#this was half stream of consciousness and half fuck it we ball

[nbbutchsub]

my cunt is so wet. im imagining us having a smoke before we go inside, you making sure im high enough to be easy to over power. when we get inside you immediately make me strip and then push me to my knees. you slap my face and tell me to open me mouth like a good cock whore. you roughly rape my mouth. before you come you make me lay on the bed with my head hanging over the edge and abuse my throat even hard. im trapped, balls slapping my face, cock gagging me. you see my eyes go empty as i drop into sub space and you know i would do anything. so you ask if you can tie me up- not something i have said yes to before. im so cock drunk and brainless i enthusiastically nod despite the cock ramming my throat.

now you stop fucking my face. you hold your cock as far in as it will go while you tie me so my legs are wide open. you take your cock out of my mouth, slap my face and call me a dumb whore. i realise why when you call out "hey, everyone come in". 4 men all walk in. one has a powerful looking vibrator, one a set of different sized dildos. one has a pen, and the last has a box of pegs.

the one with the pen starts first. he write all over my body. cumdump. rape bait. whore. worthless slut. rape toy. he twists and pulls at my nipples and then slaps my tits and face. once he is done. the guy with the vibrator turns it on high and presses it hard again my clit making me scream out in pain. my screams dont stop until you slap my face, then they quiet to a whimper.

the man with the dildos picks the smallest and lubes it up. with one push he starts raping my asshole. as the brutal attack on my clit and ass continue the last man with the pegs approaches. suddenly my fate dawns on me. one by one he places the pegs around my tits, massaging the area before clamping it.

whilst all this is happening you have returned to raping my throat. saliva and tears stream down my face.

the man with the dildos slowly increases the size, stretching my ass to the point that raping it wouldn’t casue actual harm but it would still hurt. he leaves the dildo in, deciding he wants to have some fun before he cums in me. he removes the belt from his jeans and folds it in half. before i work out what is happening he is beating my cunt with his belt. each hit makes my eyes water.

by now all the men have their cocks out. one in my cunt, one in my ass and one in each hand. i've not noticed but there was a 5th man in the corner filming the whole thing. currently he is filming my face as i loose consciousness gagging around your cock.

you all laugh at me and rape me hard when you notice that im unconscious.

when i wake up im in the same position. only this time ive got a huge dildo gag in, dildos in both holes and a vibrator on my clit. at my eye level is a laptop showing the footage of you abusing my body. on the video little comments keep popping up. a flood of arousal goes to my cunt as i realise this a recording of the livestream of my gang rape.

i start to gag on the dildo gag. that combined with the degrading, abusive treatment makes me cum all over the dildos.

you hear me trying to shout around the dildo so you walk into the room and pull my hair to make me look you in the eye. you spit on my face and tell me that this is my life now. ill always be tied to this bed. the only time the dildos willl come out are when cock is going in. im now your free use cum dump. you can do with me as you please.

you pump a load into my sore looking cunt and put a tally mark on my thigh. on your way out you prop the door open and i catch a glimpse of the huge crowd of men outside.

[ruthiesrambles2]

Ruthie rewatches: Season One, Episode One (part one)

Here have a stream of consciousness as I watch. Had so much to say that I'm cutting off halfway through the episode because it's taken me an hour and a half to get this far.

Ohhh the animated intro! I forgot about this. I remember first watching this and being enthralled. Fucking love the art and the transition to live action.

Baby Miles… Oh. This scene fucks me up more every time. His dad and sibling being left outside??? Let me tell you that has killed me now we have K2.

Yeah yeah Layton is already boring sorry. Do love the face he pulls at Grey though. Feel kinda bad for Grey, there's zero redemption for him he's just straight up bad guy.

Can I take a minute to appreciate the intro? I'm in love with the blueprints and I wish there existed a full version (not that that would work given the amount of disbelief we have to suspend).

What is the thing on the engine room door? I keep trying to work it out, it doesn't look like a standard W or anything.

Aw yiss boss lady emerges!

We get a shot of a jumble of paperwork on a messy desk and then the booth itself is neat and spotless. 100% the desk is Melanie's and no one can touch it but Ruth cleans the booth.

Also there's a Dell laptop. Strange mix of tech on this show and we see surprisingly little of it.

Perfectly central and still shot of Melanie in uniform. The crisps lines. The colouring. Yes.

Melanie has sensible nails. Only one possible explanation for that, clearly. Gay.

Our introduction to the train… classroom is cool but confusing. It seems the number of children is quite small and a broad age range but all the work and art seems to be primary level. There must be at least one more classroom. Third class. Tail. Watch the colour seep out of shots.

Something about measuring days since departure. I love it but surely that would be so depressing. Every day it's "everyone you know in the world died x days ago. Praise Wilford"

The balls on Josie. The swagger on Till!!

So we've got Josie the vet being the closest thing we have to a doctor in the Tail but here's an extra who clearly knows how to use a stethoscope. We won't ever see her again.

Strong Boy my lad!! What a character. Not sure who's hairbrained idea it was to give up rations for one (1) super-soldier (mediocre grade). Probably Layton's.

Why isn't Miles as bedraggled as the other kids? He's not only clean but smiley too. Layton proximity powers.

Pike with hair! I have no love for the character but really starting to appreciate Steven Ogg's acting.

13 Arms. How many nightmares did Ruth have that night huh. The sound of shattering frozen flesh rings a little like champagne glasses, doesn't it? How many times did she relive that day setting up for First Class dinners. Forgive me I am 8 minutes in and already daydreaming about her.

Mama Grande… Miss you babe.

"I don't want you on the front line tomorrow" uhh I'm sorry Mr Layton but who do you think you are. Leave Miss Balls of Steel Josie alone she doesn't need your patronising bullshit. Oh wait, kiss/cuddle/domesticity. Eh. Let you off then.

OHHHH TIME FOR THE BEST SCENE IN THE WHOLE SERIES. MAMA GRANDE SING IT. This scene is honestly breathtaking. The song, the prayer, the weapons, the togetherness.

"Wilford's train is a fortress to class" excellent line is excellent.

God the faces shown here. Knowing they're going to be ripped from us. Not all at once but. Most of them.

Melanie at the steps to first class dining… they mirror this shot in s3 and it's such a great call back.

How does she walk in those heels? My feet hurt just looking at them.

Iguana time!

Incredible variety of food at breakfast time considering the delicate balance of the food system.

Gay dad time!

Throwing in Melanie speaking Cantonese to remind us she's SuperSmartGeniusGirl

First shot of my most specialist blorbo!! She looking so fine.

Look how in step Melanie and Ruth are. The mirroring! The eyelash flutter. Gay.

Also obsessed with the difference in cut between their uniforms. I wonder if the rest of hospitality have their uniforms tailored to body shape too.

Lilah, baby, they invented the sauna. They can be nakey and sing songs. It's OK. Bodies are natural.

LJ with the sunglasses. Girl who packs sunglasses to get on a train travelling forever through a perpetual winter wasteland? Iconic. Her fashion is so baby gay here. Bi LJ is basically canon right?

Why does Melanie turn to look at Ruth like she's staring into her soul. Gay.

OH NO. Eye flutters to Lilah now. Super gay.

TRACK TALK. For every ounce that @train-pirate hates it I double down on loving it. I'm keeping it. I'm going to say it to you all the time. Track talk.

Arm touch arm touch! Gay.

Walking brushing against each other! Gayer.

Fixed stare open mouth. Even gayer.

Eye lash flutters. Getting gayer.

"Excuse to wear your fur" + tongue click. GAYEST. WE HAVE REACHED PEAK GAY. THESE BITCHES FUCKING IT'S CONFIRMED.

Back to the Tail. Has anyone checked Pike can actually count? The man's just throwing up fingers he has no idea. Also look buddy. It's the woman you're gonna bang once and die for. Started from the bottom didn't ya.

Alison has confirmed it's a faux fur. So I can have a clear conscience about the way I'm looking at Ruth in it, right? ✨Respectfully✨

Alison my beloved. Pick an accent. I love it.

Tristan! Baby.

Ruth does not have the gay nails. Pillow princess.

I know we get this decontamination scene to see Layton dehumanised but they are not consistent with it at all. The jackboots and brakeman have no infectious disease control protocols so what's the point?

The subtrain seems set up for engineering/maintenance purposes but they talk about it later like whole swathes of people use it. Do you think it was designed like that or did people start using it as a shortcut after departure and Melanie couldn't stop it?

Okay I've gotta give it to DD his acting of a hungry man facing his favourite food is really great. I don't understand grilled cheese and tomato soup though. Shit tier food combination.

Okay so there's been debate about how Osweiller came to be a Brakeman and the consensus is he joined W security before the freeze. But the way Roche phrases it here "most of us were Wilford security. Some were… soccer players?" makes it very much seem he wasn't. Os is smart and resourceful but I so wanna know how he got in.

Ohhhhh Miles calling Josie mom. Crush my heart why don't you.

"yall got some serious problems up in here" Sassboy Layton. And the face he gives Osweiller. Okay DD you're winning again.

"What about his… Um…dick?" spoken like a true lesbian Bess Till.

Footie jokes. Just bantz innit.

"smooth relations". Girl. You're so awkward.

Melanie's eye contact is so strong. Forceful even. Unusually long. Autie vibes for sure, that's learned behaviour and masking and overthinking. Just doesn't look as creepy when you have a face like JC's.

… How does never-left-the-Tail Layton know what the Drawers are? He just rolls with it.

To be continued…

[arachine]

do yk what i would give to have mike slender fingers wheeler finger me?? i would give my life. like i will hand it over to whoever to make it possible because it’s not even a want at this point it is a need.

no bc nonnie you get me. all i think about are his fingers…and how’d they fill you up so good ;((

mike is 18! + vaginal fingering, semi-public (at work), a messy stream of consciousness that i started writing out half asleep

not to go on a tangent but i hc that mike would’ve hated them growing up. i mean, it’s no secret that he was bullied, and we all know one of the things that the bullies made fun of him for was how freakishly pale and bony he was. it isn’t until the summer before college, when he starts to think differently of them.

he’d taken up a job to help save money for school, and who does he end up working alongside? none other than you, the former queen bee of hawkin’s high.

the two of you didn’t really talk in high school, something about cliques and hanging out with the opposite crowds…or something like that—but you knew of each other—well, he knew of you. and while he’d never spoken to you directly, he had heard enough stories from the nerds and outcasts about how…mean you could be.

and that’s how he came to the presumption that summer was gonna be absolute hell with you. endless bickering. endless insults thrown back and forth, followed by mean scowls and scolds…but there was none of that, surprisingly.

to his dismay, you were all smiles, and sunshine. a giggly thing that liked to talk, and crack jokes, and throw out random compliments. it was unnerving, weird. because here he was, with this made up version of you in his head, this mean-spirited, bitchy, bratty version of you that…didn’t even exist! it was just hatred fueled by word of mouth, and years of watching you from the sidelines but never talking to you. he thinks he’s the biggest idiot, and rightfully so.

the first thing you said to him on the job was how pretty his hands were. it was a simple comment, just something said in passing as he stocked the shelves, but it stuck with him. and at first he was confused because…they’d always been something he’d hated about himself? he thinks they’re just hands, just bony, pale things, but you were insistent—adamant, and everyday you’d never fail to let him know how much you liked them whenever you were in his presence.

and after some time of knowing you, somehow it’d gone from ‘your hands are so pretty’ to ‘i want them inside of me’ and he can’t fucking believe it, the poor boy doesn’t know what to do or how to respond.

but he let’s you use him. let’s you guide his hands to your pretty little cunt and fuck yourself with ‘em. and god, are you a sight to see. the faces you’re making? the things you’re babbling to him as you thrust his fingers in and out of your folds? are quite literally wilder than anything he’s ever made up in that head of his.

“been dreamin’ about this for so—shit—long, mikey,” your voice is breathy and straggled, words spilling from your lips like smooth honey. “always liked your fingers, think they’re so pretty.” your honest confession sends a flood of warmth straight to his cheeks, and he prays to a higher power that you’re so busied with his fingers, that you don’t notice.

“yeah?” his voice is soft, uncertain, like he can’t believe a girl like you would ever dream of wanting a guy like him. you were from different worlds, different universes. it didn’t make sense. but then again, none of this did. here you were—the two of you—in the inventory room, with his hands stuffed down your panties and, fuck, he was so hard.

he wanted so badly to touch himself, wanted to assuage the dull ache that he was feeling in his balls and his throbbing cock, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you—couldn’t take his hands off of you. self-restraint was something foreign to mike. he’d always been one to take what he wanted, do what he wanted, and say what he wanted, but right now? right now he’d just watch, and if that meant creaming his pants, then so be it.

“mhm, ‘m always thinking about you,” you start, “had my eye on you since sophomore year but you paid me no mind. did everything i could to get your—your attention.”

“really? but you were popular, i didn’t think you noticed me,” he unconsciously syncopates the last word with a thrust, and this makes you preen, all short and breathy.

for a second his brain stops functioning, and he has to literally force the gears in his head to start turning, to move so he can find the words to speak. he wants to hear that sound again, and again, and—

“mmm, feels s’good. do that again, mikey,” you ask him with those pretty puppy-dog eyes, but he doesn’t exactly know what he did because he didn’t mean to do it. he indulges you anyway, though, even if his approach is hesitated and inexperienced.

“i mean…’m nothing special,” he begins to move, “so what did it for you, what made you fall for the loser?”

“d-don’t be stupid, i tell you everyday. you’re so—shit, pretty.”

his obsidians are trained on your own, fingers moving in and out tantalizingly slowly as he processes this information. sure, you may have made it known on multiple occasions that he had pretty hands or whatever, but he thought you were just fucking around with him? because that’s just the type of dynamic the two of you had established—friends, acquaintances, fuck, amiable associates that joked around to pass time at work?

“you say my hands are pretty, though. never heard you say i’m pretty. do you really think that?” it takes all of your strength to not slap him silly, so instead, you shut him up with a kiss. it’s slow and soft, and the two of you groan into it—he groans because your cunt’s squeezing his fingers, and you groan because you’ve been waiting to do that for so long.

“god, mikey…your fingers are stuffed inside of me and you have the nerve to ask if i think you’re pretty?” you pull away from his face, hands still tugging on his uniform shirt. “let���s make a deal. if you make me cum before our manager gets back, i’ll tell you all the times i tried to get your attention in high school. deal?”

the brunet studies you before answering, “deal.”

[moved2usagiiboo]

Daydreaming

Def; Daydreaming is the stream of consciousness that detaches from current, external tasks when attention drifts to a more personal and internal direction. 

Synonyms; Trance, fantasy, Hallucination

Chifuyu x fem!reader

Minors DNI, thank you.

You were stunning, enticing, gorgeous. You were a angel sent down from heaven with the job of blessing young men's hearts. You shined bright like the rays on a sunny day.

You were his everything and yet you weren't his. As a matter of fact, he barely knew anything about you but you have him wrapped around your delicate finger. He was whipped.

Chifuyu met you one day, when he had been tasked with a mid-day coffee run for him and his co-worker. He walked into the café, the smell of coffee and pastries engulfed his noise, it was a small cat café not too far from where he worked. Nothing more than a five minute walk, Chifuyu heard cats meow and purred as they rubbed against his pants.

He bent down rubbing the head of the nearest cat to him, he lifted the cat up cradling it as he walked towards the menu.

"Hi! Welcome to Neko-Sama, what can I get for you today." You beamed at him from behind the counter with the softest smile. Your voice rung in his ears like a soft melody, your smile made heat rush to his face in an instant.

You had your hair in pigtails with pink and white cat ears, and a frilly maid costume draped over your body. You shuffled your body feeling Chifuyu's eyes look you up and down eyeing your attire.

You were adorable.

You stared at the man with cat like eyes, you catched your eyes with his before turning away and giving an awkward cough to clear the air.

"Wow, Tuba doesn't really like anybody..." You drifted off, "Much less let people hold her, you must be a great guy!"

"Tuba?" He questioned earning a small meow from the ginger cat that was in his arms nuzzling his head on his arm. "O-Oh! Well, I do work with animals, that's probably why." He chuckles softly petting the cat.

"That's amazing, I got this job here to work with animals. I adore cats, they're just so cute." You practically squealed, "Sorry! M'rambling" You looked down with a slight your ears slightly red from embarrassment.

The only thing that ran through Chifuyu's head was how adorable you were. Would it be weird if he asked for your number? You both just met, but he can't help but want to know more about you.

"N-No, no, not at all. Honestly, I thought it was cute..." He says the last part ever so softly, tightening his grip on the cat due to nervousness. The cat bites Chifuyu's hand in response jumping out of his arms, "Oh.. Guess I pissed him off." You both laughed at the cat as you watched him lick himself in spite.

For a split second you both lock eyes, you turn your head down to the iPad on the counter before beaming a smile at him.

"So! What can I get for you today?"

Ever since then Chifuyu has found reasons to make his way to the café. His co-worker caught onto him leaving work to bring back coffee and various snacks, one day he asked him about it.

"I like the coffee." He plainly replied, he would repeat this phrase over and over not only to those who asked about his constant ventures to the café but to convince himself that it wasn't because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face.

Totally not because he hopes that his constant visits would bring upon something. Something more than small talk as you prepared his drink, he convinced himself that he didn't want to be the reason you smile everyday.

You weren't running through his mind, he couldn't be in love with a girl be barely knows.

But the way you blush when he gives you small compliments, it's just too cute to ignore.

Over the course of a few months you and the man got closer, you learn his name and he yours. You were both around the same age, 23, you still being in college working towards your degree and him owning a animal shop.

One day, on a cold winter evening Chifuyu found himself at the café once again. So far he has been to Neko-Sama almost everyday. Naturally, being the animal person he is, he has created a bond with the cats there. Especially Tuna.

Tuna meows the loudest whenever Chifuyu is in the establishment, that's when you begin to prepare his drink. His order changes with the season, as any good barista does, you remember his orders for each season.

Being that it's winter you prepare his drink, a medium peppermint hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. You found it cute how a grown man would order such a cute drink.

"Good evening Chifuyu-san." You smiled placing his drink at his regular table. He takes off his coat setting it down on the seat next to him.

"I told you to drop the formalities, we're the same age Y/n." He sighs, softly thanking you for preparing his drink. He blows the steam away before taking a sip.

"I can't help it, you just seem so much older " You giggle before sitting next to him on the booth couch.

"Should I call you Fuyu' from now on?" You tapped your chin with a hum pretending to think.

"Do what you want, dummy Y/n." He mutters, hoping you're unaware of the burn on the tip of his ears.

Tuna jumped his way onto the seat laying on Chifuyu's coat, his purrs nothing more than a background sound as you and Chifuyu indulge in a conversation.

"And look at this, the new cat is so playful," Chifuyu chuckles pulling his phone out, "Look, she basically destroyed this toy we gave her." He shows you pictures of the cat along with the aftermath of her playtime. You giggle as he swiped through his phone.

This wasn't your fault. You could barely see the screen because of the glare from the lights, you shift your body closer to him. Chifuyu freezes as he feels your clothed breasts push up against him as you stare at his screen unaware of your actions.

"You okay?" You ask staring at his face, cupping it with your hands. His whole body locked up at your touch, his face was bright red with sweat heading down the side of his temple. "You're burning up!" You half screen putting the back of your hand on his forehead, "Are you sick?" You frantically ask while gripping the man's face.

"M'fine.. Just" He trails off, looking at your glistening lips, "Dizzy...."

"Fuyu, you idiot. You need to go home when you don't feel well..." You sighed, "Come on let me walk you home, my shift is over anyways."

Chifuyu waited outside feeling dizzy off of your touch, his head throbbed and his heart pounded. Maybe he was sick.

"Sorry it took so long, Tuna didn't want to go in his cage..." You sigh locking up, you looked at Chifuyu and worry spread across your face. Chifuyu's chest heaved up and down heavily, he looked out of breath as if he ran a marathon.

You quickly take off your scarf and wrapped it around his neck, he softly gasped at the sudden action.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" You lock arms with him and following him as he walked to his apartment. You missed the way his face got brighter as he smelt your scent on the scarf. You said your goodbyes telling him to take medicine and get a good night's rest.

He kicked off his shoes and stripped down on his way to the shower feeling lightheaded, after his shower he took his medicine like you told him to, he wasted no time getting into his bed not before grabbing your scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He ignored the cries of his cat as he tried to drift off to sleep trying to forget the throbbing pain in his head.

ミ❣️That night he couldn't sleep, maybe it was the throbbing pain in his head or the nauseous feeling he'd get everytime he would shift his body.

ミ❣️Or possible it was the fact that everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, your smile, heard your voice, felt your touch.

ミ❣️Your hands were soft, oh so plush.

ミ❣️And your lips, the way they glistened due to the lip gloss you would constantly put on for worry your lips would dry out.

ミ❣️He couldn't forget your whines and pouts when he would call you, "dummy y/n" a nickname you acquired after spraining your ankle slipping while trying to give Tuna a bath.

ミ❣️The way you would stick out your bottom lip, your eyes would shine as if you were about to cry when he had to leave early...

ミ❣️You were adorable, his perfect little angel.

ミ❣️He drifts off daydreaming about every aspect of you that he loves, its a innocent little crush.

ミ❣️He begins to drift off about the way you dress, those pink cat ears that jingle everytime you move. That slutty maid costume that barely covered your ass. Those adorable stripped thigh highs that covered your thighs, pushing up the fat to the uncovered part of your upper thighs.

ミ❣️He nuzzled his flushed face into the scarf engulfing his nose in your sweet scent. It smelt like the fragrance you would constantly wear...

ミ❣️What was it again?

ミ❣️Fuck, he can't think straight trying to remember the name of your perfume makes his head hurt.

ミ❣️But thinking about how you would bend down he would get a full view of your plush cheeks made his cock hurt.

ミ❣️The way you would shake and sway your hips with each step you took.

ミ❣️He isn't in the right headspace, his mind has drifted away from his body. He's long gone, he lost all control of his actions.

ミ❣️Chifuyu is needy, the thoughts go right to his cock. His length twitched with every memory of you.

ミ❣️When did he pull his pants down to his knees?

ミ❣️When did his breath become broken and eratic?

ミ❣️He doesn't know how he ended feeling his dick through his underwear, how he began to fist his dick, all curled up in a ball, trying to release.

ミ❣️His other hand pulling the scarf closer to his nose to take deep inhales.

ミ❣️Chifuyu's voice becomes audible as soft groans leave his mouth.

ミ❣️Nothing more than pre-cum dripped from the tip of his angry cock as he aggressively jerked his hand up and down the length of his shaft, gripping it harder trying to get friction.

ミ❣️He just needed to cum.

ミ❣️It wasn't working. He spat in his hand, rolling into his back. He pr sses his thumb onto his tip. He hissed in pain as a electric jolt shot through his body.

ミ❣️His proud cock standing tall as he moved his hand up and down while simultaneously slightly thrusting his hips upwards. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when it just.. wasn't working.

It wasnt you

ミ❣️Chifuyu pulled his pillow from his head, shifting his position once more, laying back on his side, putting his cock onto the surface of the pillow. He slowly humped his pillow, grinding his dick into the pillow.

ミ❣️He found himself wondering what you were doing right now, if at night you played with yourself.

ミ❣️No, no, not that. He wondered how well you would take him, if you'd scream his name, begging him to go faster, calling him all sorts of names,

ミ❣️Daddy

ミ❣️Master

ミ❣️ They would sound so pretty coming out of your mouth

ミ❣️As he claimed your pussy as his spraying your insides with his cum.

ミ❣️Nah, you were too innocent for that... You were the type of girl to blush when somebody accidentally touches your hand of gives you a compliment.

ミ❣️If anything you would fail to understand why your core was heating up, desperate to feel something inside you but not understanding the meaning.

ミ❣️That's it, you'd come to him crying asking for him to help you feel better.

ミ❣️He groaned at the thought of him placing his hand around your throat while tongue fucking your mouth. You would struggle to kiss back as he roughly explored your mouth with his tongue. Your knees would buckle from the pleasure. He would pick you up, holding the back of your knees, gently grinding his hard cock against your sex.

ミ❣️He would treat you like a princess.

ミ❣️Laying on your back as you hurried to take your soaking panties off, your slick juices leaving a single string that was attached to your panties, proof that you were wetting your undergarments like a dirty slut.

ミ❣️Your face would be red as you shamelessly tell him in the softest tone.

ミ❣️"Want you so bad Fuyu'"

ミ❣️Fuck, his thrusts became more erratic, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on his pillow.

ミ❣️Yeah, you'd call him by his nickname as you begged him to claim you, ruin you.

ミ❣️He imagine him sinking his fingers, he'd start with one not wanting to hurt you. Your tight untouched cunt tightly squeezing his finger. You would already be a moaning mess, Fuyu was talking all your firsts.

ミ❣️Your slightly loosened sex would take in another finger. You would try your best to muffle your slutty moans as he fingers your soaking pussy. You'd cover your mouth with your hand as his finger curled inside of you hitting that spot that made your toes curl and eyes widen.

ミ❣️You'd moan his name, begging him to stop. It felt weird, felt too good, something was coming.

ミ❣️He'd give you your first orgasm with his fingers, you had drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, your face was red. You were already so fucked out on his fingers.

ミ❣️He felt his cock twitch with these thoughts. He mindlessly began to fuck his pillow into the mattress, his body now on top of the pillow as he grinded on top of the pillow.

ミ❣️He'd have you suck on his fingers tasting yourself as he began to eat you out. His tongue slipping in and out of your slit, naughty slurping sounds emitted from the room as he throat fucked you with his digits that were once in your pussy. His nose would occasionally hit your lip causing you to arch your back pushing his tongue deeper inside you.

ミ❣️You love being eaten out huh? Love it when daddy fucks you with his tongue. Such a dirty little thing.

ミ❣️All the dirty things he could think of seeps from his mouth, while eating you out. He'd bring you to another orgasm with ease.

ミ❣️"Y/n, fuck, m'gonna cum" Chifuyu grunted out in a out of breath voice, he felt his cock spurt out his cum into his pillow, yet he wasn't satisfied.

ミ❣️He leaned back onto his shins, his knees pressing into the bed as he lifted the pillow up, slipping his cock into the pillow cover.

ミ❣️He wasn't done yet, your pussy would be twitching, eager to take his cock. You eyes would be begging him to fuck you into the mattress.

ミ❣️"Gonna fuck my princess dumb." He muttered out to nobody as he thrusted upwards into the pillow. His thrusts were shameless and aggressive as he pounded his pillow like a dog in heat.

ミ❣️His moans were loud as he muttered filthy things about you.

ミ❣️He would slip his cock into you, kissing away the tears from your eyes.

ミ❣️His cock was just too big, his dumb baby couldn't take it. The stretch hurt. Daddy made it fit though. Daddy will make you feel so good. Pretty girl.

ミ❣️He'd let you adjust waiting for you to give him the okay, he would start of slow, giving you small thrusts to get you used to the size of him. Deep passionate thrusts that said how much he loved you.

ミ❣️You would have the most beautiful moans and whines, he could listen to them all day. He would kiss you and your body till it bruised.

ミ❣️You'd beg him to fuck you, he would do just that. Slamming his hips into yours causing you to scream out his nickname, one of his hands would be on your thigh squeezing it oh so tight getting a good grip for when he pulls his cock out and slams your bodies into each other, fucking you senseless. While the other kept your mouth busy, occasionally taking his fingers out of your mouth to kiss you deeply bruising your lips with his.

He'd watch your every expression.

ミ❣️"Your pussy was made for me, look how well you're taking it. Doing so good"

ミ❣️Your eyes would cross as your tongue rolled out, you'd pants and beg for him to slow down. You didn't really want that, no, not when he was making you feel this good. The way you would arch your back, grind your hips into his, wrap your arms around his neck and grip his hair as you moaned louder with each thrust told him everything he needed to know.

ミ❣️You wanted more, you're greedy aren't you?

ミ❣️"My pretty little cocksleeve"

ミ❣️Chifuyu felt himself getting closer to his high, but he wanted to cum with you.

ミ❣️No, you weren't here.

ミ❣️His hand would make it to your clit giving it a soft slap before his thumb rubbed it in circles. You'd start cursing because of how good it felt. Telling him you wanted more, how you were about to cum, how much you wanted him to cum in you.

ミ❣️You would adore it, he knows it. You'd be such a cum hungry slut for him, no matter when or where you'd want him to cum in your tight pussy.

ミ❣️"Fuck, fuck— so good, Y/n— yer' pussy so good" Chifuyu cursed out as he imagined you creaming his cock the same time as he slammed his dick in you once more before spraying your insides white with his cum. Your body would shake as you had your final orgasm feeling so full.

ミ❣️"Fuck... Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!" Chifuyu cursed out realizing what he just did, he felt a wave of guilt as he felt his dick go limp after fucking his pillow to the thought of you like a madman.

ミ❣️He rushed into the shower, almost falling off his bed in a panic mode. He tried to wash it off, tried to wash off the sin of moaning your name while he fucked his pillow like some highschool horn dog.

ミ❣️He hoped you'd forgive him, he prayed you would.. You couldn't ever find out what he did, you'd label him as a pervert.

ミ❣️Maybe he was one.

ミ❣️He couldn't look himself in the mirror, too ashamed to face himself.

ミ❣️Chifuyu threw the pillow away before curling back in bed chanting soft apologies to nobody. He'd wrap his body in his blanket nuzzling his face back into your scarf as he drifting off final able to sleep.

ミ❣️The next morning you didn't understand why Chifuyu refused to make eye contact with you...

It was supposed to be a short drabble.... 500 works max 🤧🔫 anywaysssss

@baji-kuns hope you liked it 🙄 #Chifuyu'sAHoe

[itsmaddienotmaddy]

Okay, I took notes throughout the game like a nerd and this recap is more or less my stream of consciousness all game. Per usual, it’s a mess.

USWNT v NEW ZEALAND

Alyssa - her hair looks great!! She hasn’t had to do much and the broadcast lingered a shot on her running back to the goal. And her ponytail was gorgeous. Her organization on corners… I MISSED her yelling. I’m so glad she’s back.

Becky - her decision making is so unmatched. Watching how she receives a ball, brings it down and waits until a defender steps to a certain point before passing. It’s amazing. Oh GOD DAMN her header off the Kristie corner. Understandable sub due to limited minutes, but there is a drop in communication in the back line when she’s not out there.

Alana - really good positioning on defensive crosses to get the clear. Some iffy passes. Kind of gifted NZ opportunity. She needs more caps to get fully comfortable I think. She’s doing GREAT, but if I got nervous at all with our defense today, unfortunately it was with her.

Fox - the little header flick through the NZ defense to Soph was so GOOD. Some nice 1v1 battles. Less awesome on ball carrying today, but the 1v1. Totally where she shined.

Tierna - nearly a one for one sub with Becky. Not AS big of a communicator. She’s getting there. Just out there doing her darn JOB

Sofia - cross into Midge was 🔥. The much needed diagonal ball that dropped at the six instead of floating to the keeper. Really good coming up Into the attack. Continuing solid crossing. The arch, the curl, the power on that assist was chefs kiss. EXCELLENT header clearance on that NZ cross. Second half was quieter than the first (aside from her gorg assist duh.) Made a point for more starts and more minutes.

Krispy - seems even more composed. Really good. She is so focused and at another level. I mean. Still some turnovers. Idk what the outlet would be though. Offsides 😂 god bless Kristie Mewis set pieces. This was def something we were missing on Thursday. Excellent to get a full ninety, kept the energy up and was not shy challenging balls, trying runs, and looking for the passes. Her one touch passing was really good.

Andi - on the search for header goals early on. Love that from her. Really solid as holding mid. I know I can’t live in the past. But. Holy fuck why was she not on that Olympics roster?? Her physical presence and distribution are so important. Organization in mid did drop when she came off.

Sanchez - definitely working on a calmer presence. Good physicality and work on the ball. Her confidence to DO the moves. I love it. Her with Soph on the left is so mean lol. My god her flick to the offsides Kristie goal. If she can continue this kind of play with teams of all caliber… her and ROSE on at the same time. Her and Kristie linking up is SOMETHING. Now what she does need to do is cut in sooner on the great runs she’s getting from Kristie’s passes. Overall, best game from her so far. Really good.

Soph - the strike that led to the own goal, hell YEAH. Her footwork is noticeable and excellent. She’s got that ball glued to her feet. My POTM for the first half. And her defensive work too??? Can’t wait for full nineties with her.

Cat - if she doesn’t get a goal soon, she’s so CLOSE. Her off ball work has been so intelligent but her finishing hasn’t been there yet. Fucking goal post.

Midge - the header to own goal!! Big credit to Midge’s positioning! Her ability to break and her speed with the ball, so good. (With a better team than NZ, she’d need to keep the ball closer cuz that shit normally wouldn’t fly.) Now, her sideline run that led to the third own goal? THAT. That was excellent. She had Kristie as an option but knew she had the upper hand on Ali Riley with speed and CAPITALIZED. She is the driving force of a lot of our offensive pushes. A complete menace to the NZ back line. Really good tournament for her thus far.

Hatch - I MEAN. Broke the dry spell. Sofia went her a ball on a PLATTER and she redirected it perfectly. She doesn’t seem like a consistent presence when she’s out there. But she’s HUNGRY for goals and she’s been getting them. Part of it is def positioning. She makes sure she’s getting her body in front of the defender. Such a good header win to get that up to Mal for the goal. Sporadic involvement, but good involvement when she’s in it!

Trin - can’t believe she almost died right away coming on. Should have shot that one with her right foot. Goodness she is paying for putting her body on the line. Would really be tough to see her get injured before the season starts. Hate that. A lot.

Jae - that story about her and the #10 was v funny. She’s going to be fun. There was nothing huge of note, but a good showing. She came in at a time when things got a little sloppy with all the changes.

Lynn - I wanted more for her. The right side was the sleepy side second half. The run down the end line in stoppage and those moves, there’s LYNNIE. Where was that all second half???

Mal - midfield?? Okay!! The ball from Hatch that led to her run, before she got ripped down, that was promising!! and THERE she is on that goal. Classic Mal. Great speed, great control, great placement. And the confidence she gains once she starts doing well. YEs.

A very fun game to watch. This young group is starting click more. But we do still need our veteran puzzle pieces to hold things together. Becky on the back line SPECIFICALLY. Also. Legit finishing. Please. I respect own goal but I wish she wasn’t so regularly rostered.

ONE MORE GAAAAAME.

[zimms]

an olliewicks flower shop au to soothe the soul! this is somewhat based on mine and @tingo-tango’s tags on this post. 

fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels

Ollie’s wrist-deep in a pot of soil, sweat rolling down his cheeks and sunlight streaming through the windows of Faber’s Flowers, when the shop’s bell rings and a new customer stumbles through the door. Ollie frowns slightly and hastily wipes the beads of sweat off his chin with the corner of his shirt, before plastering on his best customer service smile to greet whoever needs flowers at 7:30 am on a Tuesday morning. He mentally catalogues the possibilities; maybe they’ve forgotten their spouse’s birthday? Or maybe it’s a gift for someone at work? Maybe it’s an apology present because they accidentally cycled into a fruit stall and ruined a fresh batch of melons? 

(Okay, maybe not, but it would be a refreshing change in the cycle of constant businessmen grovelling for their partner’s forgiveness)

Ollie shakes himself from his thoughts and grins across the counter at the customer, who’s sporting a baseball cap and a t-shirt that sits just right across his broad shoulders. Ollie’s eyes track down the guy’s biceps which are a tad too big for the sleeves. Ollie consciously shut his mouth to stop himself from gaping; this guy was hot. As Ollie’s gaze roams across the customer’s face to meet his eyes, he realises three things. Number one is that he definitely shouldn’t be ogling a customer like he’s a piece of meat. Number two is that he hasn’t said anything to this guy yet. Number three is that at least a minute of awkward silence and staring has passed since the customer entered the shop. 

Ollie rips his eyes away from the customer’s face to stare at a spot slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hi! What can I help you with today?”

The guy shifts on the balls of his feet, scanning the shelves of bouquets and individual flowers. “Erm, I’m looking for a bouquet of flowers for my mom?” His voice raises at the end of his sentence, which is kind of cute, if Ollie does say so. He rubs the back of his neck and his checks flush pink. “I kinda need to apologise to her.”

Ah, a classic apology scenario. Got it. 

“What’s the apology for?” Ollie asks as he turns to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands. “Not that you have to tell me that is; it just might help as we make the bouquet.” He unravels the roll of tissue paper and cuts off a square to package the flowers in. 

Hot Guy winces. “Ah,” he says, “I kinda got into a fight in front of her the other night. She was not happy to say the least, so I figured I might as well get her some flowers to apologise for it.” 

“Cool, cool.” Ollie grins at him. “What kinda flowers do you want for her?” He gestured to the whole shop, where various buckets of flowers lined the walls, each displaying a different species. “We can get her just a plain old bunch that’s all just the same type of flower, or we could mix and match, create a nice piece of artwork that she’ll admire rather than a bunch that’s boring and all the same.”

Hot Guy’s eyes flick up from the counter and meet Ollie’s own, moving slowly up his body. If Ollie was feeling particularly optimistic, he’d say the guy was checking him out, but he pushes that thought to the corner of his mind because he’s made way too many faux-pas in the past by asking out guys that have come into the shop just for all of them to be straight. Hot Guy clears his throat. “Yeah, a mixture sounds good. I know her favourite flowers are hyacinths if that helps?”

“That’s perfect.” Ollie shoots him the most reassuring smile he can think of, eyes softening. He grabs the bucket of blue hyacinths that sit behind him. “These alright?” 

“Yeah, those are great,” Hot Guy says a little hoarsely, squinting at Ollie’s name tag, “Ollie.” Something settles in Hot Guy’s voice and he seems a bit more comfortable. 

“So, why'd you get into a fight in front of your mom?” Ollie reaches for the bucket of Narcissus behind him and waves a bunch at Hot Guy for affirmation. He nods in return. “Doesn’t seem like the best idea to me-” Ollie trails off, hoping that Hot Guy might get the hint and finally introduce himself. 

“Oh, uh, Pacer.” He coughs and the remaining tension leaks out of his posture. “Nah, a guy said something about Ma, and you know, I had to rush to defend her like the rash idiot I am.” 

Ollie laughs. “At least, it’s one of the more noble reasons to get into a fight. There’s a bit more chance of forgiveness, then.”

Pacer nods and his gaze wanders away from where Ollie is deftly making the bouquet to settle on the purple Clematis. 

“You like them?” Ollie makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hands and Pacer passes the bucket over to him. Their hands briefly brush each other during the exchange and Ollie does everything in his power to ignore the jolt that goes through him at that brief skin to skin contact. “You’ve got a good eye; I was just about to grab them myself.”

“Yeah, my mom loves blue and yello-” Pacer cuts himself off with a sneeze. “Also, aren’t they the colours of the local hockey team around here? The Falcons?” Although he has a completely clueless tone to his voice, Pacer is studying Ollie’s reaction as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe. 

“Yeah, the Falcs! I only get to see them every so often, but they’re great,” Ollie says, doing his level best to ignore Pacer’s sudden intensity. “I was actually on the same team as Jack Zimmermann in college, which was pretty cool.”

“Really?” Pacer’s enigmatic expression becomes even more indecipherable. “That is pretty cool.” He looks slightly over his shoulder towards the street before meeting Ollie’s eyes and flashing a genuine smile at him. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself, you know.”

Ollie tries to convince himself that the bubble of excitement that rushes through him is because Pacer is such a good conversationalist and not for any other reason, like the fact that they have a couple of things in common, or that Pacer is one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen. 

(He fails.)

_X_

Pacer leaves about forty minutes later, with a bouquet and handwritten note in hand and a smile fixed firmly on his face. When Ollie goes to scrub down the counter and start repotting the plant he’d abandoned when Pacer had arrived, he spots a scrap of paper that definitely hadn’t been there before. The note is pretty cute; it’s a string of numbers and a smiley face, accompanied by a couple of lines from Pacer.

Would you like to go I would have asked you out earlier, but my tea friend always says it’s bad form to hit on workers whilst they’re on shift. Anyway, here’s my number if you want to go out some time? Call m Don’t worry if you don’t though!

- Pacer 

Ollie grins as he opens up his phone to add the number to his contacts, but pauses as he sees a Google Alert come through that he’s set up for the Falcs. The text reads, Providence Falconers acquire forward Pacer Wicks from Colorado Avalanche in exchange for a second round pick in the 2022 NHL Draft, and immediately underneath the caption, Pacer’s smiling face stares out at him. 

Pacer’s voice echoes in his mind. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”

Played a bit of hockey himself? Ollie cannot believe this guy. He plays in the fucking NHL and all he says is “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.” 

However, Ollie thinks as he opens up the article to see a picture of a bruised Pacer from his last game with the Avs, it would explain why he needed to apologise for fighting in front of his mom. 

_X_

Now that Ollie is aware of Pacer Wicks’ existence, he seems to follow him everywhere. Well, not Pacer exactly, but his name. 

It begins, like many things, at the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” the cashier asks, as she’s scanning his groceries two days after Pacer first came into the florist’s. “Are you that hockey player? Pacer Wicks?” 

Ollie furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that him and Pacer look that similar, but then again, Pacer’s only been in Providence a couple of days, so people don’t exactly know what he looks like yet. “No, sorry.”

The cashier purses her lips, taking a moment to study him again before ringing him up. “Huh, sorry! You guys just look really alike is all.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ollie gathers up his groceries. “These things happen sometimes.”

(He almost texts Pacer to tell him about it, but, as Ollie looks at the clock on his phone, he realises that Pacer probably isn’t going to want to receive a message about how someone thought they looked similar mid-way through his game against the Pens.

Also, he’d have to wish him luck and honestly, as much as Ollie loves the Falcs, he wouldn’t wish them too much luck against his hometown team.)

_X_

ollie

hey! i’ve finished off that other apology bouquet for your ma!

let me know when you want to swing by and pick it up!

also i was watching the game tonight; do you need me to make up another identical one for your ma, or do you wanna come into the shop to choose this one?

pacer

thanks ol! i’ll probably swing by to pick it up tomorrow and then help make the next one at the same time?

ollie

sounds like a plan!!

_X_

When he said these things happen sometimes to that cashier in the grocery store, he didn’t expect them to happen all the goddamn time. Be it at his favourite café, on the street, or on the commuter rail, someone always, always, asks if he’s Pacer Wicks. 

_X_

ollie

oof that hit from eriksen looks like it’s gonna leave a mark

pacer

yeah, half my face is swollen

ollie

yikes

pacer

i assume we’re still on for dinner in a couple of days right?

even if my stunning visage has been marred by the fists of a schooner

ollie

that was a very weird way of putting it

but yeah, i still wanna go out with you even if your face looks like a dodgeball

_X_

A girl taps him on the shoulder at Bitty’s Bites downtown. “Excuse me, are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie smiles sheepishly at her, brandishing his coffee cup with a scrawled Oily on it as if it might keep the Pacer Wicks fans away. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong dude.”

He hurries out of there as quickly as his legs can take him after that, hands fumbling for his phone so that he can text Pacer about it.

ollie

jdshjkdsjh a girl just asked if i was you

pacer

oh?

ollie

yeah, i don’t really know why so many people ask if i’m you

especially as they usually ask when you’re on a roadie??

so i don’t get why they know who you are without knowing the falcs’ schedules

pacer

maybe they’re a fan of my dashing good looks rather than my hockey?

isn’t that why you agreed to go out with me after all?

Ollie grins to himself before sending back three words.

don’t push it

_X_

He’s less generous to the guy on the commuter rail, but in fairness that’s mainly because he stole the last seat just before Ollie could get there and it’s 6:30 in the morning. 

“Hey, aren’t you that hockey pl-?”

Ollie barely looks up from his phone before cutting him off with a sharp “No.”

_X_

Today, someone even asks him at the flower shop.

“No,” he says, heaving the deepest sigh he can whilst still remaining in customer service mode, “I think Pacer Wicks might have other things to do on a Saturday afternoon than work the till at a flower shop.” He shuts the cash drawer on the register with a bang and hands the customer their change and bouquet as quickly as he can. “Thank you for shopping with us! Enjoy your day!” 

He collapses back onto the wooden stool that he keeps behind the counter, taking a breather for approximately five seconds before a laugh echoes through the shop. Ollie jumps half a foot in the air before locating Pacer, who’s stood in the corner of the shop inspecting a piece of sea holly. 

He’s dressed up pretty nicely considering hockey players’ notoriously bad fashion sense, wearing a button-up, a nice pair of jeans that do all the right things for his hockey butt, and his ever-present baseball cap, but this time, unlike his first visit to the shop, it’s sat backwards on his head. He spins around to face the back of the shop, grinning his face off. “I’m impressed by the fact that she asked you that whilst I was standing in the shop and she still didn’t notice me.” He laughs, smirking across at Ollie. “Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, some people are surprisingly oblivious sometimes,” he says, “but also, I don’t look that much like you?” He pauses, trying to work out what Pacer’s face means. He places his hands on his hips and jokingly rounds on Pacer. “Do I?” 

Pacer chuckles, taking a few steps closer so that he’s leaning against the counter. “Not that much, but would it be so bad if you looked like me?” A mock-wounded expression plays across his features as he presses his hand to his chest. 

Ollie takes off his apron and hangs it up behind the counter. “Nope, because you are extremely hot.” He threads his fingers through the hockey player’s belt loops to pull him closer, feeling emboldened by Pacer’s flirting. “And if that means that people are inadvertently calling me hot whilst asking if I’m you?” He shrugs. “I can live with it.”

Pacer has to lower his gaze to meet Ollie’s eyes, the two inch height difference between them clearly obvious, even if Ollie is six foot, thank you very much. “You were right about something though,” Pacer murmurs, “I do have better things to do than stand in a flower shop on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Like what?” Ollie raises an eyebrow.

Pacer smiles softly down at him, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers with Ollie’s. “Like taking the cute florist that works there on a date for starters.” Pacer starts to move them towards the shop’s entrance. “There’s this lit-” He sneezes abruptly.

Ollie tilts Pacer’s head downwards. “That’s like the fourth time you’ve sneezed in the shop.” He rubs his thumb over his cheek, frowning when he sees that Pacer’s eyes are slightly red. “Are you okay?”

Pacer waves him off. “Yeah, it’s fine; my antihistamines just wore off.”

His-? Ollie furrows his eyebrows before leading his date out of the shop. “Pacer, are you allergic to flowers?” 

“No?” Pacer’s sheepish and slightly bunged up reply says everything that Ollie needs to know.

“Fuck, Pace, why have you been coming to the shop so much if you’re allergic? Surely you don’t like the aesthetics of flowers that much that you need to torture your sinuses every spare minute of the day.” Ollie pinches the bridge of his nose, voice full of exasperation.

Pacer holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defence, the first few times were because I did need to buy Ma flowers, but I didn’t keep coming back because the flowers were pretty.” He pulls Ollie close and frames his face with his hands. “I came back because the florist was.”

_X_

The final time Ollie is mistaken for Pacer is five years later as he’s heading towards the arena for Pacer’s final game of the season. In fairness, dressed in a Wicks jersey and a Falcs snapback, he probably looks more like Pacer now than he has at any time since he first got mistaken for him in the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” A teenager taps him on the shoulder, their arm slung around a friend. “Are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie grins at the kid. “Nope,” he says, trying not to take too much joy in the hope fading from the fan’s eyes before he drops the bombshell, “I am his husband though.”

“Really?” The teenager’s eyes light up. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Ollie holds up his phone screen to show the kid a photo of Pacer kissing his cheek, just so that they know he’s not lying. “D’you wanna meet him after the game?” He smirks at them. “After all, I do know a guy.”

[teacup-crow]

Shameless

It's the final @zombiesmake session for June! I enjoyed these so much, can't wait for the next ones! This is based on prompt 1 (Shameless by Tyler Glenn) and prompt 3 (a jar of paintbrushes)

Spoilers for S3M23. Simon and Amelia shenanigans from some time in mid-S3. CW for slightly NFSWish jokes/themes and nudity

Amelia makes Simon deeply uncomfortable.

There. He’s managed to admit it to himself. The woman perhaps has the most unnerving manner of anybody he’s ever met, and he’s met a lot of unnerving people. He can’t, try as he might, manage to properly piss her off, and he can bring almost anyone to apoplectic anger when he wants to. It’s by far the least trustworthy thing about her.

Of course, she gets short-tempered when he puts off showering or stops seeing the point of getting up in the morning, and has been known to take extreme action just to rouse him when the smell of his socks becomes unbearably cloying. His gran used to have similar ideas about projectiles or a bucket of cold water to the face whenever he was late for school, so it usually isn’t too difficult to flip her off and flip his pillow the other way up.

But this. This is something else. A step too far.

“Amelia! For God’s sake, put your bloody clothes on!”

“You’re not even a teensy bit interested?” Amelia raises an eyebrow, a hand on one very bare hip, another cupping a breast. Simon blinks the crust of sleep from his eyelashes. He’s long stopped bothering with the mask around her.

“Jesus Christ, is this an attempt to seduce me? Because I’m really not interested in you like-“

Amelia throws her head back in a sweep of platinum hair and laughs in ringing peals. “Seduce you? Seduce… you?! Simon, bless you, sweetie, no offence, but I can do better than a brooding misery guts with half a face.”

“I’ll have you know I used to be a catch,” Simon manages crossly, pulling his blanket self-consciously over the remainder of his hands. “And the face is regrowing.”

“I know. I heard,” Amelia replies. “You were yelling blue murder last night until I chloroformed you.”

“What the Hell!”

“What? You were bringing on a migraine!” She moves her hand from her hip to her temple and massages it, her face pained.

“You chloroformed me?!” Once again, he’s shouting while she remains calm. He has no idea how she does it.

“I’m no good with a migraine! Also, you were screaming ‘oh please someone, someone make it stop, Mother Mary save me, help me, it burns’, blah blah blah. I thought you’d be grateful.” Then, more brightly, she adds. “You’re looking vaguely less dead today, though!”

“Whoopee. Now fuck off and get dressed.” He rolls over, trying to avoid the glare of the daylight streaming in through thin curtains. This apartment is their third hiding spot since they took the boat, and in his opinion, it isn’t nearly dark enough.

“No, you’re awake, you’re getting up, you’re starting the day and allowing me to do you a favour.”

“What do you want, Amy?”

“I thought, as we’ve scheduled a day off for you to recover, I’ve no plans in the works, we can get to know one another. Bond. Build our professional relationship.”

“This is not a professional relationship. You are not wearing knickers.”

“I’ve heard you used to wander round Abel Township shirtless all the time.”

“Firstly, where the hell did you hear that? Secondly, I’m a bloke. It’s… it’s different.”

She smirks, looking him up and down. “You’re what, thirty? And still such a good little Catholic boy. It’s rather cute.”

“I’m an agnostic who would prefer some common decency in his very, very small living space.”

“Oh no, I think you talk a big game, but you, Simon Lauchlan, are a prude.”

“I am not a prude!” Simon growls. “I just don’t want to see you naked after spending a night attempting to regrow my flesh with experimental drugs! Is that really so much to ask?”

“You can always get up and move if you don’t want to have to look at me.”

“Fine.” He clambers out of his campbed, still wrapped tightly in his blanket, and pushes past her with as much dignity as he can muster to the stove, putting on a saucepan of water. He catches a glimpse of himself in the bubbles, and realises the treatment failed. Again. He’s just as disfigured as before. All that pain, all the bullshit and for what?

“It didn’t work, did it.”

“Afraid not, nope. We’re going to have to try again!”

He closes his eyes, and feels his wounds throb, the sound of his heartbeat rushing through his head. “Amy, I… I don’t… I don’t know how much longer I can…”

“Grow a pair of balls, Simon. You’re going to grow your face back if we have to kill you trying to do it. Also, if you’re making tea, I want a cup. I’m absolutely shattered.”

Obediently, he reaches for both the mugs he’d salvaged, knocking a jar of paintbrushes in his search for the caddy. He turns, surprised, and then remembers that she's nude and swings his head back quickly enough to get whiplash. “This is what you were out getting while I slept?”

“I told you, I wanted to spend a day bonding. Getting to know each other. I thought you might like to try life drawing. It could put your mind off things while we try the next vial? If you’re concentrating on something, it might make it easier.”

She’s rendered him momentarily speechless. He stirs the tea.

“Jesus. Okay. But if you ask me to paint you like one of my French girls I’m leaving with the weapons and I’m never coming back.”

“Done. I’ve always wanted a portrait. I do at least expect you to put in a reasonable amount of effort. Try and capture my best side.”

“You are completely shameless,” he says, almost impressed.

“Thank you very much,” she swans off to her room, mug in hand. “Let me know when you want to get started.”

[therenlover]

Gimme Swayze (Part 4.5 of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Tags: Fluff, Dancing, Gratuitous Dirty Dancing References, Love Confessions, Insecure!Reader, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language

Word Count: 2600~

This has been cross posted as the first chapter of the fic Cry To Me on my Ao3!

--------

“Dance with me, Peter?”

Y/N stood in the middle of the floor holding her hand out to him, hair mussed and wild with cheeks still streaked from tears shed earlier in the night. There, in the lamplight, she looked ethereal. Peter could imagine her as she was then in some grand Viennese ballroom. Every man, woman, and child would want to be seen on her arm, fully disregarding her casual clothes and the unhinged fire in her eyes, but she was choosing him. Something in his heart told him she always would.

With a smile and a groan, he pushed up off the creaky old plush couch and stretched his arms. “Are you gonna put on some music or are we gonna have to make our own?”

Peter didn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitched as she rushed over to the record player near the window. Her fingers skimmed over the knee-high stack of records at the base of the machine, searching through for something specific. After a moment she let out a small victorious noise. She pulled out the item she was looking for, a plastic-wrapped vinyl sheath, before holding it out towards Peter with a grin. Outside, the rain had slowed to a gentle pitter-patter on the concrete.

The paper cover was plain white, but it had a large title scrawled across the front in black magic marker: Y/N’s Ultimate Romance Mixtape.

“You put a mixtape… on a record? How much did this thing cost you?” Peter asked, walking to Y/N’s side to give the vinyl a closer look.

“Not just any mixtape,” she groaned, motioning for him to flip it over, “Our mixtape!” There on the back of the record, just as she promised, was a tracklist. Upon first viewing, by any average person, it would look pretty normal. To Peter, though, it was like looking down at a list of the top hits of his life. Time In A Bottle, Strange Magic, Born to Run, Sweet Dreams ...

“How did you-”

“I just started finding the songs I saw you listening to more than once, one day,” Y/N replied. She was staring at the floor again, wringing her hands. Was she… embarrassed? “I know it’s kinda weird and creepy… okay, it’s really weird and creepy, but I didn’t have anything else to do. It was just me in the Paris apartment back then and I still technically wasn’t a real person in the eyes of the government so I couldn’t work. What I’m trying to say is it was a nice way to pass the time, waiting for the newest song on the list to release, sitting patiently in the record shops hoping to hear a snippet of a melody I heard you humming along to in a vision...”

As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes seemed to glaze over. By the time her stream of consciousness had turned into less of a pour and more of a drip she looked halfway caught between the world and a dream. Peter could only imagine that when you’d lived as long as she had sometimes the past could seem like a dream. He’d been around for about 31 years, 67 if you included the years he lost between dimensions, and even he found himself looking back on parts of his childhood as if they were someone else’s. What would it be like in 10 more years? 20? 30? 100 didn’t even seem plausible.

Peter was only snapped from his internal monologue when Y/N snatched the record out of his hands and held it to her chest protectively. Her dreamy look was gone, replaced with one much more defensive.

“What?”

“If you’re just gonna gawk at it, I’m not gonna show you,” she said, carefully setting the record down on top of the closed player before turning her attention back to Peter, “I know it’s a little odd-”

“It’s cute!” Peter was quick to respond. He held up his hands, giving a small gesture of goodwill, before moving in to wrap her in his arms. She accepted, however stiffly. “Really, babe, it’s cute! I promise,”

With what seemed like a great amount of effort, Y/N relaxed into his touch. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just a little nervous… I’ve never done this before,”

“Oh, come on,” Peter’s mouth was almost against her skin now. His hot breath tickled the sensitive curve of her ear as he rocked their bodies back and forth on the balls of his feet, half calming and half comedic. “You don’t have to be nervous, Y/N. It’s just me,”

“That’s the problem!” Y/N was floundering in earnest now, her little heart pounding hard enough that Peter could feel it against his own chest. “With other guys it was easy! I knew they weren’t the end goal, and I knew… well, I thought they’d die long before you ever came into the picture, but now you’re here, and you’re you, and I’m so fucking terrified of messing everything up,”

Peter moved his hands to loosely grip her arms, rubbing calming circles into her flesh. “Babe, newsflash, I really like you. Like, stupidly like you. Head-over-heels type shit,” he paused to laugh, “and hey, I’m not the one who sees the future or anything, but I don’t see this going bad anytime soon. So take a deep breath, put on our mixtape, and just… let go,”

Y/N let her eyes find Peter’s, peering up through heavy lashes. “What if I fall?”

He kissed her softly on the forehead before he answered, “Baby, I have super speed. You can’t fall faster than I can catch you,”

The softest of smiles graced Y/N’s face before she pulled away, turning back to the record player and grabbing the record off the top as she opened it. She paused for a second, pensive, and Peter thought he might have to bolster her again before she turned back to him.

“Side A or Side B?”

Peter shrugged. “Whatever side you like the most,”

“Side B it is…” she smirked as she set the record on the table and got it spinning, dropping the needle gently onto the edge of the vinyl with a practiced hand, “That’s my side,” Under the sounds of the gentle rain and the city, the opening notes to a song halfway familiar began to ring out through the old bones of the apartment. The ancient wood seemed to creak its own melody under Y/N’s feet while she started to sway. Peter tried to follow along as best he could.

“I hope you know I can’t dance,” He mumbled, swinging his hips to and fro as Y/N giggled at him.

“Oh, I know,”

“Then why did you ask me to?”

“Just because you’re bad at dancing doesn’t mean I don’t wanna dance with you,”

“That’s so cheeeeesy, Y/N!”

She threw her head back as she shimmed into Peter’s arms across the floor. “And you love it,”

When she was finally in his arms again, they swayed loosely to the tune. There was no real rhythm to it, all clumsy feet and breathless laughter as they bumped their way through Y/N’s greatest hits, but it came from the heart. There were no doomsday clocks ticking in the background, no expectations of what to was to come. It was just the music around them and the rain in the street and the jerky unnatural movements of Peter Maximoff doing his best to internalize the beat as The Mamas and the Papas slowly drifted into Solomon Burke. Y/N hummed thoughtfully, pulling away from Peter’s arms as it began, bringing her arms up above her head as she shook her hips. Peter just groaned.

“You actually put the song from Dirty Dancing on the mixtape?”

Y/N didn’t respond, instead bopping her head along with the beat.

“I can’t believe it. You’re not even gonna answer me,”

She gave a wink and continued on.

“Really? The silent treatment?”

“I’m not saying another word until you embrace the Swayze, Peter,”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep inhale, and then stared daggers into Y/N’s eyes as he shrugged his shoulders. “You want Swayze, baby? You really want Swayze?”

“Oh, I wanna see some Swayze, Peter,”

“How’s this for Swayze?”

With a burst of superhuman speed, Peter raced across the floor, snatched Y/N up by her midriff, and lifted her above his head, delighting in her giggles and shrieks while he spun her. He may not have been the best dancer or the best mover, but Peter was good at a few things; things like utilizing his surprising strength and speed.

He kept Y/N aloft for a moment before gently returning her to the floor. There she stood, slightly dazed, as she got her bearings back, gripping the sleeve of Peter’s t-shirt for balance. To put it simply she was a giggling mess.

Peter loved watching her like this, carefree and loose, unbound from the tethers of trauma and time for a few brief moments. It made his heart soar higher to know that he made her like this. He was the one who threatened to toss her in with the seals at Central Park, which made her laugh so hard she almost yakked up her hotdog. It was him who sat with her on the couch throwing popcorn at the fuzzy TV screen whenever she suddenly froze up at the sound of a scream, distracting her enough that she could enjoy the movie till the end. His hands were the ones she grabbed whenever she saw a cute dog on the street and wanted to get close fast enough to pet it. He was a part of her joy, a minuscule blip on her radar making waves in her life for the better. Peter didn’t know if there was anything else he wanted to be in life that could mean more than that.

When Y/N finally got her giggles under control, she looked up at him with wet eyes and whispered. “That was pretty Swayze, babe,”

The second it left her lips she was in stitches again, her knees buckling as she collapsed to the floor, whole body wracked with her laughter. Peter joined her this time, settling himself down by her side and allowing the hysteria to wash over him like a pleasant wave. Once all was said and done, he and Y/N laid shoulder to shoulder on the antique sitting-room rug, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes and soft smiles. The record, all spun out, sat forgotten on the turntable.

“I know I’ve told you this already,” Y/N said, eyes glued to the rotating fan above her, “but I love you, Peter. I love you and I love who I am when I’m with you. You don’t have to say it back, I mean, I know this has all been ridiculously fast, but… I dunno. Even without the whole fated to cross paths thing, I think I’d love you now anyways, you know?” She bit her bottom lip, groaning, “Sorry, sorry, I know things are moving way too quick-”

Peter shushed her gently, rolling onto his side to look her in the eye. “Babe, you’re talking to the fastest man alive. Quick is literally in my name. Don’t worry about it,”

“Yeah. I guess it is, huh?”

“And for the record,” he took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I love you too, Y/N. I have for a while now. It has to have been since… well all the way back when Dr. Strange had me tied up at your work. I was so sure that I had screwed everything up with you, that you were gonna let him drag me to superhero prison and wash your hands of me, but you didn’t. You came in there guns blazing, even when you knew I had fucked up big time and accidentally tried to steal some real spooky shit, and from that second on I never once felt like you would ever be willing to get rid of me just because I’m annoying,”

She nudged him with her shoulder. Not hard, just enough to jostle him. “You’re not annoying,”

“Have you met me? Annoying is literally my middle name,”

“No,” Y/N’s voice got soft, “No, your middle name is Django. Your favorite color is blue, but specifically bright teal-ish blue like the blue moon ice cream your mom used to buy you on vacation back when you were a little kid. You can’t dance but you have surprisingly good rhythm, and even if you’re not proud of your voice you should be because if you weren’t the world’s fastest man you could be touring as a singer with your guitar. You always sleep on the right side of the bed, your favorite season is the weird limbo between summer and fall, you can’t stand the James Bond movies, and if anybody asked you’d say your favorite food is Twinkies but it’s not. Your favorite food is pierogies, specifically the cheese and potato kind from Nana Dudek’s in Polish town because they remind you of your Nana the few times you remember going to see her. All of that is true, and so is the fact that you love me,”

She went quiet, eyes watching the blades of the ceiling fan in their lazy rotations. Slowly, she reached out her hand, interlocking her pinkie with Peter’s own without even having to look down and find it.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” Peter whispered.

Y/N let a huff of air out of her nose, a silent laugh at a joke only she knew.

“You’re not supposed to say anything. I just wanted you to know,”

“Know what?”

“Know that even if you can never build up the courage to tell me you love me again, I’ll be just fine, because I know, and you know, and that’s all that matters,”

Something in Peter’s heart, however small, shattered at just how vulnerable Y/N sounded.

Both of them were jaded in their own ways. They had seen bloodshed and torment and the roots of human suffering. It wasn’t always as simple as saying ‘I love you’. Sometimes the world left you a broken pulp with little faith and saying three little magic words just wasn’t possible. There’s no place for love in the heart of a person at war, nor is there any guarantee that they’ll ever be able to express that forbidden weakness again. It’s a commodity, like hope, that came in rare supply to people like Peter and Y/N. That being said, in the safety and warmth of the sitting room with the cozy couch and the antique rug and the ceiling fan and the record player, neither of them were at war, and Peter would be a damn fool if he didn’t take advantage of that.

He rolled onto his side once again, waiting there in silence until Y/N rolled onto her side to greet him, and then, with all of the feelings he had hidden in his heart since the moment he ran at top speed for the first time he kissed her.

Without hesitation, she kissed him back.

-------

a/n: Sorry this took so long to get out! It’s short, but I wanted it to be long enough to be it’s own mini chapter, so our minor friends can enjoy the sweetness without having to lose any of the story in the spicy bit. That being said, the spicy bit comes next lol. My shift bar is being fussy, and I need to sleep, so I’m signing off for the night, but thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, let me know!

Please do not post my work to any other sites, thank you ! <3

[mint-yooxgi]

Caturday - Ten X Reader

Slight Catboy!AU - Part of the Wasn’t On Pawpose Collab

Genre: Fluff, Slight Crack

Pairing: Ten X Reader

Words: 2,732

Summary: Waking up one morning to see a cat where your boyfriend should be can be quite the shock indeed.

A/n: Short and sweet, at least I think so, lol. I mean, he does have a tendency to look a little feline at times, it’s truly amazing. Not edited fully, oops. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this short little update, there’s plenty more where this came from coming soon! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy!

The sound of your keys jangling meets your ears as you unlock the door to your apartment. Once the lock clicks open, you’re pushing open the door, kicking off your shoes while letting out a small breath.

“Ten, I’m home!” You call out, noticing the lights in the living room are still on.

A groan is all you hear in response.

“Ten?” Your brow furrows in worry, for that did not sound like he’s having a good time.

“In here,” he voices shakily, and you step down the hallway to see him curled up on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, you’re beside him, crouching down to feel his forehead and noticing he’s a bit warm, as if he’s running a slight temperature.

“Don’t feel well,” he pouts. “Stomachache.”

You pout right back at him, worry still creasing your brows, “was it something you ate?”

“I don’t know,” he groans once more, eyes squeezing shut as a wave of pain travels through his body.

“Come on, let’s get you ready for bed,” you say, helping him off of the couch and towards your shared bedroom. “I’m sure getting some sleep will help; you’ll feel better in the morning.”

He can only manage a groan in response, letting you help him off of the couch and lead him into your shared bedroom. Flicking on the lights, you sit him on the bed before tucking him gently under the covers.

“Try and get some rest, I’ll be back soon,” you say, gently brushing the hair off of his forehead as he pouts at you. “I need to shower first, I promise I’ll be quick.”

He nods, turning onto his side and curling back into a ball as he clutches his stomach. You spare a final glance at him over your shoulder as you retreat to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to wash off the events of the day. Once you’re done, you slip into some comfy pyjamas and make sure to grab Ten a glass of water and some pain medication.

Stepping back into your room, you hear him letting out small whimpers, only increasing your worry.

“Here, take this,” you say, handing him the pills and glass of water.

“Thanks,” he whispers, taking a swig of the water before placing it carefully on the bedside table.

You move quickly around the room, shutting off the lights as you crawl into bed beside him. He curls into your side, head resting on your chest as you gently stroke his back in comfort. You just hope the medicine kicks in soon, for his small whimpers of pain have returned, and he feels warmer than he did the first time you checked his forehead.

It takes about twenty minutes for his whimpers to die down and his breathing to even out, letting you know that he’s finally fallen asleep. You breathe a small sigh of relief, allowing your own eyes to fall shut as you swallow the rest of your worry. He should feel better in the morning.

***

The faint warmth of sunlight streaming in from the open blinds warms your face as you drift back into consciousness. With your eyes remaining closed, you can feel a solid warmth on your stomach, letting you know that Ten has shifted in his sleep during the night so that his head is now resting there. It’s one of his favourite positions of his to lay in, with his head on your stomach as you lazily run your fingers through his hair, which is exactly what you are doing right now.

Except, his hair feels different.

Instead of the soft, medium black strands you’re used to, his hair is not only shorter in length, but it feels slightly courser even though it’s still soft to the touch. Another thing you’re missing is the warmth of his body pressed against your side, with his arms around your torso. In fact, it feels as if the warmth is centred on your stomach; a small ball.

Your eyes fling open. Glancing down reveals a solid black cat curled up on your stomach in place of your boyfriend’s head. Your hand freezes as you inhale sharply in shock.

Ever so slowly, the cat’s eyes blink open, a large yawn escaping its mouth as it looks at you expectantly. 

“Uh, Ten?” You call out, hoping he’s just making breakfast down the hallway in the kitchen and will come to explain the black cat now laying on top of you.

The cat blinks at you expectantly.

“Ten, what’s going on?” You call out again, hearing no movement in your apartment.

Sitting up quickly, the cat rolls off of you, complaining loudly with a yip. Throwing the covers off of yourself, you stand up, feet padding through the apartment in search of your boyfriend.

“Ten?” There’s worry lacing your voice now since you know he didn’t have plans for today.

An annoyed meow is your only response, hearing the thunk of the cat hitting the floor as it follows you down the hallway.

“Babe? This isn’t funny anymore,” you say, checking both the living room and kitchen but finding nothing, not even a note.

The cat huffs, and you turn to look at it.

“Now, where did you come from?” You ask, more to yourself than anything, but the cat just stares at you, almost expectantly. Its eyes narrow slightly, and your breathing stops. You’d know that look, those eyes anywhere. “Ten?”

A loud meow in response, as if he’s saying ‘what’?

“Ten, you’re a-“ you let out a snort of disbelief, “you’re a cat.”

His tail flicks in annoyance as if to say he’s gathered that much already, and you laugh once more in disbelief.

“How the fuck did this happen? I must be dreaming,” you mumble, shaking your head as you walk into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Not even a minute later, you see Ten trot into the kitchen, a loud mrow escaping him. 

“This has to be a dream,” you sigh, rubbing at your temples as you place your now empty glass of water on the counter.

You look down in time to see Ten preparing to jump on the counter, only for him to misjudge the distance and smack his face right on the edge. You burst out laughing, all the while he glares at you and complains loudly.

“Not used to a cat’s body, huh?” You chuckle. “You know, despite all those times I thought you looked like a cat I never thought you’d actually become one.” A loud huff in response. “Aw, does someone want up on the counter?”

He glares at you, and his tail flicks in annoyance. You shake your head amusedly as you bend down to pick him up to place him on the counter.

“Now, how the fuck do I fix this?” You grumble, frown back on your face as you stare at him. He simply sits there, head tilted slightly as he stares back. “Well, it’s not like I can call anyone,” at this point, you’re talking to yourself, but you can tell by the way he follows you with his head, Ten is listening to your every word. “Like they would believe me anyways. ‘Yeah, hey, Lucas, you’ll never believe what happened to Ten.’” You roll your eyes as Ten growls. “Exactly, that would just make him think we’re trying to prank him if we told him.”

Bracing your hands on the edge of the counter, you let out a groan. Surprisingly, you’re taking this much better than you thought you normally would. Granted, you don’t think something like this has every happened before, and you still don’t understand exactly how it happened. Either way, the sound of your stomach growling manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

“No point in trying to think on an empty stomach,” you mutter, searching the kitchen for something to eat. Your eyes light up as you find a coffee cake in the cupboard, one slice having already been eaten.

A hiss escapes Ten as you place the container beside him on the counter, causing your brow to furrow in confusion, “relax, it’s just coffee cake.”

However, just as you go to open the container Ten swats your hand away, putting his newly formed cat body between you and the cake, “hey! What was that for?”

Another hiss is all you receive as Ten glares at the cake.

“Is this what gave you such an upset stomach last night?” You question, and immediately Ten meets your gaze, head nodding once ever so slightly you almost miss it. He turns back to the container and starts nudging it towards the trash can at the end of the counter. “Alright, alright, I’ll throw it out.”

Releasing another sigh, you scoop the container up and check the freshness date as you walk over to the garbage to throw it out. Your nose scrunches in distaste as you see the cake is way passed its freshness date. No wonder it upset his stomach; you wonder who even thought it was a good idea to sell this product still, all things considered.

Opening the trashcan with your foot, you’re about to drop the cake in when you stare at it intently, holding it at eye level. Your brow furrows as you look between the cake and your now feline boyfriend, then back at the cake. Shaking your head at the thought, you drop the cake in the trash. There’s no way that this was the cause of your boyfriend turning into a small, fluffy animal, right?

Once you grab some actual food that isn’t expired, you grab your laptop and sit at the kitchen counter. Ten hops up beside you, tail swishing slowly as he watches you look up potential reasons as to how and why this has happened as you eat. So far, you haven’t found much other than some weird websites that only tell you how to curse someone into turning into an animal, which you’re not even sure is actually real.

Finally, after about an hour and a half of searching, you find this forum where people have shared their outrageous experiences, some of which seem to fall under similar lines to what has happened to your boyfriend. Most of the posts you find say that it lasts for about a day, always after eating a specific coffee cake from a bakery that mysteriously seems to disappear when they go back to check it out again.

“Alright,” you sigh, causing Ten to raise his head from his front paws. He had curled up into a ball on the counter as he watched you work, and you’re pretty sure he had a cat nap, too. “It looks like whatever this is should only last until tomorrow, so you’ll be a biped once more once the sun rises in the morning. Until then, the best we can do is wait it out.”

He simply stares at you as you shut your laptop, leaning back in your chair to rub at your eyes. You meet his gaze and he sits up once more.

“I’m sorry, boo, I don’t know what to do,” your expression falls. You just hope that this isn’t permanent, who knows how many times this weird instance has gone wrong, and how many are still trapped in an animal’s body.

You watch him as he jumps down from the counter, stumbling a little once he reaches the floor. You hear him mrow at you once more, making his way to the living room. When he sees you not following, he stops to glance at you from over his shoulder, tail poised in the air as he calls to you once more.

“You want me to follow you?” You ask, receiving a positive response from him. Chuckling slightly, you slid out of your seat, “okay then.”

He leads you over to the couch, where he jumps up and turns to you expectantly. Quirking a brow, you sit with him on the couch, tossing your feet up while you’re at it. Almost immediately, he starts crawling towards you, and onto your lap, doing his best to keep his balance as he starts to nuzzle your chin and neck.

“Someone’s affectionate today,” you giggle, hand pausing just above his head as you go to pet him, but you’re unsure whether that would be appropriate. However, once his head nudges your open palm, you decide to hell with it, and start petting him.

You never thought your boyfriend could purr until now, but you swear he sounds like a tiny motorboat as he continues to nuzzle his face into your neck. You smile faintly as you see him lay down, front paw on either side of your neck as his tail swishes back and forth contently. He gives you a sleepy eyed blink before resting his head right at your neck, and you nearly jump once you feel him give you a small lick.

“Ten, that tickles,” you huff, amused.

You just catch the devilish gleam in his eyes before he’s moved forwards slightly and is now littering your face with kisses.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, “I love you, too.”

You manage to surprise him by placing a swift kiss to the top of his head and he looks at you, stunned. 

“Payback,” you grin as he settles down on your chest once more.

Not even a minute later, a yawn is escaping your lips, already noticing how Ten lays with his eyes closed, tail still flicking in content over your stomach, as if he’s petting you right back. He has yet to stop purring.

Your eyes start to droop, and you can feel sleep calling out to you to have a nap in the warm afternoon sun. Before you know it, the two of you have drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, you wake up, feeling a mildly heavy weight resting on your chest, hair tickling the underside of your chin. You let out a small groan, bringing your hand up to push the object down, only to be greeted with a small chuckle as you push slightly, yet the object doesn’t seem to want to yield.

“Ow,” a voice huffs, and your eyes fling open.

“Ten?” Your eyes lock with his familiar ones, a grin pulling at his lips as you see him laying half on top of you.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he greets, “or should I say afternoon?”

You sit up immediately, taking him with you as you cup his face in your hands, “you’re here! You’re alive, and-“ you let out a sigh of relief, “and you’re not a cat!”

“Not anymore, looks like it,” he agrees, “though I definitely don’t want that to happen again any time soon.”

You nearly squeeze the air out of him, “I was so worried.”

“I could tell,” he chuckles, hugging you back tightly. “I never thought I’d have an actual tail before.”

“I didn’t think you’d be, well, you again until tomorrow morning,” you breathe and he smiles slightly as he pulls away to look at your face.

“Same here,” he tells you. “I’m just glad everything is back to normal.”

“Me too,” you reply, just as a teasing smile tugs at your lips. “Though I was staring to like you as a cat, the peace and quiet…”

“Oh, haha, real funny,” he deadpans. “Maybe I’ll just stay that way next time.”

“Gosh no!” You shake your head instantly. “I’m just glad to have you back to normal.”

You pull him into another embrace, cradling his head into your neck, grateful to feel his arms wrap themselves around you.

“It’s good to be back to normal,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Though I have to say, you still smell amazing.”

You can feel the grin on his lips against your skin as you whine slightly in embarrassment. He simply chuckles once more in response, and you can’t help but to smile right along with him. No matter what, you’re just glad to have your boyfriend back in his own body.

“Now, what is there to eat?” He pulls away, standing from the couch as he heads towards the kitchen. He turns to wink at you from over his shoulder as he says, “I’m starving.”

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: Honeysucklepink Day 1

Author : @honeysucklepink​ 

How did you get into Glee and Glee fandom?

I was actually an American Idol fan, and I had seen the previews for the show, but I had already been burned on Eli Stone and honestly didn't want to get into a show that would get cancelled after a few episodes. Plus I was watching Lost and it conflicted (I to this day have not invested in a DVR). But the same site that was recapping Idol started recapping Glee, and more annoyingly my sister was watching it (and yet hated Idol). So anyway, fast forward to the end of Lost, and suddenly my Tuesdays were free again, so I decided to tune in to the "Home" episode. This goes to show how influential fandom can be to how a show is perceived. I loved Will, I was charmed by April, I felt bad for Kurt but rolled my eyes at his pursuit of Finn. I think the only thing that has stayed consistent was being WOWED by Mercedes. I watched the rest of the season, and then I'm pretty sure they re-ran it over the summer (I swear I'm sure they did, though even by 2010 most networks had stopped doing summer reruns).

Even through the second season, I kept up with Glee and other shows via sites like MJs Big Blog and Entertainment Weekly.  But I never was in FANDOM...not until, honestly, Blaine and Darren. I knew he was coming thanks to an EW news item. I was also watching Californication at the time, and they were using his original music to promote the show (Mia's doing, I later discovered). So my joke for a while was that I kept getting hooked on these singer-songwriters from Fox TV shows (David Cook and Kris Allen from Idol, and now Darren). But also by this time I was liking Kurt more...yes I had thought his pursuit of Finn was inappropriate, but then Laryngitis and Theatricality happened and by the time Never Been Kissed was about to air I was like 'THIS BOY NEEDS SOMETHING HAPPY IN HIS LIFE.' And then Blaine sang, and Kurt smiled, and I was a goner.

But I still wasn't there-there. Not until the following summer. The tour was happening, and of course it was happening NOWHERE NEAR ME, so I followed it on social media. I had a Tumblr, but wasn't using it that much. There was a Glee Forum that I frequented much more (don't even ask what my username was, it's long-forgotten). Also, I was in Seattle for a continuing education thing, and I spent a lot of time on my computer...doing work but also taking a lot of breaks by hanging on the forums. I got sucked in...soon I was doing more fan stuff on Tumblr, drifted from Glee Forum, and well, the rest is history.

In general, what drew you into writing (and/or creating)?

I think like a lot of people it was having stories in my head that I wanted to read and, not seeing anyone else writing them, realizing I had to write them myself. Writing fic for me usually goes much more stream-of-consciousness (thank goodness for betas). Very different from the academic writing that I have to do for my career, which involves a lot of research, structure, deadlines, etc. Being Southern and coming from a storytelling tradition helps. And a little morbid, but I think a little fatalism? Knowing we all die in the end, and the idea of leaving a little something behind, something that's not a kid, but a little part of me, that someone comes across and it means something to them. Even if my actual name isn't attached to it, it's still there.

What was it about Glee that made you decide to write fanfic for it?

It wasn't like my little reader prompts were always going to get the attention of a writer, so sometimes a scene would get stuck in my head and I'd just have to write it to get it out, or a song would get stuck in my head that I wished the show would do. Sometimes it was speculation, or wish-fulfillment...I'd read a spoiler and wonder how it COULD go, or see a song done and go "pfft, not how I would have done it, I'm rewriting this." And um, let's be real, I was at the peak of my sexual health, heck I'm pretty sure the show helped me accept that yep I'm really fucking queer, and there are just some Klaine scenes that the ol' Fox Network ain't gonna show you...

Have you been a part of other fandoms before? Have you written fanfiction pre-glee?

I posted in fan communities... I was on an E! board for The Girls Next Door for a while, I was a frequent poster on college football message boards, and of course I was on some boards for Idol (and regrettably, Vote For the Worst). But those communities didn't always stick to the fandom object...like half the time on the GND boards we didn't talk about GND at all! And re: fanfiction, I never read it until season seven of Idol... there was a David Cook saga I really got into (because there was intrigue and stalking and drama), that in retrospect was very much a self-insert Mary Sue (I know that term is fraught but in this case it was SO deserved), there were quite a few "Mavid" one-shots that were pretty juicy, and oh lord there was a D/s with Clay Aiken that, if you try not to actually picture CLAY FUCKING AIKEN, was hot. I really wasn't reading a lot of LGBTQ fic. My one hand at writing fic was as a joke...there was an off-shoot of the VFTW blog, and I wrote an RPF hetero scene of Kris Allen and his wife. To this day I cringe at that. I didn't touch writing fic again until Glee and Klaine.

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I haven't really done a true "enemies to lovers" fic, but I'd like to try it sometime. Or fake dating, that's one I'd need to get inspired by the right set-up.

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I can't do incest, not even in a "well technically they're stepbrothers so it's not REALLY..." Yes really it's still a NOPE. And while there have been slave fics I've really liked, like the "Def" verse? Um, I'm from the American South, my ancestors go far back enough, fuck no I'm not writing a slave AU.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Oh lord, there's maybe two or three...there's one that has the premise written, that I don't know if or when I'll finish it, that has Kurt as a quarterback and Blaine as a center (the guy who is bent over right in front of the QB that passes him the ball), and it's solely inspired by a college football player that waxed poetic at a press conference about what kind of butt a good center should have, and I'll let you fill in the blanks.

***

Check out Honeysucklepink’s Fics

A Place That's Safe and Warm -  Writer and blogger Blaine Anderson just wanted to have a few drinks, hook up with his friend Kurt, and pretend for a little while that his adopted city of Boston hadn’t been attacked. He meant to make a quiet exit the morning after, but overbearing parents, a cranky roommate, and the justice system had other plans.

Later On, We'll Conspire -  My "naughty" fic for Klaine Advent 2015: Kurt and Blaine get snowed in, with an empty loft and an extra-special gift basket from Santana (takes place in Season Five, pre-5.14).

Somebody Loves You -  My "nice" Klaine Advent 2015 fic: missing scenes from Glee Season Six. Chapter titles are the prompts.

[massivelycreepypineapple]

Wickedly Vicious and Vile

Part 1 to Wonderfully Gentle and Loving

Request: hello. i have a request dean x reader. in the Christmas pagan God episode, I want dean and Sam to hunt reader down because she is kidnapped for the God's sacrifice. When they are being tortured, reader is dragged from her chair in front of dean and sam and is being tortured in front of dean by the gods son (sexually too), who ofc is swearing and crying. then they start to torture dean and the reader is crying too. is that alright? i love your writing ♡

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warning: Allusions to sexual assault.Torture. Angst. Dark fic. Please don’t read if it’ll trigger you in any way.

A/N 1: I just want to say that I am in no way romanticising sexual assault and torture. My heart goes out to anyone who has been hurt. I hope with all my heart you guys find the peace you deserve.

A/N 2: Thanks for the request, Anon! It’s my first dark fic, hope this is alright.

Word Count: 2280

❅ ❅ ❅

Sam, Dean and Y/N had come into town on a hunt a couple of days ago. They had learned that evil Santa was creating havoc by killing humans. It so turned out that the Christmas pagan gods have turned up this year, using human beings as sacrifices. The trio spent their time interviewing people and collecting evidence and researching. They had just gotten back from interviewing the Carrigans. They knew there was something shady about those guys. They had made a game plan to break into their house that night and investigate, when Y/N decided to go on a supply run to get some things before the hunt.

But it had been almost three hours and Y/N wasn’t back yet. It was driving Dean crazy. How long does a supply run even take? She only had to get medical supplies. They had planned to kill the pagan gods that night but she just had to disappear. Sam didn’t seem all that fazed but as the third hour nearly struck he too was becoming restless. Having had enough of waiting, Dean decided they should go look for her. There was this unsettling feeling in his stomach and the sooner they found his girl, there was less of a chance that he’d shit a brick. 

But nothing went according to plan for the Winchesters. They managed to track Y/N to the Carrigan’s basement but everything went south after that.

______

Sam and Dean were each tied to a chair in the dining room. There were tools laid on the table that could only mean one thing. Pain. Intense, scary pain. They heard a struggle from the adjoining room, when the door opened to reveal Y/N dragged in by the Carrigan's son, James. She was beaten up badly, with blood trickling down the side of her mouth. A large angry bruise was forming on her forehead. She sported a black eye on the right and the worst of all, her clothes were torn and battered, meticulously ripped apart to reveal just the right amount of skin. 

Dean felt himself tear up at the sight of her. It was like he could feel her pain. He felt the rage build up inside him. “YOU SON OF A BITCH! LET HER GO!” he yelled and struggled in his restraints. 

The young man only laughed at that. He didn’t dignify it with a response. He treated Y/N like a rag doll, forcing her to sit on the chair and proceeded to tie her up like the brothers, barely giving them a second glance as they yelled profanities at him. Madge and Edward stood there smirking at the whole scene. They knew what was going to happen, they decided to let James have a little fun before their feast.

He walked in front of Y/N crouched down facing her. She was barely conscious, her breathing was shallow. He caressed her so tenderly and smirked as he watched her try to recoil from him. She whimpered when his hand graced over the bruise on her forehead and without any warning he pressed his fingers into it really hard making her yell out in pain, jerking her out of her semi conscious state. He watched on with fascination as she whimpered some more. He then got up and walked to the table.

Y/N was in agony and looking at Dean and Sam tied up, made it all worse. She wasn’t sure how they’d get out of this one. This could be the last case and she didn’t even get to kiss or hold Dean one last time or hug Sam and tell him what an amazing friend he was to her. All she could think about was how the last thing the three of them would see would be the other getting tortured. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when James came back with a knife and a bowl, slowly began cutting away what was left of her top from the neck. The tip of the knife graced her skin and he applied light pressure, watching in awe as the blood trickled out the wound and into the bowl. Y/N screamed in pain she didn’t have the energy to beg him to stop. But she could hear Dean crying out for her.

“NO! STOP THAT! YOU BASTARD! STOP!” He’s never before wanted to hurt someone the way he wanted to hurt these people. But hurling insults at them wasn’t working and he resorted to begging. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, just stop hurting her.” Dean Winchester rarely begged, but he would get down on both knees and beg his heart out just to make him stop hurting his Y/N.

“Now, now, don’t interrupt my boy.” Chided Edward. “He needs to focus. It’s his first time taking control after all.”

“Just wait till I get my hands on you, you filthy bastard! I’ll be sure to kick your godly balls really hard!” He spat at him and struggled some more and then suddenly felt a tight slap on his cheek given to him by Madge.

“We don’t curse in this family, my dear.” She said as if to petulant a child. 

“Bite me!” Spat Dean who got hit once more. 

Sam was trying his best to keep it together through it all. He knew it was up to him at this point to figure out an escape. He was busy trying to get out of his restraints, doing his best to not let Y/N’s and Dean’s cries get to him. He couldn’t give in to his pain now. It was up to him to save the two people who mattered the most in his life.

Y/N felt the man push her torn top apart, “No, please. Don’t do this.” she whispered half sobbing. 

“Shh, love. It’ll be over before you know it” He said, his voice smooth as honey.

She knew what was coming. She knew if this happened there was no going back and she’d lose herself. She saw him walk behind her and place his hands on her shoulder. She felt disgust at his touch. She looked up at Dean to see he was no better. She looked into his eyes, wishing he wasn’t here to see this. 

“Well, Dean. Why don’t I give you a little show, huh?” Said James and grinned wolfishly. “Teach you how to pleasure your girl.”

Dean was openly crying at this point. Tears and snot streaming down his face. He couldn’t do this. He had never before felt so helpless in his life. He shook his head frantically, choking back a sob. “Stop, please stop!” His voice trailed off as he cried harder. 

Things just went from bad to worse from then. Soon James’ pants came down and he made Y/N do things that she would forever be sealed in her memory. Dean could do nothing but hear her strugglin, crying and begging for him to stop. He promised hell upon them. His heart shattered into a thousand pieces and he didn’t know how anyone of them could recover from this. 

Then suddenly it stopped. “You know, Y/N” James began, “I don’t think it’s fair that your boyfriend and his brother only watch the show. What do you say we make them feel noticed?”

“Y-you stay a-away from them, you fucking bastard!” She said her voice hoarse. Her throat burned as a result of the things he made her do.

“Nah, I think I’ll go with my plan” He smirked. “And you’re gonna watch!” 

He held her hair tightly forcing her to look at Dean. Madge walked towards him with a knife and another bowl. She was giddy with barely controlled glee. She ripped her shirt apart, button flying away. Dean flinched at that, struggling to get away. But it was no use. He yelled in pain as he cut deeply into his chest collecting blood in the bowl. She kept repeating the ordeal, making him scream out in pain. Y/N was crying harder hearing his pained cries. Watching the love of her life get tortured felt worse than what she went through. 

Sam was begging them to stop. “Please, please just let us go! Don’t hurt them anymore!” 

But it only fell on deaf ears. 

“This is not your run of the mill sacrifice!! This is fucking rape and abuse! It’s not how you work!” He screamed.

“Well, we like to mix things up a bit” Edward grinned at Sam.

The gods were clearly more amused with Dean and Y/N. Making sure to fuck with their relationship. They had no inhibitions and would do anything to get their entertainment. It was their godly right apparently.

When Madge seemed to be done, Y/N noticed his entire front was bloody and his breathing got shallow. “I’m so sorry, Dean!” She wailed. 

His eyes barely opened as he struggled to get out, “I-i’m f-fine, Sweetheart. I-it’s g-going to be ok- okay. I-I P-promise.”

Edward had grabbed some pliers ready to pluck his tooth out. He walked over to Dean and grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth open. He went to pull his tooth out, but just then the doorbell rang. The Carrigans paused and looked at each other wide eyed and unsure of what to do.

“Somebody gonna get that? I think you should.” Said Sam, hoping they’d go. He finally had a chance to escape and help his family. 

The Carrigans sighed in frustration and left the room to see who interrupted their ritual. 

Meanwhile Sam managed to get out of his restraints and rushed over to Dean to help him up. Once he was free, Dean pushed away from Sam and rushed to Y/N as fast as his wounds would allow him. When she realised what was happening, she reached out to Dean desperately in need of the one person who could comfort her right now. She was beyond tired, the trauma of what happened was catching up with her and she was losing consciousness and before Dean could get to her she slumped down in her chair.

“Y/N!” He whispered yelled at her, patting her cheeks lightly to get her to wake up, but to no avail. “Fuck.” He muttered. Sam crouched down next to him to check on her himself.

“Dean, she just lost consciousness. But we need to get to a hospital immediately before you bleed out and something worse happens to her.” 

He didn’t reply, he simply shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her, hiding her exposed body. He laid her gently on the floor slightly hidden from view. He remained crouched down next to her for a few seconds. He jerked away when Sam placed a hand on his shoulder.

 “Dean, we got to move. They’ll be here any second.” Sam whispered. 

“Let them come” Said Dean as he stood up slowly and turned around. He made his way into the adjoining room and spotted the Christmas tree, Sam following him. “I’m going to kill these sons of bitches if it’s the last thing I do, Sammy.”

He didn’t leave any room for argument, “We need evergreen stakes right? Here’s a whole bunch.” He said, breaking the tree. Sam rushed to help his brother, knowing that he was in one of his zones. Nothing can stop him from getting his revenge for Y/N. And honestly? He wasn’t complaining. He wanted these assholes dead just as badly. 

With the crash of the tree, the Carrigans rushed into the room and within seconds a fight broke out. Sam was able to hold his own, while Dean was struggling with the overwhelming pain in his body. After what felt like ages, Sam managed to kill Madge and Edward and rushed to help Dean with their son.

“She sucks really good, Dean. You’re a lucky man” The asshole grinned with blood dripping from his face.”You were there. You saw!” 

Dean didn’t react to that. He had gotten into this calculated zone where every step he took was planned way in advance. He was like a machine whose only mission was to destroy the vile thing in front of him.

Sam had never seen Dean this angry before. He had beaten him up pretty badly despite being hurt and as the bastard laid there in pain, Dean lifted his leg and placed his foot on his dick slowly added more and more pressure making him yell out in pain.He then took the sharp end of a branch and slowly drove it into his stomach knowing just how to miss all the vital organs so he’ll suffer longer. Dean looked up at Sam and threw him the car keys.

“Take Y/N to the car, I’ll be there in a min.” His gruff emotionless voice came through. 

Sam watched in horror, he didn’t know if he should stop Dean or let him have his revenge. The latter won out knowing just how vile and disgusting the man bleeding out was. He let Dean have this. He quickly grabbed the keys and made his way to Y/N and picked her up gently. He carried her to the impala and placed her on the back seat watching over her and checking how bad her wounds were. 

Dean made his way out and got in the back seat letting Sam drive them to the nearest hospital. He held Y/N in his lap tightly, afraid she’ll disappear again. He needed to be there with her. He made a silent promise to her and himself that he would do everything in his power to make this better for them. It won’t be easy and it sure as hell will be a long one, but he’d be there for her. Every damn step of the way.

❅ ❅ ❅

TAGS BELOW @hobby27 @akshi8278

[jj-lynn21]

can you write something where hemlock grove goes on full lockdown cause someone came to school armed and is threatening people and Roman is freaking out cause he can’t find his girlfriend. he sneaks out the classroom and has to be super quiet and finds his girlfriend in there meeting spot downstairs in a basement type room they found together.

I am changing this up a little because I don’t right teenager Roman.  I think of Roman and his girl as eternally 25 and 27. Let’s say you and Letha are teachers at the school. When Roman finds out what is going on, him and Peter want to save the day which is more difficult with the actual authorities camping out in front of Godfrey Academy.  

Warnings: armed gunman in school, school lockdown, I know these things could trigger some readers. Angsty,  

Hero Complex  

“Have a great day, Babe.” Roman said as he dropped you at school. He kissed your cheek before you got out of the jag. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You returned as you waved. A smile lighting up your face.  

You had been a kindergarten teacher two semesters at Godfrey elementary Academy. You loved all your students and spent extra time after hours with those that had a hard time with anything. And the parents loved you for that. Roman admired you for it.  

Letha waved to you from the school door. She was a first-grade teacher there. You ran up the five stairs to go inside to get ready for the children to arrive. You wrote some letters and numbers on the chalk board and pull the Jack and the Beanstalk book off the shelf to read during rest period.  

The kids stream in as usual. You great them happily as usual. All are eager to lean as usual. As they all get their floor carpets out for story time an alarm goes off. It is the alarm that signifies a shooter is in the building. There is no test of the system do today. The children looked to you in a panic. Some of them started to cry.  

“It is okay children.” you tell them quietly and calmly. “We have planned for this. Everything will be okay. Go to the closet until me or a police officer tells you to come out.” You put them in the closet. Then you went to push the desk against the door before you would join them.  

Roman and Peter received an alert from the school that the school was on lockdown. Roman was in a meeting. He cut the person off who was giving a report. “We will continue this at a later date.” He had no other explanation. The room of investors were stunned. He stopped by the secretary’s desk. “Reschedule all my appointment for today. There is something going on at the school.” He called Peter on his way out the door. “Meet me at the horse stable near the elementary school. The school is on lockdown. I don’t trust those keystone cops to get our women and the children out of there alive.”

“I was already on my way to the school.” Peter was in the van speeding down the road. “I figured you were on your way also.”

They hung-up on each other making their way to the barn. Peter did not know why Roman wanted to meet so far away until he got closer. The Hemlock Grove Police had a roadblock keeping parents and everyone else back from the school. When he saw he went off road to get to the barn. Roman was just getting out of his jag making a call when Peter pulled up beside him.

“She isn’t answering her cellphone.” Roman’s annoyance showed in the way his shoulders sloped. “Have you called Letha?”

“I tried while driving but got no answer.” Peter got his phone from his pocket.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,” Roman through a tantrum.

Peter finally got a hold of Letha. “Are you alright?” He put his phone on speaker so Roman could hear.

“I’m in the cafeteria.” She whispered. “I heard gunshots in the hallway but kept the kids quiet.”

“Is my girl in there with you Letha?” Roman asked panicked.

“No, I think she is in her classroom.” Letha informed them. “The kindergarten classrooms have a closet shelter for the kids and teacher. You two don’t do anything stupid. I’m sure the police have it under control. I heard sirens.”

Roman huffed as Peter assured her, they would not do anything dangerous. She knew by the huff Roman made and tone of Peter’s voice it was to late to tell them what to do. 

Roman tried to call you again and you picked up. “I can’t talk Roman. I was trying to push the desk in front of the door. I hear the shooter. I can’t push it...” The phone went dead.

Roman started running towards the back of the school. Peter ran after him until they got close enough to see the police at the entrance. There were only two so Roman knew he could easily manipulate them. “Stay here until I wave you inside. Then stay behind me. It might hurt like Hell, but I will survive a gun shot or two, maybe more if I need to get to her.“

Peter sniffed the air. “I can smell the gun smoldering after each shot.”  

Roman nods. He strolled over to the two officers. “Roman you can’t be here.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I own this school. My women works here. You,” He looked directly at one of the officers. “You are going to let Peter and I inside. Then you are going to start leading the kids outside to safety.”

The other cop smirked. “Listen Roman you can’t...”

“You,” Roman’s nose was starting to bleed. “Are going to follow my orders and your partners lead to get the children and teachers out as quickly as possible.” 

The cops opened the door and Roman waved Peter inside. As the officers went into the office to get some kids and staff out Roman and Peter followed a scream. Your scream. Him and Peter Rush to the sound.  The shooter is holding a gun to your temple. “Stop right there Roman fuckling Godfrey. She was mine before she was yours and I’m taken this Bitch back even if I have to kill us both”

Your eyes were large as you panicked. You tried to pull his hand from your throat. His other handheld the riffle pointed right at Roman and Peter. “Go get Letha, Peter. I got this.”  

“Are you sure?” Peter looked at the gunman and back at Roman.  

“I’m positive.” Roman grinned wide. “Me and Ricky Bobby have a score to settle.”

“The score is you zero Roman.” Ricky Bobby was smirking under his face mask. “I got my girl back.”  

He had to loosen his grip on your throat to concentrate on the shot he was lining up for Roman. “Get the fuck off. We went on one date.” You elbowed him in the balls. He got off a shot before doubling over. The bullet hit Roman’s shoulder. He let out a pained growl. You tried to run to him. Ricky Bobby grabbed you back.

“Roman!” You screamed.

“He is not taking you from me this time.” Ricky Bobby tried to pull you away.

“She was never yours.” Roman got in his face grabbing the gun and breaking it in half. “She will never be yours. You are repentant for scaring the children. You will let her go. Go outside with your hands held high. Turn yourself in to the sheriff.” He ripped a piece of the man’s dirty white t-shirt off to use on his bloody nose. His head was throbbing. “Let’s go get your children outside Babe. I’ll make sure they forget anything scary they saw.”

“But Roman your hurt.” You looked at the blood stain from the gun shot getting larger on his shoulder. “And you can’t erase ten children when you just did that.”

“Just take me to the White tower if I pass out.” Roman walked into the classroom with you.  

You gathered the children to tell them everything was alright now. They would see their parents outside. Roman smiled as he looked at the children. They trusted him because you did. He calmed their fears. Told them they saw nothing scary. Their teacher kept them safe like they all knew she would. He wobbled as blood gushed from his nose.  He held the already bloody cloth to his nose as you helped him outside with the children holding hands in tow.  

“It is all okay children.” You smiled back at them. Roman got heavier as he drifted out of consciousness. “Peter!” You yelled when you saw him outside with Letha and her group of children.                                                      

He ran over to help you before you dropped Roman. “What the fuck happened?”

He was shot and convinced Ricky Bobby to turn himself in. Then he helped the kids forget their trauma. He said to take him to the white tower.”

Peter swooped Roman up. “They are busy with the shooter. We can get him out of here in the van. You and Letha follow me in the jag if you think you can drive?”

“I’m too shook to drive.” You and Letha both said. She had a blanket around her. You were just shaking from the experience.  

“We can get the jag later.” Peter started walking and you and Letha followed. He put Roman on the back seat. You sat on the floor to hold clean rag over his nose and pressed his gun wound that was already starting to heal.

You were right by Roman’s side when he woke the next day pale but feeling much better. You had dozed off with your head on his not shot shoulder. Pryce told you he took out the bullet. Roman might be sore for another day before being healed. The blood loss was a bigger problem. Roman had to drink as soon as he woke before his thirst led him to hurt someone.You should have taken that as a warning.

You woke to Roman’s hand stroking your hair. His eyes looked far away when you looked at him. “Roman?” You blinked.  

He blinked in time with you. He pulled you up to him. He looked like he didn’t recognize you, but he smiled. More like grinned. His mouth opened revealing his real intentions.  

Pryce ran in with several orderlies pulling you back and strapping Roman down. “We will feed you. Then you will realize she is not your meal. Go get some coffee and lunch young lady. I assure you he will be apologizing when you return.”

You did as Roman’s personal physician told you. The incident scared you but Roman had told you about his affliction and things he used to do before he could control it all. He told you if he ever attacked you you were to decapitate him. It would be the only way. You were glad this was not the day you had to do that to your true love.  

Sure enough, when you returned Roman’s color was better. He started to cry when you were reluctant to get close to him. “I’m so sorry Babe.” Tears rolled out of his beautiful green eyes. “It wasn’t me. I would never hurt you. Please, believe me.”

You slowly approached. This is the same guy that saved a school full of children the day before. As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you into a strong loving embrace. You hugged him back. He still felt the tension in your body.  

Roman caught your gaze. “You woke to me feeling better. You just want to take me home when Dr. Pryce gives the Okay.”

The tension left your body. You smiled at your boyfriend who saved you and children hurting himself in the process. You held him tight kissing his lips. “Oh Roman. I was so worried. I’m glad you are better. You get a hero's welcome when we get home.”

“Thanks Baby.” He smiled as he was wipe a small bit of blood off his top lip.. “I’d like that.”                                                                                                                                                                                              

[eat0crow]

Jasonette Prompt! Mari and Jason first meeting but it’s after a bunch of thugs tried to jump her (she beat them uppp). anyways they’re both in civilian form and she’s validly untrusting and he calms her down.

Bullies count as thugs, right?

116%

Partly by accident, mostly by self-preservation, Jason figures out that, in order to get everyone to stop looking at him like the poor-orphan-charity-case Bruce Wayne had taken in, he needs to instead get them to write him off entirely.

It’s a genius plan. Gotham Academy is nothing if not judgemental. All he has to do is wear his uniform loose, his tie undone, tell everyone exactly how little he thinks of their petty power plays, and get into a screaming match with his xenophobic history teacher about how people working minimum wage, “Absolutely should be making a living wage. Screw you, you bootlicking capitalist fuck!” within the first month of school. Honestly, he’s surprised he lasted that long.

So maybe he’s a little out of line, it’s not like he’s wrong. And it’s all worth it just to see the look on Bruce’s face when he walks into the principal's office. The man’s eyebrows are practically up to his hairline by the time he hears that Jason, in the face of his teacher's warning, had the audacity to ask, “What are you going to do? Expel me? unfucking likely.”

“It’s not like I’m actually going to be expelled,” Jason says. “Half the school’s annual budget comes from the money you donate. If I’m expelled I’ll have to go somewhere else. You’re not going to invest in a school I’m not attending and they’re not going to those funds.”

With unmasked glee, Jason watches the growing horror spread over his principles face-he’s a smart brown-nosing man after all. He knows exactly what kind of trap he’s walking into. It doesn’t matter that Jason’s history teacher is glaring the man down, looking like he's’ just bitten a lemon. Nope, Jason is not going to be expelled.

“Jason,” Bruce, simply sighs, looking far more put out than he has any right to be.

They settle for him being suspended for the rest of the week with detentions taking place after school on Mondays and Wednesdays for the next two months.

As all interesting gossip tends to, the rumor makes its way through the school before the day is even over-rich kids have way too much time on their hands-by the time Jason comes back the following Monday everyone seems to have decided that he’s a troublemaker unhinged just enough to be dangerous.

It marks the end of people trying to suck up to him, they all seem to have collectively decided that if they mind their own business and leave him out of it, he’ll do the same.

The thing about Jason Todd- fourteen-year-old high school freshman- is that he’s really bad at minding his own business. Like Dick’s Discowling suit levels of bad at it. He's a Robin, after all, you couldn’t be a Robin if you were actually able to keep your nose out of where it shouldn't be. It's practically a rule.

Never once has Jason ever had any fondness for bullies, it doesn’t matter if they were school kids or criminals or one percenters-looking at you Jeff Bezos, looking at you. He’s seen enough of them growing up in the Narrows, and maybe, it’s because his dad, the utter asshole, had been a bully. Maybe he just spends too much time fighting against people who think they can get away with pushing their weight around. It doesn’t matter.

Jason Todd could not bring himself to turn a blind eye, which is why by the beginning of his second semester he’s gained the title of actual-punk-you-know-the-kind-who-fight-the-man with his biweekly detentions being upgraded to triweekly and extended indefinitely. The number of fights he’s gotten into in the last couple of months has easily erased whatever Golden Boy standing Dick had established. Jason is confident that the only reason he’s yet to be kicked out is the fact that Bruce had almost doubled his donations.

So really, when he hears raised voices and the distinct sound of someone being thrown against a wall just as he’s leaving detention for the third time this week, he has to investigate.

Disgust is the first thing Jason can register when he turns the corner because there’s a ring of five students- two girls, three guys- all crowded around the new girl from France. Jason’s pretty sure he shares a class or two with her, maybe. She's easy to miss, small as all hell and stick thin.

This, this isn’t a fair fight. Or a fight she even has a chance of winning. Jason has a bad feeling about this.

But-

But Jason takes a closer look. Her back is pressed against the side of the building, yes. Her bag has been thrown to the ground and she’s shaking but that stance, it definitely doesn’t belong to someone who doesn’t know how to defend themselves. Sure these idiots have her backed into a corner, one point them, but her feet are firmly planted on the ground, her back is straight. She’s not going to run, at least, not before she throws a punch and, judging from the way she’s holding herself, a good one too.

Jason doesn’t really know how to approach this. This girl looks like a deer caught in headlights who will spook the second she hears a loud sound. Getting a teacher would be the most sensible thing to do. It would also require leaving, Jason isn’t confident enough in the situation to do that.

He’s almost talked himself into it, sure it might be a little off-brand for him but this seems slightly out of his depth, when Idiot Number Three, the smirking brunette addition, makes a move toward Marinette-Jason only just remembers her name-and Marinette lashes out.

Dead silence overtakes the yard as the girl goes down, her body crumpling to the ground like a wet paper towel. Marinette’s fist is still curled, her arm still outstretched. She looks like she can’t believe what she just did. Everyone stands frozen for one disbelieving moment before one of the guy's snarls, lunging to grab Marinette’s jacket.

If she was a deer in headlights before, Jason isn’t quite sure what to call her now. She looks like she’s on the cusp of a panic attack, frantically babbling a mishmash of jumbled up words. Jason sees what she’s going to do a second before the bully does, but by then it’s too late.

Marinette, with way more force than someone her size should have, brings her knee up and kicks her would-be attacker in the balls. Jason does not want to feel sympathy pains. He doesn’t, but still, if the way Idiot Number Five falls to his knees is any indication...well.

Idiots Numbered One, Two and Four run off without much fanfare taking their downed Idiot Number Three with them. Jason has a distinct impression they’re going to snitch and Marinette, who was only defending herself and is in no way capable of explaining her side of the story right now, is going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

Nope, not on Jason’s watch. He makes his way over. Closing the distance in three precise non-threatening strides. “So I’m thinking, this isn’t exactly what you had planned,” he says lightly.

“Fuck you, Todd.” Eloquent as ever Idiot Number Five.

“No thanks. You seem like you’re having enough fun clutching your balls for the both of us,” he says cooly, crouching down just enough to make eye contact. “Between you and me, I would run if I were you. Before she decides to come and knock your teeth in.”

“Like she would,” the bully scoffs.

“We both know she could and you know I would let her. Hell, I would help her if it kept your mouth fucking shut.” Jason cracks his knuckles, casually pressing his elbow further into the prick's collar bone. “Fuck, I kinda want to do it too. You really piss me off.”

At least he has the good sense to take Jason seriously. Jason can’t help the satisfaction that comes from watching him get to his feet and limp off. Some things really are poetic. Serves the bastard right, even if he promises that, “I’ll get you back for this, Todd.”

Jason snorts, as if he’d worry about what some schoolyard bully was going to do. Have you seen half the lunatics he fights on a monthly basis? “You good?”

“I-no!” Marinette cries, sinking to her knees in shock. “I am so going to be expelled. God, I’m going to be deported. I’ve only been in Gotham for a month! One whole month and already I’ve

messed this up. Momma is never going to let me out of the house. That’s if they don’t send me to jail. Oh, they’re going to send me to jail, aren't they? I can’t go to jail, orange is a terrible color!”

That's ... a lot to unpack. Jason feels something flutter in his chest. He has the strongest desire to comfort her. So, he does the only thing he can think of, he reaches out, wraps his arms around her waist, and promptly gets punched in the face. Hard.

He staggers back, clutching his eye, Jason barely registers Marinette’s steady stream of. “I’m sorry, so sorry I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Self-consciously Jason shrugs, he’s had far worse. The only thing in danger is his ego. “It was my fault. You were literally being threatened a minute ago, I shouldn’t have touched you. Sorry about that.”

“I’m panicking a bit,” Marinette says, pulling at the end of one of her pigtails. “I’m not usually...I just-I don’t want to be expelled.”

“You're not going to be expelled, Hermione,” Jason says dryly. “Yeah, those bastards are going to snitch but you were just defending yourself. They got what they deserved.”

“Do you think anyone’s going to believe that?”

Jason takes a moment to look Marinette over. There is so much earnest hope on her face that Jason...he feels really bad but... “Of course not. You kicked Pattrick Thomson in the balls, his dad’s on the school board. There is no fucking way any one of these teachers is going to believe that he actually got what was coming to him. No matter how much of a prick he is.”

“I’m doomed,” Marinette cries.

“You’re not doomed.” Jason catches Marinette’s look of pure utter disbelief and continues, “You’re not going to be expelled because you’re not the one who is going to be taking the fall for this.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” Jason says scooting down to sit next to Marinette. He makes sure to leave a good foot between them. One black eye is enough, thank you. “Unlike you, I won’t get expelled, trust me this isn’t anywhere close to my first fight. If they could have axed me, they would have like a month in. The good news is that this is the one corner of the school security cameras can’t see. So as long as we make our story sound believable, no one is going to question it.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all going to find it sketchy when no one can agree on who threw the punch.”

“See you would think that but, no offense, you’re a literal wafer cookie. A strong breeze could blow you over. No one is going to believe you took down those idiots. Not when it’s so much easier to blame the one who’s admitting it.”

“I did take them down,” Marinette says, narrowing her eyes.

“And it was badass, but for this to work, we need to milk as many of their sexist assumptions as possible. So,” Jason starts, pressing his hand a little further against his eye, there’s a bit of blood slipping onto his fingers. Marinette got him good. “This is what we’re going to say. We’re going to keep it simple. Tell them that those guys were picking on you and I came over to see what was happening. Things got heated, Thomson punched me in the eye and I bumped into what’s-her-face. You were panicking and didn’t really pay attention until you saw me knee him in the balls. Short, sweet, and believable.”

“What are we going to say when they ask about why everyone is blaming me and not you?”

“Well, why were they bothering you in the first place.” Jason shrugs reaching out to grab some of the stray papers that had fallen from Marinette’s bag. “Just use that. Trust me, Thomson’s going to jump at the chance to save face. Once he changes his story the rest will follow.”

Marinette grimaces. “It feels wrong.”

“Please,” Jason snorts. “They’re rich, they’re cheating at life. They’d get away with murder if they dropped their wallets. You could tell them all exactly what happened word for word and the teachers would still only hear their side of the story.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s Gotham.”

Marinette falters, as if she wants to dispute the inherent corruption of this city. She stares at Jason, who would probably be blushing if it wasn’t for the excruciating pain coming from his right eye.

“You’re sure.” Marinette bites her lip, nervously picking at her nails. “You’re absolute, one hundred and twelve percent sure you won’t be expelled.”

“I’m one hundred and sixteen percent sure,” Jason says and then Marinette smiles.

It’s a nice smile, Jason doesn’t think he’s ever experienced the full force of someone's relief before.

“Thank you.” Sincerity is dripping off every word, so much so it almost aches. “I-you’re really nice Jason.”

Marinette knows his name. That’s-not necessarily surprising given the act that yeah they do share classes, probably. It’s just this is the first time they’ve talked.

“It’s cool,” Jason says leaning further back into the wall. He can hear people coming, it won’t be long before they have teachers to deal with. Jason might as well get comfortable. “You’re Marinette, right? I think we have English….Math..something together.”

Marinette nods, scooting closer to him. “Yeah, I’m Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I sit three rows over in Math and two seats up in English.”

“It’s nice to meet you Marinette. Officially.” Jason takes the hand off of his eye and holds it out to her. “Jason Todd.”

Slowly, Marinette’s smile slowly morphs into a look of pure horror. “You’re eye!”

[lovehugsandcandy]

One-on-One (ColtxMC, n*fw)

A/N: So the incomparable @omgjasminesimone has been keeping us FED rn (thank you, you are AMAZING) and then I saw there was a ColtxMC prompt she couldn’t fill (and I completely understand why) and...well....I hate to see my Colt stans go hungry. This is the AU scenario for “I’m a cheerleader, and you play basketball for the rival school. We’ve never spoken, but when you smile and wink at me like that I have a very hard time remembering not to cheer for you.” Anon, this is n*fw but, if that’s not your thing, lmk and I can easily cut that part out.

Length: ~3,500 words (why can’t I write something short, why why why?)

Rating: N*FW (Sex. Swearing. Fighting. Blood. Stupidity.)

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Summary: Ellie cheers for the Langston basketball team, wholly focused on supporting them....right?

“I’ll be right back, I swear.”

“I can’t believe you-” The swinging doors cut Ingrid off as Ellie hustled out of the Langston basketball court. They had thirty minutes until the game started; the least she could do was get some studying done.

The opposing team filed past her as she rushed by, fresh off the bus and heading to their locker room. A few of the guys gave her the eye-God, she hated how short these skirts were- but she ignored them, ducking into the tiny room the Langston cheerleaders had commandeered as their own, quickly nabbing her textbook from her locker. 

When she emerged, chiding herself to return the book clutched to her chest before the game began, the hallway was empty except for one lone player, slowly making his way up the hall, eyes glued to his phone. The basketball jersey revealed very toned arms, but he didn’t even see her until he almost walked into her.

“Excuse you.” He looked up and Ellie froze as intense eyes widened above sculpted cheekbones. Her heart beat faster as he sized her up, smirking. “Quantum Mechanics. Really.”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. Well, he was cute...before he spoke. “You think cheerleaders are all dumb or something?”

“You said it, sweetheart, not me.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, your sport is clapping for other people while they do sports,” he scoffed. “I’m not sure that intelligence-”

“I will have you know that cheerleading is physically demanding and mentally taxing.”

He raised his arms, palms up, placating her with a nod. “I’m not saying it isn’t. Christ, I’m not blind. I know how hard it is. I just think that, with all the talent and hard work, you all would realize that you’re capable of much more than sitting courtside.”

She opened her mouth and paused. It seemed like there was a backhanded compliment somewhere in there, but she was too taken aback to parse through the sass.

“Ha,” he taunted, “especially sitting courtside while we kick Langston’s ass.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not gonna-”

“Oh, it’ll happen.”

“You so sure about it?”

“I am.” His eyes lingered on her face, stopping intently on her lips before pulling back up to meet her glare. “How about this?” He stepped closer and Ellie suddenly realized how alone they were. The hallway was completely deserted; the other players were in their locker rooms, the spectators were waiting for the first jump, and it was just her and this mysterious, challenging rival. “Let’s make a bet on it, then.”

“You’re on.”

“Ok…” He smiled, a slow widening of his lips; her stomach lurched. “If we win, you give me a kiss.”

“What?” she sputtered.“You’re not gonna win.”

“Oh, we will.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ok. Fine. And when Langston wins?”

“Then I give you a kiss.”

“What?!? No way! It sounds like you always win here.”

“Oh, no.” He stepped even closer to positively purr in her ear. “You always win. Cuz I’m gonna kiss you so good you forget your own name.” Her breath caught as his teeth slid down her earlobe and she had to stop her traitorous fingers from curving in the number on his jersey.

He stepped back with a smirk, and Ellie had to consciously force breath through suddenly dry lips. With a wink, he turned down the hallway; she had to wait for her heart to stop racing until her feet followed.

~~~~~

Ellie tried to ignore him, but it was practically impossible. She was supposed to be cheering for her own school, but the mysterious boy was omnipresent, all over the court and her thoughts. Every time their eyes met, he shot her a wink, whether he was sitting on the bench, jogging up-court after a layup, or once even mid-pass, flipping the ball behind a defender while his eyes were solely trained on her.

She couldn’t focus. She could barely pay attention to her own team when it felt like her eyes were searching for his every second.

The worst was during the halftime show, when his haughty gaze found hers mid-split. The quirk of his eyebrows and the way his eyes suggestively traced down her legs made it very clear exactly what he was thinking. 

And if it wasn’t, the lascivious, exaggerated wink left no doubt.

Her face burned through the rest of the routine and she was grateful to slump to her seat, her roommate sliding next to her.

“Did Colt Kaneko just wink at you?”

Ellie took a giant gulp of water, stalling, as Ingrid’s suspicious eyes poured into her. “Who?”

“Who?!? Colt Kaneko, that’s who. He’s only the best point guard in the state.”

Ellie shrugged. She wasn’t blind; he obviously had talent. He was fast, weaving between defenders as if they were standing still. His passes were on target, and he shot a decent three. But his biggest talent, as far as she could tell, was his brain. He read the court well, seemingly able to project where a Langston player would sprint and then pass the ball a split-second before they arrived, leaving them flailing in midair. It was almost surgical, the way he presciently  mapped the progression of the play before it occurred, as if he could read minds.

She was almost impressed.

His talents continued through the entire game until, eight minutes into the fourth period, the Langston center lunged hard, roughly fouling Colt at the arc; Ellie winced as they both went crashing down, shrill shriek of sneakers and thud of bodies on parquet audible even over the ref’s whistle.

“What the fuck?” Colt was up like a shot, on his feet and livid, the Langston center following, jerkily, gargantuan hands tucked into weighty fists. “What the fuck was that foul?”

“You got a problem, man?”

She sucked in a breath as the indistinct jawing turned into shoving. “Colt!” she shouted but it was lost in the jeering of the crowd. Their center had almost a foot on him; what the hell was he even thinking?

The ref raced over, whistle screaming shrilly in his mouth, but he wasn’t fast enough, The shoves turned into a full-on brawl, fists flying in a crowd of muscled bodies as more and more players joined in. She leapt to her feet but, in the rush of jerseys, it was hard to see exactly what was happening, both teams crowding around, obscuring her view of the fight at the center.

Finally, when the refs got the situation under control, her heart dropped. Colt was still furious, the blood streaming down his face not stopping him from a heated conversation with the ref, while the Langston center fared no better, hand covering a cut on his forehead while his split lip looked like it would need stitches.

They were both led away, ejected, Colt gesturing sharply the entire way. But right before they showed him the door, he looked back, eyes searching the crowd until they met hers. His face fell, and he had the sense to look ashamed for a moment before he was herded out the door.

~~~~~

Ellie’s leg bounced, nervously waiting for the final whistle. She kept cheering, pom-poms high in the air, but it was half-hearted. Langston was down by five and, with no fouls to give and no timeouts, the ending was basically locked up. Once the stopwatch clanged, groans roaring from the crowd as the Langston loss was official, she sprang to her feet, relieved that the game was finally over. With a weak goodbye to Ingrid thrown over her shoulder, she pushed through the crowd, heading away from exits, down the deserted halls towards the locker rooms.

A crowd of opposing players bounced by her, jauntily celebrating their victory, but she paid them no mind, turning the corner and stopping short as she spied a familiar figure reclining on a bench, long legs sprawled on the tile floor as he held a towel to his nose.

His eyes widened, and he stood as she approached. “You came...” His voice caught with wonder until a familiar smirk split his face. “I thought I lost my shot.”

“You are an idiot.”

“Hey! An idiot who kicked Langston’s ass.”

“What?!? You got ejected from the game!  It devolved into a fistfight between two absolute  morons!”

“We still won though.” He stood, blood-stained towel dabbing at his nose. “So where’s my kiss?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you- urgh. Your nose is still bleeding. I’m not- Christ, come here.” She grabbed his bicep and pulled, fingers digging into the cut of solid muscle as she dragged him through the door of the visitor’s locker room.

“I’m not so sure you’re supposed to be in here.”

“Shut it.” She sped by the lockers to the bathroom, walking past the showers to grab some toilet paper. “Let me see.”

He stood dutifully still as she swiped at his nose, hand on his chin turning his face side-to-side as she assessed the bruising. The blood had stopped flowing, thankfully, a tiny stain of red under one nostril all that remained of his stupid brawl.

“You’re lucky it’s not broken,” she huffed

He shrugged. “Would have been worth it.”

He was so close to her, again, a wall of heat and muscle in front of her, looking down with a gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.”You’d break your nose for a win?"

“Or for a kiss.”

She was beginning to hate that smirk...or hate how much she liked it. Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward, meeting his lips in the briefest of pecks. When she stepped back, his jaw dropped. “You really did it…” he wondered aloud.

She quirked a shoulder, turning to go. “Why not?” A hand on her arm stopped her and, in the next instant, his lips were on hers faster than she could process. Her previous quick kiss meant nothing. But this? God. His lips captured hers as if he had been waiting all game just to swallow the needy moans from her mouth. Her hands flew to his hair, silken strands tangling in her fingers as his palms wrapped around her hip bones, pulling her flush against him as his lips never left hers, tongue teasing the seam until her lips parted, making her brain short circuit.

He pulled back and her eyes fluttered open, breath coming fast. “Wait, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Uhh...Ellie?”

“Dammit. You still remember.” And with that, sturdy hands were pushing her against the wall so his lips could meet hers again, pulling the breath from her lungs before sliding up her jaw, down her neck, teasing bites and kisses making her tangle her hands in his jersey, pulling him closer. Grinding her hips, she felt his cock twitch and her head fell back against the wall, heat flaring up her spine.

“Colt?” Oh my God, her voice was weak, barely a whine, and she would have been embarrassed had his hands not been tracing winding paths up the back of her shirt, sliding between uniform and skin in a blazing trail of heat. She pulled again on his jersey, tucking her hands underneath to trace the sculpted muscles hiding beneath. “Colt, please?”

She almost complained at the loss of his mouth on her neck when he ducked away; but when she caught sight of him pulling his shirt over his head, the words caught in her mouth. He was all lean muscle, broad shoulders, cut abs, and her fingers twitched to trace down the v-shape that led into his shorts.

“Goddamn,” she murmured.

The haughty grin was back. “Like what you see?”

She didn’t answer, only pulled him closer to trail desperate fingertips past the elastic of his shorts, teasing at soft skin, and it was like a switch had been flipped. He yanked her shirt over her head, sports bra flying away next as his lips descended to suck a nipple into his mouth. Sneakers were next, kicked off as his teeth dug possessively into her stomach before going even lower, kneeling as his lips stopped at the waist of her cheer skirt.

“Fuck, I like this skirt,” he growled, palms running up her inner thigh. “I’m gonna fuck you in it next time.”

“Next time?” She could barely speak. Fuck, she could barely breathe. “What next time?”

“They’ll be a next time,” he vowed, and the smirk was back as he pulled, shucking every stitch off her and himself before he returned to the ground, tongue tracing a meandering path up her thighs as she shivered, pulling at his hair as his mouth edged closer, until finally, finally, his lips slid over sensitive skin, then through her folds, then zeroing in on her clit, gentle suction making her eyes fly shut.

Body quivering, her vision went dark as her nails dug sharp crescents into his shoulders. She tried to pull him closer, fingers moving with a mind of their own as his tongue found her clit and the room spun. Thank God he was holding her up, strong hands spread over her thighs, pressing her against the wall; she was inches from melting into the floor, his tongue flicking against where she was most sensitive and drawing designs that made her nerves sing in response. She was so focused on her peak, hurtling towards her like a freight train, that she almost didn’t hear the slamming of the locker room door.

“Kaneko? You still in here?”

She opened her eyes, struggling to get air in her lungs. “Shit! I’m not supposed to be-”

“I know, I know,” he whispered and stood, eyes frantically searching the room before he pulled her into a shower stall, quickly shoving the dingy curtain shut behind them.

“What are you-?”

“Shhh,” he hissed and turned the shower on, boxing her against the wall.

“He’s gonna-”

His hands were on her bare waist and she swallowed as he leaned against her. “Shhh, he’s not gonna come in here.” The water was falling behind him, a steady stream turning warmer and sluicing over the back of his head. 

She put her hands through his wet hair and pulled him closer. “Fine,” she murmured into his mouth before finding his lips again.

“Kaneko, you in here?”

Colt pulled back and glared at the flimsy curtain, all that separated her from definite expulsion from the cheer team. “Yeah, Coach,” he called, “I’m in the shower.”

The footsteps got closer. “Uh oh. He’s gonna see my feet,” Ellie hissed, peering through the steam starting to fill the stall. She couldn’t see anyone but there was movement, steadily getting closer, and her fingers tensed into his sides.

He stared at her, question in his eyes, hands traveling to the back of her thighs.

She stared back for a beat before nodding. “Please. God, yes, please.”

His lip quirked and, before she knew it, he lifted, picking her up so her back hit the wall, her legs circled around his waist, and his cock slowly slide through her folds. She had to bite his shoulder to muffle the whimper from her mouth as his cock stretched her walls, back arching, legs tightening, every part of her pulling him even closer as he thrust..

“Fuck…” he growled in her ear, “you feel incredible.”

“What did you say?” the Coach shouted.

“I said,” Colt coughed, and it took him a second to compose his voice. “I said...let me finish my shower.”

The footsteps stopped. Ellie heard a weary sigh just outside the room; she didn’t dare to move, to breathe, though it was hard to stifle the sounds when Colt swiveled his hips in tiny circles. “The bus leaves in five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” Colt smirked at her and another pivot had her mouth falling open. “I mean, I hope I’m not that quick.”

“What? Just….just hurry the fuck up.” Thankfully, the steps receded until the locker room door slammed.

“That was close.” Colt breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought he would never leave.”

“Colt?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me.”

“Demanding…” He rolled his hips again and her back pushed against him, wordlessly begging for more. The tile behind her was cool but she was burning, fire of his hands tight on her thighs, his lips tracing scorching lines down her jaw, flame engulfing every nerve endings. Even the water couldn’t cool her as it continued falling, soaking his hair, tiny rivulets dripping off his face and onto her chest; Colt followed each one with his tongue as his hips moved, demanding, pushing her back against the wall with each targeted thrust.

“Colt...oh my God, Colt, please!”

“I love how you moan my name, fuck.” He moved faster, and she clung to him. The rhythm of his hips was making needy sounds pour out of her mouth and, now, she didn’t have to be quiet. His name echoed off the bathroom tile, in a frenzied tone she had never heard leave her throat, and she dimly hoped that everyone else was far, far from the locker room hallway.

“Fuck, Ellie.” He moved, somehow balancing her against the wall while one hand slid down her stomach, then lower, thumb finding her clit. She keened. She couldn’t think, his cock driving inside her, his thumb keeping a steady frantic beat against her, it was all too much; all she could do was cling to his shoulders as he swiveled his hips just so and the world exploded, stars raining down where water had been, her body shaking so wildly that she almost missed Colt’s groan in her ear, strained and gruff as he pulsed inside her.

The world stopped spinning and was eventually, blessedly still. The only sound was the shower, water pattering against tile, and the soft breath, low in her ear. She felt drained, weak in the best way, and she let her head fall against the wall as Colt peeled off of her. Her legs were spasming when he lowered her to the ground; she had to clutch his shoulder with a tight fist before she regained the ability to move.

When her legs were able to support her weight, he stepped back into the spray of the water, shaking his head so water streamed in wild droplets from his hair before he pulled her under as well, folding muscular arms around her waist as the warm water poured through her hair.

“So…” he mused, running his hands down her back. “Quantum Physics? Really?”

“What is your problem?” She pushed at his shoulder. “Apparently cheerleaders can be smart too, you know.”

“Hey, no problem here. I like smart girls.”

“Then yes, Quantum Physics. I’m a Biomechanical Engineering major.”

“Damn. Sexy.”

Her head shot up, and it took a second to realize that he was being genuine, warmth in his eyes making her flush. She swallowed. “What’s your deal, then? Ingrid said you’re the best point guard in the state.”

He shrugged. “Is that your blond friend?”

“How did you….oh yeah. You watched me all freaking game.”

“I noticed you before that.” The tips of his ears reddened. Ellie blinked.

“What...what do you mean?”

“We played you earlier in the season, back home.” He shrugged, fixing his gaze on the knob as he turned the shower off. “All the other cheerleaders hung outside, flirting with the players. And you were studying on the bus.”

Ellie stared at his back as he pushed through the curtain “Wait a minute…” They had traveled upstate, earlier in the season, but she barely remembered the trip. She had spent the entire time cramming, spending every spare second with her nose in formulas and problem sets. “I had a big orgo test the next day.”

He shrugged, handing her a towel as she stepped out. “I scored 30 points, and you didn’t even look at me.”

“Maybe you need to do more than that to impress me.”

“Noted.” He held her gaze so long that she had to look away, fiddling with her skirt before sliding it over her hips.

“We should…” She tried not to blush but the way he was gawking at her, watching her put her uniform back on? It was a struggle. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and tossed his towel in the hamper. As he passed by her, he muttered, “Damn shame though.” She chuckled ruefully as she watched him open a locker and dig out a change of clothes.

Once they were both as decent as possible, they headed back out into the hall, heading towards the entrance. She was cognizant that each step towards the door was a step closer to the end of this fling. 

“You gonna be at nationals?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, biting his lip.

“Yeah, definitely.” Langston only had to win one more game to make it to the playoffs; with five games left in the season, it was a lock. “We’re gonna win it all this year.”

He pushed the door open, and they stepped into the blinding sun. “Really?”

“Even if I have to get on the court myself, we’re beating you.” His bus was waiting, the coach busy scribbling on a clipboard.

“Ha. A little one-on-one?” Gentle fingers circled her wrist, and he pulled her closer, smirk back on his face. “I could take you.”

“You sure about that?”

“Guess we’ll have to see.” He tilted her head up to capture her lips again; Ellie could dimly hear shouting coming from the bus but, with his fingers stroking up the back of her shirt to tease bare skin, it didn’t matter. Nothing did except his lips on hers and the roaring in her ears. “I’m gonna get in trouble for cavorting with the enemy.” He spoke against her mouth and she had to taste the smile on his lips, one last time.

“Especially if we win at Nationals.”

He squeezed her fingers between his own before walking over to the bus. She had just turned away when he called after her, “How ‘bout this?” 

“What?” She stopped to look over her shoulder, taking in the laughing smirk and gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll see you at Nationals. And if we win, you owe me a kiss.”

.

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[ifyouvegotthemoneyhoney]

Sunset Love ch. 8: The hour before dawn

AN: Here’s the next part in my Slaxl fic. Hope you like it! If you do, please Reblog, share, Like, etc. xx

***

Slash sucked deeply on the reefer someone had passed him, leaned back his head and blew up a long, slow stream of aromatic smoke at the sky. 

It was sometime in the darkest part of the night, before dawn. His head swirled as he surveyed the blackness above. The noise in the lot outside their rehearsal space off Sunset and Gardner - music from a ghetto blaster, voices, laughter, bottles breaking, cans crunching, grunts from people fucking - was all around him, but he felt remote from it, disconnected.

A dull pain rumbled somewhere in his gut. He couldn't identify it ... He closed his eyes. Oh yes. He remembered. He had fucked some chick and Axl was giving him the silent treatment. In fact, he hadn't seen him since they left the Whisky.

Rage swelled in Slash's throat. He had known this ... thing... between him and Axl was a bad idea. He shook his head. He had been drunk, high, lonely, let his guard down... whatever. And now look where they were: Axl breaking his balls, acting like a fucking teenage girl. 

He shoved the reefer into someone's hand and pushed his way through the crowd in the lot, looking around him. He was going to have it out with that motherfucker once and for all.

He searched all over the lot and the alley. No sign. Slash elbowed his way past some people and pushed through the half-open door to their rehearsal space. He heard a female voice moaning and looked up to the loft. In the half-light cast by a lamp on the floor, he made out Axl, his face buried in some girl's breasts, his ass humping energetically between her thighs. 

Slash stood, frozen, for a second. Axl must have heard him come in because he lifted his head. When he saw it was Slash, an expression crossed his face... what was it? Through the haze in his head, Slash realised it was... vengeful.

Slash stumbled out the door. Appalled, he felt tears pricking behind his eyeballs. What the fuck? He wasn't seriously upset? 

He went and stood at end of the alley where it opened into Gardner Street, the party roaring  behind him. He pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket, lit up with shaking hands, inhaled and closed his eyes. 

Footsteps on the ground behind him. A rough hand at his shoulder, pulling him around.

They stood facing each other. Slash sucked coolly on his cigarette. Its brief glow highlighted  Axl's face, his lips pressed together in a snarl. No fucking way am I saying anything, thought Slash. Let's see if the amazing lyricist has the balls to talk first.

Slash couldn't help smirking when Axl opened his mouth.

"Your little performance in the Whisky didn't mean shit to me, asshole."

Slash couldn't help having a little fun. He widened his eyes. 

"You didn't like my playing?"

Axl's eyes narrowed and Slash saw the muscles in his jaw tighten.

"Funny. Making eyes at that chick all night. Making sure everyone saw you going into the restrooms with her. Acting like the big fucking stud coming back out." 

Axl shoved his hands into the back pockets of his leather trousers. He was clearly trying hard to be cool but his chest was heaving.

Slash frowned.

"Are you kidding, man? That chick gave me the eye first, not the other way around. And I don't give a fuck who did or didn't see." 

Slash exhaled his last drag and ground the cigarette under his toe. He steeled himself. He was going to say it.

"What the fuck do you care, anyway? We fuck chicks, that's what we do, what we've always done. I did it tonight, you did it tonight. Who gives a fuck?"

Axl was looking at his own toes now. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and turned away. 

Slash turned away too and looked down Gardner at the intersection with Sunset Boulevard. A solitary car sped through, going west, and disappeared into the night. The low, ever-present, night-time hum resumed. There were hours to go yet before the day's din began. 

His head ached. A familiar emptiness was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. What was he doing with his life?

"Slash." 

That voice. That deep rumble. It made his goofy nickname sound like poetry.

"I -". 

An exhale, almost like a gasp. Slash looked around. Axl's back was still turned, he was still looking at the ground. Was he actually stuck for words?

"What?" snapped Slash, a harsh tone to his voice. He wasn't going to make it easy.

Another exasperated breath.

"I - I didn't like it." Another pause before Axl continued. "You and the chick in the Whisky. It - it made me pretty fucking pissed. Okay? You happy now?"

Slash felt warmth seep through his belly. Axl was jealous and... Slash realised he liked it.

Axl's arm was cold when Slash reached out and pulled him around as Axl had done to him minutes before. He folded the other man into his arms.

"Jesus fucking Christ," hissed Axl. Slash felt himself being pushed roughly up against the wall around the corner from the alley opening. 

"D'you want someone to see us?" Axl demanded, his face close to Slash's.

For a split second he thought Axl was about to beat the shit out of him. Then he felt the other man enveloping him in his arms and burying his face in Slash's neck. 

Slash slowly circled his arms around Axl's sinewy torso and stroked the back of Axl's head, equal mixtures of relief and arousal flooding through him.

"I'm fucking pissed at you, too," he said softly into Axl's hair.

He felt Axl's ribcage contort with a chuckle. 

"That girl there?" Axl's voice came muffled against the fabric on Slash's shoulder. "I totally did that to get back at you, man."

Slash held his friend tight, drinking in his scent, a sweet blend of sex, sweat, smoke, whisky, and something else, something undefinable that was just pure Axl. His head was swimming again, but not from weed this time. Axl had shown vulnerability. 

Slash felt Axl lift his head and slowly, cautiously, touch the tip of his nose to Slash's. That cute, adorable nose. Slash gently kissed it, the soft skin around it, then moved his lips down. Their mouths met hesitantly, almost carefully, as if they were mindful not to hurt each other again. The kiss deepened slowly as they held each other even more tightly, Axl's pillowy lips so incredibly soft and yielding, Slash drinking in the taste of him. Their tongues found each other and intertwined, harder now, searching inside each other's mouths more urgently, hands grasping in each other's hair. 

Axl pulled his mouth away, his breath coming hot and fast.

"I want you, Slash," he whispered, pushing his forehead against Slash's, eyes closed.

"I want you too," said Slash.

Without another word, they made for their door in the alley, heads down, not looking at anyone. A quick glance inside showed it was empty. Axl pulled the door shut after him and fumbled for his keychain in the dim lamplight. Slash heard the grind of the lock in the metal door.

Their bodies slammed together, hands everywhere, pushing off clothes, pulling at belt buckles. Slash yanked off Axl's pants, followed by his own. He had never felt such want; he wanted all of Axl, every part of him, now. Their mouths sucked at each other greedily, teeth pierced delicate lips, the taste of blood tinged Slash's tongue and it was good, so good. 

"Loft," panted Axl.