#my live screaming is back again on your dash

[xhanisai]

IT DO BE HIM AND HER AGAINST THE WORLDF

[gutsby]

Ruined!

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.

Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.

Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse

Surely he was hurting you now.

Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.

At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.

He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.

Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:

“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”

Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.

Crying, too.

Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.

“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”

Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.

Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.

Almost.

He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.

Almost.

“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”

And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.

“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.

Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.

Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.

He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.

“SON OF A—”

“—good girl.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.

“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.

“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.

“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”

Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.

“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.

Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,

“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”

You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.

“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”

Probably forever.

“Good.”

You knew he liked it that way.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.

“Shit,” you whimpered.

Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.

“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.

Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.

“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.

His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.

And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.

“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”

It was.

More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.

He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’

Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.

[munsster]

Hi I just read fixer user and I loved it! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 💖💖

an act of true love

A/N: (your pfp made me scream and curl my toes) an unexpected amount of ppl rlly enjoyed this dynamic. i suppose i have found my people 🤭 (gif creds: @kingofscoops)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: In the dead of winter, there’s absolutely nothing that could keep you warm. After all, only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), mention of toxic ex boyfriend, cursing, gross flirting

Steve can hear you shivering through the receiver and your stuttered breaths crackling through the cord. You’re begging him to come over and fix your radiator in the middle of a snow storm. The roads aren’t closed yet, but a thin white powder blankets his front lawn and the top of his beemer and he can see the flakes whipping through the stream of light pouring from the streetlamp. So, he piles every blanket he has into his passenger seat and braves the drive to your house.

Does he know how to repair a busted radiator? No.

Is he determined to do anything you require of him? Every single day for the rest of his life.

He’s crouched by the window of your living room, looking for any telltale signs of wear or leaking. You’re standing just behind him, bundled in two blankets and holding a spare flashlight. He’s quiet as he tinkers, but your mind is racing watching his soft toned arms through his cream thermal and his back muscles working when he turns over his shoulder to glance at you with a dashing smile. You nod quickly when he says something, though you’re not exactly sure what.

“Sweetheart?” he coos, raising his brows when you recoil under his gaze.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I wasn’t listening,” you say with a chuckle. He grins, dropping his head in understanding.

“Sorry, I know it’s boring,” he says, “but has it been making noises or anything?”

“Oh, yeah! It kinda groans when I first turn it on and it sounds like it might explode for the first couple minutes. I guess I’ve tuned it out by now.”

“That’s probably not a good sound then,” he teases, turning back to the radiator with a puzzled look.

“No, probably not.” You shuffle off to the kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove and humming softly.

After half an hour of tinkering and a roll of tape, Steve stands and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“That should do it! It’ll probably take a sec to heat up again,” he sighs, and you emerge from the kitchen, balancing two hefty mugs brimming with whipped cream. “Ooh, what’s this?”

“Hot cocoa. Secret family recipe,” you tease. In actuality, it’s just the standard package of chocolate powder and sugar. The secret lies in the healthy dash of cinnamon you mix into it.

“Secret, eh? Guess that gives me a reason to come see you more often,” he hums, following you to the couch and taking one of the mugs from your hands. It warms him up nicely, and he knows you gave him the bigger mug on purpose when you smile triumphantly. He takes a sip, moaning at the sweetness. You giggle at the whipped cream kissing his top lip.

“I hope I’m reason enough,” you say with a faux pout. He sits close enough to share the pile of blankets with you, your thighs pressed against one another in the captured heat.

“Duh, you’re the main attraction,” he huffs, “Your hot chocolate is like the flashy side show. It’s pretty neat but not quite as cool as the reason you bought the ticket.”

You giggle into your mug, face hot in the bellowing steam. Or because of his dimpled cheeks. Or the way his eyes swoop over your face. Or maybe the way he came rushing to your rescue in a storm without a second thought.

“Any new Brad-related developments? Or is he still giving you shit?” he says, swallowing a warm gulp of liquid chocolate.

You groan, head lulling back against the couch. “He keeps calling to say I’m a cold hearted bitch and then immediately hang up. I think he forgot that he’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Right, right. Why’s that again?”

“Something about his family’s values. And how he hates my friends,” you say, “I just remember getting mad because he seemed so jealous and mistrusting. Honestly, in hindsight, he was really childish about the whole thing.”

You shrug it off, but it snaps his heart in two all over again. He doesn’t even want to know the gorey details because he knows it’ll boil his blood. Just knowing that asshole said something like that to you makes his fists ball up in frustration. But he thinks of what you said. What did Brad have to be jealous about; he had the entire world and Steve never bat an eye. Not to you, at least.

“Jealous?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, he’d give me all these ultimatums where I’d have to choose between you and him. So random,” you huff. Though, maybe he was justified in some way. You and Steve have been this close since the day you met. Any love interest would feel threatened by his charm and that smile.

“Oh… weird”—He watches you take a cautious sip from your mug like maybe you regret saying anything at all—“Yeah. That’s random. Had no idea I posed such a threat to that guy. He seemed so… self-assured.”

You stare blankly, shrugging when you mutter, “you can call him a narcissistic prick, i don't care. And yeah, I was kinda surprised the first time he brought it up, because a big part of why I was attracted to him was for his confidence” you chuckle, “No idea what went wrong!

Steve absentmindedly squares his shoulders, sitting up straught on the plush cushions trying to make himself look strong and reliable and confident. You sip your hot chocolate and look at him funny.

“Are you okay?” you say, holding in a laugh.

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I’m just super confident ‘s all.”

You snort, choking on the sip you’d sucked down, pinching your eyes closed when he lurches forward with a worried look slapped across his face.

“Shit, here, let me help,” he huffs, setting his mug aside and wiping the drips from your chin with his sleeve, “Oh, god, are you hurt???”

You cackle with tears pricking in your eyes when he carefully takes your mug and places it next to his. You pat dry your neck, and he watches you softly.

“Stevie, you’re so sweet.”

His heart flutters in his warm chest when you smile at him.

“Well, I dunno about that.”

“No, seriously. You’re so caring and thoughtful, I’ve never met anyone like you,” you whisper.

He takes a shaky breath in.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nod heartily and grin wide, and you notice he’s staring at you. So you kick his calf under the blanket.

“Hey, ouch!”

You giggle, but he’s quick to grab the crook of your knee and tug you close so you’re laying flat on the couch. Your hands cover your face when he tickles your sides and leans over you playfully. He’s almost glad you can’t see him blushing or feel his heart racing or hear his head booming with thoughts of you. He gasps when you plant your socked foot on his thigh, but he holds your elbow gently to keep you close to him while he leans over you.

You’re laughing, and he can confidently say it’s his favorite sound. You palm his chest, and he takes a deep breath in. Your eyes flick open because you’ve never felt someones heart beat so fast and so warm just beneath your fingertips. He’s flushed and pink but he looks like a prince in the orange lamplight. And he’s so close to you.

Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, barely grasping, and you crane your neck towards him. You watch his honey eyes draw over your lips just before he leans in and kisses you.

His hand molds into your side, melting over the exposed skin like hot syrup. You press into his hold and smile with your fingers drawing up and across the back of his neck.

But the kiss short lived when he pulls away, shoving a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve huffs, standing and backing away, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should go!”

He crosses the floor in a daze, forcing his feet back into his shoes before you even can sit up and call after him.

“Steve, wait!”

But he’s shaking his head and reaching for the ice cold door handle with his jacket barely slung over his shoulders. He whips the door open, and you can see the pure white snow floating down in sheets outside.

“Keep the blankets! Just call me if the radiator breaks again, and I’ll see you!”

The door slams shut.

You tut, hand coming to your lips as you look around at the scene before you. The abandoned mugs on the coffee table, his blankets folded over the back of the couch, your repaired radiator whirring softly in the corner. The absence of Steve. What would the kids say. You know they’d lose it, but would they be upset if you ended up together. Would they realize they changed their minds and you’d jeopardized not only your friendship with Steve but with the entire party.

What if everything changes?

Oh, but what if nothing changes: you and Steve tip toeing around each other, the kids scheming and giggling at your misfortune, but now changed by the fact that you’ve kissed Steve. And he kissed you back. And you like him so much.

"Oh, god.”

more like this

masterlist

[cher-rei]

hopelessly obliviously devoted to you [ T.A.A ]

"but baby can't you see? I'm hopelessly devoted to you" [hopelessly devoted to you- olivia newton john]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: when your best friend needs some moral support for her date, you don't hesitate to ask trent for some help. but something else sparks that evening instead

[wc: 2.8k]

genre(s): fluff, idiots in love, denial is a river in egypt

notes: call me capser with the way that I ghost.

"I need your help."

you didn't look up from your phone and continued to aimlessly scroll, hoping that if you avoided eye contact with your friend mia, then she would leave you be.

however, she didn't leave and stood in front of you in your living room, her hands on her hips with a look that screamed "I know what you're doing and it's not going to work".

you could feel her glare boring into your forehead, but you tried your best to persist but you were weaker than you thought. a heavy groan left your lips and she smiled in victory but you knew what you were getting yourself into.

you looked up at her with pursed lips. "I'm not lying to anyone again, or pretending to be your doctor so that you can stay out of work, or--"

"woah, okay." mia waved her hands in front of her in urge for you to stop, a shameful blush flushing her cheeks at the list of things you'd "helped" her with before. your eyebrows raised as she promised that it was nothing of that kind, and that you barely had to do anything.

you nodded in intrigue and she continued with a hopeful smile. "I have a date on friday."

your stomach dropped. "with dean right?"

mia and dean had only been seeing each other for about a month now but it was going well, so you were hoping that she wasn't about to ask you to tell him that she died or something. but to your surprise she said that she liked him a lot, and intended to see where it lead her.

"and you need my help with this how?" you asked with a quirked eyebrow. mia then took a seat next to you and placed her hand on top of yours, a pleading look in her eyes as you mentally prepared yourself for her answer.

she gave your hand a tight squeeze. "we're going to the arcade and I'm really nervous because you know that's not really my scene. so I was wondering if you could tag along and just ease my mind a little?"

just as you were about to interject and refuse the invitation to third wheel the entire evening, mia pulled you back down with a look of utter desperation.

"you can bring trent or something since you two are like--" she made a gesture in the air with her hands. "--like whatever you two are."

if there was something that you hated talking about, then it was that you and trent had a thing for each other. which wasn't true at all! you'd known each other for a while now, about 4 years, and you admit that you were close but nothing special.

"literally everyone can see it except you two oblivious idiots," mia spewed, which took you by surprise. you were just about to agree to her idea of tagging along and she decided to be a little brat.

that's when you made your dash out of the living room, yours and mia's voices sounding over each other as one apologised and the other screamed to block them out.

"I can't hear you!! la la la!"

you ended up going to the arcade.

trent didn't hesitate with his answer either, despite that he wasn't too fond of being around new people which surprised you. his excuse was that you hadn't gone to the arcade in a while anyway, so it would be doing you a favour.

when mia heard the news, she was ecstatic, to say the least, and rushed off to tell dean that you'd be tagging along. so now here you were, in your room, tidying up your outfit while waiting for trent to come and pick you up.

dean and mia left a while ago because they had dinner plans before the arcade, but you made it clear that you and trent would not be joining for the formal stuff.

yname added to their story

it wasn't long before you heard your apartment door open, meaning that trent had arrived. a small smile tugged at your lips as you grabbed your bag from your bed and left to the lounge where he was, a look of surprise on his face.

"where are the cameras?" he asked suddenly and started looking around, lifting the pillows from the couch before looking back at you with a look of mock disbelief.

your eyebrows furrowed at his absurd question. "what are you talking about?"

he took out his phone and pointed towards the time on the screen. "you're actually ready on time for the first time in years."

your jaw clenched at his comment, a flush of red rushing to your cheeks as you threw your handbag at him. "shut up and get in the car. I can't believe I said yes to this."

a hum left his lips as he locked the door behind him, listening to you complain all the way to the car. you didn't notice it, but this was one of those moments where mia would sit back and watch the two of you in slight disappointment and hope.

she would sit in the back seat of the car and watch as trent's attention stayed on you whenever you spoke, a flicker of something lingering in his eyes and on his tongue. mia would notice the effortless gestures between the two of you, such as trent holding the car door open for you no matter the circumstance, the occasional buckle of your seat belt if your hands were full.

how you would mindlessly cling to his side or interlock your arm in his wherever you were. there were always the flirtatious comments that were thrown around but neither of you showed any reaction that wasn't irritation.

it was so obvious to her. so obvious that either of you would always think of each other first before anything or anyone else.

when you arrived at the mall, it was no later than 6 p.m but the mall was already packed with teenagers and family's who couldn't have waited until saturday to enjoy their lives. you took a deep breath and followed trent inside, banter firing back and forth as you tried to find mia and dean.

"we're in the food court and they're not here," you said exasperated and dialed mia's number so you could call her.

trent forced a smile, "well how about you try and look instead of standing in one spot."

that earned a glare from your side, and before you could argue back mia's voice sounded from behind you, to which you mouthed a proud "told you so".

just from the looks of it, mia could tell that this was going to be a long night.

after the introductions were over, the four of you leisurely made your way to the arcade on the 3rd floor of the mall. laughter and excitement boomed from inside and you couldn't help but be a bit giddier than you expected.

there was a skip in your step as you trailed in front of the others, commenting on how it's been forever since you'd been to an arcade— just as trent said. mia and dean walked hand in hand beside trent, who wasn't bothered with trying to hide his smile as he watched you.

you turned around to look at them. "you guys are walking like a bunch of old people hurry up."

dean chuckled at your quip while mia rolled her eyes instead. "I thought you said you didn't want to come to the arcade."

a dramatic gasp left trent's mouth. "she would never. arcades bring back so many memories for us."

a lump formed in your throat when he said that, your heartbeat speeding up at the memory of the incident less than a year ago. the two of you swore never to talk about it again, but you couldn't deny that ever since that evening something between you two shifted.

you were brought back from your daze by the gentle touch of trent's hand on the small of your back. "I'll promise to let you win this time though."

with that, he dragged you off to the token station, leaving behind a very confused dean and a fed-up mia. "I thought you said that they're not together?" dean muttered loud enough for his girlfriend to hear and she clicked her tongue.

"they're not."

40 minutes passed and you and trent were back at it again. it was two completely different sights for the people in the arcade. on one hand, dean and mia were at one claaw machine, giggling and gently guiding each other the best they could to successfully grab the plushy.

and then there was you and trent right beside them at the other claw machine. to say that you were screaming at each other would be an understatement, the both of you swearing that the other wasn't going to get it in, shoving each other at the side to take over.

"no, not that one!" you screamed as you watched trent move the claw with indescribable concentration to find the correct ninja turtle plushy. "mikey is the one with the orange mask!"

a stressed huff left trent's lips. "baby, I can get you a private meet-up with mbappe instead! it's practically the same thing!"

you didn't register the term of endearment at all and instead continued to whine about the plushy until he finally got it. 5 attempts later. but it was done and it was worth it to see you smile that beautifully.

you looked up at him and nudged his arm. "you see. that wasn't too difficult."

he shook his head in disagreement and took your hand into yours again to drag you over to the basketball machine. "you owe me for that later."

you brushed his comment off with a scoff, not thinking much of it.

the evening continued and you couldn't deny that it was the most fun you've had in a while. that and trent had become way more touchy than usual. were you complaining though? hell no.

the basketball machine was one thing but then you stumbled across the photo booth at the back of the arcade, which was surprisingly empty. you tried your best to walk past it as quickly as possible but he spotted it, and you knew what was coming.

a cheeky smile drew to his lips. "I'd like to cash in that favour now."

no. that was your answer, plain and simple. not after what happened last time you were in there. the memory alone was enough to have you feeling lightheaded.

the embarrassed look on your face didn't go unnoticed, and that made him chuckle a bit. it took you a bit of convincing and to no one's surprise, you found yourself on the right side of the photo booth with trent sitting beside you closing this curtain.

"talk about deja vu," he said jokingly which earned him a slap on the arm, out of embarrassment more than anything else.

nevertheless, you shook off your nerves and got on with it. it was just a few pictures, what's the worst that could happen?

the pictures started normally, just as playful and cute as you'd hoped and the photobooth was echoing with laughter and banter as usual, that was until you turned to look at trent only to realise just how close you were.

it went quiet for a moment, and before you knew it your lips were on his. now this was deja vu. he knew exactly what he was doing when he said that you should take these pictures and you weren't any smarter to say no.

the featherlight touch of his fingers beneath your shirt was the reason you pulled away. unlike your bashful expression, trent was smiling from ear to ear.

"okay, now that was on you," he said playfully and you groaned. "last year it was me, I admit that, but this time you kissed me."

your words were lodged in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, or move, or anything really. the heat that was on your cheeks spread throughout your entire body and all you wanted to do was hide in a hole.

after a moment of recollection, you were met with a look of anticipation from trent who was waiting for you to say something. you sighed and nodded your head, "yeah, this one was on me."

"yes!" he clapped in victory and took the two photo strips, and took the one where you were kissing for himself.

before you could interject, his lips met your again for a peck. "I'm glad the feeling is mutual. let's hurry back to my house, I need to explore these new found feelings of ours with a little more space than a photobooth."

hopeless. you were utterly hopeless as you found yourself trying to suppress your smile, and the sound of mia saying, "oblivious is in understatement."

yname added to their story

[wandaslittlebird]

i had a thought of where wanda / step mom wanda comforts reader after a bad day and a lot angst and fluff too

Fairytale

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, themes of depression, spoilers for the Disney movie Tangled (??)

Word Count: 2k (whoops this was supposed to be a drabble. Whatever.)

A/N: Thank you for the request! This takes place when R was 18 before she left for school, so a prequel to the main story.

A/N: This is far from my best work, but I still had kinda a cute idea.

It was pouring when you finally got home from work. You walked into the house in your uniform, soaked from the rain.

You saw Wanda in the kitchen, fixing dinner. She’s a wonderful cook, but in your current state the food made your stomach turn. You felt nauseous. You hadn’t eaten all day at work, but you still couldn’t imagine eating anything.

Your dad was at the table reading a newspaper. He didn’t acknowledge you’d come home.

“Hey, little love!” Wanda chimed excitedly, but her face falls when her eyes meet yours. You looked terrible, eyes sunken in, dark with exhaustion. You couldn’t even bring yourself to give her a smile. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You didn’t respond, trying to escape to the privacy of your bedroom before the emotions of the day spilled out of you. You dashed up the stairs.

Your dad set down his newspaper with a frustrated thud. He moved to get up and reprimand you for ignoring your stepmother, but Wanda stopped him.

“Vis, you just make sure my pasta doesn’t burn. I’ll take care of it.”

————

She found you in your room, curled up in the center of the bed. You were still wearing your wet and dirty work clothes, but you’d thrown on one of Wanda’s hoodie. It practically swallowed you with how big it was. The sight melted Wanda’s heart.

“Sweetheart?” She called into the room. You turned over in bed, hiding your face in the hoodie. She came to sit next to on the bed, rubbing gentle circles on the back you’d turned on her. She could feel then that you were crying. You were silent, but she could feel the erratic way you were breathing as your chest heaved. “What’s wrong, baby? It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s got you honey. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know,” you cried weakly. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s just… everyday is like this. I just wake up with this feeling of despair, and then I go to work and everything is so loud and there’s too many smells and I have to pretend to be happy while I make everyone’s coffee, but I’m just so so tired. I feel like my mind and body are screaming and crying for someone to help me, but this is just my life and no one is coming to save me.”

Wanda pulled you into her lap, not caring that you were still soaking wet. She shushed your cries and rocked you back and forth, letting you ramble and sob into her arms. She tucked your wet hair under her chin, pulling you to her chest so you could feel the gentle beating of her heart. “Shhshsh, let it all out honey. You’re home now. Mama’s got you.”

“All I can do is escape to this white knight fairytale where things are different, and I have friends again, and I don’t have to go on like this. But I’m just being repeatedly ripped out of that fairytale and pulled back into this awful reality I have no choice but to live in. I’m a high school drop out, all my friends left me, I hate my job but I’m just going to hate any job that takes up so much of my time. I can pretend all I want that things are or will be different but this is real life and I’m miserable! I’m miserable and I’m going to be like this until I die!” You sobbed, breathlessly heaving into Wanda’s chest.

Wanda felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. She wished she could be your white knight, take you somewhere far away where you didn’t have to worry about all of the awful things happening in your life. She couldn’t imagine what your situation must feel like right now, hopelessly trying to claw your way out of a well you’re stuck at the bottom of. There were things she was working with you on. You were going to get your GED at the end of the year, but it was still going to be another year before you could even start applying to colleges. The road was going to be long, but she was confident you’d pull through.

That wasn’t what you needed right now, though. You didn’t need to hear her say that just maybe, in a whole two years, you might be able to get your life back on track. You needed something now. You needed something to get you through the night.

“How about this,” she proposed, holding your teary face in her hands. “You take a nice warm shower and get all nice and clean while I go downstairs and finish dinner for your dad and the boys. And then I’ll come back up here with some mac and cheese and some chicken nuggets and we have a special girls’ night?”

You sniffled hesitantly, unsure if you could handle it all: the shower, the food, the company. But in the end, you nodded. Your only other option was to sit in here, alone, withering away in your cold work uniform.

“That’s my sweet girl,” she cooed, pinching you lightly on the cheek. “I’ll pick out some pjs for you and get your water running. One step at a time, angel. I know it’s hard, but you can do this.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and walked off to start your shower.

It felt insurmountable, but you got up, washed yourself off in the shower, and dried off before putting on the pajamas Wanda set out for you. On top, there was a fresh one of her sweatshirts for you to wear. You threw it on, inhaling her sweet scent with your arms up to your nose. You made your way back into your bedroom.

Within five minutes of you getting back, Wanda came knocking on your door with some mac and cheese and microwave chicken nuggets. Your stomach turned at the sight of the food. Even your safest meal felt nauseating.

“I know you don’t wanna eat, love, but you’ve gotta try and eat at least a little bit for me, okay? We’ll start with two nuggets and half of the mac and cheese,” she says.

You nodded, reluctantly taking the plate and working on your mac and cheese.

“Now, I think it’s time for a movie and some cuddles, don’t you think?” Wanda asked, already setting up the pillows and blankets on the bed. “What would you like to watch?”

You shrugged, unable to think of anything helpful while fighting your stomach for cooperation. “You pick.”

Wanda gave you a soft smile of understanding. She understood the inability to make a decision, and she was more than happy to make one in your stead. She ended up putting Tangled on the small tv in your room.

She sat against your headboard, legs spread and tapped the space in between, welcoming you to sit. When you did, she threw your favorite blanket over your shoulders and set your favorite stuffed animal, Thomas, in your lap. You rested your chin on his head.

“Do you want me to braid your hair like Rapunzel’s?” She asked once you’d gotten to the hair brushing scene.

You buried your face into Thomas. “I-I didn’t wash it in the shower,” you admitted shamefully. It needed to be washed after being in the rain, but you were out of energy.

“That’s okay,” she assured without judgement, starting a French braid on your dirty, wet hair. “We’ll put some dry shampoo in it in the morning.” She braided your hair with you curled up between her legs, tying it off with a little pink ribbon.

“If I were Rapunzel, I’d let you climb up my hair,” you said when she finished, leaning back against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, giggling at your silly antidote and kissing the back of your head. “You would?”

You nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah. Not dad though.”

Wanda smiled and giggled again. “You just want your tower to be me and you? No one else?”

You shook your head. “Just me and mama, in our tower together.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Just you and mama in a tower, huh? I can definitely get behind that. What would we do in our tower all day?”

You shrugged. “You could braid my hair, and we could sings songs, read books together, paint the walls, snuggle in our bed. We could do whatever we wanted really.”

She smiled, noting that you had said ‘our bed’, implying your dream castle only had one bed for the two of you to share. “So they would be no one to stop me from doing this?” She turned your head with her hand and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You looked at her for just a moment before chasing her lips again. And again. And again.

She giggled. “Okay, honey. That’s enough.” She certainly didn’t mind the kisses, but she knew you’d spend the whole movie kissing her if she let you. And she still had plans.

You curled back up in her lap. Right. You were letting yourself get lost in fairytale again. You weren’t in a tower in the forest with no one else. You were in real life, with your father and step-brothers in the rooms surrounding you. Wanda wasn’t your handsome rogue, she was your stepmother. This wasn’t a quirky pairing between a theft and a princess. This was a disgustingly taboo relationship that would ostracize you from everyone in your life if they found out.

Wanda wrapped her arms back around you, pulling you close. “Hey, princess,” she said, kissing your temple. She sensed your discomfort and could immediately tell what you were thinking. She wanted to stay with you in this fairytale for just a little longer. It couldn’t be forever, of course, but you could play pretend, for now. “We don’t have to leave our tower just yet. We have until morning, just the two of us.”

“M-morning?” You asked. Wanda always had to leave early in the night. She had to go back her room so your dad wouldn’t get suspicious.

She stroked your hair, slicking back the frizzy hairs that escaped your braid. “I told your dad that you’re not feeling well and I was gonna stay in here tonight.” She pointed to the packed air mattress on the floor. She had no plans of sleeping on it, of course, but she needed to make the lie believable.

You looked at her with wide teary eyes, unable to believe she’d do such kind thing for you, even when the risk of it was so high. She just returned the look with a soft smile and redirected your attention to the movie.

The movie was nearing the end, specifically when they finally get to see the lanterns and light on of their own. Wanda leaned forward and kissed your neck, using her hand to direct your head up to the ceiling. She turned on the fairy lights that lined the ceiling. They’d been there since you were a teenager, but you never turned them on. Most days you forgot they were there. She turned them to a setting with a gentle twinkle.

You were so overcome with love, you flipped yourself around in her lap so you were straddling her legs and wrapping your arms loosely around her neck. You felt like your entire body was buzzing with electricity when she pulled you down by the back of your neck into a kiss. A real kiss this time, not just the pecks she was giving you earlier. You whimpered against her lips.

“Shh, angel,” she whispered against you, advising you to quiet down before she had to stop. You slipped your hands under the hem of her shirt, tugging on it in a silent request. “Sweetheart, we can’t…” she said sadly but firmly. There was no way she could fuck you while everyone else was still home, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I know,” you assured. “I don’t want to. Just let me feel you. Please.”

She looked in your pleading eyes, now twinkling in the fairy lights. She sighed. She couldn’t deny you anything. She slipped the shirt off over her head, leaving her bare under you.

You smiled, lying down on top of her and rubbing your face against her soft exposed skin. She smiled down at you, affectionately wrapping her arms around you to rub your back.

“I love you, mama,” you said, nuzzling your face into her chest with the first genuine smile you’ve had all day.

“I love you too, baby,” she said, squeezing you into her and kissing the top of your head. She couldn’t fix everything for you, but, when you needed it most, she could give you your fairytale.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How To Adapt To Fire (III)

AU MASTERLIST || THE FINAL PART

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, attempted murder, burns, needles, injuries, one dirty joke, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Running, the wind whips past your face with the force of a hurricane. 

The screams echoed over the abandoned neighborhood, leaking and rising as the illumination of a burning body sent slashing shadows along the remnants of houses. Flailing arms and sizzling flesh. It followed you as your feet slapped the concrete, satchel still at your side and your breath echoing in your ears. 

You don’t know where Duncan is—and you dare not look behind you as you dart into someone’s lawn, bee-lining away from Kurt’s now-silent inferno of burnt hair and cooking meat. Grass that grows up to your knees is shoved aside, broken down to the earth as your panting breath is too loud in your ears. It’s all you can hear now, which may be the worst part.

“Holy fuck,” your hiss under your breath, sweat dripping down your neck. Your hands were skinned in your little fall off the steps, but the sting as you slap your palm to the side of one of the houses is lost to you—pain doesn’t matter when adrenaline takes over. “Holy fuck.”

Your fingers drip crimson along the siding, but you’re gone again with ragged inhales, snapping eyes wide. You need to try and circle back for the car, you tell yourself. Patting your pockets for the hard pressure of your keys, you dash past a trash can and sigh when you feel them still there. 

And then you hear the whistling. 

It’s over the air, and in a skid of shoes, you halt and listen intently—a bird in the eyes of a fox. Lungs heaving, your head jerks around as a tune wafts up and pierces your ears. The sound echoes over the houses, flying across fallen roofs and peeling paint. You’re frozen, night corralling you in. 

“Who does this dude think he is?” You ask, a deep fear in your heart and an eerie feeling up your spine. 

It was getting closer. 

Heart stuttering, your legs take you up the back steps of a house to your left, hand snapping to the rusted handle and shoulder ramming into it. It gives way on the second shove, slamming into the far wall before you hit the ground and push on once more, the air gone from your body.

If Duncan can murder his own cousin in the way he had…what could he do to you?

Feet shuffling, your head moves quickly, taking in the decaying living room and joint kitchen—falling stairs that you instantly choose to run up, hands burning. 

Your only hope was the car; you needed to get to a vantage point, find out where Duncan was, and try to avoid him. It wasn’t any different than what you’d seen on TV…right? 

The wooden floor creaks like brittle bones, and you move across it while the scent of fire is still in your nose—gasoline and dead eyes. Your eyes go from one open door to another, beds covered with moth-eaten sheets. From outside of a broken window, you see shadows along the street; whistling. 

You choose a room at random and slink inside, hands already jerking into your satchel and pushing aside the active recorder—reaching for your phone. 

Looking between the window and the device, your dripping fingers slash through contacts until you can find the only one you think to call immediately. 

Smashing down on the green button, your phone is right at your ear as your heartbeat pulses like a drum. As it sits there, you gaze outside, panting with blood smearing along your flesh. You can’t stop thinking about Kurt—how you’d seen a man get burnt alive in front of you as if it were nothing. You’d heard and witnessed a lot of things and had been in more courtrooms than you can count…but nothing would ever top seeing the whites of a man’s eyes as his body erupted into flames. 

“Okay, okay,” the phone quivers, clothes ruffled. You hiss softly, not willing to make more noise than you have to. “C’mon, MacTavish.”

A long shadow looms in the streetlight and you drop to the floor swiftly, knees slamming the wood, just as the click on the line pushes through.

“Dearie,” the Scot’s teasing voice is a godsend. “Didn’t expect you to call so soon. Not that I—”

“I fucked up,” you breathe, and the fireman’s audible snapping of his mouth would have been comedic in any other situation. “I really fucked up, and I think I need a little intervention here before I literally go up in the flames of my ambition.”

You’re talking so fast you doubt he can even understand you, but you continue as your forehead peaks above the window frame. 

Duncan is at the house next to where you’re hiding. Standing out front with a gas can in his hand and a matchbox in the other. You watch with horrified eyes as he walks to the front porch, pours the accelerant, and steps back to light a match. 

“Oh,” you growl through a hurried gasp. “So now he decides to change M.O.”

The neighbor's home alights. 

He’s trying to corner you.

Johnny’s panicked voice wafts through. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Listen,” you watch the fire spread, hands spasming. “I was going to wait for you, alright. J-just then I decided to not do that and I—”

“What the fuck!” There’s fast movement on the other side of the line, seemingly paper and pencils hitting the floor as fast feet slam the ground. 

“It’s not my fault I’m a stubborn bitch!” You snap, moving your free hand to the back of your neck and rubbing along the sweat there, smearing crimson. “I can’t get back to the car right now and Duncan is lighting the entire neighborhood on fire to try and catch me. I have all of it on the recorder, and I can’t lose the evidence for the inevitable court case.”

Johnny’s voice is so serious and hard, you know you’ve never seen a side like this from him before. It’s nearly a growl. “I don’t give a shit about fucking evidence. Where are you?”

You rattle off Kurt’s address from memory, face streaked with light from the fire. It was going to spread to this house. The wood is like free food just waiting for it willingly; you have to move before it catches. With the condition of the home, it would only be kindling for a larger blaze ready to overtake the street. 

Johnny’s voice is heavy. “Stay where you are and—”

Your laugh is grim, and you move out of the room rapidly as the boom of falling wood makes the ground shake. Breath nothing more than a shaky jump in your nose, you push out, “Not an option.”

“What do you mean ‘not an option’ what the hell is going on over there?! I swear, I told you not to go without me!” 

“Bring the fire trucks! All of them!” You shout and hang up swiftly as Johnny’s loud call of your name is silenced. 

You’re halfway down the stairs when the back door you’d previously busted through creaks on its hinges. 

Above fire, above the pattering of your pulse, your eyes are stuck-still. Stationary. Stiff. 

Duncan stares at you—and you stare at him. 

It’s like time utterly stops, hit in the face by a metal pipe before its teeth get knocked to the ground in a clatter of white enamel. Shell-shocked. 

Your phone rings again—Johnny, no doubt, but when it does, Duncan pounces.

He tosses the gas canister to the ground, followed by a quick match as you curse and race back upstairs. The whoosh of flames bursts into existence as hard boots follow after you, hot on your heels. 

“Shit!” You yell, calling out a firm and fearful, “Duncan!” 

A hand swipes at your shirt collar before you duck and pivot, shifting to brace your feet and ram your shoulder backward. The man takes the force right to the chest and shouts, tilting on the steps with a flailing arm, fingers that card through the air. 

But you’re not quick enough in the rabid getaway. 

A hand latches onto your wrist, and then you’re being yanked down with him into the awaiting arms of the burning fire.

—

Johnny’s whole heart is more active than when he and you were stuck in the sheets together—arousal is nothing compared to the fear he feels. 

The man’s legs carry him quickly into the engine room, grabbing gear and sending out the alarm. Already calls were coming in from dispatch, worried civilians who had said they’d seen what appeared to be twin fires off into the more abandoned parts of the left-to-rot suburbs. 

His panic extends to the next country it’s so far-reaching. Your call—your voice—the things you’d told him and, worse, what you hadn’t. 

Why did you have to be so stubborn?

He needs to get to you, and he can’t breathe properly until he does.

It doesn’t take the firemen long to get into the trucks—the red demons rocketing out of the station with every blaring alarm at their disposal, and at every bump, Johnny’s stiff eyes glare openly at his lap. The others dare not say anything to him; they all know that look.

A man on the edge of a fraying line. Stuck on the knife—waiting for the final twist. 

With all of the gear, MacTavish could be compared to someone heading straight into war, and with the following wail of police sirens, maybe war was where he was always meant to be. Johnny fidgets, his fingers clenching and unclenching above the meat of his thighs, helmet on his head nothing but a weight of reminder. He was there to stop fires—he was there to put them out. 

But even God knew that the second his boots hit the ground, and the rest of the firemen were grabbing the hoses, he would be running into that inferno without a second glance backward. 

Johnny was born and bred from fire, and at the very end of it, the flames would take him back.  

Not yet, he’d say. Not until she’s safe. 

The Scot grabs the face-piece at his feet, fixes it over his visage, and listens to his own rabid breath echo back to him. It was louder than any other sound he’d ever heard.

The shaking of his fingers is a traitorous beast.

—

Dragging an arm over the ground, the first thing you do is cough through black smoke. 

Mind delirious, you blink rapidly, stinging eyes unwilling to stay open for long simply due to the spike of irritation—instinctual tears blurring the few moments of clarity to be offered.

You choke on nothing and burn through all of it. 

Flopping, you force your body up onto its hands and knees, the world tilting even then as palms drag and fingers dig. The second your tears slap your knuckles, a leg to your ribs is kicking you back down. 

Yelling in pain, you sprawl to your spine, body bouncing as the sound of fire eating away drywall and dead wood sizzle in your eardrums. Your skin is sweltering, and you can’t stop the flood of sweat dripping off your flesh—it nearly hurts.

Head shaking, wet hands grasp at your wrists forcing them back. 

“You could have left,” Duncan hisses above the waves of spreading fire. If you wanted to live, you had to get out now. The very bones of this house are threatening to buckle like the spine of an old man—visible rafters beginning to cave. Splintering wood. Creaking. “You could have stayed out of it!”

You yell, legs kicking out with the strength you can muster above the carbon monoxide coursing through your blood. Your muscles need oxygen. You need to breathe.

Your lungs are too tight.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Cursing, your body lashes, Duncan and yourself battling along the burning ground as the roof across the room caves in, sending ashes and a large tsunami of orange rolling ever upwards and a shockwave that gives a sliver of an opportunity. 

The both of you hiss, arms moving up to protect your faces. 

Your clothes are ruined—ripped; torn. You don’t even care about any of it. There’s a ferality to you now, a bleeding fear that far drowns even the blood of your skinned hands. As you’re trying to stand again, Duncan tries to barrel into you. 

“I warned you to stop looking into it!” He rages. “Look what you made me do! I killed Kurt because of you!”

You grapple for your satchel, his shadow nearly on top of you before your arms flex and spring like the trigger of a pistol. Swinging the bag back, you send it in an arch with your hands gripping the tough material. The heavy thump and grunt resonates quickly as you hack again, sirens just beginning in the distance totally lost to you. 

“Maybe,” you speak on smoke-tight airways—a heavy wheeze as the fire licks your arms. You shout, almost dropping your bag. “You shouldn't fucking kill people!” 

Your hands grasp the satchel once more, lifting and striking down as Duncan yowls, finally grabbing it and tearing it out of your hands. He wraps his arms around your waist and sends you both directly into the heart of the blaze with an animalistic shove.

Crashing, the immediate flush of fire is so hot that it’s cold—like you’re plunged into ice, even as you feel your skin sizzle. Yet, the resounding scream is nothing compared to the roar of rage as an axe is taken to the last standing wall of the house. 

You fight with Duncan all the while the heat overtakes you, clawing and yelling; nothing more than a banshee of snapping teeth and hatred. The man forces you down, the warmth cooking the skin of your back one patch of flesh and fabric at a time. 

Fingers curl your throat as you dig your thumbs into your aggressor's eyes, choking; wheezing. Black begins to settle in front of your hazy vision, seconds leaning into longer glimpses of moving shadows and growing pain—a pain that adrenaline can only do so much against. And then, just before Duncan’s blood can drip down to your face, his eyes leaking and red, he’s ripped off in a flurry of fast hands and muffled calls. 

An oxygen mask flashes across your dying field of view, and a helmet—a fireproof jacket. Wide, panicked cobalt eyes. And yelling…so much yelling. All of it is stuck behind material that makes it sound like there are voices hidden underwater. 

Hands skimming your shoulders, dragging you out quickly as your bloody fingers grasp in dying panic—fading senses. There are others too, three inside of this house all frantically moving. Ducan is being restrained as well as he’s able to be, dragged back with two sets of hands—one on his shoulders the other on his legs like a child. 

You, on the contrary, get taken up in a fast set of arms more bulky than they are not, shoving you into a heavy chest until your face is hidden into a neck protected by a high collar. 

“Pencils!” Your body burns, and your face contorts as your focus can finally bleed into it. 

Shaking—quivering, your ears are ringing and the rushing feet below you jostle your form. 

Finally making it outside, it’s not a moment later that the entire house falls into itself, a tomb of fire and near death—lost to all but ash. Sirens are suddenly louder; shrill voices. 

Johnny’s hurried voice, and the sound of a mask being ripped off of his face. “Medic!” 

You pant, mouth opening but no words coming out beyond a sharp gasp for fresh air. Something is fitted over your face before you’re lying down on a cot, and your fingers reach but meet air. Head craning up, you blink just in time to see it as the EMTs begin jogging over to their ambulance. Johnny moves and grabs his helmet and throws it to the ground, barking something so loud that you’re broken mind can pick it up.

“Give the fucker to me!” The accent makes it all the more violent, and as your oxygen mask is strapped to your head, you stare owlishly, visage awash with blood and tears. You don’t even want to look down at yourself, and in this haze, you’re not even sure you’d be able to. 

But you can see the rabid events unfolding like your very own TV show. 

Firemen try to grapple Johnny back, but it’s useless to try and stop a brick wall. The Scot shoves one away before his gloved fingers snatch a restrained Duncan, and throws him up on his charred legs.

Senselessly, the arsonist smiles—it’s a distant, psychotic thing. 

“You know the journalist—” A fist is sent hurtling into his face.

Falling back, Duncan cries out as his nose breaks in multiple places; shattering like glass under the force of a steel hammer. 

“Get over ‘ere.” Johnny’s voice is raspy; guttural. You cough and the EMTs connect an IV to your arm, quickly nearing the ambulance as they try to coax you to lay back down. “Bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bending above Duncan’s body, MacTavish gets in two more sharp blows before he’s torn away with yells and orders—shoved with appeasing pats to his arms and desperate pleas to hold out. 

The police rush over, restraining Duncan and forcing his unconscious body to the side. Blood stains the ground, and the fires continue to blaze—others in the background trying to push it back. 

Chest heaving, your throat is raw, but even so, as the EMTs can’t stop you from weakly peeling back the oxygen mask, you call hoarsely, “Johnny!”

You’re loaded into the ambulance just as his eyes snap over, his chest rising and flailing through all of that gear still visible. Calming words find your ears as the medics move the oxygen back over your nose and mouth, holding it so you can’t take it off again. 

The back door is about to be slammed shut before the familiar square face bullies itself in. 

“Sir, you can’t—!”

“Drive,” the fireman shuffles into the seat directly across from you as large, damp, rags are set over your flesh in quick succession as you hiss, eyes flinching shut. Johnny grunts at the EMT who blinks quickly before he twitches at the sound of your pain; jaw clenching. “...Before I get into that seat myself.” 

The engine rumbles to life, and Johnny’s the one who takes your hand into his and drops his tone—moving closer. It takes a moment for his worry to be shoved behind a lens of surety, not for himself, but for you. 

The uncertainty in your eyes made him want to storm backward and show Duncan what fists can do when that’s all you have to rely on instead of cowardice. Fire was a tool of a weakling, and no man was weaker than one who tried to murder someone like you and your bright intellect. But there was no use thinking about it now.

“Oh, Hen,” Johnny’s voice cracks, eyes glancing you up and down quickly as the EMTs do their work. You wouldn’t be awake much longer—if you managed to fight the pain, they’d put you to sleep for your own safety. 

The burns were…they weren’t good.

“Hey, now,” the fireman eases, forcing a small smile and capturing your ash-smeared cheek. He doesn’t care about the state of his gear—the heavy oxygen tank on his back—all he needs is to hold you; even as little as this. “You just let those boys do their jobs, yeah? They’ll have you back up in no time at all, Pencils. Breathe for me, Dearie.” 

Your fast breaths stutter and the scrape of your vocal cords makes Johnny flinch, his eyelids pulling in as a grimace shifts the lines of his face. 

The man fights with himself to snap at the others and make them tell the driver to push the gas harder. He knows they’re going as fast as they’re able.

You try to speak, but Johnny shuts it down with a firm shake of his head. Seeing the packages of sterile bandages being unpacked with rapid hands, knowing the sting that will follow as they’re placed on leaking skin, the Scot moves closer and lightly shields your vision of it.

“No, c’mon now, don’t speak.” An unsteady smirk. “I know I take your breath away, but let's just wait until you’re at the hospital for all of that, eh?”

At the jerky glare coming off of you, a sliver of his panic leaves him.

Johnny tries a weak chuckle before it falls flat. 

Your eyes pick up on the agony before the black at the sides of your vision sweeps in—taking you away as the first press of wrappings along your back make themselves known. His hand stays firm at your cheek; thumb moving over the skin until that’s all you can focus on anymore. 

His touch. Not the fire’s—not Duncan’s. His. The same man that held you close and watched your back. Who had run into a burning house for your safety even if that was his job to do so. 

Johnny seems to be thinking the same because before your head goes limp against the cot, the familiar drawl sings you to sleep.

“…I would have searched that house for you until it fucking took me with it.”

—

The voice recordings from your charred satchel were in police custody, just as Duncan was. 

Along with the thick bindings that had taken home along your back and the upper part of your shoulders, there were others. Your voice was still a crackling mess—as if the fire had left behind a remnant of itself there, an ever-bending and shifting shard directly in your throat. Not even water could get rid of the itch, but you’d been told it would get better. 

All things considered, it could have been worse. 

There was a shit load to do—to explain. Duncan's involvement as well as the deceased Kurts, whose face still haunts you even now; it probably always will. 

Johnny’s shadow flashes in front of yours and you blink quickly, clearing your head. A pause emanates, and the man’s brows tighten. 

“What?” You try to clear your throat and grimace, the hospital bed uncomfortable for you. You’d much rather prefer Johnny’s. 

“I asked you if you’d want any more blankets, Bonnie,” the Scot’s head tilts. He hums. “More medicine? Feeling alright?” 

“So doting,” you huff, fingers rubbing at your neck before Soap sighs and stands from the side chair he’d been in. “No, I’m…fine.”

“My job.” Johnny grunts and his hand pushes away your own, fingers finding the spot that itches internally and carefully massaging until you’re like putty in his hands. In fact, you nearly purr before you sag into him, eyelids drooping. There’s a smug glance tossed your way. “And I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m doin’ pretty good.”

Your lips pull, vision slipping upward. “Careful, people will think I got married over the span of three days.”

Johnny blinks, “Didn’t we?”

Your face burns. “No, MacTavish we did not. Hot-head. All the fumes go straight to your head, I swear.” All the talking was only aggravating your voice, but for the life of you, you can’t stop. 

Johnny rolls his eyes, skull tilting. A bead of serious talk leeks in as his fingers shift from your throat to your head, tips stimulating your scalp which you hum approvingly to. “What’s the plan?”

You think for a moment, letting the man come and lay a firm kiss on your temple. Your heart knows he intends to stay with you through all of this—already he’d been out on paid leave about the whole ‘attacking a restrained man’ fiasco. The bastard deserved it, Johnny had growled to you yesterday as he helped you drink water. You had to agree. 

“Sleep,” your answer is soft and simple. There was no use fretting about the whims of a far-off tomorrow. The future is a fickle creature, ever changing shape to fit the image it wants to play with like a doll at the nearest moment—there was never a pen in your pocket that was trying to jot down its profile; to understand it. Johnny was here, the bed was warm, and his hands were kind. 

That was all you needed.

Cobalt eyes stare for a moment at your response, before the Scot chuckles. “...Well, I can’t fight you there.”

Your hand lightly snares his wrist, and you pull him to you, letting his body melt back onto the bed until you can rest your temple on his shoulder and sigh out your tension. Johnny’s arm curls carefully to rest on your lower back, as delicate as glass. 

It’s a while before he speaks again. 

“You really did worry me,” he whispers, staring into the ceiling and trying to make images out of the shadows on the ceiling. “If I hadn’t gotten there…”

“You did,” you utter, eyes half-closed and fingers rubbing at his stomach. He shivers. “One-way road, Johnny. Stop that.”

“Doesn't make me feel any better when you’re stuck in here for two more weeks.” A smile pulls your face and he glances down, feeling it against his shirt. “...What are you smiling about?”

You hide it into his chest and he shakes his head in exasperation, scoffing.

“I swear, I’m the only one who cares about your safety and then I get mocked for it.”

“M’not mocking you,” your muffled voice grumbles out. “You’re just pouting.”

Johnny grunts, rolling his eyes. “Course.”

“Proving my point.”

“Next time I leave,” Soap’s lips are atop your head, muttering. “I’ll be tying you to the bed and watching you through the camera.”

A thin trail of jumpy laughter echoes out into the halls of the hospital, and your response is just as quick as it always is—as it always would be through Hell and high water. This wasn’t an ideal situation, and there would be more trials to come both literally and metaphorically, but Johnny made for a good rock through all of it. 

He certainly was a better informant than you intended him to be. 

“Ooo, Mr. MacTavish,” a loud groan, laced with a fond, almost worshiped, adoration. “I didn’t know you could be so risqué.” 

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

[ericshoney]

Locked in a car ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You join your brothers in a video with Larray not quite knowing what it was about.

Warnings: swearing, nicknames, teasing, chaos

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

Today you were in LA spending some time with Nick, Matt and Chris. The three thought it would also be funny if you appeared in a few videos, one of which would be on Larray's channel. You had met him a couple times and thought of him as another brother.

You were about to leave to Larray's place, unaware of what the video was going to be about. You just agreed with a bit of persuasion from Nick.

"You ready, kid?" Matt asked you, seeing you sat on the sofa.

"Yeah ready when you guys are." You answered.

Chris and Nick soon joined you both as you all went to the car, Matt driving to Larray's place.

"So, any hints on the topic?" You asked.

"Nope, it's going to be a total surprise for you." Chris said.

"Not one hint?" You called.

"No it might give it away!" Nick exclaimed.

You laughed as you listened to the music play and Matt scream at stupid drivers.

When you safely arrived at Larray's place, you all greeted him cheerfully, Matt rushing off to find his cat. You shook your head at your older brother and went to where the camera was set up, hoping it wouldn't be too weird of a video.

"So, what's the plan?" You asked Larray hoping he'd tell you.

"Well." He began, but Nick quickly stopped him.

"Nope! It's a surprise she's not to know until we're filming!" He cheered.

"Okay, oh girl your gonna love it." Larray replied with a laugh.

"That worries me." You replied.

Matt soon came back, cat in his arms, along with Chris who ran after him. The five of you now standing in the living room ready to record.

"They're back!" Larray shouted suddenly.

"Yes I listened to you all, I have the three same faced people back on my channel and instead of Arrington we have the female Sturniolo Y/n!" He continued.

"I have no idea what we're filming." You said to the camera.

"Nope it's a total surprise for her!" Chris shouted.

"Well today we're filming part two! You all asked and I have delivered! We're going to be locked in a car for twenty-four hours!" Larray cheered.

"Locked in a car for twenty-four hours with you four?" You questioned.

"Yeah, just be glad Arrington isn't joining us like last time." Matt answered with a chuckle.

"Oh yeah you and Chris had to buy air fresheners, those little tree ones." You responded.

"Love you Arrington!" Larray said to the camera.

"Now to the car!" He added.

He grabbed the camera as you all got into his car. Nick sat up the front as you, Chris and Matt got in the back, the guys making sure you were actually comfortable before Larray started driving.

"So Y/n, tell the viewers a bit about yourself." Larray said as he drove, the camera set up on the dash.

"Uh, I'm sixteen. Play hockey, have four older brothers, three of which share the same face. I'm single." You said.

"And it will stay that way till your like thirty!" Matt shouted from right at the back.

"Or forever." Chris added.

You laughed at their protective statements, Nick was busy singing to the songs to really comment, which earned a slap from Chris.

"Fuck bitch! What?" He called.

"Kid was talking!" Chris responded.

"Oh right, don't date!" Nick shouted.

"So no dating life for me, brothers have spoken." You said, making them all laugh.

Larray and Nick then started singing and dancing to the music again, Chris making jokes and Matt laughing. You knew this would be one chaotic video.

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

Tags:

@mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @sturniolo-fann @riowritesitall

[scoops-aboy86]

Realize You’re Living (Secret Admirer pt 5)

Steddie Week 2024, July 5: Reunion / exes to lovers or getting back together / Wasted Years by Iron Maiden

Sorry. Not for the delay in posting, I just think I'm gonna get yelled at for reasons.

wc: 2815 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

There isn’t time to send Steve another letter before Friday. 

There isn’t time, not through the mail, and there’s no way Eddie is risking physically putting something in the Harrington’s mailbox himself. That would mean running the risk of someone finding out, and that still ignites an old fear in the most primal part of his brain that screams at him to run. No matter who it is. 

On the other hand, standing Steve up for their phone date is not an option. The very idea makes his insides freeze over. They’ve both had to reassure each other that they want to continue this epistolary romance, Jesus H. Christ—there’s been too much hot and cold already to pull something like that. 

Eddie rolls over on his bed to lay face down and screams into his pillow. It's like they’re in a relationship, except Steve doesn’t even know who he is. It's absurd. An absolute clown town of his own making.

Okay. Okay, no, he can do this. (Can he?) All he has to do is relax and stay calm until tomorrow night. He’ll call at 10:30 on the dot and play Steve some Iron Maiden or something, maybe a little Dio, a smidge of Black Sabbath, throw in a dash of Judas Priest… Basically play the guy a mix tape, live. 

He whips his head up and all but dives for his side table, looking for the tin where he keeps his weed. It’ll help him chill out enough to come up with a song list. And he needs all the chill he can get. He’s lost his mom to cancer, his dad to addiction and prison, and his childhood home with them—he refuses to lose Steve if he has even half a chance of actually having Steve. Because if this whole secret admirer thing is going where he hardly dares to hope it is, this could be the most important mix tape of his entire goddamn life. 

Steve spends all of Friday so on edge that Robin starts threatening to drop banana peels in the circuit he keeps pacing behind the counter. 

“What is with you today, dingus?”

He stops, tapping his foot restlessly and removing his hat so he can rake a hand through his hair. “Nothing, nothing, I… have an important call tonight, is all. I think.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oooh, is it a pretty girl?” she teases.

“Maybe,” he mutters with a halfhearted shrug. He really still doesn’t know, and it doesn’t seem likely he’ll find out tonight. “I’m not even sure they’ll call. It’s… kind of a blind date sort of thing.”

“A blind phone date?” Robin looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that, which. Fair. “Is that a thing?”

Steve shrugs again. He goes back to pacing. “It might be. I’ll find out tonight I guess.”

She gives him a minute before butting in again, spraying more Windex on the display case to get the lunch rush’s grubby child fingerprints off the cool glass. “...Is this because of the board?”

Again, Steve stops. “What?”

“The You Rule / You Suck board. Have I accidentally degraded your confidence in yourself so much that you’ve turned to blind dates as an alternative to trying to seduce any and every girl who walks in here?” 

Her tone is flippant, but because they’ve been on better terms recently—especially since Steve started offering her rides (and let her take control of the tape deck after that time she threatened to throw all of his Wham! tapes out the window)—he decides to take it as a genuine question. 

“No. Well—No, it’s more the hat than that. It messes up my best feature, you know?” He runs a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up more, then slumps against the back counter next to the milkshake blenders with a sigh. “It’s kind of a pen pal thing. We’ve been talking for a while but we haven’t met, but… I think it might be going somewhere good.”

Robin stops her bored polishing of the display case, only half of the afternoon rush’s smudges and fingerprints wiped away, to laugh with a slight shake of her head. “Oh wow, King Steve is a romantic. Who knew?”

“Not me before junior year, that’s for sure,” he scoffs honestly. 

She studies him thoughtfully for a moment. “Makes sense. Kind of lines up with something I heard the other day, when—”

But then they’re interrupted by a couple strolling in for some ice cream. Robin rushes through cleaning the rest of the glass so as to get out of their way, and Steve scoops and rings them up while she moves on to wiping down tables, conversation forgotten. 

Eddie’s finished his playlist and his plan is to call early. Not too early, just… a minute, five minutes tops. His uncle leaves for work before 10, so he has plenty of time and he’s buzzing with nervous energy. 

Way too much nervous energy to carry into the Big Call tonight. 

By the time Wayne is out the door, Eddie’s already started on rolling a joint and rereading Steve’s letters from start to current. If he’d been smart he would’ve written out copies of his own for a more complete read, that in depth analysis his English teachers never shut up about… but alas. 

Usually his memory is pretty good, especially when it comes to his own work. He also hadn’t expected this to go on as long as it had; not really. But now he can hardly imagine what it would be like to know Steve only from a distance anymore and that… colors things. Fuck only knows what he’s remembering wrong because of a simple difference in perspective. 

Because Steve has let him in, Eddie acknowledges as he lines the weed up on the paper. He’s written things about his home life, about his old friends, and definitely about his injuries over the past couple years (though oddly enough never much about what actually caused them) that Eddie would bet good money that no one else knows, if only because Steve doesn’t seem to have anyone else to tell. Maybe those kids he babysits (begrudgingly but genuinely dotes on, Eddie’s seen it from a distance). But really, how much can you realistically talk to a thirteen year old? Eddie remembers being thirteen; he hadn’t listened to anyone for shit. It was a miracle Wayne hadn’t just released him into the woods like a wild animal. 

And all Eddie’s been doing is pulling Steve close, while steadfastly keeping him out. God. 

He licks the joint to seal it, lights up, and keeps rereading. 

Steve is standing by the phone in his kitchen watching the second hand on the clock. How it sneaks around the clock face, slow but steady, until it laps the 12 line and it’s 10:31. 

He slumps back against the kitchen island with a groan. That had been an absolutely excruciating minute, and he’s staring down the barrel of another fifty-nine more until he can reasonably give up hope. Because anything under an hour is just running late, right? Something could have come up, something unavoidable like… family coming home unexpectedly, making a private conversation impossible. 

… Okay, maybe that was a stress dream he’d had last night about his parents, but something like it could happen to anyone.

10:32. The second hand barely makes it past fifteen this time before the silence is split by the shriek of ringing in the otherwise silent house. Steve multitasks, jumping out of his skin and lunging to answer the phone at the same time.

“HelloHarringtonresidence, thisisStevehowcanIhelpyou?” he rushes out. 

There’s no response except breathing on the other end of the line, which would be creepy if it weren’t exactly what he was hoping for. 

(Eddie is pressing a hand over his mouth, keeping in an equal parts amused and disbelieving laugh at how Steve had answered the phone, all flustered and cute and overly formal in an automatic sort of way that suggests an ingrained habit. From what he knows about Steve’s parents, he’s not terribly surprised, but it’s still such a delightfully dorky greeting.

And it seems like Steve really was waiting by the phone for his call, which makes Eddie want to fucking dance.)

“Is that you?” After a second, a light bulb goes off in Steve’s head and he adds, “Oh. Uh, tap once for yes, twice for no?”

It takes a few seconds, but then he hears a single tap against the plastic of the other receiver. 

(Smart, Eddie would tell him if he could. If he dared. He sucks hard on the last of his joint before letting the smoke billow from his nose like a dragon and putting it out in the ashtray by his bed. Maybe he mashes it in a little harder than necessary, blaming it for being late even though that’s really just another one of his bad habits at this point.)

Relief breaks over Steve like a wave. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the, um, my secret admirer?”

Tap. 

(Yeah sweetheart, it’s me.)

Steve does a little bounce on the balls of his feet and pumps his fist, too giddy to feel stupid about it with no one watching. “Holy shit. I mean, t-thanks for calling. Sorry, my parents make me answer the phone like that.” 

Nothing. 

(Eddie is smiling. Beaming, really. I figured, he imagines saying. At first it makes his heart feel full just thinking about it, but then has to stop that line of thought before his anxiety conjures up all the ways Steve Harrington, until recently Hawkins High’s resident ladies man, might react to the surprise of being on a phone date with a guy. Jesus, how is he high and still so nervous?)

“Right, you can’t answer. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. This is, this is to see how I like your music.” Steve rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Did you want to play something for me now, or…”

Tap. 

(All the tapes are on standby, spread out in chaotic order around the second-hand player he got last year after Wayne’s old one crapped out on him. Eddie cranks up the volume as high as it’ll go; he’s used to it, the neighbors are resigned to it, and Steve won’t be able to hear it well enough to count through the phone otherwise.)

The first song starts, and Steve twists the phone cord between his fingers as he stands in his kitchen and listens. There’s a heavy beat and a noticeable bass line, even over the phone, nothing like the pop rock he usually listens to. But…

“… I definitely didn’t hate it,” he says once the last notes fade out. 

(Eddie is vibrating as he hits pause and ejects the tape, elated, a few of his worries already soothed. Steve doesn’t hate metal. That doesn’t necessarily mean Steve will like him, but it’s got to make the odds at least a little better, right? He wants to say fuck yeah or I love you or, fucking… shriek wordlessly or something, but presses his hand over his cotton-dry mouth instead, hard enough that his gums ache a little.)

“It kind of reminded me of AC/DC? Like Back in Black, or Hells Bells.”

(They’re not one of Eddie’s favorites, didn’t even make the playlist. But they’re harder rock than he expected Steve to be familiar with, and suddenly he has a wild urge to know what the guy thinks of You Shook Me All Night Long.)

“One time, the radio played Big Balls in the car and my mom literally clutched her pearls and said, ‘I don’t think he’s talking about ballroom dancing, Richard!’” 

(Eddie grins as the funny little falsetto Steve put on for the impression fades into a rich laugh, like he’s so tickled by the memory that he can’t help it. There was probably some appalled, classic white-anglo-saxon-protestant-sucking-on-a-lemon expression on her face that he’s picturing, while Eddie can only imagine. It’s okay, Eddie is too busy wanting to pour Steve’s laugh into a bathtub and soak in it.)

Tap. 

“Yeah, really not,” Steve agrees, his cheeks almost aching from smiling so wide. He feels lighter than air just knowing he’s on the phone with the person who’s been writing to him the past couple months, knowing he’s proving that they’re genuinely at least a little bit compatible. “So, what’s the next song?”

It goes on like that. Steve doesn’t know the artists or albums or track titles, but figures that Secret Admirer will fill him in with the next letter. There are a couple of songs that are more shouting than singing for his taste—“I like songs I can sing along to once I know the words, you know? Really belt out in the car after a long day, or something,” he explains, and gets a yes tap in response. 

(Eddie has to improvise. Instead of another WASP song, he reaches for an Iron Maiden tape he’d put aside as a half-assed backup and scours the track list, trying to decide… Ah, that one. He pops it in and turns the volume down for a second so he can check that he’s fast forwarding to the right spot on the tape.

This one’s for you, sweetheart, he thinks, lighting a second joint—not for nerves this time, but just for fun. He leans back and lets the smoke fill his lungs, fill his mind, send him floating off to whatever time of that big house Steve is curled up in so he can spiritually throw an arm around the other guy’s shoulders.)

Steve likes the instrumentals in the intro of this one. He doesn’t really track the words at first once they start—usually doesn’t, on a first listen-through, with so much new to take in. But he starts catching on to the shape of them by the first of what turns out to be the chorus. 

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind Can't ease this pain so easily When you can't find the words to say, hard to make it through another day And it makes me wanna cry, throw my hands up to the sky

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years, hey!

He listens, slowly untangling himself from the long phone cord and taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. When the song finally fades out and he hears the far-off click of the tape being stopped and taken out, he asks hopefully, “It’s about seizing the day, right?”

Maybe they’re building up to telling him who they are, or at least giving him a little more. 

(Eddie freezes, not expecting Steve—who had told him he didn’t get things on the first try—to venture any insights. Especially on a song that hadn’t been on his list, a last minute change-up that he’d picked with the transformation from King Steve to just normal guy Steve in mind and how Steve seems so hung up on apologizing for the douchebag he used to be. 

Or at least, used to be on the outside. Every day, Eddie gets a little less sure that persona went much further than skin-deep.

A tiny sound curls out of Eddie’s throat, a barely audible, inquisitive hum. Something that says please, keep going. He knows Steve has heard it because of the quick intake of breath over the line.)

Steve clutches the handset so hard that his knuckles go white. It’s the first sound, the first crumb that Secret Admirer has given him that’s really them, not a tap on plastic or other people’s music. Too quiet to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s something. 

It feels like everything. 

“You could, you know,” Steve says softly. “You could… make a stand? If you told me who you are, or just anything more about you, I… I really like you. I know for sure that I want to know you. Maybe that makes me a romantic sap, but it’s true. What if we find out we could have our golden years right now?”

(Eddie is freaking out. The mellow of his high isn’t helping anymore, all the floaty syrupy hopefulness of it stripped away. Oh fuck oh balls oh shit, shit, shit!

He’s hyperventilating, knows Steve can probably hear it, and he’s nothing but a goddamn coward in the end.

He can't do this.)

There’s a single clunk, and then all Steve hears is dial tone.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs

[transformation4life]

New Year New Ford

New year's Eve, 2023. 11:55pm. You were watching your local channel that had the New York Ball Drop. Like past new year's you were alone in your apartment. All your friends had got invited to parties besides you so here you were. However one of your friends handed you something interesting last you saw them. "I heard that if you blow the candle and make a wish right as midnight hits it'll come true!" Your friend said as he handed you a star candle.

It sounded like superstition but this year was rough for you as you found yourself unsatisfied with your life and your job so hey it can be worth a shot! You remembered that right before you went to watch the countdown you enviously scrolled Instagram to where you followed a concerning amount of bodybuilders. They seemed to have the perfect lives. Big beautiful body, a loving partner, sponsorships, and getting to show off. Just thinking about it makes you a lil' hard. One bodybuilder that you saw while scrolling caught your eye in particular. He looked so perfect... so large...

"If only I looked like him..." You mutter. Then you hear the people cheering on from 10 to 9 then 8 and so on. You look at the counter with the candle and a lighter and then the tv screen. It was a mad dash to light the candle and put it close to your face closing your eyes and speaking your wish. "I wish I was a bodybuilder with big huge muscles!" You blow out the candle right as it hit midnight.

You open your eyes again and find yourself looking the exact same. What a disappointment. Time for bed though you are very tired. You grab your green blanket and settle down on the couch as you snooze. Unbeknownst to you, your life was going to get a whole lot better.

As you slept, your body started to glow as your white pale skin became that of a bodybuilder tan for competitions. Your clothes evaporated from your body leaving you completely in the nude. Your body now started to expand in all directions. Your flat chest filled with meat and become thick pecs. Your arms became thick like trees. Abs popped in, shoulders becoming bigger, back widening. Your legs became thick and juicy like a drumstick. Your hands became calloused and worn and just a bit bigger. Your small pencil dick increase to a girthy 8 inches of a beer can while your adam's apple became more prominent and neck more thick. Your flat ass became large and bounced like a bubble. Your hair was cut into it was a buzzcut as your body physically aged. The transformation was now complete as you continued to rest. snoring in a much deeper tone.

As the morning came you were still fast asleep unaware that you had a completely new body.

You yawn as you awake not yet realizing your muscular body as you scratch your ass. You seem to forget that you were wearing clothes last night as you walk to your bathroom, letting your new dick dangle. You reach the mirror in the bathroom and rub your eyes and that's when you realize. "OH MY FUCKING GOD?!??!?!" You scream. You finally realized your body changed.

It wasn't long until you started to explore your new body, commenting on your new ass and big dick. While you tested out your new body the scenery around your bathroom became bigger and much more luxurious. In fact, Your entire apartment was remade into a much more massive house not that you knew this was happening. You just let your muscles captivate you. You closed your eyes and you put your massive arms to your head as you thought about your new life. As that was happening your bodybuilder tan slowly disappeared and a cross necklace wrapped itself around your neck and some workout shorts covered your member. No underwear though.

You eventually put your arms down as you realize you should probably check your phone to see if it changed in any way so you leave your bathroom completely blissful of the changes to both your house and bathroom. You head to your new bedroom and check your phone. Much to your surprise, there are notifications from many including dating apps. Seems like the new you gets around. You rub your head as you realize the reality of your new life is going to be a doosey.

As you ponder what to do next you feel something happening in your brain. You can feel your brain processing slowing down. Most academic knowledge you ever had being flushed down the metaphorical drain as it was replace with solely the need to bulk your already large body. You space out as this was happening and a little drool came out of your mouth before you snapped back to reality. The only thing on your mind now is to go to the gym and get RIPPED. So you grab the workout gear you suddenly now have and ride in your car to your favorite place in the world.

You arrive at the gym and scent of musk overwhelmed your nose and it felt like home. With it being the new year you see many new people but that doesn't stop your grind. You walk to the gym lockers and your instincts lead you to a locker with the name "Lunsford". You put your bag into the locker and get back to the gym floor. With ease and effort you work out for hours. You always loved that pump. After working out you adjust your sweaty tank and hand to the gym area with full body mirrors.

Once you arrived you immediately stripped into just underwear and socks and flexed. God you looked so good. You loved your body. You loved your life.

A few months later...

Your life has been such a breeze and you were invited to the beach with some bodybuilder friends you made over the months. In a cocky fashion you flex on the beach before stripping into your beach attire.

was only a matter of time until someone wanted a picture or a video of you. With the first person who asks you put on some shades you had in one of your pockets and put them on, only to take them off immediately after and wink at the camera.

"it's going to be a good year!" You say to yourself as you jog to the water with glee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hey everyone! Late new year story for ya! Hope this year brings you good fortune and fun! See you in the next story!

[amournoir]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬

pairing: sarah cameron x f!reader

count: 3.3k

warning: smut [boob play, licking, sucking, oral receiving & giving, face riding, fisting, language?]

author’s note: your girl is in a mood so you get to be in it too. 🤭 this is my very first fxf so please bear with me & let me know what you think about it, i hope you enjoy it! 😌 quick reminder that this is 21+

You had come home early that day due to swim class being canceled which was a bummer since you loved it so much, your mother often joked you were half mermaid. Your parents had said they needed to talk to you later but since no one was home, you went over to your best friend’s house to pass time. Grabbing your bike, you hopped on it and pedaled to her house, parked it right in their front yard and dashed up the porch. 

You didn’t bother knocking, you just twisted the knob and invited yourself in. Her brother, Rafe, was sitting in the living room watching some show but at the sight of you, he yelled your name to his sister…per usual. You smiled and walked over to him, ruffling his hair a bit then skipped away to the stairs. You heard his chuckle before he was out of sight. 

You found Sarah sitting in front of her makeup table in her bikini. She was taking off her earrings and necklace slowly. You surprised her by running in and instantly jumping onto her bed. She shrieked as if you hadn’t been doing this every single time you came over so you laughed as always. 

“Fucks sake Y/N! Can’t you knock?” She asked, her hand clutching her chest. 

You beamed widely, “Yeah but it’s more fun hearing you scream.” 

“One of these days I’ll actually have a heart attack.” 

“Ooh can you? I need to put my CPR training to good use.” You asked with a grin. 

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I hate you.” 

“You’re not capable of it.” 

“Ugh just come help me.” 

“With what?” You lifted yourself up and propped yourself on your elbows. 

“My necklace is tangled with my bikini straps.” 

“Hmm I thought you said you hated me.” You wondered out loud. 

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

She sighed and tugged on a tight strap but nothing happened. She tried again harder and this time, her necklace broke free but so did her entire top. You had been watching her the entire time but her back was to you, she wasn’t aware yet. You saw the reflection of her body on the mirror in front of her, you saw her huge boobs and nipples. You wanted to tear your eyes away but you couldn’t possibly. It took her longer than a minute to realize it and that’s when she quickly covered her chest. 

You pushed yourself off the bed and walked over towards her, standing right behind. Neither of you said a word so you just offered a smile instead. She couldn’t meet your eyes, you could see how nervous and embarrassed she was but there was no need to be. Both of you were girls, both of you had breasts so nothing was weird as far as you were concerned. 

“It’s okay, you know.” 

She kept her eyes down, “What is?” 

“You don’t need to hide it, it was an accident. No big deal.” 

She sighed and looked up at you through the mirror then smiled, “You promise?” 

You stuck your pinky out to her, “Pinky promise.” 

One of her hands reached out and linked your pinkies together. You suddenly had the urge to see it again, this time up close. So with your eyes fixated on hers, you placed both of your hands on her shoulders then lowered them to her chest. You stopped to see her reaction but she didn’t do a thing, only watched you. You continued on until you reached her bikini top which you carefully pushed down until it fell on her lap and now she was bare chested again. 

Your hands came back up and slowly kneaded her breasts, both at the same time then alternated. Your fingers traced her nipples which made her let out a very faint moan so you flicked her nipple and again, she made the same sound. You liked it. You liked hearing her moan and you liked how huge her boobs were. You kept toying with them, rolling them around, pinching and squeezing as she kept moaning. You stopped and her eyes shot open and stared at you. She turned around in her seat then stood up and fully faced you. 

Biting her bottom lip, she reached out to you and you let her. You didn’t know where this was going but you knew you didn’t want to stop it. Sarah didn’t reach out to kiss you, much to your surprising dismay, she reached for your top. You stood there as she lifted it up to reveal your black lace bra cupping your slightly larger boobs. She didn’t even bother unclasping it, she just pulled your breasts out one by one then bounced them in her hands as if checking their weight. 

Her eyes were fully fixed on your chest as her hands switched from soft massages to roughly squeezing you. A moan escaped you and that made her eyes flicker up to yours. Whilst holding that eye contact, she lowered herself and pressed a soft kiss between your boobs then on top of each one. You threw your head back so she kissed them again and again until she was licking them. You slowly pulled her up and held her hands as you led her to the bed where you laid down on your back and pulled her on top. 

With a smile, she tucked your hair behind your ear then leaned down and kissed your cheek. Your neck was next then her lips trailed back down to your boobs. She started with a few kitten-like licks then moved to sucking. You closed your eyes and relished the experience as your hands found their way to her hair where you tugged her head up. She lifted her head and looked at you then down at your lips, before you knew it, her lips were on yours. Your tongues explored each other, she was fully sucking you. You placed a hand on the back of her head to pull her closer and she placed hers on your neck which turned you the fuck on. 

Your make out session was hot and heavy in every which way, from grinding to sucking, you both couldn’t stop. Once it did end, the dry humping began. Sarah was on top slowly grinding her hips against yours to find some sort of release. You had placed your hands on her ass, pushing the bikini bottom between her cheeks. Your hands squeezed and dug into her ass, making her grind harder. Momentarily you stopped her and lifted your hips, removing your shorts and underwear in one go. 

Sarah stared at your bare cunt in awe, fully mesmerized. You smiled and ran your fingers between your folds, separating them as you gathered the wetness. You lifted your soaked fingers in front of her face and she opened her mouth instantly, her lips wrapping around you. She sucked and licked your fingers clean, even between the crevices. Such a hot dirty girl, you thought to yourself. You suddenly had a brilliant idea. 

“Can I taste you too?” 

“Only if I get to go down on you too.” She said with a smile. 

“Turn around and sit on my face.” 

Her eyes grew wide, “Wait I can ride you?” 

“Yeah, is it okay?” 

“I’ve always wanted to see you naked so this is a dream Y/N!” She exclaimed and immediately got herself into position. 

Sarah spread your legs apart for her personal viewing then kissed your inner thighs. Her ass was above your head, careful not to fall on you. Her fingers wandered around your outer area then inched their way closer until she reached your cunt. Without warning, she inserted two fingers inside your pussy very slowly then leaned down forward. 

She looked back to you and said, “You're so wet and pink.” 

You moaned in response instead and this made her wonder out loud, “How many fingers do you think I can fit?” 

“I don’t know, four?” You guessed. 

“Four?! Such a slut but I like it, let’s try.” So she did. 

Her lips kissed your cunt then she lowered her head even closer and licked your pussy. Your body naturally jolted and you moaned. Once she knew what made you react, she would repeat the action again and again. Her licks turned to full on sucking and her fingers pushed in and out, each time adding a new one. Four fingers in and you still wanted more. Out of nowhere, she spit on your pussy and pushed the saliva inside. 

Gone were your soft moans, now you were audibly groaning and rocking your hips to increase your release. Thank goodness everyone was out of the house. Her little sister was at some camp, her stepmom was on the mainland shopping all day, her dad was at his workplace, and you had heard her brother leaving minutes after you got there with his club friends. So you could moan as loud as you’d like, no one was around and the thought of that turned you on even more. 

You weren’t the only one turned on. Your moans and groans had gotten to Sarah so much that she was quite literally dripping. You felt it once but didn’t realize it until now, you thought it was sweat from you. Turns out, she had been getting off at the sight of you. To prove your theory, you reached one hand up to slide her bikini bottom aside and revealed her soaking cunt. Sarah gasped and slightly jumped at the contact of cold air. Your other hand came up to gather her wetness on your fingers and sucked it. Salty and smooth, you mentally concurred. 

“You get off by watching me Sarah?” You asked an obvious question but you just wanted her answer. 

“Who wouldn’t? My entire fist is in your squishy soft pussy and yet you’re still wet.” She replied. 

“You’re fisting me??” You hadn’t even noticed. 

“You’re so hot that way baby.” She cooed. 

“Fuck me deeper with your hand babe, I wanna cum.” I was so ready to beg. 

“Mmm you’re such a pretty girl Y/N.” She praises, “If only you could see how slutty you look with a fist in you. I’ll make you cum baby.” 

The thought was sending you to places further than you’d imagined. Sarah, your childhood best friend was naked on top of you with her ass in your face and her hand— fist, in your pussy. You now wanted to see it. A picture, video, anything to relive this after it was done. But it wasn’t, not yet because you hadn’t started. 

As your friend stuck her fist deeper into you and pushed in and out whilst sucking your clit, you lowered her ass closer to your face. Her cunt was now on your lips, you licked once then twice, each time Sarah moaned and pushed down. You could tell she wanted to ride your face and you wanted her to but not until you were fully satisfied. You used your fingers to spread her folds open then spit up inside and used your middle finger to push it in. You moved your head around to get a more comfortable position then spread your legs further apart as she kept going. 

Both of you were now eating each other out. You slapped her ass and motorboated her pussy, your tongue deep inside. This went on for a few minutes but you weren’t getting what you wanted so with a smirk, you slapped her cunt with your free hand. It hit you before you even realized it, she had squirted into your mouth which dripped down your chin. Her body convulsed as she placed her free hand onto the bed for support. She rocked her hips harshly against your mouth. 

“I want you to eat it all.” She said as she grinded harder on your face. 

“Yes Sarah, please give it to me.” 

She fully sat on your face then lifted herself up then sat down again. “Do you like that Y/N? Do you like me suffocating you?” 

“Hmmmph.” Your reply was muffled between her legs. 

“Can’t hear you. Speak louder or I’ll stop.” She lifted her hips up again. 

“Fuck my face baby, please use it.” You panted and waited for her. 

“Mm I plan on it. Now stick out your tongue, I want to fuck it.” 

You did as told almost immediately, you were very eager to please her. Sarah lowered herself on your tongue and got off then let it impose her again. She did this over and over, your tongue was being used as a dick for her. She bounced on it slowly then rolled her hips. Her hand was still inside you so every movement was turning you on again. You moaned wantonly against her pussy as she impaled herself continuously. Her head was thrown back, facing the ceiling, with eyes closed as she rode you. 

Her legs tightened against your head and you could tell she was close. She paused for a moment and threw her ass back into your face several times before coming on your tongue. Your lips widen to suck all of it in your mouth and down your throat. It was hot, salty, and smooth. She got off your face and rested on your abdomen, her wetness residue left on your boobs. 

She let out a sigh and looked back at you, “You’re such a good girl baby. Did you like mommy’s cum?” 

You nodded your head with a smile. “Mommy’s cum was a lot. I even made you squirt.” 

“It’s your turn now. I want you on all fours.” 

She removed her fist from inside you and you groaned at the feeling. Your pussy walls tightly held onto her fingers and this made her chuckle so instead she spit down on your cunt to loosen you up. With less effort, her hand was out and she rolled off of you. You could barely get up but the thought of being eaten from behind was enough motivation. You rolled to the side then lifted yourself up slowly, pulled your legs forward and used your hands to stabilize yourself. There you were, your boobs still in their bra but your underwear long forgotten on the floor somewhere. 

You looked back at Sarah and slightly wiggled your hips as you parted your legs. She grinned and came closer to you, her hands reached up to your bra and unclasped it, tossing it to join the mess on the floor. Your boobs immediately bounced around and this caught her eye. She reached down and pinched them, pulling them as if to milk them. You tossed your head back and moaned, your pussy clenching on thin air. 

“Fuck if I knew they were this big, I’d have done all this sooner.” She said, still squeezing and pulling on them. 

“You’ve thought of me?” 

“Hell yes. The amount of times I’ve wanted your boobs to accidentally fall out of your bikini or walk in on you after showering is ridiculous.” 

“Well now you can have me anytime.” 

“Anytime? Even in front of the guys?” 

“Sarah! We can’t do this in front of them.” 

“Why not? I want them to hear your pretty moans and see what a good girl you are when you’re fisted.” 

“Only if they can see you squirting down my throat. That was so hot by the way.” 

“Can I be honest Y/N?” Sarah asks, lowering her voice a little.

“Yeah of course.” 

“I’ve actually never done any of this before, I just saw it in some videos and I immediately thought of you. I was afraid you’d think I’m weird or something.” 

“Sarah Cameron, your kinky side is the hottest thing ever. I’ve never done this before either but I’m glad we’re each other’s firsts.” 

“Can I try another first?” She bites her lip as she looks at you. 

“Yeah, what is it?” 

“I want to eat you out on all fours.” 

You playfully shake your ass in front of her and say, “Bon appetit.” 

She grins and gets on all fours as well then moves closer to you. Once she has your ass in her view, she leans forward and slaps it softly then again harder. She lowers her head and licks from your pussy entrance to your asshole, this causes you to moan. She repeats it again and you push your ass back into her face, with both hands she grabs it firmly and sucks hard. She’s shaking her face around your pussy, her tongue deeply exploring your insides. You moan even louder, you instinctively arch your back so that you’re face down and ass up. 

The sounds coming from behind you make it sound like she’s actually eating. It’s wet and loud and it fully turns you on. You reach your hand back and feel her head then push her further into you. Sarah moans against your cunt and picks up the pace, her sucking becomes much harsher, you can feel her teeth lightly scraping you. You jumped forward, it’s all becoming too much but she follows you. She lifts her head up to take a breath then dives back in again, the cold air momentarily hits you and your pussy clenches. She spits into your asshole then lets it drip to your pussy, she does it again but the time spreads your cheeks wide so the saliva enters inside instead. 

You groan loudly, shaking your ass to get her attention back to your pussy. She notices this and sticks her tongue out then uses it to prod into your pink squishy hole, she tongue fucks you as you did her. One of her hands spreads your pussy wide open for her and the other comes down to pinch your nipples. You begin to come, she can feel the few drops on her tongue but she knows you’re not there yet. So she lifts her body up and uses her boobs to rub against your clit. With her tongue back inside your pussy, fingers pulling on your boobs, and her nipple grinding on your clit, you’re left coming in her face. You shake with so much force but she doesn’t let go on your ass, if anything she sinks her face further inside, sucking every last drop and swallowing. 

“Your pussy is so tasty baby. And you said I can have it whenever?” 

Your eyes are closed as you keep panting, unable to talk, you just nod. 

She tuts and slaps your cunt, “I need to hear you.” 

You jolt forward and quickly reply, “Yes, have me whenever.” 

“Sit up, I want you to suck mommy’s boobs again.” 

You do as told even if it does take you a minute then you look at her. “So we’re doing the whole mommy thing?” 

“Yeah, I like it.” She sits on the bed with her legs open wide and pats for you to sit in front. 

“Not surprised you have a mommy kink.” You reply with a smirk then sit, your cunts are so close to each other, you can actually feel the heat. 

“You feel that too?” 

“Yeah, can we?” 

Sarah smiles and says, “Another day, I’ll ride your pussy until we cum on each other.” 

“Fuck that sound so good.” Your hands reach for her boobs and you softly massage them. 

“Yeah? You want mommy to fuck your slutty pussy? You want our pussy lips together baby?” 

You nod before you answer, “Yes mommy, I want them to make noise and slide.” 

“Okay but now, be a good girl and suck my boobs. It’s feeding time.” Sarah places her nipple on your lip. You open your mouth and suck it in slowly, closing your eyes and your other hand gently slaps around her other boob. You were happy and you couldn’t wait for more. You’d be each other’s firsts for everything.

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[letshavedeernnertogether]

Sleepyhead, part two

the plot is: you have nightmares and can't sleep because of it, luckly alastor knows how to help you.

part one, part two, part three, part four

tw: none, just keep on being cute and sweet

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You were lying in bed on your back pulling the blanket right up to your chin. Your eyes were wide open, and you gazed into the darkness. The living shadows swirled around your room. They were the uncontrolled tentacles made of darkness, that haunted you every night.

Every time you went to bed and turned off the light, the moment when you almost fell asleep, the dark figures came out and tried to catch you. You opened your eyes, followed their stirs and couldn't move. You perspired profusely, you hardly breathed, and you felt like your own body floated above the bed, as if your spirit left your shell.

The most frightening thing was the feeling, that they were real. They were not a dream. It seemed so to you, because you never noticed, when you fell asleep and began to dream, and also you didn’t notice, when you woke up. Morning came, and the eerie shadows receded, and only then you could fall asleep. But every night they returned again.

These tentacles never touched you, but you were afraid to leave your bed, thinking that it was the only refuge. You knew that if they grabbed you, they wouldn’t let you go, they would strangle you, and you'd become a shadow like them. They were hungry and hated those who could live in the light of day.

Light?

You were lying in bed sweating with fear. The blanket pressed on you like the sky on the shoulders of Atlas, and the time seemed stopped. It seemed the morning would never come. Morning...

Suddenly you thought about the light. These dark creatures never came during daylight hours. They were probably afraid of the light.

A lamp stood on your bedside-table, but it was too far to reach. And you didn't want to make any moves to not get the figures dander up. But if you make a sudden harsh move... If you suddenly jump out of bed, get to the door, jerk it open, then a light must pour out from the corridor, which had never been extinguished there.

Taking a deep breath and mustering your courage up, you jumped out of bed, ran between the tentacles, that almost grabbed your ankles several times, and ran out into the hallway, slamming the door behind you.

You screamed out, when you pressed your back against the door and felt a push. They wanted to get to you. Were you still awake?

You dashed for the main hall, away from your room.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

When you were downstairs in the dim lit lobby, you heard a slowly jazz music coming from the kitchen. You headed for the sound, expecting to see there the man, who once lulled you with his song. Getting closer, you smelled something savoury. Your mouth filled with saliva.

When you entered the kitchen, Alastor was standing in front of the gas stove and cooking something. He took off his froak coat and worn a light red apron. His cane was placed nearby, and the music was coming out from it with a drowsy buzzing. He was softly humming the melody.

Alastor heard some movings behind him, when you sat down on a chair next to the table. His eares twitched, and he turned his head back. He looked at you in surprise,

"It's strange to see you awaken at the dead of night, my dear. Why aren't you in bed?"

You looked down, "Nightmares," You muttered sadly.

Alastor looked at the rice in the frying pan, reduced the heat and looked at you again.

"Why my dear!" He exclaimed, "You always sleep so sweet, I never thought you could have bad dreams."

"It's only at night," You yawned and continued still looking at your knees, "When the night comes, and everything sinks in the darkness, these shadows creep out of somewhere, and I can't fall asleep because of the fear..."

You were so tired and exhausted with this night. Being here, in the warm kitchen, filled with appetizing smell, when a softly slow jazz swirled around you and Alastor, made you fell into a light doze.

"Hmm," Said Alastor, "You said nightmares, but described it like reality."

"Because I don't understand what it is!"

Alastor heard that your voice began to break, and you lifted your hand to wipe a tear running down your cheek.

"I know I'm not dreaming when I see them, and moreover, they pushed the door after I left. I'm wondering how I managed to escape..."

Tears were running down your face, but you didn't sob. Tears left silver traces on your skin, but in the lighting of the kitchen they seemed bronze. Alastor thought how beautiful you were even in your sadness. But he liked you more with a soft smile on your face, when you slept near him.

Alastor took off the apron and came to you. You didn't see it, you just felt how he gently touched your face. His thumb wiped the tear from the corner of your eye. You looked at him. He held your face in his hands. His soft gaze awakened something inside of you. You didn't want anything but to stare in his big glowing eyes.

You licked your lips and said sniffing,

"I think your dinner is burning."

He raised his eyebrows, his lips formed a silent "O", and he went up to the gas stove.

When he turned away from you, you wiped the rest of your tears glading that Alastor couldn't see your blush as your skin was totally black.

He added some broth in the pan and stired the dish. Breathing in the savoury smell and listening to the music, you thought, why couldn't you fall asleep. The problem wasn't in your bed, you slept there well during the day. The darkness or the night? Well, it seemed more like true. And you thought that your helplessness to the shadows were stupid. But then you remembered how the narrow tentacles wriggled under your feet trying to seize you, when you slammed the door shut. They were moving under the door, and it didn't seem like they were actually afraid of electric light.

You flinched remembering it. But then you remembered how you had a nice sleep at night in the hotel. It was your first night and the night a week ago.

You couldn't say what was special in your first night, after when Alastor had taken you to your bedroom, as it was dark and you were alone as always. you didn't know the truth.

But last week you spent the whole evening with Angel in his room. You were talking about your lives for several hours and ate a lot of unhealthy snacks watching your favorite romantic comedy from when you were alive. You both laughted at stupid decisions of characters, and you both were touched by the same romantic scenes.

Leaning against Angel's shoulder, breathing in his sweet vanilla smell, you fell asleep. You woke up embraced by all his four arms in his bed, just where you fell asleep. In the morning, when Angel woke up, he said that you were too sweet and too cute to be disturbed, so he didn't woke you up. But he didn't say, why he hadn't carried you to your bedroom, and you didn't ask him about it.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

The darkness and loneliness might had been the reasons of you being haunted by the living nightmares.

Alastor looked at you again. He thought that the nightmares were another curse of you. What an unfortunate darling you were. You told him about your life and how you avoided reality for all your life. And now you were cursed to never get enough sleep, and at night you were surrounded by your own fears and couldn't even close your eyes. Too much for a poor thing like you, thought Aalstor.

"I can't sleep in the dark and I can't sleep alone," You said. It seemed to you, that you had a good sleep then, because Angel was by your side. Maybe these shadows were powerless when you were not alone?

"Alone?" He asked tilting his head.

You nodded.

"Hmmm," Alastor looked up thinking on something. You noticed that he'd already covered the frying pan with a lid. Now his dinner was slowly braised.

"Well, my dear," He said coming up to you, "it's a shame that a sleepyhead like you can't have enough sleep during the night, so she must sleep all day long depriving me of the opportunity to spend time with her. This cannot go on."

He gave you his hand.

"But your dinner?"

"Don't worry, Starry eyes," He said bending in his waist still giving his hand, "I can absent myself for a time. I just want to offer you something, it won't take long."

You took his hand and stood up. He pulled you closer to him, so your bodies touched. Three upper buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and you blushed understanding that it was the first time you saw him being so informal.

"Hold on tighter, darling," He wispered in your ear, before you sank into the dark light.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You opened your eyes to find yourself in the unfamiliar room. You pressed yourself close to Alastor, his hands were on your shoulder-blade. The wind from the window chilled you, and you cuddled closer up to him. You turned your head to look around and understood, that it wasn't the wind from the window. It was the wind from the forest. The place, where Alastor took you, was half room and half the woods. You both were standing in the room in dark red colors with dark wood furniture, and the other side of the room was a night forest. You heard rustling, chirring, twittering coming from it. It was actually real.

"Welcome to my room, darling," Said Alastor letting you out.

So, it was his room. Before any other thought came on your mind, Alastor placed his arm on your waist and led you to a bed, that was in the center of the room.

"What? What are you doing?" You stopped and looked at him.

"My dear, this place is the safest in the whole hotel, and even in whole hell, if I may say. Here no one and nothing will hurt you. None of your eerie fears will find you here." He carefully placed his arm on your shoulder. His static voice made goosebumps ran down your back. He turned you back to him and pointed at the bed with his cane, "This room, this bed are your refuge. You don't need to be afraid here."

You looked at the bed. How cozy, how warmly, how alluringly it looked. You yawned. What was the use of refusing? After crying your eyes were tired, you wanted to close them and fall asleep. The bed seemed just perfect. The room was warm, and the chill of the forest helped you not to feel too much hot.

You glanced at Alastor. You didn't mind using his bed at all, but if he offered it to you, where would he spend the night then?

"And what about you?" You asked.

"Oh, darling," He softly smiled at you, "I'm the exact antithesis of you. While you always want to sleep, I have insomnia."

"Ohh," You pronounced. "Poor thing," You thought, "It might be difficult not to sleep, and not to see dreams."

You turned to the bed and then turned to Alastor again. He looked at you expectantly.

You slowly climbed into bed. Bed linen was soft and it smelled like... It smelled like Alastor. It was the same scent as when he had pulled you closer to him, before you both faded away in his shadow and turned out here.

You lay your head on the pillow and sank in its softness. But it wasn't too soft. It was just perfect. Like all his bed. Like all his room. A smile spread across your face.

You turned on your right side to look at Alastor and thank him. But you didn't have time to say anything, because he wrapped you in the blanket like a child. He tucked the blanket in, so you wouldn't get cold. When he leaned lower over you to tuck the blanket behind you, you tilted your head in the way so your lips "accidentally" met his chin. He froze still leaning over you.

You were lying between his hands, his face was in two inches of yours. He saw a sly yet shy smile on you. He smiled back, and your heart skipped a beat. You thought how beautiful he was. Maybe even too beautiful. You could drown in his crimson gleaming eyes, that hypnotized you.

Very slowly Alastor lifted his head to leave a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Goodnight, my love," He wispered.

You didn't open your eyes still feeling his lips on your forehead, and only when you heard a rustling, you opened your eyes and turned to the right. Alastor had just disappeared in the shadow.

Did he call you love?

You blushed so bright, that if there was anyone in the room, they would had seen the explosion of the supernovae on your cheeks.

It was just like in your best dreams.

You made yourself more comfortable still smiling because of the sudden tenderness of Alastor. You breathed in the smell of bed linen. It savoured with his astringent cologne, with fur and a little bit of smoke, because of the fireplace opposite the bed. You thought, this was what home smelled like.

You were lying with your eyes closed waiting for sleep to come. Firewood softly crackled, crickets chirred in the woods. Suddenly a radio on the piano turned on, and you heard a sweet female voice. The radio played quietly, and the singer's voice sank in static. You noticed that this buzzing of the radio was a comfortable sound for you, as it brought drowsiness to you.

♪ Night winds seem to have gone to rest,

Two eyes, brightly with love are gleaming ♪

You heard it through the somnolence and smiled.

The radio kept on playing quietly until you fell asleep in the room, that was yours now...

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor returned to the kitchen. His dinner was already done. He turned off the fire, mixed the dish and put some in a plate. The rest of the dish he put off in a basin and left it to cool, so that he could put it in the fridge later.

Usually Alastor didn't think about something secondary during a meal enjoying the food. But this time he couldn't help think about Sleepyhead. He remembered how she said, that she couldn't sleep alone. Could it be that all this time she was tormented by nightmares and did not sleep? Alastor remembered how he carried this tiny demon to her room at the first night. And how he stayed by her for all night long and watch her sleeping. She seemed had a very pleasant dream then. She always looked just as cute when she slept during the day, leaning on his shoulder.

Now he didn't even want to leave her alone in the bedroom. But he thought, that she might feel herself uncomfortable, if he stayed next to her and watched her until she fell asleep. Moreover he was extremely hungry. For the whole day he couldn't put something in his mouth, and now he was ravenous, so ravenous he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't suddenly eat her. After all she smelled very good.

Alastor raised his eyebrows in surprise, when his staff turned on the music. His hand with a fork froze on halfway to his mouth. From the staff a woman sang a lovely song. Alastor finished his dinner, rested his head on the hand and listened.

This singer was famous when Alastor was alive, but he never took a great interest in her. But now he liked the song and the voice.

♪ Come to my arms, my dear one,

my sweetheart, my own ♪

Alastor stood up and put on his froak coat. With a snap of his fingers the dirty plate became clean and it came in the kitchen cabinet.

♪ Kind night, bringing you nearer,

dearer and dearer ♪

Alastor beat the ground with the cane and the music stopped.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

When Alastor came to the bedroom it was already deep night. He saw you wrapped in the blanket, lying facing the forest. He came up to bed and heard your softly breathing. Alastor made the lights dimmer and, coming to the other side of bed, his clothes changed into the satin dark red pajamas.

Alastor saw a sweet smile on your face. You brought your hands to the face squeezing the edge of the blanket in your fists. You looked like a little doe, so small and innocent. You curled up, and Alastor took out a woollen blanket from a commode. He climbed into bed and covered you with the wool.

"Alastor..." You murmured in sleep.

He froze. He heard millions times before, how you talked in your sleep, but you'd never talked about him. Hearing his name on your soft moist lips was more than he could stand. His heart beat faster, and he felt ache in his stomach. You were so close to him, he felt your milky scent and felt your breath on his lips.

You stretched out your hands and embraced him. He fell next to you on the blanket. You wispered his name again, and his heart melted.

"You'll never go back to your bed, dear," He wispered buring himself in your fluffy hair and embracing you. He placed a kiss on your crown, and you smiled.

Alastor yawned. How strange, he never felt drowse lying in bed, but when he was next to you, felt your warmth and heartbeat...

He didn't notice how he fell asleep, with his head resting on yours, which you laid on his chest.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

invitation for deerner: @serapinaxx @noraunor

p.s.

sorry for it taking so long, another busy week at university, and now i feel like Sleepyhead herself hahaha

i hope you liked the part two and i wish you all sweet healthy sleep and kind fluffy dreams ♡ ♡ ♡

[sister-of-hitoshi]

IM BACK AGAIN BUT WITH OUT THE COVER OF AN ANON!!! Can I get another Mr. Villain x reader? This time can I pleaseee have the reader be a baker? Making him cute lil cupcakes with panda faces!!!!

To my loveliest @crystalmonk5579 of course!!! Thanks a lot for coming again and requesting ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ <33 I can only hope that I didn't disappoint, sorry for the delay (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

Sending you love!

Adultered Confections

Genre: Fluff

Anime: Mr Villain's Day off

Character: Warumono-san/ Mr Villain

Word count: 1k+

Note: That gif is literally just him coming to terms with his new-found feelings sensations 😭

"Ahhh~ look at that cloud, it looks just like his fluffy hair"

You sigh, your consciousness floating in a happy dream before the ding of the oven jolted you up from your slumber, starting a chain reaction which finally ended up with a bag of flour all over you.

"Why do all my dreams always end up like this! Ugh." You exasperatedly made your way to the oven while patting your face to take out the cupcakes. This was your new recipe, and you wanted it to be a hit. Although a small batch among them was way more special than the rest.

They were the panda themed cupcakes for your crush.

"I know I currently look bad but all this pain would be so worth it if only he was here to comfort me and pat all this flour off" You animatedly nodded to yourself, satisfied with your own reasoning while being completely ignorant to the jingle of the shop door-bell.

A pat on your back and you screamed- almost.

Turning around you were met face to face with the guy-of-your-dreams. He first stared at you, and then stared at his fingers covered with flour.

"Would you like me to help you in some way?"

He was a kind man, the kindest you've ever met, and extraordinarily handsome on top of that.

"Pat all this flour off of me!!-" Wait wait- that came out without much thought!!- "-....please?"

How could I be so bold??! You internally screamed. You were about to immediately correct your 'mistake' when he took out his handkerchief.

"Excuse me then" he said, and started patting your face.

You immediately closed your eyes shut, only taking small peeks at him out of embarrassment. You would be lying if you didn't admit to feeling heartbroken at his lack of reaction.

But well that's just who he was. A calm and composed man.

Surely girls would be throwing themselves at him. You haven't even been able to express your interest in him properly except for well- giving him freebies everytime he came regardless of whether he bought something or not, always make light talk with him to know about his interests and days, chalking out his day-off routine using all the "classified information" - things he tells you about himself, pack extra sweets, keep your shop open longer on particular days of his visit and also-

Yeah, you get it.

I'm a rock- I'm a r.o.c.k

You continued to chant your newfound mantra in your head until he was done with dusting patting flour off of you. You opened your eyes and thanked him shyly, promising to repay his kindness. But of course, you being a blind, non-living rock, failed to notice his blushing eartips.

All the while he was busy doing his job of cleaning you and staring at your face a little bit more than that his ears had felt a bit warm, his heart had felt warmer, and he had this tingling sensation in his stomach. It had actually been quite a few times when he has felt this sort of unfamiliar sensation now, but today it felt more intense.

"So, how did you land up like this?"

He asked, tilting his head. So adorable-

"Well I was making these cup- OHH!!"

"Please wait it's a surprise for you!-" Without waiting for a reply, you swiftly turned around, ready to dash towards the oven when your head hit a nearby rack which somehow caused a box of wooden spatulas of varied shapes to fall on your head somehow, which triggered another chain reaction somehow which again ended up with a bag of flour all over you. Really, again.

"....I really really can't believe my luck!!!"

You exclaimed exasperatedly, looking down at your feet. That's it I look like a fool in front of him I'm so so embarrassed let me just dig up a hole and bury myself there maybe even do-

"Pfft-"

You looked up at him and caught him smiling down at you. You were blessed with his laugh, okay time for me to be in heaven now which he was trying so hard to hold in.

His mind only repeated one word to him, over and over again. Cute.

Cute cute cute cute cute-

"Um... I know it's really weird that I'm like this- I mean would you mind doing it no- no- I'm sorry-" you were trying to find the best words that would fit your current situation while grabbing at your work uniform by it's hem and blushing, when his actions stopped you from rambling further. He had again started to clean you up with another handkerchief now, all the while smiling at you.

For some reason, even my neck feels very tingly now.

Wait- he always felt this way when he was with you...had you mixed something in your confectionery?!

He was almost going to become very serious about this situation and ask you about the ingredients. But then you looked up at him and smiled-

He lost all his composure. He could do nothing except for continuing to stare at you and reply with a robotic 'welcome'.

"Umm then... Would you like to come with me over here? I really doubt my luck right now so.."

"Sure thing" He smiled and complied, now standing beside you while you took out whatever you had baked for the day.

But then you suddenly grabbed his hands to save yourself from tripping.

His entire being went on high alert as he swiftly positioned himself behind you, your back being supported by his broad chest. His ears were completely red now.

"T-that was close!!" You shouted out, completely flustered. You were feeling perturbed now, anything could happen to you and your cupcakes with this dull luck of yours. Both his hands were supporting your shoulders now to help you stabilize, so taking this as an opportunity, you nudged the tray towards him without turning around.

Here goes nothing-

"Panda themed cupcakes for my most cherished customer and special person.... Hope you l-like them."

"Is this a gift?"

"Yes, of course, now hurry up and take it!"

He continued to stare at them for a few seconds, before taking one in his hand, all the while the other one holding your shoulder continued to tremble.

What is this texture?!!

He studied the cupcake, like it was some state-of-the-art sculpture. The texture of the panda cupcake was so fluffy, it looked so soft, it gazed at him so lovingly his sense of guilt almost compelled him to say no-

You had turned around.

Your eyes met his.

Your eyes

He immediately stuffed his face with two cupcakes.

The taste was so blissful he imagined himself being hugged by soft giant pandas... and you?

You were there hugging him?

He immediately snapped out of his blissful trance, your voice calling out to him very sweetly, asking him if he liked it, telling him that it was a special recipe for him and him only.

"Oh..."

He squeezed his coat fabric.

This feeling....it had nothing to do with the ingredients used. It was the baker, you, all along.

[yandere-sins]

Not to be the monsterfucker y'all know and love but I was running around, clearing the map today a bit while I was waiting for a visitor and I found these absolute UNITS of skeletons (They are called Death Shepherds):

Like HELLO???? I don't even mean that sexually but WHY ARE THEY SO FREAKIN' HOT???? (Sorry for the crap resolution on the first pic, I forgot screenshot's existed and used my phone, but then I remembered.)

Also they were HUGE BOYS (yes, plural, there were 2. Like Gale certainly has BJ height at most next to them, they were MASSIVE CHUNKS OF SKELETON AND ARMOR!!) compared to everyone else, even my Dragonborn Tav, and they kept reanimating the ghouls (which weren't as pretty), so I told my friend who was obviously appalled by how infatuated I was with the skeletons really tickled my inspiration for them, and I was thinking...

Yandere skeletons that are just your scary dog privilege, protection squad.

(And no, we are not sexualizing this time, this is not Sans Undertale.)

You should have died that day you met them, but without any apparent reason, they didn't attack you. They just watch you with their holes for eyes, ever so slightly creeping closer. It's not until the ghouls sticking around them notice you that you get into grave danger. You see those hungry, violent creatures charge at you, their claws scraping over stone and dirt as they come for your life, when, suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air and then flesh fills the crossroad where your unfortunate encounter takes place.

The scream ripping from your throat gets stuck as the head of the ghoul that attacked you rolls up to your feet, a now bloody sword lowering again as you hear the other ghouls whimper—whimper!—before they take off the other way. Instead, the two skeletons stalk closer, their armor rattling as if they were still living, breathing beings going off to war. Instead, one bends down, inspecting you with soulless eyes, its hand coming up to cup your cheek as if concerned with the horror etched into your face.

There's no getting rid of them. After standing around for what feels like ages, you are as confused as you are increasingly in a hurry to get away. Once you take enough steps away to turn your back to them without fearing being struck down, you make a mad dash for your life, running until your thighs burn and lungs beg for a moment to breathe—only to hear their armor rattle behind you.

Honestly, purely from a travel companion point of view, you cannot ask for anyone better. They are swift and skilled in battle, scaring away anyone who dares to come close to you, and incredibly low maintenance, as they don't need food or shelter, really. But they aren't mindless goons either, and that's where things get crazy.

Because one night, they decide they deserve cuddles for all the good they do.

As if being watched by the darkness in their eye sockets while you sleep isn't bad enough, you feel the hard armor press to your back one night, an arm—clothed but mere bones—wrapping around you from behind, face nestling into the nape of your neck. You can kind of come to terms with them trotting behind you all day, never saying anything, never leaving your side. You might even be thankful for their help when they keep robbers and goblins at bay and you out of any harm's way. Hell, you let them watch you do anything like eat, sleep, and—despite feeling unwarranted shame rake its claws down your body—bathe. But this was getting out of hand.

It could have been okay if it had only been a moment, but learning that these creatures sought out contact this intimate freaks you out. And it's never just a moment of putting their souls at ease, no. Because no matter how much you wriggle, they won't let go of you, their scraggy fingers digging into your flesh. You'll have to wait for them to switch if you want to try and escape, leaving everything behind to make a run for it in the middle of the night. But in stark contrast to you, who ran into the darkness without the time to collect things, they have all their belongings on them if they pick up their swords, and they can run endlessly without worrying about aches and stamina, catching up to you quickly. You'll just hang your head and be escorted back to camp when you decide to stop panicking, only for them to take the opportunity to rearrange and occupy both sides of your bedroll as they please once you want to lay down for another sleepless night.

It's not like you can get rid of them. You can't take them both on and if one falls, the other will just bring it back to life in an endless circle. You saw it before; no doubt it will happen again. Even if you talk to them, ask them questions, or shoo them away, they don't budge and cannot answer, getting into motion again only if you do. The most they ever give you to indicate their thoughts is laying their head to the side as if they don't understand you. Or admire you. Or stare at you adoringly. Who knows.

Things turn from bad to worse when you decide to end your adventure and return home. The stares you receive when you enter the city you live in with your hulking, undead companions are mortifying. Some people faint on the spot; others scream. And the two try to fight anyone trying to squeeze past them, seeing them as possible enemies to you. They made sure your life will never be the same. Neither friends nor family can get close to you, and no one dares to talk with you, trade, or even look your way. These two are creating a life where you'll be separated from anyone but them, and you begin to doubt they are doing it unintentionally. You'll never be able to free yourself unless you find a group that manages to actually kill them both.

But then again, as you stare at the night sky, stars twinkling above you, you can't help but feel bad for the two boney companions hugging you and resting their hard heads on your chest. The same ones that are so scarily indifferent, yet swift and merciless in a fight, straight out of a horror story with blood splattered on their white faces and swords in hand. Yet, they pick up flowers for you on the way or clean your equipment while you're asleep, hunting food for you and preparing it so you can cook and eat it right away. They are like needy puppies, putting their heads on top of yours while you read the map or admire the scenery, or hold onto your sleeve as you walk through a dark cave so you don't get lost. Clearly, they have some lingering sentiment, searching for warmth and affection from you. There's nowhere for you to run or hide, as they have all the time and strength to go after you. Maybe you shouldn't have given them names, shouldn't have treated them kindly when you started to travel together. But all these regrets come now when it's already too late.

Because they will let nothing and no one take you from them, no matter who or what they have to fight, just so they can have you all to themselves.

Their pretty, little, alive darling with a heart that races so fast whenever they do anything, be it scare or love you. 

__________________

Bonus points for you somehow dying despite their efforts (traps and magic are a bitch to avoid), so they keep reviving you, and they either... 

a.) succeed, and now you owe them your life and have to live with the knowledge of what it's like to die and that they'll most likely keep reviving you, even if you die of old age. So you'll suffer eternally with them.

b.) don't succeed, and can't accept/don't understand you're dead, so they carry your body around, trying to show you all the pretty things they learned you like as you slowly decay in their arms until you are a mere skeleton like them, so they lay you to rest in a grave with them, coming alive only when someone tries to rob your grave before returning to slumber next to you. You three won't even be apart in death.

Like, sorry guys, that's my emotional support yandere skeleton beloved ♥

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 5

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

"You know you boys look amazing in an apron." You wolf whistled at them both. Billy acted annoyed but he secretly loved the attention. Stu shook his ass at you making you laugh. Stu offered to do the dishes but for some odd reason they both fought over who would do them. Now there they stood aprons covering thier clothes. You and Stu practically had to hold down Billy as you tied the strings around him.

"I'll fix the popcorn!" You cheered hearing a groan from both men. "We just ate please..." Stu whined holding his stomach. "You two are party poopers. Well, while you do the dishes I'm going to change into my pajamas." Both their heads snapped towards you. "And I'm locking my door." You shouted down the hall.

You weren't really sure what to wear. You didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself but in a way you did. They had girlfriends you knew that. The way they looked at you however was addicting. You weren't going to sleep with them so what's the harm in looking good? A voice in your head screamed male validation but you ignored that. You pulled the silky nightgown from your closet debating on wearing it. "Too obvious." You muttered putting it back in the closet.

Leaning your head out of your room you shouted. "How cold is it supposed to get tonight?" Within seconds you hear them both answer. "Very cold, extremely cold, even freezing, it might snow." You know damn well in the air of California it wasn't going to snow. You grabbed a pair of silky shorts and pulled out the matching top. That would have to do. Once you were changed you went back to the kitchen seeing the dishes were all done. "Thank you guys."

"Thank you for dinner." Billy said honestly. "Yeah what he said." Stu was laid out on the carpet as Billy glared at him. "Anytime boys." Stu looked at your new outfit trying to figure out how you looked so hot in pajamas. "Why didn't you wear what Bil- what we got you?" He corrected himself. You plopped down on the couch next to Billy. "Because I knew if I did, you two wouldn't want to watch a movie." Stu nodded as he shrugged knowing you were right. "Who said I wanted to watch a movie now?" Billy said dangerously close to your ear. You jumped up going towards the TV. "Alright! What are we watching first?"

Christine was pretty good, not as good as Stu made it out to be though. "The coolest car ever!" Stu shouted which you quickly shushed him. "I don't live out in the country like some people, keep your voice down." Stu covered his mouth in regret. "Yeah Stu keep your voice down." Billy repeated and you slapped his chest. "Ow!" He laughed. "My turn, put on Ferris Bueller's day off." Stu groaned sliding off the couch and over to the VCR.

"You'll love it. If you liked Dazed and Confused you'll like this." Billy cocked his head. "You never told me you liked that movie?" Stu ignored his friend's eyes focusing on the tape. "I saw it once." He played it off which confused you. "Once? You said you went to see it at the movies 4 times." Stu silently begged for you to shut up. "You never told me that." Billy said once again a calmness to his voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd care." Stu bit back. "What else are you not telling me?" You realized very quickly this could get worse somehow. "God you two fight like a married couple. Just put the movie in and get up here I'm freezing."

The arguing stopped immediately. Once the movie started Stu sat at the end on the sofa leaving you in the middle. Carefully you wiggled down laying your head on Billy's lap. "This doesn't bother you does it?" His eyes glanced down and back up again just as fast. "No you're good." Stu grabbed your legs laying them on his lap. Ever so often he'd drag his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. After a while he genuinely started to like the movie. "Those two are so banging."

"That's what I was thinking." Billy responded to Stu. "You think Ferris and Cameron are a couple?" Stu made a noise shaking his head. "Did you see the way they look at each other or how no matter what bullshit Ferris drags him into he goes along with it?" The room grew silent with a unanimous acknowledgment of the current similarity. The movie continued and so did Stu's commentary. "Oh no, all three of them are fucking." You laughed and Billy took notice. "What's so funny about that?"

"Oh nothing it's just I can see it." The movie continued with Stu laughing his ass off at some parts. Billy's hand found it's way into your hair playing with what he could grab. Slowly your eyes fell shut. "She reminds me of you almost." Stu said turning to look at you. "Man she's asleep." Stu loudly announced, annoyed you both didn't finish the movie. Billy looked down watching your chest slowly go in and out. "Then why are you yelling?" Billy snapped. "Sorry." The boy mumbled. "Cut all this off while I take her upstairs."

"Why do you get to put her to bed she barley even trusts you awake?" This Billy found particularly funny. "That's rich coming from the guy that's done nothing but hit on her since you met her." Stu moved your legs standing up off the couch. "I do that with everyone it's charming." He laughed until he saw the way Billy was looking down at you. "Why do I get the feeling I'm being replaced?" Stu paced on the shag carpet. Billy sighed not wanting this shit right now. "We'll talk about this later."

"No I think we'll talk about it now. A year ago you came to me in need and I did everything I could to help. It was month after month of "I was drunk" or "I don't even remember it." I put up with it hoping once this was all said and done with, we'd run away and have our sequel. That was the plan wasn't it Billy?" You wavered in and out of consciousness barley piecing together what was being said. "She's different Stu and you know that. You feel it too. I need time to think to plan around this." He looked down at you noticing your eyes twitch. "We'll talk about this later."

Stu knew that was the end of the conversation. "Y/n..." He gingerly whispered trying to wake you up. "Mhm?" You stirred swearing they were fighting. "What's wrong?" You asked trying to look around. "Nothing's wrong we were trying to figure out if we should pause the movie or not. I'm going to take you to bed and me and Stu will head there shortly." You just rolled over burying your head against his stomach. Billy slowly moved off the couch, picking you up bridal style. Stu followed making sure Billy followed your rules.

Billy placed you softly in bed hoping to just look at you for a bit. "If it's too cold on the floor you can climb in here." You mumbled. You weren't in your right mind Billy knew that and so did Stu. That wasn't stopping them however. "Go cut the lights and everything off then bring your bag up here." Stu like the good little soldier he was, he did as told.

"Here." He handed Billy his sweat pants. "We're sleeping in our shirts." Billy said as he unbuckled his belt. "What why? We never sleep with our shirts on." Billy folded his pants sitting them on the chair in the corner. "Because if she wakes up and sees us half naked beside her she's liable to freak thinking we did something. So please, just do as as I say for once." Stu had to give Billy this one. He was the smartest piece of shit in town.

Stu was the first one in bed with you. Making you roll over and wrap your arm around him. "Billy look!" He whispered like you were a cat in a cute position. You tossed your leg over him next making it impossible for him to move. "Billy help! Her feet are fucking freezing!" He whispered once more earing a laugh from Billy. "She looks so peaceful doesn't she?" He taunted as Stu struggled against your restraints. Before getting into bed Billy cut off the light making the house seem earily dark.

Billy climbed in, his back towards you and Stu. Without warning you rolled over putting Billy in the same position Stu was. "She makes a good big spoon don't you think?" He taunted back but deep down Billy had never felt more comfortable. "Shut the fuck up." He mumbled holding your hand that rested over his waist. His thumb traced little circles on you hand. Stu scooted behind you. He snuggled up knowing damn well all three of you would wake up in a cold sweat from just being around each other all night. "Goodnight boys." Your voice was dangerously clear. Stu was already half asleep but Billy however heard you. He wasn't sure how much you knew but he'd have to quickly figure it out.

(If your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 6

Taglist: @katie-tibo @danodoll21 @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607

[sugaryapplepie]

Twinshot/Necroshot

Art by @cosmic-fishy Eyeshot AU belongs to @dynamicsimp

Tags: Yandere Content, WLM, OC x Canon, Drabble, Twinshot, Necroshot

AN: Small reminder to be respectful in my inbox pls & thank you <3

Xingshen's hand shakily grabbed at the doorframe as she willed her aching legs to move. Her sharp teeth were clenched as she forced left to go before right. Star couldn't stay here, it wasn't safe. A thump from around the corner made her pause, holding her breath as she flattened herself against the wall. Slowly, after counting out ten breaths, she peeked around the corner into th darkness of the living room. Nothing that she could see, but then again, stars eyesight was always worse in dim lighting.

It was why they kept the lights low.

After twenty more breaths, Xingshen gritted stars teeth. One...two...three...keep it quiet, keep steady...four...five...six...

Just a few more paces to the door...

Seven...eight...

A small creak. The floorboards. She paused, heart pounding, stars hand desperately outstretched for the doorknob. Thirty more breaths. No one there, must be the old apartment settling.

Against her better judgement, star goes for it. She takes the first few steps forward in a dash but wobbles, falling to the floor with a loud BANG! The lights turn on, flooding her vision. She winces and softly gasps, too in pain to scream as she shuts her eyes.

"Xixi? What're you doin' out here, you're supposed to be in bed!"

Xingshen doesn't have to open her eyes to recognize the teasingly disappointed tones. Star feels Wukong lifting her up.

"That was a nasty fall there. You're such a goof!" he chuckles, rubbing his cheek against hers. "What were you doing out here? Ohhh I know! You missed us, didn't you~? Awww, Xixi, we told you we'd be right here if you needed us!"

And speaking of the other half, a woosh told Xingshen that Macaque had arrived. The lack of brightness against her eyelids told her he had mercifully extinguished the lights.

"Jeez, Xingshen, you're so clingy. We just put you to bed an hour ago! Then again, I guess I can't blame ya."

Xingshen felt Macaque ruffle her hair. If it were anyone else star would've bitten their hand off, but she learned what happened if star retaliated. She felt herself being carried back to her bed, placed now on a body-sized ice pack. In spite of starself, Xingshen let out a relieved sigh as stars joints began to be soothed.

"Maybe we oughta get her a walker, or a cane. Or a wheelchair." "Nahhh, what does Xi need that for when she's got us? It's like we promised: she won't have to lift a finger while we're here! And since she missed us so much..." Xingshen felt Macaque and Wukong hop on the bed, crawling under the covers and snuggling close so she's pressed between the both of them, their soft fur a pleasing texture.

Wukong stroked her back with his claws. "Now this time, stay asleep. You know what the doctor said, you need your rest. Next time you get up before nap time's over we'll do more than cuddles." He kissed the top of stars head.

Xingshen sighed internally. She'd have to wait a few days to make another bid for freedom. In the meanwhile, all she could do was sink into a hazy sleep as the coolness of the ice pack washed over her body.

[iliketangerines]

So I’ve been thinking- Kung Lao gets treated so unfairly and had every chance to become a villain. It makes me so sad I know he has so much burden- I just want to hug him close to my chest and let him cry his heart out while telling him it’s ok to cry and be vulnerable- ((Raidens probably told him not to show weakness and been really hard on him)) I would sacrifice everything for Kung Lao-

So the request is- maybe Kung Lao and reader are fighting on one of the boats ((mk11 aftermath)) and reader sees shao khan heading towards Kung Lao and they see red. They then jump shao khan and beat the every living shit out of him- killing him and by the end they’re out of breath- fist covered in blood and by the end of the whole battle they tell Kung Lao that they couldn’t have anyone take him away.

i can't lose you

a/n: mmmmmm kung lao....

pairing: kung lao x gn!reader

warnings: canon-typical violence

it’s bloody as you rip through the Netherrealm spawn

they’re easy enough to dispose of, mindless soldiers who only knew how to slash and claw, none of the tact that warriors usually possessed

you slice through another one of the soldiers, making your way to the railing and scanning the area for any specific spots you can target

and then you see it, Shao Kahn with his clawed hands around Kung Lao’s neck, laughing boisterously with Sindel by his side and throwing Kung Lao against the railing, making the wood crack with the force

you can see Kung Lao cough, blood spurting from his mouth, and he wipes it away, getting back onto his feet and taking a fighting stance

but his shoulder is bleeding, one of his arms is injured, and you’re sure that he can’t see out of his left eye with the way blood flows into it

you can see them cornering him, and you can’t, you can’t lose him

balancing yourself on the railing, you jump as far as you can, landing on a Netherrealm spawn and killing it as it cushions your fall

you stumble up as fast as you can, throwing one of your daggers and letting it bury itself in Shao Kahn’s exposed calf, and the tyrant roars, looking back at you

his eyes are trained on you, and he raises his axe toward your bleeding figure before charging and leaving Sindel alone with Kung Lao

he’s relentless, swinging and tearing holes into the wooden flooring as you dash and dodge, only getting a few swipes in

but he’s slow and bulky with his swings, and you use it to your advantage to have him kill off the Netherrealm spawn that you stand in front of or bring forward to throw into the axe

he’s getting frustrated and runs toward you, nearly flattening you as you dodge in just the nick of time, and he rams into the large wooden mast of the ship

but he’s back on his feet, running towards you, and you run in the opposite direction, weaving in between the fighting opponents

you can hear him barrelling through them, his heavy footstep never faltering as he chases you through the battle

running toward the edge of the ship, you hold onto the railing and look over the endless bloody sea and turn to Shao Kahn roaring at you and gaining speed

and just as his axe swings in your direction, you fall off to the side, scrambling to get away from his attack, and he barrels through the railing and into the sea

he would die like that, you know he will as you hear his screams drown in the commotion of battle

and then you look back to Sindel, Kung Lao steadily chopping off her hair with his bladed hat, and you run toward her, attempting to distract her

her hair fights back, and you momentarily snort at the thought of fighting hair, before you’re whipped away into a soldier

you apologize quickly, grabbing onto them and rolling you and them out of the way of a Netherrealm soldier’s claws ripping through the wooden floors, and you push them back up to their feet to let them continue their fight

and you scramble to your feet again when you realize her hair is coming down on you to whip you back into the ground

it’s a game of dodge as her hair whips in all kinds of directions, and you try to dance around her and get herself to tangle herself in her hair

but she’s smarter than Shao Kahn and simply throws you to the side when you manage to get caught by one of her traps

and so you rush her, Kung Lao drawing her hair away, and you tackle her to the ground, fumbling for your weapons with one hand, but they’re all gone

the last one must’ve been the one you flung into Shao Kahn’s leg

she strangles you with her hands, crushing your windpipe, and you struggle to breathe as you similarly try to choke her

you can feel your breathe fading away, and you can hear her laughter in your ears

and then there’s a spray of blood against your face, and you can breathe again, your lungs taking in deep gulps of air as you stare at a beheaded Sindel

and then there’s Kung Lao kneeling down next to you, hands running over your figure and checking that you’re okay and if everything was alright

you throw your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a tight hug, and he hugs you back, burying his head into your shoulder

he murmurs that he thought he was going to lose you, and you laugh and say you thought the same

a gunshot flies by your head, shooting right through the head of a nearing Netherrealm beast and you look up and find Cassie Cage nearby and rolling her eyes

she tells you both to save the kissing for after the war and holds her hand out for you to grab and help yourself up

you do so, and then help Kung Lao up, keeping a hold of his hand as you brought it up and kiss the back of his fingers

you promise him a date after all of this was after, and he smiles at you, flicking the rimming of his hat and saying that you better not back out

and then the both of you were back to fighting, side by side