no idea towards his hostility and the thought of not knowing any reason made her mad.

"Wow. Okay." she squirmed and unbuckled her seatbelt causing Ghost to slow down his driving.

"Where are you going? The village is still far from here!" he asked, France never bothered to talk to him as she simply walked away from the path.

Ghost immediately left the vehicle and followed her, catching her so she won't escape and run away.

"Why are you not replying?!" He asked, gripping her hands, restricting her movement. France used her strength to break free of his slightly weak grip and turned to him.

"You see now how it feels? To ignore someone without knowing why?!" She raised her voice. This seemed to make sense to Simon as he actually looked like he's sorry.

"I… " he sighed and looked at her, his eyes were lost and sad.

"I can't talk to you anymore… because I like you… but you've already set your eyes on someone else… so I just had to ignore you hoping that it'll make it less painful." he muttered. Complete silence filled the air.

France didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say. It may be true that she already had eyes on a certain Scottish cutie, but telling him the truth all over again would leave such mental scars.

It took her long enough to say something that Ghost already invited her back to the car, and her silence may leave no meaning, but to Ghost it meant a lot, at least he knew that he no longer had a chance on her and would finally move on.

The village was like any other typical village, the elder's house would always be on the highest point and the two opted to ask the village elder first to gather clues.

One clue led to another as they visited each house looking for one Fabian Alvarez, a nephew of an alleged Shadow Company soldier. Only a few were able to speak fluent english and they decided to help, until such time that Fabian decided to show up.

He looked like a five year old kid, holding a rubber ball and he looked at France and Ghost awkwardly before hiding back into his house. Fabian was far too young to know about his uncle's whereabouts and the lead went cold once again.

The ride home was quiet. France didn't want to say anything as she can't. Her heart was like inside a washing machine, swirling around as she thought of how Ghost liked her while she's clearly liking someone else. It must've been hella awkward and painful to see on a daily basis. She felt that once, when her best friend got together with her high school crush and continued to stay together up to this day… She knew how he felt.

~

The moment they got back, she was actually greeted by Soap, who already had his hands wide open for a hug. As usual, France would ignore his gesture and it now felt that she was already helping out Ghost from the pain. But now, she's the one feeling restricted.

It pained her to not get near Soap and he's already starting to notice the indifference. She was actually surprised when he cornered her, just as soon as she stepped out of the shower.

Her cheeks flushed as the idea of her, only wrapped with a towel, stood in front of Soap. She felt really vulnerable in this position.

"What happened out there?" he looked angry but the tone of his voice sounded concerned.

"Nothing, it's just … A dead lead. A waste of time." She replied as she attempted to cross over him.

"And how does that warrant an indifferent approach toward me?" he quickly moved to block her again. She sighed at her actions. He was right. He didn't deserve this treatment, he needed to learn something about the truth.

"We had a little fight with your friend over there…" She muttered, her voice was low enough so he couldn't hear.

"Who, Ghost?" he inched his face closer and his face lit up like a curious bystander who overhears conversations on a daily basis.

"Yeah… It was an unpleasant exchange." She said vaguely.

"Well, it'll all be resolved soon. I guess you're too carried away that you didn't want to talk to me as well…" he chuckled and scratched the back of his head. That gesture always made France happy, he may not notice it but she loves the way his muscles twitch when he scratches his nape. She found it satisfying and hot.

"Yeah… I'll go change." She said, as she frowned as soon as they parted. She knew she had to tell him the specific reason and the events that occured today, but she felt that it would create a domino effect that would lead the team to be uncooperative.

During bedtime, Alex requested France to swap sleeping spaces, meaning that she had to lie down beside Soap. She couldn't find the courage to say no as it might ruin the reunion they both longed for after a very long time.

France swung the door open and found out that they were already asleep, except for Ghost who was once again missing. She used this opportunity to actually wake Soap up and let him be aware that she'll be sleeping beside him. She planned to make both men comfortable by spacing herself between them, by only showing affection to Soap while Ghost's not around, until such time that Ghost would accept the inevitable truth.

"John." She whispered, as Soap lazily opened his eyes and reached out for her, wrapping her in his arms.

"I really like you. A lot. I hope you'll be patient enough for me." She whispered again. She knew he wouldn't hear it but the idea of her actually expressing her thoughts to him, put her at ease, as she slowly closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, wrapped by the arms of the man whom she really admired.

Next Chapter : If I Remember Correctly

Notification Squad my Beloved

@ricinbach @whimsywispsblog @smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee

[raleighcarrera]

jinx

the wayhaven chronicles | mason x mc (kira langford)

mason and the detective go home together after the carnival. set immediately following the end of book 2.

(this is @choicesarehard and @raleighcarrera‘s fault)

~4.1k words | E (18+)

“well... it’s getting late.” he’s doing his best not to look at her too obviously as the detective yawns and stretches, but the way her body moves under the moonlight and the soft strip of skin that appears for him to ogle when her shirt rides up makes it pretty much impossible.

against his will, his mind is drawn back to what they’d done in that dark corner of the haunted house, just about thirty minutes ago. mason’s tongue drags along his bottom lip, as though still tasting her, somehow. he wonders if the mark he’d left on the back of her neck while he fucked her from behind has darkened into a bruise yet. 

he twists, scowling as soon as he catches sight of the way felix is grinning at him. the obnoxious expression on his face lets him know that he’s been more obvious than he might’ve hoped for.

“what?” he demands, dropping his voice so kira won’t hear him. she’s talking to nate, anyway, smiling at something he’s said. her eyes crinkle at the corners. mason averts his gaze. 

“oh, nothing.” felix’s smile is a mile wide. “just wondering what had you two caught up for so long.”

mason rolls his eyes. before he can bite out his retort, kira turns away from nate, seemingly addressing them all. “i’ll see you guys soon?”

their eyes find each other’s. he says nothing, simply holding her gaze. that ever-present electricity seems to crackle in the space between them. even though she’s talking to everyone, she’s looking at him. 

“of course,” adam answers brusquely, though his voice sounds far away. reluctantly, mason directs his eyes to him. adam’s already looking at him, something forceful on his expression. he’s seen that look before.

“i’ll walk you to your car,” mason offers, turning and heading toward the parking lot without waiting for her. he smirks into the darkness as her shoes hit the concrete a little faster, the detective obviously rushing to catch up. 

“you know,” she says, as soon as she’s at his side again, “you’re not a very effective body guard if you run off and leave me behind.”

his grin sharpens at its edges. “trust me, this isn’t my preferred method of guarding your body.”

she laughs, and he’s surprised to find that he’s grown to enjoy the way he never knows how she’s going to react to one of his overt flirtations. sometimes she gives as good as she gets, and sometimes she answers so sincerely it makes him uncomfortable, but no matter what she says or does, she always surprises him.

they reach her car in companionable silence, more quickly than he’d like. she slows to a stop in front of the driver’s side door. his eyes zero in on her face, and kira stares back evenly, as though she feels as drawn in as he does.

“you know,” she offers, her voice level, “you could come home with me.”

he stalls momentarily, though his recovery is swift, his answering grin all teeth. “yeah? you afraid of the dark?”

her shoulders roll with a shrug. again, he’s stuck by the way her body moves. “maybe i just want some more time with you.”

mason barks out a laugh to distract from the unwelcome and unfamiliar feeling that courses through him. it’s almost something like fondness -- maybe something he felt once or twice before, a long time ago. “i’m flattered, sweetheart. but i’m not exactly a sleepover kind of guy.”

she blinks. purses her pretty lips. then opens the car door and ducks quickly into the front seat, but not so quickly that he misses the disappointment that flashes over her features. the detective shrugs, then simply says, “okay. i’ll see you around, then.”

before he’s fully aware of what he’s doing, his hand shoots out and grabs the door, stopping her from closing it. he leans in closer. “that wasn’t a ‘no.’”

the detective’s eyebrows lift. “it sure sounded like one.”

he shakes his head at her, his gaze heated where he’s still staring into her eyes. “just making myself clear.”

kira sighs at him, exasperated in a way that’s almost a little bit cute. “i think i’ve got it by now. get in.”

he tsks playfully at her as he moves away so she can shut the door, wandering over to the other side of the car. “bossy.”

“someone has to keep you in line,” she smirks, though the effect of it is dampened as the car’s engine turns over three or four times before finally starting.

he should probably let someone know where he’s going. the right thing to do would be to text adam, but as he pulls out his phone, mason finds he just can’t resist the urge to push nate’s buttons.

seeing the detective home safely :-) he writes, smiley-nose and all. don’t wait up

nate’s reply is almost instantaneous. you’re repulsive

he grins to himself as he pockets his phone, staring out the window as the empty streets of wayhaven pass by. the comfortable quiet that fills the car has him feeling bizarrely at peace, again, and though the windows are open his senses aren’t affronted by every random smell and sound they speed by. instead, he finds his focus is on the detective’s steady heartbeat and the hushed, almost imperceptible sound of her breathing, though he’s trying to ignore why that is. he’d really hate to ruin even a moment of this with introspection.

the walk up to her apartment is familiar, though mason can’t help but to take it all in with a critical eye, sharpening his hearing for any potential threats that might be waiting for them.

he’d prefer not to have any interruptions for what he’s planning to do to her.

his gaze snaps back to kira as she steps inside and heads off toward her bedroom, already stripping off her jacket and peeling her shirt up and over her head. mason grins as he pushes the front door shut behind him, flipping the lock. “eager, are we?”

he toes off his boots and follows her. “mmm,” she hums, sounding unimpressed, “i’m going to take a shower.”

mason blinks, his eyes trained on her hips where she’s shimmying her jeans down. the lacy black underwear he’d had bunched under his fingers just an hour before recaptures his attention all over again. “a shower?”

“uh huh,” she confirms, kicking her jeans away when they fall to the floor, “i let some guy fuck me at the carnival in the haunted house and it was honestly kind of gross --”

his laughter cuts her off, and when she sends a grin his way he can’t resist reaching out and shoving her shoulder. “fine. we’ll shower.”

her arms fold under her chest, below her bra. “i don’t recall inviting you.”

mason steps closer, staring her down. from the distance between them -- which isn’t much -- their size difference is pronounced, and he smirks at the way she has to crane her neck to be able to meet his eyes. “so you don’t want me to shower with you?”

her tongue darts out to lick her lips. his eyes follow the movement, settling on the corners of her mouth when they twitch upwards. “i didn’t say that.”

he reaches behind his neck for the collar of his t-shirt and pulls it up and over his head. the way her eyes slide over his newly bare skin and linger along the contours of his muscles makes him feel an undeniable spike of pride. 

plenty of people he’s been with have looked at him like that. her reaction isn’t foreign to him, but the way it makes him feel in return certainly is. it’s unsettling and more than mildly annoying to realize that he cares -- maybe, a little bit -- about what she thinks when she looks at him.

the detective reaches down to unbutton his jeans. mason feels his breath catch as she deliberately lowers the zipper and pushes them down his hips. 

there’s something he’s been wanting to do to her since he first really let himself look her way -- since he started thinking of her as more than just an annoyance. 

not that she wasn’t, still, but she was undeniably more than that, now.

mason grips her thighs and lifts her easily into his arms, grinning at the way kira’s legs immediately fold around his bare waist. he starts shuffling them back toward her bathroom, kicking out of his jeans as they go.

“smooth,” kira smirks, running her hands down his bare chest. she almost sounds impressed.

his hands slide around to grab her ass. “if you liked that, wait ‘til you see what else i can do.” 

she matches the grin on his face and then leans down to kiss him passionately, and he exhales a ragged breath against her lips as his elbow hits the light switch for her bathroom, illuminating the space. without breaking their kiss, he sets her down on the counter, pressing his mouth forcefully against hers.

“so,” he pants against her mouth, pulling away to give his focus to unhooking her bra, “this guy you fucked in the haunted house. was he good looking?”

“well...” they’re close enough that he can feel the way her lips twist into a smile. “it was pretty dark in there.”

mason huffs out a laugh, peeling his body away from hers. kira’s bra falls to the floor, and he pushes a hand through his hair as he looks down at her, getting a better look at her body than he ever has under the bright lights of her bathroom, his eyes lingering first on her bare chest and then on her face.

she’s undeniably gorgeous. but she knows that, judging by the way she’s kicking her legs back and forth against the counter, smiling cheekily at him. he reaches behind himself to turn on her shower, holding his hand under the spray.

“you’d better come check the temperature,” he warns, letting his eyes slowly travel the length of her body again as kira hops off the counter and steps closer, shedding her underwear as she does so. “i like it hot.”

kira wraps her arm around his waist for balance, pressing in along his side. her proximity has his eyes going half-lidded, especially when she rubs deliberately against him as she leans in to hold her own hand under the running shower. 

her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she looks over her shoulder at him. “it’s nothing i can’t handle.”

out of everything she says and does, that’s what makes his cock twitch. 

but then again, he’s been battling the urge to handle her all fucking night. kicking his own boxers off, he crowds her into the shower, plastering his chest along her back and tripping over her feet in his haste to get them both behind the curtain, which she tugs closed with her arm twisted around over his shoulder.

mason sighs as his hips press forward against her bare skin, the warmth of her softening the pinprick each drop of water beats sharply against him. his arms move from around her to press his palms against the wall behind her head, and he cages her body in as steam starts to fill up the bathroom. 

the detective turns in his arms and looks up at him, holding his gaze as her back arches to bring their bodies closer. he hears himself hiss from between his teeth when their skin makes contact, and lets one hand move to push her long hair out of the way, trailing his fingers down her back. 

her red lips part with a breathless exhale. “mason.”

his hips jerk forward, rutting insistently against hers. the pretty gasp of surprise she gives him makes it hard to regret his forcefulness.

his other hand moves slowly down to her leg, where he drags his palm against the smooth skin of her thigh and then lifts, hitching it around his waist. the detective leans into the movement as he positions her, easily pressing in as close to him as she can.

they’d been face-to-face the first time they’d done this, but it’d felt markedly less... intimate, then. maybe the rest of the team was right. maybe he had gotten in too deep.

it’s hard to worry about that now, though, with the way she’s rubbing against him. kira seems intent on drawing him inside of her all on her own, and his grip on her tightens as he recalls the way she’d taken every inch of him earlier that evening, wailing the haunted house’s walls down like she was an actor hired by the carnival. 

mason smirks at her, reaching down to help her along. the way she moans when he first presses his cock in has him gritting his teeth hard enough to crack them.

she’s remarkably tight, given he was just inside her, the way she’s squeezing him making him pant where he’s got their foreheads tipped together, staring into her eyes. she’s no less sexy than any of the other times they’ve done this, but it’s noticeably different, now -- almost reminiscent of that gentle, searching kiss she’d given him in his bedroom at the warehouse, when he was supposed to be recovering after their run-in with the trappers.

he forces his eyes away from hers, tucking his face in the crook of her neck. mason focuses on the water from the shower, beating against his back almost painfully as he drives into her, and not on the way she’s sighing so sweetly into his ear, continually murmuring his name.

“you like that, sweetheart?” his voice is a low growl over the sound of the shower, his grip on her leg tightening. she’s already shaking against him -- another point of pride of his -- and her moans start to reach a new volume when his other hand slips between their bodies to tease between her legs.

“oh, god,” she whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut tight. she’s clinging so tightly to his shoulders that he has to spare a pitying thought to the scratches that are doubtlessly already healing over, just as quickly as she can leave them. it might be kind of nice to keep proof of the way she’s clawing at him, now, so that he can have it with him the next time she ignores him, planning something with nate or arguing with adam, instead.

not that it bothers him, or anything. he just... notices, is all.

he doesn’t even want her to talk to him.

anyway -- that’s one of the things he’s always liked about fucking humans. he’s not exactly a man of repeat performances, but leaving behind marks is sort of his specialty, especially when someone can wear them as well as the detective does.

the little hickey he’d left behind her ear kept taunting him, all week long, anytime she moved just right and her hair failed to cover it.

now, he can’t quite resist latching his lips onto it again, where it’s starting to fade, and reworking the mark anew.

“open your eyes,” he commands into her ear, pulling his head back to look at her. his hand regretfully leaves her thigh to swipe his wet hair out of his face, though she tightens her leg around him and draws him in deeper with a heel at his back, punching a groan out of his chest. 

“mason,” she moans again, her breath hitching into a gasp halfway through. it’s maybe his favorite way anyone’s ever said his name. 

he swivels his hips, fucking into her a little harder. “jesus, you are stunning,” he mutters, his eyes on her face and the droplets of water running down her cheek, over her neck and down to her chest. 

it’s a lot more pleasant now than the last time he saw her soaked through with rain.

her hand lifts as his thumb finds her clit and rubs circles on it, and he looks up from where his lips had been about to descend onto her chest when she tenderly brushes his wet hair out of his eyes. the look in her eyes makes his movements falter for just a moment before he remembers himself and manages a smirk, rubbing her a little faster.

“oh, god,” she gasps again, “i -- i --”

“you what?” he taunts, pressing her back into the shower wall, “tell me.”

he knows she’s going to come. he can almost taste it, hanging heavy in the air between them -- but she doesn’t say so. instead, she rockets off against him with only a choked groan of his name, and that’s somehow better, the way she’s shaking apart in his arms enough to make his eyeteeth tingle meaningfully.

he’d never actually do it, of course -- probably not even if she wanted him to -- but the fantasy of biting her is shamefully what gets him there, and kira sighs sweetly when he comes inside of her, slumping into his arms.

her hazel eyes are unfocused when they land on him, dazed enough to make him smirk. mason lets himself enjoy the smell of her before the shower will doubtlessly wash it away, the ever-present warmth of ginger and lemon mixing with the mark he’d left behind. 

he helps her leg back down to the tile. “can you stand?”

“please,” she mumbles, still working to catch her breath, “your dick’s not that impressive.”

mason laughs as she straightens up. she does seem pretty steady on her feet. he’ll have to work a little harder next time.

“you know i can tell when you’re lying.” he leans back, looking her over. her long, dark hair is plastered to her back, and there’s a few red marks where he’d maybe been a little too demanding with her, sticking out like exclamation points against her otherwise unmarred skin. 

annoyingly, she’s even more gorgeous now than she had been before. 

“whatever.” the detective sighs, eyeing his chest. he has the strange feeling she wants to lean her face there, so he drops his arms from around her, shuffling his feet back.

“here,” he finds himself saying, as he notes the goosebumps breaking out across her arms. she must be cold. with a hand on her wrist, he pulls her around so she’s the one standing under the water.

“thanks.” mason stares as she tilts her head back under the stream, the water raining down on her chest. his cock makes a valiant effort to get hard again as she reaches her hands up and pushes them through her hair. 

then, she straightens, cracking her eyes open to peer suspiciously at him. “what’re you staring at?”

“i feel like you already know the answer to that, detective.” he drags his tongue across his teeth. 

“kira,” she reminds him, leaning around his body to grab her shampoo. she passes him the bottle once she’s taken some, and he watches her rub it into her hair for a moment before doing the same.

“you don’t like your nicknames?” the smell of the shampoo fills his senses all at once, predictably eclipsing all traces of her and the smell of her with him on her. 

“kira would be more than fine,” she says, though he suspects she likes the sweethearts a little more than she lets on.

they wash up quietly, until her matching body wash and conditioner have them both smelling more like oranges than an orange tree. she steps out of the shower first, dripping water onto the tile, and passes him a towel. 

mason tucks his around his waist, fighting back the urge to touch her once she’s covered, too. he usually avoids shit like this, but he finds he really wants to rub his palms over the curve of her body where the towel’s draped under her arms, until he knows what she feels like with damp terrycloth covering her, too. 

he rolls his eyes at himself, instead, flexing in her bathroom mirror. she gives a little laugh when she notices, but otherwise shuffles off toward her bedroom in silence.

he stands awkwardly in the doorway, looking at his scattered clothes. she’d been asleep the last time he’d done this, and now...

the detective isn’t looking at him, but there isn’t any way he can get back into his clothes and out of her apartment without her noticing. not that he’s doing much of anything, then, except watching her slip gracefully into her pajamas and brush out her hair until it falls over her shoulders, already starting to curl while it dries. 

she sits down on the edge of her bed and fixes him with a look. “you know, you could stay here tonight.”

even if he wanted to -- which he doesn’t -- it hardly seems wise. “the others are waiting for me.”

her head tilts to the side. “are they?”

it’s not like they don’t know. he’s pretty sure everyone knows -- even her mom. even her fucking coworkers. even that little idiot at the front desk who’d made a point to dress like him in the hopes of impressing her.

“i know what this is,” he grins suddenly, folding his arms across his bare chest, “you’re hoping for morning sex.”

this is where he’s most comfortable, and sometimes it seems like it’s the same for her, too. sometimes her remarks back are so biting -- so obvious, so impossible to resist -- that it leaves him speechless. 

kira sighs, and he knows instantly that now isn’t one of those times. as she looks away, he feels like he’s somehow disappointed her. “you caught me,” she says, and he can’t quite see her pupils in the low light of her bedroom but he doesn’t need to, anyway, to know that she’s lying. her left shoulder lifts in a half-shrug, slipping the strap of her pajama top down. “i’ll see you tomorrow or something.”

he blinks, looking down at where his jeans are crumpled near his feet, waiting for him to put them on. mason ducks back into the bathroom, first, to grab his boxers, and doesn’t think too much about anything else as he pulls them on.

kira’s staring at her phone while he looks for his shirt and then slips that on, too. she’s not even scrolling -- just holding the device in her hand, her gaze fixed resolutely on the screen.

he’s ignored a lot of little signs since they first met, even tonight -- pushed passing comments from the others out of his mind, tried not to think about the sincerity in her voice or the softness in her eyes or anything, really, other than what they could get up to alone together. but it’s pretty difficult to ignore her body language, now. 

as soon as he’s dressed, mason’s feet bring him to the edge of the bed before he can stop them. “hey.” she doesn’t look up until he clears his throat pointedly.

doing this was a lot less complicated when she’d been asleep. maybe he should’ve waited, again, so he wouldn’t have to see her look at him like that. was that how she’d looked when she woke up the next morning, after he’d left? he hoped not.

maybe he should kiss her goodbye. she never looked at him with anything other than a smile when he kissed her.

just as he makes up his mind and leans down, her hand shoots out, stopping him with a palm pressed gently but still firmly against his chest. he looks down at her hand in surprise. 

she seems to think better of whatever she’d been planning to say. “goodnight, mason,” is what comes out instead, with finality. 

he blinks, then nods at her, stepping away. kira returns his last look in a way that makes him feel a little strange before he turns and heads to the front door.

he takes the scenic route back to the warehouse, slowing his speed so he can chain smoke. it’s been awhile since he’s done that -- she’s always around, now, asking him to put them out. asking him to do something that’s not like him.

he’s really not interested in thinking too much about her, but the walk doesn’t clear his head like he’d hoped it would. unfortunately, the carnival teller’s fortune floats back to him, mixing messily with his already swirling thoughts. mason can’t hold back his growl of frustration; he’s given that stupid hack way too much of his brain space already.

one day you’ll trust her more than you trust yourself.

the expression on kira’s face comes back to him unbidden. he blinks, rubbing at his eyes. 

sure, he thinks sarcastically to himself as he stalks off to his bedroom, the warehouse blessedly quiet around him. the look she’d shot his way when he’d left won’t seem to fade from his mind. when?

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part two Word count: ±2250 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part two summary: After successfully wrapping up a werewolf case in Waco, Texas, the boys are on their way again. However, an unexpected phone call might just result in a change of course. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Waco, Texas      November 30th, 2005 - Present Day

     “Get your motor runnin’. Head out on the highway! Lookin’ for adventure, and whatever comes our way.”

     It’s early morning in sunny Texas as the black Chevrolet Impala shoots down Interstate 35, just outside the city of Waco. The temperatures are still cool at this hour, but the orange sun that’s rising in the East will change that within hours. It is exceptionally warm for this time of the year, even for this far south. 

     Dean has his window rolled down and joins Steppenwolf’s lead singer John Kay on the vocals. The hunt was pretty straight forward; after a day of traveling and three more to track the creature, the hunters were able to make the kill. He feels ten times better than he did five days ago, the night he got pulled out of the water without a pulse. But the rest, time and a high dose of antibiotics did him good. Deep breaths aren’t much trouble anymore and the cough is as good as gone. Even the sprint to tackle the werewolf didn’t set his lungs on fire. He’s off pain medication, slept horizontally for the first time in days, and is behind the wheel of his Baby; Dean feels good as new. His way of celebrating is by belting out every word of the legendary rock classic Born To Be Wild.

     “Yeah, Darlin’, go and make it happen. Take the world in a love embrace. Fire all of your guns at once and explode into space.”

     His brother, who is huddled in the corner of the door and the front seat, opens his eyes slightly and glares at his sibling through the drowsiness. He’s not sure what’s more surprising, Dean’s unbelievably good mood or the fact that he’s able to hit the notes.

     “Like a true nature’s child, we were born, born to be wild. We can climb so high, I never wanna die!” Dean sings as he drums on the wheel.  

     “Dude, I’m trying to sleep,” Sam complains. “Turn that shit down, will you?”      Dean looks aside, as if his brother just said something vile. Did he just call Steppenwolf shit? The oldest of the two shakes his head; I tried so hard to raise him right. 

     Instead of honoring Sam’s request, Dean lets go of the steering wheel and plays the solo on his air guitar. Startled, the passenger reaches to take control in order to keep the car steady, after which he eyes his brother. As he does, Dean turns the volume button clockwise and sings along again.      “Born to be wi-i-ild!” he cries out.      “Seriously?” The youngest of the two shoots a look of annoyance at the driver.      “Ah, c’mon, Sammy. Why can’t a guy have a little fun?” Dean replies.      “It’s Sam,” his brother reminds him. “And for one, because I barely slept last night, and secondly, because it’s seven thirty in the morning.”      “So? You’re usually the one who’s all chirpy at the crack of dawn. This way we have the whole day ahead, y’know. Make some use of it,” Dean quips.

     Sam lifts one eyebrow and observes the driver for a few seconds. Is this truly coming from his brother, who is anything but a morning person? Bullshit, he thinks to himself.      “That’s the best you could come up with?” he confronts.      Right at that moment, AC/DC’s Stiff Upper Lip starts playing on the radio channel and Dean can’t help but to shout out when he recognizes the introduction.      “Man, I love this song!”      Sam shakes his head. All that his brother is doing is avoiding the topic of conversation. “And Erin didn’t mind you leaving before the alarm?” 

     Dean looks aside, thinking of the gorgeous brunette he picked up at a bar last night during their celebratory drink. “Not sure, she was still asleep when I left,” he admits.      The younger Winchester scoffs. “That’s just mean.”      “It ain’t my style to hang around too long, you know that,” Dean reminds his brother, defending his actions.      “Why the hell are you in such a hurry? We don’t have a lead on Dad, we don’t have a lead on any case at all. Yet you dragged me out of the motel room at 6 AM to hit the road,” Sam questions.

     His brother shrugs and fails to answer the question. Instead, he mouths the lyrics of the song while cheerily banging his head to the beat.      “Dean!” Sam shouts, trying to get his brother to focus.      “What?!” Dean bounces back, getting somewhat annoyed with his brother’s persistence. “I just wanna get to Hillsboro to pick up that lock so I can finally fix the trunk, that’s all.”

     The passenger rolls his eyes at the lame excuse. “That’s not the reason, Dean. And you know it.”      Dean lays his hand on top of the wheel and shakes his head. “You’re seeing things that ain’t there, know that?”      “Funny, though, apparently you know that I’m talking about Zoë, without me even mentioning her,” the youngest returns with an attitude. “And do you honestly think I didn’t notice that you’re driving north?”      “We’re in Texas, Sam. I can’t exactly go South without crossing any fucking borders,” Dean argues. “Not to mention that ‘north’ is a lot of square miles in this country. How the hell would we possibly be able to find her?”      “I don’t know, man…” Sam stares up the road ahead, but then looks aside. “But you did think of it then.”

     Dean sighs, realizing his slip of the tongue. Okay, so maybe he did, but he isn’t going to admit that. “You are the one who keeps calling her every day. You’re full on stalking her, no wonder she doesn’t pick up.”      “I hope to God that’s the reason,” Sam responds, worried.      “She’s probably just neck deep in a case,” the driver brings to mind. “Zoë’s a good hunter, she knows her shit. Why would you think she’s in trouble?”      “I don’t know, just the way she took off. Like she wasn’t expecting to see us again,” Sam recalls.      “You mean that she was nice?” the oldest rephrases. “Look, if she’s in trouble or not, we’d be searching for a needle in a very big haystack. For now -” He turns on his blinker and exits the highway, “- I’m gonna patch up my Baby.”

     Ten minutes later, they pull over on 526 West Elm Street in Hillsboro. It’s a quiet lane on the outer side of the city, on which a little auto shop called Ronny’s Garage and Wrecker Services is situated. It’s not a big place, just a shed, from which the Stars and Stripes flag flutter playfully. A big Chevrolet truck is parked in front of the lawn, and several wreckages fill the large yard behind the house. On the other side of the sober home next to the shed, there’s a small gas station. 

     Dean cuts the engine and gets out of the car. A largely built man with big sideburns and a slight limp in his walk shows up from under the garage door and moves into the sun. Whipping his hands clean with a dirty cloth, he smiles at the sight of the ‘67 Impala. The oldest of the two Winchester brothers walks up the driveway.      “Ronny Davis!” Dean grins as he approaches him. “Man, it’s good to see ya.”      “Long time, no see, Winchester,” the big man says, embracing the hunter.

     Dean pats him on the back and restores the space between them. It has been a while. Last time he saw the brawny guy was at a shady diner in Tampa, where he and John helped Ron out on a Djinn case. It must have been four years ago, at least. Sam just left for college around that time.      “How’s your old man?” he wonders.      “He’s alright,” Dean says, keeping up appearances. “Workin’ another case.”

     It’s not a lie. Well, technically it’s not. He will leave out the part where his father is missing, though. Not telling the truth to the old friend is not something he’s comfortable with, but he will do anything to make sure his father’s work isn’t jeopardized. Sam was eager to reach out to other hunters in order to find him and although Dean wants to track him down just as well, he prefers to keep this in the family, letting sleeping dogs lie. Who knows who, or what, might be listening in. They will find Dad, when he wants to be found. 

     The two men enter the garage, where a 62’ Lincoln Continental lays on the operating table with a bared engine bay. While Dean nods at the car with appreciating eyes, Ronny turns around to  observe the youngest Winchester for a moment, who gets out of the car.      “I see Sam is back in action.”      “Yeah, dragged his ass back into the game,” Dean replies with a trace of regret in his voice.      “He’s an excellent hunter. We can use a few good men like him,” Ronny says. “Especially now that one of the very best was sent on early retirement.”      Dean chuckles at his comment and glances down. “How are you, by the way?”      Ron pulls up the pant leg of his overhaul, revealing the bionic prosthetic.      “It doesn’t even hurt a bit,” he jokes. “Ruguru took it right off, knee and all.”      “I’m sorry, man,” Dean sighs, his sympathetic eyes meeting Ronny’s.      “It’s quite alright, actually,” he assures, smiling at the ground. “I mean, I still have holy water on my nightstand and a sixgun by the door, but instead of killing monsters I fix cars now. Life could be worse.”

     Dean can’t help but to agree on that. A small prick of jealousy pierces his heart, because deep down, he wouldn’t mind living the ordinary life. Sure, he has embraced hunting, or at least acts like he has. He finds fulfillment in the job, saving people who are in need and ridding the world of evil, but it comes with great sacrifice. Who knows, maybe when they finally find the son of a bitch that killed his mother, he can lay down his weapons. Some day.

     The former hunter has walked to his workbench on which a dissected transmission box lays bare. “So, what brings you here?”      “Passing through, just wrapped up a case in Waco,” Dean tells him. “Some scumbag tried to break into the trunk, though. The lock is busted, couldn’t fix it. And since you have six and a half a Chevy in your backyard, I figured you’d be the guy who could help me out.”      “I actually dismantled a 69’ Caprice last week, same lock as the ‘67.” He moves a few boxes around, snuffling through the thousands of parts. In this organized chaos Ron is able to find what he’s looking for and pulls the lock plus keys from a drawer.      “Let’s get to work,” Dean suggests, contented.

     As the mechanics take a look at the Impala, Sam wanders off. Not going anywhere in particular, the youngest Winchester strolls down the crooked sidewalk, taking in his surroundings. None of the lawns in the neighborhood are taken care of, no one made the effort to water the grass. The houses seem neglected, paint is coming off the wooden frames and weeds growing through the tiles. 

     With a sigh he takes out his phone. Scrolling through the list of last outgoing calls, Zoë shows on the display over and over again. Dean’s right; he is stalking her. Despite that thought, he presses the green button and puts his new Blackberry against his ear, since the last one perished in the lake in Paragould.

     “This is the voicemail of Zoë Sullivan. You can leave a message after the--”

     Annoyed, Sam hangs up and walks on. As he enters the small shop by the gas station, a bell rings. A middle aged woman behind the counter looks up and greets him politely. He gives her a nod and takes a few candy bars from the selves, since there is no healthy alternative in stock to choose from. So much for breakfast, but at least this will save them from starvation.      “That will be $ 3,60, sir,” the lady informs while she puts the bars in a plastic bag.      He passes her a five dollar bill and takes the bag and his change. As she wishes him a nice day, he leaves. The sun almost blinds him, still hanging low, but shining brightly already. Sam narrows his eyes and starts to make his way back to the garage, when his phone rings. A bit startled, he hastily takes out his phone, hoping it’s Zoë, but the caller ID isn’t identified on the display. While wondering who it could be, he answers.      “This is Sam.”      “Sam Winchester?”

     A bit stunned, the young hunter looks back at his display to make sure the woman on the other end of the line isn’t Zoë. The voice coming through is different, softer, with a slightly dissimilar accent. Sam digs deep down his memory, but he doesn’t recognize the person on the phone.      “Who is this?” he asks, still cautious.      “I have some information for you.”      Whoever she is, she got his attention. Sam tries to not sound too curious as he responds. “What kind of information?”       A short silence follows before the girl answers, but when she does, her words bring his heart and mind to a full stop.

      “I know where your father is.”

There you have it, the first chapter of the new episode “Black Dog”. I hope I got your attention! Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part three here

[rosecoloredbi-writes]

Settle (Chapter 3)

Summary: After the death of your best friend and their spouse, you went from Godparent to Parent overnight. Now, Mio is your world. Because of this new role, you move back to Tokyo, Japan in order to keep Mio with her friends and her school, even if it means you might run into *him*.

Warnings: Mentions of stalking. Swearing probably. Cannon violence. Single parenthood. barely mentions Mio’s parents passing. Mentions of needles/tattooing at home. First look at Dabi and the reader's abusive relationship...

Gender Neutral!Reader x ?????

Mentions of past GN!Reader x Dabi

A/N: So... I decided the direction for the pairing has changed and it could be anyone even though I made this with the intention of it being Shouta... but who knows!! It sure as hell isn't me in charge of this :)

Tags: @dungeons-and-awkwarddragons @encrytpta

The next day, Aizawa escorts you and Mio to a Quirk Testing Facility nearby, wary of any watching eyes. He expects Hawks to be there, maybe a few others who are involved in the case, even a few involved from afar. This is one of those multi-agency cases. All hands on deck when it comes to the League of Villains.

Aizawa watches as you step out of the changing room with Mio in matching athletic gear, although yours shows more skin for ease of use of your quirk. You go sit down in the chair next to his as you both wait for the quirk tester to appear. Mio puts in headphones to listen to music.

A scowl shows up involuntarily on your face as soon as Hawks walks in. A smirk on his stupid, punchable fa-

“Why don’t you like Hawks?” Aizawa interrupts your thoughts before they can start to get violent.

Your eyes slid over to meet his for a moment before you turned back to the man in question, “I know his type.”

“And what exactly is my type?” Hawks interrupts from across the room.

Damn his excellent hearing.

You stood, going toe to toe with the bird boy, glad in this moment that Mio is busy listening to music. “You're the kind of guy who is a little too cocky for his own good, who doesn't care if he hurts anyone else to get what he wants.” You flush slightly when you realize just how close you had gotten to him.

“Sounds like a compliment to me,” he winks, a stupid lopsided grin on his lips.

It makes you want to-

“Alright Mx. L/N,” a woman walks in with her eyes on a clipboard, “Let’s see what you can do!” She looks up to see the impending clash and gives a look that tells you this is something she is used to.

You send Hawks a mischievous glare, “I can demonstrate on him if you’d like.”

Hawks is about to volunteer when the woman, Professor Tanaka, sighs and tells Hawks to sit down.

He sits next to Mio who begins admiring his feathers.

You start warming up your muscles and make quick but concise observations of the testing room. It made you nervous. You hadn’t gone to a hero school because you never wanted to be a hero. You would have been perfectly happy being quirkless however, you weren’t. You had this quirk and now that you had Mio, you would use it to protect her. Gone were the days of others using you for your quirk.

A chime goes off and a few bots appear for the upper left-hand corner. As you turn you begin to form a staff from your right side, pulling it up and out so that it doesn’t get caught on your shorts, you’d learned that the hard way. A few quick jabs and the bots fell to the floor and different ones come in. They were built to mimic common quirks so you had no way of knowing what they’d use, but you weren’t going to give them any time to show you. You quickly create the throwing knives you had tattooed on your hands/arms and threw them with precision so that they strike anywhere a bot could deploy a quirk. Then, you pick your staff back up and strike them. They explode on each other and you duck away from the blast. A chime goes off informing you the current test was over. So, you stand up and take a bow.

They were content with your performance, so now Professor Tanaka was having you make as many things as you could in succession. You look back to see your audience, Hawks is doing his best to look bored, Mio had excitement and pride written over her features, and Aizawa… you couldn’t read him. You had no idea what he was thinking or feeling and that made you nervous.

You were getting bored, so you had Mio come over and point at a tattoo for you to create rather than you picking at random. You created vines that extended past your arms and crept around the testing room, one wrapping around Hawks’ ankles and another up Aizawa’s chair to his chest. They moved in a snake-like fashion, curling and slinking up and around whatever you wanted. This went on for about 10 minutes before they began to disintegrate back into nothingness. You were drained, but now Mio had touched the butterfly, it was her favorite of all your creations. With the last of your energy, you create a swarm of butterflies that gently flit throughout the room.

Hawks gasps. You turn, intending to give him a smug look, but your eyes catch on Aizawa, who looks on with an almost childlike wonder. His eyes meet yours and that sparkle is back for just a second before it’s gone again.

You now look back to the professor who is writing in her notebook quickly. You had anticipated this. Most people with creation quirks could only make non-living things. You were somewhat of an anomaly. Before the professor could ask questions, you began explaining your quirk.

“My father’s side is full of run-of-the-mill creation quirks while my mother had an illusion quirk. I got the mix of the two. I’ve never been able to create anything more complicated than bugs and insects. My vines seem alive, but they’re probably closer to working like Eraser Head’s capture weapon. Inanimate objects are easier. I can keep those up for hours if need be. My vines didn’t last long because I’m already worn out and I’m directing multiple parts at once. The butterflies last longer because I don’t control where they go or what they do, at least so far.”

Professor Tanaka nodded as she continues taking notes, Mio was having the time of her life running around amidst all the butterflies, Aizawa was trying not to stare, and Hawks had a look on his face that causes you concern. He stands and approaches you quickly, wings puffed, back straight.

“Y/N, why the hell aren’t you a hero? We could use someone like you!” he was exasperated, but you knew he didn’t understand.

“Hawks,” You said as you stand. Your butterflies begin to swarm behind you causing a beautiful but terrifying visual. “Why do you think you know what's best for everyone around you? Why do you think you know me? I’ve played hero before and it was hell. I am not an object, a weapon to be used by someone else!”

Your butterflies swarm him, following the emotion you carry with your words. They aren’t going to hurt him, but Hawks uses his feathers to disintegrate your creation. You shake your head at him and he feels something odd in the pit of his stomach. You almost reach Mio when you collapse and luckily Aizawa is there, catching you quickly.

“I fear we pushed them too far,” a distant voice comments. “We ought to save Mio’s testing for another time.”

“You know why we need these results, Professor,” A smoothly annoying voice responds. “I say we do it anyway.”

Professor Tanaka speaks again, “We need parental or guardian permission before we can perform testing on minors. I will not skip a step because you *need* something.”

Then a third voice pipes up, “I’m lead on this investigation and I say we wait.” His tone is bored but straight to the point.

Thank you Aizawa, you think before you lose consciousness again.

Dabi has been in this damn tree for hours by the time you return, the erasure hero helping you walk up to your apartment. Dabi moves so he can keep an eye on you as you walk through your bedroom door. You begin to shed clothing as soon as the door is shut and Dabi takes a moment to look over your naked form, taking count of the different tattoos that cover your skin. Most are new- at least new to him. But he sees the dagger he inked into your skin so many years ago placed on the back of your thigh before you jump in the shower.

Dabi had helped you get out of a scrap with some lowlifes who would have picked a fight with anyone. You didn’t have many weapons at your disposal. So far a few throwing knives and your vines, but you’d have yet to master your throw or control of the weaving plant.

The plan for the evening had been to grab some pizza, but you were left exhausted. Whatever was in the fridge would have to do. Dabi picks you up and gets you back to your dingy shared apartment. It took a few hours, but you eventually woke up and stiffly got up from the spot Dabi had discarded you on the couch. Carefully you sat down at the desk with transfer paper and began to work on a design. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when a shadow covered your lighting.

“What do you think?” you ask, still focused on correcting an edge of the blade.

“I think it’s sexy,” he whispers, lips at the shell of your ear.

He gives you a few suggestions and then you print the drawing on the transfer paper.

“Where do I put it?” you’ve got an eyebrow raised suggestively.

“Let’s see,” he circles you, looking over every inch of skin that was currently exposed. “Pants,” he demands more than asks.

You do as he said and wiggle out of your pants. He gets closer, crouching down to run a rough finger down your leg before he determines the spot, leaving a kiss just below your left ass cheek.

Then he gets to work prepping the workspace, making sure everything was sterile. He places the stencil, taking his time. When he removes the paper you turn to look in the mirror and nod.

The only time Dabi is tender is when he has the needle in his hand inking you with your drawings. This process is what keeps you there. You know he’ll never let anyone touch you, he’s too possessive… and obsessive. But, you were drawn together for a reason- you were both too broken and too angry at the society of heroes everyone worships.

Dabi sighs, feeling odd about the hero making you dinner. “How disgustingly domestic,” he mutters to no one. “I'll give you one more night of peace,” he says decidedly. “League be damned. I’m doing this my way.”

[hollypastl]

the disappearance of [REDACTED] ch.1

miya atsumu/reader

Summary: "MISSING: MIYA Y/N" It reads. Underneath is a picture of yourself. Age, height, weight. Everything important is listed. How embarrassing.

Genre: angst/mystery

Warnings: missing persons, time skip spoilers

Notes: crossposted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726002/chapters/70432233 

chapter one: love is so short. forgetting is so long

He wakes up painfully aware that your weight is missing from his arms. It’s a little unusual. Most mornings, you two end up dragging each other out of bed. He’s not a morning person and you’re more than content to occupy him with your entire body weight. The flutter of your breath on his face and the gentle, but firm way you play with his fingers is soothing. Eventually, responsible thought wins out and one of you will bribe the other with a hot shower or an omelette. Usually.

But not today. His feet land on the floor after a good horizontal stretch and Atsumu yawns. He squints at the clock. 10:24 AM. “Hey, babe? Didja screw with my phone?” He calls, getting up from bed and heading towards the kitchen.

There’s a muffin and a bottle of iced coffee sitting on the kitchen counter, which he hungrily digs into. A part of him is resigned and ready to get caught red handed, scarfing down something which you were saving , but the second the banana flavor hits his tongue he knows it’s intended for him. Your distaste for the flavor is something even ‘Samu hasn’t been able to sway.

His eyes wander around the messy apartment you two share while he lazily munches away on his muffin and throws back the drink. Even through the mess, his gaze lands on a neatly folded slip of paper that’s stuck to the fridge with a Hello Kitty magnet. (And as much as he insisted to everyone ever invited over that it was yours, you both knew it was his. A leftover remnant of his childhood collection of random festival prizes.)

It’s a reach from his seat at the counter to the fridge, but he makes it without standing up or tipping over his chair. The coffee still slips from his grip and shatters on the floor.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

The safety hazard is ignored as he forces himself to reread it slower.

You’ve signed your name at the bottom, but the ink is blurred. It’s just a single drop, and he’s always known you to shed tears at the drop of a hat. He wonders what could’ve restrained you to not have wet stains all over the page.

It’s a joke.

It has to be.

The wedding ring on his finger suddenly feels tighter, like his blood flow is being constricted.

Your phone number is his first call.

He doesn’t know what he expects, but the vibrations of your phone on the table by the front door isn’t it. Whatever. Move on. He calls your parents house, but they haven’t heard from you. And you’re not at work either. In fact, when the boss gets on the phone, he explains he got a text early this morning that you quit out of the blue.

A myriadic list of other people to question is filling up in his head but he can’t quite bring himself to call.

The Jackal’s manager is buzzing him next. It’s rude, but he sends him straight to voicemail. Who cares that he’s late to practice?

He’s much too busy wondering where you’ve disappeared to.

Which is how he ends up nervously twiddling his thumbs in a police precinct.

The officer is rude. Actually, he’s not. He just thinks the guy is being a jackass because he’s not being particularly helpful.

“We’ll be happy to search for signs she was taken against her will, but judging by the note she left and that you found no signs of a break-in, it sounds like she left of her own volition.” And the absolute gut punch of, “Miya-san… Are you sure she didn’t run off with another man?”

He can’t wrap his head around it. The detective recognizing him barely makes him feel better. “Miya… MiyA-SENSHU? We’ll have our best investigators on this, I promise you! Can I get you a cup of coffee? Did you walk here? Someone will drive you home.”

He watches absently as the officer who drove him back pokes around the apartment. Pictures are snapped and locks are inspected. Your hairbrush is bagged as DNA evidence and Atsumu silently notices your sneakers and his favorite hoodie gone from the closet.

It doesn’t seem real. You should be on your lunch break right now, sending him a text or even calling to ask if he wants to go visit his parents next week.

When the man finally leaves, Atsumu’s pocket starts buzzing once again.

His breath catches when it turns out to be your phone and not his. The number isn’t listed and he stops breathing entirely at that. A desperate part of him hopes you’re on the other end of the line as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“This is Kitano Medical Imaging Center, I have information regarding scans for Miya Y/N.”

“She’s-” He chokes from the lack of air. Isn’t breathing supposed to be something he doesn’t have to think about anymore? “She’s not available at the moment. M’her husband though, I can pass it along.”

They’re silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, but I’m unable to release medical information to anyone but the patient at this time. Thank you and good day, sir.”

He chews on his bottom lip at that. The hell did that mean? What name had they given? Kitano? Osaka General was closer.

And what about these scans you had gotten done?

Knocking at his door busts him out of his head. What was it now? He considers ignoring it but, “C’mon, open up ‘Tsum-tsum!” Bokuto isn’t one to be easily discouraged.

But the shattered glass still lying on his kitchen floor steals his attention and mutes the shouting, if only slightly. Bokuto will have questions that Atsumu doesn’t care to or just doesn’t have the answers to. Instead, he lets his teammate tire himself out while he sits at the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the hazard he has yet to clean up.

He shows up to training half an hour early the next morning, getting a headstart on lat pull-downs before anyone else has even arrived. The team trickles in slowly and it would be a lie to say he didn’t notice the little glances they keep giving him. Everyone is on edge and the scowl marring his face probably doesn’t help the mood.

“Whaddya’ mean it’s written all over m’face?” He frowned, shouldering his bag.

“Atsumu.” Even though your back was to him, he could tell you were rolling your eyes as you locked up the gym. “You’re chronically easy to read.”

“Am not!”

You rested a hand on your hip, narrowing your eyes. “C’mon, I think it’s cute how you wear your heart on your sleeve,” The door clicked shut and you swung around, keys and lanyard in hand. “If you want, I’ll let you in on the secret of how I mastered my poker face.” You offered, elbowing him.

“Hah! Yeah, right! Last week ya cried when Kita-senpai said ya weren’t good at cleanin’ water bottles.”

It was true, you had burst into tears. “Please. Fake crying is a much more advanced skill. I’m talkin’ about a good ‘ole blank and neutral expression—”

“Wait, ya mean ya did that on purpose?” He threw an incredulous look your way.

You rolled your eyes once more. He was so naive. “Senpai did end up washing the whole crate for me, didn’t he?”

Atsumu stared at you, jaw slack.

“Atsumu?” You waved a hand in front of your face.

“Atsumu, you good?”

“Huh?”

“I asked why you went AWOL yesterday.” Meian’s brow furrowed and Atsumu forced out an answer he had decided hours ago.

“Just a family issue, sorry I didn’t get the chance to call, man.”

He could almost hear your voice now, congratulating him on keeping cool. He feels sick. Like a kid who’s eaten too much for their lil’ stomach to handle and is about to vomit all over the floor. That exact thing had happened to ‘Samu once. It was someone’s birthday in their middle school class —he couldn’t remember who— and the idiot had eaten five pieces of cake while nobody was looking.

It wouldn’t have been a problem on it’s own. The glutton wouldn’t dare waste food by throwing it up. The problem came when he washed it all down with spiked punch.

The class had gotten in so much trouble for that.

Nobody had seen it happen and the culprit wouldn’t come forward. The entire class was forced to endure cleaning duty for a month and they were banned from participating in the sports festival. He had been so pissed.

Now it’s just a bad memory in the bad of his mind. Thoughts absentmindedly trailing back to you, (like they always seem to) he wonders where you had been during that incident. You hadn’t been friends with him yet. He didn’t even know your first name at that point. But you had been in his class. He distinctly remembers arbitrarily voting you for class rep because you were pretty.

And, now that he really thinks about it, he remembers seeing your arm slowly rise.

“It was me. I did it. It was a really bad joke and I’m sorry.”

He’d been sitting a couple rows behind you, so he couldn’t see the look on your face, but he knew it must’ve been painted with shame.

Nobody believed you. Without missing a beat, the assistant principal had kindly told you it was noble to try and take the fall. Your friend had tugged on the edge of your skirt, beckoning for you to sit down. Just like that, it was over. He’s surprised he can recall it. The whole thing, start to finish, must’ve been less than fifteen seconds. He doubts anyone else remembers but you.

He considers your words from back then. How you had said it was just a bad joke.

His immature ass, having stomach pains from laughing so hard, would beg to differ. Your jokes never fall flat.

He finishes his set and moves to the leg press.

Desperately, he needs to believe the past twenty four hours have been a joke. That you just left to visit a friend, or needed some space. But the items on the list keep adding up.

His eyes start tearing up and he wipes the sweat from his forehead.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .3.

monday

part 1 part 2

Warnings: non/dub con sex (some naughty talk and naughty touching :o)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: A pool party, several awkward encounters, and our reader’s endless struggle.

Note: Okay, part 3! Let’s get wild. But we’re still at a steady pace here so don’t get too far! Steve’s closing in and our reader’s in a corner! 

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

...

You were far from relaxed. Your night had been spent sleepless and your morning was off to a rocky start. Kylie, as usual, was intent on sleeping til noon. You knocked on her door and tried to wake her but she sleepily batted you away and rolled over. So much for your vacation.

You returned to your room and texted your mom. Ten minutes, no answer. She was probably already at work. 

You thought about sneaking down for coffee but the memory of the previous morning deterred you. What would you do if you were caught alone with Steve? What would you say?

You thought about calling the visit short but how would you explain that to Kylie? Aside from her accusations of you being a party pooper, you might actually lose your only friend on campus. And if you did tell her why, you weren't so sure she'd believe you. It was her dad after all.

When Kylie awoke, you were relieved when she announced a shopping trip. Supplies for the party. It was a welcome distraction from your thoughts and much needed escape from the house.

You didn't need to worry about evading Steve or confronting him. You could just focus on the list and trust in Kylie's fake I.D. 

You ate a late lunch at a bistro and on your way back stopped to pick up two of Kylie's friends. Jenny and Danielle were kindred spirits to Kylie. You were starting to figure out the type of girl she was in high school. How did she end up with you?

You didn't mull it for to long. You and Kylie might have been complete opposites but she still enjoyed your company. You recalled the few nights you had torn yourself away from studying to join her at a house party or sneak in the back door of the club. She brought the worst out of you. That part you had repressed for honours and hopefully, a future.

Back at the house, Jenny and Danielle didn't waste time making themselves comfortable. They knew the house better than you and figured they had spent many after school hours there. You were an outsider again.

"We should set up the yard." Jenny announced. "Dani, you can get the drinks in the fridge."

"Dad says we can use the mini fridge," Kylie offered as she shifted the loaded paper bag across the counter. "He says once it's full, that's it. He doesn't want a rave."

"Cool. My mom won't even let us look at a drink," Jenny said, "You're dad's always so chill."

"He wasn't even suppose to be here," Kylie bemoaned. "I swear he stayed just to be a pain."

"Are my ears ringing or are you talking about me?" Steve stepped through the open glass door, his hair mussed and his body still damp from the pool. "Was just getting in a swim before my exile begins."

"Dad," Kylie actually looked close to smiling, "We were just saying how nice it is of you to let us have the party."

"We'll see how nice I feel in the morning," He shook his head, "The moment something's broke or there's vomit in my yard, you're done. Capacity is twelve….including the four of you." 

"Nice-ish," Kylie muttered. "Alright, let's get to work." She clapped her hands as she turned away from her dad. "Dani, drinks. Me and Jenny will start on the food and, um, oh, we need the table set up by the pool."

"I think I can handle that," You tried not to acknowledge Steve as he crossed the kitchen.

"Awesome," Kylie said as she began to unpack your wares, "Tables in the garage."

"Shed, actually," Steve paused in the doorway. "I moved it last week. I'll show you."

"I'm sure she can find it," Kylie shook her head.

"And how's she supposed to move it?" He challenged. "Let me get some shoes and I'll meet you out there."

Steve left and Kylie rolled her eyes. It was more playful than irritated. "Sometimes I can't tell if he's trying to be helpful or a pain in the ass."

You wondered the same and you tried to hide your dread. Was he trying to get you alone or was this just your usual misfortune?

"Uh, where's the shed?" You felt even dumber as Danielle was already carrying the drinks to the garage and Jenny was casually setting out a cutting board and knife.

"Round the side. Opposite side from the garage. Easiest is to go through the front." She explained as she unlocked her phone and searched for a playlist. "Let's get this party started." 

She hit play and forgot about you. You reluctantly left her as she began to sing along with Jenny. All you had to do was get the table set up. Easy. Quick.

You hopped down the cobble steps and crossed the grass to the side of the house. The shed was just beside a cottage style gate, hidden subtly in the shade of a weeping elm tree. It was almost like a quaint little cabin.

You heard footsteps and Steve appeared from around the front of the house. He had pulled on sneakers and a tee that clung to his broad torso. You stared at the vines that crawled up the side of the house and stepped back.

"Almost forgot the key," He held up a copper key and brushed by you. He unlocked the door easily and dropped the key in his shorts pocket. "It's buried in the back."

He ducked inside and jostled around a few bins of miscellany and squeezed past the riding mower. He grunted as he lifted the folding table and carefully guided it back.

"Used to have these big barbecues for Kylie's birthday," He stepped out and leaned the table against the shed. He closed the door without locking it. "Whole neighbourhood would come."

"Oh," You replied dully.

He lifted the table again. "You wanna get the gate?"

You scurried to the gate and stood on tiptoes as you felt around the other side for the latch. You popped it and pulled back the wooden door. He smiled at you as you waited for him to lead the way.

"So where do you want it?" He asked as he neared the pool.

"Just by the chairs I guess." You supposed it was the most practical place for it.

You followed and he set it down and unhooked the clasp to unfold it. He locked a pair of legs in place as you did the same. "Okay, on three." He counted and you flipped the table together.

"You're quiet today," He commented as you clapped your hands off. "Aren't you excited for the party?"

"Yeah, I guess," You shrugged.

"A lot of strangers, eh?" He asked.

"Lots of strangers at uni too," You countered.

"There would be," He was unfazed by your indifference. "You're welcome to hang out with me if it gets too much. I'll just be making myself invisible."

"Uh huh," You looked to the sliding glass door. "Thanks for the offer...I should go help them."

You brusquely walked away and felt his gaze follow you. You were more frustrated at his aloofness than the events of the night before. He didn't even seem to remember.

-

Taylor was the first to show up and Kylie was quickly distracted with her baser desires. Jenny and Danielle knew most of the other guests and quickly attached themselves to similar partners. Jenny with Jesse and Danielle with her old high school girlfriend Mia. 

There were two other guys who came with Taylor; Brent and Carlos. Plus two more of Kylie's friends from her old job; Anette and Danai. You were almost at capacity and you found yourself in a corner.

"Hey," Kylie had finally detached her mouth from Taylor's. "You wanna go grab the rest of the vodka. Punch is running low."

"Yes, my lady," You jibed.

"Well, I wouldn't ask if you were busy but you've barely said hi." She frowned.

"I did actually but no one heard me." You grumbled. "I'm good. I'll probably just take a dip."

"Or maybe try the punch once you top it up," She trilled, "Loosen up a bit."

"Alright," You shook your head and she wandered back to her date.

You were relieved to be free of the music and chatter that formed a wall around the pool. The voices were muffled as you slid close the kitchen door. You sighed and carried on down the hall to the garage.

It was cool inside and smelled of oil and must. Like any garage. You stomped down the three steps and headed for the fridge in the other corner. A wrench clicked and you noticed the shadow near the door. 

Steve looked over and smiled as he sat on the rolling stool and tinkered with the underbelly of a motorbike. You gulped and strode to the fridge. You opened it and squatted to search out the bottle of vodka.

You heard him stand, the wrench set aside on the stool. His footsteps neared the other side of the fridge door and you kept your eyes on the rows of cans and bottles.

"Hope you're not getting too wild," He leaned on the fridge as he spoke. You grabbed the neck of the bottle and stood.

"No," You replied meekly.

"Any cute boys?" He asked. You grimaced. "Nah, didn't think so…you seem the type to prefer someone a little more mature."

"Would you stop?" You turned on him and shut the fridge. He released it in surprise. "Why...Why did you do it?"

"It was just a kiss," He shrugged. You looked away. You recalled the warmth of his lips on yours. The silence filled with tension. "Wait...You're not...Are you a virgin? Oh, shit."

"Don't--" Your voice caught in your throat. It was all the confirmation he needed. "Is this what you do?"

"You think I'm an old pervert or something." He shook his head. "No, I never...before, I…"

"Why?"

"You're a pretty young woman. You're sweet and...I guess I'm lonely," He resigned, "Can you blame me? I mean, look at you."

"It's wrong," You asserted. "Kylie--"

"Is having her own fun. She's got her boy here. I'm not stupid," He said, "She's young, she's enjoying her life. Maybe you should try it, too."

"Maybe I should get back to the party," You backed away. He had gotten so close. "They're waiting."

"Alright," He was nonchalant. Confident, almost. "Have fun...don't get into too much trouble."

-

For once, Kylie was right. Drinking was the solution. After returning from the garage, you were so on edge that you could barely stand still. You changed into your two-piece and treated yourself to a healthy cup of punch. And another.

You ended up in the pool with Kylie and several other girls. Your giggles carried into the dark night as you indulged and tried to forget about the night before. The vodka helped. The company more. In a way, Steve's advice had worked. You should enjoy yourself. Get over your stupid shyness and live.

When at last you climbed out, you hiccuped and reached for your towel. The party was thinning out. Kylie bent to kiss Taylor as he lazed across a beach chair and you dried yourself off. Danielle and Jenny called there goodbyes from the sliding door and dragged their dates with them. A reminder that you were the only one leaving stag. Well, except Kylie.

"Hey," Her whisper was loud. It was more a hiss. "I'm gonna sneak out with Taylor."

"What?" Your heart dropped. "But...your dad--"

"He's probably already asleep," She laughed, "Just open and close my door so he thinks I'm in bed."

"Kylie," You sighed.

"Come on," She whined, "I'm leaving in less than two weeks. I won't see Taylor for the rest of the summer."

"You know, you asked me to come here," You slurred and steadied yourself on the table. "And you just leave me all the time."

"Oh, Jesus, I promise, tomorrow we'll hang out," Taylor pulled at her hand as he stood. "Just you and me. I'll even do all the cleaning up."

You huffed and looked around. Everyone else was gone.

"Can't he just stay and sneak out in the morning?" You asked.

"No way. My dad would kill me."

"And if you sneak out?" You snapped.

"It's fine. Stop worrying so much." She started to pull Taylor toward to the gate. "We'll even go around so we don't wake him up, okay?"

"You owe me," You relented. There was no winning this fight. "Now go before you get yourself in trouble. Call a cab."

"We're walking," She called as you watched her go and she leaned on Taylor. Would they even make it to his place? He was relatively sober. At least steadier on his feet than her.

You tramped across the stone to the sliding door. It took you a few tries to click the lock into place. The climb up the staircase was daunting. Your head began to spin as you latched onto the rail. The vodka sank in your stomach and dulled your nerves. You quickly forgot about your anger.

The hall seemed longer than usual. You hiccuped loudly and cursed under your breath. You held onto the wall as you clung to the towel hanging loosely around your still damp body. You leaned on your door heavily and turned the handle. It took a few tries and you fell through onto your side. 

You giggled across the floor, your legs still in the hallway. Okay, you were drunk. You sat up and grabbed onto the door frame. You pulled yourself up and before you could sink back down, you felt a hand on your elbow. You turned as Steve kept you from toppling again.

"Woah, be careful," He said. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Wh-where did you come from?" You asked. A voice in the back of your head told you to pull away but you feared another fall.

"I was just in my room and I heard you," He explained, "I thought you were Kylie."

"Sh-she's in bed," You said a bit too abruptly. Did he know you were lying? Surely those deep blue eyes saw right through you. "Which is where I'm headed."

"Oh, are you now? You think you'll make it?" He challenged.

"I can do it myself," You tore your arm from him and stumbled into your room. You caught the door before you could crash back into the floor. You leaned dangerously against it. "You...you…" 

The thought floated away as he neared and took your arm again. You shivered and his other hand felt the side of your bathing suit. "You're wet."

"I was swimming, duh," You spat. "I'm fine."

"Just let me help you," He said exasperated.

You harrumphed but let go of the door. He guided you to the bed and you collapsed onto it sloppily. He chuckled and you listened to his footsteps. You turned to watch him pick up the towel where it lay strewn across the threshold. He closed the door and hung it over a chair.

"What are you--I gotta sleep!" You wriggled across the bed and buried your head in the pillows as if to hide.

"Not in a wet bathing suit," He said. "You'll get sick."

"I told you, I'm fine." You lifted your head. "Now go."

You heard him moving around. His weight shifted the bed and you tried to shimmy away. His large hand settled on your hip and he turned you over. You swallowed a belch as he did. 

"Come on, sit up." He pulled you up and you hung limp from his grasp. "Let's get you changed." He leaned you against his shoulder and his fingers deftly rolled up the top of your swimsuit. "Arms up." 

Dazed, you did as he said and he slipped your top past your head. You fell back and your tits jiggled. You didn't miss his stare as you blinked. You crossed your arms to cover yourself. His fingers glided over your waist, you felt his warmth as he moved closer and bent over you.

He kissed you again. Deeper than the night before. His hand moved along your torso and up your arms. He pulled them away from your chest. You groaned and his lips trailed to your cheek and down your neck. You murmured at the tickle within your core.

"What are you doing?" You whispered. He dragged his mouth along your throat and his hand squeezed your tit. Your back arched without thinking. "Steve…"

"Shh," He looked up at your as he went lower. 

His blue eyes flared and he bent his head over your chest. His golden hair fell forward as he pushed your tits against his face and took a nipple in his mouth. You pushed on his head but he didn't even notice.

He lifted his body over yours. He pressed his knee between your legs and forced them apart as he did. His tongue swirled around your nipple and you moaned. You clasped your hand over your mouth in surprise. Shame.

"Please, you can't--"

"It's okay, sweetie," He fondled your tit as he looked up at you. "I just want you to have a little fun...show you what you're missing."

He grabbed your bottoms and his hands slid over your ass as he yanked them down. He sat up as he brought your legs up to free them from your swimsuit and you gasp. He dropped your legs around him as he stared at your body. His fingers traced the lines of your pelvis and he bent over you again.

He stifled your protest with his lips. He kissed you roughly as he felt around. His fingers tickled your stomach and thighs as they danced around your pussy. You squeezed your legs around him. He took it as permission and rubbed two fingers against your lips. He moaned into your mouth as he pressed between your folds.

You trembled and he started to caress you. Gently at first. You moaned again and he parted from your lips. His other hand cradled your face as he nuzzled your neck. You wiggled beneath him but it only intensified his touch. He played with your clit and you whimpered. 

It was too much. 

Your breath hitched and he started to kiss your neck, little nibbles along the flesh. You felt the orgasm building. Bigger than any you had experienced before. Hotter than that felt at your own touch. You bit your lip and his fingers sped up.

The noise that came from you was humiliating. You cried out and your thighs tensed. You tilted your pelvis against his hand as you climaxed. Your mewls pierced your rampant breaths and his fingers eased you through your peak.

Slowly, he sat up. He dragged his slick fingers down your thighs and left a trail of your juices along your skin. You could see his arousal through his pajamas. He reached for a familiar pair of leopard print shorts and backed up. He hooked them around your feet and tugged them up your legs.

He dressed you carefully in the pajamas he had set beside you. He took your swimsuit bottoms and rubbed the crotch between his thumb and index. He smirked and stood. You were out of breath and spinning. You watched his blurry figure as he moved around the room. 

He disappeared through the door of the bathroom before he returned. He still held your bathing suit. He neared the door with one last look over his shoulder. In your haze, you couldn't make out his face, only heard his voice. 

"Good night, sweetie." He flicked the light off and the door opened and closed. 

You laid in the dark, drunk on vodka and bliss, and the heat between your legs lulled you into a stupor. The world faded to black as the memories melted to dreams.

-

tags to be added in reblog

[shesclearlya3]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever P.4

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,313

warnings: language, sadness, fluff, slight angst

not entirely proof-read. *title inspired by Ben Platt’s song*

part 1 part 2 part 3

Life was fucking weird. 

If it wasn't apparent to you then, you definitely realized it now. 

Camp Redwood should just be burned to the ground, you thought to yourself. Your body felt like it was floating; nothing was holding you, you were just floating. Your eyes would not open, no matter how many times you attempted it. The air around you was cold, gently ruffling your hair and tenderly brushing against your skin. You had been there for a few moments, you thought.

In the real world, you were gone for weeks. 

The day you died, everyone had come running back to the cabin, their arms loaded with supplies to take care of you. The sight of Xavier holding your dead body would haunt them forever. His cries of agony could probably be heard in Los Angeles as he begged you to come back. 

The boys attempted to pull Xavier away from you, but he refused, picking up the dagger Richard Ramirez had left behind when he was dragged out. Your blood had already started to dry, and the others held their hands up, promising they wouldn't touch you. At least, not yet. 

Montana sat next to Trevor outside, Ray and Chet leaning against some trees. They sat in silence, unable to hear Xavier as he forced them out, slamming the doors in their face. 

"She has to come back, right?" Chet asked.

"It wouldn't make sense if she didn't," Montana frowned, "All of us did, he needs to calm down,"

Ray glared down at the blonde, straightening up. He knew nothing about you other than your name, and you were friends with Xavier. Yet, he still felt the need to defend you, to defend Xavier. You didn't deserve this. 

You were here to grieve, not die. 

"Why are you so miserable all of the time, hmm?" Ray snapped, prepared to fight a girl. Montana could probably beat his ass if he let her, but he was tired of being unheard in the group. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" Montana asked, standing up. Trevor rubbed a hand over his face while Chet watched excitedly. 

"You have nothing nice to say about anybody! You have no respect, did you know that, Montana? What the fuck did y/n ever do to you?"

Montana remained silent, sizing up Ray from head to toe. Maybe she wasn't in love with Xavier, but she liked him enough. All he would talk about was you, before and after 1984. It pissed her off that nobody loved her like Xavier loved you.

"You only care about yourself, an innocent person just died! You're Xavier's friend, right? How about you go in there and say what you just told us, see how fast he knocks you-"

A loud slap came from nowhere, his head whipping to the side. Trevor's mouth dropped open, slightly turned on by what just happened. Chet was speechless, looking at Montana with concern. 

Montana was never one to apologize for her actions, and today was no different. She turned and stomped off, heading in the direction of the kitchens. Nobody bothered to go after her, knowing it would be a death sentence to disturb her. 

"You okay, man?" Chet finally spoke up, placing a hand on Ray's shoulder.

"I'm fine," he said, blinking away the slight tear that formed in his eye. "I just, I did a lot of screwed up shit in my life, I want to be a better person." 

"It's not too late for you," Trevor spoke up. The two boys turned, giving him a quizzical look. "We uh, we need to go in there, Xavier shouldn't be doing this to himself." 

The boys agreed, slowly climbing up the steps and opening the door. It was silent in the other room, and as they joined Xavier, he was still holding you, his head resting on your head. Your eyes had already glazed over, the beautiful orbs now dead to the world. 

"Xav," Ray said, holding out a hand. Xavier glared at them, his eyes still glassy, but no tears fell. "We need to move her,"

"LEAVE us alone, please!" Xavier said, his voice cracking. 

Chet took a step forward, mimicking Ray's actions, "Plympton, she wouldn't want you doing this, we have to get her somewhere, they need to find her and bring her home."

Xavier couldn't argue with that, he knew Chet was right, damn him. You would be upset with him if he made himself suffer like this.

Xavier pressed a final kiss to your forehead, before slowly climbing off the bed. Ray kept him in place as Trevor and Chet gently grabbed you, wrapping you in a blanket and carrying you out.

Since nobody could get beyond the gates, they had to come up with a solution. The chances of you being found right away were slim to none. Xavier stayed back, his blue eyes shedding tears like a broken faucet. 

You were one of the purest souls in the world, the most genuine Xavier had ever known. Would you come back to him? Would he be stuck for eternity in a world where you ceased to exist?

Xavier permanently residing in Camp Redwood was not easy. He managed to have a lot of good days, his new friends, and the things they did daily kept him grounded. But when it came to you, he had missed you dearly. It was more comforting to know you were alive in Los Angeles, leaving your mark on the world.

Now that you were gone, and that you might not return is what killed him the most.

_

Some poor souls found you while going on a hike.

They ran to the nearest payphone, calling the police, and once again, the camp was a crime scene.

Xavier and the others made no appearances, for the time being, Montana surprisingly honoring Xavier's wishes. The slight bruises and cuts along your body were clues, but it baffled the on-site coroner who was trying to figure out how you actually died.

Your car was then relocated, possibly going into evidence or to your parents who had filed you missing within two days of not hearing from you. When authorities questioned them, asking what business you had being there, they immediately brought up Xavier Plympton.

They found no substances in your system, obviously. Your injuries weren't deadly, so suicide was immediately ruled out. It brought some comfort to your parents, though. Your mom knew how distressed you were about Xavier, but the knowledge that a monster took you away stuck with them.

Eventually, Richard Ramirez was finally caught. Now that his count was to fifteen, he had no trouble admitting that he was the one who killed you. Though it was a freak incident, he took credit much to the horror of your parents and the family of the victims. Richard would eventually die in prison from cancer.

Your apartment was cleaned out, everything going to auction, or with your parents or the Plympton family. A framed photo of you and him was now hanging in your parent's house. They didn't just lose a daughter, they also lost a son.

You guys had known each other for years. The birthday parties, sleepovers, school plays, eventually going to homecoming dances together, (though Xavier had better things to do, he went because you did). Your mother wiped her tears, thinking of the more innocent times as they lowered your body into the ground.

-

December 1985

Your body slowly stretched as you woke up, yawning loudly. Your eyes were crusty, and you wiped at them with a slight grimace.

Your memory had been a little foggy, but as you sat up, you remembered where you were. You visited Camp Redwood in June, to see Xavier. He showed up, somehow, and then-

You slowly ran a hand down your torso, before feeling your legs that were clad in shorts. There were no cuts, no bruises, nothing as you started to observe your body. You knew you had died, and now you came back as a ghost?

You sat up and went to a dusty mirror, your hands touching your face. You looked flawless; any blemish, freckle, anything you hated was gone. It was like passing over made you into your most beautiful self, and it confused you.

You lightly smacked yourself in the face, seeing you could still feel pain. Your knuckles cracked when you flexed them, and your hair was silkier than ever. You looked and felt entirely human.

"This is crazy," you mumbled to yourself. Did everybody else react like this when they came back?

Since the sun was out, you decided to venture out. The air was crisp, telling you it had to be Fall, at least. Los Angeles never got cold, just a little nippy during the Fall and Winter seasons. You wondered why you woke up wearing shorts, but the long-sleeved top you wore (did you buy this in Heaven?) kept you warm. It was a plum purple, and it looked lovely on you.

You were hoping to run into somebody, just to feel like you weren't alone anymore. The last few months in what seemed like a dark, cold chamber left you isolated. You just wanted human interaction.

You remembered the others, Chet, Ray, Montana, Pornstache? You thought about calling their names, knowing they were around somewhere. You were anxious to see Xavier again, you remembered his words to you right before you died.

Even if you guys had the rest of eternity, you were dead. It was weird to think about.

"Hello?" You called your voice bored. "Somebody? Any help will be appreciated!"

Crickets.

You huffed, continuing on your trek until the sound of a twig snapping caught your attention. You looked around, the last time this happened, the Night Stalker abducted you. You still didn't see anything.

"Ray? Montana? Chet? The guy with the porno mustache?" You asked, refusing to step into the woods.

"Did you forget about me already, babe?"

Xavier poked his head from behind a tree, giving you a cheeky grin. You smiled at him, feeling as if an electric current was madly sparking between you two. He took a quick moment to observe how bright you looked, how beautiful you were. The past six months of endlessly waiting were finally here.

You were home.

You wished you could say the reunion was perfect, but you nearly stumbled into him as you overlooked a small hole in the ground. Xavier caught you, holding you up as the two of you giggled.

"I'm sorry!" You gasped, your hands fisting his now white shirt. He shook his head, cupping the back of your head and allowing your face to hide in his neck.

"I don't care, y/n, I'm just happy you finally came back to me," he whispered.

Xavier really didn't mean to say that last part out loud. His cheeks turned red as you looked up at him, your hands cupping his face as you smiled. His blue eyes were uncertain as they glanced from your eyes to your lips.

"I love you, Xavier Plympton," you stated proudly, loving the comical way his eyes widened. "I've loved you for so many years,"

Xavier's tear ducts were a work of art as he struggled not to cry. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid when we were alive, to tell you how I really feel,"

You nodded, "I was stupid too, Xav," his cheeks warmed up at your nickname. "I guess we have eternity now, huh?"

"You better believe it, babe," he said before he smashed his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise, squealing like a little girl in your head.

Your first kiss with Xavier was the best kiss you'd ever had. Even in death, he was a total babe.

It was quite a sight, the two of you making out in a wooded area. Xavier's hands stayed above your hips, running along your back, eventually sliding up your side to wrap his hands around your neck, just feeling you.

"GET A ROOM!"

You jumped from Xavier, but he didn't seem surprised. You hadn't had the chance to perfect the powers you now had as a ghost, but Xavier felt their presence before they even turned the corner. You hid your face from them, burying your head in his shirt.

After that steamy session, Xavier had a permanent smirk on his face.

"Well, I never thought I'd say this, but it's going to be nice to have another lady around here," Montana sighed, her arms crossed over her chest. The others were all smiling at the sight of you and Xavier.

"At least one of us can get laid around here," Chet mumbled. You gave him a surprised look, this time your cheeks becoming cherry red.

"My name is Trevor, if it doesn't work out with Plympton, I'm your man," he said, joking more than anything. Xavier glared at him, squeezing you tighter.

".. Joking," Trevor mumbled.

"How do you feel?" Ray asked, kindly.

You smiled a little, shrugging, "It kind of feels like I'm still alive,"

Montana grinned, the first time she really seemed genuine with you, "It's great, isn't it?" 

"Is it still 1985?" You asked, and they nodded.

"Almost into the new year, actually," Xavier said, "They need to restore the power out here, give us a chance to have a New Years' kiss," he said, ignoring the fake gags and whistles coming from the others. 

You gently nudged him in the belly, smiling at him. 

"Well, I guess it's time we show you how things work around here, y/n," Montana said, stepping forward. She yanked you from Xavier's grip, poking her tongue out at him when he pouted. "It will be fine, come on," she said, dragging you along. 

Maybe being dead wasn't that bad.

*if I missed anyone, please let me know! if you want to be added to my taglist, you know the drill. only one part left!*

taglist: @thexmancometh​ @the-walking-daryl​ @trichy-knitts​ @shydragonrider​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​ @lemonwhiskers​ @jetblackpayne​ @langdonsvcrd​ @okoktrinity22​ @uwonman​  @stefanmikaleson1864​ @sevenwonderwitch​ @rubbrninja

[littlemisswolfie]

A Midnight Run

AO3

The woods are dark, this late at night. Sam knows the moon above her is full, but its light is hidden behind the leaves of the trees looming over her. Her legs burn from the force of her feet pounding over the grass and dirt, and her lungs ache with all the air they’re pulling in and pushing out as she runs, but she can’t stop running. Not now. Not yet.

A few hundred yards to her left, someone yelps and something else growls. Heart pounding, Sam veers right and pounds her legs harder. She thinks that was Tucker. That means she’s the last one standing. The realization sends a shot of adrenaline through her system.

He wants a chase? she thinks. I’ll give him a chase.

There’s a creek nearby. Maybe she can hide her scent if she runs through it. That’s his primary means of tracking, after all. She has a chance if she can take away his sense of smell. If only she hadn’t left her bag in the truck; she has all sorts of nifty plants in there she could have used.

But there’s no use dwelling on that now. She has to keep moving.

The sound of running water hits her ears. She’s close to the creek. The ground is uneven here, and though all she wants is to sprint to the water, she has to take it slow. Tripping and falling would make too much noise, and then all hopes of escape would be dashed. And she refuses to let him win this time.

Her boots hit the creek with a splash. She bends at the waist to scoop water up and wet her face and arms as well. The water is freezing, but she can deal. In a few minutes, she’ll either be back in the warm truck, or she’ll be caught. Either way, she won’t be cold for long.

She backtracks a little to muddle the scent before taking off again. Sam knows these woods as well as she knows her bedroom by now, and she doesn’t need light to navigate. If she can make it back to the big pine tree they parked the truck by, she’s home free. Getting to the tree means the chase is over. And it’s less than a quarter mile away.

She takes one more deep breath to steel herself before she runs. She runs faster than she’s ever run in her life. Hell, she could outrun Dash Baxter. She’ll run as hard as it takes to get her to that tree. Because the tree means she wins.

She can just see the trunk of the tree when a twig snaps behind her. Her spine goes hot, burning white like a supernova, and that’s all the warning she gets before she’s being tackled to the ground. A hand comes up to keep her head from hitting the ground, but the rest of her body absorbs the shock, and suddenly there’s something heavy and warm over her, and a set of teeth pressing at her throat. Not biting, but the threat is there in the points of the fangs. “Gotcha.”

She groans, irritated, but rolls her head to the side in submission. “Only because you won’t let me use any of my herbs, you ass. Not all of us have night vision and super speed like you do.”

Danny chuckles, the sound much darker than it is during the day. Suddenly, Sam finds herself shivering from something other than the cold. “Are you, Sam Manson, saying you need help to beat me at something?”

“You wish.” She puts her palms against his chest, feeling fur where his shirt is ripped, and nudges, and he sits back without protest, though he’s still straddling her hips. She can’t see much of him in the low light, but she knows he can see her, so she wipes at her face to get some of the dirt off. Sam never used to be so aware of her appearance. In fact, she openly mocked girls like Paulina and Star who were so obsessed with their looks.

But that was before Danny changed.

They’re still not sure how, exactly, the change happened. It wasn’t like he was bitten or anything. It was probably something they messed with in his parents’ lab last September, but they’ll never be sure, now. What matters is that Danny isn’t human anymore. Sam can’t see him now, but she’s seen him often enough in the past few months to know exactly what he looks like. His body is larger, taller, more muscular. Black fur sprouts from his skin. His nails are sharper, more claw-like. His ears have moved to the top of his head, now pointed and fuzzy. And his eyes, usually the color of the sky on a clear day, are like liquid mercury—silver and burning.

“Now that you have me,” Sam says with a quirked eyebrow, “what are you going to do with me?”

Danny growls low in his throat at the obvious provocation and dives in, slanting his lips over Sam’s in a heated kiss. His hands, large and hot, grab her wrists and pin them above her head. She moans into the kiss, and though she very much enjoys his weight on top of her, she wishes she could wrap her legs around him to hold him to her.  But when Danny’s like this, more wolf than man, he has to be in control. He has to have the leverage. “Part of the curse,” he’d grumbled once. “The wolf would rather die than submit.”

Lucky for them, Sam found herself more than happy to submit, if only to Danny.

“Tucker?” Sam asks when Danny pulls back to let her breathe.

Danny leans down to kiss and lick his way down her neck. “He went back to the truck to watch our phones. The woods are all ours.”

Good enough for Sam. She cranes her neck up to kiss Danny again, and he releases her hands so his can nudge her jacket away. “Next run,” he says against her lips, “try shedding some layers. It muddles your scent.”

“Giving me advice now, wolf boy?” Sam asks, trying to pretend he’s not leaving her breathless.

His fingers work their way under her tee shirt and brush against her belly. “Yes. The sooner you get away, the sooner you’ll let me mark you.”

One of Danny’s many new instincts is the drive to claim anything that’s his. In the day to day, he does it in both human and animalistic ways. He writes his name on the tag of all his clothes and scribbles on the covers of all his notebooks and he has a million decals on his cherry red motorcycle. He’s constantly touching Sam and Tucker at school, and he’s scent marked them at least once a day since their first run in with Skulker, a rival alpha who thought Danny would be easy pickings when he first changed. He’s drawn the line at peeing on things, thank god, but the one way Sam hasn’t let him claim her yet is by marking her.

Marking is permanent. Danny marking her would result in a bruise that would basically telegraph “Mate of Danny Fenton” to any supernatural creature in the immediate vicinity. And it’s not that Sam isn’t ready for that commitment—she’s been in love with Danny for years—but she refuses to be a damsel in distress any time some hunter or rival supernatural wants to get one over on Danny. So Sam decided she would refuse his mark until she could get away from him on a full moon on her own merit. If she can outrun a werewolf on his own turf at the time he’s at his strongest, she can do anything.

And Danny, the wonderful guy that he is, respects her decision, and he never holds back.

Just like he doesn’t hold back now.

Forty-five minutes later, they return to the truck. It’s Sam’s truck, a sixteenth birthday gift from her grandmother, and it’s the group’s primary form of transportation aside from Danny’s motorcycle. Tucker’s sitting in the passenger seat, blaring Ember’s new album over the Bluetooth radio, and he gives him an impressive eye roll when he sees their rumpled clothes and tangled hair. “Next month,” he says when they’re situated in the cab, Sam on the hump and Danny behind the wheel, “I’m asking Ember to come, too.”

“She’s gonna be in Mexico on her tour next month,” Danny reminds him.

“Damn.”

Sam leans her head on his shoulder. “Buck up. Maybe I’ll get away next month.”

“You guys will just be even worse if you do.”

Neither of them brings up the option of Tucker simply not coming at all next month. Danny wouldn’t stand for it. He needs them both on full moon nights. No exceptions.

Danny puts the truck into drive.

Tucker gets dropped off first, and Danny, as he always does, waits until he’s safely climbed the fire escape up to his window before driving away. Sam could move over to the passenger seat, but that would mean moving away from Danny, so she stays put until they get to her house.

They climb out of the truck and Danny cups her face with his hands and pulls her up for one last kiss. “Text me when you get home,” she tells him, even though he’s probably the most dangerous thing in Amity Park, at least for the moment.

“I will,” be promises, laying his forehead against hers. “I love you, Sam.”

Butterflies explode in her belly. “Love you, too.”

She feels Danny’s eyes on her as she clambers up the flower trellis leading to her window, and when she’s safely inside, it’s her turn to watch, silent, as he lopes off into the night.