#well fuck me gently with a chainsaw. its all going to go to shit this season isnt it :

[mayoiayasep]

:////////

[velvetvexations]

But they still use the n-word, anon. They still use the n-word. Yet you think that years and years ago they were so worried about being "challenged" on grounds of transphobia ("transmisogyny" was not in widespread use at the time) that they felt the need to change their language? Even though they still, to this day, use the n-word.

You're an idiot.

And yes, actually, GNC boys who present in a feminine matter does affect things! You can't seriously pretend that every single depiction of an AMAB person wearing women's clothing could only ever possibly be a trans woman or based on trans women. That's not only ahistorical and erases real people right in front of you, but it also gets fucking racist as hell when you start imposing that view on other countries. Did you know, for instance, that "kathoey", the term "ladyboy" is a translation of, is generally used by people who self-identify as men? Because I'm guessing the answer is "no."

Femboys are and have always been a thing, stop fucking erasing them and appropriating their language just because you desperately want the world to revolve around you.

So many young trans girls are going to come out of this traumatized from the dooming, isolated and potentially trapped in abusive relationships because they'd been indoctrinated into the belief that only other trans women will ever love and support them.

The problem is that it has "fab" in there, so they can't do it like they're trying to do with femboy because it inherently points to "TMEs."

(2/2 ana mardoll) i really dont mind when trans women genuinely criticize specific terrible shit that a trans man has actually done, and mardoll has always been a fucking loser who does all the stereotypical negative shit that people tend to act like trans men do. i just wish people would not act like its standard behavior to be like that and judge us all on the basis of the worst of our community lmao. this is behavior that goes both ways tho, trans men judge trans women like this too. idk lol

The person I've seen most accused of being a ringleader was Neon Yang, who was definitely not that even though they contributed. The one I most remember was the trans woman who said something to the effect of "yeah well it didn't sound like the author was trans so I was completely justified actually" and that drives me up a wall because the transradfem girlies are going to lose their mind when I post the first chapter of Nursed with Kerosine.

I have to answer them mostly in batches, with a few exceptions, because I get so many.

@ratbastarddotfuck

Imagine if everyone just decided to start saying a PoC who votes Republican is white.

It's going to be difficult for them to ever actually make a callout post for me because they can screenshot my takes but there will never be a single piece of evidence that I've ever harassed anyone and they know it.

It's not just about taking it seriously, but it's extremely repellent just as content and can be severely triggering, which it would have been for me if I hadn't watched it when I was a teenager before The Deeplore Trauma settled into my bones. I don't think I can even get into the later stuff now because of the association.

But fuck me gently with a chainsaw, everything else about it should be immensely cool and it sucks it's not in something that isn't weighed down by that.

Explicitly using dysphoria as a plot point like that is interesting and does sound like good fuel for a transfem headcanon.

No, it isn't, the only thing being discussed is whether he fits the criteria for "TMA" or not, and he does.

Buffalo Bill is not a stereotype of trans women, and in fact I applaud and deeply appreciate the author for making that crystal clear and treating trans people with great respect and sympathy for the time in which it was written, but he became the model for a stereotype of trans women that transphobes have taken and ran with since the day the the movie came out.

[commaclear]

dear prying anon who accused me and cqaa of being gay for one another

din jævla fitte, din avlyttingssug

din jævla fitte, din avlyttingstispe how DARE you come over here and analyse me? if im being honest im entertained not mad but I have been waiting SO LONG to cuss someone out in Norwegian

I am going to analyse your analasys so suck it rævatryne

"whos to say they wouldnt fall for the second biggest whore to"

who are you calling second biggest whore huh? how fucking dare you. that pretty face of yours could use some bruises. /j

"also ÆÆs whole thingy is power or whatever"

well yes, but actually no. I live for the drama darling, power is nice too.

"cqaa is either absolutely head over heels for qaa or a hardcore qaa anti there is no inbetween"

so true bestie

"but what im trying to say is that if ÆÆs goal is power and cqaas type is harlots and whores then yk it would just kinda check out that they are walking circles around each other for more reasons other than just hatred"

wow, I uh actually hadn't thought about it like that. shit, mabye I AM gay for my rival? oh fuck me gently with a chainsaw

"qaa was flashing their tits at ÆÆ and ÆÆ was absolutely devoted to them"

...look I know that form a logical standpoint I should shut it and let my reputation heal or at the very least say this on anon, but like have you forgetting about the wedding fiasco? LISTEN I KNOW THIS IS A BAD IDEA BUT I MEAN, ya knoowww *vauge hand gestures* do I really have to say it?

"the stalking is kinda just very yk gay"

yeah, cant argue with that. that was pretty gay of me ngl

"ÆÆ doesnt like cqaa that much"

*presses buzzer* WRONG. WRONG WRONG WRONG INCORECT.

yes, at first I hated their guts but that has changed DRASTICALLY, sure, Im not nice to them, and while that could be mistaken for dislike its far from it. im obsessed and not afraid to admit it.

have you seen them? so weird, so interesting, so complex. of course I want to know everything about them and evoke every reaction and understand how their brain ticks and make them care about me and perceive me and make sure that they think about me every single day through any means neccecary

but thats just how everyone feels about their arch Nemisis? thats not gay? shut up, no its NOT! I CAN HEAR YOU SHUT UP IM NOT GAY FOR CQAA

"but i feel like and all of this was to say there is something homoerotic about it all"

SHHHHUT, UP.

-ÆÆ, who is not gay for cqaa at all

/rp

Damn, that's embarrassing for you

Imagine getting analyzed like that, could never be me

[transmasc-wizard]

autism? autism! me too!!! wanna rant about your special interests? go for it!

hello fellow autistic individual

be warned im about to talk a FUCK TON, specifically about the raven cycle. this post will very much need a "readmore" to keep it from clogging dashes

ANYWAY

the raven cycle is a YA urban fantasy quartet by maggie stiefvater published between 2012 and 2016, which also has a spinoff series "the dreamer trilogy" but ive only read the first Dreamer so far; i have a signed copy of the 2nd and am mildly worried ill ruin it. i first read TRC last year in july and am actually currently doing my 3rd read (via audiobook this time). So what is it about, you ask??? WELL

TRC stars 5 teenagers--Adam Parish, Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey, Blue Sargent, and Noah Czerny. the boys meet blue at a restaurant and somehow drag her into their "quest"--find the body of Owen Glendower in the hills of virginia and wake him up. They want to do this because when gansey was 10 he died via wasp stings and was brought back to life with the voice of glendower talking to him and now he's OBSESSED with finding glendower. Along the way we find out Blue is gonna kill her true love, and that guy probably is gansey (who only has a year to live).

u may be thinking, 'alright, cool plot, but why special interest-worthy?" and i shall gently yell BECAUSE ITS THE BEST WRITING AND CHARACTERIZATION IVE EVER COME ACROSS

Maggie stiefvater knows how to make the best characters, like, ever, because she doesnt do the typical YA thing of "oh uwu here are their flaws: theyre too nice, too sweet, too naive". she's got shit like "purposely failing school" & "stupid about money and insensitive to friends about it" and "refuses to ask for help" and "drinks to cope", y'know, things that are actually flaws to overcome.

they've also all got amazing little traits just-to-them; blue really likes trees, layers her clothing, loves yogurt, is the only non-psychic in a family of them, & shreds her shirts to make them look more interesting. Ronan races cars, knows how to farm, LOVES his little pet bird (named Chainsaw btw), and grapples with being religious (catholic) vs being gay. Noah is quiet and "smudgy" and doesn't eat enough (because he doesnt. actually. have a stomach or like an actual brain really thats another thing tho). Gansey loves his journal and is terrified of wasps and eats avacado on his pizza and is really good at finding things. Adam wears a coca-cola shirt and is super focused around money (bc he Has None) and lives above a church and helps ronan do stupid shit. like, this is the stuff i thought of within 30 seconds for each character, and most of that alone is in the 1st book. like, it gets even more thorough as it goes on.

and the WRITING. i know exactly what the inside of gansey's car looks like and it wasnt boring to learn that. like, i still remember that stiefvater described that there's CDs in the backseat and beef jerky thats long expired and too many receipts. I remember 300 fox way (blue's house) doesnt have a single man living there and that there's a sewing-phone-cat room. I remember monmouth (gansey's house) was a factory but it's unknown what it produced but there's scorch marks on the walls and really high ceilings. I know blue adores the stars and trees and i know persephone (blue's mother's friend) listens to angry PHD music. Like, this was all peppered in casually but written in such a gripping way that its lodged in my brain. i was never once bored reading TRC, and ive gotten bored reading almost every other book, even the ones i love.

and the MAGIC is so cool, there's psychics and trees that speak (but only in latin!) and dragons made of fire that came out of people's heads and demon bugs and weird sticky stuff that tears apart the world. it's not all explained, and i love that, because it's explained enough that i'm satisfied but i don't somehow know more than all the characters combined.

... anyway i realize ive practically written an essay, and also i have to do my nano shit now cause theres not a ton of hours left in the day, but!!! soul is doing the smiley emote!! because raven cycle!!

anyway everyone should read it, it's very very cool

(also i will be posting my Autistic Gansey Theory at some point)

good day to all

[vpyre]

From Above and Below, Face to Face and Behind (Grelle x Reader)

Anticipation. That was the feeling coursing through me, setting my nerves alight and sharpening my focus. My heart pounded in my ears and I grinned as I brandished my weapon -an elegant, double-bladed scythe- and dropped into a wide ready stance. I faced down a smirking Grelle and watched as she adjusted her scarlet coat with a flourish and readied her own weapon. I could’ve sensed her smug confidence from a mile away. She did, after all, have more experience than me since I’d only been a Reaper for a decade or two. I wasn’t about to chicken out though. I'd scored mostly A's in my intro training, and besides, you should never underestimate those with something to prove.

There was a second of charged stillness. Another. Then a flurry of movement as she surged towards me.

I ducked, and her roaring chainsaw came swinging through the air right where my head had been. I felt my pulse spike with the sudden rush of adrenaline, and my grin widened. Rolling with my momentum, I sprung up and went for a headbutt, but she spun away with graceful agility. As she turned; eyes shining with excitement, scarlet hair streaming out behind; her scythe followed in a streak of gleaming silver, arcing downwards at me.

There was no time to dodge it. Instinct kicked in and my own blade came up to meet it. The resulting CLANG sent a shockwave up my arms, but the sound itself was almost lost amid the cacophony of murmuring spectators, blows, grunts, and clashing Death Scythes echoing off the pale sparring room walls. Grimacing in discomfort, I angled my weapon down and away, which sent hers sliding off with an excruciating screech of metal on metal, overbalancing her. She stumbled and I swung down at her exposed back, but in a blur of speed, she recovered and snapped her chainsaw around behind her, intercepting my strike with another ringing crash.

Grelle's vibrant chartreuse eyes met mine over her shoulder and she languidly turned to face me as she held my scythe away with hers; a casual display of the immense strength her lithely muscled figure held. I saw my own ardor mirrored in the fire of her gaze, and there was a wildness to her razor smile as she drawled,

”I’m impressed, my dear! It’s only been a moment since we began and I very nearly fell head over heels. Though, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait if you want me on my knees for you.”

My racing heart skipped a beat at the thought, but I forced my mind back on track. If she thought she could throw me off with innuendo, she was mistaken (though I wasn't complaining. Seeing her on her knees would be a pretty picture indeed). I jumped back and out of reach before she could push her advantage.

“Don’t get too cocky. Pride comes before the fall, after all”, I snarked back as I lunged towards her, my scythe swinging. We matched each other blow for blow, dodging and leaping and whirling around the sparring court in a dangerous dance as the other reapers looked on. Gradually, I let my movements slow. I let dodges become near misses. I let her shove me back. But just as she wound up for a powerful swing that likely would have sent my scythe across the room, I dropped my act, dodged the hungry blade, and shoved it harder along its trajectory. With the combination of surprise and force, I sent her sprawling in a heap of limbs, fiery hair, and red fabric.

As soon as she hit the ground, I was looming over her. I pinned her to the ground, hands on her wrists to keep her from fighting back, knees straddling her hips to stop her from getting up.

“I told you you'd fall,” I said, narrowing my eyes and huffing out a quiet chuckle. “Don’t let your guard down, Darling, and don't get too confident. Things usually won't turn out the way you think they will.”

I took a moment to just look at her, her flushed face, her sultry gaze and smirk, and my confident air died on the spot. I shivered ever so slightly. Seeing her like this, blushing and trapped beneath me, was intoxicating. Her hair shone like the most priceless of rubies in the pale light of the room, her smooth lips were gently parted and so so inviting. Without really noticing, I tightened my grip on her wrists and pressed closer. The added pressure elicited a delightful little breathy whine from that enchanting mouth as she tilted her head back and shifted against me, back arching ever so slightly, body seeking out just the slightest bit more contact. The spectators became a distant memory in this haze of lurid heat. Distracted by the whole scenario, I didn't register right away that she was moving again. With two quick twists, she freed her wrists from my grasp, then tucked her legs and kicked me off.

Shit!

The moment broken, my ears reddened in frustrated embarrassment as I rolled away and to my feet. I had just chastised her for getting cocky! How big of an idiot did I have to be to forget my own warning? She'd played the whole thing up knowing full well that it would distract me, and it showed in the smugness that permeated her tone when she spoke,

"You really should take your own advice, Dearest. Pride comes before the fall, as they say, and it seems that you fell in more than one sense of the word. Besides, I'm not quite ready to be subdued yet, since I'm having so much fun with you!"

Oho. I'd show her.

Letting the threat of my intentions show with the tenfold return of my devilish smile, I felt a renewed vigor well up inside me. I had an ace up my sleeve, and now was the time to show my hand. Grelle's smug smirk faltered for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough to show me she knew I was up to something. Not giving her a chance to speculate or prepare, I sprung at her; but this time, instead of just lashing out with my double blade, I split it in half at the handle. This was my secret weapon, one that had served me well in days gone by, and one that no one knew about save for the dead. Two scythes gave me a singular style, a unique advantage, but that was not all. No, not at all. When using two blades that were usually one, I, naturally, needed to ensure that one half of my weapon couldn't be lost or knocked from my hand. The simple, rather useful solution to this problem was connecting the two with a chain of adjustable length. This chain seemed almost to respond to my thoughts, changing length as the situation demanded. It could be used as a simple convenience, as a weapon, or as a restraint. It truly was one of the finest made scythes I'd yet encountered (along with Grelle's and Undertaker's, of course).

Now as I sailed through the air, bearing down on a dumbfounded Grelle, the long, silvery chain flew out behind me, glinting in the harsh lighting with a delicate scintillation that belied its strength. On seeing the chain, she must have made a certain sort of connection, likely rather indecent, judging by the color of her cheeks. I huffed a small laugh. How prophetic. After I win, we’re definitely going to get some use out of it. I slashed down hard with my scythes, catching her off guard and forcing her a few steps back. She shot a glare at me over our crossed weapons, and I responded by giving her my biggest, most innocent smile. It probably came off as more of a shit-eating grin, but it did the trick.

She shoved her scythe harder against mine in an attempt to throw me off, but being caught off guard and in a flustered sort of state, she hadn't thought far enough ahead to realize she'd be leaving herself open. Seizing the opportunity, I brought one of my blades around the other side of her chainsaw and yanked, wrenching it from her grasp and sending it spinning away over the ground. She staggered, and I landed a well-aimed kick to her stomach, likely knocking the breath out of her if the huff she let out was any indication. To keep from falling, she leapt backwards, and I pulled out another surprise. Literally, I pulled one end of the chain off its handle. As she flew back, I lashed out with it, fully expecting her to block it, but she made no move to defend herself before it whipped her across the cheek. I might've imagined it, but I thought I heard a yelp underneath the noise and chaos of the sparring area. I flinched as her head jerked to the side.

Oh god, I hope I didn't hurt her!

She landed on her feet, but she remained hunched over, trembling, with one hand on her poor cheek and the other holding her stomach. My energetic fervor evaporated and rained down as worry.

What if she's really injured?!

I'd just taken a step toward her to check when she lifted her head slightly. She certainly didn't look pained. In fact, she seemed to be blushing. Her gaze was intense, yet unfocused; and as I watched, she ran her fingers across her cheek closed her eyes. It looked very much like she was fighting valiantly to hold back something untamable; and though she was trying to hide it, her breathing came in wavering gasps as she struggled to compose herself.

Ah. Uhm... Fuck. I knew where this was going.

I tried to back off a little, unsure if I should risk keeping this up while there were other reapers watching, but Grelle seemed to sense my hesitation, and she was having none of it. Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed and refocused. She darted past me, snatched up her scythe, and took a wild swing at me; one that I batted aside easily enough, but she kept coming.

Oh, so that's how you want to play it. Time to put my knowledge to good use.

My "knowledge" stemmed from something she'd told me one night when I was tipsy and she was dead drunk. We'd simply been friends then (though that had changed soon after), and we'd gone out drinking with Ronald and Othello after work. Ronald disappeared an hour in; probably to go throw up, and Othello wandered off to poke at this newfangled "radio" thing. We were talking about our experiences as trainees, and it sent her off on a spiel about her first reaping with William. She told me everything. Including every detail of her fight with him and what it led her to discover about herself. And alas, as is wont to happen, since she was blackout drunk she forgot pretty much the entire night and woke up with, "One of the most awful hangovers of my life. I felt like I was dying!"

I remembered though. At the time, I was insanely jealous, but now... Now I had a plan. And I was feeling downright devious.

So she wanted to play it rough? I'd give her rough. She wanted to continue, even with reapers there? I'd give them a show. Smirking, I threw all my weight against our locked scythes, forcing her back for a moment, then pushed her chainsaw away with one blade and swung the other at her unguarded torso. She just managed to catch my arm in time, but in one quick movement, I broke her grip and grabbed both her wrists. Through pushing her backwards, we'd ended up near enough to the wall for me to slam her into it, pinning her wrists above her head. The feigned defiance on her face might've been intimidating if her every mannerism wasn't contradicting it.

"I know what you're trying to do, Darling," I intoned, reveling in the way I could feel her knees weaken at my tone. "You get off on the passion of battle, the pleasure of pain, the high of being brought low. It shows. You might be able to fool them for a while," a discreet gesture to the small crowd, "but you aren't fooling me. Now fight back so they don't get wise to your predicament."

Helpless desire dancing in her stare, she murmured, "Oh, y/n Darling, you really know how to get me fired up!"

With a grunt, she freed her wrists, braced her back on the wall, and shoved me off with a solid kick. I sprung back to keep from stumbling, then rushed at her, scythe raised. We traded rapid blows, but I never let her put me on the defense, and I never let myself waver. Hers was a doomed endeavor from the start. Knowing what I knew, there was no way I'd let such a chance slip through my fingers, and I think she felt the same. She was barely putting up a fight at this point, and it felt so good to see her just aching for me to take her down. With every swing, a bit more of Grelle's composure was chipped away and a bit more of her desperate need bled through. The sight of her coming undone was wearing my own restraint to the bone. The lustful miasma welled up again; dense around us, within us, permeating the air and every particle of our being. I wanted to drown in it, surrender to the frenzy it promised, let it grow until it was all that existed.

Unable to hold off any longer, I called on what she'd confessed to me that hazy, drunken night. I slowed my attacks, lifted my scythe, and swung hard from above. When she intercepted it, she let out a small sound of distressed want that only fueled the fire in my core. I let my blade glance off, then brought it back from below. She was panting hard now, and one look at her face was enough to tell me that she wasn't going to last much longer. With a thrill of excitement, I locked eyes with her and struck; first from the right, then the left. I saw the exact moment she realized what I was doing, her electric green eyes widened as I moved to dash around behind her. I poured all my pent-up passion into my kick, striking her square in the small of her back.

Time seemed to slow as she sailed through the air in a graceful arc, the elegant arch of her back strikingly erotic. She threw her head back and let loose a ringing cry of pure, exquisite ecstasy that dug needle-sharp claws into my last shred of self-control and tore it to useless pieces. Thank the high heavens the other reapers had taken the hint and made themselves scarce, because goddamn if the palpable steam of lust in the air and that sound (Oh god, that sound) didn't absolutely destroy my inhibitions. I strode towards the trembling goddess on the ground in front of me, wave after wave of raging heat crashing through me in anticipation of what was coming. Her half-closed, yearning eyes wrapped a tether around my soul, drawing me ever nearer.

As soon as I got close enough, I was on her. I dropped to my knees bestride her hips, pinned her slender body with my own, roughly tangled my fingers in her hair, and yanked her into a desperate, hungry kiss. At the sharp pull of my hand through her hair, she groaned in pleasure against my mouth, a noise that had my already spinning thoughts careening out of control. When I nipped at her lip, she whimpered and my mind went blank. I tried to undo the buttons on her shirt with my shaking hands, but I couldn't get a good enough grip. This is taking too long!

Pulling away, I let out a frustrated growl, grabbed the sides, and ripped it open. Buttons popped and clattered free and fabric gave way beneath my fingers until I could toss what was left off to the side and run my hands over her tantalizingly smooth skin. No matter how many times I saw it, her body never ceased to steal my breath away. All slim, firm muscle and soft angles, hard lines and curves. She was a contradiction in every sense of the word, and she was beautiful.

I pressed my mouth intently against hers again as I slid my hands up from her hips and over her firm stomach, exploring every inch of her flawless skin as heat welled up in me. I couldn’t get enough of the sensation of touching her, of running my hands over her body, of just being able to touch her anywhere and everywhere. My desire was an irresistible force, guiding me higher and higher; as I went, I dragged my nails over her skin, relishing the way she shivered. I palmed her breasts through her bra and squeezed ever so slightly. She squirmed beneath me, pressing into my hands as she entwined her fingers in my hair, intensifying the kiss. Teeth clacked and tongues brushed, and it was electrifying.

I slipped my hands beneath her bra, searching desperately for any and every scrap of contact, of closeness. Anything. Everything. I stroked my thumbs over the tips of her nipples and she whined, a delightful little sound that brought buzzing, blazing lust surging up from where it pulsed in my core. I needed more of those sounds, needed them like I used to need air to breathe. I needed to hear her wail and moan and gasp and scream, needed to hear my name on her lips at the very height of her pleasure.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I broke our kiss and propped myself up, silencing her noise of protest with a smoldering stare that held the promise of everything I’d just imagined. I eyed her chest, watching the way it rose and fell with her rapid breaths, then looked back up. We locked eyes as I snaked my hand under her and undid the clasp of her bra. I held her gaze as I slid its straps off her shoulders and tossed it away, then lowered my head.

As soon as I started running my tongue over her nipple, she let out a ragged gasp and grabbed fistfuls of my shirt, spurring me on. I licked and sucked and worried it with my teeth, sending shivers through her body and eliciting whimpers from her mouth. I knew I’d found a sensitive spot when she cried out and arched her back, digging her fingers into my waist. I kept at it -all the while letting my hands wander lower and lower over her figure- until she was shaking like a leaf and I could feel the wetness of her arousal through her pants. I fiddled with the zipper, having a hard time functioning in the consuming blaze of my desire; but stopped when Grelle grabbed my hand.

”Wait.”

Anxiety cascaded over me like a bucket of ice water and I sat up abruptly. Oh shit, oh fuck, did I do something wrong? We’ve done this before, but did I somehow misread the situa-

“I want to see you, to touch you, too.”

I blinked down at her, then relaxed with a relieved huff. I guided her hands to my chest, to the buttons of my shirt. As she finished undoing them, she leaned in and brushed her lips against my throat, right over my racing pulse. Her touch on my neck and my chest was like fire, and I nipped at her ear in response, shrugging out of my shirt and bra. The sinful heat sunk into my skin and suffused my voice as I whispered,

”Now would be a good time to put my chain to good use, don’t you think? Don’t worry, I won’t tie up your hands, you can still touch me. What I’ll do is restrain you in a way that won’t let you close your legs or interrupt me while I have my way with you. Would you like that?”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Yes, love,” Grelle breathed out as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her pants and began to work them off, along with her panties. Her arousal was plain to see, and I couldn’t resist brushing my fingers over her slick skin; slowly, sensually. Her whole body twitched in response and she ground into my hand, letting out a breathy moan. If she was already this sensitive, I couldn’t wait for what was to come. With no small effort, I dragged my hand and my attention away then slipped out of my own pants, basking in her attentive, hungry gaze. I reached for the chain that had so conveniently wound up nearby. For a moment there was no sound but our lust-heavy breaths and the clinking of the chain links as I wrapped them around her spread legs and bare torso in an intricate pattern, watching the goosebumps rise on her skin in response to the touch of the cold metal and the thought of what it meant for her. When I finished, I tugged at the chain to make sure it held.

“Does that feel alright?” I asked. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than she wanted me to.

“It feels wonderful,” came the breathless reassurance. “Being exposed and helpless before you... it's thrilling.”

“And seeing you so eager for this is thrilling for me too, darling,” I murmured darkly before pulling her in for a kiss that emanated passion, caressing her face then continuing down. Down over her shoulders and chest and stomach, down to where she wanted me most. She cupped my breasts and thumbed my nipples, sending tingles of pleasure through my body, spurring me on. No more hesitation. I plunged two of my fingers into her soaked cunt and was rewarded with a muffled groan of pure rapture, sweet against my mouth. I stroked my fingers over that one spot I knew would absolutely undo her, my thrumming arousal consuming every inch of me at the torturously salacious sound she made. I reveled in the way her whole body shook as I pleasured her, in how wet she already was for me, in the way she threw her head back with each movement inside her. I kept up a steady rhythm, then I brushed my thumb over her clit and began rubbing circles around it, denying her the complete pleasure of my touch on the more sensitive center, but giving her just enough to intensify her bliss to the point of near delirium. I tugged sharply on her hair with my other hand, and she cried out, nails digging into my back and leaving marks on my skin.

Almost at the edge, at the peak of it all, her noises of rapture were music to my ears. A wild symphony, a rhapsody, my feverish magnum opus. Her legs strained at their bonds and her skin glistened with sweat, so close, so desperate. Nearer and nearer, nearly there. I brought my head down to pleasure her with my tongue. I needed to be closer to her, to taste her euphoria as she came. I slid my tongue in and out, finally stroking directly over her center the way she so longed for. Each brush of my tongue sent a shudder through her. Her legs twitched and trembled and her breath came in sharp, ragged, appetent gasps.

"Darling, plea- aah! Please! I'm going to-!"

She came with a wail of unadulterated ecstacy, spasms rocking her entire body, legs jerking in the throes of her climax. Her come was ambrosia on my tongue, sweet and heady as I took it all, working her through her high until she was just on the verge of oversensitive. I raised my head, gaze travelling up her body, limp with exhaustion and satisfaction, to rest on her flushed face. The look in her eyes about melted my heart with the amount of pure affection and deep passion it radiated, and I poured every ounce of my own emotion into a slow, sincere kiss. When we parted, I rested my forehead against hers and closed my eyes, just savoring the stillness and affection that suffused the air. She was so beautiful. No matter how hard I tried -and I tried- I could not find words worthy of her. She was indescribable, and I could only hope she could see and feel my reverence in this moment. This moment, and every other moment of every other day. Her eyes told me she did. In them, I could see my feelings reflected back at me, could see that she understood and that she loved me just as much as I did her. Where words failed, our bond did not.

She smiled a bit, just a small upturn of her mouth, and said,

"That was wonderful, love, but you can't expect me to take so much pleasure from you without letting me return the favor. I want to show you just how much I adore you."

[arcwhore]

Trust

{rafe cameron} x {reader}

Request: Rafe cheating at a party. 

description: rafe has a soft spot for his little sisters best friend, and is there when she leaves. who’s gonna be there when he leaves?

warnings: angst, yelling, hitting

word count: 3163

Your heels clicked as you walked up the steps of the Cresswell family manor, tightly holding your clutch in your left hand. Your right hand was clasped around your boyfriend's arm, and you could feel his biceps flex in anticipation.

                                    ≿————-   ❈   ————-≾

Every year at the end of the summer, all the Kooks went out with a bang. You were to wear the most formal attire you could find, and come with the intentions of getting fucked up.

 You had always gone with your best friend, Sarah, but just about a month ago, she started dating a Pogue; who was undeniably handsome, so you were happy for her. 

“As long as you’re happy, Sarah. I will always stand by you,” you had told her. 

She slipped away after that, barely making any time for you, ditching you at Midsummers. She was always with John B, and it hurt, but you knew that she deserved a good relationship, and so did she. You had took that as your que to venture out to new places; find new people. By new people, I mean Sarah’s brother. 

The first night she ditched you, you showed up at her house, clothes soaking wet. Despite the time, you rang the doorbell. When no one answered, you held your finger to the button, hoping there would be some kind of rapid alarm. It was all high tech, so you were just hoping, but really, you were probably just standing there like an idiot. 

After knocking, banging, and ringing the doorbell multiple times, muscly legs descended down the stairs. A tired--and very grumpy--Rafe appeared, walking towards the door all while rubbing his eyes. He saw you through the glass and debated on turning off the light and going back upstairs, but he didn’t want to have to deal with your constant pounding on the door. When he opened the door, you immediately stepped inside. 

“Woah, hey, what the fuck are you doing here?” Rafe complained. He was surprised by your entrance, your clothes clinging to your body and showing off your perfect curves. The light pink shirt you wore was now see through, prompting his eyes to attach themselves to your visible cleavage. 

“Where is Sarah?” You asked him. You figured he probably wouldn’t tell you. That, or he actually didn’t know. 

“How the fuck should I know? Little miss princess is probably hanging out with her pathetic pogue of a boyfriend.” He grumbled, taking a seat on the stairs and staring at you. 

“She ditched me! Left me at home, all by mys fucking self, while she goes out fucking her boyfriend! They’re probably having sex on his shitty bed right now, and shes not even thinking about me!”

“Well, to be fair, if she was thinking about you in the middle of sex that would be a little awkward…” Rafe interrupted. You glared at him, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “Did you really run all the way over here just to rant to me about my sister?”

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” you quoted. “Rafe, do I look like I have fucking teleportation skills? Of course I ran here! My car’s in the shop and Sarah was supposed to come over, but she didn’t and now 2 hours later, here I am, losing my shit because I’m not going to get a project done!” You vented. Rafe gave you a bitchy look, one eyebrow raised and his mouth in a straight line.

 “Come on, Rafe. Help me out here,” you begged. 

“Go home, Y/N,” he got up from his seat on the stairs, stammering towards you. He tried to usher you out the door, but you pushed his hands off. “Y/N…”

“Goddammit, Rafe!” you groaned, stomping out the door. You went out, sitting on the porch. You waited for the rain to die down, waited for some sign that it was going to slow; but it didn’t. 

Rafe watched you from inside, waiting on you to stomp your ass right back through the door, but you didn’t. You sat and stared into the night, watching the water droplets splash as they hit the stone pavement. His chest started to shrink as he watched you, his mind wandering. 

In an abrupt motion, he unlocked the door, pulling you inside. He motioned for you to follow him upstairs, and you crossed your arms reluctantly. You were starting to shiver from the AC, your cold clothes suddenly feeling like an ice bath. 

“Come on, I’ll get you some warm clothes.” you padded up the stairs after him, wondering why he was being so nice to you. You wanted to say something, to ask what the sudden change of heart was, but you knew it would ruin the moment. Your feet left prints on the floor, leading all the way to his bedroom. You watched him as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt-- well, Rafe sized-- and handed it over to you. 

“Bathrooms’ through there,” he nodded. You muttered a thanks before going to get changed. You stripped out of your sopping wet clothes, dropping them onto the floor like a wet mop. Rafe’s clothes were a bit big, but they were so comfortable. You walked back in holding your wet clothes in hand, holding them out to him.

“I didn’t know what you wanted me to do with them,” you said softly. He grabbed them from your hands, walking out of the room. He left you alone again, but this time you didn’t feel lonely. You sprawled out on his bed, taking in a deep breath of the leftover cologne on his sheets. You would have never admitted it, but he smelled amazing; like clean linens and lemon shampoo. The sound of footsteps approached you, but you were already falling into the darkness of sleep. Rafe rustled through his closet, trying to find something to put on the floor as a palette. He laid down, taking a pillow off the bed and shoving it under his head. He had a scowl on his face, upset that you took his bed, but when his eyes drifted to your peaceful figure, the frustration faded. A faint smile took its place, and he closed his eyes, drifting off. 

                                  ≿————-　❈　————-≾

You walked in together, greeted by your friends who, not to your surprise, were already hammered. They giggled at your reaction, as you were trying to mediate their state until you got a little into your system. You let go of Rafe’s arm and headed to the kitchen. He watched you walk away, turning towards one of your mutual friends and starting a conversation. 

                                    ≿————-   ❈   ————-≾

The second time was Midsummers. You came to her house early, getting ready with her. She had told you that you two would dance and drink that night. She said she was sorry and wanted to make up for what she did. You were starting to doubt her more and more with every sentence she told you, but you agreed nonetheless. 

You had a light blue dress with leg slits while she had the same, but in red. You did each others makeup while she blasted music in her bedroom. 

“I’m sorry that I ditched you that night, Y/N. It was stupid... I don’t know what I was thinking skipping out on an opportunity to hang out with you,” Sarah apologized. She powdered your face, looking into your eyes sincerely. All you did was nod and smile, hoping that would suffice. 

“I missed you, Sarah,” you muttered. 

“I know, I miss you too. So damn much,” she put her brush down and gave you a tight hug. You sank into her embrace, allowing yourself a few minutes of peace before chaos. You sighed into her shoulder. 

“Let’s get this party started!” you suddenly screamed, changing the vibe in the room. 

“You bet!” Sarah replied. She walked over to her mirror, and you stood up to look at yourself. “You look beautiful.”

“You look gorgeous,” you smiled with reassurance, stepping into your shoes and heading downstairs. Rafe met you at the bottom wearing a light blue tux. Your eyes locked, and a spark of electricity ran down from your head to your toes. You felt all warm and tingly inside just from looking at him.

“Well look at us! Did you plan this Cameron?” You teased, stepping down to the 2nd bottom step to get to his height. A smile peaked through his lips, and he tried his best to conceal it. 

“Yeah, I definitely snuck into your closet just to see what color dress you were wearing just so I could match with your lazy ass,” he snickered. 

“Oh come on, you don’t gotta be mean, Rafe. We’ve known each other for 8 years, I think it’s time to start warming up.”

“I think we’re pretty warm, considering you slept in my bed the night my sister ditched you,” he struck. You rolled your eyes at his comment, simply just brushing past him. “We were talking, Y/N!”

“We were. Now were not,” you replied briskly, swinging the door to the Cameron household open and strutting out. He stared as you walked out, entangled in your sassy personality. He loved the way you fought with him; so playful, so harmless; but somehow, it always seem to hurt him the most when you walked away. 

You had been searching for Sarah for half an hour, and you were already frustrated. The party had started and people were drinking all around you, and it made it a lot harder to see through whiskey glasses. You grabbed an unattended drink from the bar, downing it in seconds as you walked inside. 

The music muffled inside the corridor, your heels clacking on the granite floors. You began to walk up the stairs, but you heard a deep voice rumble behind you. 

“Can’t find your precious friend?” Rafe asked. You spun around, your face turning red from embarrassment. You shook your head shyly. 

“It’s fine, I knew she would leave me anyway,” you shrugged your shoulders. He scoffed, looking at you with his pupils blown. “Don’t look at me like that, dumbass.” 

You averted your gaze, but it felt as if your eyes had magnets in them, and Rafe’s were the only other ones that could lock them in place. You felt your body start to heat up as he stared at you, and your sure that your eyes were starting to get wider. You felt his hand trace up your arm, the other grabbing your waist. You let out a small gasp, trying not to show him that you were too vulnerable. His hand reached your neck, reaching around the back of it and slowly pulling you in. He stopped right when your lips were centimeters apart, waiting for you to close the gap. 

You connected your lips with his, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. His arm snuck around your waist and pulled your hips until they bumped into his. His lips glided on top of yours so gently, not at all like what you were expecting from him. Both of your minds were wandering, but someone clearing their throat ruined the mood. You pulled away from each other, checking in the direction of the noise. Ward stood there with a smirk on his face.

“If you’re gonna kiss, go do it in private,” he winked, passing by and heading to the bathroom. He turned to look at you, giving you the ‘I’m watching you’ motion, and you giggled. You turned back to Rafe.

“What do you say we take this somewhere more private, good sir?” You joked.

“Of course M’Lady,” he smiled. 

                                   ≿————-　❈　————-≾

The smell of alcohol and weed was smothering, but you were trying to do anything to take the edge off. You had been looking forward to this party all day, and the fight with your parents early this morning didn’t help but fuel you more. You grabbed the closest bottle and took it straight, bringing it to your lips and feeling your body warm up. You kicked around the balloons that floated on the ground as you drank, swallowing swig after swig. You set down the bottle and took off your shoes, putting them on the pile in the corner before you saw Rafe headed towards you. You reached out your hands for him and screamed, “Let’s dance!” 

You dragged him out on the floor, backing up against him and grinding. He had his hands on your hips, swaying you, but he wasn’t holding you like he usually did. You spun around, trying to meet his gaze. When you turned, his eyes were preoccupied, but they snapped back to you before you could see what he was looking at. 

“What’s wrong?” Your head titled to the side in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. He shook his head.

“Nothing, sorry.”

“You sure? Cause I can get out way for you,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. You threw up your hands, exasperated, and walked to the kitchen again. He didn’t even try to follow you. You grabbed a pre-roll off the counter, pulling out the lighter in your bra. You inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs. Exhaling through your nose, your eyes closed and you allowed the beat of the music to flow through you. You started to sway your hips again, bringing your arms up in response. You moved towards the party again, joint still in hand. You moved through the overcrowded living room of sweaty teenagers, searching for your tree of a boyfriend. You took another drag, blowing the smoke in some strangers’ face. You couldn’t help but laugh when she made a disgusting face at you. 

The anger in your bones started to shake you when you couldn’t find Rafe. “I know damn well...”

Your thought process kicked in when you stepped out of the crowd. You stomped up the stairs, opening every door that was unlocked. You walked in on a few couples but left too quick to say sorry. You opened one door, and it was pitch black. You heard the bed stop squeaking when you entered. You flipped on the light, trying your best to make out the figures on the bed. It was a good idea, fucking a girl behind your back, but doing it in the dark so you would never suspect a thing, right? Wrong. 

“Rafe?” You shrieked, eyes settling on the half naked figure staring at you with wide eyes. You could hear the girl under him whisper to him. You smirked and advanced towards them. 

“Who is it, Rafe?” The girl asked. He stuttered, trying to find his words. He fully stood, trying to stop you from getting any closer.

“Yeah, who is it, Rafe? Who-” you pushed him back, “fucking is it?”

“Y/N, chill out,” he mediated. You laughed, looking over at the bed. 

“This bitch? Come on, if you’re gonna cheat on me, cheat on me with someone who’s prettier than me. It’s the least you can do!”

“I-I didn’t realize he had-” you interrupted the ginger.

“You, shut the fuck up and get out,” you yelled. She scrambled for her clothes, running out into the hallway with only her underwear on. You glared at him, waiting for a response. “Come on, say it big boy.”

“Y/N...” you raised your eyebrows, tilting your head in inquisitively. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s all you got to say, huh?” He stayed silent. “You’re un-fucking-believable. I mean, who thought; Rafe Cameron actually being struck speechless? Bullshit!”

“Y/N, it was a mistake, I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized. His eyes were pleading, trying desperately for you to listen to him. You gestured for him to continue. “I love you, but I don’t...”

“You don’t what Rafe?” you asked. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship, Y/N!” You looked at him for a minute, trying to see if he was serious or not. His face never faltered, and you broke out into a smile. You were laughing so hard, trying not to break out crying in the process. He kept his gaze on you, his face full of confusion from your reaction. 

“You’re full of shit, Cameron! Just like the rest of your family!”

“Y/N, do we have to do this here?” Rafe pointed of the gatherings of people outside the door. 

“Do we have to- you dumb fuck!” you punched his bare chest. “Did you have to,” hit, “fuck,” hit, “that girl,” slap to the face, “here?”

“You’re a piece of shit, Rafe Cameron,” you turned and started walking out the door, the tears finally spilling from your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whimpered.

“Fuck you.”

                                  ≿————-　❈　————-≾

Cuddled up in your bed reading a book, you were interrupted by a knock on your door. “Y/N, baby, you have a visitor.”

“Who is it?” you heard feet scurrying at the door.

“It’s Sarah,” the sweet voice spoke. 

“Go away, Sarah,” you grumbled, stuffing your face in a pillow. You heard the door open and close and you rolled over on your back. 

“What do you want?” You asked harshly. She sat on the edge of the bed slowly, trying not to overstep her boundaries. 

“Look, I just wanted to say that Rafe’s been a total wreck without you the past few days-”

“Let me stop you right there; if you came over here to try to convince me to get back together with that douchebag, then you can go ahead and leave.” You sighed, throwing your head back. “I don’t wanna hear anything else about him.”

“No, God, no. I think he needed to feel some pain, kick his ass into line. I just wanted you to know how miserable you made him.”

“He made himself miserable,” you sat up, looking at her eyes for the first time in weeks. You missed the delicate features that you used to see every day. 

“I know, sorry. I’m just sorry that he did that to you, and I just feel like it’s my fault.”

“Honestly, it mostly is. You ditched me and he gave me comfort. It was just my stupid decision that led me to fall for him.”

“Well, didn’t expect the guilt trip today, but I guess I deserve that,” she chuckled. “Can we please start over? I’m so sorry for all the shit I did to you, and I’m sorry about how it all ended up. I miss my best friend.”

She gave you the pouty face which she knew you could resist. You thought about it for a few seconds before agreeing. 

“Fine, but don’t expect me to get along with your brother.” She squealed and clapped her hands together, giving you a caste kiss on the cheek. 

You looked at her and smiled.

“I fucking missed you.”

my masterlist

[particularemu]

Valentine’s Gift | A Han Jisung Scenario

Word Count: 1423

Type: Smut

Warnings: soft porn, cursing,

Author’s Note: For my Valentine @jisungsjheekies​

I wrote this in like one day, so I hope it’s not littered with mistakes and awk wording. If it is then oh well... I tried lol. 

“No horror.” You frowned as Jisung panned through the shelf packed full of movies. 

Despite the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day, Jisung was picking out every single horror movie you owned. You had everything from Disney movies to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and somehow he felt the need to toss Orphan, In the Tall Grass, and Hounds of Love onto the blankets. Since it was Valentine’s Day, you were kind of hoping to watch something romantic. 

You chuckled as your boyfriend visibly sulked and neatly put the movies back on the shelf.  “You’re no fun.” He muttered. 

“I’m lots of fun.” You grabbed one of the decorative throw pillows on the couch and chucked it at his head, giggling when Jisung turned around and pouted. 

“You’re so mean to me.” Jisung gasped when he saw a brand new movie he hadn’t seen before. “What’s Children of the Corn?”

Your eyes widened. “You haven’t seen Children of the Corn?” You laughed when Jisung shot you a look. “I thought you’ve seen all the classics.” You teased. 

“Well, I haven’t seen this one. Is it a horror movie?” He frowned when you nodded and went to place it on the shelf. 

“No, let’s watch it.” You giggled when you saw the pleased look on his face. 

“We don’t have to if you want to watch something else. You didn’t want to watch horror earlier, so —” 

“Well, I want to watch it now.” You chuckled. 

Jisung put the movie in the DVD player and sat beside you on the couch, arm slinging over your shoulder while he pressed play. “Is it super scary?”

You chuckled. Jisung was a HUGE fan of horror movies, but he couldn’t stop the gasping, jumping, and the occasional scream when the jumpscares popped out. You always enjoyed teasing him for his adorable reactions. 

“You’ll have to find out.” You replied. 

Jisung reacted the way you expected. As soon as the children popped into view, he pointed and said they looked creepy as shit. You couldn’t help but giggle as he jumped, crying out in fear when there was a jumpscare in the cornfield. When the movie ended, he was talking big, saying the movie wasn’t that scary — despite the fact that he nearly jumped into your arms for protection when the children brought out the weapons. 

Sure, that movie was pretty creepy, but you wouldn’t necessarily call it scary. Children of the Corn was pretty mild compared to some of the other Stephen King stories out there. You were dying to show him the brand new Pet Sematary.  

“So, what do you have planned for the rest of the evening babe?” You leaned to the side, curling into Jisung as he slung his arm around your shoulders. 

“Well, I was kind of hoping we could…” He trailed off. “Y’know…” 

“No, I don’t?” You cocked your eyebrow. 

“I forgot to set everything up. Give me like, five minutes.” Jisung hopped off the couch and ran into your bedroom. 

Okay, now this was strange. First of all, you knew you were in for a night in the bedroom — but you weren’t entirely sure why he was being so weird about it. The two of you have fucked in a bathroom for christ’s sake! You didn’t need him to fix the bedroom up for you. 

You headed over to the bedroom, catching Jisung lighting candles. “Hey! I said five minutes!” 

Wow, this was impressive. In the three minutes he was gone, the boy managed to make the bed, light some candles, and scatter an obnoxious amount of fake rose petals onto the blankets. As much as you enjoyed the thought, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was doing all this. “You really didn’t have to do this.” You smiled at him.

“Yeah, but.” Jisung paused. “It’s been five years sweetheart. Five. This year we agreed no gifts. I had to do something special for you.”

You felt horrible, but considering the fact that your boss decided to fire you for no good reason meant you weren’t going to be able to afford those brand new headphones you wanted to get Jisung for Valentine’s day. Sure, you could have gotten him something smaller and less expensive, but Jisung always spoils you with a new piece of jewelry every year, and you’d feel like a jerk handing him some cheap gift. 

Before you could overthink further, you simply pulled your shirt over your head, showing off the lacey bralette you wore underneath the thin cotton. You threw it on the floor, thanking the sex gods that Jisung’s cock was forming a tent in his sweats, otherwise, you probably would have heard something along the lines of, ‘Really? The laundry basket is right there!’ 

The two of you instantly connected, lips pressing against each other as you two stumbled over to the bed. You could feel the rose petals against your back as Jisung pushed you onto the blankets below. You sat up for a moment, allowing Jisung to slide the bralette off your body, giving him a perfect view of your perky breasts. Jisung pressed gentle kisses down your throat as his hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs rubbing your nipples as he stopped to suck a dark hickey on your neck. You were probably going to hate him for that later, but right now… you could care less.  

You moaned in content as Jisung pressed his lips against yours a few times, hands drifting up your body, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips. His tongue slipped in your mouth, brushing against yours as you pulled the hoodie up his body. The two of you parted, only for you to yank the hoodie off his body, giving you an amazing view of his abs. 

If only you were given the time to stop and stare… Jisung yanked your sweats off along with your underwear, leaving you bare before him. Your eyes watched his every move as he undressed himself the rest of the way before pressing a chaste kiss to your ankle bone.

“I love you.” Jisung’s voice was soft, like velvet. “You mean so much to me.” 

Jisung’s soft lips trailed kisses up your calf. His tongue darted out every now and again, leaving a trail of saliva as he ran the soft muscle up your thigh. Jisung’s hands spread your legs, tongue immediately diving into your folds, making your back arch in pleasure. Soft moans escaped your lips as he flicked your clit with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

You whimpered as he backed away from your core, licking your juices off his lips before settling between your thighs. Jisung aligned himself up with your entrance and gently pushed into you. He threw his head back and moaned as you clenched around him. 

Jisung’s lips pressed against yours, drinking every feeble cry and moan that slipped past your lips. You all but nuzzled into his neck, arms pulling him closer to you. A gasp escaped your lips when Jisung bumped noses with you, a small giggle sending a bright red blush on his cheeks. “Sorry.” 

“No don’t worry.” You smiled. 

Waves of pleasure coursed through you with every thrust. Jisung’s cock dipped into you perfectly, making your toes curl as you felt every inch of him rub your insides. Your hands roamed along his back, fingernails digging softly into his flesh, leaving soft crescents in its wake. Jisung’s blonde locks swayed in front of him as his eyes clenched shut. You could see that the small amount of restraint he once had was breaking. 

Jisung’s hips moved faster, each thrust becoming more and more powerful. A loud moan escaped your lips as his powerful thrusts hit a new speed, pace quickening as he moaned against your lips. His body shifted slightly, allowing him to grasp you in his arms, holding you tightly as you both neared your peak. 

With one snap of his hips, you both climaxed, releasing as his arms held you closer. Jisung slowly lowered his body, resting his full weight onto your form. You held him tighter, hands sliding up to lightly rub his back. You could feel sloppy kisses being pressed to your chest, small trails of saliva being left on your skin where his lips traveled.

“I love you so much.” Jisung nuzzled into your neck. “Don’t forget that.” 

“I love you too.” You ran your hands up and down his back. 

“Ok, good because I kind of ignored our little no gift rule and I got you something.” Jisung hopped off the bead and headed to your shared closet. 

“JISUNG!” You groaned in frustration. “We agreed!” 

Jisung laughed as he came back to the bed, a small bag in his hands. “No, you agreed. I just nodded.” 

“Which I took to be an agreement.” You huffed and gave him a look. 

“Please open it. I have been waiting so long to give it to you.” 

As much as you wanted to tell him to return it, you couldn’t deny the sweet puppy-dog eyes he was giving you. “Fine.” 

You opened the small bag to see a velvet box. You glared at Jisung. “Baby I told you.” 

“I know I know.” Jisung chuckled. “Open it.” 

You did as he asked, opening the box to see a beautiful ring, engraved with Jisung’s initials. Your cheeks flushed bright red as you pulled it out, eyeing up the silver band. 

“I have one with your initials.” Jisung showed you the ring on his index finger. “I figured you could have a piece of me with you when I have to go on tour.” 

Your eyes glassed over as you smiled brightly, sliding the ring onto your finger. “I love it.” You threw yourself into his arms, making the boy giggle. “I just feel so bad, I didn’t get you anything, and I really wanted to.” 

“Baby, you don’t have to get me anything.” He kissed your cheek. “I’m just happy you’re still putting up with me.” 

You laughed and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. “I love you more than you know.” 

“Good.” Jisung laughed. “Because that’s not the only gift I got you.” 

“Jisung!” 

[machine-gun-casie]

Baby Mama

@kellysimagines: Can you make one where the reader and mgk just had a baby and with a lot of cuteness i hope you like it!!

warning: birth?

wc: 1.7k

It was almost like déjà vu. He got the phone call from Emma while he was in the studio. You had been staying with Casie’s mom after you passed your due date and had yet to go into labor.

“Colson, the baby’s coming.” She had said the exact same words when Casie was coming into this world. Emma’s words echoed in his ears.

Colson blinked. His brain was pulling nothing but blanks. “What?”

“The baby, Colson! Get your ass to the hospital now!” Emma demanded, clearly surrounded by chaos. When the line started beeping, signalling Emma hanging up, Colson finally processed what he just heard. Somewhat.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

Baze looked at him and then looked at Rook and AJ and finally back to Colson. “What’s going on?”

Slim rolled his eyes and got up off the couch. “I know that fucking look. Get up, I’ll drive you.”

“What’s the look?” Baze asked, not catching up.

“His Baby Mama is giving birth to his child. Who’s coming? We don’t got time.”

The whole band pretty much walked Colson to the car as he was still frozen. Slim knew that as soon as the hospital was in sight, Colson would be as excited as ever.

And he was right. “Holy shit! Baby Baker number two is coming! Holy motherfucking shit!” Everyone in the car started cheering like crazy, finally understanding the weight of the situation.

The group of men clambered into the hospital reception looking like they had no reason to be there. Slim decided to take control as he was the only one acting normal.

“Hi, we’re here for y/n l/n. We just got a call that she went into labor.” Slim explained to the nurse, pretending the entourage behind him was nonexistent.

The nurse skimmed through her computer before nodding. “Yes, I’ve got her right here. Are you the father?”

Slim sighed and shook his head. “No, he is.” He pointed his finger to Colson who had the absolute biggest smile on his face.

“I’m the- I’m the dad. Is she uh- are they ok? Is it all good?” Colson spoke, happiness interfering with his ability to speak properly.

“I’m sure they’re fine, let me take you to her.” The nurse smiled and started heading down the hallway. When she heard way too many feet following her, she turned around abruptly. “I’m sorry, your group is too big for the delivery room. It would be best if only the father would follow me beyond this point.”

The group collectively groaned, each one clapping Colson on the back. Slim made sure to be last. “She’s gonna do great, Kells.”

“I know.” Colson smiled. “She’s the strongest motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

Colson was given scrubs and a hairnet to wear before he could enter the delivery room. He took out his phone and quickly went on to Instagram. He pressed the button and began talking, not entirely sure if his words were intelligible.

“Hey guys, I’m all suited up for the delivery room right now. My second child is currently coming into the world. My Baby Mama is gonna kill it like she always does. Next time y’all fuckers see me, Imma be a father of two.” He stuck his tongue out and posted it to his story. He threw his phone on a chair outside the room and walked in.

No one even knew you were pregnant, so he was sure his phone would be blowing up for the next week.

When he walked in, he saw Emma and Casie on either side of your bed holding your hands.

“Dad! y/n, he’s here!” Casie called out to her father to take her place. Colson immediately took your clammy hand in his. Emma took her daughter and walked out of the room to give you two privacy, the moment seeming to be tender and personal.

“Hey, hey special girl. How are you? How are you doing?” Colson whispered, brushing away the strands of hair stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“I ugh.” You groaned in pain, ending your statement half way through. “I uh- I’m pushing through. Thought it was gonna be more painful than this, to be honest.”

“How the fuck can you imagine something more painful than childbirth. Isn’t it at the top of the charts?” Colson asked, amazed at how you weren’t accepting defeat, not even in your most vulnerable of moments.

“I’m not sure. Kind of feels like a chainsaw was let loose in my vagina.” You chuckled through the pain. “Makes me regret fucking you.”

“Hey now, don’t say things like that.” Colson laughed. “You love fucking me.”

“Never said I didn’t love it, just might regret it and the fact that I forgot the pill.” You replied, squeezing his hand as you felt another contraction coming.

“That is something we can work on. How are you feeling? You wanna push? Should I call the doctor?”

You brought your other hand up and smothered it in Colson’s face. “Shut up a second.” You whispered, face scrunched up in pain. You let out a few shallow breaths through your clenched teeth before you looked at him. “Sorry, needed the contraction to be over so I could understand what you were saying. Yeah, I think I wanna push.”

Colson’s smile seemed to only grow bigger. “Alright, I’ll tell them to call the doctor. I fucking love you.” He ran off to find the nurse that was just in the room, and as he left Emma walked back in.

“Hey, Col says you wanna push?” She asked gently, coming back to your side.

“Yeah, I think so. Been resisting for a bit. Every time I told the doctor, she kept saying it wasn’t time. But I really feel like it’s time.” You said, panting with every word.

“You’ve been doing so well, y/n. We’re all so proud of you. Casie keeps gushing about how strong you are.” She smiled.

You felt pride bloom on your face. “Really? Oh my God, I love that little girl. Where is she?”

Emma nodded her out to the door. “She’s out with the guys. Everyone’s asking how you’re doing. None of those boys have patience, they can’t wait to meet the new Baker. And Colson? That man is in love if I’ve ever seen it.”

“Oh, he better be.” You grunted.

Before you could complete your thought, the doctor rushed in along with Colson, who rushed right back to your side. “Alright, we think we’re ready to push?”

“Please tell me it’s time.” You groaned, not wanting to be declined once more.

“It’s time, honey. Push.”

With that one word, you felt the air in the room change. Your body felt like it was working on its own as you began pushing. You felt your face become hotter as you kept in your wails of pain.

“It’s alright, beautiful. You can scream. Let it all out.” Colson spoke gently to you, not sure why you were keeping it in.

“I can’t. Case is outside, I don’t want her to hear. I don’t want her to be afraid.” You groaned.

Colson looked at you in the same way again. With awe. You didn’t understand why. “How the fuck are you so fucking perfect?”

“Colson, please shut the fuck up and kiss me.” You sighed. You wanted him to do anything just to take your mind off the pain. Colson placed his lips on yours, eager to do anything you would ask of him. He kissed you and he kissed you and he kept on kissing you until he heard the shrill cries of his newborn baby. Of your newborn baby.

“Oh my God! Our baby’s here. Colson, our baby’s here. Oh my god.” You were blubbering, not sure how to explain your excitement in words. The nurses quickly wiped down your newborn and placed the baby on your bare chest.

“This is our baby, Colson.” You breathed out, amazed at the little miracle you had on your chest.

“That’s our baby.” Colson repeated, bending down a little more to look closely at the newborn’s face. “It’s got your lips.” Colson smiled, lightly tracing along the newborn’s cupid’s bow.

You chuckled, nodding your agreement. “It’s got your nose.” You said as you saw Colson trace down the nose of your child. “So beautiful.”

“You got a name?” You heard someone ask. You didn’t know if it was a nurse or a doctor, and you didn’t really care.

“Cadence Kelly Baker. What do you think?” You asked softly.

Both you and Colson knew the name would come to you on the day, so it was never discussed beforehand. But you knew it was the right name.

“Kelly? Like...” Colson asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yeah, Kelly like Kelly.” You smiled softly, knowing how much it would mean to him.

Colson looked between you and the baby a few times, taken aback. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah Colson, I’m sure. Case and Cade. You like?”

“Like? I love it. I love you and I love our baby and I love our baby’s name.” Colson whispered, placing his forehead again your own.

“Richard Colson Baker, meet Cadence Kelly Baker, your second born.”

“Hey Cade, you really put your mom through a lot, didn’t ya?” Colson laughed. “You are so beautiful and so loved. By us and so many other people. You wanna meet them?” Cadence gurgled, as if responding. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

You laughed and nodded. “It sure is. Call ‘em in. Send Casie in first, though.”

“Alright.” Colson replied softly, placing a kiss on your forehead before walking out. Emma, who had been standing a little bit off to the side, approached you and said her hello’s to the newborn.

“y/n?” You heard Casie’s timid voice from the hospital door.

“Case, come over here. I’ve got someone who’s dying to meet you.” You smiled at her, beckoning her over. She slowly approached and gasped when she saw the baby on your chest.

“Oh my god! It’s so small!” She marvelled. “What’s the name? Dad said we’re matching.” She asked excitedly.

“Almost. I chose Cadence. Case and Cade. You like it?”

“Of course I do. What’s the full name, though?”

“Cadence Kelly Baker.” You replied, swiping your thumb on your baby’s soft cheek.

“Oh no, another Kelly. You sure you can handle that, y/n?” Casie joked.

You and Emma laughed. “Yeah, I think I can. What about you? Think you can handle being a big sister?”

Casie nodded excitedly as her father walked in with his band.

“Everybody, I want you to meet Cadence Kelly Baker.”

-

-

-

@machinegunkelly My baby mama is the strongest person ever. Welcome to the world Cadence Kelly Baker. You are so loved.

[happyandticklish]

Never So Sweet A Dream As Laughter

Summary: Ronan keeps dreaming of feathers and he can only hide the reason for so long before Adam discovers why.

Ronan had been dreaming of feathers lately.

At first it was only one, barely noticed except that it was pure white, a color so opposite Chainsaw that it couldn’t possibly have come from her. Days went by, however, and the amount grew so that sometimes he woke up surrounded in a blanket of them, brushing them off irritably.

He always cleaned them up before anyone could notice.

As far as he could tell there was nothing special about these feathers, nothing significant about them that made them stand out as a dream thing. They were simply feathers, all different kinds after that first one, some stiff and velvety and other soft with frayed edges. Some had dots on them, freckled with color, and some were bright and exotic.

The only special quality they held was that Ronan couldn’t look at them without blushing.

He knew why they were there and that was the reason why he could never let anyone see them. He had been dreaming also, lately, of Adam. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, only the manner in which he did. Adam, lying on his back, bare-chested, curls crushed against grass or a mattress or whatever else their setting was that dream. His head was thrown back in laughter, sweet, melodious laughter, caused by the simple touch of a feather drawn softly across his skin by none other than Ronan himself.

Fuck.

It was getting more and more difficult to be around Adam now, as the only thing he could think about when he saw him was the sight of his naked body writhing and laughing under Ronan’s soft touch. Adam joked and teased and kissed him like normal, unaware of this strange secret desire that Ronan harbored. Sometimes he spent the night. It was harder to explain the feathers then.

“Dreaming about pillows,” he explained when Adam woke up surrounded by feathers as well, one eyebrow raised at the mess. “Big ones. Big enough to suffocate you with. Haven’t quite got it down yet but I’m working on it.”

“Ha,” Adam said, a single consonant by itself that said Ronan was full of shit but he wasn’t going to pursue the issue if Ronan didn’t want to talk about it. So they didn’t. They cleaned up the feathers and stuffed them in the trash, and Adam joked that they really could make a pillow if they wanted. Ronan kissed him because he had learned recently that kissing was a very effective way to shut Adam up.

The dreams, however, their desire unfulfilled, began to grow more ambitious in their designs. One day he woke up with handcuffs. Handcuffs and feathers. He hadn’t known a way to explain it so he only shrugged when Adam asked him, throwing the handcuffs in the trash as well. Adam didn’t ask him again, but now his eyes remained on him, a piercing gaze that Ronan found himself unable to hold in return. They cleaned up the mess again and went about their day, refusing to acknowledge the reality of the situation.

Eventually things grew to be too much and when Adam woke surrounded by feathers for the fifth time that week he turned to Ronan and demanded, “Talk to me.”

Ronan, groggily, sat up and shoved off a pile of feathers. “Fuck off.”

Adam circled his wrist with his fingers, not quite grabbing, a gentle insistent tug so that Ronan finally looked at him. “Hey,” he whispered, not pitying or demanding, just a quiet noise for Ronan to focus on. “Ronan.”

Ronan held his gaze a second longer before diverting it to a wall across from them, able to either look at him or talk but not both, not at the same time. “I’ve been dreaming about tickling you.”

Adam was silent. He was half-tempted to look back, and the desire grew to a needy itch that he forced himself not to scratch. Finally Adam said, “Oh.”

Neither of them moved or spoke. Ronan could feel energy, red-hot like molten iron running through his veins, and he wanted to bolt, to run, to blaze through a whole fucking marathon and never come back. He didn’t.

“I’m not going to,” Ronan assured him, a bit too quickly. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

He finally looked at him because if he didn’t he was going to explode. Adam was holding a feather between his fingers, staring at it and twirling it ruminatively. He grabbed Ronan’s hand, placing the feather there and closing his fingers around it. “Okay.”

It was like someone had knocked the feet out from under him. He snapped his gaze to Adam, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“I’m not forcing you to.”

“I know.”

“So if you don’t want to—”

“Ronan.”

He was blushing. Adam was blushing and it spread across his face like wildfire, tinging the ends of his ears. The sight made Ronan’s limbs tremble. “I want to. I mean, I want to try.”

Ronan looked down at the feather held in his hands, spinning it gently as Adam had done. “Okay.”

“Okay.” For a moment that was that and they sat in silence, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Then Adam spoke, hesitantly. “Should I…?” He indicated his t-shirt and with a stiff, jerky nod from Ronan he pulled it off, throwing it on the floor away from them. Ronan took a moment to appreciate his body, the stark lines and muscles that made him up, every part of him carved in perfect detail, like that of a statue. But he wasn’t a statue. He was soft and malleable, with bruises and moles and freckles that covered his skin like art. When Adam pulled his arms above his head, the skin stretched and arched with him.

“D-Do we start now or—mm!”

Adam’s sentence was cut off as Ronan drew a feather down the length of his arm, wanting to trace the contours. The feather was stiff and black, like those he often found lying around the house when Chainsaw was molting. He continued going up and down his arm for a while, content with the goosebumps prickling up and down Adam’s body like an invasion.

“Does it tickle?” he asked curiously, as Adam’s lips were pressed together in a tight line, having not spoken since the initial beginning. Now, though, he shakily opened them to reply.

“Not exactly,” he answered honestly, considering the question. “It’s more like… a soft itch, like when a bug crawls on your arm.” He paused. “It’s kind of pleasant, actually, in an unbearable kind of way. It’s hard to stay still, though.”

“Hmm.” Ronan moved the feather down quickly, now circling the outer edge of his armpit. Adam stiffened immediately, his mouth clamping shut as he focused on anything but the increasingly devastating feeling of that feather getting closer and closer to such a sensitive area. The edges of his lips were pulled into a reluctant smile that only grew wider when Ronan finally reached his destination.

“Does this tickle?” Ronan repeated, more sure of the answer this time. Adam gave a stiff, jerky nod, arms trembling. He looked like he wanted to say something, or laugh, or both, but he refused to open his mouth. Ronan found himself needing to hear what Adam’s laugh sounded like, genuine and helpless and carefree, a need that burrowed inside him and prompted him to pick up a second feather, quickly targeting his other side. Both armpits now being relentlessly assaulted by the feathers’ soft touch, Adam whimpered softly before a tiny giggle slipped out, followed by a second one and then a third one. Soon Adam was overcome by melodic giggles that seemed to almost trip out of him with each second that went by.

It was beautiful. It was everything Ronan had dreamed it would be, only better because this time it wasn’t his imagination conjuring up flickering images. This time it was Adam, real and alive with laughter that stumbled and fell in heart-stopping bursts. 

Ronan never wanted it to end. 

There was only so long that Adam could keep his arms up, however, with Ronan relentlessly tormenting the singular area. With a soft whine Adam drew his arms back down, clutching them across his chest protectively.

Ronan paused, worried he had overstepped a boundary. “Do you want me to stop?”

Adam blushed, shaking his head. “No, it just… it really tickles, okay? I can’t hold still for it. Maybe try somewhere else?”

Ronan nodded and Adam carefully placed his hands back above his head. For a while he merely swirled the feather along his shivering form, circling the soft, vulnerable skin of his stomach and dipping down across the V of his hips. Adam managed to contain his laughter at this, but he expressed its effect in the way his stomach jumped and contracted under the feather’s touch and the shuddering sound of his breath as he inhaled. 

As he did so, Ronan considered his splayed out form for a moment, trying to think of a spot the feather would have the greatest effect on, aside from the obvious. He knew for a fact that harder tickles worked on Adam; the two had been friends for years beforehand and there were sparse moments when Gansey would dig his knuckles into his ribs affectionately or Ronan would goose his sides in passing. 

It was not harsh, intensive tickling that he desired right then, however. At that moment, he wanted to see strong, prideful Adam fall to such a simple thing as the touch of a feather.

Glancing up at Adam to make sure this was okay, Ronan firmly gripped each of his thighs and pulled them apart. Having worn only a thin t-shirt, lying discarded on the floor, and boxers to bed, the entirety of his speckled, tan thighs was on display for the other boy to admire. Ronan traced a hand wonderingly over them, momentarily distracted from his mission. It was only when he saw Adam squirm beneath his touch that he was reminded once more. He picked up the feather and then, after considering for a moment, grabbed quite a few others as well. He traced the long plumage up his thighs, a thousand fluttery kisses that surprised a squeak from Adam.

“W-Wait!” he stuttered, grinning helplessly. “T-Thahahat’s nohot fahair!”

“You agreed to this,” Ronan reminded him, delighting in his reactions though his face remained stoic. “Remember?”

“B-Buhuhut—” Adam protested, but ultimately he could find no excuse for something he had asked for, and fell back on the bed in a pile of giggles. It was unfair, he held fast to that. It was unfair because there was no possible way Adam could have known he was that ticklish on his thighs or that a feather would tickle him as much as it did. He had hardly ever been touched there, and when he had it was usually by Ronan and usually in far more erotic scenes than their current one.

He would like to say that had he known how sensitive he was, he would have told Ronan no. However, as sparks of feeling scurried through his nervous system to his brain, filling him with a sensation not too far off from floating, he thought that maybe he wouldn’t have. Adam closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the feeling and to the idea that this was far from the last time that Ronan would take a feather, or other things, to his skin in that torturous way.

Adam couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

[litwitlady]

Date Nights (4/5)

Read on Ao3.

‘Are you really going to chop down a tree?’ Alex eyes him warily from the opposite side of the Chevy’s bench seat. ‘There’s plenty of lovely trees that have been pre-chopped.’

Michael climbs out of the truck, reaching into the bed to grab his shiny new ax. ‘Yes. I am definitely chopping down a tree today.’ He settles the ax’s handle over his shoulder and sets off in the direction of the neatly planted fir trees.

Alex trudges after him, stepping carefully through the melting snow. He catches up easily because Michael keeps stopping at every single tree to assess its ‘curvature’. ‘This one looks perfect.’ He points to the tree behind Michael, and it earns him an exasperated frown.

‘The bottom is not bushy enough.’ Alex furrows his brow, and Michael motions around the tree like he’s going to hug it. ‘The circumference is lacking.’ He circles around the tree to further make his point. ‘I didn’t move your heavy ass keyboard out of the way for such a sad, puny little Charlie Brown Christmas tree.’

The ‘sad, puny’ tree is literally eight feet tall.

‘You mean when you moved my heavy ass keyboard with your brain and didn’t break a sweat?’ Alex smirks at him fondly.

‘That’s not the point.’

Alex snorts. ‘I’m going to go get some apple cider. Want any?’

Michael’s already moved three trees down, but he shouts yes over his shoulder and throws in a request for an apple cruller. ‘I’ll find the perfect tree, Alex! She’s here somewhere.’ He’s now nothing more than a disembodied voice.

The line for apple cider isn’t terribly long. Alex scrolls through his text messages while he waits, rolling his eyes at a vaguely threatening message from Isobel demanding their attendance at her pre-Christmas dinner in a few hours. He responds by telling her they’ll try to be there knowing exactly what her face will look like when she reads the word try.

He buys the largest-sized cider, pays for two crullers, and heads back toward the spot he’d left Michael. The tree farm is much busier now - kids laughing and running zigzags through the trees, chainsaws roaring, and couples everywhere arguing over which tree is best. It takes him ages to find Michael, deep down a row of giant firs and talking to a man Alex doesn’t recognize. The way he towers over Michael sets every nerve in Alex’s body on high alert.

The stranger has his back to Alex. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and olive-skinned. Like Michael, he’s got a cowboy hat situated on his head and dusty work boots on his feet. Alex doesn’t need him to turn around to know the man is unfairly gorgeous. All he needs to see is that familiar lopsided smile spread across Michael’s face and the way his eyes keep dropping bashfully to the ground. Out of habit and maybe a pinch of something far more complicated than jealousy, he assesses the man’s body for hidden weapons, but there’s no way to truly know what’s under his burly, fleece-lined coat.

‘Got the cider. Who’s this?’ He steps beside Michael and turns to the stupidly attractive bear of a man. Big green eyes and a smattering of freckles putting a scowl on Alex’s face.

‘Ah, this is Jamie Whitley.’ There’s uncertainty in Michael’s voice and that sets Alex even more on edge, hackles raised. He passes off the cider and crullers to Michael, ostensibly to shake Jamie Whitley’s enormous hands. But really he just feels better and more prepared with both his hands free. ‘Jamie and I worked as ranch hands together a couple of summers a few years back.’

‘Had a real shitty foreman. Seems like we were always in some kind of trouble. But we were also the best workers that man had. Maybe ever.’ His voice is gruff, smoky. The kind of voice Alex has always envied when he’s singing. Jamie beams at Michael while he shakes Alex’s hand, grip firm and unyielding. Alex assumes it’s a warning and squares his shoulders, unconsciously sliding a step closer to Michael.

Michael reaches out and squeezes Alex’s elbow. ‘Jamie, this is Alex Manes. My boyfriend.’ It’s the first time he’s heard Michael call him that to someone other than their circle of friends. He says it so sure and certain that Alex takes a deep breath and lets go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

Jamie’s eyes dart to Alex, obvious recognition flooding his features. ‘The Alex Manes?’ He narrows his eyes at Alex, sizing him up differently now that he has a name to go along with the face. ‘I used to hear a lot about you.’

‘I’m sure I deserved most of it.’ Alex’s jaw clenches, and Michael digs his fingernails into his bicep.

‘Well, it was a long time ago. People change. And this one always loved you, no matter what.’ He leans in to hug Michael goodbye, forcing Alex aside a couple of steps. Michael’s arms flail out to the side, hands still full of cider and cruller. But he smiles gently at Alex over Jamie’s shoulder, and Alex returns the smile, starting to feel a little silly. ‘It’s great seeing you again, Guerin. You look good. Real good.’

With nothing more than a nod at Alex, he disappears from sight.

‘So you two definitely fucked.’ Alex takes one of the crullers from Michael’s hand. He does his best to keep anything remotely negative out of his voice. But he knows he hasn’t been entirely successful.

Michael gulps at the cider. ‘On and off. But mostly, Jamie was a friend. It was after you left for Afghanistan. Your second tour.’

Alex nods. ‘That was a rough goodbye.’

‘They were all rough goodbyes.’ It’s said so low Alex almost doesn’t hear him. ‘Look, Alex.’ He stares after Jamie’s footprints in the snow. ‘That was weird as fuck and -- ‘

‘Hey.’ Alex places what he hopes is a calming hand on Michael’s chest. ‘It’s fine. And I should have been friendlier. I’m actually really glad you had someone. That giant man wouldn’t have necessarily been my first choice, but -- ‘

Michael laughs, still a little uneasy but his shoulders relax. ‘I found the perfect tree. She reminds me of you.’ He swallows his cruller in three bites and then grabs Alex’s wrist, dragging him through a few rows of trees.

They stop in front of the biggest tree on the lot. At least fifteen feet tall and slightly terrifying in its girth. ‘How exactly does this tree remind you of me? I feel like it’s going to eat us.’

‘Well, yeah.’ He elbows Alex playfully in the ribs. ‘Protective. Strong, slightly imposing, barrel-bodied. And beautiful.’

‘The shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes, Guerin.’ But he’s smiling and Michael is smiling and then they are kissing. Easily losing themselves in each other as is so often the case. Only barely managing to stay on this side of public decency before they are interrupted by two kids bursting through their tangled legs as they chase each other around the farm.

They both grin after the kids and turn back to Michael’s perfect Christmas tree. ‘You know, my ceilings aren’t tall enough for this tree.’

‘That’s okay. This is the patio tree. Once I chop this one down, we can start looking for our indoor tree.’ He grabs the ax he’s left sitting under the tree and rears back to take his first swing. Alex walks several feet away and watches Michael wedge the ax into the trunk, barely making a scratch. ‘Huh. Harder than I thought. I should probably just go find someone with a chainsaw.’

Alex snorts his agreement, taking the ax from Michael as he sets off to search for help. He reaches up to tug on one of the Douglas fir’s branches, a little overwhelmed at the idea of spending their first Christmas together. But good overwhelmed. Like the first time he’d left the ground in an A-10 Warthog, the sky opening up so vast and endless. The sun only a heartbeat away.

He loves Michael. And Michael loves him. These nine weeks of work they’ve put in to get them to this moment, where Alex can stand in front of a Christmas tree with pure joy in his heart rather than abject terror, are the best nine weeks of his life. Standing in front of this tree - their tree - he vows that come Christmas morning, Michael will know with every fiber of his being just how much Alex loves him. And Christmas will be theirs forever, happy and so filled with joy that even the Evanses will be sick with envy.

It’s not the most gracious thought Alex has ever had. But then again, he’s never been the most gracious person. And for once in his life, he decides that’s okay.

[irrelevantwriter]

Acts of Service

Pairing: Negan x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, Daddy kink, mentions of bodily fluids, oral sex (female and male receiving), titty fucking (is there a nicer term?), vaginal fingering, Negan and his big dick energy

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Part 2. We continue on our quest through all that foreplay has to offer with some enthusiastic acts of service.

A/N: Soooooooo, I felt like adding another part to The Art of Foreplay. If you haven’t read it, you definitely don’t have to but also you should could. I’m really into the idea of exploring foreplay with Negan and a wife who’s insistent on not sleeping with him. It’s kinda refreshing to not write the actual act of sex and I’m having a lot of fun thinking of all the ways I can expand on this. I hope you guys are down with it and like it. If so, maybe I’ll add more parts in the future. And I definitely have to give a shout out and thank you to @negans-lucille-tblr​ bc without her foreplay challenge, this idea would not exist so thanks girl! Feedback is that good shit. Enjoy and share with your friends!

A/N dos: Also, latex/patent lingerie is a thing. I got some interesting results when I googled it. Lots of latex suits lol. 

*Check out part one: The Art of Foreplay 

*Check out part three: Pillow Talk

*Foreplay series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

“You rang?”

You announced yourself as you entered Negan’s quarters without knocking. He was expecting you, though his summons had come nearly an hour earlier. You knew he’d be displeased with your tardiness, but you had good reason…at least you thought you did.

“Fucking finally…”

Your eyes found him seated on his couch, his body the picture of relaxation. He was holding a glass tumbler filled with an amber liquid, his long arms stretched along the back of the couch. His leather jacket was discarded near him, the stretch of his white t-shirt showcasing the broadness of his chest and shoulders. His hair was slicked back, his tongue licking his lips as he eyed you. There was a mix of disapproval and lust reflecting in the orbs, the intensity of it making you shiver.

He looked dangerous. He looked like all the things your parents had warned you about. He was a fire burning out of control. A tornado destroying everything in its wake. A tsunami flattening the earth. He was a natural disaster. A whirlwind of disorder and menace.

And you were jumping headfirst into the chaos.

“What the fuck took you so long?” He asked with an obvious annoyed tone. His eyes traced your form as you stepped closer, the appreciation of your feminine form still present despite his irritation. The black dress your wore accentuated your curves, inviting him to visually consume you. He didn’t disappoint.

“I was getting ready for you, my dear husband.” You responded with a coquettish smile, coming to a halt between his widely spread thighs. You fluttered your made-up eyes down at him, licked at your painted lips as his expression started to soften. A grin began to split his lips, the whites of his teeth a stark contrast to the golden shade of his skin.

Negan chuckled, bringing the glass still clasped in his hand to his lips. You watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. His gaze never wavered from you, watching you watching him. It made you feel exposed.

“Finally gonna let me fuck that pussy out of commission?” He taunted, the roughness of his voice settling like hot lava between your thighs.

“Not yet.” You replied with a shake of your head, your feet unconsciously shifting you closer to his body.

He caught the movement, a smirk breaking out onto his face. He leant forward slightly as his free hand glided up your exposed leg and thigh, stopping at the hem of your dress. His fingers gripped the flesh, edging upwards under the fabric. His touch felt like an electric shock, his hand instantly searing your skin. You didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to deny him. The temptation of giving yourself completely to such a man no longer felt reckless. Instead, it felt instinctual; as if your need for him was now embedded into your DNA.

“But,” You started, voice regaining its composure as he continued to trail his fingers under your dress. “I do have a surprise for you.”

His eyes danced with amusement, his devilish tongue sliding along his lips. “I do love surprises.”

You turned your back to him, forcing his hand to separate from your thigh. You glanced at him from over your shoulder, gesturing to the long silver zipper that held the fabric of your dress together.

“Help me out?”

“Fucking gladly, doll.” He said with all the boyish glee of a kid on Christmas morning. He shifted forward and began to release the metal teeth, revealing your back and the undergarments you wore.

Once he was done, you turned back around to face him, the dress now dangling precariously off your body. You pulled your arms out of the sleeves, maintaining eye contact with Negan as you did. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as the material caught on your hips before you shimmied and let the fabric fall in a heap at your feet. You kicked it away, your arms slightly outstretched to keep your balance on the heels you wore.

“Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw…” Negan rasped, his body once again sunken into the cushions of the couch. The position allowed him to take you in all at once, to admire his gift in all its glory.

You forced yourself to stay still as his eyes burned over every inch of your body, the rapid breaths of his chest giving him away. You were half-naked, your breasts encased by a black latex bralette while your lower half was barely concealed by a matching pair of latex panties. The set was one you’d found hidden among the scraps of lace and silk Negan had brought back for the wives. The glint of the shiny fabric had immediately caught your eye and you’d snatched it before anyone could notice. The outfit obviously belonged amongst a selection of whips and chains, the insinuation clear. You weren’t necessarily looking to dominate your husband, but you were interested in being different…special. You wanted to stand out from the others. You wanted to capture Negan’s attention and hold it. And so far you’d been successful.

“What do you think?” You purred, aware that the question wasn’t needed. The shift in Negan’s hips was the answer.

He licked his lips again, rubbing at the shadowing of hair that covered his jaw. The strands were peppered with hints of grey, matching the hair at his temples. It was one of your favorite features. He wore the proof of age well, the fines lines and grey hairs a testament to the life he’d lived. And with that came experience. Experience that he loved to showcase for you.

“My dick is hard enough to crack skulls.”

His words made your body tingle, your heartbeat now centered within your throbbing pussy. Negan had that ability. He could get you to the very edge with just his words. Any filthy thing that crossed his mind, he said it. It was refreshing and overwhelmingly effective.

“I thought you might like it.” You said as you let your hands cradle your heaving breasts. They were pushed high up on your chest by the restricting latex, creating the best cleavage you’d ever had. Predictably, Negan’s hungry gaze followed.

“The shit looks painted on your fucking body. How the fuck you get that shit on?” He asked in awe, his hand reaching out to run along the smooth fabric that shielded your pussy.

You jerked at the feeling of his fingers barely grazing your lips. Even though the sensation was muted by the material between you, it still carried the weight of desire.

“Took forever. Hence my late arrival.” You whispered as he continued to dance his fingers along your body, the calloused digits forcing goosebumps to rise on your flesh. You gripped his shoulders as he straightened, his glass now abandoned on the couch cushion next to him. His mouth hovered over your stomach, his hot breaths panting in an erratic pattern. You could feel the ghosting of his lips as they painted your skin with kisses, his hands freely roaming your ass.

“You are one good fucking girl, aren’t you baby?” He questioned against your stomach, eyes centered up and on you.

Your thighs twitched and clasped together, effectively cutting off his wandering touch. Your nipples pebbled against the bralette, your back arching imperceptibly towards the air. Your walls flooded at his praise, overcome with his approval of you. It was enough to make you pull away and shove gently at his chest.

“There’s more…” You said with a mischievous smile, your hand forcing him to lean back against the sofa. He went willingly, too intrigued by your words to fight you for control. You sank to your knees and you swore his smile grew ten times wider. His thighs parted to make room for you as you took every opportunity to rub your body against him.

“Fucking hell...You are a fucking vision on your knees for me.” He admired, a wayward hand rubbing at his now very hard cock through his pants.

You said nothing in response, but you felt it. Watching him palm himself made a whimper leave your lips, your chest inching closer to his crotch to seek out any form of friction you could get. He noticed your actions and laughed, his hand continuing to ease the ache of his cock.

“Those titties need me, doll?”

You nodded, unable to form words.

“Pull me out.” He instructed, his hand finally leaving his body to allow you to take over. You shifted forward, hands instantly going to his belt. You undid the button on his dark trousers, pulling the material down his hips with his underwear. You moved the clothing just enough so that his swollen cock was free. His flesh was warm and solid in your hands, the sight inducing a Pavlovian response within you. Your mouth salivated, your pussy thrummed as you bent forward and licked him from base to tip. A low groan filled the room as you did, the sound only fueling your lust.

You allowed your mouth to fill with saliva and suctioned the head of his cock lightly, coating him for your consumption. You let your mouth do most of the work for now, your hand holding him steady. You attacked his flesh like a rapid melting popsicle on a hot summer day. You were determined to savor every drop of him.

“Spit.” He commanded suddenly. You met his eyes as you conjured up enough liquid and did as he said, covering him. “Fuck.” He cursed, fingers dancing along your scalp. You could feel his restraint as he struggled not to choke you down onto him, letting you set your pace.

With the added lubrication, you were able to move easier and you used it to your advantage. Your mouth moved along his length, allowing him to hit the back of your throat and sit there. Mumbled curses and growls spurred you on as your hand began working in tandem with your mouth. You threw all caution to the wind, uncaring of how disheveled you might look with saliva coating your chin and mascara running down your cheeks. Your only concern was getting your husband off.

You remained unmoving as Negan’s hips began to thrust. He was gentle at first, barely moving, but now he assaulted your throat with a vengeance, his hand no longer practicing self-control. He kept you locked to him, your nose brushing against the hair that trailed from just below his navel. Tears erupted from your eyes as you struggled to breathe, but you didn’t pull away. You let him fuck your throat, let him desecrate your mouth in the way you knew he wanted to do to your pussy. The thought sent a new wave of arousal that settled in your panties.

“Goddamn, doll…” He groaned as he finally released your head and allowed you to take in air.

You swallowed away the spittle and sting of pain he’d left in his wake, though a line of saliva still kept you momentarily connected to him. You took in his spit soaked cock, the head an angry shade of red. The tip was dotted with a clear liquid, the saltiness lingering on your tongue. His hand was back to stroking himself, the flesh sliding easily against each other.

“You almost made me fucking cum.” He exclaimed with heavy breaths as he squeezed the base of his cock, his pupils blown out and masking his colorful irises.

You wiped at your chin and moved your hips against nothing, your desperation magnifying. You wanted so badly to cum, the persistent throbbing of your pussy a constant reminder. But you were far from done with Negan.

You wordlessly grasped his cock, shooing his own hand away. He watched in rapt fascination as you pulled the lower edge of the latex covering your breasts away from your body. With your free hand you slipped Negan’s cock easily beneath the hem and sheathed him right between your breasts. He was trapped between your flesh and the constricting fabric, but he obviously was in no hurry to remove himself.

“You gonna let me fuck those titties, baby?”

His voice was low and wanting, his excitement palpable. You met his gaze and nodded as you began to move your upper body. The extra lubrication aided your movements as you pushed your breasts together, squeezing his cock in a way that had him throwing his head back.

“Shit, that feels fucking amazing.” He groaned, his abdomen tensing with each stroke.

You moved slowly at first, finding a steady rhythm. His hips moved with you, sliding his cock between your breasts like he was sliding between your legs. You watched him, mesmerized by the way his pleasure held him prisoner. A man as powerful as Negan was rarely seen as vulnerable, yet you had the benefit of seeing him so undone, and it did more for you than you’d ever thought possible.

“Cum for me, Daddy…” You softly demanded. His wild eyes met yours and you took advantage, spitting on his cock again. You felt him twitch against your chest, the action having the desired effect.

“Fucking fuck. Can I cum on your titties?” He asked, the exertion clear in his voice.

“You can cum anywhere you want.” You said, a tender lilt coating your words. Your body never broke stride, continuing to take his cock while your hands held your breasts together. Precum was leaking from his tip, lubricating your movements as you increased your pace.

“Show me those gorgeous tits, baby…lemme see ‘em.” Negan grunted, the veins in his neck bulging with effort.  

You obeyed, pulling your arms from the straps and pushing the materiel down your torso so that it no longer wrapped around your breasts. You removed him from beneath the band of the bra, his flesh now freely bouncing over yours. You took a minute to tease him, letting the head of his cock rub sensuously at your nipples. Your body hummed with satisfaction at the way his jaw clenched and his knuckles gripped at the sofa beneath him. He was breathing through his nose, the rhythm almost sounding angry if not for the simple fact that his cock was wedged between your tits.

He was getting close. You could feel him tense, practically hear his teeth cracking with how hard he was biting down. You sped up your movements, your breasts bouncing against his cock in tight strokes. You played with your nipples as he stared down at you, danger of a different kind completely clouding his gaze.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

You doubled your efforts and was immediately rewarded for it. Warm ropes of cum coated your chest and neck, the liquid landing with a heaviness that made your pussy clamp around itself. Negan grunted and groaned above you, head thrown back and hips stuttering as he released. You continued to move, milking him for all he was worth. His cock spasmed as his body tensed with orgasmic relief. His skin turned flush as a fine sheen of sweat broke out onto the surface. You slowed your touch when he hissed against the oversensitivity, his cock now going soft.

“Jesus fucking Christ, doll. Were you trying to fuck the life outta me?” He joked, his words interrupted by heavy panting.

You flashed a self-satisfied smirk while gently stroking his now flaccid cock. You felt his cum trailing down your chest in thick rivulets. You were still unsatisfied and brimming with need. Urged on by Negan’s heavy-lidded gaze, you grasped your breasts in your hands, rubbing his cum into your skin. He grunted in approval, the edge of his tongue peeking from the confines of his mouth.

“You need Daddy, don’t you baby?”

His voice washed over you like molasses, the sensual roughness of it only adding to the blaze burning inside of you. A strand of hair broke free from the rest as it rested against his forehead. That predatory stare was back in his eyes as he regarded your yearning for him. You moaned in response, a call to your lover.

He answered.

“Stand up.”

You climbed onto shaky feet, using his legs as support. You waited and watched as he slipped himself back into his pants, leaving the buttons undone. He scooted to the edge of the couch, his face now even with the place that ached the most. His hands wasted no time as they gripped the edge of your panties and pulled. The material made it difficult to do so, but Negan’s strength was no match for yours and he was able to relieve you of the latex far quicker than you’d been able to dress in them. You went to step out of your heels, but he gave a firm shake of his head, silently expressing not to.

“On the bed. Face down and pussy skyward.” He ordered gruffly, gesturing to the majestic piece of furniture he referred to as his bed. The mattress was settled high onto a wooden frame, grey and black sheets covering the soft pillow beneath.

You did as he said, crawling onto the bed and arching your back so that your face was pressed against the Egyptian cotton sheets. The mess on your chest transferred to the fabric beneath you and you delighted in the small fact that you were staining his pristine bed. You listened closely, knowing better than to look over your shoulder. His footsteps were muted against the rug, but you could feel his presence at your back. You were perched near the edge of the bed, easily accessible for what you knew was about to come next.

“This pussy really needs a Daddy’s touch, baby…” He breathed against your soaked sex, his fingers tracing the outer edges of your lips. “You sure you don’t want my cock instead?”

You angled your hips closer to him, begging for a reprieve after being so good to him. You were just about to plead for mercy when his tongue assaulted your pussy with one long swipe. You tried not to flinch away from the onslaught of pleasure, clutching the bedding beneath you with a grip that mirrored Negan’s only moments before.

“Shit,” You moaned as his hands gripped your ass, positioning you perfectly on his waiting mouth. He spread you so that you were on display and accessible, his hot breath tickling your thighs.

“You didn’t answer my question, doll.”

You struggled to remember what he’d asked, his tongue slowly torturing you by tracing your swollen lips but never penetrating beyond that point. You whimpered, trying to shift yourself closer to his warmth.

“Please, Negan…” You unabashedly begged, ready to be put out of your misery.

“Wrong.”

A fierce slap reverberated from your pussy, forcing a yelp from your parted lips. You jerked away but heavy hands kept you in place.

“Daddy!” You amended, hoping he was in a forgiving mood.

A gentle touch rubbed at your opening, easing the sting that had settled between your thighs. The strike had hurt more so than usual because of the moisture that coated your flesh. Your tensed muscles eased some as he lazily teased your clit, a long finger barely entering you.

“That’s better. Relax for Daddy and lemme take care of you.” He soothed.

You submitted and eased the hold your fists had on the blankets. You felt him drag you closer, opening you up for his attack. You waited with baited breath until his tongue pierced you. You gasped as he devoured you from behind, his finger still rubbing at your clit. His entire mouth encased you, his tongue dragging along your soaked walls. You struggled to stay put as he tasted every inch of you, his tongue useful for more than just witty quips and inappropriate humor.

“I’m close.” You moaned as he moved faster and harder, the tendrils of ecstasy beginning to pull you under. You didn’t need much. Pleasuring Negan like you did had set you on a face track for climax before he’d ever even touched you.

Your muscles burned with unreleased tension, your pussy struggling to clench down on Negan’s tongue. The sound of his lips sloppily drinking from your body filled the room as it threatened to send you over the edge.

“Cum for me. Cum for Daddy.”

Two fingers filled you unexpectedly, forcing your pussy to accommodate. You arched your back against the sensations, feeling the sweet burn begin to make its way up from the tips of your toes. Stars danced behind your tightly shut eyes as your entire body tremored against Negan’s rapidly moving fingers. Your walls squeezed around the appendages, flooding them with your release. You could vaguely hear the appreciative curses from your husband as your body succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure it’d been victim to.

“Oh, god…” You moaned as your high began to settle. The lustful fog was still thick, but you began to come back into your body, your exhaustion now taking over. Your face was still pressed against the bed, your lower half still sitting high. Negan’s hands were caressing your ass, his fingers trailing in the slickness that now coated your thighs.

“I cannot wait to have this tight cunt wrapped around me.” He emphasized his statement with a palm to your thoroughly ravaged pussy, his hand rubbing through your folds with lazy strokes.

You pulled away, too sensitive to have him touching you with such force. “Don’t.” You whimpered.

He released you, but your reprieve was short-lived. He turned you onto your back, your lethargic body unable to fight against his. Your legs were kept spread by his body between them, the grin on his lips almost wide enough to split his face. He appraised your supple form, taking note of the drying tracks of him still marring your chest. His hands grasped your breasts, touching with careful precision. You could feel him watching your face, waiting for you to push him away. But you didn’t.

“You’re gorgeous.” He admitted, new flames of desire roaring to life in his eyes.

“And you’re full of shit.” You teased, your legs trapping his fully clothed body against your nude one.

“I never lie about post-coitus glows, doll.” Negan said with a wink, a finger tracing your nipple.

You outwardly laughed at his words, choosing to ignore the spark his touch induced. “Good to know.”

He eyed you for a long moment, long enough to make you feel self-conscious. You would’ve thought he was trying to read your thoughts, but the smirk he wore said something else. There was a reverence to his gaze, as if he was in astonishment of your existence. That’s what you needed from him. You were more than one amongst five in a harem. Negan was starting to see that too.

“Give Daddy some sugar.” He ordered with a finger tapping his bearded lips.

You let out a girlish giggle, but took the hand he offered so that you could sit upright. You met him in a kiss, the action far from gentle and fueled by passion. Tongues tasted the other, teeth clashed as your lips moved in sync with the other. Your hands ran through his hair while his settled at your hips, running the length of your back.

You both pulled away when air became an issue, the look of satiation surely reflecting in both of your faces. Negan ran a thumb under your eye, no doubt attempting to clean the smeared mascara that had settled there.

“You know, for not getting pounded by my dick, you sure fucking look like you did.” Negan teased with a chuckle as he cradled your face in his hands.

“Gee, thanks.” You retorted flatly, aware that his words were very true. You were sure you looked a complete mess…a gorgeous mess in Negan’s eyes.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, doll.”

He helped you off the bed, leading you to his bathroom. You ditched your heels as you walked with him, aware that the longer you did this with him, the harder it was going to be to deny him each time. More time spent with Negan meant more time for temptation that you were positive you wanted. You’d been ready to sleep with him, but having him consume you in every other way but fucking you made it all the more sweeter. And soon enough you knew you’d break.

It was only a matter of time.

[immodestmussorgskyy]

campers anonymous

“Alright, everybody. Our meeting is in session!” Wraith gave the room a warm smile and rang his bell twice. “Let’s start with names? Trapper, how about you go first?”

A few audible sighs could be heard. Wraith could practically feel some of the eyerolls the killers were giving, most notably Ghostface and Legion, but remained optimistic. 

Trapper wrung his hands nervously and looked around the room. Almost all of his fellow killers sat around him in a circle, except the ones that refused to attend. Even the ones that were wearing masks seemed to stare at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. 

“Um, my name is Evan. But you guys know me as Trapper. I’ve been clean from camping for two trials now.” 

“Hi, Evan.” came the monotone chorus of voices around him. 

“Okay, your turn, Billy.” Wraith gestured towards the hulking and deformed creature sitting to his left. 

“My name is Max. I…” he looked to the floor in shame. “I haven’t really stopped camping at all.” To everybody’s surprise, the chainsaw-toting maniac had a very polite and subdued voice. 

“Hi, Max.” this time, the greetings were followed by some murmurs of consolation. 

Everybody turned towards the Shape, who sat motionlessly in his chair. Nothing could be heard from him except for muffled breathing. Wraith wasn’t even sure why he came to the meeting. He never contributed, nor did he greet anybody or try to create a welcoming environment. Nobody pushed him to come to Campers Anonymous, but he showed up anyway. It was puzzling, to say the least. 

“I know our friend the Shape here isn’t really comfortable with talking, so I’ll introduce him to you all. Everybody, this is Michael. I’m not sure how long he’s been camping--” said Wraith. 

“Not at all, actually!” piped Spirit. “I mean, he used to, but ever since we had our last meeting, he’s been doing really well.” she offered the Shape a smile, which he did not return or acknowledge. 

“Excellent! Well, everybody, say hi to Michael! Ghostface, how about you--”

“Hi, hello, whatever. My name is Danny, and I haven’t been clean from camping the hook at all, ever, because I don’t fucking camp.” Ghostface leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Nobody could see his expression behind his mask, but everybody knew that he had that signature why am I here, fuck all of you look on his face. 

“Oh yeah? You don’t camp? Sitting in a bush next to the hook with your stupid shroud shit counts as camping, you dumbfuck.” Legion retorted viciously. “Why are you even here, anyway?” 

“It’s called stalking, smart one.” Ghostface’s voice grew venomous as he flipped Legion the bird. “And I’m here so I can laugh at you amateurs that still get kills from camping.” 

“Stalking, my ass. That is literally camping. The only difference is that you’re sitting in a bush like a complete kook.” 

“Hey, why the fuck are you here, then? If you haven’t already noticed, you’re the only one from your little family that got invited here, because the rest of them are actually decent at killing.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Legion growled, springing from his chair with his hand on his knife. “If we could harm each other your guts would be all over the floor, you little bitch. And for the record, I’m here because I actually want to improve my skills and better myself. Bet you don’t know what that’s like at all.”

Ghostface scoffed and waved his knife in the air nonchalantly. “Whatever you say, King Frank. Keep crying. Somebody will change your diaper eventually.” 

Legion gave an enraged scream and charged towards Ghostface, but was grabbed by the hood and pulled back by Trapper. Wraith gave him a look of gratitude. 

“Didn’t I say no weapons at our CA meetings? Please, this is no place to fight. We’re all here to better ourselves.” he rubbed his nose in exasperation and prompted the others to continue. 

The greetings went around the circle, even to Huntress and Plague, who had obvious language barriers. Plague was also sitting six feet outside the circle, coughing into a bloodstained handkerchief. She didn’t seem to mind the separation, every now and again enthusiastically contributing something that nobody could really understand. 

“Our topic today is successes. Little victories. I know that camping can make us feel very isolated and guilty, but today we’ll share our stories of success. And if you don’t have any successes you can think of, tell us something positive about your last trial.” Wraith adjusted his glasses and gave another smile to the group. “Our discussion will be popcorn style today, friends. Just speak whenever you feel ready.” 

Nobody spoke. 

Finally, Nurse interrupted the long silence and cleared her throat. “I tried using three blinks instead of camping the hook in my last trial. Two people escaped, but I felt better that I didn’t camp them.” Some nods of approval went around the circle. 

“Thank you for sharing, Sally. Anybody else?” 

Spirit raised her hand. “I stopped camping a few trials ago and I’ve really improved my chasing skills. I think I’m doing a lot better with my phase walking abilities, too. I hope you all know what it’s like to not be a camper one day.” She rested her hands on her lap and gave everybody a proud smile. 

“That’s great, Rin. I’m glad that you experienced that.” Wraith said warmly. “What about you, Frank?”

Legion shrugged. “I never really camped to begin with, but I’ve been trying to look for other survivors more instead of just patrolling the hooked ones. Nothing special about it, though.” 

“Hey, that’s progress.” Nurse rasped. Legion gave her a nod. 

Just then, a loud, metallic scraping could be heard from down the hall, accompanied by heavy footsteps. Plod, plod, screeeeech. Plod, plod, screeeech.

“Oh, great. That triangle-headed freak is going to join us.” grumbled Ghostface, who was shot an irritated glance by Wraith. The Executioner stopped and stood in the doorway. 

“Pyramid Head! I’m so glad you could make it. Please, find a chair and have a seat.” 

As if pondering his request, the Executioner tilted his massive pyramid head to the side, then plodded forward. A few of the killers flinched at the screeching of his blade on the floor, then jumped as he dropped it with a loud clang. He moved slowly and deliberately, pulling one of the small chairs from a stack in the corner of the room and forcing himself between Ghostface and Legion. The chair he was perched atop was dwarfed by his massive stature. Secretly, Wraith was glad the silent beast of a man was here. He would at least serve as a barrier between the two squabbling young men. 

It was curious as to why the Executioner showed up to these meetings, too, considering the fact that his entire existence was dedicated to executing judgment against survivors. Wraith was surprised that he even cared enough about a survivor’s trial experience enough to come to a meeting about ending camping addictions. Like the Shape, he didn’t speak, but at least made low rumbling noises of agreement occasionally. It was sweet, in a bizarre way, that he at least enjoyed everybody’s company enough to sit in silence and spectate their group therapy. 

“Do you have anything to share with us today?” Wraith said, offering him a cheerful smile. He always asked, even though the Executioner rarely gave him any acknowledgment or answer. But it was Wraith’s imperative that all killers deserved to be included, even if they didn’t have anything to contribute. 

The monstrous man sat silently for a moment, then stood and retrieved his blade. He heaved it from the ground, dragged it with a loud screeeech between his and Ghostface’s chairs. The smaller killer huffed and glared at the back of his bloodstained helmet. The Executioner dragged it to the middle of the circle and held it out proudly towards Wraith, almost offering him the handle, its tip digging into the linoleum floor. 

Upon closer inspection, the grimy, impossibly sharp edge of his blade was covered in fresh blood and viscera that could only be survivor guts. 

“Oh? You’ve… gotten more kills?” Wraith guessed. 

The Executioner nodded and motioned with his hands as if asking him to continue.

“You’ve gotten more moris?” 

He nodded eagerly, resting the handle of his blade under his arm to clap in excitement. He mimed a crushing motion with one of his hands, then thrust it forward like he was stabbing something. Wraith beamed. It was exciting seeing one of the more shy killers get a little excited over their memento mori offerings. The Executioner dragged the blade behind him back to his seat and rested it gently on the ground next to his chair. 

“Okay, well, this is boring as fuck and I have better things to be doing.” Ghostface sneered.

“Oh yeah? Like whacking off to pictures of people in the shower, you perv? Have fun.” Legion said. 

“Listen, kid, I’m not going to tolerate more of your bullshit--” 

The Executioner roared and grabbed each of the young men by their collars, shaking them violently. The two fell back into stunned silence as they were dropped back onto their seats. Hopefully, this would shut them up for a while. 

“Uh… can I go now?” Oni said. Wraith nodded at him. “I haven’t stopped camping at all.” He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “But last trial I got to mori somebody right at the exit gate.” 

“Were they the last one?” Trapper asked. 

“Yeah. But they just hid the entire time and didn’t do any gens, so I figured their teammates wouldn’t really mind.”

“Nice.” 

The rest of the killers went around and shared their stories. The positive developments made Wraith gleam on the inside. Only two meetings in and everybody was getting to know each other, even developing friendships, and even the shyer killers were beginning to speak up. Except the Shape, but nobody was really bothered by the silent man anymore. Soon, the clock on the wall read 12:30 and killers began giving their goodbyes and filing out of the room.

“Bye, suckers.” Ghostface hopped out of his chair, the first to leave. He said that he only came to these meetings to gloat, but Wraith knew better. He just enjoyed the company. 

“Thanks for the meeting, Wraith.” Legion said gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he exited the room. Spirit gave a little wave. The rest of the killers streamed out the door, discussing things quietly with each other. The Executioner trailed after them slowly, dragging his blade down the hallway. Soon, the only person remaining in the room with Wraith was the Shape. 

“Yes, Michael? Did you have something you wanted to discuss with me?” 

The Shape stood up and shuffled towards the other killer. He reached a hand out, gesturing for Wraith to hand him his clipboard and pen. 

“Oh? Do you need to write something?” 

He nodded and took them from Wraith’s hands, writing a message in careful, small handwriting. It read: Thank you for doing this. I have a serious habit. 

Wraith smiled reassuringly and gave the Shape’s shoulder a soft pat. “Always my pleasure, Michael. You’re welcome to share at our next meeting. I promise nobody is going to think any less of you.”

The masked man looked at Wraith for a good long moment, then nodded slowly and left the room. The gentle killer made a few last notes on his clipboard and began stacking the chairs back up with a content sigh. Things were beginning to look up for his camping compatriots. 

Check out this story and the rest of its chapters on AO3! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011980/chapters/65940853

[gravitygrenade]

Word Count: 979

Story Contains: Murder, Dumb Teens, Timid Female Reader

Requested By: ledkitty on Wattpad

~

How had you ended up here? You knew you should've never allowed your friends to talk you into this. Pretty much to slim everything down, your friends really wanted to go to rosswood park to prove a point, but oh how wrong they were. You got a bad gut feeling about going there especially at dark but due to your father being an abusive little shit you agreed to tag along.

~Flashback~

"Oh, c'mon N/N! Don't be such a wuss." Your friend Jacob stated with a roll of his eyes.

Here you were in the middle of rosswood wearing a black shirt, some fishnet leggings, black doc martins, and a red oversized sweater. Even though you had the sweater on you couldn't help but feel cold. You wouldn't have come dressed like this to rosswood but you left in a hurry as you didn't want to leave the house with a bruise on your face.

"W-Why are we even here anyway?" You asked shyly as you brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

"Don't tell me you weren't listening during lunch."Alyssa said with a "seriously" look plastered all over her face. You shot her a timid smile and brought your fully covered hand to your mouth.

"Dude even if you weren't listening you should be able to figure it out by all the urban legends there are surrounding this place," Max said looking at you. "don't tell me you don't know the little spooky tales everyone tells."

"I just kind of ignore them, I never saw much of a reason to pay much attention to them." You mumbled tiredly.

"Ooh, so you've never heard the tales of slenderman or that the woods are home to killers who'll rip you apart." Jacob turned to you, obviously trying to scare you. Normally you weren't much of a scaredy-cat but something was putting you on edge, plus you paid enough attention to know that people went missing in rosswood and that these tales of murderers were tales spun off of actual people who had committed heinous crimes.

"C-Cut it out, Jacob." You said narrowing your eyes at the brown-haired boy.

"Aww N/N is scared off the tall faceless man and some fictional killers." Jacob scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Like seriously Y/N, grow the fuck up." You felt slightly ashamed that you were letting him scare you. "Anyways, let's continue." And with that, the group continued to track forward.

You continued to wonder why you were even still friends with these people when you heard a twig snap.

"G-Guys..." You stated quietly.

"Yes Y/N?" Jacob asked with a roll of his eyes.

"Did you hear that?" You asked quietly causing the group to stop. The two boys turned back to look at you.

"Seriously Y/N? Grow the fuck up! Like seriously!" Jacob said causing you to flinch slightly. "Oh I'm Y/N, I'm scared of some fake serial killers and a fake monster with no face." He mocked you causing Max to laugh.

"H-Hey cut it out that's not funny." You stated as you tried to keep in your tears.

"Aww is little Y/N gonna cry?" He laughed causing your lip to quiver.

"Hey, the lady said-" The voice was cut off by a chain saw ripping its way through Jacob's body. "to knock it off." A woman with bright red hair, black and red eyes, pale skin, who wielded a chainsaw could be seen behind Jacob. She wore a black and red nurse's uniform. Alyssa screamed but you stood there frozen in place as tears escaped your eyes. Jacob hit the ground as Max and Alyssa started to run leaving you there to stare at the dead body of your friend.

You didn't turn around to look at your other friends but you knew something bad had to have happened since you heard their screams of agony. That was the last thing you remember before everything went black.

~Back to that Night~

You opened your eyes and groaned as you felt a pain coming from your head. You brought your hand and gently touched the area only for you to bring your hand down with blood on your fingers. You gave off a small squeak out of surprise but quickly looked around before your eyes landed on the lady from earlier.

"Don't touch it, it'll get infected." She stated before coming towards you. She bent down cleaned the wound before wrapping your head. "What's your name sweetheart?" She asked as she bandaged your head. You blushed slightly at the nickname, you were always a sucker for sweet little nicknames like that.

"Y-Y/N" You stated quietly. "How about you?" She smiled underneath her mask.

"My name is Ann." She hummed as she finished up. She went and put the supplies away before making her way back to you. You had been chained to the wall by your ankle. She leaned down and uncuffed you, seeing that your leg was bruised from the cuff she went to her supplies and grabbed a jell cream to help with the bruising.

~A Year Later~

You looked outside as your hand clasped onto the warm mug. It was snowing outside and you were worried about Ann since that night she decided to keep you. She liked taking care of people and you were just so cute. Little did she know keeping you would be the best decision she would have ever made.

You always made sure she was well-fed, she may take care of you but you take care of her too in your own way. The door opened causing you to smile.

"Welcome home Ann!" You said cheerfully as you handed her the mug once she took off her coat.

"Hello love." Those nicknames always made your heart flutter. She came over and kissed your forehead causing you to giggle.

You wouldn't mind spending eternity like this.

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Chapter One: Moving In

This whole series contains trigger warnings such as: gun violence, blood, gore, some angst. (Probably a lot of angst it’s me😂)

She was Clay’s daughter, looking for a place to rent out in Tacoma, Washington near the Tacoma Community College where she was going for an Accounting degree. Her mother lives near Spokane, which was too far to commute and there was no on-campus housing. So she was stuck finding somewhere to rent in Tacoma.

She spent all day looking for anything to rent but she couldn’t find a single room. Her mother, in the passenger seat of her little 2002 Nissan, jabs her finger towards a sign stabbed into a tall patch of grass. At first she curls her nose, looking at the less-than-adequate housing when her eye spots the twinkling black Dyna in the driveway.

“Honey, looks can be deceiving.” She nudges your shoulder with hers and gives you a little wave towards the driveway. With a sigh, she pulls into the driveway and gives her mom one last look of concern. “Baby, if you don’t like the person you don’t have to do it, but it is for rent.” She raises her brows at her daughter and the young woman huff, giving a nod. She was right. But she was sure whoever was the Percy old man behind that door, you were gonna find any reason to—. A lawn mower motor whirs to life and she jumps, hitting her head on the ceiling.

“Great, and he’s a chainsaw murderer, I’m gonna die mom. I hope you’re happy.” She barks, getting out and promptly shutting the door. Walking towards the lawnmower running, and what she finds attached to the lawnmower makes her jaw drop. A tall blonde man, build strong and wide in the shoulder. His stance was a little intimidating, but she found a little confidence to approach him.

“I’m here for the room for rent sign?” She stammers, wringing her fingers together.

“Your name?” He asks, shutting off the mower and drawing a towel from his pocket and wiping his hands off.

“I’m Vanessa Halen Morrow.” She sticks a hand at him, her fingers quaking. His ringed hand grips hers in a firm, yet gentle shake.

“How old are you?” He asks, looking out to her car and giving her mom a wave. She glances just in time to see her mother give him a knowing smile and a nod.

“I’m twenty-two. I just got enough saved up for my first semester so I want to get an accounting degree and find a better job.” She stammers, glancing up at him once more to find captivating, smiling blue eyes looking down at her.

“Alright, that your mom?” He asks, pointing to the car. She nods, heading that way. “She saw my Dyna when you two pulled in.” He steps in front of her and gets to the car first, popping open her driver’s door and crouching down to see her mother.

“Nice bike, kid. You a Son?” She asks, nodding to him.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods. “You okay with her renting here?”

“You gonna protect her?” He glances over his shoulder at the young woman. “Sure.” He nods.

“Her father is SAMCRO president. Don’t fuck this up.” She raises an eyebrow at him. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“She’s a roommate.” He rolls his eyes and stands, swiping his hands on his pants to tower over her small frame. “If you need help moving stuff in, cool. You can have the room.” He nods, watching her grin with excitement.

“Thank you! You’re amazing!” She squeals, gripping him in a tight hug. When she lets go, she finds him looking at her with a half-concerned expression. “What is your name?” She asks. A tiny smirk curves the corner of his lips.

“Kozik.”

It’s move in day, and she’s more excited than anything. As she heads to Kozik’s, she grabs two monsters and a granola bar before making the four hours drive to Tacoma. Just as she pulls in, she finds the Tacoma man standing on the porch on the phone. His leather kutte hugged to his shoulders, her heart pounding as she makes her way up the steps with her bag.

“Yeah, I know. Yeah. Hey. I got a roommate moving in right now. I’ll call you back.” He claps the phone shut and drops it into his pocket before facing her with a smile. Grabbing the couple of bags from her arms and hauling them inside, he waves the cute girl into the kitchen. “Hey, I gotta head out, but uh. Here’s your key. I need you to sign this lease. And if you don’t mind, I already paid rent this month, so don’t worry, but next month its two-hundred for the room and we split the bills. I’ll go over the rest when I get back. Uh, so.. I guess get comfy, don’t worry about that big stuff outside I’ll have a few guys come over and move it in for ya. There’s a couple pocket knives in this drawer, and a pistol.” He pulls open a drawer to expose his little arsenal. “Where do you work at?” He asks, shutting the drawer.

“I’m still finding a job in Tacoma. I had one lined up but they gave the position to someone else.” She finds concern in his eyes, but he quickly hides it with a smile.

“Alrighty then. Just make sure you got the two hundred, okay? And get comfy. Like I said, I’ll have a couple prospects come over and move your stuff in.” He smiles, giving her a wave before he disappears out the door, leaving her there alone. She wasn’t one to be scared, but she found it uncomfortable in a new place that she didn’t know, to be left alone without the brute of a roommate she’d acquired. Though, if she were being honest, she had a feeling being alone here would be pretty normal for her.

While stuffing her clothes into her dresser that Kozik had moved in for her, she hears a ding at door and head for the sound. When she pulls open the door she finds two thin, gangly looking bikers standing before her with awkward smiles on their similarly long faces.

“Kozik sent us, to move furniture?” One finally speaks, sticking out a hand to her in peace.

“Yeah! Uh, everything is in that trailer. It just needs to be moved into the bedroom on the left. Do you want help?” She asks, pulling on a ball cap to shade her eyes from the burning sun and going for her shoes.

“Nah, Kozik said you should stay in the house and be comfy. I’m Lugnut, by the way. That’s what they call me. This is Chip, he’s pretty quiet. And don’t yell real loud, he jumps when women yell.” She looks up to the tall bigger man with black shoulder length hair and a crooked nose to find his cheeks tinted a light dusty pink, and he scowled at his friend before looking to the ground embarrassed.

“Don’t you worry, Chip, I won’t yell and yet ya.” She grins, patting his shoulder and a bright grin fills his face with glee and he gives a soft huff in content.

“Well, alrighty then. Chip let’s get this shit unloaded.” The shorter of the two heads out towards the trailer, Chip following closely behind.

She’s in the kitchen finding them something to eat when she hears Lugnut heave a sigh and she looks over her shoulder at the two. They looked pretty tired. She fixed them each a cold ham sandwich and a glass of iced tea, all things she’d found.

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose—“

“Impose? You two carried in all my things I can at least thank you. Sit down.” She smiles, patting the bar stools against the bar before scampering off to the kitchen to make herself something.

“Why do they call you Chip anyway?” She asks, munching on a dorito.

“Cause of this b-big scar.” He lowers his head, pushing back his black curly hair to expose a huge darker red mark on his forehead. “And cause when I get a bout of Tourette’s I say ‘Chip chip’.” He shyly goes back to his sandwich.

“You have Tourette’s huh?” She asks, smiling at him. He just nods, the embarrassment filling his cheeks. “What’s the matter?” She coos, reaching and grasping his shoulder.

“You prolly wanna laugh, huh? chip chip.” He mutters, his shoulders raising with each ‘chip’.

“No, hunny. Of course not!” She gently squeezes his shoulder. “You’re a great guy, Chip. I don’t see why you’d think I’d laugh at you, you’re too adorable.” She giggles, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Shoot. A pretty lady like you, you ought to not flatter a big dummy like me. Chip chip.” He shakes his head as Lugnut claps his shoulder. She takes a chance, pulling Chip into a big hug, which he gladly returns, with big warm arms.

“See you two later, yeah?” She calls as they make it out the door.

“Bye!” Chip calls, giving her a big grin and a sweet wave.

“Hey!” Kozik calls, hearing nothing in return. Weird. He peeks around the corner to find her standing in the kitchen in shorts and a tee shirt, scrubbing the dishes in the sink while her hips bop to the music she’s playing on her phone. “You sure like Chip, huh?” He chuckles, catching her attention.

“I do, he’s a real sweetheart.” She chuckles, fondly recalling the earlier events. His big happy grin.

“Well, I’m gonna find something to eat. You’re more than welcome to hang out in the living room. I’m gonna watch Ace Ventura or something.” He chuckles, disappearing to the living room.

[pictureswithboxes]

Chapter 6 of Understanding The Heathers is up.

AO3 Link [x]

There was a phenomenon where if a domestic cat was left on its own long enough, it would revert back to its feral state. Her father had told her that this was referred to as going ‘house feral.’ After seeing and hearing about how often The Heathers’ parents were out of the house, Veronica was sure that The Heathers had gone house feral. That was the only way to explain the horror show that was the game of Monopoly Veronica found herself part of. 

Though, she was less of a player and more like a referee. 

“Heather, get off of Heather!” Veronica exclaimed when Chandler had tackled Mac onto the floor after she had bought ‘Pennsylvania Railroad.’ 

“You know that it’s my strategy to buy all the Railroads!” Chandler growled. 

They paid her no mind as Mac wrapped her legs around Chandler’s waist and reversed their positions handily. “It’s everyone’s strategy to buy the Railroads! You’ve already got two, I couldn’t let you get them all! It’s just good sense!” She pinned Chandler’s hands above her head with one swift motion.

 Veronica averted her eyes, feeling rise to her cheeks. Her mouth went a little dry, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding on a private moment. Especially with how close Mac and Chandler’s faces were, their noses were practically touching and their lips were mere inches apart. 

“She’s right, Heather and you know it. We’re all in it to win.” Duke said, she looked more interested in reorganizing her money than with whatever the hell was going on right next to her. “If you guys fuck up the board, you’re going to have to fix it.”

“Oh my god, fine, Heather!” Chandler rolled her eyes. “Just let me up!”

Mac sat up, not taking her eyes off Chandler. “Just remember, I can do this any time I want.” 

Veronica cleared her throat. “Heather, it’s your turn.” She said, nodding her head toward Duke. 

If Veronica had known that playing a game with The Heathers meant that there would be acts of violence, she would have thought twice about betting against them. So far Chandler had already torn the three property cards in half, Mac was balling up her bills and throwing them at the people she owed money to, and Veronica already had to wrestle a hammer from Duke. She didn’t even want to know what Duke was going to do with the hammer. 

Duke rolled the dice and let out a loud cheer when she saw the result. She’d landed on the Free Parking space. 

“Fuck you entirely!” Chandler shouted, slamming her hands against the coffee table. 

Duke laughed as she collected the bills from the center of the board. “You’re just mad because half of this came from you.”

“That’s exactly why I’m mad!” Chandler snapped. “Just you wait, you’ll land on my hotels and I’ll get all your fucking cash.” 

Veronica looked at the board and had to admit, Chandler was right. Each Heather had their own different strategies, Chandler had elected to buy and develop around one of the corners of the board so it was almost impossible to avoid landing on a property owned by her. Duke aggressively bought up properties as quickly as she could, she didn’t even bother with the Utilities. Mac’s strategy looked like she only wanted to sabotage the other two more than she wanted to win. 

Meanwhile, Veronica was simply trying to survive.

“I’m so scared.” Duke rolled her eyes. 

“It’s my turn.” Veronica announced, rolling the dice. She was at the point where she almost wanted to go bankrupt. It was exhausting to be the banker, babysitter, and to actually play the game. 

She rolled a five and landed on ‘Luxury Tax.’ 

“Tough break.” Mac said as Veronica doled out seventy-five dollars. 

Veronica shrugged and passed the dice to Chandler. “Your turn.”

Chandler didn’t roll immediately, instead choosing to take a few moments to assess her properties.”I want to put a house on Kentucky Avenue.” She said, passing Veronica the appropriate amount of money. 

“Sure thing.” Veronica took the money and handed Chandler one of the tiny, plastic houses that came with the game. 

Chandler rolled a seven and landed on a Chance square. “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” She muttered under her breath after reading her card. 

Veronica was about to ask what the hell that meant when Chandler cut her off. 

“Enjoy the charity.” She rolled her eyes and tossed a fifty dollar bill at Veronica, Mac, and Duke. 

“Gee wiz,” Duke rolled her eyes. “This is life changing.” 

“Shut up, Heather.” Chandler snapped, handing the dice over to Mac. “It’s your turn, Heather.” 

The game continued and this level of hostility never wavered as time wore on. The closest thing to a fight that happened was when Mac took Duke’s plate of pizza and frisbee tossed it across the room when Duke started a housing crisis. Veronica was less horrified by the sound of the plate shattering, and more so by the way The Heathers had disregarded the sound. Going bankrupt was a blessing, if Veronica was being honest. 

Two hours in and they were still going strong. This had to be a world record. 

“Please.” Veronica groaned, she was now laying on the floor and blindly doling out the cash as requested. “Please tell me it’s almost over. I’m so tired, you guys.”

“Fuck off, Veronica.” Duke snapped. There wasn’t a trace of exhaustion in her tone. “I’ve got Heather on the ropes.”

“No you don’t!” Chandler growled back. 

“Please, Heather.” Mac scoffed. “The only reason you made it to this round was because you were in jail for so long. “If you roll a one through five, you’re paying me. And you barely have any liquid assets left as it stands. You’re going to have to start auctioning off your properties.” She let out a little laugh. “Well, more of your properties.”

Veronica didn’t bother to look at the board to see what Mac meant. 

Chandler eventually went bankrupt and the other three had to physically stop her from flipping the board. It was another half hour after that before Duke ran out of money and Mac took home the victory. Veronica wasn’t sure how the hell that had happened, seeing as Mac’s main goal from the beginning was to simply hinder the others’ progress. 

“I can’t believe it’s over.” Veronica murmured as she, Duke, and Chandler cleaned up the game board. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.” She turned to the two of them. “You’ve scarred me for life, I never want to play Monopoly again!”

Mac yawned from her spot on the sofa. The winner never had to clean up the mess, apparently. “Now that I think of it, Monopoly is kind of a trash game.”

“We should play Ticket to Ride, next.” Chandler said as she carefully counted the houses to make sure there weren’t any missing. 

“No way, we should play The Game of Life.” Duke argued. 

Chandler scoffed. “Please, Heather, you always try to sell your kids when you get in a pinch.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Veronica found herself saying. She glanced at the clock and was horrified to see that it was nearing one in the morning. “How the hell did you three manage to stretch a monopoly game for almost four hours?”

“We all really wanted the bragging rights.” Mac replied easily. “Which reminds me, Heather, Heather, is there something you wanted to say to me?”

The other two sighed before chorusing “You are a titan of industry” to Mac in an annoyed tone. 

“Am I a pretty titan of industry?” Mac asked, batting her eyelashes. 

“You’re beautiful.” Duke and Chandler sighed together.

. .

Veronica sat at the lunch table, looking over her study guide for her AP Lit class. She wasn’t worried about the test that day, but it was still important to have a bit of a refresher. The Heathers, who had that class during second period, assured her that it would be a piece of cake, but Veronica would rather be safe than sorry. 

“Honestly, if you even read the back of the book you should be fine.” Chandler said, looking bored out of her mind. “All you have to know is that Edna is trapped in her little gilded cage and wants to bone Robert.”

“The hardest part is trying to spell the names right.” Mac added offhandedly, she was working on her math homework and therefore not paying much attention. “Ms. Fleming said she’d mark us down if we spelled the names wrong.”

“I think that was directed at us, specifically.” Duke said. “She was still a little miffed that Heather called Mademoiselle Reisz an old crone.”

Chandler laughed a little. “In my defense, I thought it was funny at the time. How was I supposed to know that the sewer witch that is Ms. Fleming would go off the handle?”

“She’s more of a gutter hag.” Duke said after a moment of thought. “Her being a witch implies that she has powers.”

“But I’d rather be in a gutter than in a sewer.” Chandler frowned before taking a sip of her Diet Coke. “Let’s go with sewer hag. That way she’s in a sewer with all the rats and shit and piss, but also she can’t cast spells.”

“It’s decided, Ms. Fleming is a sewer hag.” Duke said as she and Chandler high-fived with a smile.

“Of course you guys would have a committee to create insults.” Veronica found herself laughing. 

Chandler and Duke grinned at each other. 

“So, Veronica,” Chandler said, leaning forward and resting her weight on her elbows. “As much as I hate to change the subject, Halloween is fast approaching...”

“And?” Veronica furrowed her brow.

“And,” Duke rolled her eyes.  “We, as in Heather, Heather, and myself,  always do a group costume. Now that you’re part of the group, we figured we’d see if you wanted to... you know, be part of the group.”

Veronica thought for a moment, usually she and Martha gathered up the worst, most D list, scary movies they could find and make a night of it. This year, however, Martha’s grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary was on the second of November and she was to go out of town with her whole family for the long weekend, starting right after school on Halloween. Veronica was planning to just stay home and pass out candy with her parents. 

“Sure thing.” Veronica shrugged. 

“Cool.” Chandler looked at Mac. “It’s Heather’s turn to pick a group costume, by the way.”

“You guys don’t go trick or treating, do you?” Veronica asked. She couldn’t picture the three of them going door to door begging for candy. 

The Heathers looked at each other. 

“Not quite.” Mac replied. “We’re doing that volunteer thing through the school where you take a few kids trick or treating around the neighborhood and then their parents come get them.”

“You should sign up if you want.” Chandler added. “We always need more people and it’s an easy way to get volunteer hours. The kids do whatever you say, it’s basically just going for a walk around the neighborhood. You don’t even really have to look at them.”

“We’re gonna watch our favorite scary movies after, you should come.” Duke said, looking over to Mac. “Do you know what we want to be, Heather?”

“I’m gonna need some time to ponder.” Mac said, closing her math book. “I don’t know any iconic groups of four off the top of my head.”

The first group that came to Veronica’s mind was The Teletubbies. There was no way in hell that she was going to tell The Heathers that, she didn’t want to risk it. 

“We need an answer by Wednesday.” Chandler said, pointing at Mac sternly. “Halloween is fast approaching and we need to look good.”

Mac mock saluted Chandler. “I’ll start brainstorming tonight.” 

“Speaking of making plans.” Veronica figured this would be the best time for a subject change. “My parents want me to have you guys over for dinner.”

The Heathers looked at Veronica like she’d grown a second head. 

“Why?” Mac asked. 

Veronica’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with you guys, is it so weird that my parents would want to get to know the people who are taking up some real estate in my life?”

“I guess not.” Chandler frowned. “Do they think you’ve... you know... gotten in with a bad crowd? Or something?”

“No.” Veronica shook her head. “Well, my mom thinks you’re all weird as hell, but they don’t think you guys are bad seeds.”

“So... They just want to meet us?” Duke asked. 

“Is it seriously so weird that my parents are taking an interest in my life?” Veronica exclaimed. 

“... Yeah, kinda.”

. . 

Veronica was nervous as she helped her mother set the table. The Heathers would be over any minute and while Veronica was sure that her friends knew better than to be inappropriate or rude to her parents, she was terrified that they might start bickering at the dining table. Her parents already thought that The Heathers were weird as hell and they had barely interacted, Veronica was sure that if The Heathers were themselves in front of her parents, she would be banned from seeing those girls ever again. 

“I’m so excited to get to know your friends a little better.” Veronica’s mother said as she put out the napkins. “I already know Martha so well, I feel like getting to know them will help us get to know you more.”

Veronica laughed. “You might want to run and hide if you get to know me too much.” 

Her mother sent her a fond smile. “I certainly hope you’re joking.” 

Just as Veronica was about to speak, there were three sharp knocks on the door. Veronica froze, half expecting to hear her name being screamed from outside. It was jarring to say the least. 

“I’ll get it.” Veronica’s father said as he walked to the door. 

“Is that them?” Veronica’s mother asked. “No one’s screaming.”

“Yeah,” Veronica nodded. “It’s kind of an inside joke between us.” She shrugged. “Heather Chandler does that to all of us.”

“What a card.” Her mother said with a confused look on her face. 

“To say the least.” Veronica nodded, turning toward the door as her father led The Heathers into the dining room. “Hi guys.” 

The Heathers had all elected to wear something more conservative than their usual outfits. It was like they were trying to look business casual. 

“Hi Veronica.” They chorused together. 

“Thank you so much for having us over, Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer.” Chandler said as they entered the room fully. “Is there anything we can do to help out before dinner?”

Mac and Duke both smiled and nodded, looking at Veronica’s mother expectantly. 

“You’re just in time, actually.” Veronica’s mother smiled. “Dinner is ready and Veronica and I have got the table all set. Why doesn’t everyone sit down and Mr. Sawyer and I will bring dinner out.”

Veronica moved to the dining room table while her parents entered the kitchen. “Take a seat guys.” Veronica said, gesturing to the table. 

Mac and Chandler sat on one side of the table while Duke sat beside Veronica on the other side. They sat ramrod straight, like they were awaiting a job interview or something. Veronica had to admit that it kind of felt good to know that they were taking this as seriously as she was. 

“I know we just told you to tell your mom to make your favorite,” Mac whispered, she looked a little concerned. “But what did she make?”

“Spaghetti with extra oregano.” Veronica replied. 

Mac let out a sigh of relief. “Okay cool.”

Her parents returned and they began to break bread and eat. They made some small talk for a little while, Chandler and Duke led the conversation a little more than Mac did. Veronica was surprised that Chandler hadn’t ordered Duke to shut up at least once since dinner had started. She was expecting it. 

“So, Heather.” Veronica’s father paused. “Uh... Heathers. What do you do outside of school? Are you part of any groups? Any hobbies?”

“Well, I’m the senior class representative to the PTA.” Chandler said, sitting up straighter. “I'm also a member of the NHS. I used to be on the debate team, but it conflicted with student leadership. So I had to drop it in my sophomore year.”

“We’ll it sounds like you keep busy.” Veronica’s mother said with a smile. “And what do the rest of you do?”

“I’m head of the yearbook committee.” Duke said. “It’s a lot of work, I assign most of the stories and me and the advisor are going to edit and put the yearbook together. I’m also in the NHS with Heather. And I do a lot of reading.”

“What kind of books do you like?” Veronica’s father perked up. “I, myself, like spy novels.”

Duke smiled and nodded. “I’m more of a fan of the classics, myself. Moby Dick is an old favorite, but right now I’m reading Of Human Bondage.”

Veronica frowned at that. “I’m sorry, what are you reading?” 

“Of Human Bondage, by W. Somerset Maugham.” Duke said, turning to Veronica. “It was written in like nineteen-ten or something, and it’s all about this orphan with a clubfoot living in London.” 

“Oh, I think I’ve read that with my bookclub.” Veronica’s mother smiled. “It’s a little wordy, don’t you think?”

“So far, it’s pretty good.” Duke shrugged. “It’s no Moby Dick, though.” She turned to Chandler. “Heather has some opinions about Herman Melville.” 

Veronica watched Chandler fight an eyeroll. 

“And Heather, what about you?” Veronica’s father prompted.

Veronica fought the urge to laugh at her father’s poor attempt at a subject change. He only ever read trash books and beach reads, the classics didn’t hold his interest in the least. 

“Oh,” Mac looked a little like she had been taken by surprise. “I’m head of the cheer team. It’s my job to help the coach put together stunt formations and choreograph routines, I also run the pre-practice drills. I’m also part of NHS.” 

Veronica had almost forgotten just how perfect these girls were on paper. They were every parents’ wet dream, people sent their children to school in the hopes that they would fall into The Heathers’ crowd. And here Veronica was, in their crowd, completely on accident. 

“Wow, you girls certainly keep very busy, don’t you?” Veronica’s mother sounded very impressed, and also a little concerned. “You are making sure to take time for yourselves, right?”

The Heathers looked at Veronica’s mother with confused faces. 

Chandler recovered first. “Of course we do.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s just important to be well rounded, you know?”

“It looks good on a college app.” Duke added. 

“I’m just full of school spirit.” Mac grinned. 

Veronica laughed at that. 

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch. The Heathers were perfectly perfect in every single way. Veronica wasn’t sure what had her so anxious in the first place, if The Heathers knew anything, it was how to put on a show. They’d even offered to clean up after dinner. By the time they’d left, Veronica was sure her parents would be under the same spell as the students of Westerburg High. 

“You liked them, right?” Veronica asked after she’d watched them leave in Duke’s Jeep. 

“Oh, they’re lovely girls.” Veronica’s mother said. “A little stiff, though. Were they nervous?”

“I don’t think they are physically capable of feeling nervous, Mom.”

. .

“I’ve decided what we’re going to be.” Mac said, sitting down on Veronica’s desk once their Econ teacher gave them independent work time. 

“Oh really?” Veronica asked as Duke sat beside her and Chandler perched herself on Duke’s desk. “Was today’s lesson about resources and scarcity inspiring?”

Mac laughed at that. “No, I wasn’t listening to that at all.” She set her text book on her lap and began to fill out her worksheet. “I was too busy thinking about Rose McGowan in Jawbreaker.”

“I don’t understand the logic.” Veronica said. 

“She watched Jawbreaker last night and loves Rose McGowan.” Duke said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“We had a whole conversation about it last night.” Chandler added. “I swear, Heather went on for hours about how she’s in love with Rose McGowan. I was getting kind of jealous, if I’m being honest.”

“Why would you be jealous?” Veronica asked, earning an annoyed glare from Chandler. 

“As I was saying,” Mac cut in. “I’ve decided that we’re going to be the Flawless Four from Jawbreaker.” 

“The original Flawless Four or the one with Fern?” Duke asked. 

“The original, duh.” Mac replied with a grin. 

Veronica frowned and tried to remember the last time she’d watched the movie, Jawbreaker. She’d watched it with Martha, who had a habit of talking through movies, and was never really able to get into it. She remembered being entertained, nonetheless. 

“And who’s gonna be who?” Chandler asked. 

“Well, I want to be Rose McGowan, obviously.” Mac said. 

“Heather, you don’t have brown hair.” Duke pointed out. 

“Wig technology exists.” Mac turned to Chandler with a pout. “Please let me be Rose McGowan. I never get to be the mean one.”

“They’re all mean, Heather.” Chandler was averting her eyes from Mac’s. She was desperately trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Come on, Heather.” Mac leaned into Chandler. “Please!” 

“Just let her be the bitch.” Veronica sighed. 

“Veronica is right, Heather.” Duke said, earning a glare from Chandler. She met the glare, not backing down. “Please.” She scoffed, smirking a little. “Heather already had you in her back pocket, it was just a matter of time.”

“It’s true.” Mac nodded. She whispered something into Chandler’s ear that made Chandler’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “I had you on the ropes.” She said at full volume. 

“So who are the rest of us gonna be?” Duke asked. “I don’t want to be the dead one.” 

“No one wants to be the dead one!” Veronica had to struggle to keep her voice down. 

“Veronica has to be Rebecca Gayheart.” Mac said quickly. “She’s the tallest, and so is Julie.” She looked between Duke and Chandler. “One of you has to be the dead one.”

Chandler and Duke stared each other down for what felt like almost a full minute before Chandler spoke. 

“I sure as hell am not going to be Foxy.” She said confidently. “So I guess I’ll be the murder victim.”

“You’d rather be dead than Foxy?” Veronica asked, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. 

“I just figure that at some point during the night, you guys are going to have to carry my limp body around during the party.” Chandler shrugged. “And I, for one, think that sounds very fun.” 

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely gonna haul you around!” Mac nodded excitedly. “We have to make you a jawbreaker lump and everything!”

“Well, now that we have that settled,” Chandler snatched Duke’s worksheet from her and began to look it over. “Let’s get this assignment done.”

“How many times have you guys even watched Jawbreaker?”

. .

Signing up to chaperone kids while they go trick or treating turned out to be a better idea than Veronica had originally thought. The rules were simple, each chaperone was to be assigned four kids, sent out with their group for two hours, then had to return their four kids to the adult in charge. She didn’t even have to deal with parents, and it was even encouraged for groups to go together. 

“I can’t believe that this was basically a two hour walk through the neighborhood with my friends.” Veronica asked Chandler for clarification as she and her group joined The Heathers’. “It can’t possibly be this easy.”

“It is.” Chandler nodded, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “All we have to do is not die of frostbite.”

“I told you to bring mittens.” Mac said, turning around. She had been walking a little ways in front of the group and had to walk backward to show off the thick, yellow mittens she was wearing. They each had a little, red triceratops on them. 

“Yes, I know, but I didn’t listen, so here we are.” Chandler rolled her eyes. 

“I wore mine.” Duke said from Chandler’s other side. She showed off her own pair of mittens, they were green with bears on them. “You should have worn yours.” She looked at Chandler with a smirk. “Your Nana worked so hard on them.”

“Your Nana made you all mittens?” Veronica couldn’t help but laugh a little at the thought. She couldn’t picture what Heather Chandler’s grandmother was like. “That’s adorable.”

“Yeah, her Nana’s pretty cool.” Duke shrugged. “She’s way better than my grandma.”

“What’s wrong with your grandma?” Veronica asked. If Duke’s grandmother was anything like her mother, she could understand why Duke didn’t care for her.

“She’s really sweet, but also really religious.” Duke replied as they stopped outside of a group of houses. “When she came to America, she got really into Jesus. And she’s really hateful about the weirdest stuff. Like she’ll go off about women with short hair and we always have to be like ‘What would Jesus say about you having so much hate in your heart?’ And then she gets all teary eyed.”

Veronica frowned. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.” 

“Her grandma doesn’t even look at me whenever I’m around her.” Mac added. 

“That’s because she hates the Irish.” Duke shrugged. “I told you not to use your last name when you first met her.”

“I was nine. She threw a potato at me before asking me if I liked being a part of the IRA.” Mac grimaced. 

“This is really putting a lot of pieces of the puzzle together.” Veronica laughed. “It just explains so much.” She turned to Chandler. “Please tell us more about your Nana that knits you and your friends adorable mittens.”

“Hers have stars on them.” Duke smiled. 

Chandler sighed. “She’s a ridiculously old and rickety lady who’s horrible to everyone except for me because I’m the baby of the family and I have the most pinchable cheeks of all her grandchildren. And my complexion is perfectly peaches and cream that she could just eat up.” She smiled a little. “I’m her favorite.” 

“Every answer brings more questions.” Veronica couldn’t help but laugh. 

Veronica watched as their groups of kids returned to the four of them with grins on their painted up faces. The smallest one, a girl who was dressed as a witch, ran up to Veronica. 

“They gave me two pieces!” She said with a smile that showed off her lost tooth. “Do you want the other one?”

Veronica felt her heart break a little at how cute this kid was. “That’s so sweet of you!” She took a fun sized candy bar from the little girl’s hand and gestured to another group of houses. “We should try and hit as many houses as possible before we have to get you to your parents. Don’t you want a huge haul?”

The little girl and the rest of the group all nodded. 

“Then we’d better motor!” Mac announced, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. 

The kids cheered as Veronica and The Heathers led them toward the next group of houses. 

“We need to think about heading back soon. We don’t want the kids to be late.” Chandler said. 

“Good, every minute I spend not watching the first or second Scream is a minute wasted.” Mac said, earning a nod from Duke. 

“And I Know What You Did Last Summer.” Duke added. 

“Do you guys just really like movies that have Sarah Michelle Gellar in them?” Veronica asked. 

“We love SMG.” Chandler said. “Heather changed her house’s voicemail to ‘Omega Beta Zeta, you’ve reached The McNamaras.’”

“My dad still hasn’t noticed.” Mac grinned, turning around as their groups ran up to them. “Whatcha guys get? Anything good?” 

Veronica watched in horror as the children slowly pulled toothbrushes out of their candy sacks. “Now that’s just awful.” She said. 

“People like that need to be stopped.” Chandler said, crossing her arms. “What do you guys say we head back to the school? Maybe hit some houses we might have missed on the way back?”

The kids let out a little cheer before heading off in the school’s direction. Veronica and The Heathers trailed behind them, they were chattering about how excited to get back to Mac’s place. Veronica listened as they walked, she’d normally love to join them, but when she’d asked her parents if she could go over, they’d told her that just because it was a holiday didn’t mean it wasn’t a school night. Her curfew was still in effect unfortunately. 

They made it back to the school a few minutes before eight and filled out their child return paperwork. It almost felt like they were returning books at the library. Except instead of a fine for a late return, she would be suspended and probably charged with child endangerment. 

“Your parents said it was okay for you to come to Kurt’s party, right?” Chandler asked while Duke and Mac turned their children in. “Because we’ll look really fucking stupid without you.”

“Don’t worry.” Veronica said, leaning against the lockers. “My mom was actually kind of worried that I’d be depressed and lonely because Martha’s gonna be out of town this weekend. And my dad just kept reminding me to call him if anything happens and that I wouldn’t get in trouble if I did.”

“You know that’s a lie, right?” Chandler crossed her arms. “That’s what they always say, then you call them and next thing you know, you’re grounded into next month after being screamed at for an hour straight.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Not the kind of family bonding I was hoping for.”

Veronica almost told Chandler that her parents, unlike Chandler’s, were good and normal parents. Almost. Instead she just hummed an acknowledgement. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Chandler nodded. “I look ridiculous in my costume, by the way.” She said after glancing toward Mac and Duke. “Heather’s lucky she’s cute, otherwise I would not have agreed to be a murder victim wearing skimpy pajamas for Halloween.” 

Veronica smiled a little at that. “What did you want to be?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chandler shrugged. “It was Heather’s turn to pick.”

“You guys are kinda cute, you know.” Veronica gently shoved Chandler’s shoulder.

“Of course we are.” Chandler scoffed. “Don’t let it get around though, we’ve got a reputation.”

“Cross my heart.”

. .

Stepping into Kurt Kelly’s Halloween party was awkward to say the least, and not just because their terrible date was still in the back of Veronica’s mind. It was mostly due to Heather Chandler’s insistence that she, the dead body of the group, should be carried into the house like it happened in the movie. So there Veronica was holding Chandler’s legs, while Mac supported her middle and Duke had her under the arms, hobbling up to Kurt Kelly’s front door just so Chandler could get the entrance she wanted. 

It was so dramatic and stupid that Veronica didn’t even really mind it. 

People turned to watch them as they carried Chandler over the threshold and into the house. A few guys wolf whistled at them as they hobbled by, Veronica was sure it was more due to Chandler’s outfit, or lack thereof. The girl she was dressed as only wore a pair of panties and a tank top in the scene Veronica and The Heathers were recreating, and Chandler was definitely going for accuracy with her outfit. It had taken the combined efforts of Veronica and the other Heathers to convince Chandler to wear a pair of flesh colored tights,

“Aren’t you glad you wore those tights?” Duke grunted as she readjusted her gip. “It’s cold as fuck outside and you’re basically in a tanktop and panties.”

“Shut up, I’m supposed to be dead.” Chandler replied, not opening her eyes.

“Then stop wiggling.” Veronica demanded, trying to maintain her grip on Chandler’s legs. “When can we put you down? I swear, you are the worst murder victim ever.”

“I don’t mind carrying her.” Mac said, she was smirking a little. 

“That’s because your hand hasn’t left my ass since you guys picked me up.” Chandler snapped. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I swear to god I’m going to drop you if you don’t shut up.” Duke groaned. 

“So, uh, what’re you supposed to be?” Kurt asked, approaching with a tray of jello shots. Veronica had no idea what his costume was supposed to be, but it involved being shirtless. “No wait, let me guess... You’re...” He paused and took a closer look at Chandler’s neck. “What the fuck is on your neck?”

“It’s a jawbreaker.” Chandler replied, kicking her legs a little. “Veronica, put me down.” 

Veronica obliged and dropped Chandler’s legs so she could stand up fully. The giant lump on her throat was unsettling due to the amount of time Chandler had spent making it look as real as possible. She looked like a real choking victim. 

“Well, you ladies look great.” Kurt said, not taking his eyes off Chandler. “Maybe I’ll be able to unmask you later? See the woman beneath the costume...?”

It had to have taken all of Chandler’s self control not to vomit all over Kurt at that line. He must have been thinking of that since before the party. 

“Anyway,” Kurt continued, shoving the jello shots forward. “You all need a jello shot! I made them myself!”

Veronica almost scowled at the memory of her first jello shot, but took one anyway. Maybe this time she wouldn’t end up spilling half of it down her face. “Thanks, Kurt.” She said as he wandered away, offering his shots to anyone with an open hand. “How the hell do I eat this thing without spilling all over myself?”

Mac laughed and took Veronica’s shot out of her hand. “First you have to loosen the mold.” She said, squeezing the shot container before passing it back to Veronica. “Then you either use your finger or your tongue to guide it into your mouth and slurp it into your mouth.”

“You could use a spoon too, but then you’d have to make the walk of shame to the kitchen.” Chandler supplied before downing her shot. “I use my tongue because I don’t want to have to deal with having a mess on my hands.”

Duke followed suit. “Same here, but you might want to try using your finger for your first real try.” She looked like she was trying not to laugh. 

Mac rolled her eyes. “Just finger the shot a little, it’ll loosen it up.” She started poking at her own shot to demonstrate. “Once you have it nice and loose from the fingering, you tilt your head back and just let it slide down your throat.” She downed the shot quickly before smiling. “See? One day, you’ll be able to just do it with your tongue, but you need to get used to it.”

Veronica did as Mac instructed and poked her shot probably a little too roughly before tipping her head back and letting it slide into her mouth. It tasted a lot better than the first one she’d taken, that was for sure. And she didn’t lose half of the shot either. It still tasted like crap though.

“Kurt cannot make a jello shot to save his life.” Duke said with a shake of her head. 

“It’s because he doesn’t let them cool long enough.” Chandler said, linking arms with Veronica and pulling her toward the backyard while the others followed. “They don’t set properly and they start to separate.” 

“And it’s gross.” Duke scowled. 

“Where are we going?” Veronica asked. 

“We’re going to the keg!” Mac grinned, throwing an arm around Duke. “Gotta get this party started!”

Kurt’s Halloween party was very similar to the party at Ram’s house earlier in the year, except everyone was in some kind of costume. There had to be at least fourteen Batmans running around and twice as many girls dressed as cats, what surprised Veronica the most was how many bumble bees there were wandering around. She didn’t know that was a popular costume at all, and yet there they were. 

“There are a lot of bees.” Mac said, passing Veronica a red solo cup. 

“And Batmans.” Veronica nodded, taking a big swig of her beer and scowling. It was god awful. “Will beer ever taste better?”

“No.” Duke shook her head. “It’ll always taste like death. Sorry. Don’t worry, though, we’re not staying here all night.”

“What’re we doing after this?” Veronica asked. “A seance in a graveyard? Break into an abandoned house?”

“First off,” Chandler said with a scoff. “Did you learn all of your pastimes from teen movies?” Veronica’s cheeks heated up a little. “Second of all, it’s not even actually Halloween, so spooky shit isn’t even really on the table at this point. We’re going to take advantage of my parents being away and after-party at mine.” 

“Oh cool.” Veronica nodded. “How come we’re here then?”

“Because I look fucking good.” Chandler gestured to her outfit. “And it would be a waste not to show off a little.” She took a sip of her beer. 

“Why didn’t you throw a party then?” Veronica asked. “You’d be able to take advantage of your parents being out, and show off.”

“I don’t want all these people at my house.” Chandler replied, gesturing around her. Everything was a huge mess already, there was trash everywhere and someone was vomiting in a decorative vase. “Look what they’re doing here. I don’t want that at my house. I’d be the one who has to clean it up!” She looked disgusted at the thought. 

“And I don’t want to have to help you.” Duke added, grimacing when a junior boy ran into the room shouting. 

“Heather!” He pointed at the group. “Down in one!” 

The phrase inspired everyone around them to start chanting. “Down in one! Down in one!”

Mac shrugged and tipped her head back, finishing her drink in one gulp. She gave Duke a little shove. 

Duke rolled her eyes and followed suit, looking to Chandler when she was done. “Down in one, Heather.” 

Chandler wrinkled her nose and finished her drink. This earned a large cheer from everyone before they went back to their own business. 

“I hate that.” Chandler scowled, filling her cup again. 

“What’d Kurt even get, PBR?” Mac passed her cup to Chandler for it to be filled again. 

“I don’t know how you can even tell, all beer tastes like asparagus piss.” Duke grumbled as she held her own cup out for a refill. 

Veronica’s nose wrinkled at that. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard, Heather.” She said. “Congrats.”

Duke raised her cup in a mock salute with a dry smile. “Glad to be of service.”

The party was pumping and it looked like Kurt and Ram were being kept entertained by a pair of cheerleaders. Or a pair of girls who were dressed as cheerleaders. Those two seemed to be the only two guys at the school who felt confident enough to approach The Heathers, so they were mostly left alone during the party. This allowed them to do shots without someone making a blow job joke, Veronica had even been able to watch Duke do a body shot off of Chandler without having to hear a threesome joke being made. By a guy at least.

“I would love to get in the middle of that.” Mac muttered, Veronica assumed it was to herself. 

“I don’t think there’s anything stopping you.” 

. .

Veronica stumbled into Chandler’s house, her legs sort of felt like jelly and she had to use Mac and Duke for support. She was definitely drunk, she’d done a lot of tequila shots at Kurt’s party, it took her a few tries to remember what order she was supposed to do them in. Just the thought made her break down in a fit of giggles. 

“What’s so funny?” Mac asked with a little smile as she and Duke started to drag Veronica up the stairs. 

“I don’t know how to drink tequila.” Veronica giggled, putting all of her weight on Mac. “How c-come I’m just... so thrashed and you’re not?”

“Because you insisted on taking shots until you got it right.” Chandler said as she locked the front door. “Do you want to borrow some pajamas?”

Veronica laughed again. “I-I never got the shots right... d-did I?” She paused. “Salt, lime, shot. Right?”

“Wrong.” Duke grunted. “Why is it that I’m stuck carrying people around all night? First Heather and now Veronica? Next year, I’m the one who’s getting carried around.”

“What am I, a pack mule?” Mac muttered. 

Veronica was led into a spare bedroom before Mac and Duke all but threw her onto the bed. “Aren’t you supposed to buy me dinner before you take me to bed?” She giggled. 

“Do you want some pajamas or not?” Chandler demanded. “I’m not asking three times.”

“Why do I need pajamas?” Veronica asked, trying to sit up before falling back down again. “Whoops.” She giggled at that. “We’re supposed to be after-partying!” She sat back up and threw her hands in the air.

“I’m going to push you back down and if you can sit up again, we’ll after-party.” Mac said before shoving Veronica’s forehead back. 

The rest of her body followed head and she fell back onto the bed. She tried to get back up, but every part of her, not just her legs, felt like jelly. Besides the bed was so comfortable, there was no point in getting back up. 

“I live here now.” Veronica mumbled, closing her eyes. “This is my life.”

“Heather, go get a big t-shirt from my dresser.” Chandler sighed. “We’re gonna have to get her into some pajamas or she’ll bitch about it in the morning.” 

The last thing Veronica heard before she fell asleep was Duke and Mac agreeing before a door slammed shut. 

[ptergwen]

haunted house

warnings: two swears and a meh ending

summary: you, peter, and ned go to a haunted house

a/n: it’s spooky season and halloween is soon sooo enjoy (also send me any requests you guys have!!)

—

peter hates halloween. not all of it, like candy and dressing up? he’s all for that. things like horror movies, haunted houses, and even just nighttime in october are what he really hates.

halloween being one of your top three holidays, you go all out. the scary stuff is what really hypes you. you and ned like to binge horror movies every weekend of the month while peter hides his face in a pillow. it’s fun, really. peter just wishes he thought so too.

“i have an idea.” ned declares during one of your movie nights. you pause the nightmare before christmas (peter’s choice) so he can tell you. “what is it?” “we should totally go to this haunted house.” ned gives you his phone, letting you scroll through the article about it. it’s one where people jump out and chase you. you’re definitely not missing out on this.

“oh, we’re going. it looks sick!” you and ned fist bump. “when does it open?” ned takes his phone back to check the website. “when does what open?” peter rubs his eyes. he’d fallen asleep during the movie. knowing how he feels about all things scary, you didn’t want to wake him up to talk about a haunted house.

“don’t worry about it, pete. go back to sleep.” you comb your fingers through peter’s hair a few times to relax him. he gives you a tired smile.

“yeah, dude. don’t. you wouldn’t like it,” ned assures his best friend. “it opens tonight, y/n. let’s go while peter finishes his nap.” peter’s smile turns into a pout. he lifts his head from your shoulder to look at ned. “ok, no. first of all, i don’t wanna be by myself less than a week before halloween.” you and ned share a look.

“second of all, how do you know i wouldn’t like it? you won’t even tell me what it is.”

ned makes a face that tells you to handle it. you mentally flip him off and face peter. “it’s a haunted house. we already know you don’t like them, so we didn’t wanna make you upset or anything.” peter’s eyes widen as he realizes. “oh. well, thanks. i just... i don’t wanna miss out on doing stuff with you guys.” he admits, looking between you and ned.

“dude, we understand. you can come with us.” ned smiles. “if you’re up for it.” you add.

after buying your tickets and heading downtown, the three of you find yourselves on line for the new haunted house. peter keeps his arms around your waist while you and ned talk about what you hope it’s going to be like. somebody screams from inside and peter jumps, tightening his grip on you. you turn around in his arms.

“we don’t have to do this, you know. we can go finish the movie instead.” as much as you want to go in there, it isn’t worth freaking peter out so bad. peter feels the same, only reversed.

“no, no, no, it’s fine. i shouldn’t be what stops you. we’re doing this.” peter decides. he’s too good. you kiss his cheek, making him giggle. “ugh, you guys are probably worse than the haunted house.” ned jokes from behind you. “get out of here, man.” peter laughs as you three move up in line, handing your tickets to a worker.

“guys, we’re next,” ned tells you and peter. you feel peter tense next to you. “it’s okay, peter. i’ll protect you.” you’re half joking, half serious. “isn’t that supposed to be my job? y’know, because i’m-“ “because you’re spider-man, i know.” you finish his sentence for him. “and spider-man is allowed to be afraid.” “thanks for that.” peter half smiles.

“come on, spidey. just give y/n your hand and let’s go,” ned chimes in. peter holds his hand out to you with a shrug. “not a bad idea.” you take it and ned leads the way in.

creepy music is playing as you three get inside. it’s almost pitch black, which actually helps peter focus. the house is pretty uneventful until ned screams. “what happened?” you gasp in surprise and tap ned’s shoulder. “something just touched me!” “it was a spider web, ned,” peter points up to where it hangs from the ceiling.

“how did you- ohhhh. i see you, spidey.” ned reaches over you to do his handshake with peter. “guys! this isn’t the time,” you cut in, taking peter’s hand again.

“scared, babe?” peter whispers to you, his free arm snaking around your waist. “you‘re not?” “it’s actually not that bad. i can tell what’s coming when it’s dark like this.” dating spider-man has its advantages. you lean into peter and follow behind ned to another room.

something pops out of a box right as you enter. “oh, shit!” ned yells. you squeal and back into peter, who doesn’t seem affected. someone dressed as chucky and holding a knife steps out of the box. you scream and run past peter and ned into the next room.

peter catches up to you first. “go away! please leave me alone!” you scream again and close your eyes, thinking he’s chucky. “it’s just me, y/n.” peter speaks softly, hand finding yours. you open your eyes again. “oh my god, ok. good. can you go in front of me?” “yeah. i’ll protect you.” he repeats your words from earlier. you two wait for ned, then peter starts walking you through the room.

“um, can you tell us what’s gonna happen next?” ned asks peter. all he says is “somebody’s coming.” “what?” you and ned yell at the same time. gripping peter’s jacket, you look behind you. sure enough, sounds of a chainsaw starting up fill the room. a man holding the chainsaw appears in the doorway.

“go!” you scream and the three of you run out of the room. the man chases you until you get to the exit.

you run until you’re back on the sidewalk. peter and ned opt for walking. “that was so scary. no, that was terrifying. what the fuck was that? oh my god.” you’re panting, hand on your heart. “it was seriously messed up in there,” ned agrees, elbowing peter. “and we thought you’d be crying or something by now.” “i kinda liked it. maybe i should give all this scary stuff another chance.”

worry is all over peter’s face as he makes his way over to you. “you okay?” “not really, but i’m glad you liked it. no more being a halloween hater for you.” you poke his side gently. he gives you a knowing look. “wanna finish the nightmare before christmas?” putting your arms around his and ned’s shoulders, you grin.

“i’ve been waiting for you to ask.”