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andromeda-nova-writing · 6 months

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A Sticky Situation

Wriothesley x Fem! Reader

Summary: With the sticker count rising higher and higher that week, it has finally reached a point where Wriothesley needed it to slow down for his sanity.

Words: 1,766

AN: I love stickers. I want to join Sigewinne in her bet.

Wriothesely had found what had to be the fifth sticker he had peeled off of his jacket just that morning alone. Not to mention it was the forty-second sticker that week and it was only Thursday morning. Usually, this prank from Sigewinne and the other Melusine wouldn’t bother him too much. It was harmless after all. But Forty-Two Stickers??? All in the same week?

Was it always this many and people were taking them off for him without telling him in pity? No, he would have noticed that if that was the case. It wasn’t like Sigewinne also had more Melusine friends visiting her more than normal. Maybe he really was a bad influence on Sigewinne if her bets had gone this far. Hopefully, that would be the extent of his influence and nothing else.

The one question he couldn’t get out of his mind besides how they were getting so many stickers was, where they were getting so many stickers from. It wasn’t like they got this many stickers sent down here from the overworld or that Sigewinne had the time to make so many stickers. And he hadn’t seen many of Sigewinne’s friends come to the Fortress of Meropide that week. It had to be Sigewinne who was currently winning that bet.

None of it made sense at this point. And what didn’t make even more sense was that he just found a sixth sticker on his boot. Maybe it was time to at least slow her pranks down. He wouldn’t stop them but this was starting to get disruptive. At least make her understand not to sticker on the leather of clothes. It never felt like it cleaned off right. He just hoped by bringing it up the sticker amount would go down instead of jumping it up higher as a challenge.

Making his way out of his office he took a glance around his surroundings. A peak over at the cafeteria had him spotting exactly who he wanted to talk to. Sigewinne was talking to her pharmacist friend from the overworld, a lovely woman who had taken it upon herself to sub in to try and help give Sigewinne a break to join her Melusine friends in the overworld. It made Y/N quite helpful as well if Sigewinne ever requested a set of extra hands as she was more comfortable around the Fortress than anyone else they would send down.

She flipped through a book leaning down just enough to show Sigewinne without causing her to strain her neck. Whatever the two were discussing had caused them to laugh aloud. “Personally, this one is my favorite. Its eyes are bigger than the shark's body."

Yeah, that was different from the normal pharmaceutical talk he never followed along with. It's easy to lose track of everything being referred to in great detail due to its chemical composition. This conversation even a child could follow.

"I take it your lunch went well.” He said making his presence known.

Y/N closed up the book the two were going through handing it off to Sigewinne before standing straight up. “It did. I brought some muffins I bought down to share. How’s your day going so far your Grace?” She looked at him and smiled.

His eyes followed the book that had been handed off. “It's been okay.” He looked back up at Y/N’s face. “What happened to you thinking calling me that was weird?”

“You’re working at the moment. I can respect the professionalism within it even if it feels weird to say. Sigewinne and I were just finishing up.” She bit her lip holding her smile from getting any bigger.

“Anything you need?” Sigewinne asked making sure that the plain back of the book was facing his line of sight. She counted the stickers she could still see on him. There were 4 left. 5 if the one she placed on his chair made it on him.

“Can you at least not place any stickers on leather?” He bargained.

“Hmmm. I don’t see any on leather.” He must have peeled most of those ones off already. Pity.

“I’ve counted forty-three this week. At least twenty of them were on leather. I don't care as long as they aren’t on the leather. Takes too long to clean off right.”

Y/N covered her mouth trying not to laugh. “Fourty-three?” Sigewinne had to be in the lead for sure.

Wriothesley frowned. He really didn’t want to have to bring her into this. “And do you want to tell me what medicine the two of you have been going on about that contains a shark with eyes bigger than its body?”

Annnnnnd Caught.

“I should go back to the infirmary. Someone might have shown up by now.” Sigewinne excused herself before she lost what Y/N had come down to give her.

She looked down at a nonexistent watch on her arm. “Oh look at the time. I should go.” She tried to walk away towards the exit only for Wriothesley to grab her arm and pull her back. “I didn’t dismiss you.”

She turned her head over her shoulder looking back at him. “I’m not working for you today.” “Doesn’t matter. What was the book about?”

“Nothing to worry about. You do see how inappropriate this looks to everyone else. I can practically feel your heartbeat against my back.” “You’ve given me hugs in front of inmates before. We’ll be fine. I’ll let go when you tell me what was in the book.”

"Cause you won a match in the ring. I was high on adrenaline." She rolled her eyes at the memory. "Don't tell me you enjoyed it." She teased.

"Don't change the subject.

“I’m perfectly on topic. I don’t know what you are so pressed about.”

“Do you understand that anything that comes within the Fortress without my knowledge can be considered contraband?"

Y/N pulled out of his loose grip and began walking towards the infirmary. He followed right behind. "Contraband? You do understand that Sigewinne and I are free people who work and sometimes work here."

"I know that. I asked nicely the first time."

"Nicely? You manhandled me." “I think we are running off of two very different definitions.” He lightly elbowed her side. “I have a feeling you’d enjoy that anyway.”

She rolled her eyes hiding a small laugh that tried to creep into her voice. “Wriothesley.” She attempted to scold him.

“We can unpack all of that on a different day.”

“It would be a short day with nothing to unpack.” She sped up her walk. It was hard to take his flirting seriously when there was still a sticker in his hair. He’d benefit from keeping a mirror on his person if the stickers were becoming a problem.

Upon entering the infirmary, Sigewinne and Ottnit were flipping through the infamous book. Laughing. Plotting when to strike their prank next. The two Melusines were clearly enjoying themselves.

“Hi, girls.” Y/N greeted them as she and Wriothesley walked down the stairs towards them. “I’ve been assumed of bringing in contraband. May I see the book for a moment?” She held out her hand as Sigewinne passed her the book. “You do know we aren’t inmates here.” Sigewinne frowned at Wriothesley. “Told him that already.” She showed the open book to Wriothesley. “Happy now?”

His mouth dropped in shock. “I trusted you. Have you been the one supplying them?”

“Stickers are cute. I’m just giving my friends a gift. I don’t think that's betraying your trust.”

“Tell that to all the sticky residue on my jacket and boots. It won’t even come off right.” He complained. “Twenty of them on leather. I’m just covered in sticky dust.”

The three of them couldn’t help but finally break out laughing. Y/N invested her money in the right thing if he was to look this cute pouting. He crossed his arms frowning in an attempt to save himself from turning into a dust ball at the rate it was going.

Y/N handed the book back to Sigewinne. “Ottnit could you get me some baby oil and a few cotton balls.”

“Sure.” She went off and bought back the supplies. Sigewinne went off, setting the sticker book down on her table before sitting on a chair watching the faces of the two infirmary guests.

Y/N took one of the cotton balls and dabbed a bit of the baby oil on it. Ottnit took the bottle of baby oil back. She grabbed one of the sleeves of the jacket and peeled off a sticker he had missed. Wriothesley frowned as she placed the sticker on his nose.

“You are doing a horrible job helping.” He took the sticker off his face and crumbled it up in his hand.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “My grandpa was a leather worker. He told me if there was any sticky residue on any leather, take some baby oil and rub it over it with a cotton ball.” She said as she cleaned off the sleeve of the jacket. She handed the used cotton ball to Ottnit before taking a clean one. “Dry it off with another cotton ball and then it's good as new.”

Wriothesley looked over the sleeve. It was a lot better than his attempts. He sighed. “This doesn’t mean you can keep placing stickers on my jacket or boots,” he told Sigewinne and Ottnit. They were going to keep doing it anyway.

“Nothing to be angry about now.” Y/N dropped the sleeve of the jacket and handed the cotton ball to Ottnit. Ottnit went and threw away the used ones before putting up the baby oil.

“I wasn’t angry.”

“Good cause I’m going to keep giving them stickers.” She reached up pulled a sticker out of hair and placed that one on his nose as well. “I think they look good on you Ri.”

He rolled his eyes before repeating his action from before. “I’m not sure if you know the meaning of help.”

Y/N laughed. “I really need to get back to the surface. This lunch break has been going on a little long. I’ll see you later.” She turned around saying her goodbyes to Sigewinne and Ottnit before leaving the infirmary.

Wriothesley hadn’t even noticed how his eyes hadn’t left her till she was out of sight.

Ottnit sighed shaking her head. “You were right.”

Sigewinne smiled knowing she just won herself even more stickers. “When do you plan on asking her out?”

His head turned over to her. “Forty-five stickers. You get no say in this right now.”

#Wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #Wriothesley #genshin impact

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here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can · 2 months

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headcanons: dating percy jackson (pt. 2)

a/n: i know i said i’d make more and i didn’t. until now so here you go. i know it was supposed to be headcanons but the end was more of a minific. i hope you still like it, though.

also please consider reblogging this if you enjoy it <3

pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader

warnings: none, really

(pt. 1)

percy jackson who absolutely adores you. let me tell you, he is whipped. completely. and it’s the most adorable thing in the world. like when sally, being the sweetheart she is, sends him blue candy and snacks he will share them with you. and if you don’t take them, oh boy.

percy jackson who cannot bake to safe his life. he can cook but his muffins just won’t come out the way he wants them to, no matter which recipe he tries. even if it’s his mom’s, it’s like he’s cursed or something. he tries to make the blue chocolate chip cookies himself and that’s the only thing that works for him when it comes to baking. cake? it burns, somehow. every dam time (i’m sorry, i had to). muffins? he adds too much flour and they come out all dry. he still gives them to you, hoping you’ll still like them so you better pretend you do, even if they get stuck in your throat and you need to chug a gallon of water to be able to eat something else.

percy jackson who brings you something every time he visits his father. a pearl, a seashell, a little trinket, something he made himself which you can collect on your camp necklace.

percy jackson who tells you that he loves you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. but he means it and that’s what makes it special.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

percy jackson who invites you to spend christmas with him and sally in their little new york apartment, baking christmas cookies. they’re blue, of course, even if green or red would be more appropriate for the occasion. you don’t question it. later that evening, you’re cuddled up on the couch, watching christmas movies until percy eventually falls asleep. you are playing with his hair as his breath steadies. you smile when you notice him drifting off to sleep, pressing a lazy kiss to his forehead. you almost jump when you turn to look back at the TV, noticing sally still sitting there. you almost forgot where you are. she smiles, clearly amused but also happy.

“what?” you mouth, careful not to wake percy.

“nothing,” sally says softly, still smiling. the tone of her voice is amused, almost joyful.

she looks back at the TV, chuckling lightly.

“what?” you ask again, giggling a little.

“nothing, nothing.”

you shake your head.

and sally knows you’re the one for her son.

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iplayghoul · 4 months

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wet pussy crybaby .ᐟ simon 'ghost' riley

a/n: 2.1k words.. gun play/gun kink, masterbation descriptions, nudes, use of food for sexual innuendos, simon is a bit mean & strict, use of "doll" "sir" "daddy." an excerpt of da roleplay fic which may remain unfinished sorry yall 🫶🏽

"Please, Simon, c'mon," You beg sweetly as the man mentioned cooks you dinner. You're bouncing on the balls of your feet, anklet jingling and glossy lips pouted. It was actually out of character for you to beg despite the kind and lovely person you were, but you really wanted this. Your strong, buff husband continued to make the creamy alfredo sauce, "Sweetheart, we spoke about this. Not gonna' happen." His rumbly accented voice tells you.

When Simon's not on deployment, you both like to spend your days wasting away in the comfort of your cozy home.

The shared space was like a pleasantly sized cottage, garden overun with an array of several differently coloured rose bushes, a gorgeous pond and vegetables planted out; many were gifted by Simon's co-workers who knew you loved gardening. The inside of the home reflects the softness and brightness of the outside too! Often you'd be baking sweet treats: cakes, double chocolate chip muffins, churros and rice crispy edibles (sometimes, even brownies!). Watching cartoons, old movies, decorating with soft pinks, greys and browns, to your delight. The entire home looked like an explosion of marshmallows and chocolate; evidently an outward reflection of you that Simon enjoyed.

But, when the big, strooong man comes home, he's often marching through your garden: rushed. He's clad in all black and dark army greens, balaclava snug above his nose, brows furrowed and eye-paint still darkening his complexion. You're quite sure he remains suited up because he knows you like it, considering that he could always change before! It's a sight to see surely, and you can't help but remember that this is the same man who watches the little videos you make and the photos you send.

You imagine him clad in his bulky gear, sitting behind his desk. Just back from a mission and receiving word that you'd supplied him with a letter. Among the words you take the time to write out each letter of a couple links, not too sure how else your man will access them. Simon's heart beats like the bass of an R&B song, with every click clack of his keyboard. Typically, on his screen will pop up a video of you: pretty puffy pussy spread wide and leaking. Your fingers achingly stuffing your cunt desperately, sloppily stroking in and out while seeping cries of his name. Your voice was thick and creamy, satisfying to his ears much like the endless stream pouring out your pussy like silk.

Ghost. It's what you've been calling him in the videos you send while he's away. And each time you say it, he can't help but stare at your clit, your cunt like a juicy chocolate covered strawberry dipped in whipped cream; each chant of 'Ghost, Ghost, Gh- ah Ghost!' was the quicker you played with the soft sensitive mound at the tippy top of your pussy.

Considering this, it was no surprise to Simon when you'd asked him to get all his gear on and fuck you with his fat dumb dick. But, he enjoys depriving you of what you'd like, waiting for you to become impatient like you are now. You'd deflated. "C'mon Si', pleaaase?" You drift from around the edge of the kitchen island to wrap your arms around his waist. He drags you like light weight behind him as he pours the pasta into the pan, finishing up dinner and continues to ignore your request. "Please, please, please," you beg once more, pushing your pout out as much as you could and batting your eyelashes up at the man as he turns to face you beneath your grip, leaving your chin propped against his pecs.

He draws a hand behind your head, slipping his hands into the roots of your braids and tugging lightly to keep your eyes on him. "You're such a doll, you know that?" He lets out a chuckle. You nodded but huffed. He was always so... mean n' proper n' teasing! "Simon Riley, answer me right the fuck now." You blinked up at him, and he only purses his lips with a soft smile before releasing your hair and removing your arms off him. "Why don't you be a patient little thing, hm?" He rubs his hands on your hips, moving to grab your plates to serve dinner. "Wait 'till you've stuffed your stomach full. Okay love?" You squint a little, "Know I'mma hold you to that, right?" And he nods.

Dinner goes by silently. And you're beginning to think you're going insane. The reason being, your clit is fattened and pulsing in your panties. Your relatively good mood is being slightly dampered and the pout returned to your lips due to the ache. Your panties uncomfortably stuck between the lips of your pussy! And with each bite of the ooey gooey pasta, you're attracted to the way it slithers and slides between your lips. You can only imagine it as Simon shooting sticky strings of his cum onto your pussy. It's soft n' mushy on your tongue and oh, you think you should suck Simon's cock good just for making this yummy meal. Does your pussy feel this warm n' sloppy n' slippery on Simon's cock? You ache. "You alright, gorgeous?" He queries, gathering up his dish along with yours and taking them to the sink for washing, you get up quick and follow him. "Lemme wash it up, baby. You done did all the cookin'."

Simon observes you curiously, noticing the way that, despite your busy body cleaning up his marvelous work: your thighs were pressed together tight. Folding his arms, he leans back on the counter behind you before his deep voice sparks you out of your dream world when you finished up the dishes. "Alright mama, how about you head upstairs and wait for me while I get changed, hm?" You stop and stare— Do you focus on his orders, or the way that familiar petname sounded in his accent? Then, shuffling towards him, hopeful. "Wait–? Don't play w'me right now. You're gonna do it?" Eyes blown wide like Bambi as you peered up at your husband who remained stoic. "Ass up. Face in the pillows, understood?" You swallowed the cherry-like lump in your throat, tummy tingling while you struggled to find the words to respond. Simon pushes himself off the counter, straightening his height above you, his hazy eyes hold a thousand words. "I said, is that understood?" What feels like sparkles prick about your body and you whisper out, "Yea- Yes, Sir." Then, quickly finding yourself where Simon wanted you.

With long, honey blonde braids splayed across the pillows, your eyes were closed on inhaling Simon's refreshing scent. You're not sure how to describe it really, it was a pleasant musk he just had on him, whenever he got out of the shower, perspired, or just didn't wear deodorant: the yummy scent of him stuck to his skin. Surrounding you and Simon's pillow however, were the several Sanrio plush cushions he'd purchased for you. You enjoyed the comfort they brought to the bed and they all smelt like you, so who was Simon to complain. The more you layed there, ass arched up into the air you began to realize you should've stripped down. "No fuckin' way, man," you mumble beneath your breath and make moves to get up and strip out of your white cropped tank top and black fuzzy shorts that rode up your thighs and into your ass. Much like your pretty patterned panties.

As quickly as you got up, you stuffed yourself back into the pillows, the sound of heavy weighted, steel tipped boots bouncing off the walls and gracing your ears. Eyes screw shut and you feel your clit throb, hard. Your mind follows his footsteps as the beat against the tile floor. You lick your lips, by now every glob of peachy lip gloss was gone. You feel some objects drop onto the bed and you flinch, gripping the pillows a little and peaking an eye open. Hard hands grip the fat of your thighs, squeezing 'em tight, moving up to your shorts, then gripping onto the soft material at your hips. Simon's fingers tickle you and you're holding your breath. He pinches at the material, slowly peeling the shorts off you and you notice his hands are gloved when they brush against you.

Cold air meets the roundness of your ass. You weren't wearing a thong, but your panties exposed the majority of you. They'd stuffed themselves between your ass and suctioned itself to your sticky cunt. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that Simon couldn't see the wet patch. A gloved hand massages the fat of your ass, slightly pulling on the hem of your panties. He'd rip them off you in a swift motion. Except, the only thing that was swift was the loud crack of his palm, stinging your ass. You whisper a squeal-ish 'oh my god' when you hear the smack split the silence in the room. Eyes wide, already springing tears but you choose to withhold your sounds as much as possible. Simon was finally giving you what you wanted, you weren't about to ruin this shit.

Soon comes another smack, smack, smack on your ass. And with each one you let out a strangled moan with a sniffle; tears kissed your pretty cheeks and your ass has the darkest shade of red imprinting itself on you. Simon moves slowly, giving your pained ass a pinch. He then hooks his fingers under the hem of your panties again, sliding them off you slow. You hear a low groan come out if him as you feel him peel it away from your pussy. The sound gracing your ears almost makes you yelp. Like a starved little thing, jumping at the slightest crumb he gives you.

With your pussy exposed, you feel him shuffle off the bed, walking around a few times. Like he was observing you, then pressing back onto the bed. Then a rough hand collects your braids off the pillows. His closeness almost got a whimper out of you but you didn't dare try to look at him. Holding your braids in hand, he ties them up to a loose bun, your head jerking roughly with the manhandling. As if at once he's pulling your body up by your hair, unclothed nipples below your tank top hardened and printing out perky. Your back is uncomfortably pressed up against his uniform or... whatever equipment he was wearing. "S– Simon," You breathe out raggedly, not sure what to do with your hands given your exposed position. "Is that my name?" You hear his voice rumble deeply right above your ear, it's slightly muffled too and you don't know what to think anymore, looking up at the ceiling that seemed interesting. "Ghost, please." You mutter out, and that's when you feel it.

"What is it? Do you want dick? Is that it?" There's a long, cold metal barrel dragging up the bottom of your thigh and pushing at the fat of your ass. "Y– Yea... yes daddy, that's what I want." You can only think it's his gun thats touching you.

You hear the gun click and shut your eyes, assuming that meant it was ready to be shot when the trigger was pulled. Your cunt was cold and lonely exposed to the air. Whatever slick had built up before was almost gone, but it only left you aching for more. Then you felt the tip of the gun press to your temple. And you could see more of Simon than you did before, because now his entire, huge arm was basically in your view as he held the gun up to your head. "G- Ghost?" You can only stutter out, feeling a sob begin to grow at the bottom of your throat, and it took everything in you to resist putting your hands up to hold his arm. His tattoos, peaked through the black uniform, but your eyes were trained on the hand holding the gun above your eyes. "Don't you think you have to work for it?" He grumbles. And he moves his hand from your braids, your body drops to the bed but he's already roughing you back into the position, holding you by your neck this time. Now you can fully see the gun and your tears continue running freely.

He brings the heavy metal weapon up to your face again, tapping it against your lips like it was the tip of his dick. "I asked you a question, didn't I? Aren't'cha gonna' work for this cock?" Suddenly you're all wet again. "Yes, Ghost." You speak out slowly. "Open your mouth then." And you do, plump lips drop open, eyes remaining trained on the gun.

annddd thats all i got 🤭 DONT BEAT MY ASS YALL LMFAOO

#﹒﹒﹒💗 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦: 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 💌 𓂃 !#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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a break in the narrative

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Mature (there are some suggestive themes but nothing explicit) Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: Descriptions of a man's nude upper body, smoking, overuse of italics as per usual Author's Notes: I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the support that has poured forth from people who have read and liked this little series. I'm so truly pleased that everyone has enjoyed it and I am so excited to continue this story. Thank you all very much! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

You learn John’s routine, at least as far as it overlaps with yours, fairly quickly.

He showers first thing in the morning, when normally you are still in bed trying to convince yourself out of it. In the limbo of fading sleep, it is a Herculean effort not to imagine it, not to picture steaming hot water flowing across broad shoulders, between and along full, plush pectorals, dripping along chiseled arms and down that narrow waist to…

You shake your head hard, and then wince when the action sends your toothbrush stabbing into the inside of your cheek. You are drowsily and unwillingly awake. The flow of water on the other side of the wall shuts off. You pretend, as you move on through your own routine, that you’re not thinking of long, strong legs, or anything else that lives below his abdomen.

It’s harder to hear the further away you get from your shared wall, but with a little time you’ve learned how to pick out the sounds of him working in his kitchen. There might be the thunk—never a harsh clang—of a pan on his stove, or the soft clicks of his fridge opening and closing. He doesn’t cook for very long, and washes his dishes in the sink rather than the washer.

You find that little detail endearing. From what little you know of him, it just seems appropriate.

There’s usually some quiet after that, and you’re pretty sure it’s because he’s eating. You picture him standing in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, plate balanced in one big hand. He hasn’t struck you yet as someone who would sit down alone to eat.

And he’s always alone. You have not heard anyone else in his flat. Not once.

You wonder at that as your own breakfast heats up. Does he have friends? Family?

A partner?

Your microwave beeps. You scowl at yourself. That’s none of your business. You don’t even know the man.

After he eats, you usually hear him step outside. You’ve peeked through your window, once, and have found him smoking a cigar, standing casually on his front doorstep. He’d been looking out into the street, his gaze moving evenly and methodically across the surrounding neighborhood, calm and attentive to the morning.

SAS. You’d known immediately what he was doing. An unexpected sense of safety had flooded you immediately, and continues to resonate in the here and now as you hear his door open and close.

Today, though, that safety is threaded with a little anxiety. You have to leave early, and it will be the first time you’ve faced him since that morning you’d spent trying to talk to him while ogling his bare chest.

He hadn’t been shirtless when you’d discovered his smoking habit. He probably is not now, either. You cannot decide if it’s a pity or a relief.

You check your hair a little nervously in the mirror hanging by your front door. Breakfast sits warm in a deep jacket pocket, a couple of English muffins wrapped in their plastic and bundled into a tea towel. Lunch is in your work bag, which sits ready and patiently waiting by your feet.

You’re just delaying. Your hair is fine. You breathe a little shakily, pick up your bag, scold yourself for a simpering idiot, and leave your flat.

“Morning, John,” you say as you step out, smiling, trying your best to sound casual.

His gaze comes to you immediately, and your knees feel very weak when those gorgeous blue eyes warm with a smile.

Goodness. Does he smile at everyone like that?

“Mornin’, love,” he replies, and you resolutely ignore how much love—which half your coworkers call you, too, stupid—makes your heart flutter. “Early start?”

“Yeah,” you say, locking your door, feeling your face already heating with a blush. “And a full day, too.”

He turns his head and exhales a puff of bluish smoke. “Wish I could say the same.”

You wrap both hands around the strap of your bag, lean against your door. You can’t help but surreptitiously look him up and down. House slippers, large. Long legs, hugged by worker’s denim, loose at the ankle and snug at the thigh and hip. A tight gray t-shirt providing an easy reminder of what you’d seen in all its glory only a few days ago. And—

“Mutton chops,” you say.

His brows raise. “Sorry?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “That wasn’t meant to be out loud!”

John gives a laugh that sounds like it isn’t often used. The beard you’d first met him wearing is now trimmed neatly into two even swoops of dark auburn that make his smile look even fuller than before. “I suppose you haven’t seen ‘em, have you?”

You’ve often heard the buzz of his razor going as you’ve dragged yourself out of bed. At that point, of course, his shower is done.

Does he shave shirtless, with a towel around his waist?

You blink hard and shake that traitorous thought out of your head. “Sorry, I—don’t get me wrong, I mean, it suits you!”

The bristles of his mustache sound against the palm of his hand as he rubs his face. “You think so?”

Those gorgeous blue eyes are on you again, soft and appreciative, the same as they had been the morning you’d first met him. It makes your entire body feel a little warmer than it should.

“Anyway,” you say fretfully, scratching at the strap of your work bag, “I wanted to say, I imagine it’s hard to be home sometimes, isn’t it? With nothing to do, I mean.”

He gives a huff, but this time it’s a laugh that’s only trying to be amused. He looks out into the street. “Shouldn’t be, really.”

Most days, you hear him pacing. You think you’re able now to puzzle out his moods according to the tempo he beats against the hardwood floor. Slow, even, steps seem to be days that are better—those are days you don’t have to knock on the wall after he’s turned the TV up. When he blasts some sort of audio, it’s always following a stretch of agitated, arrhythmic circuits that travel the whole length of his flat.

You’ve noticed, though, that when you knock, and after he’s turned it down, the pacing does not resume.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone starts dinging furiously. You huff, dig it out, look at the screen—and roll your eyes.

“And I’ve kept you again, haven’t I?” John says ruefully.

“No!” you exclaim, clearing the notifications and looking up at him. “No, it’s just my coworker losing his bloody mind.” You suck on your cheek. “I should probably get going, though, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, picking up an ash tray and stubbing out his cigar. The rueful quirk of his brow does not leave his face, and the smile he gives seems perfunctory. “Get there safe, will you?”

“Sure, John,” you reply. You want to say something back, tell him something that will make his day easier, but you don’t know what would help, or even be welcome. So you just say, “Thanks.”

You’ve only walked a little ways away when you look back at him, and see him standing with his hand on his open door, about to go inside.

As if he’s felt you gaze on him, he turns and looks at you. You stop in your tracks.

How are his eyes still so blue even this far away?

You lift one hand up. Wave a little hesitantly.

He waves back, easy and casual as you please.

You duck your head, and hurry away.

Your heart jumps to your throat the next morning as you hear him step outside.

You do not need to leave early today, but you’re at your mirror anyway, tidying up your bed head and frowning at yourself.

This is a terrible idea. You have no business doing what you’re about to do. You’re only opening yourself up to disappointment. He’s no one to you, why are you even thinking of doing this? So what if he’d been fucking disappointed when you’d had to leave? You’re just neighbors. It’s been what, a week since he’d come home? If he’s getting attached, it’s no responsibility of yours to deal with.

And really, had he even been disappointed? It’s not like you know him. Maybe that’s just his face. Maybe it’s just your overactive imagination.

Part of you knows you’re making excuses. You aren’t prone to that kind of stupidity. You’ve heard him pacing. You remember shouldn’t be, really.

You know what it’s like to be lonely.

So you get one big mug of coffee in hand, open your front door, and step outside.

John, as expected, is standing there with a lit cigar between his fingers. “Morning, love,” he says, brows lifted. Of course, he hasn’t expected to see you today.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling.

It’s a little colder today, and he’s in a fleece-lined jacket and dark beanie. This surprises you.

“I didn’t think you could get cold, John,” you say, indicating the gear with your mug. “Unless I really was dreaming the first time we met.”

You want to cringe at yourself immediately. Stupid. You have no intention to flirt. You're just being a good neighbor.

The mutton chops spread in a smile. “Bit different when there’s no heat at your back, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” you reply. You bite the inside of your cheek. You hope you sound casual. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you this morning?”

The expression he gives is one that is going to live with you for a long, long time. He blinks at you, slowly, and fixes you with a gaze that goes from surprised to pleased. As it was before, it’s an expression that tells you that you have done something more meaningful than you can know.

“Be happy to have you,” he says, his tenor low and soft.

So, you leave your doorstep to stand with him at his own. He steps to the side, giving you space, and though there is a polite distance between you, something is humming in the empty air.

He surprises you by offering his cigar. Your brows shoot up, and you look from it up to him.

“Maduro,” he says. “Don’t worry—wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t good.”

“Oh,” you say, “thank you, but I don’t smoke.”

He shrugs and takes a drag. “Just came outside to stand with me, then?”

You sip your coffee. It’s the same question you’ve been agonizing over all morning. “Maybe I’m tired of my own company.”

He huffs at that. “Think I know how that feels.”

Silence falls between you, and it is surprisingly comfortable. You think it’s because the two of you are used to not actually speaking to each other—your days occur in parallel, intersecting only with knuckles on the wall. Conversation has not been necessary to be the kind of neighbors you are.

So why are you doing this? Why are you out here, if you’re not even going to speak to him? You’ve been content with the degrees of separation that have characterized your acquaintance with John Price.

Haven’t you?

You peek at him through your lashes. He is every bit as handsome in profile as he is straight on. The mutton chops make his face look fuller, incongruously younger, despite the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Do you like to read?” you find yourself asking.

He turns back to you, brows raised. Somehow the cool morning has seeped into his eyes, sky blue tinted almost periwinkle, sharp and intense and yet still undeniably warm. “Read?”

You have to avert your gaze. Look at the pavement, a sign on the street. “I have plenty of books I wouldn’t mind loaning, is all. It would be something to do.”

His gaze is still on you. You can feel its weight, like hands on your arms, around your wrists. You bring the rim of your mug to your lips and pretend that nothing inside of you is thrumming with the awareness of it.

“Like what?” he asks.

You sip, insisting to yourself that it’s only the heat of your drink warming your ears. “Different things. A retrospective on the Battle of Actium, a Da Vinci biography, an Iranian professor’s memoirs. Those are nonfiction, but I have plenty of novels, too. Space operas. Westerns.” Romances, too, but you aren’t going to mention those.

“Sounds like you’ve got a big bookshelf,” says John, and you think he’s smiling at you.

“And too many books,” you agree. “Which you’re welcome to, if you like.”

You hear him exhale, see pale smoke bloom in front of you both. The scent is earthy and sweet, and a part of you regrets not taking his earlier offer.

The same part of you wonders if it’s what he tastes like.

You’re saved from having the throttle yourself for the thought when John replies, “Think I’ll read ‘em all.”

You blink, and look at him incredulously. “All of them?”

He grins. “You’ve offered a bored soldier on leave something to do, love. There’s a few men I know who’d propose on the spot for that.”

You go completely blank for a single heartbeat. Your brows are trying to make it into your hair. All of the blood in your body rushes to your face, and finally you sputter in protest, “That’s—I—really, now!”

John only adds fuel to that embarrassed flame when he laughs at your expression. It’s a good laugh, a real one, that comes from deep in his chest.

“That’s ridiculous, John, you’ve having me on!” you grouse, covering your mouth with your mug.

“You don’t know too many military men, then,” he chuckles. “They’d fall all over themselves for a pretty girl like you.”

You think your whole body might be hot enough to start steaming. You look at him petulantly. “It’s not nice to tease.”

He smiles and takes a drag. Paints the air translucent blue with his breath. “Haven’t been.”

It’s too much—you can’t string any sensible thoughts together to bring this conversation back under control. This is not how you’d expected the morning to go, is not what you would ever admit to having hoped for.

“I’ll just get those books, then,” you mutter, trying to ignore the smile he wears as you leave his doorstep.

You have a moment to breathe back inside your flat. You realize, as you search along one shelf, that your heart is pounding in your chest, and the scent of his cigar has trapped itself in your lungs. This not good. You should not be this easy.

John is just a bored soldier on leave. He said it himself. You have no business getting worked up over some flirting that likely, to him, means nothing.

If he was even flirting at all, you remind yourself to consider. He’d certainly been amused at your reaction. You don’t think he’d been making fun, but certainly he could’ve just been pushing your buttons.

Haven’t been rings low and purring in your ears.

You return with the three books you’d mentioned, and John takes them all into the crook of his elbow. The stack is dwarfed in his arm.

“Which one should I start with?” he asks, ashtray and cigar stub balanced in his other hand.

You give a surprised laugh. “Why should I care?”

He tilts his head, pins you with amused eyes. “‘M relyin’ on your expertise, I’m afraid. Been a while since I’ve read anything other than reports. Might not be smart enough for the real deal, anymore.”

SAS. “I doubt that.”

He shrugs, and looks at you expectantly.

“Da Vinci, then?” you suggest.

“He did that painting, didn’t he?” John asks. “Louvre. The woman. Uh…”

“Mona Lisa?” you supply, laughing and scandalized. “You have to be teasing now!”

“Well, maybe I’ll be smart enough to talk to you after I finish the book,” John says, accommodating with self-deprecation. “Da Vinci it is.”

You can’t help yourself. “Should I assign you comprehension questions, too? Name three things you remember and such?”

John smiles. “Be something else to do, anyway.”

Oh, this is dangerous. Every good sense in your head is pounding on the inside of your skull, warning you in one unified voice. Bored soldier, pretty girl, knocking on walls, books lent and borrowed. The story writes itself in your head, saccharine and heady—followed swiftly by ugly, mundane, inevitable denouement.

You are familiar now with the narrative of disappointment. You do not want John to wear its mantle.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you say lightly, taking a swallow of your coffee as casually as you can. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Sure,” says John. He looks at you too fondly to stomach. “Appreciated the company.”

“Anytime,” your dumb, traitorous, too-honest mouth gives away.

The next morning begins as the rest do. John’s shower wakes you up. You resolutely don’t think about hot water and hotter skin as you drag yourself out from beneath the covers.

You brush your teeth. His water shuts off. A pan thunks in his kitchen while your first cup of coffee brews.

Silence. You drink. He eats.

You make your second cup. He steps out for his cigar.

A decision hangs on the knob of your front door.

This routine has been comfortable. Safe in its predictability. Measurable in its contributions to your daily life. The previous morning does not have to be anything other than an interesting deviation, a graze up against something more exciting and infinitely more fraught. You can keep the memory of John’s smile, John’s laughter, John’s kind blue eyes sweet and harmless in its ephemerality.

You can ignore the disappointment that stretches hairline cracks across that facade.

Your mug is warm in your hands as you stand in your living room, still and unmoving. From the quiet, the sound of a book falling over on your shelf, lost now of the support of its fellows, captures your attention.

You realize he is going to have to return your books at some point, and relief suddenly floods you. The decision is already made, isn’t it?

He smiles at you when you step out into the morning chill, bundled like you were the first morning into two coats. “There she is! Was hoping you’d join me again.”

Does it show on your face? The warmth that blooms inside of you at that sentiment so openly expressed?

The corner of his eyes crinkle as you stand there, transfixed and unable to hide your pleasure at his words.

“Morning, John,” you finally say. “Finish Da Vinci yet?”

As before, he steps aside, makes room for you on his doorstep. As before, you take the space next to him.

He takes a drag, eyes still on you and creased with amusement. “Not quite,” he says, exhaling. “Always was a poor student. Might take some time.”

You sip from your mug to hide your smile. “At least it’s something to do.”

The smoke from his cigar lingers in the air, mingling with the steam of your coffee.

Bonus notes: the books I referenced here are The War That Made the Roman Empire by Barry Strauss, Leonardo Da Vinci by Walter Isaacson, and Reading Lolita in Tehran and Things I’ve Been Silent About by Azar Nafisi. I wholeheartedly recommend every single one.

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55sturn · 2 months

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SNAP OUT OF IT CHAPTER 0.03

↳ series masterlist! ↳ main masterlist!

↳ summary: in which tensions still run high, even after a week, and matt’s actions have frustrated y/n to the point of nearly snapping, so in a futile attempt to clear and ease her mind, she and jocelyn decide to attend a party, however she only leaves even more confused.

↳ pairings: college student!matt sturniolo x college student!fem!reader

↳ warnings: swearing, drug usage, nicotine usage [both reader and matt smoke cigarettes], alcohol consumption, parties, vomiting, implication of people hooking up, physical violence, verbal arguments, random guy being a creep, unwanted advances, i think that’s it!

↳ important things to note: the part of the song that this chapter is heavily based around is “every time you try to forget who i am, i'll be right there to remind you again, you know me.” and you’ll see why !! also, povs will be changing again, starting with third and then it switches to reader’s pov, and back to third! each pov switch will be shown with a red header!

THIRD PERSON POV

for the most part, things in the dorm shared between y/n and matt, were tense. the air was thick every time the two of them were in the same room. it was a bearable feeling when jocelyn was acting as a buffer of some sort, but the second she left, it became palpable. it left a sour taste in both their mouths, but matt ignored it and preoccupied his mind with countless girls.

y/n was losing sleep over the constant sound of moans and curses leaving the space beneath the floor and bottom of matt’s door. she felt stressed, because between matt having very little concern for y/n at all hours of the night, he refused to acknowledge what had happened the first night there, or even in the past.

as the door slammed shut, y/n scoffed and left her room, stumbling into the kitchen with bleary eyes, grabbing a bottle of water and a muffin from the counter. as she peeled the paper from the muffin, matt stumbled in.

“damn, why don’t you wear clothes like that more often?” matt snickers, gesturing to the cropped, and thin, tank top and short silk sleep shorts y/n wore, making her roll her eyes.

“maybe next time you decide to blow out some bitch’s back, can you keep her from squealing like a dog in heat? some of us are actually trying to sleep.” she spits, throwing her muffin wrapper in the trash, turning to walk to her room.

“hey bug?” matt whispers, loud enough for y/n to hear, causing her to stop dead in her tracks, sending her heart shooting up to her throat.

“you do not get to call me that. you lost any right to call me that the night you called me a dorky fucking loser and that you could never be with someone like me, all because janae broke your heart.” she seethes, returning to her room, letting her door slam shut, making matt jump from the noise.

“i miss you.” matt whispers to himself, his heart twisting in his chest as he retreats back to his room.

following that day, the two didn’t talk much, nor did they even really spare a glance in the other’s direction. y/n was baffled at matt’s level audacity, she couldn’t wrap her head around him calling her “bug”, as if he hadn’t ripped her heart from her chest back in high school, as if he hadn’t tormented for four years, subtly trying to prove her self doubts.

matt wasn’t an idiot by any means, he was just as smart as y/n, if not smarter. but he was arrogant and he was ignorant. and he was an asshole. he learned a lot about her in a short time, the summer they met. but after he broke her heart, he acted like she was a stranger. he resented her because he fell in love with the moment they met, but then he met janae, and slowly forgot about y/n. until she confessed her feelings to him. he was angry about janae rejecting him, but he was angrier about y/n realizing her feelings too late. so he returned the pain janae inflicted upon him because it felt right.

he knew who y/n was from the moment he got his dorm assignment, he just felt that acting like he didn’t recognize her would prove something.

what would it prove?

he didn’t know. he spent so long acting as if she was a stranger to him, that if he kept it up, it wouldn’t give them any room to reconnect but his plan faltered the moment he saw how badly him pretending not to know her, hurt her.

matt was smart. he knew that. everyone knew that. but he also knew he was being stupid treating y/n the way he has when she didn’t even do anything. but he was as prideful as he was smart. and swallowing his pride was not something he was familiar with. every time she got an amazing grade, he felt proud of her, but he felt prouder of himself, he knew he could top her grade, and so he did.

what he didn’t actually know was that every time he topped her grade, it killed her because she thought she had finally accomplished the best she could do, and he blew by her without remorse and with ease, making her feel like she was never going to reach her best potential.

but she was sure that once her film and visual studies course started, she’d be the best in the class. but boy was she in for a rude awakening.

every time she tried to forget what matt meant to her, and who matt was to her at one point, it was as if he'd materialize out of thin air, reminding her that he was always going to be there, in the back of her mind, haunting every decision and thought she made. she felt like she couldn't breathe because of the memories shared between the two, the way he made her feel, because he was like a ghost that attached himself to her, feeding off her self doubt, and reminding her that she'll never be as good as him.

and for matt, she was a parasite in the depths of his mind. clinging to everything that reminded him of her. he couldn't see the colour yellow without thinking of her, no matter how badly he wanted to attach something else to it. he couldn't watch the movie, perks of being a wallflower, without thinking about how every time she watched it when she hung out with nick in high school, the two of them quoting the movie together. every thing he knew about her, stuck to the walls of his mind, unrelenting to let go, permanently altering the way he viewed things.

READER’S POV

i sighed as i called jocelyn for the fourth time, silently cursing her for always having her phone on do not disturb.

"hey it's joce, leave a message after the beep, and i'll get back to you when i can!" her voicemail message hums, followed by the aggravating beep.

"bitch can you please let me know if you left yet? there's a party tonight and i need to go, i need to get out of this fucking dorm." i groan, hanging up after leaving the message, and throwing my phone on the counter.

"since when did you become a party girl?" matt chuckles as he rounds the corner into the kitchen, adjusting the red fitted cap sitting on his head as he leans against the counter opposite to me, his arms folding across his chest, the low lighting hitting his face perfectly, showing off his deep features.

"since when does it matter to you what i do?" i spit, grabbing my phone and an apple, turning to leave when matt speaks up again.

"it always has, you know that." he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down my spine as i spin around, watching as he holds eye contact, trying to gauge my reaction as i scoff.

"i don't know what you are trying to get at here, but these mind games need to stop, matt." i snap, needing him to get over himself, and leave me the hell out of whatever his endgame was.

"alright, princess."

"can you stop being such a cocky douchebag for two minutes and take me seriously?" i groan, watching as he grabs the apple i held onto, his eyes never leaving mine as he takes a bite before placing it back in my hand.

"whatever you say, princess." he hums, winking at me before grabbing his cigarettes and lighter off the table, and heading out the door.

i stand there in the same spot, blinking a few times as i try to ignore the heat building in the pit of my stomach, trying to work through the shock of his actions. and more importantly, the shock of why his actions turned me on. my phone starting ring pulls me out of my shell shocked daze, looking down i see jocelyn’s contact picture flashing across my screen.

“hello?” i hum after sliding my thumb across the screen, waiting for her to speak.

“hi sorry my service has been shit all day but i’m here and i’ve got some shit for you, so can you come help me?”

“yeah i’m on my way.”

after a while of catching up, jocelyn and i began getting ready, wanting to stop by a restaurant a block away before hitting up the party that i was invited to by some random girls in the hallway.

“so where’s matt?”

“probably hooking up with some bitch.” i grunt, pulling up the red leather miniskirt that jocelyn had gifted me, followed by tugging up the zipper that lined the back. i tug the laces through the last few holes of the corset halter top i wore, tying them into a tight bow before turning to facing jocelyn.

“oh my god you look so hot!” jocelyn beams, tugging up the black leather pants she decided on, turning to check out her own ass, giving it a nice slap before laughing. she pairs her pants with a satin-esque strapless corset top, wanting to match with me but made sure we weren’t too matchy-matchy. she chose to pair her outfit with a pair of extra chunky platform boots, while i chose a pair of red platform sandals.

once we finished putting the final touches on our hair and makeup together, we made our way to the restaurant, deciding on walking because it wasn’t too far, and jocelyn insisted i get used to being in heeled shoes before partying in them.

as we sat at the table, waiting for our dinner, she kept looking at me oddly.

“what’s up joce?” i hum, taking a sip of my iced tea as she sighs.

“do you ever miss matt? i know you tell me that you don’t but i know you like the back of my hand, bug, i know you’re not telling me something.” she murmurs, watching with a concerned state as i sigh,

“bee, it’s not that i miss him, i just wish things happened differently i guess, but the more time i spend with him right now, the more i realize that i’m actually glad things turned out the way they did.” i mumble, fiddling with my straw.

“y/n m/n, i see the way you watch him sometimes.”

“jocelyn, let’s just drop this okay.” i snap, not meaning to get so angry but talking about matt always brought forth a visceral reaction, maybe it’s because i wasn’t as healed from everything as i tried to say that i was.

“you’re a shithead.” she laughs, knowing to take my anger with a grain of salt, she knows it comes from me not processing and healing from it the way i should be, and that i’m not actually angry at her.

the waiter brings the appetizer plate we had ordered, both of us giggling as picked our favourites and put them on the smaller plates, like we had done many times on many nights out with our fake IDs, making a mental note to always have some sort of food in our stomachs before getting drunk.

as we eat, we talk about all the party stories we could remember from high school, laughing as we recount every stupid drunk thing we did. after about an hour and a half, we decide it’s time to head to the party, seeing as it’s nearly ten already.

as we approach the fraternity that was hosting, we both snort at the scene in front of us, giggling at how it looks like something out of project x. we slowly make our rounds, spotting some people we went to high school with, as i’m looking around the crowd, i spot matt who briefly makes eye contact with me, smirking and turning back to the girl in front of him, before quickly snapping his attention back to me, his eyes trailing up and down my body, a mix of a shocked smile and smug grin toying at his lips before he looks away again.

despite that his attention was the last that i wanted on me, him doing a double take starts to fuel my confidence. i continue toward the kitchen, grabbing the vodka, a redbull for jocelyn’s drink, two red solo cups, a sprite, and some peach juice that sat on the counter. i begin to pour the vodka into both cups, and i’m about to pour the peach juice when i feel hands on my waist. i turn to find some guy i don’t know, he seems a bit older than most people here and a weird feeling begins to stir in the pit of my stomach.

“hey pretty girl, you got a boyfriend?”

“yeah i do, he’s over there.” i mutter, jerking my head in the direction where matt stood, watching as the guys nods, deciding to back off as matt watches from the corner.

i return to finishing the drinks, both of them basically being the same except that an entire 250mL redbull went into jocelyn’s drink. i throw my trash into the massive recycling bin before grabbing the cups, and bringing them back over to jocelyn who was talking to chris. i hand jocelyn hers, watching as she downs nearly half of it before staring at me, wanting me to do the same.

“hey chris.” i nod, quickly downing half of my drink to be on the same level as jocelyn, who laughs and claps like a proud mom.

i catch up with nick, while jocelyn and chris dance nearby, the two of them finally giving into their tension, both nick and i grimacing at the two of them shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. i began people watching, my eyes trailing back to matt, who’s already staring at me. i roll my eyes as he smirks, pulling the girl beside him so that she stood in front of him, the two begin making out and yet, matt’s eyes never leave me, causing another shiver to run down my spine.

“hey love.”

i look at nick with wide eyes i hear the same voice from before, i begin to feel uneasy again as i turn to face the guy, who seems to be unable to take a hint.

“hi?”

“come dance with me.” he grunts, his hand around my wrist, tugging me to the makeshift dance floor, his grip tightening around my wrist, causing me to wince as he spins me around, pressing my back to his front. i let him move my hips side to side stiffly as he forces me to grind against him, i can’t shake the uneasy feeling stirring inside of me, i let him take control, terrified of what he might do. after the song finishes, i pull away from him, letting him know i was going to find my friend before ducking into the crowd, hoping to make a clean break away.

as i stand outside on the deck, i begin to shake, i lean against the side of the house, watching the people in the yard, as i’m about to make my way back inside when the same guy steps outside, his grin turning sinister as he spots.

“got nowhere to run now, baby.” he chuckles, placing both hands on either side of my head, boxing me in, and the reality of everything begins to set in as i watch his eyes trail around my face.

“buddy, you should back the fuck off.” matt scoffs from beside us, causing the guy to pull back, momentarily knocking his focus, which gave me the opportunity to push him back and run toward matt, hiding behind him as matt stares the guy down.

“the fuck you looking at? i’ll kick your scrawny ass.” the guy spits, watching matt as he shrugs, flicking the cigarette between his fingers into the lawn before turning his hat around so that it sat backwards atop his head. the guy lunges at matt, which he dodges, swiftly landing a punch to guy’s stomach, causing the guy to double over in pain, which gave matt the upper hand.

matt knees the guy in the face, sending him flying back, and matt was quick to clamber on top of him, sending blow after blow to the guy’s face. my feet moved before my mind did, and i was quick to seek jocelyn out, grabbing her wrist and chris’ as well, dragging them over to matt as he kept beating the shit out of the creep that wouldn’t leave me alone.

“this guy started hitting on me and wouldn’t take no for an answer and matt was here and he got mad and starting kicking his ass, i don’t know what to do.” i sob, leaning against chris as he wrapped his arms around me. jocelyn was pissed as she hooked her fingers in matt’s collar, dragging him off the creep and pushing him back against the railing.

“matthew! fucking snap out of it, you’re making shit worse for y/n. she doesn’t need you playing hero when you won’t leave her the fuck alone or stop tormenting her.” jocelyn yells, slapping matt’s shoulder, causing him to scoff as he looks at me.

“a thank you would be nice, bug, i just saved your ass.” he laughs, causing jocelyn to slap him across the face this time.

“you don’t get to call her that, matt. quit trying to hurt her more than you already have.” jocelyn seethes, her voice low and thick with anger as she shoves matt towards the steps of the deck, watching as he stumbles down them.

i feel my breathing begin to pick up and tears prick my eyes, i look matt, watching as he lights another cigarette, shoving his hand in his pocket as chris and nick berate him for acting so stupidly on impulse. and as i walk ahead, i can’t stop the sob that’s forcing its way up my throat from escaping. i stop in my tracks, feeling jocelyn’s arms wrap around me as she leads me down the sidewalk, murmuring sweet nothings against my hair.

“why couldn’t he just leave me alone?”

“cause he’s a fucking creep, babe. i’m sorry this happened, you didn’t deserve that.”

“bu-y/n, i know you’re mad at me, i get that but i’ve told you once before that i’d protect you, and i still mean it.” matt hiccups, facing me as he walks backwards, his words slurring slightly causing me to scoff.

“please just stop matt. you’re just drunk, you don’t mean the shit you’re saying. and frankly, you’ve done nothing but make shit hard for me since we got here, so please just stop. we’re not friends. we’re not even acquaintances. we’re nothing but two people who used to be friends that now hate each other, because your actions, might i remind you.” i spit, brushing past him and briskly walking to our dorm building, need to put this night behind me once and for all.

↳ taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @florcult @33sturniolo @greatooglymooglyyy @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @breeloveschris @thugpugs4lrh @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby @whatrulookingat11 @kqyslyho3 [TAGLIST IS FULL!]

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x fem!reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x fem!reader #matthew sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo series #matthew sturniolo series #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia #academic rivals to lovers #rivals to lovers

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lessirussoss · 11 months

Text

georgia stanway as your girlfriend

• physical touch. lingering touches when standing next to one another, pinky’s intertwined when around those who aren’t completely familiar with the two of you. you aren’t massive on pda but there’s always a hand on your hip or an arm wrapped around georgia’s bicep.

• MATCHING OUTFITS. but not the cringy ones that are like exactly the same but matching colours or coordinating ones and the same shoes. everyone loves it too, but georgia’s never the one choosing, you always choose the colours or the shoes and it’s known that it works like that too.

• always posting eachother, but like off guard pictures always of them when looking away or pictures of you two that teammates and friends took of you during a conversation or a quiet moment between the two of you.

• no one would ever pin georgia as a jealous person before she got with you. her jealousy wasn’t overly possessive but protective in the best way possible. her eyes were always on you, ready to confront anyone who’s eyes were wondering for too long.

• definitely a few tattoos of georgia’s that are dedicated to you, small moments capsulated in a doodle, nights in your city whenever she comes to visit, small trips with just you two and so many more memories are sprinkled over her torso.

• she LOVES when you do her hair, although most of the time her hair’s only in a ponytail or left hanging over her shoulders, she lives for the quiet moments between the two of you while laying in bed after a hectic day out.

• she knows you like the back of her hand, always knowing what to order you at a restaurant if your running a bit late and whenever friends or family ask what to get you for christmas or your birthday she always has the perfect answer.

• you are a main part of her game day rituals, if you play together you’ll do your hair the same while in the changing rooms, if you play separately or don’t play at all you’ll send her a message of encouragement that she’ll read before getting herself ready for the pre match rituals.

• for night outs you’ll get ready in your shared bathroom with music blaring and pre drinks already half empty. you’d always be the last one ready so as she’s waiting she’d stand behind you with arms around your waist admiring your unready state.

• CAFE DATES!! every time you go to a new town or city you have to have at least one date in a new cafe. you’ll always get a tea and georgia will forever be getting a hot chocolate, you always end up sharing a muffin of some sort (probably chocolate) because that’s what she always insists upon buying.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso masterlist #woso one shot #woso soccer #georgia stanway #i don’t know why i decided to post this now but oh well have this ig #lots of love

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obsessedwithyouxx · 18 days

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Pt. 1 of Random Sodapop headcannons bcz why tf not

I don’t have these thought out in advance I’m js writing as I go so i take full blame for mistakes and shit

- He totally has a high pitched girly scream

- Yk how Pony commented on his spelling in the letter? Well news flash: Soda cannot spell for his life.

- His handwriting is a messsss

- Him n Dal have a shared fear of spiders and they totally got trapped in a room together with a spider one time and were screaming at each other to kill it

- He’s like SO oblivious you can full on shove a pickup line right in his face and he won’t realise your flirting until you outright say “I’m flirting with you.”

- He did go to Vietnam after the books events but he DIDN’T die bcz i said so😊

- Food colouring in everything he cooks. If it’s not food colouring, it’s mixing the most weird ass food combinations. It was already mentioned me made green pancakes, well, some of his other favourites were his pink muffins, blue potato mash and purple roast.

- All of the above (and most things he cooks) taste like absolute dog shit, but his brothers eat it to make him happy (Soda actually enjoys it)

- He gets bored way too easily and can’t sit still for his life

- He genuinely loves the snow and will spend hours in it without even realising he’s cold, but the moment Darry drags him back inside he basically collapses in the couch

- He’s totally sick all Christmas season, like, the reddest nose you’ve seen and sniffling all day which he loves complaining about, but the moment someone actually takes him seriously he’s all like “no I’m fine don’t worry about me”

- He totally uses his fingers for math but them moment he doesn’t have enough fingers he’s screwed

- Whenever he has to write out checks (what’s a check? don’t ask me i don’t think i used the right word) or whatever you call it where you like write the (receipt? the bill?) the amount something costs for the customers at the DX he just gives it to Steve bcz he A) can’t do math and B) can’t spell and C) his handwriting looks like a dog spewed its guts everywhere

- He he totally the type of guy to be watching a horror movie with his friends and then be laughing at everyone who’s scared but the moment he actually looks at the screen there’s a massive jumpscare and he screams soo loud

- you could send him to get the groceries, and instead he’ll come back with every weird trinket he finds OTHER than what’s on teh shopping list

- he was totally part of the Ponyboy naming team, like, he was so obsessed with horses that he kept asking for a horse and so his parents told him “you’re getting a little brother, not a horse” and then he started saying Ponyboy

- when they used to attend church, pony would be half asleep, Darry would be sitting, listening, but soda would be basically bursting at the seams and end up making the randoms most off topic comments

- and when his brothers didn’t react to that he’d start elbowing them and trying to get their attention but just end up getting told off

- the same thing basically happened in school too

- He’s lactose intolerant which is technically kind of canon bcz it was in a fanfic the S.E. Hilton herself wrote

- He’s also totally one of those people who will have the randomest allergic reaction and brush it off like it’s fine even though he’s practically anaphylactic or sum shit

I’ve written too much but yall are totally getting a part two heheheh

#the outsiders #the outsiders sodapop #sodapop curtis #dally and soda are hot as shit #sodapop is the loml though #sodapop headcanons #headcannons

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dumbificat · 2 months

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hehehe hihi dumbii!!

for pjsk: how do you think spending winter with akito, tsukasa and len would be like?

<33 no pressure, take your time && i hope you're doing well!!

hellooo lovely, thank you for your patience ♡ here you go !

☆ - akito, tsukasa, len fluff | wc: 800 ♡ - no warnings | gn reader ♪ - note:: all can be read platonically, but len’s is strictly platonic. akito and tsukasa’s can be read romantically if you so wish. ★ - taglist -> @nostalgic-muffins @mccnstruck | send an ask to join taglist

when you received a message inviting you over to AKITO’S home, you contemplated not going. it wasn’t anything personal, but the icy chill that ran cold through the air of december was a wonderful deterrent from going outside. though, after some back and forth, and a lot of convincing, you put on your warmest clothes and made your way over to him. the sub-zero weather made your nose scrunch up when you first left your house, but knowing you’d get to spend some time with AKITO made it seem much more worth it.

he greeted you when you arrived, removing your coat for you before swiftly moving you to the living room. before you could voice your complaints, you were shocked still when you saw what he’d done. on the sofa was a mountain of blankets, there were all your favourite snacks and movies pilled up and ready to be binged. whipping your head around, you found no AKITO in sight. confused, you wondered through the room into the kitchen where you found him preparing hot chocolate for you both.

in awe of his preparedness, you hurried back into the living room and buried yourself in the pile of blankets. with the drinks made, AKITO came and joined you under the blankets, but not before playing one of the movies. you may not have wanted to go out in the first place, but it was ultimately a great decision to do so. after all, nothing can stop AKITO from having hot chocolate in winter, especially when he can share some with you.

TSUKASA is the type to rush out when it first snows, dragging you with him. you’re both wrapped up tight, not wanting to get sick from the bitter cold. with your hand in his, you walk through a winter wonderland together. you stop in the middle of the empty road, a soft glow illuminating you both from the streetlights above. just as you’re about to gently chide him for rushing you out in the cold, TSUKASA turned to you with the brightest smile and the words get caught in your throat.

you can feel the glacial chill biting your cheeks, yet the snow, cascading from the dark skies above, left raw kisses on your skin. you pull TSUKASA towards you, his happiness apparent when he wraps his arms around you. you can see small snowflakes landing on his eyelashes, vanishing just as quickly as they fell when he blinks. you sigh softly, puffing cold smoke into his face which he chuckles at. he pulls you even closer, each other’s natural heat appreciated, but he moves away before you can truly warm up.

taking your hand once more, he moves you until you’re both in the swing of a simple dance. you twist and turn, moving carefully on the icy street as the snow continued to fall. you were the only one to witness the almost halo-like ring of icy crystals on TSUKASA’S hair, a sight straight from a fairytale- it was a real honour to see. despite the cold, neither of you wanted the night, this sweet dance between the two of you, to end.

when it comes to tree decorating, LEN is the first to jump at the opportunity. the others had helped decorate the rest of the rooms, colourful ribbons and garlands hanging beautifully on the walls and ceilings. it would normally be LEN, rin and kaito decorating the tree, but this time the other two were busy so that left the poor boy alone. of course, he invited you to join him. that’s how you found yourself with him on a chilly winters afternoon, preparing to adorn a christmas tree.

with the warmth of the crackling fire and your good friend by your side, you got to work. reaching into the box of decor, you pulled out a few small ornaments and started hanging them on the tree’s branches. the way the branches tickled your fingers with their small pointed leaves was a welcomed sensation only this context could bring. when you glanced over at LEN, he was wearing tinsel like a scarf and had a santa hat on. where he got the hat, you had no clue. before you could ask, he pulled one, seemingly out of nowhere, for you, placing it crookedly on your head. you took it upon yourself to get your own tinsel scarf, deciding the match colours with LEN.

in no time, the tree was decorated fully, the tinsel and small lights shining brightly in the boy’s eyes. you stood together, looking on at the outcome of your hard work with proud smiles on your faces. after all that decorating, the pair of you deserved a break, so you headed over to MEIKO for some well-earned hot chocolate and cookies.

thank you for reading, please reblog if you enjoyed :)

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milomarigold · 11 months

Text

Baxter Ward Headcanon - Lunch Dates

Gender neutral | SFW Fluff | Baxter Ward x MC

First headcanon, hope ya enjoy!

🍁 Being a wedding planner is no easy feat! From planning bigger details like the wedding theme to smaller details like stainless steel or wooden cutlery. That's where Baxter's diligence, organization, and flexibility (📏) comes in handy!

🍁 However, planning such grand events also means our Victorian emo boy tends to skips out on lunch to get more work done. Especially during bigger assignments!

🍁 Since you know he usually only has a black coffee in the morning, you decide to suggest you both get lunch breaks together! It takes a bit of convincing, he wouldn't want to inconvenience you, but in the end he can't resist a chance to spend more time with his charming MC~

Baxter: "You're worried about me skipping meals? Well, my schedule can get hectic. Are you sure it wouldn't trouble you? I wouldn't want to get in the way of what you have to do… Although I'll admit, a chance to see your charming self sounds lovely. Alright then, having lunch dates sounds excellent~"

🍁 His lunch breaks are an hour long. Before your lunch dates he usually didn't use the full time (only the required 30 min) because…

Baxter: (on the phone) "What do you mean the tablecloths are cotton and not linen?? Linda, stay put, I'm on my way."

However, he does try to remain the whole hour with you when your lunch dates begin. He adjusts letting the wedding couple know he will be gone for an hour, but as soon as the break is over they'll have his undivided attention.

🍁 It takes a bit of getting used to at the beginning. He can't help but check his phone when notifications come in, for example. As long as it's not an emergency, you gently remind him it's his time and to enjoy the snack in front of him.

Baxter: "But darling, you're the whole damn meal~"

🍁 He prefers to eat out rather than stay in the office. To avoid co-workers asking questions that lead to him helping to find that one file, and answer that call, oh and he has to call this one place-

🍁 He quickly comes to look forward to your little lunch dates. Seeing how passionately you talk about your interests and the smile on your face when you eat your favorite snack has him smitten!!

🍁 You guys are gossip buddies. Neither of you share anything hurtful, but you two also can't help talking about the shenanigans that go on at your respective workplaces.

Baxter: "One morning Michael came in complaining about a speed bump on the highway…I ponder who he ran over." (Sips coffee casually)

🍁 Baxter's eyes sparkle if you surprise him with a homemade meal. Especially touched if you remember his preferences; such as something pescatarian or something with peaches. You don't have to worry about your cooking skills, your intention matters more to him! His co-workers will notice he's extra chipper that afternoon.

🍁 In return, he'll also prepare a lunch for both of you the night before. He plans to make something that's only a "tad" extra, but always gets carried away and creates the most Instagram/Pinterest worthy aesthetic lunches you ever did see.

Baxter: "It's just a little something to thank you for the other day." 💜

🍁 You both agree to meet at a chill little park near work when you make lunches for each other. You have a special picnic blanket for the occasion that's so comfy you almost lose track of time.

🍁 On days where you can't meet up, you either face call each other or simply text each other to make sure the other has eaten.

💬 Yes, darling I just finished off lunch. It was great, I would've enjoyed it far more with your company, but alas! How about you, have you eaten yet?

🍁 Sometimes you send donuts, muffins and other treats to Baxter's office where he shares with his co-workers. His co-workers like you very much for this reason, haha! It also gives Baxter the opportunity to make more friends.

🍁 Over lunch, he occasionally brings up some wedding planning hitches. You help him figure out solutions when he's stumped.

Baxter: "Darling you're brilliant! Perhaps you're due for a reward? Are you free tonight? I'd love to show you my gratitude~"

Overall, meeting for lunch gives you both another opportunity to take care of each other. He feels the stress melt away as soon as he sees his favorite person and it makes his lunch that much sweeter.

#beloved oreo man #the ol1 victorian clown #ourlife #baxter ward #our life beginnings & always #gb patch #Baxter ward x reader #Baxter ward x mc

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romeulusroy · 11 months

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Succession Preference: Handmade Presents From S/O

Requested: Preference: How the Siblings react to their S.O giving them a handmade gift? (maybe a bouquet of flowers they thoughtfully picked out at a florist themselves, baked goods, a coffee/tea mug they decorated or a homemade meal?) i hope this sounds good!! ♡ - anon

A/N: This is so cute my love!!!! Thank you for requesting!!! I really hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Connor appreciates your home cooked meals to no end. He thanks you forever. It doesn't matter if it took hours or thirty minutes, Connor won't let you live it down. He brags to his siblings all the time about how thoughtful and caring and considerate you are. You try to shrug it off like it's nothing, but he won't have that. Seriously. The only time he ever got anything home cooked was when he was a little kid, maybe once a year if his mother made him eggs or a grilled cheese. You go above and beyond when you cook. You never mind, you love sharing it with him. He compliments everything, making you laugh. Food is how you show your love. Sometimes, when you have the time, you make extra and send it with him to give to his brothers and sister. They love it, too. It's like they've never eaten before. They're all full of compliments and it makes them like you even more, which doesn't hurt either.

Kendall loves when you bake anything, but especially when you bake something he loves. You've been doing this since you were dating, but now that you're married it's become a rare occurrence. With work and life you don't always have the time. When you do, you like to send him to the office with everyone's favorites. Logan's blueberry muffins, Gerri's lemon squares, Karl's cinnamon rolls. You make extras of Kendall's favorites so he can have them at home and at work, surprising him when he gets home and the Tupperware is empty. It makes him feel so loved, so appreciated. He's a menace in the kitchen, always wanting to taste the raw batter and lick the icing. When you do it, it means you really thought about him, what he likes, what makes him happy. Not many people have done that in his life. But you? You make time for him and his happiness and that is priceless. It reminds him that he is capable of being loved.

Shiv isn't sure what to say. It's perfect. A bouquet of all her favorite flowers and colors in a vase she didn't even know either of you owned. Next to it is a little card with her name wishing her a good day. It sits on her office desk, just waiting for her. No one had ever done anything like this for her. Not her family, not Tom. She wasn't even sure he knew any one of her favorite flowers, and yet you had them all. You didn't sign the card, but you didn't have to. Tears well up in her eyes, but she's quick to blink them away. It's beautiful. She doesn't want to touch it or move it out of fear that petals might fall off. Once word spreads that you got specialized flowers sent to the office, the jokes start flowing in. She doesn't care what anyone has to say about this, especially her father and brothers. She feels so loved and seen, the most she's ever felt in her life. When she gets home she talks lightly of it, thanking you, but you can see the smile she's trying to hide. This small act means the world to her.

Roman is shocked. He doesn't know what to say. You start to feel insecure, like this wasn't something he'd like let along love. Under the ribbon and wrapping paper is a handmade mug with the date you officially became a couple. It was a little misshapen, but other than that it was perfect. You'd picked out the perfect color palette, too. All his favorite colors. No one had ever done anything like this for him before. No one has ever thought about him so thoughtfully. Roman holds out his hands, careful, scared he's going to break it. He looks it over a few times and holds it close before realizing who he's supposed to be. This fucking thing, it's, it's- thank you. That's the last thing he says about it. You catch him using it almost every day, holding it with both hands, hand washing it. He truly loves it. So much. It's his most prized possession. He never says anything about it again, though you catch him going through every cupboard looking for it, mumbling to himself. It's right in front of you, Rome. He breathes a huge sigh of relief. If he lost it or broke it he's not sure what he'd do.

#requested #prefrence #headcanon #connor roy #connor roy headcanon #connor roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy headcanon #shiv roy #shiv roy headcanon #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy headcanon #roman roy heeadcanon #succession #succession headcanon #succession x reader

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heyidkyay · 4 months

Text

THE 1975 | MASTERLIST

MATTY

Works

Blueberry Muffin 4.2k words

London, its many strangers, and a whole lot of guessing..?

Tag along 9.6k words Part One Part Two

A single phone call leads to a concert… where you catch the eye of a certain singer.

10 Things Y/n Can't Live Without | GQ 3.1k words

Reader's GQ interview!

These things, they have been playing on my mind 11.2k words

Professor!Matty

It all starts with a cancelled lecture. Then there are the shared smiles, the catching of eyes, the train rides... I don't really see it coming until, finally I do.

Pause it, play it, pause it, play it 5.3k words

Market girl AU

Saturday's are always the same working the stall, until a stranger stops in to disrupt your cassette display...

Series

Who can say no to bridezilla? 30.6k words (completed)

With no date to your sister's wedding, what are you to do? No worries though, she's already got it covered, well, sort of...

Masterlist

And I'm petrified of being alone, now (WIP)

She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for?

But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine. What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Masterlist

Song Inspired

1:02 1.2k words

I loved her but she didn’t feel the same way. I don’t even think she knew I loved her.

GEORGE

Series

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name 186.7k words (completed)

In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Masterlist

#masterlist #the 1975 #fic #matty healy #george daniel #the 1975 band #i guess i’ll take this pain fic #aipoban #bridezilla #heyidkyay

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elcpsstuff · 8 months

Text

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 19)

so i’m never gonna dance again, the way I danced with you.

—

A/N: Hi guys! This chapter turns me inside out so I hope you guys enjoy :)

Synopsis: wait and see 🤞🏻

—

“wake up!”

Susannah’s voice echoed through the halls and my room, sending me into a full fledged groan. Today was the day that I’ve been dreading: the debutante ball.

Not just because it’s the ball, and I have to stand in front of many people and ‘come of age’ but it also marks the end of summer. Something I really hate.

To say this summer hasn’t been crazy would be an understatement. I would be lying though if I said I hadn’t mended relationships. Me and Belly seemed stronger than ever as-well as Steven and I. (let’s just hope he doesn’t find out about Conrad) The only relationship that needed mending was Jeremiah.

I know he didn’t approve of what happened with me and Conrad, but deep down in my heart I think he knows it was real. Because it was, Conrad and I. Even if it ended like this.

“yn.”

I snap out of my thoughts to see Susannah on the edge of my bed. Her smile is radiant as ever, classic Susannah.

“Sorry, I spaced.”

She runs a hand down my leg and smiles through her eyes, “Ready for the big day?”

I shake my head, “Honestly.. no.”

“Yn, I know this was hard to do. Last year, I know this didn’t go well for you but- it’ll be better.” I share her a smile and put my hand on top of hers.

“I also know things have been, different with you and Conrad but—” I shake my head before she can finish, “Me and Conrad are fine, Susannah, don’t worry.”

She sheds a knowing smile off her face and a small laughter escapes her lips. “Oh yn.”

“What?”

“You don’t see it now, what I see.”

My heartbeat begins to accelerate quicker and quicker as the words slip out of her mouth, “I don’t understand..?”

“First loves are precious, yn. Don’t let it slip.” Her eyes are glossy and she cups my cheeks so gently that I could almost cry. I hold the tears back. She lets go and shakes the non- existent dirt off her legs before getting up.

“Meet me downstairs, okay?”

I nod before she slips out the door.

After getting ready I grab my bag and head down the stairs. I heard faint voices and they got louder as I walked into the kitchen. Belly, Conrad, and Jeremiah were all there.

“Yn! I need your help.” Belly gushes about her makeup and something she needs help with but it was all a blur as I watch Conrad’s expression from the corner.

I make my way over to the muffins on the counter and lick my lips when I see my favorite. Birthday cake.

“Got it for you.” Conrad whispers against my ear.

“Uh- thanks.” I take the muffin and stuff half of it in my face, avoiding any possible conversation with him.

“Girls! You need to get going.” Susannah walks into the kitchen and hands Belly her bag. Susannah in task mode is something I would always love and appreciate, even if it got annoying. “Also, everybody please stay out of living room! After the ball, we’re doing a huge revealing of the portraits.”

Everyone agreed and Belly and Jeremiah both walked towards the front door, and before I could follow them a arm dragged me back.

“What, Conrad?”

“I uh- I wanna, just wish you good luck.” I furrowed my eyebrows at him but decided not to push my luck with it. Conrad saying these things were rare.

“Thanks, Conrad.” Conrad. Not Connie or Con, Conrad.

I suddenly felt the urge to run into his arms and kiss him but I fought back.

“Yn! Come here!” Laurel shouts from the living room and I shed Conrad a sympathetic smile, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He only nods before walking up the stairs. I let out a huge sigh of relief because I seriously don’t think I’ve been breathing while talking to him. I walk carefully over to the living room to avoid any jump scares from Laurel and Susannah.

I was surprised to see something else. It’s the dress.

The dress I wanted.

“Oh my.. you got me—”

“The dress, of course.” Susannah runs a hand down the dress, revealing its silky shine. Laurel stands proudly. “We already showed Belly hers. This one was made for you, though.”

“Thank you thank you!” I jump and run into both of their arms at the same time. I truly was thankful. Things haven’t always been easy between me and Laurel, but everything was better now. This is good, how it’s supposed to be.

—

“You guys seriously need to talk this out, okay?” Shayla pats the seat next to Nicole and I reluctantly sit. No, I still haven’t talked to Nicole because I’m pissed at her for leaving us in the cove naked.

I decide to make the first move, “Nicole, I’m really sorry about what happened. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine, yn. Conrad isn’t that special, i’m here with someone else anyways?” She says it with such spite in her voice, like she could get anybody in the world. Granted, she was really pretty.

“Can you at least let me explain?” I plead.

She slowly nods and I take a deep breath before explaining, “Look, I’ve had a crush on Conrad for.. a long time. We used to be best friends since we were 10, and last summer, things changed between us.” I read her face before continuing and she looks okay, “But, Conrad took everything away. He decided when we talked. He just, discarded our friendship. Whatever it was. Listen, Nicole, I swear to you it’s over between me and Conrad.”

She laughs a little which sends me into confusion, “Yn, nobody gets over their first love. Not completely.” Her words took me back to what Susannah said this morning. Why was everyone saying Conrad was my first love?

You idiot, because he was. Is.

“It’s not your fault Conrad’s a fuck boy. He makes every girl feel invincible and then drops them. It’s no secret Belly liked him too, you know.”

This time, i’m the one laughing. “I guess we have a type, huh?”

“I don’t blame you though.” Nicole’s voice gets more serious: “I get it. Conrad’s your first love. And first loves.. kinda the ocean. It never really stops.”

I never thought of it that way. But it was true. My love for Conrad was never ending. I would always love him, no matter how deep I buried him, he’d always be there, a piece of me.

Nicole goes back to applying her makeup and I sit there for a moment, completely in a world of my own.

—

Age 13, Summer.

Learning to swim was a lot harder than I thought. The water felt tense against my body like it was constantly threatening to drown me.

“I can’t do this, Con.”

He splashes my face a little, “Yes you can, stop being a baby.”

I groan and he starts to tread into the deep end, “Just, swim to me. Nothings gonna happen to you if you just put your arms out and push.”

Just swim. Can’t be that hard?

I slowly nod and breathe in a little. Swimming has never come easy to me. Belly was so good at it, so I vowed to myself I would get it one today. Conrad promised he would help me too.

I push myself forward off the wall and move my hands in the motion Conrad taught me. His words kept me going. “Good, see, swim to me.” I didn’t really know where he was so when I looked up from the water I was halfway there. He was treading on the water with his arms out to me and I must have been staring to long because my body stopped and I was succumbed to a sea of blue.

My body fought to push to the surface but everything Conrad told me wasn’t registering. I was screaming and I felt the water fill my lungs. It was burning. I was burning.

A strong pair of arms pulled me up and my eyesight was so blurry I could barely see him. Conrad pulled me against his chest and I wrapped my arms around his figure. He was only about to be a freshman in high school but his dad had him on intense football workouts, so he was strong.

Once we got to the shore Conrad placed me on the ledge but I didn’t let go of him. I coughed some water out of my lungs and he patted my back.

“I’m really sorry. This is all my fault. I distracted you.”

“No, no. This isn’t your fault at all Conrad. I- I’m just bad at this.”

“Your perfect. Don’t say that.” He stroked my head and it wasn’t very often you would see Conrad like this. So vulnerable. Susannah said he was only like this with me and her. Laurel occasionally too.

“You.. you saved my life.”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips and he turns my head to face him, “What was I supposed to do? Let you drown?”

“Thank you.” I nuzzle my head into his shoulder but my breaths were still unorganized and all over the place. I guess almost drowning will do that to you.

“I’ll never let you drown, yn.” He whispers into my ear.

And he never has. He hasn’t let me drown in many ways, even till today.

—

Present day:

I patted the last bit of blush on Belly’s cheeks but i’m guessing most of it was from our talk about Jeremiah. She seemed to actually really like him.

“I don’t know.. I feel like he’s holding back.” She says through a raspy sigh. I gulp remembering me and Jeremiah’s talk from a couple days ago.

“Belly,” I say, nudging her arm a little bit. She looks at me with those beautiful little innocent Belly eyes.

“What?”

“Jeremiah talked to me.. he said he’s worried that you still like Conrad.”

“Oh.” She leans her head down but i’m quick to tip it back up with one of my hands to face me, “But he wants to be with you. He really does.”

“How do you know? What if it’s too late?” She whispers to me and to herself. I know this feeling, the feeling when your best friend becomes your love and your scared to loose them.

“Trust me. Jeremiah loves you. It’s pretty obvious too, Belly.” My words force a smile out of her lips and she looks around the room before inhaling. “I’m gonna get changed, okay?”

I nod and realize that I should probably get changed too. This was it- Josh would be waiting for me outside (Platonically, like he’s mentioned so many times because apparently he has a girlfriend now) and the rest of my family. Conrad would be there.

After I got changed, it was just me and Belly in the dressing room. We both grabbed our bouquets and just stared at each other for a moment. It would always be us, this summer taught me that.

We both make our way out the room and behind the stage. To say I was nervous was a fucking understatement.

Names of girls and boys got called many times before it was Belly and Jeres turn. Of course Belly wasn’t nervous- who would be nervous when Jeremiah Fisher looks at you like that? He really could make a girl feel that special, and I was proud that Belly had finally realized it.

Josh was stood behind Jeremiah and he gave me a little wave, which to I reciprocated.

“Lastly, we have yn conklin and Josh Bestford.” The lady pauses her speech and me and Josh shuffle up to the stage, the lights shining on us. Picture screens went off and I smiled like Susannah told me too.

“You look nice.” Josh says through his teeth. I nudge him a little.

“I could say the same about you.” He was a good friend, Josh. It’s not always that someone would be that nice to you after finding out you liked someone else while talking to them.

Over at our table, I could see Belly handing my mom the flowers and hugging both her and Susannah. She even hugged Conrad too. That’s when he looked at me, with those fucking blue eyes I can’t ignore. He smiled a little bit which sent me to a whole other planet. I sent a weak smile back.

After all, it was Conrad.

Josh and I made our way over to the table and I handed Susannah my flowers. Her eyes were glossy and for a moment I wondered why but I shook the feeling off. “You look beautiful, yn. My special girl.”

Tears prickled at my face but I sipped them up not wanting to ruin my makeup.

I hugged my dad and even Cleveland, who showed up as Laurels date. I waved at Conrad because I was in no shape to hug him. At all.

Now, it was time for the boys dance. Since Josh was a late addition he was stumbling on the moves a little bit but it actually made the dance so much better. Jeremiah’s head was definitely somewhere else because he stopped smiling halfway through.

Once the dance was finished, Laurel took off without explanation and Jeremiah followed suit. Belly tried to grab him but he was too quick. Too panicked. I walked over to Conrad who seemed just as confused as I was.

“What’s going on with Jeremiah? He seems disoriented.” Conrad shrugs. “I don’t know, but something’s definitely wrong with Laurel.”

I tried to recall some moments from earlier, but nothing added up. I knew something was different though. Susannah was sleeping more but Laurel always told me not to worry.

10 minutes later, the deb dance is about to start and there’s no trace of Jeremiah, or josh.

Girls start lining up and me and Belly look over at each other with only one readable expression: panic. Utter panic that every girls worse fears are coming true.

Or only mine.

Jeremiah rushes into the room with glossy eyes and ruffled hair. Susannah went to ask him what’s wrong but his only focus was being their for Belly. That’s Jeremiah for you.

My phone dings at the table and I quickly grab it to see a text from Josh.

I owe you big. My sister got admitted to the hospital for her condition and I gotta be there. I’m really sorry.

No. no. no.

I couldn’t be mad, I would probably leave too. This is just the worst timing. It’s like that dream where your in a classroom naked and everyone is laughing at you. That’s this feeling.

Belly mouths ‘where’s Josh?’ to me but the only thing I can do is shrug my shoulders. Girls begin their faint whispers and I only hope i’m dreaming.

When I turn around to go back to the table, Conrad is walking towards me. In that moment, everything slowed, and it all made sense. His eyes were glued to me and In that sole moment I existed only for him. He existed only for me. Love spilled out of my veins and onto the dress I was wearing with every step he took towards me.

He was here. He finally showed up.

From the times I almost drowned to when I was sick or stuck at sea in a storm, Conrad was the light. My light. I fell in love with him a long time ago and I can’t believe it took me this long to realize it. Accept it.

He was inches away from me and a small smile crept up on both our lips. His hand touched mine and interlaced out fingers. “I think I remember, most of the steps or something.”

I laugh a little before we both walk over to our lines. His eyes stay on mine and he nods a little. I send him a smile as well.

Out of the corner of my eye, Belly is watching. This time, it’s different. It’s not with the frustration she’s showed me this whole summer whenever I spent time with Conrad. It’s somewhere along the lines of pain, and regret. Maybe regret that she kept her feelings for Conrad in (even though it was very obvious) or maybe it was because she was watching her childhood crush be with her sister.

I couldn’t feel guilty anymore. I was done with that. My whole life, it’s always been about Belly. Being there for her, pleasing her. It was time to have something for myself, something I loved. That was the moment I knew.

I love Conrad Fisher.

And I always will. He was a part of my veins, in my veins.

He pissed me off, made me go crazy, but there’s one thing i’m sure of. That I love him. I won’t apologize for that. As i’m standing here, across the ball room looking at him, everything leading up to this moment is worth it.

The music begins and the dance starts quickly. Conrad was good at everything, which may have caused much drama in his family but ended up being great right now. He was amazing. Rusty on some steps, but still good.

I’ll never forget the way his hands touch my hips, with such force. If we’d had fallen off the tallest building, I don’t think he would’ve let go. That’s how strong his grip was on me. But then it was gentle. He held my hands so softly and offered me his warmest smile.

I was no fool, though. Sometimes the smile was hidden in a truthful ‘I wanna take your clothes off’ manner.

He spun me into his chest halfway through the dance and ran a hand down my neck, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

I roll my eyes as we separate before putting our hands up to meet each others, another dumb part of the dance. “Eyes up, Fisher.”

“I’m serious.”

“And i’m serious, too.” He only smirks before pulling me into his chest, and my gaze is locked on his. The music winds down and a wave of disappointment fills my lungs. I didn’t want this to end. Everything would then go back to normal.

Jeremiah is quick to walk away from Belly and straight over to us. His face conveys only one emotion: Anger. Anger at somebody.

“Conrad. We need to talk.”

Conrad looks around a little before turning back to Jeremiah, “What’s going on?”

“It’s- it’s about mom.”

Conrad whole tune changes and I can’t even read what’s going on. Belly scrambles over to us and mouths a ‘what’s going on’ to me but I shake my head rapidly. I don’t even know what’s happening.

Jeremiah rambles for a little about something not being right before Conrad places a hand in his chest. “It’s okay, Jere.”

That was enough for Jeres eyes to go dark, “You know?”

I throw my hands up in the hair, “I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Jeremiah ignores me and instead leans forward and punches Conrad in the face. I grab onto Belly’s arm and we look at each other in pure shock. People gasp in the crowd and on the dance floor as well.

Jeremiah keeps trying to fight Conrad but is rejected by Conrad restraining him. He doesn’t wanna fight Jeremiah, of course he doesn’t.

“What the hell is going on?” Belly whisper yells to me.

“I don’t know!” Is all I can manage to say back.

Sirens go on in my mind, but I can’t seem to think clear. What is Jeremiah so worried about? What does Conrad know? It’s about Susannah.

The sleeping in all summer, wanting this summer to be perfect.. it doesn’t make sense. None of this fucking adds up to me.

“Boys! Stop it right now!” I’m sliced out of my thoughts by Susannah yelling at the boys, to which they oblige. The anger stricken face Jeremiah Fisher once held was replaced with something that only meant horrible things: pain. Pure and utter fucking pain.

“Mom…” Jeremiah says in a shaky voice. Conrad shakes his geese repeatedly. That’s when I know it can’t be good. None of this is good. Susannah looks between her two boys with her beautiful bright eyes that now show full concern.

“We know, mom.” Know? Know what?

Susannah’s face drops, as does Laurel’s in the back. I look at Belly who has the same unrecognizable face as I do.

“What down everybody seem to know here that we don’t?” Belly motions between me and her and all the attention is on us now.

“Oh, girls.” Is all Susannah can manage to whimper out of her mouth.

—

A/N: i’m actually gonna cry you guys :( only one more chapter left. I promise you this next one will be really long, I wanna send this story out with a banggg. love you all <3

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely @allnrsnz @galaxy13sworld @paytonloiselle @i-think-you-are-gr8 @imaspecialpersonwhoneedshelp @awatt31 @user0440822 @jackierose902109 @chocolatefartstrawberry @whoisjellyellie @apollo3475

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #belly conklin #conrad x reader #team jeremiah #tsitp #love

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shadowscrybe · 2 months

Text

Rayven's Revenge- Chapter 8

Summary: Rayven is the younger sister of Rhysand in the Night Court. She was banished 64 years ago for the murder of her sister. This is the story of Rayven earning her place in Prythian and finding out what it means to be family. We all know how her story ends...but how did she get there? I don't want to forget the demon princess with bat wings. Do you?

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none-typical canon content

A/N: Azriel is so *heart eyes* HE IS MY BAT BOY. Plot is cooking guys. How we feeling?

She had asked them to wake her at dawn in case she fell asleep too late and slept in, but it turned out to be an unnecessary request seeing as she was pacing her room in the Town House before the sun had a chance to wake. She should have tried to get at least a single hour of rest, but every time her eyes closed the beating in her chest rose so loud she was sure all of Velaris could hear.

Right on cue, the short staccato knocks of the shadowsinger propelled the day in motion. Today, she either proved a formidable member of this court or slipped to the depths of failure.

Rayven made her way around all the discarded clothes and sparring bags around the room and pulled the door open to meet shadows.

“Back off,” She barked at them.

“They're only making an assessment, princess.” Azriel dressed in sparring leathers.

Rahne mingled with one of his shadows, sending messages of content.

She stepped around him into the hall to make her way down to breakfast before their meeting with the Highlord. “Call me that again,” she dared him.

Azriel did not laugh today. His eyebrows flicked up as he scanned the disheveled room behind her. “Making your own obstacle course?”

Rayven did not laugh either.

He handed her a cup of hot breakfast tea as they walked down the hall. “Good morning,” he nudged her with his shoulder.

She sipped on the creamy drink and mumbled a mornin’ back at him.

“You're up early,” he noted.

“We've got places to go, I wanted to be ready.”

“Rhys requests you join us at breakfast.”

“Requests.”

His lips formed a tight line. “He wants to talk to you before you go.”

“He’s not going?”

Azriel changed the subject as he led her down the stairs to the dining room.

“Did you sleep well?” His shadows had probably told him after their “assessment.”

She cut him a sideways look. “I slept just fine.” She recalled Rahne back and quickened her pace to reach the dining room ahead of him, but he caught her arm before the archway.

Azriel was calculated in his look-over of her attire, taking in the belts she had strapped to her thighs and torso. He was quick to reach down and adjust a belt and tighten another. Before she could chide him for the touch, he had removed himself.

“Now they won't fall off,” he smiled without condescension.

She couldn't hide her smile in return. “Thanks.”

At breakfast, Cassian was already working on his thirds by the looks of the conquered meal around him.

“You look like shit,” Cassian said with a mouth full of lemon scone.

Rayven wiped at her lip. “Got something right here.”

Cassian swiped at his face and scowled when he found nothing.

“Good,” Rhys said. “Get it out of your system before you head to the House.” He extends a hand to the setting placed across from him.

She put on a face of nonchalance as she lounged in the seat next to the shadowsinger. She stabbed a fork into a defenseless chunk of fruit and popped it into her mouth before asking the question nagging at her.

“We need to leave soon to make it in time.” She pretended to be interested in the first pastry she saw and began to pick at it. “Or are you not up for the flight, Rhys?”

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys shared a moment so quickly Rayven almost didn't catch it as it flicked across their faces.

“We need to discuss strategy,” Rhys said.

“What do you mean?” She asked around a bite of cranberry muffin. “I can handle a meeting with the Highlord.” If she could survive in the mountains she could take a verbal assault from the Highlord.

Cassian avoided her eye.

“I don't doubt your capability.” Rhys picked at his sleeves like he was already annoyed with her. “What are you going to say to him?”

“My plan was to tell him what I was trying to do. If I explain he might not be as angry. If I can play it right he might hear me out.” She looked at each of the boys, they reeked of nervousness.

“He isn't meeting with you to understand your intentions. He doesn't care. He is furious you were able to pull this without his knowledge.”

Azriel’s shoulders pulled tighter, but Rhys went on.

“I think he’s going to give you a task to perform in Spring.” Rhys waited for her to piece it together.

“Yeah, border control,” she said.

Cassian rubbed his forehead and threw his forgotten scone onto his plate. Azriel sat emotionless.

“Why didn't he explode last night?” Rhys asked.

“Because we were in mixed company. He couldn't reveal to them he’d been deceived.”

He nodded shallowly, but apparently she hadn't answered correctly. “Why praise you though? Why own it as his idea? He was going to agree to the rotations anyway. What changed?”

“I told them I’ll be in rotation with my own command.”

“He could've easily come up with a reason the other lords would believe to excuse that change of plan. Why didn't he?”

She chewed on his question for a moment. “He wants me there.”

Rhys’ eyes lit with stars. “Suddenly it's exactly as he wants.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Exactly. What are his motives for letting a female have a shift.” He nodded again. “That’s what we need to find out.”

The Highlord always had a motive under a motive. She may have fooled him this time, but he invented the art of the pivot. She was now playing by his rules.

“So I don't explain myself and play him for information.” Simple enough, right?

“You have to be careful,” Azriel spoke up. Rhys shot him a look like he wasn't supposed to say anything. “If you poke around he will sniff you out in a second.”

“Maybe we should send the spymaster.” The agitation in her tone was obvious.

Rayven didn't need to be the better daemati to know what was in her brother's head. She learned all his tricks years ago, there's nothing he can hide from her on his face.

Her short fuse was going to get in her way. She wasn't going to beat the Highlord on the battlefield of stubbornness. He was expecting that. It's probably what he wanted. To piss her off and have a reason to punish her.

Rhys saw the thoughts as they passed over her face.

“I know what I have to do.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhys!sister #azriel x rhys!sister #azriel x reader #azriel #rhysand

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sisterspooky1013 · 5 months

Text

Gaslight, Chapter 42/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

“Mommy?”

Scully startles awake, opening her eyes to find Abby standing at her bedside in the dimly lit room. The clock on the nightstand reads 6:00 am and Mulder is curled up behind her, his hand snaked up under her shirt to rest on her bare belly.

“Good morning, sweetpea,” she whispers, carefully extracting Mulder’s hand before she pulls the covers back and sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Abby looks at Mulder, and Scully can see the little gears turning in her head. “Did you get good sleep?” she asks, tucking the child’s tangled hair behind her ears.

“Peter kicked me,” Abby says flatly.

“Not much fun to share a bed with your brother, is it?” she says sympathetically, and Abby shakes her head.

“Hey,” Mulder says in a creaky baritone, and Scully turns to look at him.

His hair is sticking up in all directions, only one of his eyes cracked open. He stretches his arms up over his head and makes a little grunting sound, and she has an overwhelming urge to kiss him, which she ignores.

“Good morning,” she says, offering him a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log,” he says, returning her smile with an impish, innuendo-filled one of his own. Scully feels herself blushing and she looks away.

“What’s for breakfast?” Abby asks, and Scully sighs.

“All we have in the room is crackers, I’m afraid,” she informs Abby, who scrunches up her nose. “We can stop and get something more substantial on our way out.”

“I can go grab something,” Mulder says as he throws the covers back. Frenchie rises from her post in front of the door and wags her tail aggressively. “Right after I take French Toast for a walk. What do you like to eat for breakfast, Bunny?”

Abby smiles at his use of her new nickname, and something concurrently lovely and painful twinges in Scully’s chest.

“Chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream?” Abby says hopefully, testing the waters to see what she can get away with.

“How about a muffin?” Scully counters, and Abby shrugs.

“Sure.”

“What about Sleeping Beauty?” Mulder asks, gesturing to Peter with his chin while he slips on his shoes.

“You don’t need to do anything elaborate, Mulder. Just no strawberries; Peter’s allergic,” Scully tells him.

Mulder takes Frenchie out for a short walk, then deposits her back in the room and grabs his wallet and the keys to the van.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he says, walking purposefully towards Scully and leaning down to give her a kiss.

Scully’s eyes widen and she leans back, and Mulder freezes.

“Bye,” she says awkwardly, and he straightens up.

Abby looks between the two adults skeptically, her child’s mind able to discern that they are behaving strangely, but not yet holding the context to understand why.

“Catch you later, Bunny,” Mulder says to the child, holding up his hand in request of a high five.

Abby slaps her palm against his. “Catch you later, Fox,” she mimics.

Mulder leaves, and Scully considers Abby for a moment.

“How are you feeling today?” she asks, and Abby shrugs.

“Okay.”

“You don’t feel strange at all? Or different than you did yesterday?”

Abby shakes her head.

Scully tries to think of something she could ask to gauge the impact of removing the chip on Abby’s memory, but it’s difficult to come up with anything. Scully has no memories of her own to reference, and a six year old isn’t likely to recall the details of something that happened three months ago regardless. Perhaps that is what makes Abby’s experience different from Mulder’s or Cal’s: the long term memory of a child is already fuzzy at best.

She realizes that now would be the ideal time to tell the children about Cal, and her stomach immediately twists into knots. She doesn’t want to give them the opportunity to ask about him again, and it’s probably best that Mulder isn’t present for the conversation. While she might like to have him there to support her, to the children he’s a practical stranger.

She sends Abby to the bathroom to brush her teeth and get dressed, then sits heavily on the bed beside a still-sleeping Peter. The child jostles, but doesn’t stir, and she hauls him up off the mattress, holding him in a cradle carry like an enormous baby. His long, dark eyelashes flutter, revealing a sliver of white before falling closed again.

“Wake up, sweet boy,” she says quietly before kissing the tip of his nose.

Peter sighs, and feeling the weight of his little body in her arms, looking at the plump apples of his cheeks, she is struck with the knowledge that there was a time when his most basic needs were not met. A swell of emotion lodges itself in her throat imagining him thin and dirty, neglected and hungry. It’s unfathomable.

“Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,” she coos, dipping his head back. Peter smiles and opens his eyes. “Good morning,” she says brightly.

When the children are both dressed and Peter has mourned the fact that Blue’s Clues is not available on the motel TV, Scully sits them down on the bed they slept in, so nauseous she’s at genuine risk of vomiting. Frenchie sits beside the bed and rests her head on Scully’s thigh, and Scully gives her a few pats before shooing her away.

Though she’s given an enormous amount of thought to how to tell them this terrible news, when she looks at their innocent little faces she’s not sure she can go through with it.

“Is Daddy coming today?” Abby asks, and Scully’s throat immediately closes up. She shakes her head.

“No, sweetpea,” she says hoarsely, reaching out to take the child’s hand. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

“Where is he?” Abby asks.

Scully pulls in a breath, trying to calm her own emotions.

“Daddy got hurt very badly,” she says carefully, looking between the children’s faces. Abby’s eyebrows scrunch up, but Peter’s expression remains neutral. “His body wasn’t able to get better, and he died.”

Her voice catches on the final word, and she prays that she won’t have to repeat herself.

“Why?” Abby asks, her chin puckering.

Scully shakes her head solemnly.

“It was an accident, sweetpea. Daddy didn’t want to leave you. He loved you so much.”

“Wait a minute,” Peter says, trying to fit this information into an existing schema in his brain. “Is that like the squirrel at the park?”

“A little bit,” Scully says, giving him a sad smile.

“How’s he gonna go to work?” Pete asks.

“He’s not, sweetheart,” Scully says as a tear slips down her cheek. “He’s not coming back.”

Peter seems confused more than anything, while Abby is staring at the bedspread vacantly, her breathing shallow. Scully still has hold of her hand, and she squeezes it gently.

“Sweetpea?” she says softly, and Abby snatches her hand away.

“I want my daddy,” she says insistently, her voice quavering.

The emotional pain is so acute that Scully feels it aching in her bones. Out of nowhere, she remembers learning the news of her own father’s death. The thin warble of her mother’s voice coming through the phone, and the murmur of an infomercial on the TV. We lost your dad. He’s gone.

“I know,” she says tightly. “I wish he could be here, Abby, but he can’t. I’m sorry.”

She reaches out to comfort her and Abby stiffens, twisting her body out of Scully’s reach.

The door handle turns, and the three of them look as Mulder enters, along with a blast of sunlight. Abby springs out of the bed and runs toward the door, and Scully scrambles after her.

“Abby, no!” she yells, too loudly, just before the child crashes into Mulder, wrapping her arms around his hips and letting out a sob.

Mulder looks up at Scully helplessly, a takeout box in each of his hands, and she feels herself unraveling.

“Daddy’s dead,” Peter informs him.

Mulder turns to set the takeout boxes on the table, then pries Abby loose and picks her up. Her arms go around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he rubs his palm over her back, murmuring platitudes. The raw grief in Abby’s wailing makes Scully wish that she had died instead.

“I got pancakes,” Mulder says sadly, and Scully escapes to the bathroom.

It’s an oppressively hot day, which does nothing for Scully’s mood. Even with the air conditioning in the van on full blast she’s sweaty and irritable, and she feels guilty that Mulder is stuck trying to placate both her and the grieving child who won’t so much as look at her.

“Try not to take it personally,” he’d counseled her when they stopped to use the bathroom near Toledo. “Kids handle loss differently than adults do. She’s likely just associating you with it because you had to deliver the news. She’ll come around.”

Peter seems wholly unaffected, which makes her feel both relieved and sad. They stop every few hours to stretch their legs and walk Frenchie, Mulder and Scully driving in shifts. As they near Chicago, Peter lets out an exasperated sigh.

“This is too boring!” he complains. “When are we gonna get there?”

“Where are we going anyway?” Abby comments despondently, her eyes cast out the window.

Scully twists in her seat to look at them.

“We’re going to Canada,” she says, her tone falsely upbeat. “We get to live in a house by a lake. You can go swimming.”

“I wanna go swimming!” Peter says emphatically, wriggling in his seat.

“We won’t be there for a few more days,” Scully informs him, and he lets out a disappointed groan.

“We’re going to pass right by Lake Michigan,” Mulder says quietly. “We can stop for an hour or two.”

Scully gives him a long look.

“Is that a good idea?” she asks nervously.

“We can’t expect them to sit still in the car all day,” he counters.

Scully looks back to the children. They’ve already been driving for over five hours, and it’s barely afternoon.

“Would you like to go swimming, sweetpea?” she asks, and Abby looks at her for the first time since Akron.

“Today?”

“Yep,” Scully says with a smile.

Abby smiles and Peter whoops, and Scully looks back to Mulder, feeling grateful.

“There’s just one thing we have to talk about before we can go swimming,” he says loudly so the kids can hear him. “Do you know what a spy is?”

“I saw Harriet the Spy,” Abby informs him.

“Great,” Mulder says. “Do you think you can pretend to be a spy for the rest of our trip?”

“I probably need a notebook,” Abby says.

“We can get you a notebook,” Mulder says. “What about you, Bear, can you pretend to be a spy with us?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Peter says plainly, and Mulder laughs.

“To be a spy you have to pretend you’re someone else,” he explains. “We’ll use pretend names so nobody knows who we really are.”

“Is it a disguise?” Peter asks.

“Kind of,” Mulder says. “But just a disguise for your name. Your spy name is Justin, or we can also call you Bear, your animal name.”

“What’s my disguise name?” Abby asks.

“Your spy name is Amanda,” Mulder tells her. “Or Bunny is okay too.”

“Amanda,” Abby repeats, sitting back.

“It’s okay to call your mom Mommy,” Mulder continues. “But you can’t call me Fox while we’re being spies. My spy name is Stephen, okay?”

The children nod, and Scully reaches over the console and squeezes Mulder’s thigh briefly. He glances at her, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “You’re really good with them.”

Mulder smiles sheepishly, and she detects a hint of pink on his cheeks.

They stop just before crossing the border into Illinois to buy swimsuits and several changes of clothes, as well as sunscreen and dog food. Mulder holds up a microscopic bikini and wags his eyebrows at Scully, and she shakes her head with a wry smile. By the time they make it to the register there are also beach towels, sunglasses, and two little plastic buckets with matching plastic shovels thrown into the cart, and twenty minutes later they are parking near a sandy beach the color of Frenchie’s fur. The white surf capping the waves and the absence of a visible landmass on the horizon give the impression that they are looking at the ocean, and Scully pulls in a deep breath, relaxing a little for the first time in days.

The beach is not very populated in the middle of a weekday, which gives them a sizable slice of the shore to themselves. The children set up near the water’s edge and begin digging a network of holes in the sand while Mulder and Scully sit a few yards away and supervise. Mulder allows Frenchie off her leash and she moves back and forth between the children and the adults, supervising in her own right. Abby has progressed from shrieking anytime Frenchie comes within arm’s reach of her to simply ignoring the dog altogether, and Scully is grateful for one less thing to worry about.

The strong breeze coming off the water makes the heat much more tolerable, and the sounds of screeching gulls and the hush of the waves are like a lullaby. Scully yawns, and Mulder reaches over and rubs his hand over her back.

“You should take a nap,” he says, and she closes her eyes briefly, savoring his touch.

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” she says, opening her eyes. “I worry about the kids near the water.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” he tells her, and she smiles warmly.

“I know you would,” she says, scooting just a little closer to him on the towel. “But I’d still worry.” She watches the children for a few minutes as they run to the edge of the water and fill their buckets, then race back to the sizable hole they are attempting to make into a bathtub. “I remember when I was a child, my father would always tell my mother not to worry about us. ‘You worry over those kids too much, Maggie, just sit down and relax for once.’ And she would tell him that it’s a mother’s job to worry. I think I finally understand what she meant.”

“I don’t think my mother worried too much over me,” Mulder says without much affect, and Scully looks over at him.

There’s two days worth of stubble on his cheeks, though he looks more well rested than he has since they reunited. His bare torso is already bronzing under the sun, and his hair is just this side of shaggy, giving him somewhat of a beach bum appearance. She glances at the children, who are completely absorbed in their bathtub project, and then reaches up and touches Mulder’s cheek. He turns his head and she kisses him, seemingly catching him off guard by the little surprised sound he makes. But he kisses her back, and when she goes to pull away he kisses her again, and it feels so good to kiss him with her toes in warm sand and ocean sounds filling her ears, and the knowledge that her children are safe.

“Mommy, look!”

They break their kiss and turn to look at the children, who are standing knee-deep in the hole they dug, beaming. You’d never guess that they learned about their father’s death mere hours ago.

After a couple hours in the hot sun, the children are sufficiently worn out for the second leg of the drive, and they do their best to brush the sand off everyone before piling back into the van and continuing on towards Wisconsin. Abby and Peter both fall asleep quickly, and Mulder kisses the tips of Scully’s fingers while she drives, whispering about a recently-recalled memory wherein they visited a beach in California, then spent the evening making love in a well appointed hotel room. Scully glances in the rear view mirror to confirm they don’t have an audience before filling in the missing details, including a disastrous movie premier and a shared bubble bath, and the rug burn on her knees that didn’t fade for weeks. They arrive in Wisconsin Dells around dinnertime and stop at a gas station for supplies before they find a motel for the night.

“Okay, super spies, remember to use spy names only,” Mulder says, meeting the children’s eyes for emphasis. They both nod gravely, taking their assignment as spies very seriously.

Inside the gas station market, a bored looking teenager sits behind the counter reading a book while the evening news runs on a TV hung from the ceiling overhead. Scully shakes her head as Mulder buys the children corn dogs and potato wedges, and a myriad of other junk food that she hopes they won’t expect to be a part of their continued diet after they get settled in Canada.

Peter finds a display of little water guns, and he turns toward Mulder, his mouth opening and closing like a hungry fish as he tries to recall Mulder’s spy name.

“Um…um…,” he struggles, his eyes scanning the ceiling for the answer. “Daddy,” he finally says, and Mulder slowly turns to look at him.

“Yeah, Bear?” Mulder asks, giving Scully an uncomfortable glance.

Scully looks at Abby, who is watching the exchange curiously.

“Can I get one of these?” Peter asks, holding up a yellow squirt gun.

“I don’t think so,” Mulder says, patting the child’s head. “Maybe another time.”

Peter moves on, and Scully approaches Abby, who appears to be deep in thought.

“You okay, sweetpea?” she asks cautiously, afraid that the child might shut her out again.

Abby slowly looks up at her, slightly dazed.

“Is Fox our daddy?” she asks, her eyebrows pushed together.

Scully is unable to conceal her surprise at the question. Could Abby have forgotten Cal so quickly? It makes her both sad and hopeful to consider the possibility.

“Would you like him to be?” Scully asks, and Abby looks beyond her distractedly.

Suddenly Abby’s expression changes, a bemused smile quirking the corner of her mouth.

“How did you get on TV, Mommy?” she says, and Scully follows her eyes to the TV behind the counter.

A flash of fear makes adrenaline ring in Scully’s ears when she sees her own face displayed on the grainy screen, and then Mulder’s alongside it.

“Mu—Stephen,” she says quietly, too shell-shocked to yell, and Abby pokes her head into the next aisle to find him.

“Daddy,” she calls out, as though she’s addressed him as such a hundred times. “Mommy needs you.”

She feels Mulder’s presence beside her as her eyes stay glued to the TV.

Two Children Kidnapped In Washington DC the chyron reads, and the screen changes from side-by-side photos of Mulder and Scully to a picture of a smiling Abby and Peter. Scully’s heart is pounding in her ears, and she looks down to the clerk sitting right beneath the TV, relieved to see that they are paying it no attention.

The picture of the children is then replaced with a video of Diana standing behind a lectern swiping tears from her eyes. Scully steps closer so she can read the captions running across the bottom of the screen, her stomach in knots.

…taken by my husband and his mistress right from our home. Jeff, I beg of you, please don’t hurt our babies. Please bring them home safely. They’re all I have.

Mulder touches her arm, and she looks up at him. His jaw is set in anger, his gaze intense.

“We need to change our appearance,” he says, and she nods absently, unable to think. “I saw some hair dye over there,” he tells her, gesturing with his head, and slowly her mind begins to get back on the rails.

“Okay,” she says, visually scanning the small market. She spots a rack full of souvenir trucker hats. “You and Bear can wear hats,” she says, and Mulder nods.

They corral the children, speaking in low tones so as not to draw any additional attention. Scully selects two boxes of blonde hair dye, and Mulder lets Peter pick out a hat with a rainbow on it. They pile all their purchases, plus the corn dogs and the potato wedges, on the counter and steal glances at the continuing news story on the screen while the teenage clerk obliviously rings them up.

“D’you need a bag?” they ask flatly, and Scully forces herself not to look at the faked photo of Diana embracing her children as she answers yes.

The bell above the door rings, announcing the arrival of new customers, and Mulder and Scully carefully keep their backs turned. Peter pokes Abby in the ribs and she swats him.

“Stop it, Pete!” she hollers, and Scully grabs Peter by the shoulders, ushering him into the small space between her body and the counter.

Mulder hands a twenty dollar bill to the clerk, and the other customers step up in line behind them as the clerk makes change.

“Oh my gosh, that’s awful,” a woman’s voice says emphatically, and the clerk stops and twists their neck up awkwardly to look at the screen.

“Oh damn,” the clerk says, and Scully feels like she can’t breathe. She stares at the countertop, waiting for the moment of recognition.

“It’s okay,” Mulder whispers, and she looks over at him. He flashes his eyes to the screen, and she looks up to find that the images of Diana and the children are gone, and the chyron now reads Three Confirmed Dead in Dells Boat Tour Accident.

That night, Scully is unable to sleep. She thinks back over every place they’ve stopped since leaving Maryland, every person they’ve interacted with who might have later recognized their faces on the evening news. Will Diana learn that they were just in Indiana? Will the McDonald’s drive thru worker in Akron remember the family of four who argued about milkshakes? Should they veer off their intended path for the remainder of the trip?

She can smell the developer still clinging to her hair, which is now dirty blonde. Abby’s natural hair color made hers turn out a bit darker, almost brown, but still different enough from their typical appearance not to be recognized at first glance. Mulder’s coloring is close enough to Peter’s that they don’t look conspicuous; the children could easily belong to them biologically. Still, knowing that they might be recognized puts a pit of worry in her gut, a nagging feeling of impending doom.

Mulder sighs next to her, and she rolls to her side to face him in the dark.

“Are you awake?” she whispers, and he turns on his side as well, his nose inches from hers.

“I hate her, Scully,” he says, shame in his voice.

“Rightfully, I’d say,” she tells him, resting her palm on his hip.

“I keep thinking,” he says, his breath warm and familiar against her cheeks, “if I’d believed you sooner, we would have been long gone before they ever found us at the safehouse.”

“Don’t do that,” she says. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know. I just keep thinking about everything. How it could have been different.”

Scully sighs and scoots closer, kissing him and then tucking her head under his chin. She feels safe, for the moment, wrapped up in his arms. Sleep suddenly feels like a possibility.

Frenchie stands up and whines, and Mulder rolls to his back.

“What is it, French?” he asks.

Frenchie whines again, her tail tucked and twitching nervously. On the other side of the room, Abby lets loose a blood-curdling scream.

Scully is out of the bed in an instant, feeling around in the dark to locate Abby’s flailing arms.

“No, no, nooooo!!!!” Abby yells, hitting and scratching Scully’s forearms, pushing her away. “Stop, Mommy, please!”

A light comes on, and Scully can now see Peter sitting on her and Mulder’s bed, confused and gape-mouthed, and Mulder standing beside him.

“She’s dreaming,” Mulder says, coming around to where Scully is unsuccessfully trying to bring Abby back to reality.

Abby’s eyes are open, but it’s clear that whatever she is seeing is in her mind. She doesn’t look at Scully, but through her, her nostrils flaring and her mouth contorted in agony.

“Mommy don’t,” the child wails, her arms held out in front of her defensively. “I’m sorry. Please don’t.”

Scully looks at Mulder helplessly.

“Do you think it’s my hair?” she asks, and Mulder shakes his head with a shrug.

“Turn the lamp off, Bear,” Mulder directs Peter, who does as he’s told.

The room plunges back into darkness, and Abby’s protestations subside into whimpers.

“Hey, Bunny,” Mulder says, his voice indicating that he’s moved to the head of the bed. “It’s okay, you’re safe in your bed. I’m here with you.”

“Daddy?” Abby warbles, and Mulder hesitates only a moment.

“Yes, I’m right here. You’re safe,” he says softly.

“Don’t leave me,” Abby says, her voice so tiny and afraid that it brings tears to Scully’s eyes.

“I won’t leave you,” Mulder assures her. “I’m right here.”

Abby continues to cry for a few minutes and then falls back asleep, her arms wound tightly around Mulder’s neck. Scully feels her way back to the other bed where she finds that Peter has already laid down on her pillow, so she takes Mulder’s side instead. Abby wakes again around 3:00 am, this time settling quickly when she hears Mulder’s voice beside her.

Scully needs to keep her children safe, and she’s so afraid that she’ll fail. She sleeps fitfully, dreaming of Emily and a little boy with glasses whose name she can’t recall.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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majestyeverlasting · 1 year

Text

Requested From My Prompt List:

Cold Little Paws - In favor of not waking you up one morning, Bucky leaves the bedroom to take a phone call. And it gives you a temporary scare when you wake up and he isn't by your side.

No Such Thing as Winning by Default Tonight - One evening during a play fight, Bucky learns that his little family sure does have a few tricks up their sleeves.

As Long as It's With You - There’s nothing like summer in the city.

I Can Feel It Too - You and Bucky travel down to Delacroix, Louisiana to meet up with Sam, Sarah, and the boys at a nice vacation rental on the lake.

Remember the Good Parts - You and Bucky attend a banquet in Washington D.C., but it isn’t until afterwards that things take a peculiar turn as the result of a forgotten tube of lipstick.

Till Dawn - Bucky and Eden have the house to themselves because you and Jamie are away for the night. Let's just say bedtime gets pushed back.

All I Ever Wanted - You and Bucky visit a park in Brooklyn that stirs up some nostalgic memories. But what he doesn’t know is that, later that night, he’ll learn that he’s going to be a father.

As Many as You Want - You and Bucky spend your first night together after a few weeks apart, and you realize how much you’ve missed each other’s closeness.

What Comes Naturally - Your doubts lead you and Bucky to explore the idea of what it means to add value to the world.

Mornings Like These - Just another morning at the Barnes residence.

In Your Arms - Unvoiced feelings come to the surface, and neither you or Bucky can deny how right it feels.

Once More - You accompany Bucky on an assignment in Germany, and the two of you take advantage of the special housing arrangement you're given on a private portion of the beach.

Brighter Than We Know - Fairy lights, caresses, and kisses while under a sky full of stars.

Then Came the Sun - You and Bucky spend the night together for the first time.

We’ll Always Have Tonight - Sometimes all the soul needs is a night to be cuddled by the campfire with family.

You’re Always What I Need - There’s nothing quite like a new place to call home. After the kitchen is organized just the way you like it, you begin to notice small changes within the following days.

Those Who Long for the Night - Neon lights, epiphanies, and love after dark. It is Madripoor, after all.

To Be Still - You kissed him because you didn’t know what else to say. He smiled into it, and you pulled away just enough to murmur against his upturned lips, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

For Funsies:

Pieces of Us - You come home on a Saturday afternoon to jazz in the air. And it isn’t long before your new manicure catches Bucky’s attention.

These Hands Are For You - The raking of leaves, muffins, and baby kicks on a fall afternoon.

Whispers Amid Candlelight - After a long day, Bucky is more than willing to ensure that you de-stress and have a proper send off to bed.

We’re Gonna Be Okay - It’s Bucky’s first night back from a two-month-long mission. The two of you spend it enjoying each other's company.

What Happens in the Dark - You and Bucky are awakened to the fact that what lies between you is transcendent of the bounds of friendship.

Hang in There, Super Soldier - The main festivities of Halloween night have dwindled, yet the fun lives on.

Always Back to You - After coming home a little roughed up, Bucky seeks forgiveness for not being candid about a mission in D.C. But all you truly care about is the fact that he made his way back to you.

I Felt It in My Bones - Snowflakes fall from a darkening sky as you and Bucky reminisce about moments that made you feel alive.

Everyone I Love's in This Place - There are some places that always manage to feel like home. And after spending time with the Wilson family and their friends in Delacroix, you can safely say that the community is one of them.

Irresistible You - Gingerbread houses are sweet, but kisses shared with Bucky are always sweeter.

A Warmth That Never Fades - Love, family, and Christmas Day.

Something Like Forever - Bucky spends the night at your place for the first time, and learns about something special that you’ve held on to since you were young.

Right Where You Are - You started out as a curious pair of eyes across a crowded room. And at a time when Bucky isn’t looking for love, he grows to find it in you.

A Little Less Restless - As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things. And, most of all, that he deserves you.

Drabble Requests:

Never the Same - Things are never going to be the same, but perhaps you saw it coming all along.

I've Got You - Life's always sweeter when you're by each other's side.

Never For To Long - In the heat of the moment, Bucky says something to you that he doesn't mean, and after a period of reflection he's set on making things right.

Belonging - Like a moth drawn to a flame, you pressed yourself even closer to his body, situating your arms around his neck yet again. This time, you rested your chin on his shoulder and closed your eyes. A little taste of forever.

Count of Three - “I’m staying here, and I’m not moving. I don’t care about your empty threats! Hey—wait—what are you doing?”

The World Won’t Fall Apart - After a lifetime of running to fight after fight, Bucky is learning what it means to be at ease.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #dad bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x fem reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n

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michelleleewise · 1 year

Text

Worthy

Pairing: Dark!Thor x female reader

Warnings: dark themes ahead! 18+ only, drugging, abduction, forced imprisonment, coercion, manipulation, power imbalance, swearing, forced restraint, mild violence (not grapic), if I missed anything please let me know!!!

Summary: you wake up and try to figure out what happened.

A/n- I pictured the room from "Split" in my mind here lol I hope it makes sense. Please heed the warnings!! And thank you my dear @mochie85 for letting me brainstorm my crazy with you and sharing ideas!! And that white dress....😏 your amazing and I appreciate you so much!! ❤️🥰❤️🥰

Part Four--Part Five-

Your mind felt sluggish, your thoughts swirling through a dark abyss as you felt yours senses slowly returning. "I will make sure nothing happens to you again muffin." The words echo through your consciousness, the feeling of hands on your skin, warm breath on your neck sending a shiver through you. "I'll take good care of you." You groaned, rolling to your side feeling the soft pillow beneath you making you sigh. When did I go to sleep? You thought, your fingers slowly running up the soft blanket remembering the fight with Shaun...coffee with Maya...

"Thor!" You yelled, your eyes shooting open meeting a bright white wall. You sat up as your vision swam, closing your eyes trying to center yourself through the throbbing behind them. You slowly opened them again, seeing three more white walls and a large metal door across the room. "What the.." you started, looking down seeing you were now dressed in a very short very white dress, thin spaghetti straps holding it up when you realized you didn't have a bra on underneath. You wrapped your arms over your chest, shifting to the end of the bed your eyes went wide realizing your underwear was missing too.

You slowly stood up, trying not to tip over feeling the dress landing just past your cheeks, barely covering anything. "H..hello!" Your voice hoarse and cracked trying to figure out what was happening, your feet freezing on the concrete floor as you looked around seeing the only thing in the room was the bed, draped in a crimson red duvet with white and red pillows. You saw a door off to the side, quickly walking to it your heart sank flipping the light on seeing a toilet and bathtub, a tall sink sat between them. All in pristine condition as though they had never been used, a single rose laying across the back of the toilet making you shudder. "W..where am i?" You asked outloud stepping back into the other room.

You quickly walked to the metal door, your hand hovering over the knob, closing your eyes you willed it to open as you gripped it, your heart sinking when it didn't budge. Panic set in as the realization hit you...your trapped, locked away and your aren't getting out. Your hands balled into fists as you banged them against the door. "Help! Someone help me! Please!" You screamed as loud as you could through your dry throat. Tears pooling in your eyes as your hands ached with each hit. Why did he bring you here...what does he want with you...you aren't special...your thoughts a whirlwind when you heard a click.

You took a step back, hearing the lock on the door whirl and unlatch, the door slowly swinging open. Tears streaming down your face when you saw the tall figure step in "muffin, are you alright?" He asked. You blinked away the tears, stepping back you knees hit the bed "w..why! Why are you doing this!?" You yelled, covering your chest with your arms. You watched him close the door with his foot as he carried a tray over to the bed, you nearly stumbled quickly shifting away from him watching him set it down "I told you my dear, I am going to take care of you." He said straightening up, a smile on his face as he slid a set of keys into his pocket. "And the first thing is making sure you eat right." He finished, pointing to the tray.

"Let me go..please! I..I won't say anything I promise." You pleaded, taking a step towards the door "muffin please, come eat." He said crossing his arms. "I dont want to eat, I want to go home!" You said, tears filling your eyes again taking another small step towards the door. "Oh dear, you are home." He said taking a step towards you he reached a hand out, stepping back you felt his fingers brush across your shoulder "no, I'm not! Let me go home!" You yelled seeing his smile drop "if you are speaking of that miniscule apartment you had, you have been released from it." He said, a stern expression on his face.

"W..what do you.." he cut you off "I informed the landlord you no longer required the accommodation, I turned your keys in this morning." He said taking a step towards you. "And as for your things, they have been placed in storage for the time being." He said "now, do as I ask and please eat your breakfast." He said, the smile returning as he again stalked closer towering over you "I was right..that dress looks exquisite on you my dear." He cooed, his fingers reaching out brushing along the strap, the heat from his large hand making you shiver "so beautiful, so...pure." he whispered, his fingers traveling down brushing the top of your breast, your breath hitched at the feeling "and so sensitive to my touch...I cannot wait until we are one." He continued, his eyes meeting yours

"I can make you happy y/n." He said shifting forward, his hand sliding down your side as he pressed his chest to yours. "I can satisfy you as no one else can." He cooed, stiffening feeling his hand pressing to your lower back. He leaned down, a shudder running through you feeling his warm breath on your neck "let me take care of you muffin, let me show you how worthy you are." He whispered, digging your nails into your palms feeling him place a kiss on you neck. You quickly turned, twisting out of his grip as your shoulder hit the wall "muffin?" He asked watching you "don't call me that you psycho!" You yelled sliding along the wall. "Now, there's no need for be rude." He patronized, as he followed close behind you

"leave..me..alone!" You growled, running towards the bed you scurried across, the duvet falling to the floor as you ran for the door, your fingertips grazing the metal as a large arm wrapped around your middle lifting you up. "Let me go!" You yelled, flailing your arms and legs as hard as you could to free yourself from his iron grip "muffin you really must calm down, this stress isn't good for you." He said stenrly walking back towards the bed. You threw your head back trying your hardest to connect with his nose but he dodged you as you kicked your legs back hitting his shins. "You are going to hurt yourself." He said sitting on the bed holding you to his chest.

You reached back, trying to claw at him as your fingers gripped his glasses, ripping them off you threw them across the room watching them break apart when he grabbed your wrists, wrestling them down to your lap. "P..please.." you pleaded hearing him sigh "just relax, everything will be just fine." He cooed in your ear as his arm stretched across your chest holding your arms down. You stiffened feeling him reaching into his pocket, you glanced over seeing a needle making your heart race "no no no...please!" You pleaded, struggling to free yourself form his grip "shh..this will help you relax muffin." He whispered, pressing his cheek to yours, the stubble on his chin rubbing against your shoulder as be brought the needle to his lips pulling the plastic cover off.

Holding it between his teeth he smiled at you "t..thor..please..dont.." you trailed off feeling a pinch in your upper arm. Screwing your eyes shut you hissed feeling the liquid traveling into you. "See, all done. That wasn't so bad was it?" He asked putting the cap back on the needle he placed a gentle kiss where the shot was before running his hand up and down your arm. You opened your eyes, staring at the wall feeling your limbs getting heavy. "Everything is going to be just fine love." He purred, shivering feeling his lips on your neck. He shifted you to the side, his arm gripping under your legs he picked you up genlty laying you on the bed. "I have to go for work now muffin, I want to see that food gone when return." He said sternly picking the duvet up off the floor laying it over you.

He tucked it around your shoulders, leaning down pressing a kiss to your forehead "sleep well love, I will see you soon." He said cupping your cheek as a tear slid across your face into your hair, feeling his thumb wipe it away "so beautiful." He whispered, standing up you watched him walk across the room picking up his glasses as your eyelids drooped, your vision blurring as he opened the door looking back at you he turned the light off slowly shutting the door behind him enveloping you in darkness. Hearing the clink of the lock you felt the weight of everything hit you as you quietly sobbed. "Help.." you whispered, but no one could hear you..no one was coming for you....

@springdandelixn @mochie85 @chemtrails-club @slytherclaw1227 @irishhappiness @kats72 @prettysourabbie @siriusly--gay @friendlyneighbourhoodgothicpagan @haidim84 @presidentlokis-hornyhelmet @silverfire475 @chaotic-cinnamonroll95 @gay-punk-redneck

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