#sorry ashley the grind stops for no one

[kisracora]

my playthrough of the re4 remake has been going well

[coleskingdom]

Hands on You

Jay White x F Reader

Genre: smut minors DNI NSFW

Summary:

Reader enjoys Jays promo and it gives her an idea

Tags @madhatterbri @midwestmade29

“ I can remind you on any given night exactly why I’m the catalyst of professional wrestling “ Jay said as I watched from the locker room. He was pure switchable, the crowd eating out of his hands, he was sex personified.

He walked back through the locker room doors, “Hey Sweetheart “, a kiss on the top of my head , “ Having fun?” he asked grinning as my eyes never left his upper body. “ Do you want to remind me that you’re the catalyst? “ eyeing him up and down. “ Did you watch the match or did you just watch me?” his cocky smirk “What do you think?” I asked “Sweetheart, I think you heard my promo, and have been staring at me all night. If the look you’re giving me is any indication. Normally I’d remind you that my eyes are up here, but I’m curious what’s been on that mind of yours.”.His eyes locking on mine as he changed , his movements slow and methodical.“Sorry it’s been a minute, since I’ve seen you this …” I said biting my lip. “I’ll tell you later what I was thinking “standing up kissing him, what was supposed to be a quick kiss, turned into a kiss where we both were fighting for control, he relented. “Later it is then” a wink and a grin as he put his arm around me.

We stayed for the remainder of the show,and a little while at the after party. “ I still want to hear, what you were thinking about earlier.” he whispered in the crowded room. My face blushed “Jay stop” I said “ So prim and proper in public. Isn’t there a song about “a lady in the..” I play slapped him on the stomach. “You’ve been waiting all night for a reason to touch me. Let’s get out of here.”

In the back of the car, Jay pulled me close to him. His lips finding the spot behind my ear “are you going to tell me, or are you going to show me?” his voice warm in my ear. I sighed his lips moved down my neck. “What is that you want? I haven’t seen you this desperate for me in a while. So what was it tonight?” Come on Sweetheart tell me,” he said as the car came to a stop . He offered his hand as we got out of the car, and headed into the hotel and up the elevator.

In the elevator I don’t know who moved first, one moment we were inches apart the next we were melded together. I sank my teeth into his bottom lip, and his hands squeezed my ass. His mouth moved on mine, fighting for control, I relented,as the ding of the elevate signaled our floor . Walking down the hallway to our room, he grabbed my ass and playfully swatted at it.

“We are alone now, so I’m going to ask one last time, what was it tonight?”his voice low and warm, “ Jay, there was just something different about you, your confidence, your command of everything, the way your abs and arms looked in that cut down the middle shirt, that little peak of the V. I thought about grinding on your abs…” he cut me off with a kiss I knew how much he liked it when I praised him and his body, that he needed that.

There was nothing slow about the way that we disrobed I reached for my bra" leave it for now" he mumbled his mouth on my neck. “ Give me a second” he said climbing into bed, he situated himself laying flat on the bed, “Come here sweetheart, I know just what you need but first strip the rest of the way”his voice in full command I climbed into bed, “straddle me” I followed his direction situating my self above his very obvious hard on “No sweetheart move further up, there you go” as I hovered over his stomach his hands on my hips lowered me on to him his hands rocking my hips. “Go ahead fuck yourself by grinding on my abs” his hands encouraging me to move faster. “Jay I …” I felt myself get wetter as he guided my hips, “ I guessed right, this has been what you wanted all night. Now show me how much you want it.” He released my hips but I kept rocking, my hands firmly planted on his chest rocking harder, he flexed and released his abs, causing me to moan. “ How long have you thought about doing this. Making a mess on my abs , all you had to do was ask sweetheart. “ Jay I can’t” my words failing me. “ Yes you can, your doing so good for me. Your legs are squeezing me so tight” his voice a low rasp. “ Touch me Jay” I begged. His hand reached up and began playing with my breast squeezing and rolling my nipple. “ Jay so close, it feels so good.”I cried, “ I know, you’re so beautiful”he tightened his abs again making them rigid as my body moved on his “Go ahead and cum for me” and that’s all it took my body tensed and I leaned forward enough that he captured my lips as I moaned in pleasure, his hands going to my hips making sure that I got every ounce of pleasure. As my body collapsed on his, he removed his hands from my hips and began to stroke my back before he wrapped his arms around me.

“Sweet girl, you did so good” his voice softer. I buried my face in his shoulder, “Jay, I can’t believe I did that” I mumbled. He just laughed and rolled us over.

[donnydamakkk]

What are your unpopular opinions on any/all of the BAU women?

(i saw the word unpopular after so i jus gave general opinions shdgsdjdsdk sorry but some of it is prolly unpopular anyway)

jennifer jareau is the apple of my mothafuckin eye fr. the literal love of my life. i am so serious when i say every blonde woman that i have ever found attractive needs to bow down before her (n samantha stephens) n kiss the mothafuckin ring. she is so slept on n i feel like people don't really understand or appreciate the many layers of her. i feel like she's so widely misunderstood. tbh people's takes on her tend to make my eye twitch real bad. as beautiful as she is, i feel like "soft", beautiful looks contribute a lot to her massive mischaracterization. except rosie's; she understands jj, she gets it. but for the most part, i dont feel like people should b allowed to speak on her bcus they're prolly wrong. (also butch jj is the best hc ever, but we all know i feel that way)

i really love emily prentiss, i do. she's intelligent, soulful, goofy in a way that doesn't feel ridiculous or stupid (contrary to a lot of fanon portrayal) but i mostly feel like that about early seasons emily. the more she left n returned, the less it seemed like the writing for her character was true to her n it started to feel bland. i often ask myself in later seasons where her personality went bcus at a some point she jus feels kinda blank n like shes there for fan service. it isn't emily's fault tho; it's all the writers. i love emily tho. also i hc her as bisexual now bcus idk i feel like u would have to swing from multiple vines to participate in sin to win; i can see her being w women n men equally as far as sex goes but being more likely to fall in love w women but sometimes she'll fall in love w a man n b like, well shit... ok n rockin w it but yes, shes a bi babe. i have also concluded that homegirl has a type n jj would b the exception to her rule/type bcus emily is def robert deniro (iyyk). anyway....

no one is allowed to hate elle greenaway, alright? as much as i do love gideon, everything that went wrong elle is his n hotch's fault n i mean that wholeheartedly. anyway, she was a cool as a fan w ice in it, bruh. i b missing her so much. also, i was proud of her when she shot that serial rapist; he was never gon stop offending. she did the right thing.

jordan todd was such a sweet, sensitive baby but she was functional n driven n i like that. she's also flirty. i like that too. idk man. i loved her so much, and ya know, i really loved her for really highlighting all the work jj does and reminding them all to like really appreciate her. she was a great temp; i hope she's happy somewhere. also i will never not scream about this but HER AND EMILY PRENTISS GOT NASTY n i would like to see it (:

i didn't enjoy ashley seaver or her arc. contrary to popular belief, it isn't bcus she replaced jj. it's bcus shes the only team member they've ever had that was there without any actual professional merit. girl wasnt even finished w the academy, and i, for one, did not enjoy watching what was essentially an internship. also she was boring so.

i like penelope garcia a lot; she's fun n she's sweet. i would like to write for her more but i find it difficult bcus she doesn't feel like a real person to me. which is like not to say i haven't met people like her bcus i have but whenever i do, it's kinda jarring n i always feel like i jus hallucinated. also my view of emotions is... yeah. so, there are times where she's kinda paralyzed w emotions that grind me a bit bcus idk i kinda feel like if ur emotions aren't servicing u in that moment then u needa jus suck it up n deal w them later, u not getting nowhere if u crying to much to function n then u still have this problem; so suck it up n deal w the problem n cry later n she has to b reminded of that often which again grinds me a bit but thats a me thing. i dont hold that against PG but it's jus sumn that we are not compatible on n that's fine. also i love love love love love love her n her dynamic w morgan ofc but some of the nicknames she calls him makes me personally uncomfortable as a black person but i mean hey... also, evolution was a disgusting disservice to her character n she deserves to b happy n at peace w her life away from the bau; she coulda came back without getting sucked back into a job that was messing her up mentally. she deserves better

i don't really have an opinion of kate callahan. i don't like her. i don't dislike her. i simply did not connect to her at all; also s10 wasn't a strong season fr so that ain't even really her fault. i do like that scene w her n my jocks on the plane tho. i like jennifer love hewitt tho (maddie buckley is that bitch fr). she b cool in stuff.

alex blake, my beloved fr; she calms me. i love that. i really really really loved her on the team; i loved how that version of the team functioned so much. it's one of, if not my favorite version of the team. she is the best (later seasons) replacement character hands down. god, i loved everything about her. literally everything about her. i fr don't have any notes, 11/10 fr. i miss her terribly. i would also let her do unspeakable things to my body so long as she talks me thru it n i know she would. anyway, i hope she's happy teaching n living her life <3

okay don't jump me but like the v worst thing any show could do to me w any character is introduce them w terrible hair. it's shallow as fuck, i will admit that but if that's how i first meet them? baby! i will never get over it, i will never unsee it n it will impact my ability to consume that character moving forward. that to say n i do hate to say it but tara lewis is a character who has fallen victim to this. they shoulda never introduced her in that fuckass wig. it pisses me off jus thinkin about it n she was in it for a while so as shallow n terrible as it is, it affected my connection to her. but it is what it is, im not apologizing for it. also, she has the horrific misfortune of being introduced in the late late late seasons when for the most part they wasn't even trying in the writers room fr, which sucks. bcus im gonna b particularly honest here, i dont feel a thing for her or luke. i like matt bcus i watched beyond borders n bcus i mentally connect him to jj as her male tethered. i also, so sorry, don't care that she's queer; i don't like how that whole thing was written. it didn't do shit for me at all. really, in conclusion, tara lewis is a victim to criminal minds writing team n costume department. so justice for tara!! but no yea she not my homie or nothin like that; i don't hate her tho.

[leagueofdccm]

" Don't say another word about him. " For Homelander

screaming omfg || @twiicetheheart

MEETING WITH THE SEVEN AND TALKS OF SO-CALLED SOLDIER BOY has only brought RAGE WITHIN HOMELAND. That bastard had called him a disappointment, weak. How fucking dare he ? He was going ON & ON about how Soldier Boy was the one who was a disappointment, a fucking nobody ! A sad excuse for a superhero. He goes on about how once he gets his hands on Soldier Boy, he will do RIGHT BY squeezing his shitty life out of him and parading his body around for all to see. To witness Homelander killing VOUGHT'S once upon-a-time ' hero of all heroes ' Bullshiit. Such fucking BULLSHIT ! kept going ON---- The Deep and A-train watching from the side along with Ashley. They would nod their heads in agreement; at least The Deep did. Nobody dared go against what he said... well, that's what they thought until Michelle spoke up. THIS--- shocked Homelander.

" What did you just say ? "He stopped pacing back and forth, turning quickly to face Michelle. A human, not a supe, was talking back to him, talking against him, and he ALMOST LAUGHED and found it CUTE how SHE--- was defending SOLDIER BOY ? Who the FUCK DID SHE think he was ? Homelander approaches her. Every step he takes towards Michelle is as threatening as the next; he can feel his teeth grinding together; enough force could perhaps shatter his teeth if he isn't careful. His icy blues burned with rage. He seized Michelle, GRABBING HER BY the throat to force her closer to him, his face right up in hers as he let out a low growl. " I'm sorry I couldn't quite grasp what you just said ? Di-- did you just tell me not to say a word about Soldier Boy ? WHY ? Why are you defending him, hm ? He's pathetic. He's a fucking mistake. And you--- " Homelander laughs dryly; he doesn't know whether to be AMUSED OR PISSED OFF. " You want me to stop bashing his name, is that it ? "

[sailtoafarawayland]

Oh, Captain!

Summary - Emma think’s she’s hurt Killian and deals with the consequences, saving him from himself just might be the one she didn’t see coming. 

Rated for all, no warnings. 

Tumblr Exclusive for now- will be posted over at AO3 and FF (Farawayland) when life allows. I just needed to write some happy what with all this not happy I’m watching on the news. Most likely a one-shot. 

Chapter 1

Emma’s heart was in her throat.

He knew.

He knew, and she hadn’t even been the one to tell him.

“Don’t!” she pleaded, catching up to him and snatching at his sleeve, her fingers seizing the thin, black fabric and wrapping around his forearm. “Killian, please…”

The warmth of her hand, the chill of her fingertips—they were always so cold, despite his many attempts to warm them—stopped him in his tracks, the tension between them slackening as he allowed himself to be swayed back toward her, but she held on tightly, too afraid to let him go.

Afraid of what he would do.

“Am I supposed to simply let it go, Emma?”

She could hear the outrage, low and dangerous, in his voice—and it hurt, because she knew it was her fault.

“Belle shouldn’t have said anything—I told her not to, that I would handle it. I just wanted to wait until after tonight. I was afraid if you knew he’d kissed—”

“He kissed you?” Killian growled, his features darkening as he yanked his arm from her grasp, the prop hook clattering to the floor between them as he stormed toward center stage where Neal was mid-scene with Tinkerbell.

“Shit,” Emma groaned.

Belle probably hadn’t mentioned that, had probably only implied she’d seen Neal hitting on her and refusing to take no for an answer, but had left out the part where he’d tried to steal a kiss.

Emma didn’t know why she had so much trouble with words—why the things in her head couldn’t just exit her mouth in the right way, or at least in a way that didn’t always make things worse. It should have been so easy to explain—that the minute Neal leaned in, she’d shoved him halfway across the library, and if that hadn’t left an impression, she had a right hook ready. That in that moment, she’d been so sorry that she’d insisted on keeping her relationship with Killian a secret. That she wanted nothing more than to have been sitting there with his hand wrapped in hers, for everyone to see—no one else trying to take what wasn’t theirs.

Emma wavered where she stood, not sure how to process the shit show everything had become in such a small space of time. Killian was seething, his black leather coat flaring behind him as he stalked across the stage—much to the surprise of the cast performing. Ashley stumbled over her line and twisted her hands in the lime green tutu she wore as Killian reached them, his long fingers wrapping around Neal’s shoulder and jerking him into an about-face.

The gasps of confusion from the opposite wing were audible as everyone tried to figure out why Killian was on stage when he shouldn’t be, and the murmurs from the audience were no better. She was sure they were all wondering why Captain Hook was confronting Peter Pan out of nowhere. Time slowed as she watched Neal’s features twist from surprised to nervous, her eyes snapping down to Killian’s hand as he clenched it into a tight fist. She couldn’t take her eyes off the chunky, heavy jewelry from the prop department adorning his knuckles.

Props that she knew he was about to drive into Neal Cassidy’s face.

Principal Gold’s son.

The man who always had it out for Killian.

“Shit.”

Her boyfriend was about to get expelled, and it was all her fault. She should have told him earlier, but she couldn’t fix that now. She had to do something—anything—now.

Trying not to think about how far from normal this opening night was turning out to be, or how Wendy had no place in this scene, she rushed after him, doing the only thing she could think of to keep him from getting thrown out of his senior year.

“Oh, Captain!” she cried, feigning exhaustion and leaning heavily against the backdrop of painted, wooden jungle. She paused for a moment, catching her breath and glancing warily behind her, as if she were afraid at any minute something dangerous was going to pounce from the bushes.

Three sets of eyes from center stage turned to her, along with every head in the packed auditorium.

She caught her breath and tidied the blue bow perched on top of her perfect curls. “You found me! I thought I would be trapped here forever—”

Killian’s grip was still white-knuckled on Neal, who was starting to squirm uncomfortably, and Ashley looked like she wished she could actually turn into a ball of light and fly away, but she could see the curious sparkle in Killian’s eye beneath a cheekily arched brow, and it gave her the bravado she needed to keep going. She had no idea where this scene was headed with her at the helm, but it didn’t really matter.

Saving the play wasn’t the point.

Saving Killian was—the rest would just be a bonus if she could pull it off, so she continued.

“—stuck caring for Pan’s lost boys, washing their socks, cooking their meals, and do I ever get a thank you, Wendy—what delicious coconut salad, Wendy? No, never!” Righteous indignation flooded her face and she straightened her dress brusquely, angling toward the audience as she arched an eyebrow and rested her hands on her hips. “And let me tell you, not a single washing machine or microwave on the whole island.”

Not waiting for the reaction, but smiling inwardly as the wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, she turned her attention back to the strange trio that was a squeamish looking Peter Pan, a very nervous fairy, and an inscrutable Captain Hook. Relief washed over her as she saw Killian’s face losing that dark edge as she approached, her breath catching in her throat as they locked eyes. It may have been a cliché, but he’d always been able to do that to her, to just steal her breath away. It didn’t help that he looked sinful as anything in that pirate get-up. She thanked her lucky stars that he’d tossed that ridiculous wig and hat in the trash and decided to give Captain Hook his own spin.

He met her halfway between the wing and centerstage, letting go of Neal’s arm without a backward glance. To her surprise, the spotlight followed him, bathing them both in its glare as they came together. Her hand brushed along the rough stubble of his jaw before settling on the back of his neck, his arms circling her, and though he was dressed as a pirate, the possessive squeeze of his hand at her waist was all him.

There was anger and regret simmering, she could see it in the way he held his jaw, but there was also happiness, and laughter, and something more in the warmth of his eyes—something she would catch glimpses of sometimes when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, but she knew what it was, and that he held back for her—because she’d been so insistent about keeping everything between them a secret, because for some reason she was terrified if she admitted what she felt, and what she wanted, that she would lose it. It was a silly thing, and now it had hurt them.

“I never thought I’d fall in love with a pirate—” and it was not how she thought she’d tell him she loved him, so it was probably good that technically it was Wendy telling Captain Hook—“but you see me when no one else really does—made me realize that I have dreams, Captain. I can do anything I set my mind to. I can be anything—a lawyer, a sheriff, a high-end fashion designer specializing in faux-crocodile-vegan-leather accessories…”

She had no idea where that came from, but the raucous laughter from the audience made her feel a little better—at least they were having a good night. Then her gaze slipped to the side and she finally saw all of the horrified faces of the cast and crew watching the debacle from backstage. Well, maybe there was no way she was going to save the show, but even if Gold let loose, he couldn’t put the blame solely on Killian now. She was in the thick of it too, and she doubted he’d go so far as to expel Sheriff Nolan’s daughter.

“I’ve yet to see you fail, Wendy,” Killian asserted, and though the name was wrong and he was projecting enough to reach the back of the auditorium, she knew the words were meant for her, because he’d always believed in her, always believed in them.

She hated that she had been so afraid of what this could be, that she hid it away, worried if she put her heart out there, it would all fall apart.

“While I used to think that catching that crocodile was my happy ending,” Killian continued, grinding his jaw at the thought of the sneaky reptile, “I know now that it’s you, it’s always been you, so tell me, love,” and he dipped his lips closer to hers, teasing a kiss before turning his gaze on the audience, a rakish grin spreading across his face as he gestured broadly over the crowd, “will you sail away with me?”

“Always,” she breathed, “to the end of the world, and time!”

There was a roar of noise from the audience—laughter, clapping, whooping, whistling—and while she had no idea where the words had come from, what came next, well, that was no mystery. She grabbed her pirate, hands fisted in his jacket as she rocked into him, bodies swaying as their lips clashed. It didn’t matter that they were standing in front of the entire school, every detail illuminated by the hot spotlight—in that moment, there was nothing but the two of them.

It wasn’t until they broke apart—and if people hadn’t known about them before, they sure did now—that Emma heard anything outside their bubble, but then it hit—the crowd was clapping and laughing, perhaps at the insanity of it all, but who cared. Gold’s voice was cutting through the chaos backstage, reaching that thin, forced pitch that meant he was furious, and Belle was already picking up the pieces. Neal was grumbling and nursing his arm—maybe the best acting he’d ever done—beating a retreat from the stage, and the rest of the cast and crew couldn’t take their eyes off of her and Killian as they scrambled to close the curtains and help Belle figure out what came next.

Emma tugged Killian into the wing and back through the stacks of equipment and props to a quiet corner, wanting to find a place they could speak, but also to remove him from Gold’s eyesight as quickly as possible.

“I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Emma,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she could see the truth in his words. “I’m not upset with you. How could I be?”

“It was my fault. If I hadn’t insisted that we keep our relationship a secret, then he…”

“Oh, Swan. It is not your fault that Neal assaulted you.”

“Assault is a little…look, if he had known we were together, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss me.”

“He shouldn’t have tried to force a kiss on you, regardless. You’ve been more than clear, for years, that you have no interest in him. Though, maybe I shouldn’t have lost my temper and stormed the stage,” Killian admitted, ducking his head and scratching his ear in that way that always made her heart flutter. “Thanks for saving me from myself, lass.”

“I meant what I said, Killian,” she whispered, her voice dropping as she pushed the words out before they could crawl back in. “I think…I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the hook, Swan?” he teased, giving her the out, because he just understood her that well, but she could see the hope in his eyes, and suddenly all of that old trepidation was gone.    

“You’re not even wearing the hook,” she pointed out. “I’m sure, Killian Jones. I love you, whether you’re a smoldering-eyed pirate, or not.”

“You think my eyes smolder?”

“Stop it!” she laughed, shaking his shoulders gently as he waggled his brows at her, the both of them enjoying the smile of the other before he grew serious once more.

“And I love you, Emma—so much.”

“Yeah, I know.”

 *     *     *

Gold’s fury had tapered down to mild annoyance by the next morning, no small thanks to Sydney Glass and his cover story on their humble production. He’d praised the comical genius of their work, calling it far from ‘just another retelling of the same old story’. He highlighted the unexpected romance and praised the heartfelt acting of the two leads, whose whirlwind chemistry swept the audience away. He even went so far as to paint the play as a tongue-in-cheek examination of eternal youth versus personal growth, and while Emma thought that the whole piece was a little lofty, she was more than happy that there hadn’t been any blowback on Killian for his stage-crashing.

Overall, opening night hadn’t been a total failure, and Belle had been more than capable of a hasty rewrite for their follow-up performances. While Neal wasn’t thrilled with his sudden decrease in lines, Emma was hardly going to complain that she got to kiss her smoldering-eyed Killian Jones on stage each night—and if the hook and pirate costume went missing from the prop department for some reason, she doubted anyone would notice.

 END

[davidobitch]

Beg For It | Jeff Wittek

ok so i took this from here. nobody requested it but me and ashley (as always) were talking about one of jeff’s 203 sides and i needed to write this. so thank you ashley for this. my inspo for probably everything now.

this just might be the actual filthiest thing i’ve ever written so um yeah majorrr smut warning.

Your music blared through Jeff’s apartment as you went room to room, cleaning everything to perfection. It was no surprise that this quarantine was getting to your head and the only thing you could do was clean all day. So that’s what you did.

Jeff made it very clear that touching any of his barber things when he’s not around is the only thing off limits. But does that mean cleaning his area is off limits, too? You were about to find out.

Just as you were about done without putting anything out of its place, your hip accidentally knocks his desk causing things to fall everywhere. Not only were hairspray and hair gel bottles everywhere, but sitting right at your feet, in too many pieces to fix, were his hair clippers.

“Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” You scrambled to pick up the pieces, making sure not to leave anything on the ground. Tears pricked your eyes, knowing how pissed your boyfriend is going to be when he gets home.

You debated for the next hour whether or not you should tell Jeff now or wait to tell him face to face. For a lot of people, they wouldn’t see the problem with the accident. But Jeff’s entire life revolved around cutting hair. Those clippers were like his baby and you were dreading the moment you had to tell him.

It wasn’t long before Jeff finally came home. Which means you didn’t have enough time to prepare for the disaster that was about to happen.

“Hi baby,” Jeff says as he drops his keys on the counter and walks over to you. You stayed silent as you stared at your boyfriend, mentally telling him you fucked up. “(Y/N) what happened...baby what did you do?” His voice was low, but his words laced with slight anger.

“It was an accident. I-”

“(Y/N)...”

Tears brimmed your eyes, your gaze focusing on anything that wasn’t Jeff, “I was cleaning and I wanted to make your space really nice so you didn’t have to do it and you could relax for on-”

“Spit it out (Y/N)” Jeff hissed, his arms crossed over his chest as he backed away.

“I broke your clippers,” your words came out barely audible. You glanced up at Jeff to see his face burning with rage.

He ran his fingers through his hair, laughing from the irritation building up inside him, “This is a fucking joke. Where’s the camera? Huh?” It caught you by surprise when Jeff started throwing pillows and blankets around, eventually moving towards books and anything that wouldn’t cause too much damage to the apartment.

“It was an accident! Jeff stop!” You didn’t bother holding back the tears anymore as Jeff tore apart the living room. “Baby, please!”

“God fucking damn it, (Y/N)! You had one job. One! You couldn’t leave my shit alone?!”

“Jeff- I-”

Jeff’s pacing back and forth trying to calm himself down, but you don’t dare move from your spot.

“I don’t ask much from you. The only thing I asked was that you stay away from my space. And you couldn’t even do that,” Jeff rubbed his face, letting out a huff of air before leaving the apartment. Your tears continued as you started picking up the thrown objects around the room.

It’s been hours since Jeff left and part of you didn’t think he was coming home tonight. Hanging onto that small bit of hope, you crawled into bed to pass the time with your tv. A couple more hours passed before you heard the door to the apartment open and shut quietly, as if Jeff didn’t want you to know he was home.

Cautiously creeping into the bedroom, Jeff shuffled across the room peeling his clothes off with every step. Your attention remained on your tv as he settled under the covers with you. With his back resting against the headboard, you scooted farther away from him hoping he would get the hint not to bother you.

The TV became white noise to the both of you. A distraction to keep you from going at each other’s throats.

After what felt like 3 days of silence, Jeff finally opened his mouth, “Baby,” you pulled your hand away as he tried to reach for it, “I’m sorry, okay?” You stayed quiet, turning your body so your back was facing him. “Please talk to me baby.”

The bed squeaked as Jeff slid down, moving his body behind yours. His lips trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck, all the way down your arm.

You let out a deep sigh, giving into him, “You’re a fucking asshole. You know that?”

“I know. But I asked you not to touch my stuff. You have to see my side,” Jeff mumbled as he continued kissing every inch of your body that he possibly can.

“I get that, Jeff. I do. But you left without even listening to me. Not to mention you were gone for hours with no calls, no texts. Nothing.” 

Jeff stops with the kisses and rests his chin on your shoulder, “Ok. I get it. I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have left. Now can you forgive me, please?”

You turned around to face him, finally getting a good look at him. His eyes were puffy and dark, clearly tired. Your hand cupped his face, “I’ll think about it. Okay?”

But that wasn’t enough for him. In one swift movement, Jeff pushed your back down and hovered over your. Placing kisses all over your neck, down your chest and stomach, “Please, baby,” Jeff mumbles in between kisses, “I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.” His lips slowly trailing down your panties, “Anything,” he says, his breath hot against the cloth.

He knows what he’s doing to you, but you weren’t gonna give into him that easily. Not this time. You run your hand through his hair, “Anything, baby?” you question him as he continues to place kisses through your panties.

A smile plays on your lips as he nods, “Then let me go to bed,” you say as you push him off of you. Turning your back to him again, Jeff groans at your stubbornness but he doesn’t put up a fight.

Eventually Jeff fell asleep without another word from either of you. But you on the other hand couldn’t fall asleep after your boyfriend's little game. You turned your head to make sure Jeff was fully asleep before quietly getting out of bed and changing into something more...inappropriate.

Getting back into bed, you swing your legs over Jeff’s lap, careful not to wake him. Your lips pressed against his neck, working at his sweet spot and your hand played with the waistband of his boxers. Pushing your hips down, the pressure woke Jeff up instantly, “Fuck, (Y/N). What are you doing?” He practically moans as his head shoots up.

You pull away from his neck and sit up causing Jeff’s eyes to widen from your choice of minimal clothing, “Just having some fun,” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you slip your hand into his boxers.

You watch Jeff throw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut from the pleasure. “God, (Y/N). You’re fucking wild.” His hands grip your thighs as you run your thumb over his head.

Completely vulnerable under your touch, Jeff whimpers, “Don’t fuck with me, baby,” Your hand working painfully slow to give him what he needs only for you remove it completely.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do tonight,” your hands intertwined with Jeff’s, pinning them over his head. Grinding your hips down hard, you can feel Jeff’s bulge get harder from your actions.

Your lips returned to his neck, sucking on his sweet spot. Circling your hips was enough to make Jeff cum right there, but you weren’t gonna let him off that easy. You lifted your hips and shimmied further down his body. Leaving a trail of kisses down his stomach, you take the waistband on his boxers between your teeth and pull them down with the help of your hands.

Jeff wasted no time wrapping his hand in your head, involuntarily pushed your head down to his cock. “No, baby. We’re doing things my way this time,” Jeff hisses as you pull his hands from your hair, tying them to the headboard.

Settling yourself between his legs, you blew cold air against Jeff’s cock, causing him to buck his hips up. “Be careful baby, doing what you’re not told is gonna make this worse for you.” you cooed.

You dragged your tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the top, swirling it around his head.

“Fuckin’ hell, (Y/N),” Jeff moaned, wanting nothing more than to touch you. 

With one hand gripping his thigh, the other wrapped around his cock, covering what your mouth counted. Jeff’s moans filled the room. His hands pulled at the tie that bounded him to the bed.

Inching closer to his climax, Jeff accidentally bucked his hips up, making you gag against him. He cursed under his breath, knowing he shouldn’t have done that. “Fuck. (Y/N), babe. I- I’m sorry, that- I didn’t-” Jeff stuttered as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Whimpering from the loss of contact, you bring yourself back up to his face, “You shouldn’t have done that,” you say, your hand grabbed his jaw, “I told you not to do that,” Your thumb traced his bottom lip before you kissed him, quite forcefully. Just as Jeff tried to deepen the kiss, you pulled away and climbed off of him to settle on the other side of the bed. 

“(Y/N), come on. This isn’t fucking fun anymore,” Jeff hisses, his hands punching the wall behind him.

“I don’t know baby, I’m having a lot of fun,” you say as you lean back on your elbows, your legs spread far enough to give Jeff a perfect view. Your hand slipping into your panties, feeling how wet Jeff made you. A moan slipped through your mouth as you slipped a finger into yourself, pumping slowly at first and getting faster with each passing second.

You watched Jeff’s face burn, wishing it was him making you feel this good. Knowing it should be his fingers getting you off. “Maybe next time you’ll learn to be a good boy,” you breathe out before letting out a string of moans.

“What the fuck, (Y/N),” Jeff groans, “Baby, please,” Jeff begs, making you stop your movements.

You slipped your hand out and crawled over to your frustrated boyfriend, “Please what?” you whisper as you work to untie Jeff. “I want you to beg for it, daddy.”

Your word choice was enough for Jeff to rip his hands from the headboard, flipping the two of you over, “Please let me fuck you so good that the whole floor knows,” Jeff lips latched on your neck, biting at your sweet spot.

He doesn’t wait for an answer before moving your panties to the side and shoving himself into you, a high pitched moan erupted from your throat. His dick hitting the right spot with every thrust. Jeff flips you on to your stomach and pulls your hips up, pushing himself into your harder this time. Your hands grip the bed sheets as you get closer to your climax.

“Jeff, I- I- fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan, clenching your walls around his cock.

He pulls you up by your hair, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “Not until I say so,” His breath hot against your ear. You knew he was close when his thrusts started to slow down and become sloppy.

“Jeff, please,” you whimpered, not being able to hold on anymore.

“Cum for me, baby,” He whispers against your neck and she slams into a couple more times, slowly but hitting the right spots.

A string of moans spilled from both yours and Jeff’s mouths as you came down from your highs together.

“What the fuck was that, (Y/N)?” Jeff breaths out as he flops down on the bed next to you. A smile played on his lips. Your shoulders lifted and fell slightly, not really knowing what took over you. “Whatever I did to make you do that, maybe I need to do it more often”

[anywhozits]

All I Really Want: Chapter 2

Rating: T

Pairing: Kristanna (at some point lol)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Read on AO3

This wasn’t Anna’s first rodeo. During her freshman year at Arendelle Prep; hell, even during eighth grade and if she were drunk enough to admit it—that one time halfway through 7th grade when she really, really wanted to smooch Charlie Blower that 9th grader who she ran into in the hallway, she went to these kinds of parties.

The classic Arendelle Prep rager. Rich parents out on some kind of business trip. Way too much vodka. Cheap beer. Hot tubs. Silly games. Maybe a bonfire or two which like, totally wasn’t dangerous at all.

This night was the same as others before it. Bebe Shelley’s parents were out in Cabo for some reason with the “law school buddies” or “law firm buddies” or whatever her gross-ass dad called the ring of people he did lots of coke and called up prostitutes with. Well—not like that last part would happen with the wives present. Or would it.

Anna shuddered—literally—at the thought.

Gross. No. She didn’t want to think of any of that super messed up shit. She couldn’t believe Ashley even told her all of that. But maybe it was a coping mechanism or something.

Her driver, the most illustrious Kai, her aid in everything mischievous she had been up to ever since that 7th grade party where she had succeeded in smooching Charlie Blower, pulled the car up to Bebe’s house.

She took a deep breath. She was nervous for some reason. Probably because she knew Bebe’s sister Ashley would’ve invited the entire junior class and Anna had an inkling she super wanted to smooch tonight, too. And the juniors were the most totally hot grade in the upper school right now. Like, everybody knew it. Even the teachers. She’d heard Mrs. Adamson talking about it in a hushed voice with Mrs. Ingalls at convocation last week.

They were hot. Smoking hot, really. Like, smoking hot period.

And it helped that these were the boys who already were super into freshmen like her. Their first dance of the year, glowdown, was filled with her and her friends finding any way to grind on them. And they liked it too. Clearly. Anna felt that they liked it.

But somehow she made the stupid mistake of starting a grind off with Bebe that distracted from her goal. Sure, she’d won. Twenty-four guys compared to Bebe’s seventeen. But she hadn’t done anything else with them.

So she hadn’t secured herself that man she told herself she wanted since high school started. High school meant romance and drama and maybe a little bit of learning or something, too. But she wanted a high school boyfriend. She wanted someone to light up her life and her heart and she wanted everything that came with having that. She just wanted… someone. She wanted love. She wanted someone to love her.

The car came to a stop. Kai gave Anna a knowing ‘see you in the morning’ nod before ushering her out of the car. She opened the door slowly but slamming it suddenly, confused as to why she didn’t hear the familiar sound of the door banging closed behind her until she remembered that her best friend sat in the seat next to her.

“Wait! Kristoff—sorry. I forgot—” Anna shook her head. “Nevermind. Are you ready?” Anna was just so used to arriving to these kinds of house parties alone. Kristoff usually avoided them, unless Anna was the host, of course, but tonight Anna had begged and begged him until he finally gave in. All she had to do was jut out her lip and give him those classic puppy dog eyes. Rest assured he would do whatever she asked.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” His face was morphed into an extremely dissatisfied pout. Anna imagined he probably regretted agreeing to this whole situation, but she was thankful he came anyway. If this night didn’t go the way she planned, then she’d be happy to instead spend the night with him jumping on trampolines and running around to beat of the Smashing Pumpkins’ guitar riffs.

Kristoff’s drunken air guitar talents were legendary. Every time.

“Um… you sure?” Anna had tried to walk a few paces ahead of him but Kristoff remained firmly planted on the driveway. “You’re not moving at all.”

“Right,” Kristoff said. “Moving. Gotta… move.” Eventually he picked up his pace, shuffling his feet to catch up to Anna. She turned to face him, then, smiling wide at one of the people who consistently lit up her world.

His black Offspring skull t-shirt billowed a little bit in the slight wind of an Orange County January. Anna noticed a little hint of his sketchily acquired Nirvana tattoo sticking out from the sleeve of his left arm. But literally just a glimpse. The curve of the smiley face’s chin.

She thought it was damn awesome that at sixteen years old he already had two tattoos. Like he somehow had the balls to sneak out and find someone who would do that to minors. Someone he ended up befriending, even. He had a connection.

Naturally she’d debated getting one herself, but she still felt too young. Yeah, Kristoff and Anna were in the same grade, but he was basically two years older than her. Somehow, she was only reminded of this when she caught sight of his tattoos. What Anna deemed the ultimate symbol of maturity. Of… advanced age. Of those two years between them.

When Kristoff reached her, Anna grabbed hold of his hand, and they walked hand in hand to the intricately carved mahogany door of the Shelley household. Anna pressed the doorbell, hoping the chime would ring over the S Club 7 blasting through the surround sound.

Thankfully, Ashley pulled open the door. “Ohmygod, Anna!” Ashley bounced up to Anna and hugged her with such force Anna thought she might burst. She could feel the stark, well—hard proof of Ashley’s boob job. A sixteenth birthday present that had set off an endless stream of gossip. “And you brought your friend… Christopher, was it?”

“Kristoff.”

“Right. Well—welcome, Kristoff! Glad you could make it.”

Anna shrugged and clapped her hands together. She felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her. A party! A party was just what she needed to forget about her shit week. Elsa hadn’t called back after Anna had left her at least twelve or thirteen messages and her parents had done nothing but ignore her. But what else was new on that front…her parents were a lost cause. But Elsa. Elsa was busy, though. At her boarding school. Studying hard, probably. And there was also the three-hour time difference. Anna knew that. There were loads of reasons why Elsa didn’t call back. She couldn’t be disappointed.

She wouldn’t be.

So, Anna smiled through it. She tried her very best to swallow the tremble in her voice. “I need something to drink.” Not one crack. Not one break. She always did such a great job hiding.

“You know where to find those,” Ashley added with a wink. She ushered Kristoff and Anna to the kitchen and made a beeline for what appeared to be the dance floor.

Anna skipped—literally skipped—to the kitchen, Kristoff stumbling behind her and nodding nervously when she handed him a shot of vodka. He took one whiff and scrunched up his face. He wasn’t usually a shot guy but Anna brought it out in him.

She knew he had some stuff he wanted to forget, too.

“Threetwoone!” Her countdown was decidedly not a countdown. Both Anna and Kristoff grimaced intensely when the liquid stung their throats and then chased the vodka heavily with some Sunny D.

“Another one?” Kristoff asked, feeling nothing. What a heavyweight. Anna remained incredibly jealous. A couple months ago, Olaf told Anna that she could never go shot to shot with Kristoff and her own stupid dumb naïve stubbornness made her do it. That night had ended so poorly. Probably. Well—no way it could have ended any other way. Anna didn’t remember anything past shot number nine. Her throat burned for days from all the barfing she did.

But tonight, she figured she’d keep to a limit. A few drinks behind Kristoff at all times. Except for now… “Let’s do it!”

So they did. Switching to a chaser of Hawaiian punch this time. Kristoff had definitely poured at least a shot and a half into their red solo cups, but Anna was grateful for it, honestly. Now she felt the perfect amount of buzz for her Junior Boy Hunt. That sounded like an okay name for this quest. Junior Boy Hunt. Had some mediocre ring to it.

She’d keep it for now.

Kristoff took one more shot and then grabbed himself a beer but not before pouring Anna a vodka cranberry.

“Thanks, Kris,” Anna said. “I’m going to take a lap, I think.”

“Okay. I’ll be here, probably. Or… looking for Olaf. I think he said he might come.”

Anna nodded and smiled at him, thinking to herself that this was where and how Junior Boy Hunt began. She held the red solo cup so tightly her knuckles started to turn white. She massaged her lip between her teeth in sheer resolve. Her eyes roamed over the crowd of people on the dance floor.

They all seemed mostly paired off.

Then she looked at the living room. Also pairs.

Jesus. Was this some kind of a hook up party and she didn’t get the memo to arrive early enough to secure her place?

Whatever.

She pivoted in her Vans to run outside, but right as she did, she bumped straight into someone and the entirety of her vodka cranberry spilled all over the front of her shirt. “Ooof!” She yelled, laughing just as she always did when she did something clumsy. Because. Classic Anna, let’s be real.

“Whoa!” The mysterious human wall grabbed her shoulders to stabilize himself. But then he ran his hands along her arms and held onto her hands right as he stared into her eyes and then Anna realized oh shit this human wall was a guy who was actually really, really hot and maybe this was, like, fate or something because hot DAMN. He wore a pink Lacoste collared shirt which seemed to make his bright red hair sparkle. His most striking feature—by far—was his eyes, filled with a beautiful, engulfing green that swirled in a shocking mixture of mischievousness and confidence. She’d never in her entire life seen eyes that color. Like… an emerald. It captivated her. She didn’t want to move. “I’m sorry about that… oh, fuck. Your drink… on your…” His eyes drifted down to her white tank top. He was definitely staring at her cleavage. Anna puffed out her chest a little bit in response.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I get distracted by—um, I run into people a lot. I mean, I’m really clumsy. I guess. It’s not because you’re hot or anything. Well, you are hot, but I don’t… that’s not why I ran into you, it’s more just because I wasn’t looking—I didn’t notice you were hot until, well, right now, and—”

“I’m Hans,” he said and Anna exhaled. So she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself with her rambling. Those little blessings. “Westergaard.”

“Anna Larsen.” There was a slight twinkle in his eyes when she said this.

“You go to Arendelle Prep?”

“Yeah. I’m in Bebe’s grade.”

He chuckled. “Fresh meat.”

“Yup! And you’re a…?”

“Junior. Ashley’s my good um… friend.” Except the way he said that made Anna think maybe they were something more than friends and it made her nervous. “I’m sure she could give you a new shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t really care about the stain.”

“It’s a little see-through.”

Anna blushed. Hard. She definitely had cheeks the shade of ketchup and it only made it worse that he still held onto her hands. Thank the Lord she had bought a new metallic green bathing suit last week.  

“You know, I think I recognize you from somewhere,” Hans said. “Are you on the volleyball team?”

She blushed again. “Yeah. I am. Volleyball, basketball, and track, actually.” Technically track season hadn’t started yet, but she found it important to mention anyway.

“My friends and I… we like watching the volleyball games.”

Anna laughed nervously. She could feel it… now was the time to be bold. Now was the time to really put the Junior Boy Hunt plan into action. “So, um… wanna get me a new drink? And you can… um—meet me outside?” Anna tried her best to be assertive. She wanted him to know she was interested and more than anything else she needed him to know that she was mature. She was a freshman, sure—fresh meat or whatever he had said earlier, but this wasn’t her first party, and this wasn’t her first time making out with somebody the first night she met them.

“Vodka cranberry?”

“Make it a vodka soda this time. Don’t wanna ruin any more clothes.”

He laughed at her and she went giddy. Her heart fluttered a mile a minute. Okay. Not too shabby. Junior Boy Hunt was already a resounding success. She spun around to watch him walk to the kitchen and stared longingly at the way he poured her drink. Kristoff had disappeared somewhere, probably looking for Olaf. She’d meet up with him later. No worries.

So, then Anna skipped excitedly outside, finding a perfect spot next to the fire where she could see herself spending the rest of the night with Hans. What a thrill. She couldn’t wait.

She discarded her tank top, pleased enough to have a solid vodka-cranberry soiled excuse to show off her new bikini, fixed her braids, and pulled down her jean cutoff shorts. Biting her lip while she tried to determine how much of her abs would peek through while sitting on this chair.

Laying herself out in as Barbie as a pose as she could, Anna found her footing. Her body glistened in the light of the crackling fire, her freckles on display. Her shorts low enough on her hips to showcase her small waist and her voluptuous booty. Well. Not that he would really be able see her booty since she had to use it to, like, sit on. But still. She looked enrapturing like this and she knew it.

She counted down the seconds until she figured he would come back with their drinks and see her like this. Thrilled.

But then.

“Oh, hey, Anna,” Kristoff said, sliding into the spot next to her on the patio couch.

Anna shot to attention, emerged from her Barbie pose, and scooted a little bit away from him. “Oh. Kristoff. Hi.” Her eyes darted about, trying to see if she saw Hans anywhere. She didn’t want him to be turned off by the fact she now spoke to a guy like twice his size. Hans didn’t know that Kristoff was just a friend. And what if, seeing her here… he thought that it meant she found somebody new. That she didn’t want him. Because that wasn’t the case. Like, literally at all. Obviously. Anna had… maybe a couple times considered smooching Kristoff. Maybe a couple. Well, technically handful was the better word to describe how many times she’d had that thought. But that didn’t mean she liked him liked him. She just liked him as a friend. And sometimes it was hard to separate friend feelings from romantic feelings and… besides.

He definitely thought of her has a friend. A little sister he had said once. And it still made her stomach sink even thinking of the night he said those two words.

“You couldn’t find Olaf?”

“I’m not so sure he’s here. I looked all over.”

“Oh, well…” Anna started panicking a bit. She knew Hans had to be on his way, and if her big brother or best friend whatever the heck he was to her cock blocked her like this she would be pissed. Her eyes beat back and forth and back and forth. She didn’t see the flash of Hans’s red hair anywhere. For now, she was safe. But only for now. “Listen—”

Kristoff smiled softly. “Have I ever told you how cute you look in braids?”

The comment made Anna blush and momentarily forgot her mission. “No.”

“Well, you do. You—”

But then she saw Hans walking through the sliding glass door. And she got desperate. “Kristoff, um… I think it’s best—I need to—”

“Anna!” Hans somehow squeezed his way between the two of them on the couch. Kristoff recoiled and exhaled in a pout. “Got you these.” He handed her not one but two vodka sodas. For himself, he had chosen some generic looking beer bottle. “Thought you looked thirsty.”

Anna was happy to double fist. She felt like she needed some added liquid confidence for this next part of her quest.

“Who’s this guy?” Hans said this in a way that made it seem like Kristoff didn’t sit so close to him that their thighs rubbed together.

“That’s Kristoff. He’s my friend. Um…He was just leaving.” She’d explain everything to him later. But for now she felt bad.

Kristoff slouched, and his eyes shot to the floor. He looked so dejected that guilt churned within Anna’s stomach. But slowly he got up, nodding, not quite looking into Anna’s eyes when he said, “Yup. I need to… um. Bye.”

Anna exhaled slowly. Everything would be fine once she explained it to him. He probably already knew what the deal was.

So, she tried to put that thread of guilt out of her mind.

“Sorry about that. He’s great, I promise. He’s just… he gets overwhelmed at parties like this.” Anna moved in closer to Hans, trying to recreate her earlier pose. She took a sip of one of the drinks, placing the other one carefully on the floor. It was strong. Hans had blessed her with a heavy pour. She took a couple more gulps of the vodka and then cleared her throat. “So… where do you live?” Anna mentally kicked herself. What kind of a way to start the conversation was this?

“Newport.”

“Oh—um. Beach or Coast? I live in Newport Coast.”

“Beach. Port streets.”

“Awesome,” Anna said, exhaling. Trying to decide what her next move was. She took a few sips of the vodka soda, thankfully feeling a bit more buzzed. He had to have put at least two shots in it. “I—um—my family has a beach house on the Peninsula. Not too far from the Fun Zone, um. If you’ve ever been.”

“The Fun Zone?” His whole entire face lit up and he instantly became even dreamier. “Sure I’ve been. First ferris wheel I ever went on.”

Hans’s hand found Anna’s upper thigh and she instantly felt both a pressure down below and a heart heaving thrill of excitement the second he did. His eyes fell to her bikini again.

And then. Right then.

Anna knew she had him in the palm of her hand. She didn’t feel nervous anymore.

“The ferris wheel is great,” she laughed, effortlessly. “We used to go there all the time when I was little. My dad spun me too hard on the Drummer Boy and I threw up next to the trash can. Like, I was so close to making it an elegant barf that nobody had to clean up or anything but nope. I failed. Literally… adjacent to the trash can.”

Hans laughed now. Heartily.

Yes. Nice work, Anna. You’re funny. You’ve got this. Two points to Anna in the Junior Boy Hunt. And then, while still laughing, he moved his hand a little further up on her thigh. Two more points. “My sister made it to the bathroom. Barfed in the toilet. And I think that moment really set us on our life trajectories. Class Act Elsa and Hot Mess Anna.”

He laughed again. She had to give herself at least five points for that one.

“Elsa’s your sister?”

“Mmhmm. She’s like a super genius. Goes to this uppity boarding school in New England and will probably end up at Harvard or something after she graduates in May,” Anna said cheerily, chugging her drink. Willing herself to forget those unanswered phone calls. “And… meanwhile here I am.” She sipped—more like slurped—her drink at least thrice. “Hot.” Sip. “Mess.” Sip. She gulped. Time for a redirection. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Twelve.”

Now Anna laughed. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. I’m the youngest of thirteen. All brothers.”

“I’m jealous,” Anna said. Meaning it wholeheartedly. She’d love to have a house that full. But then she noticed Hans looking at her sideways and she recoiled. “Is that weird?” Hans didn’t answer her, he just ran his hand along her cheek. So slowly, so delicately that Anna felt herself shiver. “Must’ve been chaotic, then. Going to The Fun Zone as a pack of thirteen kids.”

“Yeah, my brothers were assholes about it. Always trying to force me on Scary Dark Ride.”

“What? You’re telling me you were scared?” Anna cackled. Literally cackled. “That ride’s so lame! Like, totally not scary. At all.”

Hans’s voice got lower, edging on husky when he said, “Maybe I’ll let you force me on it sometime.”

Anna’s heart almost stopped right there. He wanted to go out with her, like, on a date? Probably? That was a date, right? He meant this as a date? The two of them going to The Fun Zone. Maybe he meant in a group. Like a group of them would go and a group of them ride the ride and then get some ice cream and hang out at her beach house or something. But then Anna took a few more horrid burning sips of her drink and decided… fuck it. “You mean like a date?” She scooted even closer to him somehow and pushed her upper arms against her top. She didn’t have the biggest boobs. Well, definitely not compared to Ashley and her fake-ass ones, but she still knew how to show them off. And Hans seemed interested, so…

She tucked a loose strand of hair around her ear and chugged the last bit of one vodka soda as she waited for his answer.

But it never came.

Instead, she felt the warmth of his lips covering her own. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her on top of him, so she straddled him with ease.

“You’re beautiful,” he said between kisses.

Her heart fluttered at those words. Damn did it feel good to be complimented like that. To feel, even if only for a few minutes, that she was the center of somebody else’s world.

Anna could say nothing but, “You’re really hot. Like, really hot. Hot damn hot.” She laughed. Rambling again. “Okay I’m gonna stop talking now.”

She grabbed onto the back of his head and pulled him in closer, so they kissed deeper, tongues fighting for dominance.

He was by far the best kisser of the maybe seven-or-so people Anna had kissed in her life. There was something startling about it, honestly. Nobody else could measure up.

Hans knew what he was doing. He really, really knew what he was doing. And as his hand squeezed her ass, Anna let out a delighted moan. Shit. Yeah. This guy knew.

Eventually they transitioned to the porch swing, and then to the hammock, and then to a patch of grass by the hammock, and then the trampoline, and finally the hot tub. Both vodka sodas were finished now, the empty cups sitting by the fire, next to the pile of their discarded clothes. Anna still straddled him, kissing him deeply, thoroughly enjoying the new sensation the hot water provided.

It seemed the rest of the party-goers had cleared out of the backyard. Only the sounds of TLC kept them company. And maybe it was all the alcohol or maybe it was the sense of utter euphoria she felt after these hours with Hans, but damn kissing Hans almost felt like chasing waterfalls…. And that definitely meant that she had at least one million points in the Junior Boy Hunt.

But she wanted to take it a little bit further. To secure her spot. Maybe she needed a billion points to win her own game. “Um… are you sleeping here tonight?”

“That was the plan,” he said, crooning. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Duh. Always.”

“Your parents don’t want you back home?”

Anna laughed in spite of herself and rolled her eyes. “My parents are happy I’m not there to bother them.”

Hans grabbed hold of one of her braids and twirled it in his fingers. “Can I say something crazy?”

Anna nodded.

“I think I love you.”

Her jaw dropped. In a totally unladylike way as her mom would say if she even cared enough to criticize her daughter. Anna did a double take. “Wait, what?”

“I think I love you, Anna,” he repeated. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Those absolutely brilliant green eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and what she felt in that moment—that pure, raw, unadulterated pull toward him and only him… it must have been love.

“Oh—wow. I… um—” She blushed, slowly growing more confident. Love. Yes. This was love. “I think I love you, too.”

Their lips met again, more passionately, more purposeful. She felt hot all over and not just from the… you know—hot water of the hot tub and all that.

She had certainly received a billion points. No doubt about it.

And they stayed outside for the rest of the night. The two of them. They moved from the hot tub and back to the grass, back to the couch, back to the trampoline. They watched the stars, they split a bottle of wine, they made s’mores.

They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

And Anna knew this was love. This was exactly what love felt like.

To be someone’s world and someone’s rock and someone’s other half.

She loved love. She loved Hans.

This was the best night of her life.

[bitchardhendricks]

Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma)

Most of y’all probably don’t know that I actually grew up in Tulsa, so the fact that Richard is from there and is my same age has had me wanting to write a “Jarrich goes to Tulsa” fic for ages. For now it exists in bits and pieces I’m still trying to quilt together - a high school reunion, Richard’s anxiety, his family issues, inviting Jared but not knowing why, showing Jared Tulsa and all the secret places that made him who he became - but we’re living in a goddamn twilight zone episode so I thought I’d maybe share some bits with anyone who’s interested because why the hell not. I’m also hoping to hear if this is something people are into at all - I think it would be helpful motivation for me to keep chipping away at this thing that I’ve been thinking off and on about for almost a year.

If ever I have put my heart and soul into anything, this fic is it. For all its flaws, this is my hometown, the place that shaped me and Richard both. Let me know what you think. ___

Livin' on Tulsa time

Gonna set my watch back to it

'Cause you know I've been through it

Livin' on Tulsa time

--Don Williams, “Tulsa Time”

***

The email sits in his inbox for a week. Richard would have forgotten about it if he wasn't doing his weekly inbox filing ("Although garbage heaps can be a cozy place to sleep, no one wants one in their inbox!" he can hear Jared saying). He may never even have read it. When he clicks on the subject line, "Union High School Class of 2005 invites you..." He almost assumes it's some kind of alumni fundraiser, asking for money he definitely doesn't have. 

The reality is much worse. "Oh god," he moans and scrolls through the email in disbelief. 

"Richard? Are you ill?" Jared has stopped typing and is eyeing him with concern. 

"No, just. I got invited to my high school reunion."

Dinesh lets out a crow-like laugh and Gilfoyle's mouth twitches slightly into a rare half-smile while Jared claps his hands together in apparent glee. “Oh Richard - what a wonderful opportunity!” At Richard’s skeptical look, he continues. “Think of it as a chance to reflect upon the roots from which your mighty oak has grown, and bestow acorns of wisdom upon those who saw the potential of the sapling you once were!"

Richard blinks and shakes his head, "I wasn't...there was no oak, Jared. I'm probably not even going to go." He had JUST been back in Tulsa over Thanks...Christm...ok, it had been awhile. But the idea of going back to high school, seeing all those people. A sudden sweat breaks out on the back of his neck and he archives the email. 

Still a little queasy from the idea of a reunion, god, with streamers and shitty punch and small talk - the fucking small talk - Richard is grateful for the distraction of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he thumbs it open to answer without looking. 

“Hello?”

"Oh, hi boo!” a cheery, surprised voice answers. It’s his mom; Jesus, is there some ghost of Christmas past thing going on today? Fuck. “I didn’t think I’d catch you, I know you’re so busy.” She says it like ketch, her soft almost-twang sending a pang through him. He knows he should miss her more than he does.

“Um yeah, hi Mom, now’s not really a good--”

“Oh I won’t keep you, I just wondered if you were comin’ home for the big reunion and all?”

Richard’s eyes grow wide and he stumbles up from his chair to stalk through the kitchen and out the back door. He usually ends up talking to his mom by the pool, both for a little privacy and also because the calm blue water tends to blunt some of the keyed up aggression that always comes out when talking to his parents. “How did you even - was there like an announcement on the news or something?”

Her laugh tinkles through the phone speaker and Richard’s teeth begin to grind. “No, silly, I talked to Nelson’s mama and she told me. Course, he can't come because that's the weekend of Ashley's wedding so they'll all be in Arizona, but she did ask about you and wondered if you might be coming back...?" Her hopeful tone makes guilt cramp in Richard's stomach, followed by a red pulse of anger at that guilt.

"I wasn't really - it's just not a good time, mom. You know I can't just drop everything, Pied Piper is--" he gulps, not wanting to mention the Hooli lawsuit, "I just can't really get away, you know? Big uh, big things on the horizon."

"I know, I know, sweetie, it's just..." She trails off and Richard can picture her, standing in their kitchen, worrying at the hem of her shirt. Staring out the little window above the sink at the cul-de-sac across from their house, focusing on the rusted out trike and faded primary-color plastic of the toys perpetually scattered on the Hernandez's lawn. "Caitlyn will be home that weekend too for a baby shower - her friend Elizabeth, you remember her." Richard doesn't. "And Dad and I thought you'd maybe...well, it sure would be nice to see both of you at the same time. It's been so long, Richard, and...well, it was just a thought." 

Richard pinches the bridge of his nose and opens his mouth to say no again, but the spectre of the Hooli lawsuit squirms inside him, making him run cold as it always does. It could be nice to escape, just for a weekend.

"I'll think about it. Now I really, I have to go, mom. Sorry."

"Oh it's ok! Alright then, well I'll let you go--"

"Ok, alright--"

"Tell everybody there we said hi--"

"Um ok, yeah I-I will, I--"

"And give yourself a big hug from me and Dad, ok? Love you, sweetie."

"Uh-huh, love you too, ok bye."

When he turns away from the pool, Jared's ghostly reflection is staring at him from the kitchen window. He gives Richard a smile, the kind that makes him look more sad than happy, and a little wave of one of his absurdly large hands. Richard gives a half-hearted wave in return and tries to push the sound of his mom's hopeful voice back into the dusty recesses of his mind where he keeps everything else from Oklahoma.

[temilyrights]

Escape

Requested by @fangirlspammer​​: Could you do #5 for the Sloane x Reader fic? 

5. “Please come get me…” 

Warnings: alcohol, mild swearing.

You’d been working the case for a week. Neighbours had phoned the police when they noticed a strong smell coming from Petty Officer Ashley Hudson’s apartment. She’d been murdered, cause of death: an excessive amount of stab wounds. Jimmy declared she’d been dead approximately 48 hours before being discovered, hence the smell.  

You’d gone to speak to her CO with McGee. CO Wallace was charming and overly determined to help you find the man who’d killed PO Hudson, he was also teeming with fragile masculinity and arrogance. You noticed the way his lip curled in frustration when Hudson was mentioned and despite how ‘helpful’ he was trying to be he made sure to mention that Hudson was always causing problems and being insubordinate despite there not being a single report supporting this. You didn’t like how he seemed incapable of addressing you, subtly finding ways to direct all his answers to McGee instead.

 When you got back to NCIS, Bishop told you about how PO Hudson had told her sister about a man that was bothering her but never mentioned his name. Just that he was relentless in his advances. You’d spoken to PO Hudson’s friend/fellow PO who had some less than stellar things to say about CO Wallace and his behaviour towards Hudson. You were sure that it was him that had killed her.

 The only evidence was the end of a knife in the victim’s body and a few clothing fibres. You’d hope the clothing fibres would link to something obvious like a military uniform however it was just a common black t-shirt which wasn’t enough to get a warrant. The knife was part of a set from PO Hudson’s kitchen, making your crime of passion theory more likely.

 With PO Hudson’s friend’s testimony, you were sure you could cause enough reasonable doubt but before you had the chance to go speak to her again, she’d rather suddenly been ordered to sea and out of reach.

 You ended up inviting Wallace under the pretence of needing more information for the case, however, when he arrived, he came with an expensive-looking lawyer which didn’t allow you the opportunity to question him as you wanted too. The lawyer had eventually threatened a harassment suit and Vance said you didn’t have cause to hold him, so you’d been forced to let him go.

 You stood in the bullpen and watch as Wallace made his way to the elevator and winked at you on the way. He was due to return to duty in the next couple of days which meant he’d be on a ship out of reach for months. Your case was screwed, and a murderer was going to walk free. 

 You’d argued with Gibbs about finding a way to keep him here but without evidence, there was nothing he could do. McGee, Bishop and Torres had watched you warily from their desks as you’d thrown stuff in your bag, slamming desk draws and stormed out of the building.  

 It was late, nearly 8 pm and you headed straight to a bar. It was dark and pretty empty and the perfect place to drown your sorrows. Jack had phoned you, which you ignored, and then she’d texted you asking if you were ok, resulting in you turning your phone off completely and ordering another drink. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that she cared, because you were, it’s just she’d want to talk about how you’re feeling and she’d be all understanding and kind and she’d smile at you which always made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

 You just wanted to drink, to forget and definitely not think about the disappointed but concerned look Jack would be giving you if she knew what you were currently doing.

 Now it was about an hour later, you were about 3 drinks in and starting to feel the effects of the alcohol as is travelled through your system. The thought of dancing to the bad music filling the bar was beginning to sound more appealing. 

 “Hey beautiful” The voice interrupts your thoughts and you turn to face a man who’s already standing too close, a leer on his face and the smell of stale beer wafting from his body. You resist the urge to grimace in disgust. “What do ya drink?” 

 “Sorry, I’m not interested.” 

 “Awh come on darlin’. What can I get ya?” 

 You lift the side of the jacket to reveal the NCIS badge clipped to your trousers “Not interested.” You repeat and the man looks down at the badge grinding his teeth in mild anger. You lift your eyebrows daring him to try something, but he seems to think better of it and backs away.

 You sigh in relief, going back to your drink. You think maybe you should call it a night and head home but the thought of going home to your empty apartment fills you with dread. You instead order another drink, including a shot this time as well. You down the shot immediately, choking on the strong liquor you wash the taste away with a sip of your drink.   

 You were beginning to feel floaty and were about to get up and dance when Jack enters the bar. She sighs in relief when she sees you. She’s still dressed in the same clothes from the day at work, with an added winter coat to help with the frosty air. Her hair’s a little dishevelled from the long day and you can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

 She takes her phone from her coat pocket, removing her gloves in the process, and begins tapping on it before holding it up to her ear “Yes, I’ve found her. Thank you, Tim.” You’re too far away to hear the response “No, go home. I’ve got her. Yes, I’ll see you at work on Monday, have a good weekend.” She ends the call, shoving her phone back into her pocket before she walks over to you, sliding onto the barstool next to you, she bumps your shoulder.

 “Special Agent Sloane” you smirk, holding your glass up in cheers before taking another sip.

 “You don’t make it easy to track you down,” She says it jokily, but her concern is plastered all over her face.  

 “And yet you’re here less than 2 hours after I left NCIS.”

 She ignores your snide comment. “How are you?” 

 You roll your eyes “I’m fine. I’m drinking.” Jack looks unimpressed as you continue to drink. Well aware of your bullshit she just watches you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m angry” you finally whispered, looking away from Jack’s knowing eyes. 

 She places a comforting hand on your arm and your eyes instantly tear up. You take a deep breath, pulling all your emotions back. You shrug Jack’s hand off your arm and distract yourself with your drink.

 “Don’t do that” Jack chastised, and you sigh loudly. “Y/N-”

 “Can we not.” You snap, your buzz dampened. “I was here alone because I don’t want to talk about this.” 

 “Tough shit” Your head snaps over to Jack in surprise “This case has affected you a lot and you need to talk about that, otherwise you’re just going to end up doing something stupid.” 

 You don’t respond, choosing instead to finish your drink and order another one. Jack sighs in frustration. 

 “How much have you had to drink?” 

 “Not enough apparently.” you quip.

 “Alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems.” 

 You laugh bitterly “Maybe not but it’s a damn good distraction.” 

 “Y/N-”

 “Jack just stop!” You rub your forehead in frustration trying to soothe the headache you feel coming along. The alcohol was only heightening your emotions instead of suppressing them as you’d hoped. Jack is still watching you with concern and it makes you angrier because you don’t want to do this. You just need her to stop, you don't want to think. “I can’t...” you take a deep breath as your voice cracks. You shake your head in frustration and Jack goes to touch you and you basically fall out of your seat in the hurry to escape her grasp. “Don’t...I-” 

 Jack’s hands shoot up in surrender, but you see the hurt flash across her face. You don’t want to upset her; you feel the ache in your chest grow. Your heads swarming from the alcohol, you’re dizzy and hot and need to get out of here. “I need to go” You choke. Turning around you run from the bar. Ignoring Jack’s calls of protest and confusion. 

 You stumble down the street, arms wrapped around yourself to help protect you from the cold air. You’d forgotten to pick up your coat in the rush to get out of the bar and now you were walking around with your flimsy blazer which wasn’t helping at all. The cold air was making the effects of the alcohol more prominent. Your head was fuzzy, and your eyes begin to well up both from the freezing temperature and your swarm of building emotions. 

 It was stupid to run away; you knew she’d be coming to look for you. 

 You’d been so convinced you could get this guy, that his arrogance would allow you to entrap him in some way, but he was too protected, too many friends in high places. No one was as outraged as you and it didn’t make sense, the scumbag had killed PO Hudson because she kept rejecting his advances. You wanted everyone to be furious. 

 In your drunken state, and fast walking you don’t notice the icy pavement ahead of you. You trip, falling onto the floor and twisting your ankle awkwardly. You groan in pain. Your hands are scratched up and you can’t manoeuvre yourself up from the floor, sighing in frustration you dig your phone from your pocket. 

 You turn it on as your hands tremble and you’re surprised to see a flourish of texts and calls appear from Jack from earlier this evening. 

 Oh. 

 You’d know she’d been concerned, but you hadn’t realised just how much. You hang your head in shame, groaning. You’d been such an ass; all she was doing was being helpful and you’d just shouted at her and ran away.

 You hit her number and listen impatiently as it rings.

 “Look Y/N I can just go home-”

 “I’m sorry” you interrupt hating Jack’s upset (and slightly pissed off) voice. You move slightly and then inhale sharply as your ankle twinges. 

 “Are you ok?” the concern is back instantly.

 “Please come get me...” You wince, another sharp pain shooting through your ankle. You hated how pathetic you sounded.  

 “Where are you?”

 “I only got a few streets away. I can’t see a street sign and I can't move. I slipped; I think I’ve sprained my ankle” you groan. Jack assures you she’ll be there soon and hangs up. You wait, now freezing cold, your ass soaking wet from the icy floor.

 She arrives a couple of minutes later, stopping her car in front of you, she rushes over. Grabbing you by the arms Jack helps pull you from the ground and you bite your lip to try and hide just how much pain you were in.

 “Are you ok?” Jack’s face is full of worry and concern, her hands ghost over you as if to check you were all still there and you try to ignore the feelings it erupts in you. “You’re freezing.”

 “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I'm drunk and sad and angry and you were being too nice, and I needed to getaway. You were going to get me to talk because I can literally never say no to you-” You miss the slight blush that hits Jack’s cheeks “but I’m angry Jack. I’m angry and I don’t understand why no one else is.” You’re finding it hard to breathe as you let all your emotions from the last week hit.

 Jack moves her hands back to your face, making you focus on her. “Hey. It’s ok. Just breathe” You copied her as she took deep breaths. “Let’s get you home ok?” she said after you’d calmed down slightly. You nodded weakly and she helped you to the car. 

 “I’m really sorry for tonight” The car is silent, Jack focused on the road and you on looking anywhere but at Jack.

 “I’m sorry for pushing you to open up” Jack hesitates “But you do know I’m always here to talk to, right?  Or not talk to, whatever you need.” 

 Jack’s still focused on the road, but you look over to her smiling slightly as you admire her “my super special agent” The words escape your mouth without your permission, you were definitely too drunk to be this close to her. Jack’s head swings round to look at you causing your stomach to explode with butterflies. She looks surprised, her face red. Seeing you watching her she looks back to the road, clearing her throat. 

 The rest of the journey is silent and you’re grateful when she pulls up outside your apartment. Jack grabs your bag and coat from the back seat and moves around the car to help you get out, an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you balanced, as she helps you up the stairs to your apartment. Making sure you’re steady, she lets go of you as she digs through your bag for your keys.

 Once the door is open you both enter, Jack goes off to find something for your ankle, and you wobble to your bedroom. You quickly get out of your wet and cold clothes. Selecting a comfy pair of pyjama trousers and a t-shirt you slip them on before hopping over to your bed. You lie down, sinking into your covers shivering slightly as you try to warm up. 

 Jack enters carrying a glass of water and a frozen pack of peas wrapped in a dishcloth and a small first aid box. You’ve already placed a pillow underneath your ankle and Jack gently places the peas over the top. She then sets your glass on the bedside table, before sitting next to you on the bed with the first aid box. 

 “Let me clean your hands and then you need to drink the water” You nod as Jack cradles one of your hands in hers. They are scraped and red but luckily no proper cuts which meant their likely was little to no gravel in there. She takes an antiseptic wipe. “This is going to sting” You nod, and Jack begins to wipe the area.

 “Son of a-” you gasp flinching lightly, cutting yourself off before you swear and Jack laughs lightly, rolling her eyes. 

 “Hold still, I’m nearly done” Jack chastised, taking your other hand and continuing to clean. You gasp again and Jack looks over to you, your eyes meeting and you both still. She’s now tied her hair up into a messy ponytail with strands of hair framing her face. You want to reach out and touch them, touch her. Jack was watching you closely and you wondered if she felt any of the things you did. You should look away, but you can’t seem to manage, held captive by Jack's eyes. You just needed to reach out and-

 You kiss her. It’s soft and slow and for a few beautiful seconds, Jack is kissing you back.

 Then she sharply pulls away.

 She stares at you in shock, her fingers ghosting her lips and you watch her as about 5 different emotions flash across her face in a couple of seconds.

 Jack’s eyes start to ghost before she releases a choked “you’re drunk.”

 “I’m sobering up.” you rebut instantly.

 “Y/N-” Jack’s shaking her head now.

 “I want this.” You’re surprised by how firm and confident your voice is, but it’s true. You want this so badly, wanted it for so long.

 “I can’t do this-”

 “Jack-”

 “No. This shouldn’t have happened, you’re drunk, and you’ve had a bad week and-”

 “I want this.” you repeat, reaching out to touch Jack’s cheek but she pulls away before you can, and tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.

 “Please stop…” She begs and your chest aches.

 “I promise you I’d want this completely sober; I’ve just been too shit scared to do anything.” You must be slightly convincing as Jack finally meets your eyes again. You gently wipe away the tears from her face and she releases a shaky breath.

  “I can’t do this. Not while you’ve got alcohol in your system. You mean a lot to me Y/N and I don’t want you to say these things just to turn around and regret them in the morning-”

 “I’m not-”

 “Just listen please” Jack begs “I’m going to go now and if you mean it, and I mean really mean it Y/N, then phone me tomorrow. If you don’t” Jack’s voice wobbles “than we can forget about it and move on.”

 “Ok” you nod and Jack leans over to you leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek, before ducking her head and getting off your bed. “I really do mean it, Jack.” You say as she turns to look at you. She gives you a small smile, but you can see the doubt in her eyes before she turns back around and leaves.

 Once you hear your front door shut, you lean back into your bed. A bright smile crosses your face before you drift off to sleep.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nate Vandrum Before Danny: Request Answered

(for @blackstar-1391 who requested Nate and the twins pre-Danny... Ashley decided to show up late, sorry about that, but I’ve got an Ashley-focused drabble knocking around in my head for the future! Tagging @bleeding-demon-teeth who mentioned liking being tagged for Bram!)

TW: Non con touching, knives, mentions of sex (implied/referenced), some reaaaaaal lowkey emotional manipulation and like the bittiest bit of torture

“Don’t be mad, baby,” Bram croons, sliding the edge of the knife down the side of Nate’s neck, not enough to cut, just enough to be a shiver of cold metal he can’t quite deny. “Look, we talked about this, didn’t we?”

“Did we?” Nate asks, keeping his eyes closed and turning his head to the side. His voice comes out calm, and steady, and he’s proud of himself for that.

“We did. I’ve been really opening up to you, Nate, and I just feel like you’re not listening to me.”

Looking away like this bares his neck to Bram, which has its own risks, but it keeps the edge of the blade off his cheek, and in his best attempts at calculation, that seems the safer bet. “I’m sorry, it’s hard to hear you when you’re cutting my fucking shirt off.”

His voice doesn’t shake, but his heart is knocking against his chest hard enough that he’s a little afraid it’s going to burst right out of him like a horror movie nightmare moment.

“Look, I get that you’re pretty upset right now,” Bram says reasonably enough, nudging the slivers of cloth puddled at his feet to the side. “Although I’d like to point out that you currently have enough bandages on you that you might as well be wearing a second shirt, anyway.”

Nate shifts and hears the slight crackle of them, feels the pull of the adhesive, the soft brush of the gauze. “Because you cut me.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t give you any excuse to be rude, does it?”

Nate nearly opens his eyes at that, nearly turns to look back at him, to argue, but he catches himself just in time. 

If Abraham notices, his voice doesn’t give it away. “I’ve been really explaining my motivations to you, my feelings, and I expect you to reciprocate. It’s perfectly normal for couples to have a fight, occasionally, but the secret is to a healthy fight, Nate, is when you actually communicate. So far this has been pretty one-sided, I think.”

Nate snorts derisively, but stiffens as the blade of the knife moves, the point beginning to press at a spot just under the side of his jaw, where the bone angles up towards his ear.

It’s reassuring, to have the knife at his neck and not up on his face. Bram doesn’t like to cut anything you could actually bleed to death from, so the odds of getting his throat slit are pretty slim to none.

He’s less confident in whether or not he’ll get to keep his eyes, especially since Bram’s even more psychopathic sister keeps talking about how pretty they are, and Nate’s a little afraid Bram’s going to leave him alone with her one day and come back to a blind captive and Ashley Denner bragging about her totally unrelated brand new set of eyes in a jar. 

“This is not what I would consider healthy communication,” Nate replies, and as long as his eyes are closed, he can hold on to the anger, to himself. If he never looks right at Abraham Denner, if he doesn’t let himself fall into the ice, break through to the darkness under the surface, he still has control of this, if nothing else.

The only control he has left is his occasional ability to hold onto his own mind, and even that has begun to slip.

“Why not?” The point of the knife presses in, just a little, and Nate hisses air through his teeth. 

“Because I can’t fucking move my hands, Bram!” His back’s against the wall, but with his hands tied behind his back with thick ropes that dig in and rub his skin raw, Nate has to arch his back not to press hard enough on them to hurt. 

Bram moves closer to him, and Nate can feel the cold of him before he feels the nudge of a hip against the side of his, the brush of his skin, the whisper of frozen breath along his ear. “What’s wrong with this, hm? You need your hands tied or you don’t focus very well, do you? So really, I’m helping you here. This is the best way to get you to be honest with me, Nate.”

“Or to get me to tell you anything you want to hear out of sheer fear for my life,” Nate mutters, and the knife digs in just a little. He stiffens, waiting with his eyes closed, and sure enough - he feels the pinprick of pain as it breaks the skin, the moment of anticipation, and then Bram’s cold tongue laps the drop of blood that wells up from his neck.

He shudders, half in disgust - but after a year with them the disgust isn’t the strongest reaction any longer, and Nate hates himself for that. 

He’s pushing his luck as it is, but Bram came home in a good mood, and Nate is in a terrible one, and he couldn’t stop himself from trying, even if just for a little while, to remember who he is when he’s not looking into Abraham Denner’s eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Bram points out, pulling back. Warm air rushes to fill the space where his frigid chill was, and Nate shivers at the sudden change, goosebumps rising along his arms. “I would know if you did that, and I would cut deeper until you were honest with me.”

“You cut me up anyway.”

“But not deeply.”

He can’t really argue that. The slices all across his torso and shoulders are always shallow, enough to burn and itch while they heal and drive him insane, but not enough to cause any severe permanent damage. Most of them don’t even scar, unless Ashley’s the one doing the cutting.

He’s special, according to Bram. He’s different than the others (and Nate wants to ask, wants so badly to ask about these mysterious others but he also very much doesn’t, never will), he’s important.

He’s fucking trapped, is what he is.

Kidnapped by psychopaths, held here, drugged with whatever they put in his water and by the things that move behind Bram’s eyes, the spell that weaves around his voice. Nate’s anger builds when he’s left alone in the house, or when he’s with Ashley. He constructs elaborate ideas for ways he could get out of this.

Then Bram walks in the door, looks him in the eyes, and Nate feels himself go weak in the goddamn knees.

There’s a pause, and then Bram slides a hand up his face, cold palm and fingertips against his cheek, his cheekbone, up to his temple. The knife stays right where it is, slowly pushing in, and Nate wonders if another bead of blood is welling up.

He has his answer when Bram licks again.

“I love you,” Bram breathes into his skin, and where he touches Nate he feels frozen, pushing himself away as best he can, ignoring the pain in his wrists and hands as the pressure of his back forces them to hit the wall at an angle that pushes all the small bones awkwardly together. 

The knife trails down the side of his neck again, pricks at his collarbone just a little, cuts through a bandage and over an earlier wound, making Nate groan, low in his throat, at the resurrected pain there. 

“Won’t you tell me you love me, baby?” Bram asks, nuzzling into his face as his knife cuts a little deeper in a straight line down his ribs.

“No,” Nate grinds out between gritted teeth. “Because I fucking don’t.”

Nate wants to scream and to cry all at once because it was one thing to be targeted by a psycho for torture but to be forced to say you loved him, too, it was just all too fucking much.

And when they put enough of that shit in his water, sometimes he didn’t have to be coerced with a knife.

“You will,” Bram says softly, cold breath against his face. “Don’t worry, baby. One day you’ll love me so fucking much, if I want you to…”

“What are you two bastards doing?” Ashley’s voice, sharp as the crack of a whip, is enough of a surprise that Nate’s eyes fly open.

Bram pulled the knife back, his nose still just brushing Nate’s cheekbone, leaning his other arm on the wall. The two of them turned to look at her in the same moment, heads turning, Nate’s black hair mingling with Bram’s white-blonde.

He and Bram, he thinks, look like two teenagers caught making out in the hallway by a parent, and he feels himself flush, unwillingly, as much from having the thought at all as from the image. He doesn’t have to fake the scowl on his face.

He tries to arch away from his hands, to take some of the pressure off, but Bram presses closer to him at the same moment and his stomach flips and his heart skips a beat and how the fuck does Bram do this to him?

“We had a fight,” Bram says casually. “We’re making up. What were you doing?”

“Hunting. What does it look like I was doing?” Ashley’s at the other end of the hallway, dressed in an unzipped black hoodie over a black tank top and jeans, and she is coated in blood. Spatters have dried brownish on her face, soaked into her hair until it hangs in strangely-colored clumps, the blood on her hands is still more red, obscenely wet, and looks like it might drip on the floor.

A few months ago, Nate might have found this surprising.

Now, he was mostly just pissed that he would be the one scrubbing the blood drips out of the floor later on.

“Was it a good hunt?” Bram asks, as though it’s an everyday occurrence for his twin sister to walk in up to her elbows in blood while he’s slowly cutting stripes into the captive he is absolutely convinced is his boyfriend.

Well.

It is an everyday occurrence here. 

“Good enough,” Ashley said, looking down at her left hand, spreading the fingers out and contemplating the drying blood there. “Bought us some time. Couple of good bodies.” She looks slowly up, tilting her head, and Nate finds himself pushing back against the wall and away from those cold eyes, nearly leaning to the side into the span of Abraham’s arm. 

Between the two of them, he’d pick Bram every time - at least Bram seemed interested in letting him survive this.

Ashley rolls her eyes. “Can you two stop fucking in the hallway long enough for me to get to the shower?”

“Ashley.” Bram raises an eyebrow. The knife jabs into Nate’s ribs again, catching him by surprise, and he cries out in pain before he catches himself and his mouth slams back shut, but he hears Bram’s soft delighted exhalation in response. “You would have heard it if we were-”

“Ugh, fuck off,” Ashley groans, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be gross, Brammie.”

Nate feels a deep, instinctive urge to ask her where the fuck she got off judging them when she was coated in someone’s blood, and just barely fights it back. 

Bram snorts in laughter. “Fine, fine.” He turns to look at Nate, who looks back at him before he remembers not to, and in Bram’s eyes Nate feels himself fade. The anger that roils in him sloughs off and away, piece by piece, and Nate will trade whatever of himself he has to in order to survive the dark things that swim in the depths of the ice he is staring into. “Should we go back to our room and talk this thing out, Nate?”

“There’s nothing to goddamn talk about, Bram,” Nate says, but all the fight has gone out of his voice, and he knows Bram can hear it, because the smile already on his face spreads a little wider. 

Ashley wanders towards them, clumping gracelessly in her heavy boots, stopping to raise one bloody hand to cup Nate’s face. “Is he being a shit today, Brammie? I can fix that. You know I’m good at fixing him when he’s bad.”

“He’s mine,” Bram says, turning to look at his sister without any real jealousy or irritation. “I can fix him just fine on my own.”

“But I like the little cuts…” Ashley smiles, and there is blood on her teeth, too. “I like the big ones. I like the hitting and the skinning and the… if he’s not being a good relationship partner, Brammie, if he’s hurting my baby brother-”

“Hardly,” Bram snorts.

“Enough to count,” Ashley sniffs. “If he’s hurting you, let me fix him.”

Nate, trapped between the bloodsoaked ice queen and the glacial monster that thinks it loves him, has his choice of one kind of dying or the other.

Nate takes a deep breath, considers what options he even has, and turns to look right into Bram’s eyes. “I’ll talk to you,” He says, trying to pitch his voice lower, softer, sweeter. “Let’s, um, let’s talk, you and I.” It’s surprisingly easy, easier every day, and when he looks right at him and into his eyes he can feel  part of him whisper, he loves me, and when something like Abraham Denner loves you, you don’t get to choose.

“Good. Then you can get the fuck out of my hallway,” Ashley says, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as she pulls back and away. “I need a shower. Nate’s gonna make me a drink when I’m done, yeah?”

“I think we’ll be busy,” Bram says, grabbing Nate by the rope that bound up his arms, turning him to walk in the direction of the big bedroom at the end of the hall. His heart pounded, but it was better than being alone with her.

Even if it meant being pulled under by the things in Bram’s eyes.

Even if it meant the knowledge that one day the real Nate Vandrum might be totally subsumed by the version of him he wore alone with Bram.

“Tell me you understand, baby,” Bram says, and there’s a hand guiding him by the ropes that tie his arms behind his back until they’s covered in welts and bruises, there’s a knife in his side that will soon be cutting him open to bleed for Bram’s endless appetite. “Tell me you love me.”

“I understand. I love you,” Nate says, eyes on the floor, and he doesn’t mean it.

Except that sometimes, when he looks right into Bram’s eyes and listens to his low, deep voice, he does.

“See?” Bram says brightly, shoving Nate ahead of him into the bedroom, watching Nate lose his balance and crack hard onto his knees on the floor, listening to his hissed curse at the pain. “All it takes is some open and honest communication. And maybe you’re thinking it’s not honest, because you don’t love me, but trust me, baby, you will. Everyone loves me, eventually. You know what, Nate?”

“What?” Nate grunts, trying to stand back up, but Bram’s hand slams down on his shoulder and holds him. The knife is a bloom of pain at his shoulder, and he hisses, grinding his teeth together as hard as he can. He can feel the blood this time, the warm droplets that run down his cold skin, and he shivers when Bram licks that up, too. 

The pain is always a promise, here - it’s never just a threat.

He’s going to die with these people, and they’re going to make him absolutely fucking crazy first.

“You’re so goddamn miserable,” Bram breathes out in pure ecstasy. “We’re going to be so happy together. Now… let’s see what I can do with your shoulder blades today.”

[hornsbeforehalos]

Waste Love: Part Sixteen

Pairing: Colson Baker|Machine Gun Kelly x OFC Warnings: Language, Alcohol and Drug Use, Smut, Violence, Angst, Fluff A/N: Sorry this took forever! I know I been slacking plus my internet being bullshit. I should be back on my jam though soon! 

“So when I get back we gotta get the living situations figured out.” Colson said into the receiver, his phone cradled in between his cheek and shoulder as he focused on rolling the joint in front of him, “We gotta get all your stuff across the country.”

“What are you talking about?” Tiffany chuckled from her end of the line, her voice light and airy and making Colson miss home more than ever before. 

“What do you mean, ‘What am I talkin’ ‘bout?’” Colson asked, confusion contorting his voice slightly as he furrowed his brow before licking the glue of the paper and twisting the spliff closed. 

“I’m not moving in with you, Colson.” She replied, her tone obvious and knowing. He could picture her rolling her eyes at him and giving him that look she always gave him, but this time, instead of making him smile and laugh, irritation prickled through him as he snatched the lighter out of Rooks hand beside him. He ignored the “What the fuck?” from his friend and stood from the couch, his feet stomping loudly as he retreated to the bedroom of the suite.

“The fuck you mean you’re not movin’ in?” Colson demanded as he slammed the door to the room shut. His voice was lowered but still stained with venom as he gritted his teeth and walked towards the balcony. 

Colson heard her sigh as he sparked the joint, annoyance bleeding through the line when she replied, “I’ve already explained this shit to you, Colson, please don’t.”

“Nah, fuck that,” he retorted, inhaling deeply from the joint, “It ain’t cuz your fuckin’ job. I talked to Reedus and he straight up said you could work from wherever.”

“The fuck? You went behind my back and-“

“Nah, stay on the fuckin’ subject, bitch.” Colson interrupted, hitting the joint again quickly, “I want the real fuckin’ reason. You’re supposed to be my goddamn wife.” 

“Oh what the fuck ever, Colson,” Tiffany huffed, her voice raising with her anger, “I don’t wanna hear that shit. Im not some dumb fucking bimbo like all the other bitches you keep around.”

“So now we back on this bullshit, huh?”

“Do you really think I’m stupid, Kels? Seriously? Or blind or some shit?” Tiffany snapped, yelling through the phone, “I see everything, even when I’m not fucking there. Like the three blonde whores that were in the hotel last night. Or the brunette in the bus the night before. Or the-“

“Forreal? So now you’re on some stalker shit?” Colson replied, a sarcastic chuckle leaving his lips before taking another hit, “You think I’m fuckin around?”

“Stalker shit?!” Tiffany shreaked, her voice so loud, he had to pull the screen away from his ear, “You think that’s me being a fuckin’ stalker, mother fucker? Are you on fucking crack?”

A loud, guttural, roar came through the line, followed by the loud crash of something glass breaking in the background. 

“Sounds like some shit a stalker would do.” Colson replied with a shrug, taunting her. 

“Fuck you, Colson. You’re a fucking bitch, you know that? This whole fucking engagement is just as much a big ass joke to you as it is me.”

“So its all a joke, huh?” Colson asked, his lips hissing as he held in a cloud of smoke for a moment before letting it be pushed from his lungs, “Me asking you to marry me in front of fifty thousand people was a fucking joke?”

“Apparently! You flew to fucking Paris the next night and fucked four different bitches, you nasty fucking whore!” She screamed back, her voice cracking and hoarse. Colson pictured her crying, mascara running down her face as she yelled at him with all the anger in her heart that he had in his. Except he was angry at himself. 

He knew people were taking pictures when he walked through that hotel, and he knew that that dumb slut had been recording on the bus, and that someone had seen him in Paris. Cameras were constantly in his face no matter where he was.  He didn’t know why, but for some reason he just believed it either wouldn’t get back to her, or that she somehow magically wouldn’t care. 

He knew better. 

“You know how fucking embarrassing it is to have your engagement in a TMZ article one night and then see one with your fiancé with another bitch right beside it the next day?” Tiffany gritted out, her voice low and seething, “But did you hear me say one fucking thing about it to you? Huh? Or any of the others? Huh?”

Grinding his teeth together, Colson couldn’t even get his jaw to open as he ground out a “No.”

“And now you wanna throw a fucking tantrum and wonder WHY I won’t throw every thing that I’ve busted my ass for over the last year away for you? Why I refuse to call you anything other than my good friend, even though right now I wouldn’t consider you that, either.”

“So what? You never wanted to marry me? Everything don’t mean shit?” He huffed, his chest tightening as he stomped the rest of the roach into the ashtray forcefully.

“Of course I want to marry you, Colson! But we both know that you’re not fucking serious about any of it! I’m not going to call you my husband when every time I open Twitter, I’m being tagged in videos of you with your tongue down another bitches throat!” 

“Mannn,” Colson whined, sucking his gums before standing up and leaning over the balcony, the Italian skyline boring and unappealing to him as he fought with her, “I didn’t fuck none of them bitches, and you know that.”

“No, I don’t.” She replied, her voice even, though still venomous, “When you’re Machine Gun Kelly, you have no rules. You do whatever you want, without consequence.”

Colson knew she was right, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. But he also knew that he was telling her the truth, he hadn’t fucked anyone else but her, which made him all the more frustrated. He wanted her to believe him, but he understood why she couldn’t. His chest ached with the need for her to trust him, but hell, could he really even trust himself?

Before he had a chance to think of a reply, she continued, “I’m supposed to be apart of the family but my own brother has your back more than mine. Slim, Dre, all of them, they look at you like you really are some golden god or something that can do no wrong. They look at me like they did Ashley and Amber- temporary. Which is exactly why Rook didn’t want me with you. He knew this was how it was gonna go.”

Her voice was still low but the anger and hate was gone, replaced by sadness and defeat, “I let you back in my life as Colson, forgetting that I know Machine Gun Kelly too. While I’m in love with both, right now neither one is ready to get married.”

“So what? You don’t wanna be with me or somethin’?” Colson questioned, pushing off the railing and moving to sit back down in the chair, his back hunched over as he rested his elbow on his knee, “If you been feelin’ like this, why haven’t you said shit?”

She sighed again, her breath shaky as she sniffed, “I want to be with you, Cols. I really do. I love you, but if we’re going to be serious then you need to be serious.”

“I am serious, Tiff. I’m not playing when I said I didn’t fuck them chicks. Yeah, I shouldn’t have been doing that shit regardless, but I never put my dick in them. This shit ain’t easy for me, and I need you to tell me when I’m outta pocket. Especially if it got you feelin’ like this.” 

“I’m not tryna change who you are, Kels. I want you to know that.”

“I know you ain’t. But if I want you to be my wife then there’s shit I gotta do.”

Colson took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh, relief flooding through him at the knowledge that she wasn’t going to leave him. Determination replaced his anxiety and anger and he straightened his posture, rubbing his jaw with his fingertips as he thought to himself. 

“I love you, Tiff. An’ I don’t care what you say, you’re gonna marry me. I’mma prove to you that I’m serious about this shit, for real.”

She let out a chuckle, the sound making him smile, “I hope so, Kels. Just stop with the moving shit, please?”

His smile widened as he let out his own snort, “Oh, baby, gimme a month and you’ll be the one begging to move in.”

—

Tiffany sat at the baggage claim, scrolling through her Instagram feed with a bored look on her face while she waited for her luggage to come through the revolving belt. She smiled at the screen in her hand, unable to keep the eye roll from appearing as she watched her brother’s story. A obviously drunk Colson pointed to the camera, his grin goofy and pale eyes unfocused.

“What do you wanna say to the folks at home, Kels?” Rook laughed, his own voice laced with inebriation.

“I jus’ wanna say that I fucking love you, Tiffany Cappalletty.” Colson slurred, his lips puckering as he leaned in to kiss the phone, “Muah! I love you baby, I miss you, and I’ll be home soon!”

Tiffany snorted and shook her head, clicking the screen closed when she finally spotted the black and purple luggage being spat out of the machine. 

She cocked and eyebrow at the man standing in front of her when she turned around after pulling her bag off the conveyor belt, “You seen me struggle with that shit and just let it happen, asshole.”

“It was cute. Plus I wanted to see the pride in your eyes when you got to done.” Her father responded with a shrug, pulling her into his side as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “How was your flight, baby girl?” 

“Fine, when the thing finally took off.” She scoffed, shaking her head as they headed towards the exit and into the parking garage. 

“Everything’s all set up, right?” Tiffany questioned, her eyes narrowing as she looked to her dad over the top of the car after opening the door, “You did what I asked?”

“Yes, dear,” he replied sarcastically, smirking at his daughter before climbing into the vehicle, “Only one small issue.”

“Oh Lord,” Tiffany whined as she plopped herself into the seat with a groan, “What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing major,” Pop clarified, smirking at her as he reversed out of the parking space, “Just a small change of plans.”

The ride back to her dads house was easy and quick as the duo talked and listened to music like they always did, and Tiffany’s smile was beaming when they finally pulled into the drive way. 

It faded, through, when she noticed how many cars where parked around the street. 

“Daaaad, they fucking didn’t!” She groaned, stomping her feet childishly before pushing the door to the car open and climbing out, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Her father’s explanation iwas cut short when the front door of the house burst open, Colson, Rook, Slim, and Baze all bounding out recklessly with beaming smiles on their faces.

“Tiffanyyyyyy!” Slim screeched before tackling the poor girl, a deep whoosh of breath leaving her when her back hit the plush grass. A dog pile ensued, with Colson being the at the top, Tiffany’s breath crushed out of her but a smile still planted across her face. 

“Get the fuck off me, assholes!” She choked, smacking Slim’s side and Rook’s head the best she could. The boys rolled off of her, all laughing as they pulled her to her feet. Colson snatched her hand easily and reeled her into him, his lips attaching to hers as his long arms wrapped around her tiny frame. 

“Tryna throw a party without me, I see.” Colson teased, nodding his head to towards the thumping music coming from the house.

Tiffany smirked and rolled her eyes, her hand coming across to smack his chest, “You’re the one that started without me.”

“Well lets go play catch up, girl!” Her father laughed, waving everyone inside.

Colson pulled her into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders as he leaned in to kiss her temple. “It’s good to be home.”

“Yeah,” she replied, looking up to him with a smile, “it really is.”

Masterlist

Tags:  @cobainscocaiine @coffee-obsessed-writer @through-thesilver-lining @daryldixonandfrogs @buckyscrystalqueen @mgkobsessed @iamdorka @creatureofthen1ght-v3 @xxencagedxx @xxkellsvixen19xx  @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @bvibunny138 @crystalbaby12 @abbysdogcollar

*credit for the bomb ass banner is to best friend @coffee-obsessed-writer

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 7 + 8!]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] 

Y’all have no idea how much the love I received for chapter six meant to me. I was having a pretty rough day and y’all helped to live my spirits. THANK YOU! 

As always, if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know. Peace & Love! We’re almost at the halfway point! 

CHAPTER SEVEN

It’s quiet as a church mouse inside of Penn’s library on this Friday night, just the way Ciara likes it. As much as she loves the distractive “study buddy” that is Trevante, she rather find herself hunched in the stacks of the library, books as the only thing keeping her company. 

She finds herself inside of the small study room right next to the Philosophy and Religious Studies section of the library. Although Fridays bring quiet, tonight feels different. Midterms time different. Students forgo the Jagermeisters and Natty Lights for one night in the stacks, enough to erase their guilt for not being in the books enough every other day of the year. Ciara caught that guilt too, thanks to Y’lan. That’s why she’s here. 

Ciara had Y’lan on her mind when she walked into her apartment that night after their meeting. She forgot how much he would make her melt caught up in his sweltering energy.  Knowing that he belongs to no one, the idea of him coming back into her life pressed her core. 

She felt herself ache in the same places  he ignited every time he touched her, reminiscing about those times she couldn’t wait for him to leave her apartment so she could “get it over with.” But now she didn’t need a toy, she had Trevante. 

Come over. I need you so bad. 

They didn’t make it to her room. 

She found herself alone that next morning. Trevante didn’t stay the night and for the first time since she broke her rules to have sex with Trevante, she felt like one of his rostermates. Trevante disappeared too early to caress her back as her body laid on top of his, drifting in and out of sleep. There wasn’t any small talk before he got into the shower, no whispers begging her to call out of work. Instead she woke up to her naked body, covered by one of her cheap throws, barely hanging onto her couch, wondering why Trevante left her there in the cold without his body to keep her warm. 

She thought she was excluded from that type of treatment. But then her mind twisted it into some penance for calling Trevante over to satiate what Y’lan created within her. 

So as Ciara chomps at her thesis paper, she pines away to hit the halfway point before midnight. She needed to escape into calm before the storm: No Trevante, no Y’lan, no sex, no noise. Especially with her girls’ weekend with Mahalia and Ashley just one week away. 

It’s been so long since she’s parked in her saved seat at Ngosi with Ashley behind the bar and Mahalia by her side. Mahalia and Ashley miss their girl too. 

As Ashley preps for the late night rush, she looks over to Mahalia staring at a Twitter timeline barely moving on a Friday night. She can tell Mahalia misses her best friend. 

“Is Ciara coming later, Ma…?” 

“"No. She's probably under Trevante right now."

"Girl, no she ain't..."

"Oh she ain't tell you..."

Ashley slams the cash register drawer closed and whips around to look at Mahalia. She thought Ciara heeded all the warnings. 

"Trevante hit, Ash..." 

"Okay, we need this trip to get here like now...Ciara, damn..." 

“Girl, I know. I need this shit to stop.”

Mahalia’s hate for Trevante grows after every minute Ciara doesn’t respond to her text. Although she knows Ciara is being a good girl tonight by hiding in the library, she wants reassurance that Ciara is on her right grind. She then desires a green light to prove to Ciara that Trevante isn’t worth the contradiction she bathes herself in every night. 

As Ashley bathes her glasses in rinse water, she notices Trevante walk into Ngosi with several men in tow, decked in greek paraphernalia. “Oh shit. Lambda Lambda Phi until we die just walked up in here.”  They’re turning all the heads as they locate a long table. 

“Ashley, hide the Alize. You know they the cheap ones. Make sense Trevante is one of them.”

But what Mahalia sees next makes her grab her phone to text Ciara. The green light to get her best friend back just walked in the door alongside Trevante. 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

“Who let these little girls in here?”

Mahalia marvels at Meganne and her sorority sisters gazing at Trevante’s mouth with every word he speaks. Although he promised his frat to take out the neophytes from nearby LaSalle,  he wasn’t expecting to see Meganne and her friends, forgetting that her sorority would be at the Lambda’s Fall probate. So when Meganne saw Trevante ordering Ubers for all of his new “bruhs”, her and her girls flirted with one of the new greeks to get details. Suddenly, they weren’t far behind and it was too late for Trevante to tell her not to come. 

“Girl, I don’t know. But I’m going to kill the bouncer for letting them in here.” Ashley stalks from behind the bar, walking up to Trevante’s table full of Lambda babies. She settles in front of Trevante with an incredulous look, berating Trevante with just her eyes for surrounding himself with the girl crew. 

“Baby girl, can I see your ID?”

“Why? They checked it at the door.”

“It’s Friday night. We check twice.”

The non-descript sorority girl rolls her eyes as she hands over her ID. Ashley points to the other girls to give up their identities while Trevante tries not to catch eyes with her. He peers over to the bar, hoping that Mahalia in’t there yet discovering there will be no such luck tonight. With fears of her sending an incriminating text to her best friend, he sends a preemptive one to Ciara. He’ll put out the fire once he gets home. 

You still coming home around midnight, right? 

Ciara pulls out her earbuds at the sight of her phone vibrating on top of the desk. When she sees Trevante’s name, she smiles. Nevermind those thoughts of feeling left like one of his groupies last night. 

Yeah, love. What’s up?

She’s hoping that Trevante will tell her that he misses her, that he rather not be around these college kids. He told her that he found himself obligated to take the new frat out on the town but she wants to read that he can’t wait to see her, that he is on his way home and will ride all the way over to West Philadelphia to pick her up. 

Nothing. Just checking. 

That isn’t the answer she craves to hear from Trevante. As she puts down her phone, she notices a large presence standing just inside of the doorframe to the study room. Once she looks up, the figure begins to move down the hallway. 

“Winston, wait!”

Winston turns around to find Ciara standing outside of the door, waving for him to come back. Winston finds himself in the library as well, working on the plethora of papers and projects he has due. He walked past Ciara once with his eyes glued through the glass as he watched her map out her research paper on the white board. He wanted to talk to her, only stopping himself to not interrupt her even after his heart worked up the nerve to even take a chance. 

“Hey, Winston. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you by the door.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You were zoned in.”

Waiting for a text from Trevante, not on her paper. 

“Yeah. You’re working on papers?”

“Yes. They’re beating my as--sorry.”

“Are you apologizing for cursing?” Ciara laughs at Winston’s adorable nature. She hated to turn him down after he asked her out on a date, especially after she felt vibes and energy between them as she toured him around campus. But since she knew him as Y’lan’s friend, she decided against it, even when she was free and in the clear. 

The hypocrisy of her dating Trevante despite his friendship with Y’lan is beyond apparent to her now. 

“Sorry. I was raised not to cuss in front of women.” Winston punches his statement by pushing up his glasses.

“I respect tradition, Sir. It’s all good.”

It’s all good to Winston too, marveling at Ciara’s body in her cut off school hoodie, tights and classic Jordans. Big hoop earrings and braids in a half-bun, the rest cascading down her back. Winston’s large frame gave him nightmares about crushing his lovers. He knew he wouldn’t have that problem with Ciara. He’s trying yet failing to coerce his sexual thoughts into a restful position, especially as he watches Ciara walk into the study room. He follows her like a magnet. 

And makes a move. 

“You mind if I work on my paper in here? I didn’t see many open spaces out there.”

Ciara looks out to see quite a few open tables in the main part of the library but she humors Winston. Trevante doesn’t have attention to spare yet Winston’s attention is undivided. 

“Of course! Let me clear you off some space.” 

As Ciara cleans off her study space, she receives a text from Mahalia. 

I guess your man loves hanging out with little kids. SMH 

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

[beautifulbows924]

Under The Table (Request)

(Boss AU!)Cable X (Female!)Reader

Deadpool Masterlist

Masterlist

Request from @cheeseburgermclardass: Hello, I'm not sure if you do requests at this moment but I was wondering if you could do an Office AU for cable x reader? I was thinking something along the lines of Boss/Worker? If you could maybe add some smut that would be good too. Thank you :)

A/N:This was interesting to write. I don't write smut a lot, so I hope that this is ok. Oh and just a quick note... none of you have to donate to me, but my laptop is completely busted at this point. So if you like my writing and you can donate even just a few dollars towards me buying a new one that would be absolutely amazing. I hope all of you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated❤️

Warnings: Mature Content- Smut, getting caught, Oral Male and Female receiving, etc. 

Word Count: 2k+

“Hey Y/N, over here!”, Shouted one of my friends waving me over. They had talked me into going out with them, since we hadn’t been hanging out that much, because of my job. I had been non-stop working lately and at least I would be doing something fun for once.

“Hey everyone!”, I yelled trying to be heard over the loud music. Everyone replied in a chorus of hello’s.

Ashley tried to hand me a drink, but I declined, “I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow.”, I said trying to push the glass away.

“It doesn’t even have alcohol in it.”, She told me. I felt a bit skeptical of her words, but nonetheless I took the drink from her anyway. 

“Wow, that was really good.”, I said after finishing the glass, I wondered what was in it.

“I told you.”, She said handing me another.

We all talked and caught up for about an hour when our favorite song came on.

My friends grabbed ahold of my hands and took me to the dance floor. The lights were flashing in an array of color and I could feel the music encompassing everything. I danced around shaking my body to a rhythm I didn’t know I had within me.

I felt free- I felt alive, it was amazing!

For about ten minutes.

After then I felt extremely sluggish and tired. It was like my arms and legs were attached to sandbags. The whole room was spinning, “I thought you said that drink didn’t have any alcohol in it?”

“I said that?”, She asked me giggling. I was screwed. Of course, she didn’t really know what she was saying- she was drunk.

“You have got to be kidding me.”, I said dragging my feet away from the dance floor before I blacked out.

I didn’t come out my stupor until the next morning. I was wrapped up in my dark covers, with no remembrance of how I got there. I groaned, my head was pounding against my skull painfully. I grabbed my phone and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I scrolled through my notifications to find that I had a ton of notifications from my friends and- Nathan?

‘Why would he be texting me this early?’, I wondered out loud.

I went to our messages.

Oh no.

This cannot be happening.

10:54 PM Chat Log:

Y/N: Hey Hot stuff;)

Nathan: Y/N?

Y/N: You know it’s really unfair you’ve never kissed me before. Why are you keeping your lips from me?

Y/N: I want them

Y/N: Nathan Pleaseee

Nathan: You’re drunk, where are you?

Y/N: I’m not drunk

Y/N: Ok maybe a little

Nathan: Where are you?

Y/N: I’m at that bar next to our office

Y/N: You know the pretty one with all those lights?

Nathan: Yes, I know what you are talking about, I’m coming to get you.

Y/N: You’re no fun

Y/N: Party Pooper

8:00 AM Chat Log:

Nathan: Hey, I hope you are feeling better from last night. I’ll see you at work. We really need to talk later. -N

I sighed putting my head into my hands, ‘What have I done? Not have I only let my boss know of my crush on him, but I also looked like an absolute fool.’

I just wanted to curl up into my covers and die.

Preferably before work.

When I got into work I kept my eyes trained on the floor, both out of embarrassment and comfort- I couldn’t stand to look into any bright lights at the moment. I blushed just thinking about what I had said the night before. ‘I’m his personal assistant not his girlfriend’, I reminded myself, while I walked to my desk, trying to hide as much as possible. I was hoping that he wouldn’t even say anything- maybe we could just forget about it? I sighed in irritation, I knew that wouldn’t be the case.

We worked for a huge cooperation, which Cable was the CEO of. All the employees pretended that the company was about technology- but everyone knew the truth. We were who to call when you wanted someone dead.

Cable’s X-Force duties sometimes got in the way of “regular” work, and at those times he wouldn’t be able to come in for a few days.

At the moment, I really wished it to be one of those days.

When he didn’t come to see me for quite some time, I thought that he wasn’t there, but then he walked out of his office with one our new clients.

I quickly ducked down under my desk. I could hear his voice and footsteps coming closer and closer. Finally, I heard him bid goodbye to the client and seemingly walk away.

So, when he leant down to look at me, it was startling.

“Come to my office, we need to talk.”, He said in his deep voice that always made me nervous. I could feel my hands shake and become sweaty as I followed him to his office. I wiped my hands on my skirt before walking in behind him. The finality of the door closing behind me made me even more anxious.

“What do you remember about last night?”

“Not much- I’m sorry. Thank you for taking me home.”, I told him my voice shaky.

“Did you mean what you said?”, He asked eyeing me up and down.

I licked my lips, a nervous tick of mine. “I have no idea what you are talking about, mean what?”, I lied trying to play dumb.

“Don’t lie to me darling.”, He replied almost instantly. It was as if could feel the room shake with tension.

“Really I told you sir I don’t know what you are- “, I tried to cover up again, but he wasn’t having it.

He had me pushed up against the wall, his arms pressing down on my waist, trapping me within seconds. I whimpered, wondering what he would do next. My pussy throbbed in excitement and I could feel wetness pool in between my thighs.

“Say that you want me and I’m all yours.”, He told me, caressing my side gently with one hand, his other holding my cheek.

In those moments I know I stopped breathing, only remembering how to breathe when my lungs hurt so bad it burned.

“I want you.”, I said in whisper that was so low I barely heard it myself. However, that’s all he needed to hear. He hoisted me up to where my legs were wrapped around his waist and he kissed me like an intense flame that wouldn’t be quenched easily. I moaned into the kiss as it deepened, and when my mouth opened, he instantly started to explore it with his tongue.

When we finally had to release one another for air- I took a good look at him. His lips were red and swollen, his pupils were dilated, and his hair was stuck up in places where I had tugged on it. This break didn’t last for long, once we had caught our breath enough we went right back at it.

He set me down on his desk, my legs still wrapped around him pressing against him firmly. I could feel his erection against me and I tried to grind into him wanting to gain some friction to get rid of the ache that was spreading, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Patience kitten.”, I whimpered at his words.

He kissed my neck and grabbed my legs, making me release my hold on his waist. He let go of me and I cried out at the loss of contact. I needed him.

Now.

But soon his touch was on me again. He pushed up my skirt to reveal my panties, which he quickly discarded, slipping them into his pocket. “You won’t be needing those anymore, now will you?”

I nodded yes, my words would have been incoherent anyway. He chuckled a bit before leaning down and pressing kisses on the inner of my thighs. He eventually got so close that I could feel his breathe caress my core. I whined and squirmed relentlessly, but he just held down my thighs tighter.

Finally, he pressed the softest kiss to my clit, making me try to buck up against him. This didn’t work, but slowly and surely, he sent licks to my clit. I moaned his name over and over again like it was the only thing I knew how to say. Which at the moment was probably the case.

I screamed out when I felt him add his metal fingers inside of me. They were cold, but somehow burned instead. He moved his tongue quicker and faster over my clit, forming a knot within my stomach. I could feel myself being pushed over the edge. I was in sensory overload, everything was too much.

I finally felt myself release and it was like I could see the stars. He was the only thing keeping me upright, if not I knew I would have fallen over. He continued to go down on me through my high, until I whimpered at the feeling of being overstimulated.

He brought his face level to mine. He was completely covered in my cum and I could taste it like honey when he kissed me.

We heard a knock at the door and we rushed trying to hide everything as quick as possible.

Thank goodness for Cable’s office being sound proof and covered.

I climbed under his desk and smirked when I realized what I would soon be level with. This was going to be a fun meeting.

Nathan sat down in his office chair and shouted for whomever was on the other end to come in.

“Hey Nathan I just wanted to talk to you about the mission we have coming up.”, Said who’s voice I recognized to be Wade’s as he walked in and sat across from Nathan’s desk.

I got bored as they talked about the linguistics of the mission and decided to put my mission into action. I reached up to palm his dick through his pants. I could feel him tense as he smacked my hand away, telling Wade that a bug had landed on him. I wasn’t evaded and continued, determined to complete what I had begun. I unzipped his pants slowly, teasingly, as not to make too much noise and alert Deadpool of my presence.

By the time I managed to free his dick from his pants he was already fully hard, his tip red and leaking pre-cum. I licked his tip, swirled my tongue around and then took only a bit into my mouth at a time, until I wouldn’t be able to take any more in without gagging. Slowly, I bobbed my head up and down. I could see him grip the table forcefully, trying to not let any inappropriate noses escape from his mouth.

“Are you ok man?”, I heard Deadpool ask, obviously oblivious to what was transpiring under the desk.

“I’m fine.”, He said through gritted teeth. I giggled a bit with my mouth around him, sending pleasurable sensations through his shaft causing him to release into my mouth. I swallowed as he coated my throat with ribbons of cum. I was now content for the time being.

Some time later him and Wade finished their conversation. “Well Thanks for talking with me.”, He said walking towards the exit, but paused before opening it, “Oh and Y/N it was nice hearing you.” He then walked out causing me to uncontrollably burst out laughing.

“You think this is funny huh?”, Nathan asked me, picking me up and setting me on his lap.

“Yes.”

“Babygirl, you are going to be the death of me.”, He said pulling me in for a heated kiss and then pulling away, looking at me hungrily, “But I have an idea of what to do to you- because I want you to remember naughty girls get punished.”

I had no idea what I was in for, and the only thing I was sure of was that I was ready for whatever he had in store for me.

*Thanks for reading! Leave a Note or Reblog if you Enjoyed it* ~Rose❤️

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[softboywriting]

The Best Worst Thing | Prom AU | Shawn Mendes

Summary: You and Shawn hit it off during a prom after party.

Word Count: 3,015

| Masterlist |

Walking into prom was like walking into a jam packed hell with overplayed music and nicely dressed kids. Everyone was dancing, yelling, talking over each other while the music blasted from some speakers on stage. You had come with your friend and her date. Just about as third wheel as you could get. They ditched you the moment you entered the ballroom, just as you expected them too.

You weren’t going to let not having a date ruin your night though. You get a cup of punch and a few snacks and take a seat at a table around the edge of the dancefloor. A couple people you were friends with stop by and say hello, they tell you how pretty your dress is and how they can��t believe you even came. This wasn’t your scene, you knew that, they knew that, but you didn’t want to miss out on seeing your friends in their prettiest clothes. The clothes you helped them pick out over weeks on end. Everyone looked amazing and you couldn’t help but smile, knowing you’d helped them to have the night of their life.

Two cups of punch later and you decide to get up and dance a little, much to the encouragement of your best friend Ashley who you had come with. Her boyfriend Corey had gone to chat with some of his friends at another table for a while so she came to prey on you. Well, maybe not prey, but get you out of your shell a little bit.

Ashley holds your hand and leads you out to the middle of the dancefloor. There some bass heavy song playing and you find an easy enough rhythm to move to in no time. It’s a bit difficult to move in your dress, as it was longer than you usually prefered to wear and much less forgiving in the leg area. So you shuffled back and forth, arms moving beside you as you moved in time to the music. Ashley giggles, smiling at you, so proud of herself for getting you out there.

“What?” you laugh and she bites her lip, shaking her head. “Oh come on there must be something. I’m dancing horribly, I know. That’s it huh?”

“Nope!” Ashley laughs, and then the lights go out, starting up some strobe light type things and you feel someone behind you.

Suddenly there’s hands on your hips. Someone is grinding against your ass and you let out a little yelp. Quickly, you turn around and try to make out who it is. The lights are too dim but you think it might be Shawn, a friend of a friend. The two of you had hung out a few times when everyone went out bowling or after sports events. He was really popular and really well liked. Super good at soccer and also...he was the prom king. “Shawn?” you yell over the music.

“Hannah?” he yells back and you laugh.

“Uh no,” you say as you tell him it was you. He laughs and asks if you wanna dance anyways. “Yeah, uh, I’m not very good and I can’t move very much...so I dunno.”

The lights come back on and you’re standing there staring up at Shawn nervously. “So, dance?” he asks with a smile and starts doing this awkward salsa dance thing with his hands by his hips. It makes you laugh and he smiles as he grabs your hands.

“You’re so weird!” you manage to get out through your laughter as he swings your arms back and forth.

“Oh well, I guess they didn’t know who they were nominating as prom king.” Shawn does a little wave thing with your arms and you just can’t stop laughing. You’d have never guessed he was this goofy, you had hung out but he never really spent time with just you. That didn’t stop you from having a crush on him though. So this, right now, was a dream come true.

“Shawn!” a shrill voice comes from nearby. You look around and spot Hannah, the prom queen, stalking toward the two of you. “Shawn! What’re you doing? I’m your date and the prom queen? Don’t you think you should be dancing with me?”

“I don’t really see what the problem is,” Shawn mumbles, looking at you and then back to Hannah. “We danced earlier didn’t we?”

Hannah’s jaw drops and she narrows her eyes at you. “Just because we danced once doesn’t mean you’re done for the night. I’m still your date!”

“Well, can I make you not my date?”

“Are you serious?! You’re ditching me at prom?!” Hanna screeches.

Shawn just shrugs. “I only asked you because you kept dropping hints and getting all your friends to convince me to ask you as well since we were likely candidates as king and queen.”

You raise your eyebrows, remaining quiet while this all played out. Shawn was serving her ice cold and you were surprised. You would have thought Shawn had picked her because she was so pretty and popular like he was.

“I can’t...oh my god! Shawn I thought you wanted to go with me! Why would you even ask me if you didn’t like me?!”

“I was tired of being harassed by you and your friends. Asking you was the easiest way to shut all of you up.”

Hannah’s face turns red and she looks angry as she stomps away across the ballroom. You’re left standing there feeling like an awkward third wheel. Before Shawn can say thing to you, you turn and head back to your table. Shawn’s hand catches yours before you can get too far though. “What?” you ask, tugging your hand away because it was definitely sweaty from nerves.

“Do you wanna come to my after party? I’m throwing a big thing at my house since my parents are out of town,” Shawn says, shuffling nervously.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. Parties aren’t my thing, I really only came here because I wanted to see my friends.”

“Well if you want to come I live at 3304 Park Dr. It’s not that far from the school.”

“I know where that is,” you smooth your dress down and bite your lip. “I dunno, maybe I’ll stop by or something.”

Shawn smiles and bites his lip as well. “I hope you do. I’ll see you then?”

“Maybe.”

_______________________________

So that’s how you find yourself standing in your dress outside Shawn’s house a few hours later. The girl who opens the front door when you knock isn’t in a dress, in fact everyone inside looked like they were all in pretty casual clothes. You look down at your dress and then back up. “Is Shawn here?” you ask nervously.

“Um...yeah,” the girl says looking you over like you were a weirdo. You knew you shouldn’t have come. “Hey! Shawn! Someone’s here!” she yells into the house over the music blasting in the living room. You wish you could just curl up and die.

Just as you seriously consider saying nevermind and leaving, Shawn appears. He’s in a pair of skinny jeans and a hoodie with a college logo on it. “Hey! You came!” he smiles and pushes past the girl who answered initially. She rolls her eyes and wander off into the house.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, rubbing your arm nervously. “I didn’t know I was supposed to change before coming. I feel a little out of place now.”

“Oh...shit, I’m sorry,” Shawn mumbles, rubbing his neck. “Did you get a ride?” You nod and he bites his lip, thinking. Suddenly an idea comes to him and you can see his face light up as he grabs your arm and pulls you into the house. “I got something you can wear. Follow me,” he says and he practically drags you to the basement stairs.

You stumble over your dress and laugh as he wades through people. “Shawn, it’s okay! I can just wear this!” you yell over the music. He doesn’t seem to hear you because he keeps dragging you along. It’s not until you’re downstairs and it’s quieter that Shawn stops and asks if you said something. “I can just wear this,” you say gesturing to your dress. “I’m not going to be here that long probably.”

“Nah, I know that thing has to be uncomfortable. Let me give you a pair of shorts and a shirt.”

Shawn pulls you into a bedroom just off the main area which was set up like a den/study or something. It’s obviously his bedroom and he digs through a pile of folded clothes on top of his dresser. You stand awkwardly just taking in his bedroom. It was small and had the basics, a dresser, bed, nightstand, small computer desk. There were also a few guitar cases at the end of the bed and one of those electronic keyboards leaned up against the wall. He has a couple decorative scarves on the walls around his bed and a painting of some sort along the wall opposite his bed with some posters tacked up around it.

“I didn’t know you were into music,” you mumble as you cross the room to sit on his bed. “I don’t know much about you at all really. We’ve never gotten to talk too much.”

Shawn turns around from his dresser with an arm full of clothes. “I know we don’t really know each other like that, but I dunno, I’ve kind of had a thing for you for a while.” He sets the clothes next to you and turns around so you can change. “I hope that doesn’t sound creepy or something.”

“N-no. I sort of have a thing for you tool,” you blush. The fact someone like Shawn had a crush on you was unbelievable. You weren’t outstanding but you weren't ugly or something. You were just you, nothing special or so you thought anyway. Shawn was so damn sweet and popular and overall well liked. He just felt so out of your league but maybe not. Not if he was telling you he had a thing for you, that’s for sure.  “Are you sure you’re okay with me wearing something of yours?”

“It’s no problem. I’d really rather have you wear one of my shirts and get something on it then have you get something on that dress. I’m sure it was expensive because it’s really beautiful,” Shawn says to the corner of his bedroom where he’s still turned.

“Thanks,” you mumble, really not sure how to deal with him being so sweet to you directly. You sigh and change into a black tee and a pair of grey sweats and lay your dress over the back of the computer chair near the bedroom door. “I’m done,” you say softly and Shawn turns around. A smile spreads across his face as he takes you in.

“One more thing,” he says as he crosses the room and puts an arm around your shoulder. He snakes his hand into your hair and pulls away the clip that was holding your hair in it’s updo for prom. “There, much better.”

You reach up and protest as he tosses it onto the bed behind him. “Hey! Now my hair is going to be a mess. Why did you do that?” You turn around to look for it on the bed but you can’t seem to spot it in his dark bedding.

“You look amazing, come on.” Shawn grabs your arm and pulls you out of his room. “We got drinks and snacks upstairs. Let’s go get some food and talk. I promise you look perfect.”

_______________________________

Two hours later and you find yourself sitting in Shawn’s laundry room leaning against his shoulder as the two of you laugh at memes on his phone until you’re purple in the face. Both of you had drank more than a healthy amount of shots and mixed drinks. His cheeks are pink, your whole chest is pink and splotchy, something alcohol always did to you. The laundry room was the only place the two of you could find some peace and quiet since even Shawn’s room was in use by a sleeping couple.

“You’re the best,” you mumble as your laughter dies down. You rub your face against his upper arm and he looks over at you. “No, you’re the worst.”

“What?” Shawn laughs, leaning his head against the top of yours.

“You’re the best worst thing that hasn’t happened to me yet.”

“You’re drunk.”

You slap his thigh and he groans before rubbing over it. “You’re just as drunk.”

“Psh, yeah sure,” Shawn scoffs.

You sit up and put your hand in Shawn’s hair. “I’m not a drunk as you,” you giggle, wiggling your fingers against his scalp. He drops his head and lets out a loud groan as you tug his hair gently.

Shawn puts his phone down and leans toward you until he’s laying with his back to the dryer and he pulls you down in front of him so he can spoon against you. “I like your face and I like your hair,” he noses against the back of your head. “I like your smile and I like when you laugh.”

“Shawnnn,” you groan and he puts his arm around your chest.

“I like being with you, it feels natural,” he mumbles.

You put your hand over his arm and press yourself back against him. He felt natural to, as if you just fit together like puzzle pieces. Sleep comes quickly, your eyes getting heavier by the second. Shawn lets out little huffs against the back of your neck as he falls asleep also. You never would have guessed your prom night would be ending like this, but here you were.

_______________________________

You wake up to the bright light of the overhead fluorescent bulbs reflecting off the white cabinets in front of you. Your body aches and your head is pounding. Shawn is heavy against your back, his snores making your head throb worse.

“Shawn, wake up, you’re too loud,” you groan, burying you face in your arm to try and get away from his snores.

“Mmnnahhh,” he groans, rolling onto his back. “My head hurts. Kill me.”

“No can do.” You reach over and pat his chest. “We have to get up. I’m sure your house is gonna be destroyed.”

“Fuck,” Shawn breathes and sits up. “How did we get in here?”

“I think it was the only quiet place in the whole house. Someone was sleeping in your bedroom.”

Shawn groans loudly as he stands up and lays his head on the dryer. “Why did we drink so much? Why are we so stupid?” Shawn laughs, threading his finger together over the back of his head. “I wanna pull my eyeballs out, holy shit! Fucking christ!”

You stand up and shove his shoulder. “Stop yelling idiot. I have just as much of a headache.”

Shawn tilts his head to look over at you. “You look so perfect, you don’t even look hungover.”

“Well...uh,” you flush and shake your head “I am very hungover too, I promise. Let’s go see if anyone is here still.”

_______________________________

You and Shawn walk the house at a snail's pace, checking every room along the way and groaning at the amount of mess there was to clean up. It seemed like everyone was gone except for Geoff and his girlfriend in the guest room. No one had said goodbye, but then again no one could probably find the two of you after you passed out in the laundry room.

Shawn makes a bee line for the kitchen once you’re in the living room. You can hear him fumbling around as you start to collect a couple cups off the coffee table. You walk into the kitchen and toss them in the trash and find Shawn holding onto the keurig on the counter as it brews. He leans his head against the k-cup holder as it bubbles and steams, dripping into the cup below.

“You must be pretty bad,” you chuckle as you take a seat at the breakfast nook in the corner. “You look like you’re praying to that coffee maker.”

“I am,” Shawn grumbles and takes his coffee mug from the machine. He opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of blue gatorade, offering it to you silently. You take it and he sits down across from you, pushing some paper plates and solo cups off the seat. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“No? I’m going to help you clean up. This place is trashed and you’re barely human right now. I’m far less hungover than you it seems. I think you could use some help bud.”

“You’re gonna stay and help? But why? We aren’t that good of friends yet, you don’t have to.”

“I slept on the floor of your laundry room last night, with you, in your clothes. I think we’re good enough friends that I can stay and help you clean up.”

Shawn leans his hand in his hand with his elbow propped up on the edge of the table. “You’re amazing y’know.”

You shrug and take a drink of your gatorade. “Let’s go get some breakfast and then come clean this place up.”

“Are you asking me out?” Shawn smirks over his coffee mug.

You smile, looking down for a moment before biting your lip and saying, “Maybe I am.”

“Let’s go then. First date hungover. I’m down for it.” Shawn stands up and grabs his keys off the hooks near the door that lead to the garage. “The diner or fast food, your choice, I’m paying.”

“The diner. I gotta know what kind of guy I’m going out with. I always judge guys by their food choices.”

“Harsh.”

“Worried you won’t pass?”

Shawn chuckles and shakes his head, “I think you might pass me no matter what.”

You get up and cross the room to join him at the door. “I think you might be right.”

   _______________________________

I’ll properly edit tomorrow if there’s any mistakes, or just point them out to me. I’m heading to bed and I wanted to get this out before then. - A

[littleredroseonthevalley]

An Opera on Separation - Chapter 9

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | CH. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | Ch. 15 | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 |

Summary: Nathan gets out of jail on parole and electronic monitoring, but he is up for a bad surprise. Will Emily’s good deeds come back and haunt her?

Rating: T - Content not suitable for children.  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1405

Notes: So, chapter nine. Things have been moving fast. That tends to happen when you publish two to three chapters a week, right? I might even finish it before we hear from The Senior.

Don’t forget to read, review, follow and subscribe to the taglist. That’s an awful amount of things to do, you say? Well, deal with it.

No, really, do it.

Jailhouse Rock

Nathan changed into the clothing that was provided for him by the wardens, made his bunk one last time and walked over to the exit gate.

He had been detained at the FBI jail since Monday, and it was Thursday. Four days in and he is already asking for a reprieve, and he was yet to reach a federal prison.

As he arrives at the waiting room of the building, two figures walk over to him to greet him.

“Nathan!” Emily exclaims, concerned with his well-being. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here, Emily?” He asks, gruffly.

“I emailed her to come, Mr. Sterling.” The lawyer, Mr. Goldstein, said, with a stern stare at his client. “Decisions had to be made, and Miss Daniels wasn’t available to make them.”

“What do you mean she’s not available?” The fair-headed man asks, confused.

“She’s gone, Nathan.” The woman answers instead, calmly. “She gathered everything of some value at your house and skipped town.”

His mouth clenches in a thin line of unconcealed anger and his teeth grind against each other. “That bitch! Mr. Goldstein! File a complaint of theft right this minute!”

“I already did, Mr. Sterling. Much because there was a court order not to sell or remove any objects from the house. Which actually leads me to my next piece of bad news.” He took a breath and checked to see if the younger man was paying attention or yet concentrated on his fuming. “You are completely blocked, Mr. Sterling. Until such time you are tried, all your assets are frozen.”

That seemed to give pause to the fretful man. “All of them? Including my trust fund? My shares at my family’s company? My Swiss accounts?”

“Everything, Mr. Sterling. You’re penniless.” The lawyer nodded, gravely.

“Oh, God.” He cursed his fate.

Emily walked over him and patted his shoulder and wasn’t intimidated by his withering glare. “There’s one more thing to it, Nathan.”

“What could possibly be?” He said, ironic.

“When Ashley-Amber left, she really trashed the place, probably looking for things to be sold. It’s unlivable right now.” The redhead explains. “And you can’t afford to fix the house or to put down the cash needed on a deposit to rent a new place.

“I called your dad and he said you could go live with him, but Mr. Goldstein said the monitoring doesn’t work over at Martha’s Vineyard. Since I knew you’d prefer staying in prison rather than with your mother, your dad suggested his New York apartment.” She said and nodded for Mr. Goldstein to continue.

“I petitioned the court for settling your house arrest in New York, and to allow both Ms. Harper and her mother to live with you.” He said and waited for the inevitable push-back.

“No. Absolutely not.” The man laughed nervously. “It cannot be! I divorced you, Emily! Why are you doing this?!”

“You’ll need someone who shops for groceries and pays for your utilities, and even a bank account through which you’ll receive the contributions your father has agreed to pay.” Mr. Goldstein explains. “It cannot be me, as I’ll remain in D.C. taking care of your case, and it won’t be your father. Ms. Harper is your only choice at the moment.”

Nathan let out a hard breath. “Fine. Let’s go, we probably have a long way to home.”

Mr. Goldstein looked over at Emily, confused by his sudden change of attitude, but she just shrugged, also puzzled.

The imported car was parked on a truck stop by Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Emily had stopped for a bathroom break, and to refill the tank of the car. To much displeasure, she was driving the car, as Nathan’s license was also suspended.

While she was buying some snacks, the blond man kept staring wistfully at the window, as he had done the previous two hours. His ex-wife tried to engage him in conversation, but she gave up before they reached Baltimore.

He was feeling emasculated. Powerless. Nathan Sterling used to be almost a brand of perfection, he was handsome, he was kind, he was charismatic, and he was shamelessly wealthy.

And now he depended on his ex-wife.

It was like he had been murdered last Sunday and, for cruelty of the fates, woke up as a totally different person. He wishes he was really murdered, suffocated with a pillow by Ashley-Amber. He’d have left a pretty corpse behind, if it were the case.

Emily returns with a large paper bag and a large smile on her face. “Nathan, I found something that will certainly cheer you up!” She sits down on the driver’s seat and fishes out an orange soda can. “Look! Irn-Bru!”

“Irn-Bru? I never drunk that.” He responded, confused.

“Really?” She asked, surprised. “Well, I know how much you love Scotland and how fondly you look back at your time there, so I thought the number one soft drink on the Highlands would take you back to happier, simpler times.” She smiled and handed him the can.

“I told you about my trip to Scotland?” The man asks, not remembering an occasion in which he confided in her about that. He is wary on sharing that event, and a few others, on grounds that they were occasions of true happiness, and sharing it, and especially sharing with his family and ‘friends’, feel like tainting that feeling.

She nodded, enthusiastically. “Yes. Back on our junior year.”

“We met on our junior year.” He said, growing more confused.

“Yeah, it was on that Thanksgiving in which your parents took off to the Bahamas.” She provided. “Though, meeting your mother, she doesn’t come across the type that takes month-long vacations to tropical paradises.”

His mouth tinged on the semblance of a smirk. He sure loved talking ill of his mother. “It was yet another idea of my father’s to try and cure her of her workaholism. It failed, as you might presume.”

“Why, really? I couldn’t tell!” She said, with a light sarcasm that tickled him the right way. “But yeah, we drank champagne and whiskey that night, we talked until sunrise, and you told me all about your trip to Scotland.”

“Oh, right!” It dawned on him. “I don’t know why I didn’t remember it anymore. It must have been the only time I ever woke up after noon.”

“I know. You texted me exactly that when you woke up.” She giggled, and then pointed to the can. “Come on, drink it before it goes flat.”

He looked at her warily, opened the can and took a swig. “Ugh, this thing’s strong!”

“Really? Let me taste it.” She picked up the can and sipped the bright-colored drink. “God, this tastes like rotten orange juice! It’s awful!”

“The Scottish aren’t remembered by their great taste in food, after all.” The fair-headed responds, slightly amused. “Can I have a Milky Way?”

“Sure, go ahead!” The redhead offered him the assortment of candy.

“There’s a lot of Milky Ways in here.” He noted. “Is this your favorite chocolate?”

The woman smiled, sadly. “Yeah, it is. When I was little, I didn’t like how my dad would leave in the morning for work, so he’d bring me a Milky Way from the cafeteria every afternoon when he returned.”

“How… domestic.” The man noted. His parents never did such things for him. Sure, his dad cared for him, but he was third place on his concerns, after his wife and his cargo ships. But another thing nudged on his mind. “You already told me this story once, didn’t you?”

“Several times, actually.” She responds, a bitter smile on her face.

“I’m sorry.” He said, before he even noticed what he was doing. “I should’ve been more attentive.”

“That’s okay, it’s in the past.” She dismissed and turned her attentions to the highway.

Nathan resumed his window-gazing. This road trip has been a great opportunity to think about his life and choices. He meant what he said to Emily, he was sorry, especially because he has been a monster to her, and yet she’s here, something his own kin couldn’t be bothered to do.

There’s no changing the past, but he could do better in the future. He swore to himself he would be nicer to Emily from then on, that he would prove to her and to himself he was deserving of her acts of kindness.

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An Opera on Separation - Masterlist

[harderandlesspopular]

Day 3: Post-Apocalyptic

The phalanx approaching from the east was a marvel of waving silver. The glaring sun glinted off of the wide silver and black tarp from miles away. The first calls of their arrival had sounded hours ago from the old radio tower. Everyone in town had headed towards rooftops and hills, carrying binoculars and a few even setting out small picnics to watch the approach.

The energy harvesters didn’t ride fast. Precision and care were more important than speed in their line of work. The bicyclists were heroes of the new world. The carriers of energy, the new power plants of a generation. Each turn of the pedals stored power in the batteries they carried. Each hour in the sun captured in the wide silver fabric, the thinnest and most efficient solar panels thus far.

When they had first set out on the roads seven years ago, after the great meltdown, they’d been forced to carry so much equipment the energy was barely worth the toll it took on them. 

Now with their custom welded bike phalanxes, with their mountain-biker guards, and the two-lane-wide solar fabric stretched between them like an odd trampoline, it had become the livelihood of heroes. The New Pony Express, sans ponies. Though there was word that some of the towns down south had a couple of horse divisions as well, it was less efficient than the bicycles, since the wheels were producing energy too.

Ashley was sitting on the side of the Radio tower. Usually they weren’t allowed up there, but the lawmen always made an exception when there were energy harvesters approaching. It was basically New World fireworks. 

Don was swinging his feet beside her, restless. The meltdown had hit him worse than her. His right hand had been burned badly. He’d been close to a power source when it all went to hell. He always just grinned when someone brought up up and wiggled his left hand, saying ‘good thing it wasn’t this one!’

Most people didn’t get it. Some thought it meant he was left handed which, sure, he was now.  He used his left hand a LOT more. But he hadn’t been in the Before. Now, it was something a lot less about necessity and a lot more about Calling.

“Think they’ll be on board?” Don asked into the cricket-filled dusk as the phalanx of harvesters neared their town. 

They could hear them now, the churning grind of hundreds of bicycles, of batteries dragged on broken roads gathering more power with their motion. The restless flapping of the sail-like solar panels. “I mean, they’ve probably seen so many, like… Desperate situations.”

“Town’s not so bad off,” Ashley said, holding the clipboard to her chest. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m rooting for us Don. A lot of people are.”

“Yeah,” said Don, and drummed his left hand’s fingertips against the beam they were perched on.

The first mountain biker reached them not long after. Ashley saw him coming and clambored to her feet on the beam. Sometimes there were a lot of people waiting with their requests. This time there were only four of them. Ashley and Don, Georgette from up the road (she had a garden that had saved some lives all those years ago) and Madison the librarian. Ashley let Georgette go up to the road first. She even hung back for Madison. Her and Don… They’d wanted to ask for this a long time, but things had always seemed so dire. Now the radios were coming back online, and the hospital had enough healthy bodies to keep the generator charged. Now they were settling back into their lives with energy as a non-standard resource.

It had made things hard for her whole band, though maybe hardest for Don of all of them. He’d really been going places, back when there were places to go for a musician. Now, in this new world…

“Hey ladies,” Said the biker Liaison, pulling up to the side of the road and tugging down the bandanna that covered his face. “Pass over your requests!”

“Panel access for a greenhouse setup,” Summarized Georgette to the biker liaison as she stepped forward. The biker grinned at her, glancing over the request form.

“Energy access for an educational film for the kids,” Madison said, her smile reaching her eyes and her voice both as she passed over the board.

“Um,” Said Ashley, tugging her own facemask higher up anxiously.

“It’s okay,” said the biker. His face was filthy where his goggles and the mask hadn’t covered. There was a new beard growing in, and the wrinkles around his eyes were so friendly as he smiled that she was afraid to dampen his enthusiasm with her request. “I’ve seen it all. Don’t worry.”

He probably has, thought Ashley. She glanced back to Don on the radio tower then passed in her request.

“One night garageband performance,” She whispered, her face heating up at the nature of her request in comparison to the other women. “If there’s enough. I mean… It… There are some signatures so…”

“No judgement,” The biker said, his grin only seeming to widen. “I’m glad. A town that can think about music again is doing pretty well. I’ll deliver them, okay? Make sure to wave to the crew as they pass, they’ve had a hard week’s ride.”

“Sorry,” Muttered Ashley as the biker tore away, calves bulging as he tore back towards the slowly approaching phalanx. “I know you both have actual important things.”

“My educational film is an old Disney cartoon.” said Madison with an air of admission, clapping Ashley on the back. “I just didn’t want to say so in front of my personal hero Georgette.”

“Honestly,” Georgette snickered, turning to grin at them. Her milk-pale left eye and the surrounding scars were her mark from the great change, and she bore them with good humor. “You girls are so bashful. You know I only want the panels so I can set up an automatic sprinkler system again. It’s perfectly nice having some fresh produce growing, but I’d love to laze about some days.”

“Besides.” Said Madison. “It’s not just you.”

“He’s nervous.” Said Ashley, bouncing on her toes with her hands in her pockets. “It’s been a long time since we could… You know. Plug in.”

“You lot were good before the power burned.” Madison said. “They really were Georgette. They did one of the benefit shows for the library, remember?”

“Well, it was very energetic.” Georgette said tactfully. “I remember that much. I think it would do some of the others good. It’s been hard with only hand-crank gramophones.”

“I thought that’s what you were used to, G’ette,” Don said, finally having made his way down to join them. “You know, before all us young folks and our blu ray players.”

“Don’t tease, son, I know perfectly well Blu Ray was for film.” She scoffed. “And I never had to hand crank a gramophone Before. Not that I mind terribly much that records are popular again. Between the garden and the records it’s no wonder you lot tried to put me in charge. I basically turned into the town grandmother at the ripe old age of forty five. Treats for everyone.”

They laughed like she hadn’t saved their lives. They averted their eyes like they all hadn’t been part of trying to elect her their new mayor.

There were only about four hundred people left in their little town. They’d consolidated as much as they could. Done their best to make sure that the empty buildings wouldn’t become significant pest problems--Generally by tearing out what they could and opening them up to both pests and pest eaters alike. But the main drag of downtown was still fairly lively. Most of the folks left had moved in. No more landlords, no more rent. Just the places that hadn’t burned to the ground, and the people who were left.

It was enough that when the phalanx of harvesters arrived cheer rose up from those gathered. It was twelve bikers per panel, with four mountain biking guards for each. This group of harvesters had four panels. Supposedly, when they traveled down the bigger old highways, they road two and two. Ashley had heard that some of the bigger city areas had phalanxes of twenty panels at a time trawling the old highway roads. She’d heard it from the same place they heard most of the news--the riders themselves.

Usually every time they passed few some folks stopped to stay in town awhile and some folks in town joined up. It was a fair system. One that kept their whole corner of the world going. Ashley hadn’t been much good, but even she had taken a tour once, riding at the back right side of a phalanx. It was a community ordeal, and she believed in fairness. Still, though the riders had been encouraging she suspected they hadn’t been sorry that their huffing, puffing slowest pedal churner washed out after one rotation.

“Here we go,” whispered Don, leaning against her side as they watched the ride leader unfold a little step stool from his ride on gear and climb up it. What was left of the town gathered in, listening.

“Only got three requests this month,” The rider called. “Hope that means you’re all doing well and not that those three ladies have a chokehold on the community!”

Laughter followed, and the rider’s grin brightened. She was sweat drenched and panting, but the phalanx always stopped to make the needed announcements before moving forward.

“For the appeal of Georgette Middles, we have a half panel in our pack that tore in a storm two months ago! We can spare it if that will do for your power needs.”

“Perfect for a start!” Georgette called from Ashley’s side. Don pressed closer.

“For the appeal of Madison Allens, we generally avoid films, but since there isn’t much non-standard need we’ll be happy to provide supplementary power to one of your own bike generators for a film. Will that do?”

“Perfectly!” Called Madison, waving with a grin.

Don’s good hand squeezed Ashley’s fingers.

“For the appeal of Ashley Drausser, first, let me thank you for specifying number of instruments needed for powering, that’s helpful, and second we can spare power for a set of roughly half an hour so long as there are no lights necessary. And only if it’s open attendance. Sound good?”

Ashley's mouth went dry. Her breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She jammed her fist up into the air in a motion of triumph, and heard a ragged cheer go up through the crowd for her.

“Perfect,” Ashley choked, as Don shook her by the arm in eager, delighted motions. A laugh was tearing out of his throat as he jumped up and down in excitement. Their other bandmates were somewhere in the crowd, she knew.

She couldn’t believe it. She’d thought it was over.

But Dragged Ragged was finally going to be able to play again.

She met up with the Harvester planner after the mayor had given her part of the speech. Had made sure the riders knew where to go for food and water, both for their stay and for their trip. Had ensured that they knew where housing was, and where the bathing house was currently functioning. The old YMCA had seen better days, but they’d gotten the showers up and running and converted all the work out equipment into small scale energy harvesters off their own.

“Garage rock, huh?” said the planner, looking over Ashley’s paperwork again as they ironed out the details. “Gotten to play at all since the big dark started?”

“Only acoustic,” Ashley said. “We’re not bad, but—”

“Not what you love,” the planner nodded. “We’re only staying two nights. So tomorrow?”

“Sounds great,” Ashley said. “We don’t need much light, so please put the movie first? I know it’s for the kids, and our music is probably a little loud for them.”

“Oh I was thinking of making you play at nine am,” The planner snickered. “We’ll put you on at eight. Got a location?”

“Roof of the old movie theater? We kind of converted it into a community space a year or so back.”

“Done.” The planner said. “Better rally your troops and make sure you still remember how to tune, ma’am.”

“Ashley,” She said, her cheeks hurting under her mask from trying to smile so much. “And thank you.”

“Looking forward to it Ashley,” Said the planner, shooting her a wink. They were cute. Ashley escaped, grinning, into the slowly darkening streets. She pulled out her hand-crank flashlight, but she didn’t need it yet. She knew the streets.

She didn’t go to her new home, the second story apartment off of main street, its green paint finally fresh rather than flaking after they finally got around to some aesthetic work three years ago.

Instead she went to her old one. The one she’d lived in all through high school. The one that had been her home before the burnout. Where she had lived with her parents before they were gone. Before so many people were gone, and the power with them.

She’d had a lot of time to come to terms with it. A lot of days spent moving in and out of that old home since. She still felt wistful, approaching, but it wasn’t the raw ache of loss it had been. Especially when she saw the flashlights around the open garage and heard the murmur of voices.

“Dude,” Called Don, the first to see her. “She’s here!”

Saanvi must have set up her drums, because a drumroll started as Ashley approached. It ended with a symbol crash just before Don caught her in a tight, squeezing hug. His left hand was flat against her back, his ruined right pressed against her other shoulder blade still curled.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

Ashley returned the hug fiercely as the crickets and cicadas sang around them, joined by the frogs in the creek near her old home and the distant howls of coyotes.

“We’re gunna have to do some dusting on this gear,” Saanvi warned. “Not to mention pulling out our old outfits.”

“Ooh, I’m gunna have to figure out what to do with the other leg on my old leather pants,” Melvin sighed, gesturing down to his missing right leg. “Like, is it more metal to tie it up or to slice it off? Probably slicing, right?”

“That’s usually pretty metal,” Ashley agreed. “Slicing.”

She didn’t have to worry about changing her old garb. She remembered, vaguely, putting her look together back in the day. Draping on black and patterns in careful tatters. Draping dingy silver and bronze around her body.

She remembered the careful makeup routine. The dark lipstick. She remembered loving her lips. She spared a moment, touching a fingertip to the mask she wore over her ruined lower face. She pulled it down with a slow breath, allowing her bared teeth and the burned, curled remains of her lips to show. She was going to have to to sing. Couldn’t do that behind a mask. She straightened up and faced her band.

They smiled back. Don swung his guitar strap over his shoulder, his curled hand still just barely good enough for him to strum with his thumb. Melvin leaned back in his chair, his one leg splayed out before him and his fingers already picking out notes on his electric bass. Saanvi twirled her drumsticks, her empty eye sockets heavily shadowed in the scant light of their crack-charged flashlights.

“Alright,” Ashley said, grinning as much as her burned face would let her. “Let’s rock their worlds.”