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4dtk · 2 years

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ೃ⁀➷ sk8er boi!

a/n: skater geto teaching u how to skate! 🫶🏼 i wanna make this a series so bad, how they met, y/n meeting geto’s friends, maybe even smut… at the skate park… ehe. mainly it was this on twt who made me wanna write this!!!

word count: 1.4k

“lookie there,” you feel a nudge from your side from your friend before looking up at the group of skaters that walk past. and amongst them, you can pick out their oversized t-shirts and baggy pants that never seem to show their actual physique, along with their skateboards tucked snugly under their arms.

“you got over your crush yet?” another friend cuts in, eyeing them with a scowl on her face as they walk past and you resist the urge to say that you’re dating one of them. as far as you know, their reputation precedes them and they’ve been nothing but “trouble” — but you’ll believe it when you see it.

“shut up,” you laugh, nudging her back before geto catches your eye. he tries not to give you a little wave, the ones he gives you when you’re safely home from across the road and the ones when he’s chucking rocks at your window. “and they’re not all bad, you know.”

“just because you had a term with geto suguru to work on a project doesn’t change my mind.”

and you don’t blame her, either, especially with how shitty last year’s seniors were. naoya, mahito, jogo — they were pieces of shit that thought messing up the school, disrupting class and moaning at the back of the assembly hall was fun, and thank god they were gone. stigma does tend to remain, though.

walking felt like ages — out of campus, into the courtyard — something that you were wishing didn’t take up so much time, “well, this is where we part. see you guys tomorrow!” hugging your friends, you eye geto and his friends try to look uninterested, obviously waiting for your friends to leave for good. gojo trips over something and you giggle, almost caught red-handed when your friend pulls away from the embrace.

“what are you giggling at?”

you swallow, struggling to hold eye contact, “nothing! just thought of something funny, haha, s’all.”

“okay…” inwardly sighing, you see that she doesn’t suspect a thing, while your other friend didn’t exactly care about your little slip-up. “is dinner still on tomorrow?”

you can faintly see suguru groaning and complaining and this time you bite your lip to suppress another laugh, nodding furiously to the question before they walk in the opposite direction. you’re thankful they live in the same area. finally, they’re gone for good, but you wait for them to be out of sight for a minute before you’re waving your boyfriend and his friends over.

“(y/n), when are you gonna tell your friends? you know that i can’t keep my mouth shut for long—” gojo gets a smack on his back by choso, the three share laughter, and it usually goes like this (even with gojo trying his best to keep your secret under wraps), but the thing that always manages to surprise you is how geto greets you. sometimes, he brings flowers. other times, he twirls you around if he’s excited, and maybe if he’s feeling tame, he settles for a peck on the cheek or temple or lips. safe to say, geto suguru is obsessed with you.

“hey,” geto grins, smoothly bringing you in with an arm while the other carries his skateboard, “ready to go?” you’re about to answer him when his friends cut in noisily (how your friends don’t hear him is beyond you) and you think they’re going to shout something insulting like the boys you see in movies — even when they’ve shown how much they love you as geto’s girlfriend.

“make sure geto doesn’t fall off his skateboard!” choso bursts into laughter at gojo’s statement, “have fun, you lovebirds.”

suguru gives them the finger and tells them to piss off, but you just giggle at their quips as they head off to a fast-food restaurant. your boyfriend only adores the interaction from afar; when you turn to face him again, his eyebrow is raised and a little smile forms and you have to look at his chest to avoid his piercing stare.

“you’re too cute,” he notes nonchalantly, and today, he’s quiet and silently loving, pressing a quick peck to your cheek. “how’s your friends?”

you sigh, brushing geto’s signature bangs out of his face, “not coming ‘round. they’re convinced all skater boys are devils.”

“it’s alright, i don’t blame them. our seniors were crap.” geto swiftly takes your hand in his, ignoring the tingly feeling when you interlace his fingers with yours. “ever since the incident, they’ve been kicked out and banned from the skate park, so it’s good we don’t interact with them even after they’ve graduated.”

“yeah, it’s great.”

“it is?” the smile geto gives you is teasing, “you’re great too.”

you roll your eyes, but don’t deny the heat on your cheeks. “yeah, yeah, whatever. let’s just go.”

you love geto, you do, but sometimes, you shouldn’t let him talk you into things — as excited as you were for this day, thinking of riding on a skateboard and actually being on it were two different things.

“baby, if it helps, maybe you could keep your arms out,” geto shouts from across the skate park, being extremely optimistic after seeing you balance on it. moving was another story though.

“i just— can’t, i always feel like falling!” you shout back, landing on a leg to stop the slow moving skateboard (if it was even really moving). even holding out your arms didn’t work, the familiar beat of your heart always speeding up when you feel like you’re going to fall.

“maybe i’m not ready yet.”

the other frowns, jogging over, “no, maybe we’re taking it too fast. c’mon, up you go.”

he ushers you back onto the board, clutching tightly onto your hands like a toddler on their first steps. it made you look stupid, heck, you feel stupid, but geto only offers a soft smile, placing kisses on both hands.

“maybe i should’ve guided you with my hands. or would you rather we…” he grins, moving his hands to your waist and you shriek, immediately grabbing hold of his forearms, “slow dance style.”

loud laughter escapes you, so distracted and focused on his face that you don’t even notice geto dragging you along until you’ve completed a small distance. the ride feels easy enough, and soon he takes his hands off your waist with a grin.

“that’s my darlin’!”

“huh?”

his laughter is like sunshine and rain and everything you like, his jet black hair blowing in the soft breeze.

“you’re moving, baby!”

“shit, am i?” your legs aren’t wobbling any more, nor do your feet feel heavy. you’re able to stop the skateboard and start, albeit slowly, but you’re still able to get somewhere without any help. “i am! su, look!”

“i am looking,” geto’s laughter subsides into a smile, pleasantly surprised when the board vanishes below you and you’re taken up into the air suddenly. you’re flying in his arms, face inches from his while you’re holding tightly to make sure you don’t slip. “and she is looking stunning as always.” heat creeps up your neck to your face, and you’re glad you can blame it on the sun at least.

“you’re not looking so bad yourself, skater boy,” even on the skateboard, it’s difficult to reach his height, but you love it anyway: dangly arms around his frame, body weight supported effortlessly by the skater.

“i’ll teach you how to do an ollie next,” geto knows it’s far from your intended to-do list today, so he kisses you, geto suguru kisses you to (partially) distract you, swallowing your surprise, but he also kisses you because he likes (loves) it. he has you wrapped up in his arms, sweating to the bone from the scorching rays and the rush of adrenaline through his veins, and you unknowingly untangle his hair from those chains of his.

“i’m going to die attempting an ollie,” you giggle, breath mixing with his after the heated kiss.

“or we could just kiss, instead, princess.”

one day. one day you’ll tell your friends and you’ll receive the brunt of their disapproval, but here in this old skate park, you’re willing to miss a few hours of studying to be with your skater, lover boy.

sigh. when will a broody skater boy who acts all tough and bad but is actually all soft for his girl gonna come along

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #geto suguru imagines #geto x reader #geto imagines #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #geto drabbles #jjk #getou x you

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sadevergreen · 9 months

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as a camp counselor (technically not currently bc i went home for Illness) and homestuck fan (also technically not currently bc I'm too busy being a camp counselor) i love camp skaia. which homestuck characters are most likely to be the "we're ALL sick there's no reason you can't do the hike up the hill" (has mild cold and vague heatsickness at worst) counselor x "actual lung infection but thinks it's a really normal cold" (very easily gaslit) counselor program group pair? i feel like eridan and kanaya are hot contenders here

ooo ok this is so good- apologies for the ever loving hell that you are about to see but i sought assistance from my dear dear pale friend @marv3l-drag0ns !!!!!!!! MUAH PLATONICALLLY <> ILY they were a huge help in putting this together

BOY DO I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ON THIS, THIS WAS EXTREMELY FUN :D

so let’s begin: my immediate instinct was kanaya and tavros are the most easily gaslit, or adhere most to given direction (we’re not going to talk about HIM). but then who to pair them with? they are both wet cats that won’t work. we decided that YES kanaya and eridan definitely make sense! but in which role? it may seem obvious but NO! eridan too sick? whiny fussy pitiful sopping kitty he’s just a beanbag full of milk! so we decided barely sick eridan, otherwise he’d be throwing a fit. instead he’s referring to his Superior Genes! and kanaya is. strugglin. but fuck man here we are 🤷‍♂️

But we’re not done yet!

the next we considered was karkat and terezi!! especially aided through the lens of karkat’s old crush on terezi; he’s too whipped and in denial to deny a girl a hand!

this led to possibly the funniest thing ever: THE INNER KANKRI THAT EVERYONE HAS AND HE SITS ON YOUR SHOULDER AND REMINDS YOU TO BE DECENT AND LEAVE ROOM FOR KANKRI

for the bigger drawings i capped it off with a good ol favorite of mine; erifef. why did i like them? man idek anymore but it worked really well with the idea of eridan being the sicker one, but being ok such thin ice over his constant whining that he just has to go along with it we just though it was funny hehe. it can be viewed through any lens! snippy or non, s’all good here! it’s all canon.

what is he was sick and he couldn’t whine 🥺 what is he was sick and he wasn’t allowed even a snivle about it 🥺 not a snort 🥺 or a sob 🥺 he’s so pathetic !!!! besides, he can’t be out paced by some fuckin kids!!!! HES A GROWN ADULT 16-18 Y/O CAMP COUNSELOR GODDAMNIT!!

MARVEL: “Feferi: ah yes your sickness you have a functioning immune system and are the most dramatic guy on planet earth (only one of those statements is true)” which statement? :) yeah

she doesn’t believe him anymore <333

Ok and that is it for full line art doodles, but!!! i couldn’t resist drawing some more pairs we pondered

ERIDAN AND KARKAT: omfg so good!! but they would 100% either both be tooooo sick and dead, or they would both be mostly fine

VRISKA AND TAVROS: no. and you know why we’re not doing this one :,( we all instantly knew this one would be here but we are choosing to ignore it im favor of…

TAVROS AND KARKAT: Marvel proposed it and it was very interesting!! i think similar to eridan and karkat, where they’re both dead or both barely sick. no i’m between. aggressive yet positive motivation (?) for the win!!! they further proposed that karkat “eats dirt for a living and doesn’t get sick very often”

Overall this was really fun to put together and answer, and i had a blast getting to colab with a mutual along the way :3 so thank you anon and thank you marvel!! this does bring me to something i’ve been meaning to say,,.,,,

@marv3l-drag0ns ,,? we’ve been friends forever, you know my dogs middle name, we complete each other in a way no one else can! you stop me from eating bones i find on the road, and i stop you from ascending to godtier to avoid going to exams…,…

would you be my

Moirail? <>

anyways! that’s all for now <3 this was so fun :) please send in more asks/ requests like this if you ever think of any more! i definitely feel for the camp counselor piece cause that was me earlier this summer PFF and all the counselors got sick and passed something around (but hey! it was an excuse to sit away from 7 y/olds for a few minutes while i got tea for my sore throat)

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messessentialist · 5 months

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chapter five

"I went by the motel last night," Steve blurts, eyes fixed on the floor. "I talked to some of the people hanging out there." Wayne settles himself into the chair next to Steve's. "I see. And?" "And Idon'tthinkEddieshouldgothere." The kid exhales the sentence like it's one long word. "The guy who runs the place, and all his friends… they all think Eddie’s a killer. He won't be safe there." Wayne reclines in his seat, lets his head hit the wall behind it with a dull thunk. “Well, at least we’re in agreement on that. Got any bright ideas for me?” “I was thinking… he could stay with me?" The kid’s voice is less nervous now, but still sort of… deferential. Like Wayne could put paid to the whole idea by just saying the word. Instead, he just shrugs. “I just want him safe, Steve. ‘S’all I’ve ever wanted.” Steve chews at the cuticle on his thumb, pensive. “Yeah,” he finally responds. “Me, too.”

chapter five of my big bang project start by pulling him out of the fire is now live! including artwork from the NOT ONLY TALENTED but also incredibly cool and funny and delightful @maikaartwork!

#the wayne fic #steddiebang23 #steddie big bang 2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #steddie #steddie fic #my fic

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whltlock · 2 years

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CHAPTER 2/10 ★ Masterlist ★ Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/AFAB!NB Reader, Minor Wally West/Reader

Summary: Some of Jason's memories return. You're included in them.

Tags: vague soulmates au, jason has temporary amnesia, Jason/Reader Endgame, Fluff and Angst, post-resurrection, Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Past Relationship.

WC: 1,818

After a tough night, you traipse into the kitchen and greet your guest with a tired, “Morning.”

Jason snaps out of his daze and meekly offers, “Hi.”

He’s taken a seat at the counter, but he still wears the blanket like a cape. He’s cute. You have to refrain from saying it aloud.

“Want some coffee?” you ask. You hold back an endearing nickname. It’s strange to want to fall back into routine with him.

“Sure.”

You busy yourself with the request, and Jason stares at your back. Although he wants to melt into your embrace, the yearning isn’t so strong this morning. He assumes it’s because he has you within arm’s reach. He watches how you move with practised ease. It’s a comfort that you’re unbothered by his presence; it means you feel safe with him. At least, the old him. He’s not sure that Jason exists anymore.

Soon enough, you present him with a mug. He takes it and tries to smile gratefully. It’s more of a grimace. You don’t mind.

“I have to work today, but you can stick around,” you tell him over the top of your coffee.

Jason stiffens. He doesn’t want to be without you. Makes the confusion rage within him. He doesn’t voice it.

“I can grab you something after if you’d like. Matcha? Pastries?”

He must like them, he thinks. You know best in this situation, so he nods.

You smile like he’s said something funny. “Which one?”

Whichever brings you back to me the quickest.

“Matcha,” he decides. “Thank you.”

God, he wants to ask what your name is, but it feels like a betrayal to you both.

“S’okay, Jason.” You leave your cup in the sink and pause at his side. Ever so slowly, your hand catches his shoulder. He observes, blank-faced. You sigh at how long his curls have grown in captivity. You wonder how the bone-white streak got there.

“What?” he asks, worried you’re upset with him.

“Nothing, I…” Your knuckles rise but stop mid-air. He looks at them, then at your face. Cautiously, he leans in to meet them. He lets you skim his jaw because of how it softens your expression.

He’s warm from being wrapped up in the blanket all night. His stubble is coarse. You’ve never seen him with so much hair. “I missed you, s’all,” you murmur, gentle as you continue to caress him.

He can’t do much but let you savour the moment. The idea of anyone else touching him is horrifying, but you—you’re okay. It’s the one thing he does know.

You give him a final pet before your hand drops. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. Jason’s a stranger in your life now, so you need to respect his boundaries. “I’ll see you later.”

Jason watches the hook latch onto you and tracks the line as it unreels.

Jason soon discovers that the method to make matcha is embedded in his muscle memory.

Once you realise, you let him do it for himself. He’s shy to ask for most things. You can only hope to draw him from his shell as time goes on.

He doesn’t talk much about his death, nor does he often ask questions. You suppose it’s a lot to deal with at once, so you don’t think it's too strange.

He only eats when you’re around, and he doesn’t eat a whole lot when he does. You have to coax him to take a few extra bites with every meal. He’d previously mumbled something about ‘not having much of an appetite these days.’ It makes your blood boil knowing he was starved so badly before his demise.

Jason only naps. He finds it hard to do so when it’s quiet, and equally hard when it’s noisy. There’s no safe time when the nightmares won’t creep in, so he avoids it for the most part. You scold him for it. He’s running out of ways to distract you. There’s only so many times he can use ‘I remembered something’ before you strangle him. Especially when it’s just bullshit like a street name.

You ask him to stay each night so he knows he’s welcome. Apprehensively, he does. He has nowhere else to go without tipping off his family, and he can’t wander far without heartache. So, he stays and he broods and he waits for a miracle.

You tread through the apartment hall towards your bedroom, although you stop when you spot Jason in front of your bookcase. He stares at the photo frames there, eyes scoping out each person. He finds Dick first.

“West,” he says next.

Your mouth pulls up. “You recognise him?”

Jason nods. He picks him out of the line up. He also notices how Wally leans into you, cosier compared to the rest of the group. He’s yet again left to wonder how long he’s been gone.

“Anyone else?” you ask.

“Troy.” And he keeps going because each name he recites lessens the tension in your shoulders.

Cheekily, you point yourself out. “Who’s that?”

Jason sighs overdramatically. “The devil in disguise.”

You elbow him despite how it amuses you. He smiles at you shyly.

“You could just tell me, you know,” he says.

Your smile turns coyer. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He rolls his eyes, but still, he promises, “It’ll come to me.”

You sleep on the floor at the foot of the couch when Jason needs to rest. It’s the only way he’ll relax enough to doze off, so you don’t mind. It’s nice to watch him slip into peacefulness. It’s nicer to sleep near him again, even if you’re not tangled in each other’s arms. There’s a sense of safety in it despite how you’re now the one who watches over him relentlessly.

You’re semi-conscious in that strange state before proper sleep; the one where you can hear your own thoughts as well as the ongoings of the outside world. Your head lolls backwards against the cushions and Jason’s blanket. His scent envelopes you and you nuzzle into it. However, you’re jolted from your stupor by a foot to the head. “Ow,” you grouse as you rub the spot.

It’s another beat before you become aware of someone hyperventilating. You jerk upwards and clamber onto the couch without another thought. You slot yourself into the sliver of space that’s left. “Hey, I’m here,” you say, hands landing on his knees. Jason writhes under the touch. “I got you. You’re safe, I promise.”

His eyes are glassy as they frantically scan the room. “I—” He chokes on whatever he tries to get out.

“It’s okay, Jason. I got you, alright?” you whisper, hoping to soothe him.

He looks at you and his expression breaks your heart. There’s snot and sweat and tears streaming down his face. His chest heaves with every breath. You rub his leg. “Breathe,” you say quietly. “In, one, two, three; out, one, two, three, remember?”

He nods half-heartedly as he tries to mimic the routine.

You lean across him to grab a tissue from the coffee table. But unexpectedly, when you return to your haunches, his body crashes into yours. You feel his small sobs shudder against your shoulder. Your head drops against his. “I got you, don’t worry,” you say as you wrap an arm around him. You murmur it into his hair like an incantation.

“The last thing before—” he cries. “My mom.” The words crack. He becomes a broken music box of repetition: my mom, my mom, my mom.

You don’t know how to comfort him. Sheila died with him, but you don’t think she’s been resurrected too.

He answers for you. “I tried to save her,” he babbles. “I tried, I did—”

“Jason,” you say firmly, “there’s not a single part of me that doubts that. You did everything you could. You died protecting her.”

He bleats, “Could’ve done more—”

“Don’t you dare say that.” You breathe in deeply, trying not to shake. He gave his all to his mom. He lost it all for her. “You gave her every opportunity to choose different.” You exhale, stroke his hair. “She chose wrong.”

At that, he quietens; snuggles closer to listen to your heartbeat. To convince himself you’re right.

The miracle arrives two days later.

He slinks behind you while you potter about the stove. You toss ingredients together in a frying pan. It smells good, but he thinks his news is worth burning the food for.

“I remembered something.”

You laugh without turning around. “Damn it, Jason, I’m making this for you—”

“Your name,” he says, and he slips closer. It’s like now that he has the key, he’s being called to the lock. The puzzle of his mind and his life can be solved with these secrets, surely.

You freeze where you are. He sees the muscles in your throat work to contain your feelings. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

It catches you off guard when his forehead dips and lays against your shoulder blade. The breath from his nostrils makes you shiver. The moment is intense and overwhelming as you wait for him to speak.

And then he says your name. He says it a few times, in actuality. Forces it to sink into your skin. Uses his nose to burrow it thoroughly.

If this is his home, then relearning your name just means he’s opened a window to let a fresh breeze in—air out the dust.

The words wobble as you ask, “You know me?”

“There’s gaps,” he muffles against your back, “but I know you.” He says your name again for good measure so you believe it’s true.

You turn in a flurry and throw your arms around him. He’s crushed into the hug and he welcomes the way your chest racks against his.

You shouldn’t be trying to recreate Niagara Falls, but the floodgates have cracked. Your sobs are damn near hysterical, but Jason just holds you as he lets his own tears escape.

For some reason, it hurts as much as the day you lost him, even though he’s right there. Maybe it’s the missing time. Maybe it’s just the utter tragedy of it.

Some people get a second chance. No one gets one like this.

Jason sinks into the crook of your neck and revels in your warmth and love. It’s been too long since he felt anything but the cold earth. “You kicked my ass when we first met,” he says against your throat. “It was damn sexy.”

You laugh through your tears. He goes on to recount the little flashes he remembers—the random things he knows about you. How you prefer mandarins to oranges, salty to sweet, and how you need to be kissed at least six times a day.

Jason doesn’t let go until he stitches the dam back together. And it might be duct taped, but it’s the best tool he has right now.

#jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #wayne family adventures #jason todd smut #jtsolace*

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tpwkwriter · 2 years

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My kind of clingy.

Y/n is extra clingy, and H cant get enough.

————

Stressed.

Only one word and stressed was it, y/n was working late nights, with rude and picky customers from the time she entered the building from the second she left.

The only thing on her mind was crawling into bed and H.

Entering the shared home of her and her boyfriend, she slides off her shoes and hangs her purse by the door, immediately flopping onto the couch while dragging a blanket around her body, she would normally call for Harry but she assumed he was working late due to his car not being in the shared drive.

While her eyes fluttered in and out of sleep she then felt a light kiss being placed on her resting temple, with not hearing the door open nor the car pull up, her eyes ping open.

The worry she felt was eased when she saw her boyfriend leaning on the side of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” She softly muttered still tranced in sleep.

“Live here funny enough love” he chuckled leaning down pressing a kiss to the girls forehead

“Someone’s sleepy hmm?” He whispered kneeling down beside the couch and his girl.

“Jus’ didn’t see your car, s’all” she replied slowly opening her eyes.

“Mitch has taken it for the night, his broke down”

She hummed in response

“Room for two?” He asked.

“mmhm always”

As the boy sat next to the girl, who was curled in the corner of the couch he instinctively pulled her onto his lap and scooted to the corner so she would remain in her comfy position, y/n automatically nuzzles her head into his shoulder and closes her eyes comfortably.

“Good day lovie?” He asks while slowly rocking her in his arms, in attempt to keep her awake.

“Stressful”

“Customer after customer and they happened to be all arseholes”

the number one thing harry hated was seeing his love distressed or feeling any type of a bad emotion, he wished he could take the pain away.

“M’sorry m’honey” he says holding her closer and tighter.

“Atleast this weekend it’s just us right” he continues.

Y/n’s heart could melt at his words and his actions.

She truly felt as if she did not deserve Harry.

The feelings were mutual, they were both each other’s angels.

Y/n nodded adjusting her self in his lap again.

“Had dinner yet love?” He asks with a concern to his voice.

“No, not yet, was supposed to come earlier for dinner but was completely packed”

“Let me fix you up something darling” he says

The care and concern he had for her then again makes her heart.

“It’s fine H, m’happy in your arms”

And so was H but he was adamant you were took care of.

“I know sleepygirl, but it’s important you eat, specially after a stressful day” he says putting on the tv and placing the girl down to the side so she can remain comfy.

——

Moments of bliss was shared, while happily eating the food H prepared for you both and shared more about each other’s day while lazily laying on the couch, made the girl forget all about the day she had.

Clear to say she was smitten.

As was he.

Once the dishes were clear and both the couple were happy enough they were fine to chill rest of the evening.

“Off for a bath H” y/n said slowly standing from her seat.

“Without me?” He said almost giving her puppy eyes

She giggled at his cheekiness and went up to there bathroom and began to draw herself a bath.

While putting her hair in a bun and slipping out of her work wear she slides in the steaming bath which instantly relaxes her muscles.

Doesn’t take long for a knock on the door to occur

“Lovie can I come in, got ya summat”

“Come on in Baby” the girl replies

“Here y’are” he says softly while placing a tea by the side of the bath and with a kiss to the forehead.

“Thank you lovie” she gasps continually surprised by how amazing this man is.

As he rambled on about a story that took place at the studio, y/n asked herself how did she get so lucky, from his beautiful eyes, his amazing hair and fashion sense to his lovable and adoring personality, she gets to call him all hers.

“Ever told you how much I love you?” She blurts.

“Maybe a few times. Would love to hear it more Angel” he smirks

“Where’s this coming from?” He smiles with a blush creeping up on his face.

“Is a woman not allowed to express her love to her boyfriend?” She giggles, taking a sip of her tea.

“Heeeeeyy” he laughs

“don’t think I tell you enough H, I love you” she says.

“Infact I fucking adore you” she says with a giggle but a serious tone just to make sure he believes it.

And at this he did go shy.

His lovie really said this? His heart is going frantic.

“Feelings mutual Princess”

“I love you more then you’d ever know” he says pressing down on his loves lips, wishing he was there forever.

———

Babe have you seen my Rolling Stones shirt?” H asks walking in semi clad with only his boxers on.

The girl chuckles.

“Uh sorry babe no” she adds trying to act as oblivious.

As he walks in and spots what I’m wearing he smirks once again.

“Yer little minx” he said smiling while wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down on the bed.

“Lucky i love ya” he adds

While both settling down and getting under the sheets his arms automatically wrap around your waist and his head lays just above your chest.

Both like a puzzle.

A completed puzzle.

Y/n allows her right hand to play with his hair while her left is holding his hand that is splayed across the girls tummy.

Even though y/n felt clingy after bad days.

She wouldn’t change it for the world.

And neither would he.

#harry styles fluff #hs #harry styles blurb #fine line harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #tooth rotting fluff #soft #clingy af #boyfriend material #boyfriendrry #harry styles x y/n #y/n x Harry styles

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onlyvrse · 2 years

Text

attached by the hip

“rooster has a sister? since when?”

“the living proof is right here, baby.”

“it’s okay seresin, I'm so glad to know that you’d fuck me if i was a chick.”

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x female!reader!bradley’s sister

genre: crack, fluff? lil bit of angst

summary: in which bradshaws sister is painfully aware of the conflict between the two men, so she decides to give him a reality check, in true bradshaw fashion.

warnings: explicit language, hangman is a cocky bastard, mention of loss, sibling banter (if that counts as a warning?), teeny tiny top gun maverick spoilers and not proof read lol

a/n: permanently in all lowercase and no, it will not be changing. eat my ass. also i primarily froth over rooster, but this idea came to my head at work, i thought it’d be funny for bradshaw siblings to fuck with jake. also this is the first fic i've ever posted but i write a lot in my free time, so yeah?

word count: 2.6k

written listening to: i ain’t worried by one republic (what else lol)

this is purely a work of fiction

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you were oh-so painfully aware of the childish banter between your brother and hangman. bradley would always come home, fuming off his ass about how he had showed him up again in training, whether it be leaving his ass to fail the exercise by getting caught by maverick, or just being an uncooperative dickbrain (his words, not yours)- nevertheless, you were always there for him, not that you had much choice. you’d always be prepared back home with a six pack of beer to calm him down, let him talk for an hour or two before he’d head off to bed. it’d been like this for a long while, just you two. although you were only a few hours older than him, you and him both knew that he’d always be your “baby brother” to the end of time, despite his countless complaints of the endearing nickname. when your mother died a few years after your dad had, he was the only family you had left- and you two’d been attached by the hip ever since.

tonight, was no different than any other night from the past few weeks.

you were situated on the couch in the corner of the small living room, you hear the familiar hum of the bronco outside, alerting you of his return. you lift your head up from your phone, anticipating the sound of the key turning in the doorknob. instead, you hear the thud of your brother’s head hit the door followed by a long grunt of what you were pretty sure was “fuuuuuucking christ.” you quip an eyebrow at the figure that walks in after his little moment outside. “you good, brad?” “you already know the answer.” you hum, pursing your lips into a thin line as you crack open a can, handing it to him as he sits down. he mutters a small thank you under his breath, letting his eyes gaze out the window.

“don’t let him get to you, roos.” you say, calling him by your shortened version of his callsign. he’s quiet for a moment before answering, “i don't know how he does it either, but he does.” he pauses, letting his eyes hit the rug by his feet before making eye contact with you, “he mentioned dad today.” you freeze, looking at him in disbelief as you grip the can of beer in your hand just the tiniest bit tighter. “he what?” “he mentioned dad today.” “what the fuck did he say?” you seethed, already feeling your dislikeness to the man you’ve never met before growing. “just mentioned how mav used to fly with him s’all, said it to get under my skin ‘nd it worked. almost punched the bastard.” “why didn’t you?” you question immediately, giggling at the end which of your sentence which, thank god, gets the corners of his lips to rise, even if it was just for a little bit.

you hated seeing him like this, he never let his anger truly overcome him, but you knew if he let it all build up and snapped, that asshole would be the one in the hospital bed- not bradley. nights like these were to prevent that from happening, that’s what you had convinced yourself at least.

you sat there for a few hours, letting him talk about his day as you shared the pack of beer, reminiscing about childhood antics and talking shit about the cocky blonde aviator.

after all, who bradley disliked. you disliked.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you really wanted to piss this hangman guy off.

like, really fucking bad.

little to your brothers knowledge, you had your own plans with how to deal with the problematic lieutenant, concocting up your own plan soon after the night he had told you that the bastard had brought up your late father. you knew that on days off of his training your brother would hang out at penny’s bar with the aviators that he actually tolerated. you knew of phoenix and bob, the two had actually visited your shared home a couple of times for drinks- even though most of the time bob hurled them back up in your garbage bin shortly after consuming said drinks- you got along with both of them well and ended up becoming good friends with the two over time. you never had the courage to accompany your brother on his nights off at the bar.

except tonight.

you had spent stupidly long getting yourself dolled up, actually putting effort into your appearance rather than opting for a shirt and sweats. you donned a little black dress, makeup (for once,) and had your hair up in a low messy bun with a bag slung lazily over your shoulder. rooster’s about to leave before he hears the clicking of your heels against the hardwood floor. “you look nice. wait- did i forget something important again?” he questioned, you shake your head, engrossed into the conversation you were having with phoenix over text.

phoenix: drinks at the hard deck tonight! are you actually gonna come this time? (9:01pm)

you: yes dumbass but! if hangman makes eyes at me i’m not related to roos (9:02pm)

phoenix: hangman?? the fuck are you up to? (9:02pm)

you: you’ll see (9:03pm)

delivered

“are you going to pen’s?” “yeah, why?” “can i come?” he tilts his head to the side before crossing his arms, fiddling with the keys in his hand. “uh- sure. but why? you never come to pen’s?” you lift your eyes up from your phone to look at your bewildered brother. “dunno, felt like having fun tonight.” he scoffs, feigning offence as he lifts his hand to his chest, “i'm not fun to drink with? you need other people!?”

“yeah, yeah get in the fucking car roos.”

“you’re so mean to me.”

the car ride there is uneventful, you both hum along to the songs on the radio but conversation stays minimal, your eyes are on your phone in attempts to entertain yourself on the short car ride there. rooster parks in the makeshift dirt parking space before letting himself out, you following suit after shoving your phone into the ridiculously tiny bag you picked last minute.

“you go in first, i'll stay out here a bit.” “okay? fuckin’ weirdo.”

you roll your eyes at him, shooing him away with your hands flailing around in the air. your brother was bewildered before, but now bewildered seemed like an understatement. he looked so genuinely confused you almost wanted to laugh. you watch as your brother clad in one of your father’s old hawaiian shirts lets the door close behind him, you wait a few minutes in the salty air before letting yourself in.

your senses are immediately hit with the smell of sweat, alcohol and the mumble of voices that blend in with each other. god, when was the last time you came in here? “y/n!” a familiar chirp voice snaps you out of your thoughts, phoenix approaching you with her arms extended- you lean into her embrace “god, you look good as shit! why do you never come out here with us?” you shrug, and she rolls her eyes at the physical response before hauling your ass to the bar. “penny! two beers please.” she calls out, and the woman behind the counter smiles at you, “haven’t seen you in here for a while, how are you?” she asks, grabbing two bottles by the neck and sliding them over to the bartop towards you, you stop the bottle with the back of your hand before grabbing it to take a sip, “mm, good, i dunno, busy with school.” penny hums, “come here more often, doors are always open for the bradshaws.” she claims, sending you a knowing wink after. you smile and nod in response, knowing the on and off relationship between her and maverick, your uncle. well, kind of? you’re not sure. it was complicated.

“hold on, coyote’s ass is getting beat by payback right now, i'll be back!” you laugh as you glance over, and indeed, the person you assume to be coyote doesn't look too happy as the other man, payback continues to pocket balls one after the other. phoenix is long gone before a raspy voice from behind you speaks,

“as i live and breathe. what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone?” you swivel in your chair, turning and taking in the man in front of you, tight white shirt paired with denim jeans, a overly confident grin plastered on his face, “waiting for a man like you to come and save me.” you joke, taking a sip from your beer. he laughs, a hearty one at that, “name’s jake. my friends call me hangman.” you can't help but bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile at the realisation that this was the cocky blonde aviator you had devised your plan against. you know he notices this, as he's basically already undressed you in his head. “y/n,” “that’s a pretty name, matches the girl.” he says, flashing you a million dollar smile with a toothpick between his teeth and you can’t help but laugh at the arrogant attempt to bed you. “why hangman?” you ask, hoping the conversation goes where you want it to.

“it’s my callsign.” “callsign?” “like a nickname, for people in the navy. for us aviators, it’s just an easier way to identify each other and everyone’s aircraft.” you feign interest, like you don't already know this: eyes sparkling up at him as you gasp, “you’re in the navy?” “yes ma’am, lieutenant seresin.” he answers proudly, saluting coyly before leaning in closer to you, close enough you could count the eyelashes. “so, you fly planes and stuff?” you say, voice dripped in lust as your hand is now resting on his chest “yes ma’am” he says again, letting his hand lean against the bar behind you, and you watch as the muscles in his arm ripple from the movement.

shame, you thought. he was a pretty guy, but way too cocky to achieve anything other than a one night stand with a woman.

“that makes a lot more sense,” you giggle, letting your body weight shift into the arm that was next to you, he reacts to this well, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he eyes where your skin made contact with his. he raises a brow, “does it now?” “uh-huh,” you smile, raising your drink to your lips as he watches, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

you two continue to talk, you let the man talk about himself, about how he always wins exercises against his teammates, namedropping your brother and you can't help but giggle. he buys another beer for you, and eventually he takes a seat at the empty barstool next to you and he leans in closer, you turn on the charm you didn't know you had with men and soon enough he’s leaning in for a kiss. you stop him with a finger to his lips, he opens his eyes, looking at you quizzically as you smile, “i'm not that easy, lieutenant.” and he frowns slightly, leaning back into his chair, “alright then, doll, what does a guy like me, have to do to take you home?” you smile, toying with the rim of your empty beer bottle as you sigh, “you’re good seresin, if i think of anything i'll let you know” “i know, i’m good, i'm very good.” you give him a quick wink before standing up to his dismay, spinning around on your heel as you ask penny to ring your tab. “it’s on me, doll.” he says, shooting penny a smile as he gives her his card, “why thank you, lieutenant.” before you can fully walk away, his hand grabs your wrist gently, “let me take you home, pretty girl?” he questions, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

“we’ll see.” you smile before eventually going to find phoenix and rooster.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“fuck were you doing with hangman over there?” phoenix asks, and you lean into her, whispering about the plan you childishly came up with in a few minutes after hearing about his comment on your father. she lets her jaw drop, “you’re so petty! i love it.” rooster picks up on something and joins the conversation, hands on his hips as he quips “okay, what’s up with you two?” he asks, you and phoenix still giggling to yourselves, “well bradshaw! your genius sister here, is trying to get bagman into thinking she wants to fuck him, before brutally, oh! so brutally letting him down.” she speaks, clinging to your brother while dramatically falling to her knees as she says this. “this is why you’ve been acting weird?” you nod, “fuck, you really are my sister huh?” he chuckles, putting an arm around you, rocking you slightly as he ruffles your hair “yeah yeah,” you start, swatting his hand away from your head. “‘s not over yet. he doesn’t know we're related. like at all.” “pfff, seriously? i saw it miles away. god that guy only thinks with his dick.” phoenix chimes in before looking behind you.

“rooster! hands off the pretty lady.” the same voice calls out from behind you again, hangman’s hand landing on the small of your back as your brother takes a step back away from you two, shooting him a look. “lil’ too late for this one bradshaw.” hangman triumphantly says, snaking his arm around your waist as bradley takes everything in him not to sputter out into laughter, he lifts his arms up, seemingly in defeat. “she’s all yours man.” he puts both hands on your waist as your brother walks away, losing his shit when he joins phoenix and bob, watching you two from afar, you turn to the blonde man in-front of you. “you’re determined, lieutenant. i'll give you that.” “does this mean i can take you home?”

you look up at him with doe eyes, fluttering your lashes as you ask. “yours or mine?”

the smile he gives you is blinding, god what a waste. “yours, little lady.” hangman gladly takes your hand in his, leading you out of the bar. phoenix and rooster watch from a nearby window as he circles his arms around your hips again, this time though, your circle yours around his neck in return “take me home, lieutenant seresin.” “show me the way, doll” you laugh, and he admires the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, he lets his forehead rest against yours “i’m being dead serious i have no idea where your house is” he says, joining you in your laughter. you look up at him again, dragging your finger down the middle of his chest. you take your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“don’t worry, you won’t have to.”

“pardon?” he asks before you abruptly cut him off “bradley! let’s go!” jake looks at you with disbelief, his jaw slack as the hands resting around your waist go tense, rooster and phoenix show up behind you, seemingly out of no where as bradley smiles at jake. “you.. you guys are dating?” you cackle, slightly cringing at the sound of your laugh reverberating around the previously quiet neighbourhood “god no. we came out of the same vagina for christ sake.”

“rooster has a sister? since when?”

“the living proof is right here, baby.”

“it’s okay seresin, I'm so glad to know you’d fuck me if i was a chick.”

seresin lets out an exhausted but very clearly pissed off groan as all four of you erupt into loud laughter, he flips you all off as he walks back into the bar. “god, you were so convincing i thought we almost lost you.” you dramatically bow before pretending to be offended by her remark.

“god no! my eyes are on payback.”

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfic #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #hangman fic #hangman #hangman top gun #jake seresin fanfic #hangman fanfic #phoenix top gun #bob top gun #coyote top gun #payback top gun #penny top gun #maverick top gun

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heartofwritiing · 2 years

Note

Had an idea of reader dancing to Kate Bush, Running Up The Hill, much to Eddies (fake or real) dismay. The certain part of the song saying "come on, come on," making reader pull eddie up to try and dance. Thought it was a cute short!

Come on, come on Darling.

paring: eddie munson x fem!reader

a/n: ahh this is such a cute idea!! I love the idea of us making eddie dance with us 🥹 reader knows pretty much every character in the show but only just started dating eddie. Takes place around the time of vol 1 could be before or during vol 1.

requests are open! 💌

warning(s): fluff and unedited!

And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God

You shifted your feet to the song playing through your headphones. Kate Bushes angelic voice echoing through your ears as you danced in your bedroom. Eddie Munson, your boyfriend was gazing at you with adoration in his eyes. He was currently sprawled across your bed on his side, watching you lip sync the lyrics. He could hear the song faintly from his spot on the bed. He was never really one for pop music, he was more into rock or metal but he would never force you to like things he did. You had been obsessed with Kate Bush since Max had lent you her tape and she insisted you listened to this song specifically. Saying how it was her most favorite. Now it is currently your favorite song as well.

And I'd get Him to swap our

places

Be running up that road, be

running up that hill

Eddie had never met anyone like you. You were smart, funny and courageous when it came to certain situations. He liked whenever Jason and his basketball goons picked on him, or anyone in Hellfire you weren't afraid to step up to him and tell him off. Not that Eddie couldn’t defend himself, of course he could. He just thought you were badass for telling off the biggest jerk in Hawkins high.

You and Eddie had only been dating for a few months, You’d never even met him until Dustin and Mike had joined Hellfire. Over the past few years you had grown to care for the kids, all of them in fact. They were like your siblings and fighting monsters from another dimension does oddly bring people closer together. You were just glad that everything was seeming to get back to normal even after the fiasco in the mall last summer.

You pumped your fists in the air as the second chorus came on. Eddie laughed when you did a funny move and you could hear it through your headphones. Tilting your head you slowed your movements and glanced at him.

“What’s so funny Eddie?” you peered over your shoulder. He seems a little flustered when you speak his name, almost like he was caught staring at you.

Be running up that building.

“Nothing sweetheart, you’re just cute s’all.” he clarified.

Say if I only could, oh You, it's you and me

It's you and me, you won't

be unhappy

You grinned at his comment and moved your hips as the bridge came in.

Come on baby, come on

darling

You motioned your hands in his direction as you sung the lyric at Eddie as you still moved to the beat and he frowned at you.

“Come dance with me?” you asked.

Eddie's face looked like you just slapped him with your question. It was so unexpected to him he didn’t think you’d ask him to dance with you. He wasn’t really one for dancing much either.

“Well how am I supposed to dance when I can’t hear the music?” he inquired.

You held a finger up and pressed the pause button on your walkmen and walked over to your stereo that sat in the corner of your small room. You take the tape out of your walkmen and place it in the slot. The song begins to play from the beginning again and you turn around to face Eddie again.

Let me steal this moment

from you now

You walk to the beat of the song while he laughs and you hold your arm out to him. You look at him with a mischievous look in your eye.

Come on angel, come on,

come on darling

As Kate Bush sings the line ‘come on’ curling your finger at Eddie you sway your hips from side to side motioning for him to get up and join you. He shakes his head and you pout at him.

“Common Eds, you can’t deny the power of music.” You tease.

You move over to the side of your bed and hold your hand out to him.

“I don’t really know how to dance y/n,” he confesses.

“Then I'll help you.” you offer. You twitch your hand at him once more.

“pleasee,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully, takes your hand and stands up. You lead him to the middle of your room placing his hands on your hips. He blushes at this while he stares at his hands. You place your finger under his chin to meet his eyes.

You put your hands up on his shoulders and begin swaying rhythmically to the music. Soon you’re both comfortable that now you’re hopping and spinning around. Eddie even twirls you

Let's exchange the

experience, oh

If anyone was watching you both they’d say that you looked crazy but no one was. You wouldn’t care what anyone would think either. Not while you were having the time of your life dancing sillily with Eddie in your room laughing at one another's dance moves. You honestly didn’t want anything else in the world than to be with Eddie Munson at this moment. Your Eddie.

If I only could, I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our

places

And be running up that

road, be running up that hill

With no problems.

tagging list: @redheadspark @steve-harringtons-slut @drspencerreid921 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @ftrmrs-ally-keofield @magnificentzombiebasement

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #fanfiction #asks #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson my beloved #stranger things 4

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zacharyleigh316 · 2 years

Text

Five Nights at Supernatural

Suptober Prompt: Day 12 - Crossover | Five Nights at Supernatural [SPNxFNAF] | Word Count: 1.3K | Teen and Up

When Sam has strange dreams of a place where a girl’s voice calls to him, asking for help, he, with the help of his bother, Dean, and their angel friend, Cas, applies to be the new night guard at a pizzeria called Freddy Fazbear’s. A place with that much history, built upon a foundation of blood, and secrets within it walls, well...it’s gotta be their thing, right?

Me, posting again, only a few days later, for another prompt as promised? I have to say, I’m pretty proud of myself, I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever written this much within such a short span of time (and I even managed to keep my word, so there’s that lol) anyway, I know that there’s a lot of different interpretations to the word crossover, but when I saw the prompt I immediately knew what I wanted to do. They just fit so well together, can you blame me XD I’ve been considering for a while now, actually, writing a larger, multi-chapter spnaf (as my friend so lovingly dubbed it) fic, so... consider this an excerpt, a little taste, if you will, of something bigger on the horizon

“Fuck, this place gives me the friggin’ creeps.”

Dean grimaced, peering out the window and over at the desolate, abandoned looking pizzeria. He shifted the Impala into park, after pulling up to the front entrance, and turned off the ignition, effectively cutting off Baby’s rumbling purr, and descending them into an eerie silence.

“Do you feel anything, Cas?” He asked his passenger, turning to face the angel, who was also looking out the window at the building.

He took a moment to study the premises, searching for something, anything, amiss before answering.

“Yes,” Cas hummed in agreement, breaking the silence, “It’s hard to tell exactly what it is, since it’s nothing demonic, but it’s very heavy. Something terrible happened here.”

“So I guess it’s too late to pretend this place isn’t haunted or some shit, right?” Dean joked, drawing Castiel’s attention toward him.

Dean bit his lip, trying to pretend Cas’ furrowed brow wasn’t all kinds of adorable–especially since they were currently, and actively, working a case.

“It would be safe to presume that it’s ‘too late’, yes. It’s quite haunted actually.”

“Is there anything else?”

Cas looked back toward the pizzeria, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and Dean followed suit, a shudder wracking its way down his spine the second it was back in sight. There was something about this place that put Dean on edge; he didn’t like–nor did he appreciate–the feeling. Like some kind of warning, to go away, run while you still could. There was no going back once you were privy to the secrets within Freddy Fazbear’s.

“There are some odd heat signatures in the building aside from Sam.” Cas confirmed, interrupting Dean’s thoughts, “but there’s something blocking me from getting an accurate read on them.”

“Guess that means it’s time to go in and rally the troops.” Dean said rather unenthusiastically, the idea not sitting too well in his gut.

“Let's get a move on Cas.”

They both exited the Impala, Dean making his way to the trunk, under Cas’ watchful eye. Dean popped the lid and grabbed his duffle of supplies, visibly hesitating before closing her up. Cas reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder, immediately easing the tense set to his jaw.

“Dean?” Cas asked softly, and Dean looked over, nodding.

“Right. Sorry, just…thinking. ‘S’all good.”

Something akin to acknowledgement passed between them, and only when Cas was sure Dean was okay did he lead the way to the front entrance, the elder Winchester brother following not too far behind. Sam was already waiting for them when they got there, and hurriedly rushed them inside.

“Nice costume nerd, who are you cosplaying as?” Dean snorted, looking his brother up and down, taking in his purple uniform with amusement.

“Very funny Dean, ha ha,” Sam rolled his eyes, “this is what they gave me, it’s not like I chose to wear this.”

“Who the fuck decided that purple uniforms were restaurant chic?”

“They aren’t that bad. Besides, it’s not like I’m actually going to be working here. I just want to go in, finish the job, and get out.”

“Yeah, sure. And when has our job ever gone that way, Sammy?” Dean raised a brow in question.

“Anyway,” Sam huffed, quickly changing the subject–despite knowing fully well that his brother had a point, “we’re heading to the security office first. They told me I’d get debriefed when my shift started, that some guy’s supposed to call the phone there. After that we can make a plan to explore the pizzeria.”

Dean gagged as they made their way down the hall, both he and Cas now following Sam’s lead, and scrunched his face up in disgust.

“Christ, it smells like burnt flesh in here.” he muttered, the feeling from before rearing its ugly head for the second time that night.

Cas looked around curiously, nodding in affirmation. “The smell is quite foul. Do we know if anyone died in the fires?”

Sam nodded. “So get this, the first initial fire was allegedly set by the owner’s son and basically destroyed everything, but it’s implied that, despite the damage, some things were able to survive. This place has been built over and over again.”

“Well that’s just great.” Dean complained, shaking his head.

“A building just as haunted as the things inside it. Shoulda just left it alone when it burned the first time.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t think the things that reside here would have found peace. Whatever is here is…restless. Angry. Trapped.”

“Is your signal still blocked?”

“Unfortunately,” Cas nodded, face grave with concern, “like I mentioned before, there’s something blocking my reach. Like it doesn’t want me looking further into the pizzeria. I don’t know the reason, but the influence is strong.”

“Strong enough to block out an angel?” Sam added, perplexed.

“Whatever it is, it’s certainly no longer human.”

“Friggin’ awesome, love this place already.” Dean said sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes. “Like some sadist, discount Chuck E. Cheese. “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, come in and get your trauma served with extra cheese. Don’t worry, the murder is for free.”’

Sam pulled another bitch face, glaring at his brother. “That isn’t funny, Dean. Real people died here, and for some reason, or other, they’ve asked for our help. The least we can do is show some respect.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Sam.”

Dean sent Cas a look of betrayal, only receiving a–rather apathetic–shrug in return. Licking his wounds, Dean crossed his arms and pouted, muttering a quiet “I thought it was hilarious” underneath his breath. He sullenly followed behind the other two, lamenting the fact that nobody really got his humor. Sam, on the other hand, knew fully well that his brother’s crude jokes were only a deflection, a mask to hide how he was really feeling. Even so, Sam didn’t have to put up with it, especially when said jokes were insensitive; everything had a time and place and, in Sam’s opinion, that wasn’t in a (most likely) haunted pizzeria where children were murdered.

When they reached the security office, Sam let Dean go first, and elbowed him hard in the side, warning him to behave. Dean let out a pained grunt, and glared at his brother, Sam matching his expression. Cas rolled his eyes, and shoved passed the two of them, ignoring their, quite silly and rather childish–if you ask him–moment of sibling rivalry. All else was hastily forgotten however, the second the angel walked through the office threshold. His eyes flashed blue with grace, and something electrical popped, causing both Winchesters to jump.

“Christ Cas, warn us next time you decide to go all Angel of the Lord on us, will you?” Dean huffed, holding a hand over his heart.

“My apologies, but that was entirely out of my control, Dean. I hadn’t intended on that happening, but next time I want to intentionally cause an electrical surge, I’ll let you know.” Cas sassed back, stormy blue eyes meeting green.

“You must have triggered something when you stepped into the security office, but what?”

“This place is old right? Could just be faulty wiring reacting to Cas’ mojo.” Dean cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with the angel, and looked away to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Maybe…” Sam trailed off, unsure.

Not leaving them much time to think, the phone over on the security desk rang loudly, and all three of them jumped, snapping their gazes over to the device.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, glaring at the offending object, “is this place full of jump scares or what?”

The phone continued to ring, mistakenly unassuming as it sat there in its corner on the desktop, the red light down at the bottom blinking out of time with every tone. Sam glanced at the others warily, and went over to answer it, each of them holding their breath, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. With a metallic whir, the line crackled to life, and with it came the answering enthusiastic, disembodied voice of a man.

“Hello? Hello, Hello!”

to be continued...

#suptober22 #suptober day 12 #crossover #supernatural #supernatural fic #Destiel #team free will #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #freddy fazbears pizzeria #my work #my writing #ficlet

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ilkkawhat · 1 year

Photo

[had this idea of years of nick getting drunk on absinthe and I finally got around to writing it, read on a03 here]

The first shot was a warning that he didn’t take heed of.

The second shot, he was still getting used to the pull.

The third shot had settled his nerves enough to stop looking over his shoulder.

The fourth shot, he stops counting.

The bar is filled and empty at the same time. There’s empty barstools on either side of him yet he feels confined. The music is too loud, but not loud enough to drown out the chatting, yelling, crying, screaming voices swirling like the finger that traces the ring of the shot glass in front of him. Its color glows under the spotlight hanging above his head. He feels nauseous, his vision’s focus going in and out, he just wants to get up and move, yet he’s glued to the spot. He has to kick his feet to avoid them from numbing like the tips of his fingers that feel like they’re expanding; he can feel the warmth in his cheeks and gladly welcomes the cold gusts of air that enter with new occupants as if on a schedule.

He’s thinking of fans and similar connections when the seat next to him is suddenly occupied.

The man doesn’t seem impressed when Nick downs his shot before turning to address him.

“Whaddya doin’ here?” Nick drawls in a slow blinking slur, jabbing a finger at Warrick that misses and he nearly falls off the stool.

“Having a drink…with my friend.”

Warrick sits him up, gripping his shoulders until he’s steady and not about to fall backwards. The corner of Nick’s mouth twitches up to a smile, before he bites down on his lower lip, and waves a hand to grab the next shot.

“What’s your poison tonight anyway?”

“Absent—absith—aaaaabsinthe!” Nick struggles to pronounce as he gleefully downs another shot. He snaps his fingers at the bartender to fill him up. The bartender’s paid off not to judge while Nick slides more bills towards the man who pours from a depleted bottle that catches Warrick’s eye.

“You’ve downed half a bottle?!”

“Not by mahself…tha’ douche—blech—bag over there had the first sip…” Nick thumbs behind him.

“Nobody’s there, man,” Warrick chuckles. “Well it’s a good thing I came to find you, cause you sure as hell ain’t getting home like this.”

“No pointin’ going home. Jus’ gonna sit there and watch some di-hic-ck-documentree ‘bout birds.”

“You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”

“...Yeah.”

Warrick pulls the bottle from over the counter to look closer at the alcohol content.

“You should be dead from drinkin’ this much, man,” Warrick shakes his head.

“I sood be dead, period,” Nick burps. “Use’ta drink lotsa…shining moon?”

“Moonshine?”

“That! My brothers dared me that I couldn’t…fuckin’ showed them.”

“Yo!” Warrick beckons over to the bartender, getting his own shot dealt to him.

“You sure ‘bout that?” Nick giggles.

“If you’re going down tonight, I’m goin’ down with you. We’ll get a taxi, or…something.”

“Whatta bout Tina?”

“She’s working,” Warrick shrugs off. He slides his shot glass over to clink against Nick’s new one. “Bottoms up.”

The pair swallow without tasting, Warrick coughs as every single orifice in his body burns, and his mouth fights against the harsh taste with a hacking cough.

“Whooooooo!” Warrick whistles out with a final clear of his throat and a fist to his chest. “This shit don’t play.”

“It dozen’t,” Nick mutters. He wipes his face, and seems to put on a new one. “S’all good, man.”

“You sure you’re alright, there?”

“Huh?”

“What brought you here?” Warrick gently nudges Nick.

“Can’t sleep,” Nick admits thickly.

“Not surprised,” Sara’s voice emerges from a new gust of cool air, floating around him, behind him, next to him.

“Know it’s funny? I hate the color green now. Can’t even…shut my damn eyes without seein’ it…”

Nick gulps and swallows the next shot hard. He licks his lips, eyes unfocused as he continues,

“A-and when I do, I just cuh-can’t breathe,” Nick holds a hand out in front of him, waving as if trying to pull air out of his body. “But drinkin…drinkin this almost makes it go away.”

Sara squeezes Nick’s shoulder. The lights start to dim, and he starts to breathe easier.

“Almost?”

“I told him, Sar. I told Gil’som it’s o-over…”

“And it’s not?”

Nick shakes his head, and buries it into his arm on the bar. His body rises and falls in rapid succession. Warrick shields him with an arm over his back.

“She shouldn’ta died, I shoulda helped! She was gonna turn her life around…become a hair dressssser…”

Sara and Warrick exchange confused looks, knowing that Kelly’s history wouldn’t lead to her becoming a beautician, but rather, a botanist if anything.

“I just stood there and…watched.”

Nick slams down another shot, hitting the glass on the bar with more force than before.

“Is that what y’all did? Just grabbed some popcorn and watched the ‘Nick Stokes Must Suffer’ sold out show?

“Nick, that’s not—

“Even when I shopped—shot the light? Well…it ain’t easy you know! Being green like that.”

He drunkenly laughs to himself, before changing his tone and even breaking out a tune,

“It ain’t easy being greeeeeeen…”

“That’s it, bro, you’re cut off,” Warrick laughs as Sara nearly cries from her own laughter.

“Nooooooo, it seems you blendin’...with so many otter things…” Nick continues, in blissful ignorance of the laughs of the bar, the judging looks of those who have no nostalgia with the tune, of Warrick and Sara wordlessly communicating paying for Nick’s tab.

“And many people tend to…” Nick’s voice hitches. He remembers the feeling. Being passed over. Warrick walking away. Dirt falling on top of him.

He reaches for the remainder of the bottle while the tender is busy. He can feel his arms get held back but he’s strong enough to break through them.

“Cuz you’re not standing out like flashy SPARKLES in the watah…” Nick pointedly sings at Warrick with a gross belch, after a long chug straight from the source.

“Nick, c’mon, man,” Warrick shakes his head, reaching for the bottle that Nick swipes away from his reach with such speed that some of it splashes out.

“Or…or………fuck what was the line?”

In Nick’s distraction, Sara manages to grab the bottle, and Warrick manages to grab Nick.

“Stars in the sky…” Nick gasps with wonder as he’s nearly dragged out of the bar. “So…pretty…”

“You gotta drive,” Warrick tells Sara. “I took a shot with him. I owe ya.”

“Bring me some coffee tomorrow and we’ll call it even,” Sara smiles. She helps lift Nick on the other side when she sees Warrick trip over his own foot.

“Tomorrow’s already here,” Warrick laughs.

“It could make you wonder why…wonder why…why wonder…why me?” Nick’s singing is mostly intelligible, but his crisis is clear.

“It’s alright, buddy,” Warrick whispers to him. “Going home now.”

Why me and not them? Why did they all die? Why did I live?

But all that comes out of Nick’s mouth, before the first of many retches of burning bile, is the last part of the song he could remember:

“I’m green. And I’ll do fine…”

Because the green never left. It’s still behind his eyes that close into a merciful, but uneasy slumber.

----------------------------------------------

He wakes up in his own bed, his waking mind filling him in with each blink. Being lifted and dragged out of the bar. Being sat in the backseat of the car and strapped in. Leaning against Warrick’s shoulder. A conversation without him, about him—

“I heard Kelly Gordon was a suspect.”

The car stops, his head rolls and falls against the window. His forehead’s already throbbing but the cool glass is unsympathetic.

“Who told you that?”

They start moving again, he holds a hand out to stop himself from falling forward.

“Gil.”

He wants to throw up.

“Yeah, Cath said she talked to him about it.”

He wants to tell them to stop the car again. Go slower.

“Wish he would have talked to us…”

He’s trying.

Not hard enough.

He sits up, a head rush tracing how his body had fallen back as gently as it could be. He can feel a throb in his temples as if he had hit something hard though there’s nothing but free air ahead of him. He spots the cup of water and pills on his bedside table, or at least, the blurred outline of such until he puts on his glasses which don’t seem to help the sickening motion. He breathes deep, reminds himself to go slow. Take it easy.

After a few minutes swearing to himself he’ll never drink again for the hundredth time in his life, Nick manages to get off his bed and stumbles towards the bathroom, before his heart leaps, seeing someone laying on his couch, made worse when he hears his front door open.

He quickly hides himself in the bathroom; cursing to himself that he didn’t just go back to his bedroom, get the back-up gun stashed in the table under the now empty glass and absent painkillers. He finds himself cowering between his toilet and the counter connected to the sink and feels so stupid, so embarrassed. Why did he drink so much last night, is this really his home? Did he take a girl home with him and is she going to be murdered and he be framed like with Kristy? Did someone follow him home, is he being robbed?

He hears distant voices, crinkling paper. He readies himself with a raised foot, not that it worked out well for him last time.

But it’s Warrick’s voice that accompanies a gentle knock, and a wave of relief washes over him like the cold water he splashes onto his face moments later.

He remembers now, the last thing that was said to him before he was laid to rest.

“We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You doing okay, buddy?”

“Alive,” he croaks. Something else wants to come up with his words. “I’ll…I’ll be right out.”

It comes out his mouth first, he leverages against the counter before collapsing onto the seat. Part of him just wants to sit there for the rest of the day. But he feels cold. He’s sweating. He’s hungry. He’s not necessarily thirsty but could go for something to salve the scratches on the lining of his throat.

He staggers into his living room, can’t help the soft smile when he sees Sara and Warrick at his table that’s usually not so occupied. His stacks of mail and books are replaced with greasy bags of food and the salvation of coffee—with sugars based on the empty packets wedged beneath the cup staged for him—a wave of nostalgia hits him; remembering similar mornings in the dorm after wild parties gathered with frat brothers, remembering seeing his family around the table back at the ranch.

Remembering how all of them, as a team made whole again, go out for breakfast at least once a month now. Together.

“How you feeling, Kermit?”

“What?” Nick’s eyes flutter after a stretched yawn. His nose tingles with the stench of sweaty clothes, and gross stains of stomach fluids on his own.

“Don’t remember your little concert last night?” Sara smirks above her steaming cup of coffee.

Nick scrunches his face in confusion before it spreads out into a regretful, shocked realization.

“Oh my god,” he cups a hand over his mouth.

“Those pipes of yours are still clean, dawg, I thought it was pretty good.”

“Well…you’re sure as hell ain’t getting an encore,” he grumbles with the tearing of the greasy paper. The smell doesn’t help with the threatening storm in his stomach, but the roar of hunger is louder. His mouth is already watering.

“Y’all sleep okay?” he asks quietly as they all begin eating.

“Slept enough,” Sara shrugs with that tone that tells him that she did not, in fact, sleep enough, further evidenced by a long stretching yawn.

“I told you to take the spare,” Warrick points at her.

“You wouldn’t have fit on the couch.”

“You guys didn’t have to stay over,” Nick chimes in.

“No, but we wanted to make sure you’d be alive this morning.”

“Don’t think I’ve drank so much since my frat days.”

“Seriously, Nicky. I want you to answer me, are you okay?”

Nick gulps, hiding his unease while nonchalantly eating his breakfast sandwich. And maybe it’s the carelessness with his heart as he’s focusing on repairing his stomach and head, that he answers out of left field with an uncharacteristic admittance:

“What would you say if I wasn’t?”

“I’d say…let’s talk it out.”

“We never do that,” Nick smiles humorlessly. “Why start now?”

“Because life is short, and more than insects ate you alive down there.”

“This some sort of intervention?” he laughs.

“It’s not, we just…want to hear how you’re feeling,” Sara tells him. He pauses again, leaning back, not meeting their gaze until he can swallow his pride—and his mouthful of eggs, cheese, bacon and sausage underneath thick blankets of bread. Though his arteries are just as equally protesting like his stomach and his brain is telling him not to do it, his heart opens up. It’s the least he can do to owe them for taking care of him last night. And always.

“I…meant what I said last night. About me being dead. And I still just, y’all, I just don’t get it. Why did I live and that…family, and that lawyer die?”

“You don’t give up so easily.”

“I almost did,” Nick points out. “Couple of times. Times y’all didn’t see. And the…the two times you saw,” he adds with a point to Warrick.

“You could have pulled that trigger the second you woke up, and you didn’t.”

“Would you have?”

Warrick meets his eyes with a tight nod. Nick looks over at Sara, who can’t even bear to look at either of them.

“That’s…that’s bullshit. Y’all are far stronger than I am.”

“It’s not a competition,” Sara reminds him.

“And it wasn’t…I’m-I’m not…that, you know? Don’t…believe in it, I guess. Except when it just seemed so…”

“Helpless,” Warrick finishes. “Is that how you felt with Gordon?”

Nick spreads his lips in a humorless smile. He stands up, suddenly losing his appetite.

“I could have saved her. I could have been…”

His mouth gapes open and he shakes his head with a disbelieving laugh.

“She asked…she asked if I cared why she did it. I told her it didn’t matter, cause she was just gonna go back to her prison cell having wasted the second chance that I…I damn near begged her not to take it with her.”

Like I did, he adds in a private thought.

“It’s not your fault that she did.”

“Still I could have…I should have…”

“You can’t do that to yourself, man. This job will tear you apart if you go down that road.”

“I know, I know,” Nick winces. “But I…I heard what y’all said last night.”

“About what?”

“Not tellin’ about what was going on. And I’m sorry, I was just…it was just a rough…there’s really no excuse.”

“It opened old wounds, happens to the best of us,” Warrick shrugs off but Nick shakes his head, pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger before dropping what he now realizes is a wholly unexpected revelation to his two friends.

“There was another voice on that tape.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how they got a hold of it, but Grissom logged it. Archie analyzed it. It flew over my head when I first heard it, there was this…thing that Gordon said at the end, it wasn’t meant for me. The lawyer that Kelly killed was an accomplice and what…what’s even worse is that I don’t even know what her part was in all of it, you know?”

He suddenly feels nauseous again. He thinks about darting to the bathroom again. Maybe he’s still drunk, he thinks, as he continues to rattle off his thoughts and feelings.

“And I thought…I thought it was Kelly at first. Thought that, maybe her father did visit her to record the tape, and then spent months planning my…And then when it was over and I went and visited her, when she visited me—”

“She visited you?” Sara interrupts. “When?”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Nick waves off in a cruel echo of his own words. “It just felt like another betrayal. Y’all warned me before to be careful with this…damn empathy I keep havin’, holdin’ their hand,” he looks at Warrick, “Pouring out my soul to anybody who’ll listen in hopes that it’ll make them feel better…”

“Or myself,” he adds with an acknowledging look to Sara.

“That’s not…it’s really not a bad thing,” Sara tries to argue. “In…small doses.”

Nick sits back down, wipes his face before he speaks again.

“It just…damn, it just hurt so much. I didn’t know if y’all knew about it or not. And judgin’ by the way you guys took it, I see now that y’all didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t gotta be sorry for that, man. Would have felt the same way.”

“I’m sure he just hid it to protect you,” Sara tries to reconcile and Nick scoffs.

“Protect me from what?”

“You’re paranoid enough as it is!” Warrick chuckles without joy behind it. “I could just see how you’d be acting, thinking that someone else was going to come and finish the job.”

“Crane was years ago.”

“Is that why you sleep with a gun in your nightstand?”

Nick can’t argue against that.

“But…they’re all dead now, anyway,” Nick waves off, and continues eating his sandwich. “Dead and buried for good.”

“And you’re not,” Sara reminds him pointedly. “You’re not buried anymore, Nick.”

“So, just like that, it’s over, huh?” Nick echoes a previous sentiment that still leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Too sour. He’s going to vomit.

He doesn’t let either of his friends respond, running to the bathroom and nearly running into the wall on the way there.

He lingers above the bowl. Practically hugging it since it feels like more is just going to spill out any second. Maybe it was the mention of Crane that triggers it, but he suddenly thinks of his prom date. Suddenly thinks of Jane Galloway. Wrong place, wrong time. What if she had lived through Crane? What if she ended up like Kelly, trapped in a similar cycle for vengeance, would she have taken out Crane? Would he have been able to stop her?

Would he have been able to help her finish the job?

Would he have helped Kelly, if he knew what she was doing before she did it?

After what feels like an eternity, Nick finds the strength to return to the table, where Warrick and Sara still waited for him.

“It’s not over that quickly. Even for you,” Sara continues as if he hadn’t even left.

“I know,” Nick admits. “But…but just…”

His voice cracks. He hates it. He hates the burning sensation returning to his eyes. Hates the tightness of his chest. Hates the answerless questions going through his mind, spoken by faceless voices and dead eyes.

“I wish it could be. Just a-a switch to flip off or somethin’. Maybe I should have left it all in the ground with all the other…stuff that was lost down there.”

Warrick and Sara remain silent as tears start to stream down Nick’s face. They got through the cracks that they were trying so hard to pry open. He wants to ask them if it’s worth it.

“I just wish it was easy. To keep…living through everything that—“

His words are lost to a choked cry for help that he never likes to admit he needs. To talk about his feelings like this, it somehow makes him feel weak. Small. Insignificant.

Just like he felt underground.

“It’s not a weight you have to carry alone, Nicky,” Warrick says in a low, comforting voice. He feels Sara touch his shoulder. Feels Warrick grab his hand. Feels their bodies close in on him, containing his heaving body. Two pillars of strength that never falter, never let him down. “We got you. We got you.”

#csi fic #nick stokes #warrick brown #sara sidle #nick and sara #warnick #csi 5x24 #csi 6x12 #mk.fic #mk.op #drunk!nick stokes #sorry i like to see you suffer nick

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drag-queen-jesus · 1 year

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listen

call me a fake fan, because i’m too lazy to go flipping through my book to find it

what is Will’s horses name again??? I need it for fanfic reasons

(like I THINK its Valdithar, but legit I don't know and I can't remember where in the book it says it - cuz doesn't he only name the horse like twice???)

if anybody can help me out, that would be fantastic, and I will love you forever

((bonus points if anyone wants to tell me whether “novitiate” it the correct word for the Stewards in training too, because i’m just bad with words I guess))

-shoutout to the almost 4k of fanfic I’m working on tho, its got me feeling some kind of way, and I can’t wait to share it-

James is giving him an awed, funny sort of look when he finally calms himself. The two of them are standing in the stream, knee-deep in the cold mountain run-off, miles away from any place either of them had ever called ‘home’, and James is looking at him like he’s…

“What?” Will asks, wanting to cross his arms in front of himself - to hide.

“I- nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before, s’all.” There’s a way about James, when he isn’t putting up a mask, where he lets his words slip out a little less formally, a little less self-important. Will forgets sometimes, that they’re the same age, or close enough, because James has always tried to make himself older.

Will likes him when he acts his age.

#dark rise #c.s. pacat #will kempen #james st clair #fanfiction #fanfic #wip #dark rise will #dark rise james #will x james #will kempen x James st clair

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wispstalk · 2 years

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snippet sunday

tagged by @dirty-bosmer and tagging @druidx, @peryitric, @nostalgic-breton-girl, @jiubilant, @blossom-adventures, @alxxiiswrites , @vedam. anyone else who wants to participate, no pressure, etc. etc. This is from a short piece I'll probably never finish, and the basic conceit is that I thought it would be funny if Coradri was in the thieves' guild, like, the whole time, and neither of her closest friends had any idea. Corresponds with the "Misdirection" quest.

She’s found her way around those buzzing magical gates: if she can slip past the guards that walk the walls around the University, there is a perfect spot to jump down. From the ground, the campus looks to be a perfectly symmetrical circle, but up above, an astute observer can see that the dormitory roof was built just a little closer to the central tower. Irathi gave standing orders to let her in, but why wait around at someone else’s mercy?

Once she’s safely on top of the Arch-Mage’s tower, she swings down and trips the window latch with her toe, then drops to the window ledge and pulls herself up with a grunt. She can be quiet, if she wants to, but since the Battle of Bruma, it’s best to make a little noise around Irathi if he can’t see you coming.

“Hey, beeko,” he says, without looking up from his papers. He keeps them neatly stacked, works on things one-at-a-time: nothing like Brother Martin.

“Hi. Do you need that staff?” She spotted it right away: a gnarled bone-white branch, sanded so smooth it shines, with a black orb of stone hovering among the tangled branches at its pinnacle.

Irathi sifts through his documents, squinting up at a sheet of parchment. “Not really. S’all yours.”

She snatches it from the mantle. “One more favor to ask. Can you request some increased Legion security around here?”

At this, he whips off his glasses and turns to look at her. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“They’re bothering people in the waterfront. You know the Legionnaires around here treat the poor like dirt.”

“That doesn’t mean I want more of them around here. Anyway, what are you asking me for? Go bother Ocato about it.”

Coradri rolls her eyes. That’s out of the question. She’ll steal some expensive-looking trinket out of Raminus’s room and leave the note there— he tends to be a bit more proactive about these things.

#tes oblivion #elder scrolls #thieves guild #oc: coradri #oc: tanis #ray writes

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snzyflowrr · 2 years

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I’ve made some OCs!!! i feel like i never see many wlw stuff on snzblr, so i did it myself. Let me know if you want me to make a post specifically about the two if them and their personalities and such.

CW: mess and sneezes

The morning sunlight streamed through their open window. Molly’s eyes fluttered open, and she inhaled deeply. She rolled over feeling warm and calm after a restful night. By her side was her girlfriend Emilia. Laying on her back, arms spread out around her, dark brown hair splayed on the bed.

Both girls were in their bras and pajama shorts because of the sweltering July heat wave. Molly sat up, straddling Emilia and pressing gentle kisses to her sun-tanned skin. Molly went to kiss behind her ear when she was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to sneeze.

Molly gasped in anticipation and pinched her fingers over her nose in an attempt not to wake her sleeping girlfriend.

“Hih-gnxxtt!” She smothered between her fingers.

But it was too late, “Good morning, love,” Emilia sighed.

“Sorry I d-didn't me-mean to wake you like that,” Molly tried to hold back, but the itch was now burning in her nose.

“S’all right,” Emilia shrugged, running her hands over Molly’s thighs. “What do you fancy for breakfast?”

“I huh… I huh… h-hold on I’m going to sne-sneeze- HIh-tcchhmp! Hih- Tchchmpt!! Tchhgnnt- guhh!”

Molly spluttered three quick sneezes into her wrist.

“Bless you,” Emilia said when the spurt was finished.

“Th-thank… HIH-GTchchhnnt!!, ugh thank you,” Molly soughed.

“Bless you,” Emilia said more passionately this time.

“Fuck my nose itches,” Molly complained and scrubbed the heel of her palm against her nose to try and get relief from the persistent tickling.

The irritant in Molly’s nose grew itchier, burning her nose. Molly could feel the snot building in her sinuses knowing that it was only a matter of time before it came spilling out. She put her finger under her nose to try and hold back the sneeze. But with every hitching inhale, it became clear that she could not control it.

“I'm… g-going t-to… I’m go-going to snee-huh- sneeze again… HIH-CHhhmptt!! HIH-Tshxxgnt!! Hump-Gnxxtchhh!! HIH- GNXXGTCHH!!! HIH- TXXHCH-Hnnkkk!”

Molly couldn’t hold it in anymore, double over Emilia’s body, rapid sneezes wracking her. She tried in vain to stifle the sneezes; in hopes to keep the mess at bay. This action only brought more to the front. Each sneeze was wetter than before and after the last sneeze exploded from her, she had a trail of snot running down her face.

“Sorry,” Molly said meekly.

“Here,” Emilia said, handing Molly a tissue.

“Guhh, thank you,” Molly said gratefully.

“Good to get all the morning congestion out, eh?” Emilia joked.

“You're not funny,” Molly said, mopping up the mess on her bottom lip.

She then blew her nose with a damp squelching noise from congestion. This proved to be a mistake. The allergen in Molly’s nose was stirred by the blowing; the tickle was back in full force.

“Oh god… not again,” Molly moaned before being subject to five consecutive wet sneezes.

“Bless you, love,” Emilia chimed sympathetically.

Molly had completely drenched her tissue, making it useless. But she could feel another spurt of sneezes coming on, “I… I n-need a huh… huh…” Molly’s breath hitched wildly as she tried to stop the onslaught of sneezes. “I need a-another t-t-tissue,”

Emilia pressed a fresh tissue to Molly’s nose, and as if on cue, she gave in to the volley of desperate sneezes.

“HIH-GNNXXCHH! HIH- TCHXXXMPT! HIH-TCHNNXXMNT!! HIh- GNXXGHTEWW!! HIH- ITCHCHXXNGTEWW!!!”

“Bless you, bless you!” Emilia said, rubbing Molly’s arms to soothe her.

Molly desperately shoved the tissue to her nose trying to catch the snot that was dribbling out after each exhausting sneeze. Her voluminous breast bounced with each burst, spilling out of her bra.

Molly quickly doused her second tissue and reached for another just in time for another bout of sneezing.

Each fit grew in intensity as her nose tried to rid itself of this irritant. Expelling a mass amount of snot, doubling Molly over in the process, her boobs vibrating as explosive sneeze after explosive sneeze took hold of her.

“I c-can’t s-s-stop… HIH-TXXCHHNTT! HIH-TCHHHUNCHH!! I can’t s-stop… heh… huH… HIH- GNNTCHH-GUUHH!!! I can’t stop sneezing-TCHHHEWW!!”

“bless you, poor thing!” Emilia said, feeling useless in this situation. She wanted to help Molly but she knew there wasn’t anything to do but wait for it to end. Molly’s bangs fell into her eyes after each violent sneeze so Emilia took it upon herself to push them back into place after each fit.

Throwing her seventh drenched tissue on the bed Molly reached down to grab another to find the box empty.

“Oh god… huh… guuh we’re o-out if tiss-tissues.” Molly gasped. “They’re too m-messy I… I c-can’t con-control them.”

“It’s alright, you're okay,” Emilia tried to reassure her but she could see the beginning of another fit developing.

“It t-tick-tickles so bad,” Molly gasped for breath. “So… itch-itchy… I can’t st-stop sn-sn-sneezing.”

Molly was hitching trying to fight the sneezes. Her breasts bobbed uncontrollably with frantic heaving breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Oh, g-god I-it’s st-starting…” Molly pinched her nose to try and rid the tickle, but her thunderous breaths revealed that they would be no use. “I c-c-can’t hold it… guhh… it’s c-coming… HIH-NXXXXTSHHH! HiH-GNNXXXCHHH!! HUH… HUUH… HIIIH! … HIIH-TSHXXXCHUMMP!! HEH… HEH…EHH… HIIH-TCHXXXCHHTT-GNNXXXT!!”

Molly had her fingers pinched firmly on her nose. Shuddering as her body cried to feel relief. Hitching and moaning in anticipation, Molly gasped for breath. “It… HUUH… it won’t ssstop…. HIIH… I can’t… HIIH!… can’t stifle anymore … GUUHH… UHH…GUUH”

Molly grabbed her enormous breasts as they continued to bounce without restraint. Tilting her head back as anguished never-ending hitches took hold.

“It’s going to b-be s-s-so HEH… HUH… mu-mu-messy… HIIH HEH HEH HEH… HIIH-ITCHSSHHHMMPT! HIH-TCHCHHMMPTT! HUMP-TXCHH-TNXXCHHH-TCCHHSSHEW-TCHHHEWW!”

Molly’s sneezes tumbled out of her, unrestrained and instantaneous. Leaning forwards into her chest soaking her boobs with messy sneezes that wouldn’t stop. The fit continued as Molly’s body convulsed into her jerking breasts. Each torturous sneeze was followed by a breathless moan, mess dripping from her nose creating a pool on her breast.

When the fit subsided; Molly was left messy, moaning, breathless, and exhausted. Her chest is still rising and falling from exertion.

Molly scrubbed her hand under her nose leaving a trail of snot on her hand.

“Bless you!” Emilia said.

“I really need a tissue,” Molly said, looking down at her boobs and hands covered in congestion.

“That’s my fault I should always have an extra box for you,” Emilia said, running her hands through Molly’s hair.

“I hate hay fever,” Molly moaned.

“I’m sorry love, I hate seeing you like this,” Emilia cupped Molly’s head in her hands. “Let’s clean you up, yeah?”

#Dropping this and running #In summary big tiddy sneezes #I’m very nervy about this #sneezefucker #sneezing fit #snzblr #sneezeblr #snz #wlw sneeze #Lesbian sneeze

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 1 year

Note

Anthorry this demonrry that blah blah vampy what about secret agentrry hmm 🤨 I just want someone to gaslight and be mean to me

“I’m an undercover agent sent to stake out an abduction ring in the area.”

“And your undercover identity is…a stripper? Interesting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s funny that your bosses are pimping you out for a case, s’all.”

“They’re not pimping me out, I’m one of the best agents they have!”

“Do all of them have abs and a tight ass, too?”

“I—”

“Thought so.”

“Just shut up and get in the van.”

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sketchy-rosewitch · 1 year

Text

A Night Out

Characters: Bo Sinclair, (OC) Frankie Smith, Lester Sinclair

A/N: lol shit kinda ass, but I need to get something about Frankie and Bo out there before I get into pining with them :)

Warnings: A fight, nose bleed.

OC Info page (you can find oneshots and info of my ocs here)

“Shit man, I didn’t even get into stuff like that as a kid! Let alone a teen!” Lester snorts.

Frankie shrugs between laughs, attempting to calm down. “Different rules when you’re on the road so much. What can I say.” He coughs, eyes watering, then sighs taking a swig of water.

“You wanna go out again tonight?” Frankie asks, leaning back on his palms, Lester sighs.

“‘Nfortunately I cannot. Got a busy day tomorrow. I can probably go out later this week, maybe Bo will go with you tonight?” Lester shrugs. Bo peaks his head out of the hood of Frankie’s car, a sneer on his face.

“The fuck you think I am? A babysitter?”

Lester looks at Bo.

“Jus’ thought you could get out, s’all.”

“Also who the fuck do you think you’re babysitting?” Frankie stands up, his arms crossed. “I’m 29, I can handle my fucking alcohol, Sinclair.”

Bo rolls his eyes and look at Lester. They seem to have a silent conversation that Frankie can’t understand. Finally, Bo huffs.

“Fine.”

Lester smiles and looks between the two of them. “Good, y’all get to tell me all about it when I come back! Now I gotta get going now. Gotta feed Jonsey!”

Lester let’s put a quick high pitched whistle, the black and white dog gets up from her small dog bed and follows Lester to his truck.

The truck starts and Lester drives away.

“Be ready at 10.” Frankie says. “And I’m driving!”

Frankie stands with his hands in his jean pockets, waiting for Bo to finish getting ready. Bo wasn’t late or anything, Frankie was actually early by about 15 minutes.

Footsteps pad along the upstairs and Frankie turns his head.

The tall mechanic makes his way downstairs. He wears a black button down with the sleeves rolled up and dark blue jeans with boots.

“Well shit! The man can dress!” Frankie holds his arms out surprised, a genuine smile falls onto his face. Bo snorts, “Shut the hell up.” He throws his keys at Frankie and pockets his wallet and phone.

Frankie smoothly catches them and swings open the front door, heading towards Bo’s truck. Bo follows closely behind him.

Frankie starts the truck and with Bo in the passengers seat they drive off.

Low music hums in the background, they’ve been driving for about 10 minutes when Frankie decides to start a conversation.

“Im surprised you’re letting me drive your truck.”

“I am too.” Bo replies, running his hands through his pomade covered hair. “Just knew you’d make a fuss at whatever place I decided to take us.”

Frankie let’s put a scoff. “Yeah if it was one of those hick-biker bars then probably.” Frankie looks over at Bo, observing the older man’s face. He lets out a laugh he was trying so hard to keep in. “Holy shit, it was gonna be one of those!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Never.” The blond man smiles playfully at the brunette, but it drops when he sees the look on Bo’s face, it’s deadly almost. His stomach clenches and he focuses back on the road.

The drive continues another 20 minutes, tensions slowly dissipating until they cease completely when Frankie parks.

Frankie takes the key out of the ignition and the two get out and walk to a bustling nightclub.

The music blares loudly, Frankie makes his way over to the bar, not bothering to see if Bo was following close behind. Luckily the shorter man was right on his trail. Frankie order them Patróns.

He takes them and makes his way to a table. He sits and slides the other shot to Bo, an orange sits on the rim. Bo looks at Frankie funny.

“Mama always said to chase it with an orange. Tastes a shit ton better. Never done it any other way! You ready?” The blond raises a brow playfully, Bo rolls his eyes and they tilt their heads back, quickly putting the orange slice in their mouths after the tequila runs down their throats. “All drinks are on me tonight aight?” Frankie says, getting up. “You wanna come dance?”

Bo shakes his head. Frankie pats him on the shoulder before walking into the crowd of people dancing.

Bo looks around and huffs. He’s never been this socially awkward. Bo frowns blaming his age. He should really go out more, usually he can play it well for the couple of tourists who come in town. This shit shouldn’t be any different, they’re all about the same age as them, same type of people to walk in to his shop with car troubles too.

Bo leans back in the booth, relaxing with his arms spread over the back of it. A bottle girl comes up to him and he orders a Jack Daniels to sip on.

Frankie is half way across the nightclub from Bo. Swaying his hips and dancing with both men and women. They’re all in a group together and seem happy that he’s joined them, they even bought him a Truly. Not usually what he drinks but it was free so he can’t complain.

Bo feels a playful tap on his arm and looks in the direction of where it came from. A woman who looks about two years younger than Frankie and smiling playfully down at him. He sends back a flirty smirk.

“You here with anyone tonight?” She’s almost yelling, he shakes his head and answers.

“Naw just my friend.”

“Your friend isn’t gonna get jealous if I take you for a dance are they?” The woman winks, her purple eyeshadow showing, then going back to almost hiding. Bo laughs and takes a sip from his whiskey.

“Don’t think he will. He’s a little occupied himself.” Bo puts his drink in his left hand and gets up, letting the woman grab and take him into the group of dancing people.

Bo sees Frankie a few people away from him but attempts to focus on the black haired girl who’s now dancing on him. Bo relaxes and lets her do whatever she wants. He continues sipping his whiskey and plays along with her.

Frankie sees Bo out of the corner of his eye and smirks. Eventually he would’ve had of to gotten up and danced. The blond buries his face kissing the girl he dances with’s neck. She giggles and he smiles into it.

Bo puts his hand on the woman’s hip. She wraps an arm around his neck and takes the whiskey out of his hand, sipping it, then gives it back to him.

“You cheap or somethin’ old man?” She jokes, making the man scoff.

“Naw, my friend is just payin’ tonight, didn’t wanna run him dry.” Bo explains, she nods, not really caring what his answer was.

An hour or two passes and the energy seems to shift in the air. Though Bo and Frankie are apart from each other they both feel the shift. The blond man apologizes to the group and thanks them for everything they did for him, while Bo ignores the warning signs, another man walks up to Bo and the black haired girl,

“Bo-!”

Bo’s shoulder gets grabbed aggressively.

“What’re you doing touching my girl!”

Bo looks into the raging eyes of another man, he’s confused for a second. He looks at the woman, who is in shock, then back at the man, who he connects is her boyfriend.

“Was just havin’ a nice dance with her. Couldn’t say no to such a pretty face.” Bo shrugs smugly.

“You don’t get to touch her.”

“Oh but I already did.”

Bo’s eyes water as he feels a fist collide into his nose. He’s quick to recover and grabs the black haired man punching him repeatedly. He hears only ringing as he’s pulled off of the man by security. They drag him out of the club, he doesn’t do much to resist. Only noticing he’s outside when the cool night air hits him and Frankie is trying to talk to him.

“Holy shit man. Are you good? I mean I know you’ve had worse. But like. Are you good?”

Frankie pulls out a tissue from his pocket and tries to dab it onto Bo’s nose. The shorter man snatches it from the other’s hand and holds the tissue there. “‘M good. Guy was being a dick bag anyways. I know he got it worse than me.” Bo laughs. Frankie forces a smile, it drops as soon as Bo turns to head to the truck.

Frankie watches him walk off and sighs shaking his head before catching up with Bo.

“We gonna tell Lester about this?”

Bo is silent.

“Nah…”

“Let’s go get some food so we can figure out what the fuck to say to him then.” Frankie and Bo let out scoffs and head to off the side walk to their vehicle.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x oc #slasher oc #frankie smith #house of wax #house of wax oc #house of wax 2005 #lester sinclair

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