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nakachuchu · 3 years

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Roommates | Gojo Satoru + Geto Suguru (nsfw)

SYNOPSIS: Satoru has a thing for you and Suguru is all for it.

READER: female

INCLUDES: cuckolding, anal fingering, anal prepping, pegging, strap-on, femdom, choking, degradation, hate/angry sex, saliva, masturbation, dacryphilia, sub/dom

WORDS: 1682

WRITTEN: 04/28/2021

You were roommates with Suguru and Satoru, and you didn't mind the fact that the two often had sex in the middle of the night or that Satoru was a loud-ass moaner. He was such an obnoxious bottom too.

When you first moved in with them, you knew it would be a handful to be around Satoru all the time. After all, you had been his classmate for years beforehand.

"Come cuddle with me now!" Satoru demanded as he sat next to you, trapping you in the middle.

You were cuddling with Shoko on the couch with a horror movie playing. There were some wine glasses on the coffee table in front of you.

Your hold on Shoko tightened. "Hell no, you creep!"

He reached out for you, but you weren't having it. You turned around, hand wrapping around his throat and shoving him down onto the couch.

His eyes widened as you squeezed his throat and hovered over him. Shoko and Suguru watched, interested in you putting Satoru in his place.

"Learn your place, dog," you spat out.

Your hand left his throat and you returned to Shoko's lap, cuddling with her while ignoring Satoru.

After a while, he got up from the couch and walked to his room. Suguru followed after him and entered the room to see Satoru covering his mouth with a bright red face while sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm hard," he muttered. "I'm completely hard."

Suguru snorted. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Not funny," Satoru spat out.

Suguru chuckled and stepped in front of Satoru, placing himself between his legs. He cradled Satoru's face, tilting his face up.

"Need help?"

Satoru blinked at him. "Like you could satisfy me."

"Mouthy tonight, huh? I can fix that."

“What bit your ass?"

You rolled your eyes and turned around, holding a mug of coffee in your hands. You leaned against the kitchen cabinet, glaring at Satoru who was smirking at you, wearing only Suguru’s t-shirt.

“Maybe you should invest in a ball-gag,” you retorted as you brought the mug up to your lips.

He grinned and walked forward to trap you between the cabinet and his body. His arms were on each side of your body, hands resting on the cabinet.

“Not gonna share?” he asked, glancing down at the mug.

You drank from it, then placed the mug onto the counter before cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips to yours. You pushed the coffee into his mouth, forcing him to drink it.

Some of the coffee dribbled down his chin, but he swallowed most of it. You withdrew from the kiss and smirked, then pat his cheek.

“You can have the rest,” you said as you ducked under his arm to walk away.

He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, then grabbed your wrist to pull you against his chest. You sighed and let him do as he pleased.

“Finally got Y/N to agree to have sex with you?” Suguru asked as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing your previous mug of coffee.

“No,” you answered.

Suguru shrugged, sipping from the mug. “It’ll be fun.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Anything that has to do with Satoru isn’t fun.”

“Yet you still agreed to be my roommate,” Satoru retorted.

You pursed your lips. “You have your moments."

“I’m good in bed, ya know,” he said.

“So you’ve said.”

Suguru crossed one arm over his chest, tucking it under his other arm. You were still trapped in Satoru’s embrace as the white-haired man blabbered on.

“He’ll let you top,” Suguru interrupted.

That caught your attention. You knew Satoru was a bottom with Suguru, but because you were a woman, you naturally assumed you would be the bottom—which you weren’t into.

“And you?” you asked, tilting your head at Suguru.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I won’t get in the way."

Suguru was sitting in the corner of the room, palming himself through his briefs as you prepped Satoru's ass. Your fingers were deep inside his ass, curling and prodding.

His ass was raised in the air, cheek smushed into the mattress as your free hand squeezed his neck from behind to push him down. There was a pool of saliva forming on the sheets. His eyes were covered by his bangs, but he knew—he just knew—that you had the smuggest smirk on your face.

“You have a really cute ass, Satoru,” you commented.

He cried out as you suddenly yanked your fingers out from his ass to slap his ass cheek. He jolted forward, cum dribbling onto the mattress.

You laughed at how red his ass turned. You thought he looked adorable with your handprint on his ass. You glanced at Suguru to see that he discarded his briefs by his feet. He was circling his thumb over the head of his cock.

You turned your attention back to Satoru and held the strap, placing it between his ass cheeks and sliding the fake cock back and forth to get it lubricated with his cum.

His ass was wet with his cum and the lube you used to prep him so the cock slid easily. You pressed the head of it to his backside, then slowly eased it, making sure to take your time.

A strangled gasp left his lips. You chuckled and squeezed his throat with one hand while your other hand gripped his hip tightly, fingernails digging in painfully.

You paused once the dildo went in all the way, leaving Satoru gasping and whimpering for more. Your hand around his throat trailed down his back, leaving tingles down his spine until you suddenly flipped him onto his back. He cried out at the feeling of the dildo twisting inside him.

You leaned forward to brush his bangs back, smiling at the tears in his eyes. Your hand wrapped around his neck once more and you licked his cheek before spitting into his open mouth.

“Cry some more for me, you fucking whore,” you spat out.

You slammed your hips into him, making him cry out in surprise. The hand around his throat wrapped around his cock, squeezing it while placing your thumb over the head of his cock.

His eyes rolled back into his head as saliva dribbled down from his mouth and chin onto the bed. His hands dug into the sheets, lewd sounds coming from his mouth.

"Nngh—Ha—Ah—Nngh—"

Your free hand raised his leg by pushing his inner thigh up. He moaned at the new angle, head tilted back. He was stretched out to the brim, so full of your cock.

Suguru was jacking himself off. He was biting down on his bottom lip, forcing himself to keep his eyes on his boyfriend instead of tilting his head back.

“AH—Cu—Cumming—“

“Hmm?”

He reached out his hand to you, making a pouty expression.

"Kiss?" you questioned, knowing what he wanted. "As if I'd let your filthy, disgusting mouth on mine."

Stray hairs fell in front of your face and you looked like a goddess—albeit an evil one. He sniffled, hand falling to the side right as he let out a cry. His legs thrashed around as your thumb didn’t allow him to cum. He was backed-up, the feeling of cumming forever there.

“N-No! Let—Let me c-cum!” he cried out.

“Well, what’s the fun in that?” you questioned.

Suguru breathed heavily through his nose, trying to force himself to not cum before Satoru. His hand was wrapped around his cock, thumb spreading his pre-cum around.

Satoru forced himself to look at you, eyes full of tears as you fucked him raw and senseless. His mouth was open, tongue hanging out while he slobbered all over himself.

“S-Stop,” he weakly mumbled, fat tears forming.

You leaned over, making the dildo dig into him. His pleas of “stop” didn’t mean anything. After all, that wasn’t his safe word.

You laughed. “Oh, look how pretty you are. Keep crying for me, slut. I like it when you cry, remember?"

He could feel his orgasm coming again, but it was stopped by your thumb once more. He cried out desperately and angrily as you fucked him with the strap-on.

His cock was purple and swollen, aching for release. His pretty tears fell as he blinked up at you, eyes blurry because of his tears.

"Wanna cum?" you asked as you continued to thrust into him.

He nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! Just let me cum!”

“What do you say?"

“P-Please! Please, let me cum!”

You removed your thumb and squeezed his shaft. His back arched and he groaned as loads of cum spurted out, creating a puddle on his abdomen that trailed down to the bed.

He let out a series of cries, hands grabbing onto your hand to weakly push you away. You pumped his cock, allowing the rest of his cum to spurt out. His hips jerked and his head rolled back against the pillow, eyes locking onto Suguru who was panting heavily with his own cum splattered on his abdomen.

You slid the dildo out of Satoru and he whimpered, backside clenching and unclenching around nothing.

“Happy now, dog?” you asked.

He didn’t even have the energy to respond to you.

You greeted Shoko at the door with a bottle of wine. She smiled, placing her hands onto your hips as you bounded toward her.

Shoko didn’t live with you or the two boys, but she often visited. The two of you drank while gossiping and watching movies. Shoko was a better drinker than you, so it was no surprise you passed out before her.

She was laying on the couch and you were on top of her with your head resting on her stomach.

"Don't you think they look super close?" Satoru whispered.

Suguru glanced at him. "You don't think..."

"Is Y/N...bi?" he questioned.

The two blinked at each other from their place in the kitchen—they were spying on you—then ran toward you two. Their voices overlapped with each other and they looked like feral dogs.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto Suguru x reader

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly

Summary: After Spencer fails his firearm recertification, the FBI believes some hand-to-hand combat and self-defence training is in order, and who better to administer it than the BAU's very own, Derek Morgan? Everything goes swimmingly until Derek decides to simulate an attack from above, and Spencer's thrust into the throes of a horrific flashback.

Tags: hurt/comfort, past abuse, platonic cuddling, angst with a happy ending, friendship or pre-slash, crying, panic attacks, flashbacks, episode: s01e06 LDSK, protectiveness TW: !!Discussions of Underage Rape/Non-Con including Molestation and Incestuous Sexual Abuse!!

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid (Platonic or Pre-Slash)

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

It’s a dreary day in late October when he fails his recertification test. Later, he’ll look back on this moment with a strange mixture of thankfulness and stone-cold dread, but in the moment all he can feel is the burning of his cheeks and the festering humiliation sat heavy in his chest.

Hotch is kind about it, because Hotch is kind about everything.

“Do you know what happened, Reid?” he asks with a complete absence of judgement, and it’s clear from everything about his body language and tone that he isn’t angry and he isn’t being critical, but Spencer feels his defences rising regardless.

He shakes his head and shrinks back in his seat, avoiding Hotch’s eyes.

“Did anyone do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?”

His eyes snap up to meet Hotch’s and he shifts to sit a bit more upright as he shakes his head with more vehemence this time. Sure, he didn’t particularly like the evaluator, but only because he seemed unimpressed with Spencer from the moment he laid eyes on him, acting as though evaluating someone who was doomed to fail was a waste of time.

Spencer can’t exactly blame him.

Hotch sighs. “Listen, Spencer,” he says gently, “I know you can handle yourself in the field and I know you can handle a gun just fine, but you know how many requirements were overlooked for you to join the unit in the first place, and you also know that your position in the BAU has been controversial with a few of the higher-ups. So, here’s the plan. I’m going to be your evaluator for your next recertification in two weeks, and in the meantime, I want you to do some hand-to-hand training with Derek to improve and consolidate your field and self-defence skills.”

Realistically, he knows that this is the best he could’ve hoped for, and he knows how hard Hotch and Gideon fight his corner when he’s questioned by everyone from witnesses to local PDs to the director of the bureau himself.

That does not mean he has to be happy about this.

He acquiesces because he has to. “Okay,” he says quietly, hoping he doesn’t sound as defeated as he feels.

“Reid,” Hotch says, redirecting his attention from the spot on the carpet he’s staring at. He waits for Spencer to look at him before smiling slightly and looking at him with a raw kind of earnest he knows is privileged to witness. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

It’s Spencer’s turn to smile, brightening up from his miserable disposition slightly. “I do.”

⭑⭑⭑

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says cheerfully, slamming his locker closed just as Spencer enters the FBI gym. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”

Spencer sighs, opening the locker next to Derek’s and putting his messenger bag inside before opening the grocery bag he’d brought his gym clothes in. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says drily as he pulls out his clothes and heads towards one of the two private changing cubicles.

He hears Derek chuckle to himself before he calls back to him as he opens the door to the gym. “I’m gonna set up, you come through when you’re ready.”

Spencer procrastinates for as long as he can, making sure his shoes are tied perfectly and the bows are even sizes, folding all his work clothes as neatly as possible and placing them carefully back into the grocery bag, but before long, there’s nothing more he can do and he has to face the music. He inhales deeply, steeling himself for the next hour, before putting his bag in his locker (closing it with much less force than Derek did earlier) and walking into the gym.

It’s a fairly big hall that’s usually used for academy recruits, large scale demonstrations, and the various sports teams that have cropped up in different divisions of the FBI. Spencer knows that Derek currently plays basketball for the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime team, the department that the BAU is part of.

Right now, though, Derek has them set up in a tucked-away corner, both hard and soft mats laid out on the ground surrounded by various equipment Spencer couldn’t hope to identify correctly.

“You took your time,” Derek says when Spencer approaches him, eyebrows raised and an obvious note of amusement in his voice. “But now you’re here, let’s get started.”

They begin with a short conditioning exercise that Derek says is supposed to ‘get the blood pumping’ but in actuality has Spencer panting like a dog and soaked with sweat within minutes. Maybe those higher-ups have something of a point. He knew he was unfit, but this is just embarrassing.

“Okay, now with the warm-up out of the way—”

“That was a warm-up?”

Derek doubles over with his laughter and Spencer can’t help but join in, despite how out of breath and red in the face he might be.

“It’s supposed to be, Spence, but maybe I over-estimated things a little,” he concedes once their giggles have died out. “Alright, alright, let’s move on to some basic self-defence moves. I know you probably already know most of these, but this is supposed to be a refresher, yeah? And to remind you that you can hold your own in the field, whether you pass your recertification or not.”

Spencer winces. “I don’t know, Derek, I mean I did fail every single physical aspect of the academy examination.”

“See, that’s what I mean, pretty boy,” Derek says, standing up from the mat and helping Spencer up, too. “You’re in your own head, and when you’re out in the field, you have enough enemies without making your own mind one as well. You know this stuff, Spence, I’m just here to remind you of that.”

“Alright,” he nods, holding in his sigh. He doesn’t mean to be negative, he just can’t help the way he’s feeling. The last week has been rough.

“Okay, so let’s go through front-facing attacks first,” Derek says. “What’s the first move you can do to protect yourself in that situation?”

“Elbow shield,” Spencer replies, holding out his arm and blocking Derek from coming any closer with his forearm acting as a barrier that Derek presses his chest against.

“Exactly, and what can you do to inflict damage in that position?”

Spencer responds by sliding his forearm up to Derek’s neck and applying light pressure, not wanting to actually hurt him.

“You got it. Okay, now what if I manage to grab you and pull you closer, what’s your move?”

He keeps his forearm locked to keep Derek from advancing too close, but this time he grabs his bicep with both hands and uses his core to bring him closer before he raises his shin and mimes kicking him in the groin.

“See, you know this stuff,” Derek says brightly. “The only note I have is to just remember to keep your thumbs in line with the rest of your fingers, not wrapping under my arm.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. The thumb is easily broken, although the most common injury associated with a broken thumb is actually damage to the larger bone of your hand, the metacarpal.”

Derek chuckles. “Exactly.”

Funnily enough, Spencer actually finds himself having fun as they walk through some other basic defensive movements as well as the best way to use tactical punches to overpower or debilitate an unsub or attacker. They frequently burst into peals of laughter, as can be expected when two close individuals find themselves having to do semi-serious work together, and before he knows it, forty-five minutes have flown by.

“Okay, I want to end with some more up close and personal attacks and the best way to stave them off, alright?” Derek says as he puts away the boxing gloves and pads.

Immediately, Spencer feels a small glimmer of nerves and anticipation for how this might make him feel, but he brushes it off. He knows he’s safe with Derek, and the whole point of the exercise is to defend himself. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Let’s start with an attacker coming at you from behind,” Derek decides, coming up behind him. “I’m going to cover your mouth, and you’re going to use your skills and knowledge to remove me, alright?”

Spencer nods, hoping Derek doesn’t read the hesitancy in it, and he supposes that he doesn’t because soon enough a large palm is tightly covering the lower half of his face.

For a brief moment, he isn’t a twenty-five-year-old agent training with one of his closest friends in the gym in the basement of the FBI Headquarters, but a scared and lonely ten-year-old in his childhood bedroom, trying to fight the persistent, evil man on top of him, wondering why his dad would do this to him—

He snaps himself out of it by opening his eyes and forcing himself to take in the surroundings, and before long instinct takes over and he’s gripping at Derek’s wrist and using his core and bodyweight to bend forward and free himself from the restrictive hold.

“Good job, Reid!” Derek says encouragingly, and there’s no evidence on his face when he turns around that he noticed any sort of hesitation or deliberation, so he suspects that his flashback really was only for a second, no matter how everlasting and all-consuming it felt in the moment.

He manages a shaky smile, and invites his next method of torture. “What’s next?”

“Okay, what if I was to grab your t-shirt and immediately start punching you?” Derek asks, immediately miming doing exactly like that.

Fighting the instinct to go into protective mode, he instead turns around elbow first and uses his other hand to mime punching Derek while his knee goes up to attack his groin.

“Perfect! That’s the spirit, kid. No unsub’s ever gonna get the best of you.”

Spencer blushes a little at the praise, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to meet his eye, but inside he’s beyond pleased, both with the encouragement from Derek and his own self-confidence he can feel flooding back. Maybe he really does have a handle on the more physical side of things. Maybe he isn’t just good for his brain.

“Alright, let’s finish off with some on the ground stuff, okay?” Derek says, sitting down on the mat and inviting Spencer to join him with a pat on the space beside him.

He hesitates a little, and this time Derek notices, his face softening.

“Listen, I know this one is a bit more uncomfortable than the others, but we’re almost done, right? Let’s just get a few moves consolidated and then you can go and have a shower and head home to relax.”

Spencer nods finally and joins him, laying on his back as Derek instructs. The vulnerability of the position has him feeling deeply uncomfortable, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s safe with Derek, but he forces himself to lie still. If nothing else, he doesn’t want to reveal this very personal and private detail of his childhood to his best friend. He just needs to keep reminding himself that he’s safe.

“Right, let’s practice the pinned wrist escape, okay?”

Before he knows what’s happening, before he can process the words and prepare him for what’s about to happen, Derek’s straddling him and resting his full weight over his hips and his wrists are wrapped in a tight grip, pinned to the mat above his head.

It’s so sudden and the sensations so overwhelming that he can’t help the immediate fear response that’s triggered, because he’s not in the FBI gym with Derek anymore, he’s somewhere else entirely.

“No, please,” he begs, voice strangled by a sudden, all-consuming dry sob that heaves his chest, “please don’t, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, please, dad, don’t—”

His sobs suddenly overtake his words and he’s left crying pathetically on the floor, too trapped in the memory to notice that the pressure’s been removed from his hips and he’s free to move his arms, too consumed by the physical and emotional anguish that came with the abuse to hear Derek’s desperate, heart-broken pleas from beside him, begging him to come back to himself.

“Spencer!”

A voice finally manages to break through the fog of panic, and he slowly regains consciousness, the white hot glaze of fear and crippling memory fading incrementally until he can see the high beams of the gym ceiling, until he can hear Derek’s gentle, soothing words beside him.

“It’s alright, pretty boy, I’m here, you’re safe,” Derek tells him gently, although Spencer can hear the urgency in his voice, even in his scared and overwhelmed state.

He covers his face with his hands as his desperate, heaving sobs transform into wet, humiliated cries.

“Hey, hey, Spence,” Derek murmurs beside him, “is it alright if I touch you?”

He considers shaking his head, but really, he wants some comfort right now, no matter how much he’ll hate himself for embarrassing himself further later. He’s glad he does though because Derek very carefully and very slowly lifts him up until he’s wrapped up in a comforting hug, his face buried in a strong chest. He’s not sure he’s ever felt safer than in this exact moment.

“You’re alright, pretty boy, I got you.”

Spencer continues to cry, the overwhelm of having a flashback that intense still wracking his body, but eventually, he starts to calm down, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles as he collapses, boneless against Derek’s body.

“Here, why don’t you have this granola bar and some water,” Derek suggests gently when his tears have dried up, reaching over to the edge of the mat where he was clearly hiding some post-exercise rewards.

Spencer accepts them tiredly, not moving from his position slumped against Derek’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asks him once he’s sipped his way through half the bottle and the granola bar is gone.

As much as he’d like to get things off his chest, as much as he trusts Derek, he just— can’t. So he shakes his head and pulls himself into a sitting upright position, although he still doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes.

“Okay,” Derek says softly. “I’m gonna drive you home. Come on.”

Spencer numbly walks through the locker room and the halls of the FBI with Derek guiding him until they reach his car, and the motion of climbing in brings a little bit more awareness back to him.

“Thanks,” he whispers as Derek starts the engine and drives them out of the parking garage.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy. No thanks needed.”

They don’t speak on the journey home, and Spencer contents himself with looking out the window at the passing scenery until they enter the city and trees transform into tower blocks. His mind drifts, but he’s just grateful that it doesn’t keep circling back to the flashback, having somewhat successfully resealed those memories like he always does, pushing them down and smothering them with as much good as he can collect in people and memories and things.

The silence between them prevails until Derek steps into his apartment behind him, closing the front door and helping Spencer out of his jacket before hanging his own coat up on a hook and steering Spencer towards the sofa. “You are going to sit here,” he orders, picking up one of Penelope’s hand-knitted blankets from its position neatly folded over the arm of the sofa, “while I get some tea and something to eat. Fancy anything in particular?”

Spencer remembers the satsumas and macaroons Penelope brought over the other day and tells Derek as such, following the other man with his eyes until he disappears into the kitchen and he’s left alone with his hazy thoughts for a couple of minutes.

They pass in a blur, though, and before he can blink, Derek is pressing a mug of warm chamomile tea into his hands and placing a small plate of a satsuma and a couple of macaroons on the coffee table.

The weight of Derek sitting down on the sofa next to him, and the grounding feeling of his palm wrapped around his ankle, has his hazy mind clearing until he’s in a much more present and aware headspace, enough so that Derek clearly notices it.

“You feeling a bit more like yourself?”

Spencer nods, and offers a small smile, trying to ignore the curls of humiliation and self-loathing working their way up his throat. Thoughts he hasn’t had in years are bursting at the seams Spencer had sewn tightly around them, brought up by physical memory alone, and he’s trying to hold them back, but somewhere in the back of his head, there’s his dad again, whispering dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, di—

“Hey, Spence,” he hears, and he snaps his head up, his dad’s voice shutting up and making room for Derek’s — Derek’s soft and gentle reassurances, his promises that he’s here and he’s safe and everything will be okay. “You got a bit lost in your head again there, kid. You alright?”

Spencer sighs tiredly, and a tear runs down his face unbidden. He’s not crying exactly, just— leaking. Leaking in the way a tap that hasn’t been turned on for years does when it finally experiences a much overdue release of pressure. Leaking in the way Spencer Reid does when he has a flashback to the sexual abuse he experienced as a child for the first time in two and a half years.

“Spencer,” Derek says, and something in his voice catches his attention, something serious, something earnest. He looks over at him. “Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

His cheeks pale and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears because those words, that means— surely not, right? How could Derek— how could he—

“It happened to me, too.”

And there’s the confirmation. There are the five words that have him breaking down again, tears splashing into hot chamomile tea and onto cold, cold hands, sobs wracking his sore and tired shoulders. No one should have to go through what he did, no one. Especially not— God, especially not—

“Hey, Spencer, listen to me,” Derek says urgently scooting closer on the sofa until he can lift Spencer’s chin up with his hands and raise his head until their eyes are locked on one another and he can bear witness to the pain and the openness and the concern swimming in his dark brown irises. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re safe. Don’t cry, pretty boy, everything’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

He pauses to give Spencer a little time to catch his breath, but after a couple of minutes he speaks up again. “Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Spencer knows it will break his heart to hear. He doesn’t want to listen to a story in which Derek Morgan was the victim and not the hero, not his hero, but part of him knows that he needs to hear it; needs to know that he wasn’t and isn’t alone. And he can’t help but wonder whether maybe Derek needs to say it. Whether he also needs to tell someone what happened and have them empathise completely, have them say “I understand, I know what you’re going through” and have them mean it.

So he nods.

“His name was Carl Buford,” Derek says, resting the hand not clutching Spencer’s ankle on his knee, “and he was my football coach. A hero of the community. After my dad died, I got in a little trouble on the streets, right, and as a result, I got a record. Eventually, that record was expunged, and I learned that Buford had done it. I was confused, obviously, but he told me I had potential, that I was special, that I was going places and he was gonna help me get there.

“And so we started spending more time together. At first, it was just one-on-one football training and some run of the mill mentoring, and I finally felt like I had a real father figure again, someone who I could look up to and talk to and trust. Until one day when he took me up to his cabin. He gave me Helgeson wine to intoxicate me, and then convinced me to go skinny-dipping in a lake with him but when we came back to the cabin, he started— he started rubbing up against me. It eventually spiralled into… molestation and rape. He used to say "You better man up, boy, look up to the sky" when I would cry out for him to stop, or later — when some shameful part of me had accepted it — when I would wince in pain or he could sense I didn’t want to be there.

“And that went on for years until I guess I outgrew his preference and he— I mean— I guess, I guess he must have moved on.”

Spencer wants to be sick, and he’s pretty sure Derek feels the same, so all he can do is lean forward and wrap Derek in the tightest hug he can manage while they cry together.

“Did you ever tell anyone?” Spencer asks after a little time has passed.

Derek nods. “When it started affecting my football career in college, I started seeing a therapist, and I’ve really gotten to a place now where I’ve come to terms with it. As much as I’m ever going to be able to anyway. Half of that therapy was me grieving for the childhood I lost, expressing the anger I felt towards Buford in a healthy way, and then accepting that there isn’t anything I can do to undo the pain except work my ass off at the BAU putting guys like him behind bars since I lost my chance with him.”

Spencer nods. “I’m sorry he isn’t in prison.”

Derek shrugs his shoulders a little, pulling out of the hug. “I keep tabs on him. If I ever so much as catch a whiff of him hurting one of the boys at the centre I’ll be on him in no time. Just… waiting for the evidence, I guess.”

Spencer takes the hand resting on top of his knee and squeezes it, a show of solidarity his tongue can’t manage.

They sit in silence for long, comfortable minutes before Spencer finally feels like sharing. He knows that Derek isn’t expecting anything: if he never wanted to explain, he knows Derek would understand completely, but something about knowing he’ll understand like no one else can, that he can share and feel safe in doing so has his own story rolling off his tongue like it never has before.

“It was my dad,” Spencer says quietly, a confession he’s always been too ashamed to make. “The first time it happened was the night of my sixth birthday. He said that the day was his own celebration, because he’d waited so long and he was finally going to get his prize. He raped me. It wasn’t like that every time, sometimes he’d stop at… touching or— or fellatio, sometimes he’d come into my room and stand over me, getting off on how scared I was anticipating the act that never came.

“He left when I was ten, not far away from my eleventh birthday, and a big part of me always wondered whether the main reason he left was that I wasn’t in his preferential age group anymore. But when I was thirteen, I bumped into him in a hotel in California of all places, and even though I was bigger and stronger and nowhere near as vulnerable, he still got the best of me, he still weaseled his way into my room and took advantage of me again. After that time I carried pepper spray everywhere I went until the FBI issued me a gun. I swore I’d never let it happen again.”

Derek looks desperately sad when he finally meets his eyes again, and before he knows it he’s being wrapped in another hug, and they’re both in pieces again. However painful these memories are, though, the release of them is more cathartic than anything Spencer’s ever experienced; crying together with another survivor over everything they lost, the people that stole their childhoods and abused them for years on end, their younger, scared selves, desperate for someone to save them.

It hurts Spencer’s heart, but he also doesn’t think he’s ever felt safer than right in this moment.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about this, Spence?” Derek asks eventually, with his cheek resting on the top of Spencer’s head.

“Yes,” he admits, another tear dripping onto the hands curled anxiously in his lap.

Derek pulls away and looks him in the eye, cupping his face gently and brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’m proud of you.”

As broken and unseemly and ripped open and torn apart as he feels right now, as exposed as this entire ordeal has made him feel, for the first time, he thinks he agrees with Derek.

His trust was destroyed by the person supposed to protect him, and he’s carried the trauma of being sexually abused as a young child around with him for the last two decades, and still, he’s here. He’s brave enough to share himself with Derek, and he’s strong enough to cry and grieve and ache for the scared six-year-old boy he wishes he could go back in time and save.

Right now, in the early evening light of the flat and the safe and supportive arms of his best friend, he’s proud of himself, too. And that feels really damn good to finally say.

Please practice self-care after reading this, especially if you are also a survivor. RAINN Rape Crisis UK International Help for Survivors

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @cmily @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (taglist form)

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bunnyywritings · 4 years

Note

hi!! i’m back to request more bc ur works are actual masterpieces uwu,,, can i request for hcs or scenarioes on Bakugo/Todoroki/Tamaki (or Aizawa because i am in fact a Shouta simp) hiding their relationship with their S/O until they accidentally out their relationship bc he got jealous skdhdkhf i’m a sucker for these boiis (ily pls don’t forget to smile and drink ur water

accidentally outing their relationship

[a/n: Thank you for requesting anon! I too am, in fact a shota simp 😔 i definitely smiled reading this request so thank you for that anon💗 i also appreciate the reminder to drink water since I tend to forget, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy-`ღ´- ps. uhh todoroki’s turned out a little different...]

katsuki bakugo

There was a reason why blasty boy wanted to keep your relationship private. Literally everyone in Class 1-A was super nosy. Excluding a select few, and he didn’t need a bunch of extras intruding the relationship. You agreed that you wanted to keep it secret as well, enjoying the cuddles and kisses behind closed doors. Neither of you were super into PDA so it wasn’t too hard for the both of you to restrain yourselves. He was used to seeing you joke around with Denki, Mina, and Kirishima so he didn’t really pay too much mind to the innuendos and flirty jokes thrown back and forth. He knew you’d never leave him for either of those idiots and he trusted you enough to stop when things go a bit too far.

Despite him calling them idiots, he trusted his friends to not make a serious pass at you or say anything that would make you uncomfortable. He did get upset when Mina kissed your cheek once but he restrained himself enough because he knew it was just a friendly gesture.

His patience did get tested around Mineta but he always enjoyed watching you kick that idiots ass and making him fall to his knees and beg for an apology. Never fails to make him smile. But there were times where he couldn’t keep his anger at bay, like now.

You guys were out with the bakusquad at a festival, some of your guys’ other classmates followed along. It was going pretty well so far when the night was ending and you had basically had to drag Bakugo over to the game booths.

“Please Suki, it’ll be fun~ Just one game.” You pleaded, pulling out the pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

“No, I’m not paying for a damned game that’s probably rigged or something.” He crossed his arms.

“What if I paid and you just played with me?”

He huffed in annoyance. “No, don’t wast your money on that crap.”

“Whatever, I’ll just play one myself.” You rolled your eyes and went to a booth, waiting in line to play.

“Oooh who’s that with (y/n)? They’re really cute!” Mina squealed, that caught Bakugo’s attention. A popping noise and black smoke emitted from his palms as he watched the scene in front of him. This person had the audacity to wrap their arm around your waist and try to hit on you.

“Whoah Bakugo, relax.” Kirishima placed a hand on his shoulder but it was shrugged off as Bakugo stomped over to you.

“HEY! Get your grubby hands off of my s/o!”

“Whoa, whoa hey, relax dude.” They pulled away from you and held their hands up defensively.

“Don’t tell me to relax asshole! They clearly didn’t want you so close to them, so back off!” he let poor sweat pool into his hand and the popping intensified, you could already feel the heat radiating from it.

“Alright babe, that’s enough...let’s just go.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He glared at the person who was just all over you and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him and hungrily swallowing your lips in a hungry kiss. A kiss to show everyone that you were his an no one else’s.

Needless to say, the bakusquad was just waiting for the two of you to date, they just hadn’t expected the two of you to already be a couple and they definitely didn’t expect Bakugo to be the one to out the both of you.

“Wow.” You mumbled as the both of you pulled away breathlessly. “What happened to not letting the extra’s know?” You teased.

“Shut up idiot, I had to show ‘em who you belong to.” He looked away, blush on his cheeks.

You gasped. “Was somebody jealous?”

“Wow Bakubro! You’re such a tsundere!” Kirishima snickered.

“You have two seconds to run, airheads!” He growled as he unwrapped his arms from your waist and chased after them.

“Yup...that’s my boyfriend.” You sighed, flinching at the sound of an explosion not too far off.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, (y/n)!” Mina giggled from beside you.

“Yes, yes I do.”

shoto todoroki

It’s not like the two of you were hiding your relationship on purpose but it was more like, no one had really asked or anything so you just didn’t see the need to bring attention to it. The relationship was fairly new to the both of you so it was very nice to be able to figure it all out while not having any unwanted attention. Todoroki was a sweet boyfriend, he was very hesitant about initiating any physical contact because he was terrified of being like his father. You reassurance definitely helped but you also didn’t mind taking it slow. You weren’t much of a fan of Endeavor. You never were, not before meeting Shoto and definitely not after.

Today, Class 1-A was having a competition of quirks. It would work like a bracket competition until there was one person standing. Endeavor had caught word and decided to sit in and watch. You had beat Tokoyami and moved onto the next round, Shoto had beat Uraraka and moved on as well. Your eyes widening when the next bracket was announced.

“Alright, Todoroki and (L/n)! Be on standby, the two of you are next.”

The both of you stared at each other with wide eyes. When you guys started dating, you agreed that you wouldn’t hold back during training or battle simulations. You had never been paired up though, so this was a bit of a shock.

“Come on (y/n)! You’ve got this!” Ojiro patted your shoulder as he walked past you since his was the bracket that had just ended.

“SHOTO!” The sudden shout caused you to jump and turn towards the source, not very surprised to see Endeavor sitting in the stands, All Might and Present Mic seated next to him.

“You two ready?” Aizawa asked as the two of you got prepared.

“Ready.” Shoto’s smooth voice calmed your racing heart.

“Ready.” You nodded.

“Alright! Begin!”

Shoto watched as lightning enveloped your body, hair starting to float upward (think of killua’s godspeed). He knew how dangerous your quirk was, especially with how much you’ve trained to strengthen it. You could produce at least 1billion volts without passing out. The same amount of electricity as a raw lightning bolt. The sound of a loud crackle of lightning snapped him out of his trance and he scowled, keeping his senses alert, as he looked around. You disappeared, or that’s what it seemed like. Within a blink of an eye you appeared right in front of him.

“Peek a boo~” You teased, you placed your hands on his chest and sent a mild blast of lightning into him and he flew backwards, using his ice to stop him from flying out of bounds. A small smirk spread across his lips as he skid to a stop.

“Come on (y/n), I thought we agreed to give it all we got.”

“All right then Shoto, bring it on.”

Aizawa instantly regretted not setting a time limit when your battle lasted past the 10 minute mark. Not that anyone was complaining though. Watching two people with high skill sets battle it out was intriguing. Endeavor, however, was furious. Clenching his jaw impossibly tighter every time you got the upper hand.

Towards the 17 minute mark, you had taken a substantial amount of damage already. You were slowly growing more, and more fatigued. Shoto could tell and decided to ease up. But when he attacked, you could tell.

“No, d-don’t hold b-back! I’m not weak!” He could tell that you were frustrated with your performance and he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you that you were anything but weak. He noticed that you were gonna do your ‘signature move’ so before you could complete it, he encased you in ice. Aizawa was a bout to call it when the ice cracked before a loud boom was heard and ice was sent flying everywhere. He watched in horror as you collapsed to the ground.

“Todoroki wi-”

“(Y/N)!” Everyone was shocked as he ran to you, dropping to his knees to check if you were okay. “(Y/n)? Darling please...” He cupped your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone. His fear may have seemed a tad bit irrational but he panicked. He vowed to himself to never hurt you in any way, so in his eyes he was the same as his father. Once your eyes opened he sat you up and brought your lips to his, “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”

“Wow, maybe I should get hurt more often.” You chuckled.

“No fair!!! Todoroki has more game than I do!” Denki complained. Well, that cat’s out of the bag.

“Shoto!! What do you think you’re doing?!” Oh right...Endeavor.

tamaki amajiki

I think it’s a bit obvious why he wanted to keep the relationship a secret, he didn’t think he could handle it if other people knew. Mirio and Nejire definitely had their suspicions but didn’t want to overwhelm their friend with accusations.

He was looking for you during lunch, you had said that there was something you needed to take care of something before lunch but that was over half an hour ago. He was mumbling worriedly to his two friends, assuming the worst.

“Oh wait, are you talking about (y/n)?” Nejire tapped her chin. “I saw them go into the hero support classroom. They said something about a suit upgrade.”

Just then, you had entered the cafeteria, but you weren’t alone. You were with Keita...he was another third year who was in the advanced hero support class. They were also known to be a huge flirt. Tamaki couldn’t help but feel jealous as he watched how they had made you laugh, the pink tinge covering your cheeks was worrying as well. The two of you split and went your separate ways.

“Hey (y/n)! How’s it goin’?” Mirio asked as you sat down.

“I’m so excited, my upgrade request finally went through! I’m finally getting a new suit!” He thought you looked cute as you expressed your excitement before guilt filled his entire being as he realized that he was jealous over nothing.

Over the next couple of weeks, you had spent an awful lot of time smiling at your phone, not to mention spending a lot of time with Keita. He knew that creating a whole new suit was a long process. It took a long time to test out prototypes and whatnot but he couldn’t help but think that you were losing interest in him. That you were spending more time with Keita because he was doing a horrible job as your boyfriend. Because he wasn’t there when you needed him or because you just got fed up with his timid nature.

Somewhere inside of him, he knew none of it was true but he couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t good enough anymore. You had noticed that he was acting strange so you decided to ask him about him.

“Tama? Is everything okay? You’ve been acting a little strange recently...” He gulped nervously.

“Well I uh, I-” He sighed heavily. “Do you still want to be with me, (y/n)?” The question completely threw you off guard.

“Of course I still want to be with you Tamaki? Why would you think that?” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well y-youv’e been h-hanging out w-with Keita a lot, s-so I just thought...well I don’t know.”

You frowned and cupped his cheeks to tilt his face back up so you could look into his eyes. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was n-nervous...I d-didn’t want you to think I w-was being clingy.” He stuttered, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Aww Tama but I love it when you’re clingy~” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss in the tip of his nose which made his cheeks erupt in heat. “Would it make you feel better if I stopped hanging out with Keita so much?”

“B-but what about your suit?”

“Well it’s pretty much done by now, all the prototype testing was done today.”

He was happy that you were spending more time with him lately but one day when you were walking down the hall together, Keita had approached both of you.

“Hey (y/n), so I know your suit is done and everything but I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?”

“Oh Keita, I’m sorry.” You slipped your hand into Tamaki’s and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m already dating someone.”

Tamaki turned and leaned his head against your shoulder in embarrassment. Keita apologized and left you two there. You turned and held Tamaki in your arms, lettin him keep his face buried in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you Tama, but now everyone knows.”

Legend has it that Nejire and Mirio are teasing the both of you about it to this day.

shota aizawa

The reason why Aizawa wanted to keep the relationship secret was because you were a petty well know pro hero and with the onslaught of villain attacks against his students and the school, he couldn’t endanger you by putting a target on your back. You were also a young pro, you were only 4 years younger than him, and he didn’t wan to “ruin” your image.

One night, you had gone out for some drinks with Miruko. The two of you had been good friends since your UA days and that bond hadn’t broken. She said she’d be bringing a friend along, you just shrugged it off and told her it was fine. What you hadn’t expected was to see her and a certain maroon winged hero strut into the bar. You were mortified. The memory of telling her you thought he was hot coming back to you and slamming you like a 50 ton truck. That was before you started your relationship with Shota but Rumi hadn’t known about that.

“Hey (y/n) this is Takami.” You smiled politely at the blonde. “Takami this is (y/n).”

“Very nice to meet you.” He grinned flirtatiously.

“Likewise.” You shook his hand, internally groaning. This was gonna be a long night.

A couple of drinks in, you switched to water and club soda so you could sober up. You had an early patrol the next morning and you did not want to risk being hungover on the job. The entire night you had to fend off a flirty Takami. However, what you weren’t aware of was the person a few feet away from you snapping pictures of you and the blonde hero.

The next morning, you woke up to multiple tabloid articles about the two of you in the bar. The dating scandal was trending all over social media. You hadn’t really thought much about it and just went to work like usual.

When Aizawa saw the tabloid he frowned. He was a little conflicted because he obviously knew it wasn’t true and he had complete trust in you but he couldn’t help but feel insecure and a little jealous. There was no denying that people loved the idea of you and Hawks together, even he couldn’t deny that the two of you looked good together.

Later on in the day, you decided to make your way to the school to see Shota because the guilt in your stomach just wouldn’t go away. Even if you hadn’t really done anything, you still felt horrible. You had told Aizawa you would be showing up during your lunch break, he said he’d be waiting for you at the school gate. A few journalists had seen you make your way towards UA and decided to bombard you with tons of questions about Hawks.

“When did you two start dating?!”

“Where did you guys meet?!”

“Do you two usually meet up at bars?!” etc, etc...You had your bottom lip tucked painfully between your teeth.

“Actually, they’re already in a relationship.” The sudden deep voice behind you made you grin. His arm wrapped around you and pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss right under your ear. “Now if you’ll excuse us...” And with that, the two of you made your way onto campus.

“That was very out of character for you, Aizawa-sensei~” You purred teasingly. He grinned and pulled you flush against him, chest to chest, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

“Well I couldn’t help myself from getting jealous, people were thinking you were with that blonde asshole. You’re mine baby.“

“Carry on then.” he didn’t need to be told twice as he dove in for another kiss. His students may or may not have seen that go down and they may or may not have teased him about it the next morning.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons

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diary-of-deadweight · 4 years

Text

Suggested by @t-amajiki

Marvel: how Peter and the readers relationship are before and after he reveals he’s Spider-Man.

Before the reveal:

This puppy dog of a man was ridding off the high of having asked you, the person of his dreams, out that during missions he as a few close class if it wasn’t for his ‘spidey tingle’ as aunt May put it.

Which meant he got scolded by dad!Tony, who might’ve gained one too many grey hairs from his recklessness.

Peter was going to be the death of him he swore it much to the avengers amusement and Peter’s embarrassment.

He would blush whenever you kisses his cheek

He would stammer when he saw you wearing something of his, it was the cutest thing his eyes ever saw

He would always stare at you in whatever classes you had together cuz he’s a lovesick puppy, it did earn him several scoldings from the teachers but he didn’t care, he just wanted to see you smile that bedazzled smile more often even when you thought it was hideous.

He encourages you to do a lot of things you wanted to do but didn’t have the confidence to. He’s super supportive.

You would be there on the anniversary of uncle Ben’s death to offer him comfort and reassurance that he would be proud of the person peter is today without a shadow of a doubt about it.

Whenever he wasn’t scheduled for future missions and he was up to date with homework he would always invite you over for a sleep over.

He bribed you with excessive cuddles, kisses, his baggy jumpers he’d knows you die for, pizza and a movie marathon of your choice. The boy was whipped to a T.

Needless to say you caved because who would pass up a goldmine like that accompanied by a cutie like Peter? You wouldn’t, you couldn’t.

Peter would feel ashamed in keeping a part of himself away from you when you promised to not withhold information from one another

but then he remebered why he with held this vital piece of information from you.

In order to protect you from the people who would, without hesitation, hurt you in order to get to him in the most heinous of ways.

He couldn’t afford to do that to you, more importantly he couldn’t do that to himself. He had already amassed a lot of losses that he didn’t want to add you to that body count, it would break his already fragile heart.

Ned and MJ pretty much approved of the relationship when it started off as totally-not-creepy- admiration stares across the room from two lovesick idiots, they would make bets on who would do what first.

MJ won most of those bets, without question.

Peter knew that his last night escapes would go under heavy suspicions from you and rightfully so, there would be a time where his excuses run their course dry.

He didn’t want you thinking he was cheating but...what could he do when his confessions aren’t enough?

So for now you’d continue being the cutest couple everyone wishes to be.

After reveal:

“Why didn’t you tell me Peter?” You asked with an calm, cold voice, your face completely devoid of any emotions, of the smile that would brighten his life even if it was just for a fraction of a second; It was the smile he’d treasure more then anything but right now he didn’t deserve that blinding flash of pearly whites in this moment with what he had hidden from you for a good proportion of your relationship. He knew he wasn’t going to be as trusted as he was when the relationship began after this.

The damned red and blue suit that would bring him a sense of joy now only brought him a sense of dread as it laid upon his mattress, mocking him for his faults.

“I wanted to protect you,” he cried out, voice cracking from the raw emotions,“to protect you from the people who would hurt me through you!” Tears brimmed the doe eyes you’ve fell in love with but now...you weren’t so sure anymore...you scoffed, unable to believe what you were hearing right now, not really seeing any reason to take his words for granted when he could be lying to your face more.

“I’m sorry to break it to you but your reality and mine are one in the same, I’m going to get hurt one way or another. Whether it’s by you, me or someone else,” you stepped closer to the now silent boy, voice lowered to a whisper, “I’m still gonna get hurt but hey, that’s what makes me more human then most.”

You both stood there in silence for a while that felt like forever, refusing the break eye contact with one another as you let your words work their paralytic affect while you questioned where you should go from here with your relationship knowing damn well that there was going to be mistrust lingering overhead going forward, painfully becoming more and more apparent the longer the silence lasted.

You phone went off, notifying that your ride was here, ready to take you back to the comfort of your home. “That’s my ride,” you broke the tense tension, reading up to adjust the strap upon your shoulder, coughing awkwardly when Peter didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes glued to the socks and his hands toying at the sleeves of his jacket. Seeing that there was no need to stay any longer then you already had, you turned on your heel and made your way to the bedroom door, silently hoping he’d do something to stop you so when he didn’t it fractured your heart more, “goodbye Peter.”

With that you shut the door behind you softly, you knew he only meant well but as for right now it was probably the best if you spent sometime apart to recess your relationship.

#marvel headcanons #mcu headcanons #marvel hcs #mcu hcs #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman headcanon #spiderman hcs #marvel #mcu #peter parker #spiderman

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bxcketbarnes · 5 years

Text

Guitar Lessons

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Words: 1400+

Request: Ok, so a Calum one where they just sit and he teaches his S/O how to play the guitar, with the promise of learning the bass as soon as they learn the guitar. And they just spend the day cuddling because his S/O's fingers hurt cause of the guitar.

Author’s Note: This request is cute and I hope I’ve done it justice. Also, this gif of Calum is adorable as fuck I die.

You got home from work and made a pit stop at the store to get stuff for dinner this week. Bags of groceries were bundled into your arms as you gently kicked the door shut. “Cal?” You called out when you reached the kitchen, not seeing him in the living room and the TV was turned off. You hummed, wondering where he could be since his car’s home and he never mentioned going out with any of the boys. You quickly put away the grocery’s tossing the bags before your feet take you down the long hallway towards his music room.

The sound of a bass being played could be heard through the wooden door and you knocked on it softly before opening it slightly to peek your head in. My blue-haired boyfriend turned around in his chair, taking his headphones off and Duke sneaks past your feet to run to his dad. “Hey, buddy. Hi, baby. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” Calum greets and pets the dog for a few moments before standing up from his chair. He sets the bass onto its stand then walks over to you, his arms sliding around your waist.

“That’s okay. I was just wondering where you were,” you softly smiled at him and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers gliding against his buzzcut. “You think after dinner you can finally teach me how to play?”

Calum laughed and glanced towards one of his prized possessions before looking back down at you. “I don’t know if you’re ready for the bass yet, babe. You need to learn the guitar first,” he tells you and you drag your nails across his neck.

“Then teach me the guitar first?”

“Hm, I guess I can,” he smirked and you laughed, hitting his chest playfully.

“You’re cruel sometimes, you know?” You ask him and he shrugs his shoulders. You shake your head before pulling his face closer to yours, capturing his lips with yours again. A short moan left his lips and you chuckled, pulling away from him. “What do you want for dinner?”

He hummed and moved some of your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he thinks. “Do you have the stuff to make fried rice?” Calum asked and you grinned, nodding your head.

“Oh, absolutely. It’s our favorite dish. I’ll always have shit to make it,” you smirked at him and he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll go start it.”

“Alright, beautiful. Let me know when it’s done,” he mentioned and you nodded, leaning to press one last quick kiss to his lips before heading out of his music room while calling for Duke to follow.

You and Calum devoured the fried rice, the two of you not making much conversation as you were in such bliss. He helped you take care of the dishes, washing them together as he bumped his hips against yours every chance he got. Cal grabbed a beer from the fridge as you leaned against the island, watching him open it before you spoke up.

“So? Guitar lesson now?” You asked, really excited about it as he nodded before pulling the bottle away from his lips.

“Yes, baby. We can do it now. Come on,” he motioned and heads down the hallway.

You walked into his music room, sitting down in the other roller-chair that’s beside your boyfriend. He grabbed his acoustic guitar, holding it in his arms as he makes sure it’s tuned correctly.

“Alright, so I’m sure you know how to hold it,” he mentioned while handing the guitar to you. You nodded your head, grabbing the neck of the guitar before setting it in your lap, adjusting a little bit to make sure it’s comfortable. “Okay, do you know what string is what?”

You shook your head, looking up at him as he rolled in front of you. He mumbled incoherently before taking your hand in his, placing your index fingers against the thickest string.

“So, this is the sixth string which E. Moving onto the fifth string,” Calum moved your finger to the next one over before meeting your eyes, “this is A. Then we’ve got G for the third, second is B, and the first string is also an E.”

“Okay,” you mumbled as he let go of your hand, grabbing his phone from the table before typing onto it.

“I’m gonna get a short nursery rhyme song or something for you to practice,” he told you and you nodded, strumming the guitar strings as you wait.

Calum went with the nursery rhyme Baa Baa Black Sheep and tried to teach you the cords for almost an hour an a half. You did well for a little bit, but your fingers began to hurt from the constant playing and then your performance dropped from there. You were glad that when he was teaching you to play he wasn’t a serious teacher, laughs between the two of you were shared when you kept getting it wrong.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” he mentioned after the two of you stopped, the tips of your fingers raw from the rough strings.

You grinned, proud of yourself as you glanced up at him. Calum placed his large hand on your cheek, pinching your cheek slightly while smiling back at you. “Soon enough I’ll be able to play the bass,” you winked and he laughed, shaking his head.

“You’ve got a long way to go, baby, but yeah,” he took the guitar from your hands, placing it onto it’s stand in the corner of the room as you stood up. “How do your fingers feel?”

You shrugged your shoulders, looking down at them as they were red and deep indents from the strings. “I mean, they don’t feel great,” you mentioned and he nodded, grabbing one of your hands to analyze it.

His honey-brown eyes met yours before he brought them to his lips, pressing kisses to them. You chuckled, feeling your cheeks blush a bit and he released your hands afterward. “They’re going to hurt for a while because you don’t have calluses. I don’t really want you to get calluses either so maybe we’ll use a pick next time,” he explained and you nodded your head, agreeing with him. “You wanna… cuddle now?”

You bite your lip, giggling while nodding your head. Calum pressed a kiss to your lips and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together before leading you to your shared bedroom. Duke was already laying on the edge of the bed, completely passed out as he snored. You silently awed, rubbing your thumb across his head and he didn’t move one bit. Calum grabbed his Maine shirt, tossing it towards you before you could grab a nightshirt.

“I take it you want me to wear this?” You asked with an eyebrow raised. He just shrugged his shoulders before removing the shirt he was wearing before tackling his jeans. You pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it into the laundry basket before removing your bra. You tossed that over as well, feeling Calum’s eyes on you and you take a quick glance at him to see his eyes for sure on your breasts. You chuckled and grabbed his navy blue shirt, pulling it over your head and he whines a bit. “You give me this to wear and now you don’t want me to wear it? Make up your mind, boy.”

Calum laughed, putting his dirty clothes into the laundry before sliding under the covers. “I just love your tits, what can I say,” he tells you and you roll your eyes.

“You’re such a man,” you laugh before sliding your pants off, tossing them into the basket. You got into bed, laying beside your man as he wrapped his arms around your waist immediately. You rest your head on his chest, his fingers dipping under his shirt you were wearing to stroke your back. The two of you laid in silence, enjoying each other’s company and you can feel Calum move a bit to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your hair and you smiled, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I love you so much, Calum. You’re the love of my life,” you confessed to him and this time his cheeks blushed as his eyes roamed your face.

“And you’re the love of mine. After everything I’ve been through, I didn’t think I could love again and then you came along and proved me wrong.” Your heart fluttered and you leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips before laying your head in the nook of his neck. “I can’t wait to marry you, baby girl.”

Taglist: @h0tsos @thebookamongmen @bumblebet-20 @asht0ns-world @singt0mecalum @maddz-world @gotta-try-something-new @twilightparker @ashs-cheergirl @therainydays4 @thatcheekychic @dashlilymark @shower-me-with-roses @latemikedevil @lukeskisses @fayesfairylights @morningfears

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benkouji726 · 4 years

Text

Five times Alex surprised Forrest and one time he didn’t

Fourth Chapter! I can't believe it!

This chapter is all about Buffy. It took me longer because writing pet-human dynamic is just sooooo hard.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Sometimes Forrest thought he should just rename Buffy Long to Buffy Manes and call it a day. Other times he was convinced that Alex only stuck around for the dog. He hadn’t know it was possible to feel jealous for both parties while simultaneously feeling love towards them when he saw two people (in this case a person and a dog) together, but Alex had stirred up so many raw and new feelings in him that it really shouldn’t come as a surprise.

So there he was, stood in his doorway, coming home from an exhausting work meeting, and was entirely engulfed in this swamp of feelings in his chest he almost stopped breathing for a minute.

Alex, wearing a white sweater and some yoga pants that seemed to be made of the softest material in the whole world, hair a mess, face relaxed and lying down on his stomach; half under Alex’s body, being held loosely but securely by his right arm, was a soft snoring Buffy.

They were not even lying together on the sofa, but at the foot of the sofa, on the floor, Buffy’s favorite chew toy next to them. Like they had played together for a really long time, both so happy they hadn’t wanted to stop, until they were too tired to even get on the sofa, they had to just lie down right there and fall to sleep, while cuddling.

And to think: Alex never wanted to sleep anywhere other than in the bed because the bed would be nicer to his leg; and Buffy never wanted to sleep next to anyone other than Forrest because she was a PRINCESS like that.

Safe to say it was the most beautiful thing Forrest had ever seen in his whole life.

——————————

More often than not, Forrest woke up to some (one-sided) conversation like this one.

“No, Buffy, you can’t eat that.”

“Don’t give that look, girl. You know I’m just looking out for you. You need healthier diet.”

Forrest smiled. Alex was so gonna lose that battle, again.

“Stop it. I know it always works on your papa, but it’s not gonna work on me.”

Well that’s a lie.

A fond sigh.

“OK, you win. But you have to walk with me a LOT longer today if we’re gonna burn all the extra calories. And this is non-negotiable.”

Yeah, bring out the captain voice. It would do absolutely nothing to the dog except maybe receiving some halfhearted tail wiggling.

And also getting Forrest hot and bothered.

He walked out to the kitchen, stood behind Alex, threw a glance over his shoulder to Buffy, and yep, she was happily eating her treats and totally ignoring Alex’s pretend glares. He hid his smile in between Alex’s shoulder blades, hands reaching around to sneak under his shirt so he could roam his bare stomach, and said in a husky voice:

“Stop fat-shaming my dog and come back to bed. She’s already gotten her treats. Now it’s my turn.”

Alex turned around in his embrace, pulled him even closer so they were only a breath away and looking into each other’s eyes. Then, and only then he rolled his eyes, deliberately and dramatically, he even shook his head a little for extra effect: “Her puppy eyes, your cheeky lines. You both only have ONE move. It’s getting old real fast.”

Well, since Buffy and he both got their treats even before breakfast, he’d have to respectfully disagree.

———————————

One time he walked in on them, snuggled up in bed, and Alex was telling her about his Lizard while SHOWING HER SOME PICTURES too.

“I think you and Willow would have made great friends.” He said, a little wistful, but mostly happy, smile evident in his voice.

Buffy made a low grunting sound in her throat as if she agreed.

———————————

They went to the fair thing regularly now, like some old couple. Forrest secretly liked it. But the catch was, whenever they went there, Alex ended up buying Buffy way too many toys, clothes or little hats. It was getting ridiculous.

“Alex, this is like, the third chew bone in this month alone. She really doesn’t need it.” Forrest whined, knowing perfectly well he was fighting a losing battle.

To his surprise though, Alex dropped the bone (Buffy turned to Forrest to give him the stink eye but he ignored her like a champ), and picked a fluffy teddy instead, which, ok, slightly better, but SO NOT THE POINT.

But Alex showed it to Buffy, she gave a happy wiggling, and next thing he knew, Alex was already paying for it.

Forrest shook his head. “You don’t ever get to say I’m spoiling her again. You are like, the most doting dad ever.”

They both froze at that.

Then Alex looked down at Buffy, smiled softly, and said, “I just like seeing her happy”. He looked up again, still all soft, reached out and held Forrest’s hand. “If that makes me a doting dad, so be it.”

—————————

He changed his screensaver on his phone to a picture of Buffy hugging the teddy that night.

—————————

Alex’s ex (the ex from his military days, not the one still didn’t show up in Forrest’s presence) came to Roswell one day, he called Alex, so the three of them were having a slightly uncomfortable but overall pleasant get-together.

The ex (Bill or something) was charming, funny and friendly. He obviously didn’t hang up on Alex like some other ex so that was a plus, but he sometimes still had heat in his eyes when Alex was smiling beautifully so Forrest decided to dislike him just in principle.

The dislike quickly turned to annoyance when Bill (or something) brought up his dog.

“By the way, Charlie whined when I told him I was gonna see you and I couldn’t bring him along. I guess he still misses you.”

Alex smiled politely, “I miss him too.”

“Please”, the ex snorted, “You never really warmed up to him. You were nice to him, sure, he loved you for it. But you were just not that fond of him. I always assume maybe you’re not a dog person or something.”

OK so the ex was apparently a clueless douche. Alex was the definition of a dog person in Forrest’s opinion. He opened his mouth to just say that when a hand on his knee squeezed to stop him.

“Yeah, maybe.” Alex replied, polite smile firmly in place.

The topic didn’t come up again until B-something left.

“So you wanna explain yourself, Mr Clearly-You-Are-A-Dog-Person?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just accept that Buffy is an exception to my not-loving-dogs rule?”

Forrest pretended to consider for a second.

“Though it is a fact that Buffy is the cutest girl on earth and she can pretty much win anybody over, I know it’s not the case. So spill. Was Charlie like, secretly hating you but pretended to like you in front of his dad?”

Alex choked on his milkshake. “What terrible world do you live in? With this level of dog conspiracy?”

It was a deflecting move if he’d ever seen one. So he just waited.

After a minute, Alex caved.

“It was not Charlie. It was Blake.” OK, not Bill then.

“Me and Blake, we had this on and off relationship. At first it was just some fun, blowing off steam, some actions in the shadow, that kind of things. But it got somewhat more serious as the time passed. He was local based, so when we had leaves, we would sometimes go to his house to spend time together.”

“Charlie was usually with his sister, but Blake would bring him home during his leaves. So whenever I spent time there, Charlie was always with us.”

He paused, a fond smile for the dog, and continued, “He liked me instantly, and I liked him too. Like you said, I am a dog person, I like dogs, dogs like me.”

Forrest was confused. “So why...?”

Alex sighed. “I liked Charlie, but I couldn’t let myself get attached to him. Because I didn’t see myself stay in the relationship with Blake for a long time. So if I got too attached, and the breakup inevitably happened, it would be too hard for me to handle.”

OK, that was understandable. But meanwhile, that would mean...

The realization hit Forrest like a train he was totally dumbstruck.

Alex seemed to sense his surprise, and blushed. But he didn’t stop talking.

“I opened myself completely to Buffy, because I feel completely safe and steady when I’m with you. I don’t worry about losing her, because I don’t worry about losing you.”

Forrest swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, kissed Alex, and touched their forehead together.

“Do you think we should just rename her to Buffy Long-Manes?”

Alex laughed. “That is such a terrible name.”

He kissed back. “But I like it.”

#the scene I described (selfishly) in this chapter about Alex cuddling with Buffy #is from the insta pic Tyler once posted #where he cuddled with Dylan #it's the cutest thing #forlex #forlex fic #5+1 things #my fic

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twodogsoneguy · 4 years

Text

I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone this much. Like. Athena was my best friend, of course, but her first and foremost job was keeping me safe as my service dog. She was always with me or within calling distance downstairs, and now I’m just alone. Yeah, there’s Harley but she doesn’t really task anymore and is more a glorified ESA than anything else.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Har. But she isn’t Athena, and never will compare to her. Athena would come up to me seemingly out of the blue and just rest her giant head with those big brown eyes staring at me, telling me things would be ok and it was like I could finally breathe. She alerted to me being not myself before I even realize I was having an episode, was always there when I needed a cuddle or some kisses or to do DPT when I was really bad. She interrupted my spirals and kept me focused on the present rather than whatever was going on in my head. She always walked on my left side because my eye isn’t so good on that side, kept people from sneaking up on me so I didn’t get scared.

I know I’ll have to move on eventually, that at some point I’m going to get another prospect who’ll hopefully be as good as she was. But there’s a hole in my house right now, an empty spot where her kennel was, a chunk missing out of my soul. Grieving is a process and I know it takes time but I always thought I’d have my baby girl for the next time I was going through this, not that I’d be grieving for her. Two and a half years wasn’t nearly enough time with her, I feel so guilty for saying that bc most renal dysplasia dogs are lucky to make it 18mo but she was supposed to be here for a decade, maybe more. I should’ve had kids, time to prepare for her sucessor and actually say goodbye.

I feel so cheated that I didn’t get any of those things. I wanted her to be the flower girl at my wedding, to take her to Disney and museums and all the places I haven’t been able to go since I got so bad. She won’t get to do those things now, and I know ultimately she doesn’t care that she didn’t, I do. I care so fucking much and I don’t know what to do with these emotions.

Losing a pet sucks. Losing a service animal is like losing a child, if your child was also a medical device that allowed you to have freedom you originally thought was impossible. Not only did I lose my best friend, I lost what made me safe. I lost my independence and the safety net that meant people didn’t worry about me so much. People are worried about me right now like they haven’t been since I got Athena, tiptoeing around like I’m surrounded by glass. I feel surrounded by glass, honestly, like every move I make makes everything hurt worse, being stabbed by thousands of tiny pricks.

I miss her so much. I am trying to keep moving, trying to feed myself and take care of me, but it’s hard. It’s so fucking hard when I’m missing something so vital. Harley’s been going nuts too, she knows Athena has passed but you can tell in the way she keeps looking in the places where Athena usually hung out that she misses her sister. She’s been more clingy than usual, less of a fiend for food and more mopey, just kinda laying around. While my fiancé was here, she just cuddled between the two of us, which is so unlike her. She wasn’t constantly bothering us like she would normally, usually she’s either trying to get us to feed her or let her outside and she hasn’t been. Right now she’s laying on one of my pillows, asleep at midday.

I’ve got....nothing, really at this point. This is uncharted territory for me as a trainer, because I’ve never lost a dog that was mine. At some point I’ll tell the story of how I almost lost Har, and how I had a breakdown but it was nothing compared to this. I think I’m going to continue updating this blog, tho idk how professional or training focused it gonna be. There’s gonna be a lot of my grief processing on here. I’m also gonna be working on resocializing Harley, hopefully, in the coming months to get her ready for when puppy comes home. I still don’t have a prospect, haven’t been able to bring myself to call Athena’s breeder about any of this. She’s aware of what happened, has been there for me through text but I haven’t been able to pick up the phone yet. Mostly because I know all I have for her right now is ugly sobbing and a request to get on her waitlist, which honestly can wait until this wound feels less raw. I’m gonna.......clean some stuff maybe. Or watch tv or play some video games. Try and occupy my mind a bit.

#athena #service dog #harley #dealing with grief

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

Sam x Reader

Summary: Sam meets Y/N at her brother's funeral and finds a life he didn't know he could fit into.

Warnings: Death of a sibling, death of a child, smut, fluff

Beta: @ilikaicalie

They roll into town just as fall is turning the forest bronze on the east coast. It’s a picturesque New England town, charming stores along the main street and townsfolk preparing for the last tourist invasion of the year. All while the trees fight to keep their tresses in the nippy autumn sky.

171 W. Bluebell Lane

The Kingston house looks like a brick castle that should be made of gingerbread and gumdrops. It’s a three-story colonial house, framed by a white picket fence and moated by way of a well-manicured lawn.

“Places like this always freak me out.” Dean laments, pulling at the knot of his tie.

Sam just chuckles.

Sam dreamed of growing up in a home like this. As a boy he imagined stable, safe families eating well-balanced meals together in ghoul-free dining rooms across America. Those dreams faded quickly as his dad tossed him a box of hostess cupcakes into the back seat of the Impala.

They have to park a couple blocks away. There’s a steady stream of black-clad mourners making their way up the front walk. Sam’s glad they wore the suits, Dean fought for something more casual but this seems more appropriate.

Sam wishes they would have brought a casserole or flowers. Anything to help him feel more reverent. They’ve been to plenty of wakes before, but the ones for children are always the worst - they make his gut ache.

There’s a larger-than-life picture of the kid set up in the living room. A cheerful five-year-old boy smiling wide and full of life.

He doesn’t want to be there. It’s been months of close quarters and hard motel mattresses. He and Dean are brothers, nothing will break that bond, but they both need to get the fuck away from each other. Sam’s had a dull headache for a week now, a tender throb in his temple he thinks he might be able to sooth if he could just get a moment to himself, just an elusive moment of silence.

Dean wanders off into the sea of somber faces and Sam makes his way into the backyard to check things out. It’s a cold blustery day, the wind is rattling the chains on the empty swing set, making a metal on metal clank that strikes a chord, like a tolling bell for mortality.

Sam shakes off the chill and sits down on the picnic table, taking a moment for himself. It’s a delicious second of peace he typically doesn’t snag, that is until she bursts out the back door. She almost trips down the steps, sniffling and dabbing at her nose with a kleenex as she steadies herself on the iron railing.

She’s wearing a frilly little dress, something that a younger girl might wear for a birthday party, except this one is all black.

By the time she notices Sam, she’s already barreling in his direction. She looks hesitant but sits down beside him anyway. He thinks she’s probably a knock out when her nose isn’t leaking like a sieve and red-raw from crying. She rubs bloodshot eyes with her thumb and index finger before wiping at her nose.

“Hey,” she whispers, giving him a good once-over as she tugs at the hem of her dress. The skirt is too short, doing a less than adequate job of covering her legs. She’s tall and her long legs are bare and he can see the tiny goosebumps on her thighs. He forces himself to look her in the face.

“I’m Sam.” He offers gingerly.

“Y/N.” She forces a smile that quickly breaks as she bursts into tears.

“Are you okay?” Sam frowns, instantly regretting the question. He’s nervous, that hasn’t happened in a while.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m a fucking mess.” She stops to wipe tears off her rosy cheeks. It hits Sam like a ton of bricks; she’s the older sister, the person they came to talk to.

She’s the one who was there when the kid, her brother, died.

Dean showed him a photo of her yesterday but it must have been old because he wasn’t prepared for this breathtaking woman who’s falling apart in front of him.

“I don’t want to go back in there,” she hiccups, looking at the house. Shaking her head, rogue tears slide from the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t either,” he confides.

“It’s so damn cold out here, move a little closer.” She commands and Sam doesn’t know what to make of her when she raises his arm up and wriggles against his side, laughing through tears. “I’m usually not this confident, you must think I’m a nut job.”

“It’s fine, it is cold out…you’re dealing with a lot. I think you get a free pass for this one.” He shrugs, letting his armrest gently on her shoulders.

“I’m gonna miss him so much.” She wrings her hands, her face crumpling in that nasty way when there’s too much pain as her cheeks blush even rosier. “This hurts so bad,” she whispers as if it stings to talk and then sobs into her hands so relentlessly that eventually, she doubles over.

One of her legs is pressed against his thigh, a naked soft leg that he wants to reach out to touch.

She sniffles.

He feels like a tactless pervert.

Sam stays with her until the tips of his ears go numb. He thinks about how much it hurt when he lost Dean. That raw throbbing in his chest he was convinced would kill him (for a while he wished it had). He wants to help her but it’s better to not get involved. They won't be around that long.

Sam tells her he’s a private investigator. She nods but he can see she doesn’t give two shits about anything other than her own nauseating grief.

The wind picks up and Sam’s so cold he shakes, teeth chattering his skull. She pulls away and he assumes she’s about to apologize for keeping him outside. Instead her eyes narrow and she groans. “I’m gonna puke.”

Jogging towards the house she offers one final glance back at him as she opens the back door. “Thanks, Sam!”

She’s not at the funeral. Dean stays there and Sam goes to find her.

Sam wanders on the front lawn of her parent's house for a half hour, stomping dead leaves and trying to determine exactly what’s wrong with him that he can’t bring himself to knock on the door like a normal person.

He’s done this a thousand times before.

After watching him pace back and forth through fallen leaves like a lumbering giant Y/N opens up the front door and calls out to him. “What are you doing?”

He tells her the truth. Tells her he came back to check on her, that he can’t stop thinking about her pain. She looks significantly better than the day before, but her eyes are still red and lips chapped. And she’s still holding onto a box of Kleenex like it might save her life.

Sam sits next to her on jack-o-lantern sheets in Wes’ bedroom. She explains that he loved Halloween. He watches her as she traces one of the pumpkins on his child size pillow. Dragging the pillow into her lap she presses her face into it.

“It still smells like him,” she whispers.

“Y/N...what exactly happened?”

She doesn’t hesitate.

“He wanted me to read to him in the pile of leaves we raked in the front yard. Wes was nuts about this one book, The House of Boo, his favorite. So he sat in my lap and we read and then he just kinda, slumped back into me. I thought he was cuddling at first or maybe he fell asleep. They told me his heart just…stopped”

“Oh, God.” Sam murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”

“I never thought I’d have a little brother, no one did. I mean, I’m almost twenty years older…”

Sam could tell her, but it’s better than she never knows what actually happened to Wes. There’s no reason to tear her world apart.

When he leaves that day he’s prepared to say his goodbyes and walk away for good. But she calls to him down the driveway.

“Can I see you again?”

Sam sees Y/N more or less every night for a month. After a couple of days she starts crying less and talking more. They go to dinner, to the movies, to the bookstore. It’s boring and normal and Sam loves every second of it.

She’s charming and delicate and witty. She makes him laugh. She’s holding his hand while she dances and sings in the isle at the midnight viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

She’s a terrible choice for his life, she’s afraid of everything; spiders, big dogs, horror movies, meteorites hitting the earth. He can’t help but feel a thrill run up his spine when she walks closer to him at night, finding a warm, safe place at his side, under his arm.

When she works up the nerve to sleep in her own house for the first time since her brother died, Sam stays with her. They spend most of the night in the kitchen talking about tv shows from their childhood and where they’d travel if they could go anywhere in the world.

“My grandmother left me this house,” she smiles softly sitting next to him at the dining room table. “When I first moved in it felt like coming home.”

“It doesn’t anymore?”

Sam’s ears perk up when she tells him she thinks it’s haunted.

“It’s strange, Wes loved it here, he’d spend every Friday night with me. Sam...I still see him sometimes, I know it sounds crazy but when I was here yesterday it’s like I could feel him. And I have these dreams, vivid fucking dreams that I swear are real. “You probably think I’m nuts, huh?”

“You never know.” He nods. “But I don’t think you’re nuts.”

She’s got this happy, tired grin on her face when Sam kisses her for the first time. Just the press of his lips, unobtrusive and sweet.

She laughs against his mouth, pulls away and laughs out loud.

“I’m sorry,” shaking her head she reaches for his hand. “You just make me really happy Sam, that’s all. I haven’t felt like it was ok to be happy for a long time.”

“I know what you mean.” He leans in to kiss her again and this time he laughs too.

It’s late, they’d been to a movie and had a few drinks and end up making out on her front porch like teenagers. Sam unceremoniously dry humps her, the two of them fully clothed as he grinds the bulge in his pants between her legs.

“Take me inside.” She pants, his mouth sealing over hers before she can even finish.

“You sure you want me to stay?” He double checks, big, warm thumbs rubbing over both her cheeks.

“I’m sure.”

They make it as far as the living room couch.

Sam paws at her jeans, yanking her panties off right along with them. She’s still standing when he drops to his knees and buries his head between her legs.

She makes these little sounds, moaning his name with a fist full of his hair as he tongues her clit.

“Sam,” she tugs at his hair, bringing him back up to kiss her.

She’s breathless and the sound of his name coming from her mouth is something he’s imagined for a while. He slides his tongue into her mouth, swallowing whimpers as she tastes herself on his mouth.

Sitting him on the couch, she takes a condom and rolls it on his swollen erection before crawling into his lap. Sam just watches, making little grunts of approval when she reaches for his cock, wrapping her hand around the shaft as she presses the throbbing head of his cock against her hot, wet little pussy. She screws her eyes shut, soft hands grasping at his shoulders as she sinks down on him so slowly, inch by inch until her resolve falters and she sinks down, taking him all the way into her belly.

Her whole body moves up and down as she fucks herself on his cock, kissing him desperately.

“Oh God, Sam,” she moans as he pulls at her hips, holding her place. Sam can feel her stretched wide open, the most delicate part of her shivering on his cock. All he has to do is look down to get an eye full of her slick cunt stuffed full. They both start to move, Sam fucking up into her with the soft slap of their bodies coming together.

Between kisses, she says his name again and again, like a mantra while her curvy little hips work back and forth on his dick. Sam fucks her faster, watching her tits bounce, nipples grazing his chest as her pussy takes every inch.

Without a second of hesitation, he lifts her off his cock, ignoring her protest as he spreads her open underneath him and eases his cock back inside. His rhythm grows faster, skin smacking skin with every stroke. He doesn’t say a word that first time, just listens to his own grunts, her pants and the pornographic sounds of sex that seem obscenely loud. It takes everything in him to stay on task, every ounce of self-control not to come like a kid on prom night before she’s satisfied.

She comes around him, shaking like a one-woman earthquake under the weight of his body. Sam follows right behind her, coming with his face pressed into her neck, making embarrassing desperate sounds.

Sam holds her, soft nude thighs laying over his hips. He whispers things he knows he shouldn’t say, he tells her that he hasn’t wanted anyone as much as he wants her.

He almost tells her about Jess.

When he wakes up the next morning they’re still on the couch. The absurdly thin quilt he pulled off the armchair is barely covering her ass but her sleep-warm body is pressed into his side, calm in the lull of sleep.

Sam thinks he could be happy here in this house with her.

The time comes, as it always does, for he and Dean to move on. Sam is standing on her porch with a backpack slung over his shoulder, trying to find the right words for goodbye when she takes his hand between hers and says the magic word.

“Stay.”

This drabble was available on Patreon on 1/28. For early access to my fics and Patreon exclusive content, subscribe for $2 a month CLICK HERE

Tags: @smallgirlbigpersonality @mereka18 @gryffindorable713 @trainlikeawinchester @winchesterprincessbride @bamby0304 @saxxxology @notyourtypicalrose @mariekoukie6661 @little-big-mac2 @emoryhemsworth @mystriee @atc74 @holyfuckloueh @bunnybaby121115 @mogaruke @darkmystress00 @jaspesangriento @kazuha159 @mirandaaustin93 @crispychrissy @schilj79 @wilde-abandon @hennessy0274-blog @bojabee @miss-samantha-winchester @impalaimagining-mainblog @andkatiethings @astephez @ladycynthia @mrswhozeewhatsis @lenawiinchester @feelmyroarrrr @mrs-meghan-winchester @har-rystyles @mistressofallthingsgeeky @theamuz @maui137 @stars-and-seas @vale0413 @impala67trenchcoat @curly-haired-disaster @ericaprice2008 @livelikeawinchester @althehufflepuff @itsthesamegametoday @bohowitch @spnwoman @just-a-normal-eccentric @gallifreyansass @StoneyGGirl @lonely-skys @81mysteriouslyme @missrandomista @soupornatural @stars-and-seas @natura1phenomenon @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @81mysteriouslyme @likhelbentin @mrooks0205 @zombiewerewolfqueen @winchesterprincessbride @squirrel-moose-winchester @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @closetspngirl @dominodoll @rainflowermoon @cleighwrites @camelotandastronauts @imarockstar45 @thebeastinside19 @courtney-padalecki @itsthesamegametoday @virtualgirlfriendsan @daisymoder72 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @mysticmcu @luciferseclipse @malinda1997

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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noonewouldlisten25 · 6 years

Text

I Promise

First of all.

*CLANGS POTS AND PANS TOGETHER BECAUSE THIS IS NOT MY STORY*

Anywho, with that out of the way, no. This is not mine. This fic was written by my sister @seroia45, who, as she is never logged on, gave me express permission to post this to my blog to share it. This is the first completed fic she has wrote in a long time and would appreciate any kind feedback/criticism.

Now then, let’s begin!

Summary: Hank would never intentionally lie to Cole. And never, in any possible universe, would he intentionally break a promise he made to his little boy.

SPOILERS AHOY

It was Cole’s first day of Kindergarten. Hank’s hair was thrown up into a messy bun, and he was hurriedly trying to wrangle his five-year-old into something more presentable than his pajama’s. Cole, in his excitement and paranoia, had already spilled his orange juice twice, gotten frustrated with his clumsiness, and loudly declared that he was NOT going to school today.

“Cole, you’re going to school today. It’s your first day! There’s no way you can miss your first day of school, buddy!” Hank was exasperated, but he understood that his little boy was not exactly the most social of butterflies. Cole looked up at him, his big brown eyes full of nervousness.

“But Daddy, what if the other kids don’t like me? What if I do something silly and everyone makes fun of me?” The gap in his teeth made his speech slightly lisped, but Hank understood him just fine. He crouched down to eye level with Cole, smiled gently, and ruffled up his hair.

“There’s no way that the other kids wont like you, Bud. You’re the sweetest, funniest, most handsomest boy your age! There’ll be boys and girls begging to be your friend!”

Cole looked up at his dad in exaggerated exasperation. “Daaaad, you’re just saying that cause you have to..”

Hank grinned widely. “Would I ever lie to you?”

The young boy paused a moment and considered the question. “No, I guess not.”

Hank beamed and scooped his son into a hug. “See? You’ve got nothin’ to worry about!”

Cole looked up at him with a timid little smile. “Promise?”

Hank kissed his nose. “I promise.” --- At the sound of crying, Hank rushed into Cole’s room. His hair was disheveled from where he had fallen asleep on the couch after tucking his boy into bed, and his shirt was covered in dog fur from cuddling a Saint Bernard puppy they had picked up that evening. Cole, the silly boy, had decided to name him Sumo.

Cole was sitting awake in his bed when Hank came in, tears streaming down his face and trembling with the force of his soft sobs. The poor boy was prone to nightmares, and this was no new scenario for Hank to walk in on. He walked over to his son’s bed and sat down, pulling the boy into a comforting hug.

“Nightmares again?” he asked, gently rocking the distraught child. Cole looked up at him, the tears in his eyes making his eyes shinier than they normally were. He nodded softly and buried his face in his father’s chest. Hank gently stroked his hair. “Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better.”

Cole sniffled quietly and looked up at him, his bottom lip quivering softly as he tried to speak. “It w-was cold, and I c-c-couldn’t find you anywhere… I was lost, and I was scared..”

Hank held his son closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “It was just a scary dream, buddy. I’m right here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The boy in his arms hiccupped softly, “P-Promise?”

“I promise.” --- The smell of antiseptic and the bright white walls were making Hank nauseous. He couldn’t get the noise of the truck slamming into his car out of his head. Couldn’t get the sound of his baby boy crying out of his head. The snow had been stained crimson, and that was all he could see projected on the hospital walls. The android in charge of overseeing his son’s operation walked out, looking grim.

“Mr. Anderson?”

Hank’s stomach dropped into the soles of his shoes. He knew that voice. He’s a cop. He’s had to use that voice on several occasions. That’s the voice of someone tasked with delivering bad news. The kind of news no one wants to give, and the kind of news that no one wanted to hear. “Cole’s not going to make it. Is he.”

The android gave him a sympathetic look and set a gentle hand on his arm. “He’s lost too much blood, and the nearest donor is two cities away. He wouldn’t survive the trip over. All we can do now is make him comfortable. He’s awake and asking for you. I’m sorry.”

Hank had tunnel vision as he walked into his little boy’s hospital room. Cole looked so frail and small against the sheets. He barely looked up as his father entered his room. Hank felt hot tears sting his eyes and forced a smile onto his face. “Hey there, bud.”

“I’m cold, Daddy. I’m cold and tired.” His voice was weaker than he looked, and Hank could feel his heart breaking into smaller and smaller pieces. He laid down and cuddled his baby as close to him as he could without jostling any of the many things he was hooked up to.

“I’m here, Cole. I’m right here, and I’m not gonna let you go. Daddy’s gonna keep you safe, just like he promised.”

“I’m so tired, Daddy..” Cole was already fighting to keep his eyes open, and Hank didn’t want to let him see him break down. He pressed a soft kiss to his hair.

“It’s alright, buddy. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll.. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise…”

“Okay.. Night night, Daddy.. I’ll see you in the morning..”

“G’night baby… I love you, so much.”

It took three different androids to get Hank to let the coroner take Cole away. --- It was raining, but Hank didn’t care. He was sitting in the grass, a bottle of jack in his hand. One year. It had already been a whole year since he had to bury his baby boy. He felt the alcohol sting his throat, raw from screaming and cursing at any deity that would listen. Sumo, the poor thing, had tucked his tail between his legs and hid under the couch. His human hadn’t had an outburst like this since the day the little human didn’t come back. Once the screaming stopped, Sumo had hesitantly crept up and nuzzled up to his human. He didn’t understand why, but he knew his human was hurting, and he wanted to help as much as he could. Hank had buried his face in the dog’s fur and cried until he just felt numb.

“I miss you, buddy. The house is too quiet without you. Haven’t had the heart to go into your room since that day.” He dragged his arm over his eyes, wiping away the moisture that was beginning to gather there. “Sumo misses you too. He sniffs at your door and stares at it, like he’s waiting for you to walk out and play with him again. Some days, he’ll sit there for hours. Then he’ll jump up and just stare at your door for a few minutes, and I catch myself thinking that you’re gonna come out. Sometimes.. Sometimes I forget that you’re gone. Went to pick you up from school the other day. Made it all the way there before I remembered.”

He took another long pull from the bottle in his hand and made to stand up. He rested his hand on the marble in front of him and let the tears fall down his face. “I’m going to become the best damn cop on the force, and I’m going to make Red Ice a thing of the past, buddy. I won’t let anyone else go through the same thing we had to.”

The silence stretched out into the night, and his tears tripped to the dirt below as a sad smile stretched across his face.

“I promise.” --- It had been a long time since Hank had come this way, and it had been even longer since he had come here with someone else. He cast a sideways glance at the android in the passenger seat as he pulled up. Connor’s LED was spiraling yellow in thought.

“Ya getting’ out or not, kid?”

“Yes, of course, I apologize, Lieutenant.”

He wasn’t entirely sure why he brought Connor here with him. Wasn’t entirely sure that Connor would even understand the significance of the action itself. But they were here, and there was no turning back from this now. The snow crunched under their feet as they walked through the rows of headstones. Connor’s LED swirled between yellow and red as they came up to a smaller, newer headstone. It read:

In Loving Memory Cole Anderson 9/23/2029- 10/11/2035

Connor looked at Hank in shock, surprised his partner was sharing such a private moment with him. A sad smile passed over the lieutenant’s features as he rested a hand on the cold marble slab.

“Hey there, buddy. I know, it’s been a while since I visited. I haven’t been doing so well, and I needed to get back on my feet. There’s someone I want you to meet. I think you two would’ve gotten along, if you’d ever met him. This is Connor. He’s my partner at work, and a really good friend of mine. He’s.. He’s helped me get better. It doesn’t hurt so much to think about you anymore. I was finally able to clean out your room. I still miss you. I always will. But thanks to this tin can.. I’m going to be okay. It’s gonna be a bit longer than I planned before I see you again, but.. That’s not such a bad thing.”

Connor gently squeezed his partners shoulder in reassurance and paused. He crouched, so he was eye-level with the engraving on the stone and rested his hand over the words.

“Hello, Cole. When I met your father, I was just.. Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife. I had one purpose. I was just a machine. But your dad made me see that I was so much more than that. Without him, I wouldn’t be here right now. I would’ve completed my mission, and then Cyberlife would’ve had me deactivated. I am alive because of your father. And I’m going to spend as long as I have repaying him for that. You don’t have to worry about him, Cole. I’m going to take good care of him."

"I promise.”

Hank would never intentionally lie to Cole. And never, in any universe, would he intentionally break a promise to his little boy.

And now, neither would Connor.

#Detroit: Become Human #d:bh #cole anderson #Hank Anderson #connor dbh #RK-800 #fanfiction #not mine #seroia45

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venomousxdanger · 6 years

Text

Sex and Feelings (finished)

CM Punk/Dean Ambrose

Three hours. It was only three hours. He couldn’t go to the arena but Phil could make the drive from Chicago to Indianapolis for some actual face time. Waiting through the hours of Raw with the drive, he was able to walk up to the room without any knowledge of what happened within the company. Once he knocked, it was harder to ignore as a drained looking blond answered. “I drive for three hours and you’re not happy to see me?” The hurt he felt as the door was left open for him was pushed down; something was wrong. “You gonna tell me?” The little bottles were lined up from the mini bar but still full. The larger beer bottles on the floor were a different story. “Didn’t I tell you I was showing up? Why are you drinking?” His eyes scanned the room. “How’d you get the room to yourself?” Jon couldn’t handle the questions, shooting a glare at the tattooed one. “I booked it. I wanted to be alone. Didn’t you see what happened? The Shield’s over. They gave us some bullshit storyline and Seth’s getting a heel push and… everything… everything sucks.” The venting made it clear that alone time wasn’t what the younger man wanted. Sometimes it was easy to overlook just how fragile his puppy was. “That sucks. C'mere.” He sat on the bed and forced the other with him. Taking the gum from his mouth, it was place in Dean’s. “Chew. I’m not kissing a beer tap tonight.” The other began to chew through the mint while Punk continued to talk. “The company is screwed up. They do what they want to get their rocks off and if it ‘shakes things up’ they think it’ll always work in their favor.” It was a big deciding factor to walking when he did. “Speaking of getting off…” His lips climbed slowly up the blond’s neck to seek out the earring he’d sell his soul for.

Jon groaned with a crack of a whimper. It wasn’t exactly his normal needy whimper but it uncharacteristically fit him. It was sweet and broken with a little sense of hope. If it didn’t break his heart, he’d want a ringtone of it. The black lettering of ‘free’ was tangled in the drying strands in a sort of petting stroke. A path was pulled back down the pulsing flesh by his teeth. There was a light stubble challenging the smooth baby face appearance he had on screen. It was only suppose to be a playful little nip but licking over the skin was a teasing taste and soon a bite was placed over the shoulder well. The sexual side of his mind took over before he realized Dean had happily sighed and he was sucking at wet copper because the skin had broke. Letting the moment wash over him, he moaned against the raising drops pumping from the superstar’s heart. Cameras were hell in the business. Any marks left by relationships were 'requested’ to stay covered so Punk got some acupuncture lessons and Dean’s thicker vest usually covered it. Getting too lost in his head was always a downfall around Jon and tonight was no different as he was pushed back on the bed and the flavor was lost. The sadness had fell to anger in the blues looking at him. He loved the kicked puppy look on the kid but it was only one of many looks he had. And, as long as it wasn’t anger towards him, it was actually hot to see. So hot that he didn’t mind the zipper of his hoodie being torn off the chain or the short nails that clawed up his torso while his shirt was pushed up.

The glowing red lines formed from the 'straight edge’ ink to rake upwards to the responsive nipples. The tattoos and the emotional pain Dean had been feeling came out with another claw down the unchanged body. Punk might have said he was doing something with the time off but there was no visible changes from the last time they were together. Part of Dean hated him or that but most of him needed something constant to help stabilize his world. Tears burned his eyes before they were hidden with a duck of his head. Eye level with the 'vomit wave from the skull’ tattoo; Dean smirked. Voicing the thought on the design cost him the front seat a few years ago but after being happy to nap in the back, the design flaw had been mentioned without consequences. Maybe Punk noticed how much the kid liked it.

-Flashback- Sitting at lunch with Paul and Colby, the two were talking about being a 'street mutt’. It hadn’t been an argument because they were laughing as they threw insults at each other. Leaving Seth to wonder and Paul to a call. “If people only heard you two- they’d think you would end up killing each other.” At the time, Seth pushed back his blond patch. “I may be a street mutt but he loves me.” Phil looked up at the words with a shrug. “I like the earring, the face just came as a package deal.” Dean smiled. “I like the puking skull and got stuck with the body.” They were minor details but said everything about their relationships. It wasn’t about money or fame- they liked the little things that made the other who he was.

Dean licked down the surfaced blood begging to escape until he reached the jeans. “What happened to me being in charge?” Light brown eyes glanced down in question. Without a word, the street dog undid the button. “You could’ve said you wanted the lead. I don’t mind letting you do the work.” The casual attitude struck a nerve with Jon. Now the man had learned to go with the flow? He couldn’t have known that lesson four months ago? Fed up with it, his knees trapped the other’s hips as he sat on against on Phil’s thighs. His palms were press hard along the Chicagoan’s chest until a his attention was back on the pecs. Pinching sweetly soon turned rough as his wrist was turned. It would have been painful but sadomasochism was common ground for their relationship. “That long drive tire you out, old man?” Punk’s back arched a little higher out of strategy as his hand wrapped around Ambrose’s arm to force him on the bed. “Not too tired to best you, kid.” Jon rolled his eyes before leaning up on an elbow only to be pushed back down. Blues sparked downwards to where Punk’s hands were finishing the job of undoing his pants. “Say it, Ambrose.” His cock was pulled out. “Tell me I’m still the best in the world.” Dean licked his lips and tried to turn over to his stomach. “Say it.” Jon started with his own jeans. “Prove you are.” The challenge was made. Thankfully, he was able to undo his pants before he spoke. Feeling an arm press against his neck and a hand grab the back of his jeans, the blond lifted his hips in anticipation of the pull at them that followed.

Feeling the hands on him was nothing compared to the scruff scrapping against the back of his thighs as Punk ran his tongue slowly over his hole. "Fuck you. You're taking too long." Phil stopped and knelt up from his work. "I'm trying to be loving, prick." Jon rolled his stomach up and his ass back impatiently. "If I wanted loving, I would have done it myself and finished with a mouthful of Skittles." The Chicagoan shook his head before spitting down at the puckered opening. "Next time you're expecting me to rim you, I'm gonna remind you were were too much of a brat to have me do it now." As he spoke, his knees dipped into the bed between Dean's legs. "Anyone tell you you talk too much?" The head of his cock was held against the glob of saliva. "Everyday of my life." Pushing past the resistance, Dean's body immediately gave to the slightly lighter weight of Punk's. A happy huff escaped the blond.

The first couple of thrusts were used as a trap to get Jon to react. It was little things to start with. There was more of an effort to look back. Then a hand reached back to try to pull Phil closer against him. The counterattack to being grabbed at was the artful hands pinning the lunatic's touch to the bed. "Ambrose..." A displeased tone didn't completely conceal the sex clinging from it. Knowing it was getting to Punk more than he ever wanted to let on, Dean jerked his hips in rhythm to meet back against Phil. The speed was about to earn the younger one a some of the control when the designed fingers met on Jon's lower back. Pushing the Superstar to the mattress, the free talent slowed to an agonizing pace. "What'd I just say?" The pelvis wiggled to get free but the action worked against him causing the momentary sub to drop his head with a whimper. Still didn't stop him from being a smart ass. "My stage name?" A deep laugh gave the Ohioan a pass and the pace picked up again.

-Skip because writing sex scenes by yourself gets repetitive and boring-

As the moans and grunts continued, Punk's thrust became more erratic and they both knew he was close. Bringing a knee to the outside of Dean's body, his position twisted enough to plunge a little deeper. "FUCK!" Dean's hand was free to dig into the knee along his side. The warmth was in volumes both inside him and angled on his stomach as they both came. Dry spasms and chest heaving, Punk dropped to the bed to reach for his shirt. "It's like I'm being punished." As happy as Jon looked, he sounded that sad. "Huh?" A clothed fist stroked down his cock to clean himself but he stopped at the vocalized feelings. "You left, they're taking away The Shield, everything's different. They didn't even give me time." The fabric was laid over his thigh and an arm brought the other form in a hug. He hadn't thought about it. When Dean had started complaining, Punk figured it was all work. Though when he thought through it, The Shield hadn't even been on the main roster for 500 days before he left the company. And now, 127 days later- the kid was losing all of his comfort zones. "I'm sorry." Dean smiled and cuddled closer. "I get it. It's not okay and I'm not gonna say I'm fine with it but I get it."

#cm punk #dean ambrose #punkbrose #fanfic

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quickeningheart · 5 years

Text

Seven

Alley managed to dig up enough ingredients to throw together a decent breakfast, making a mental note to buy extra food the next time she made a grocery run. She had a feeling that taking meals with Charley’s furry house guests was a regular occurrence, but she’d be damned if she ended up living on hot dogs and root beer like the rest of them. Luckily, Vivian Davidson was an amazing cook and had managed to pass a fair amount of skill on to her daughter. Grocery shopping, cooking regular meals, and cleaning the apartment seemed like a fair exchange for room and board, in Alley’s opinion. She cracked eggs into a bowl and added milk, butter, a touch of salt. However, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets in search of a mixer left her empty-handed.

“Do you have an electric mixer?” she called to Charley, who was still on the couch nursing her wounded foot. The mice were gathered there with her, watching television. And like before, Charley had made herself cozy, all cuddled up to the white mouse. Alley’s eyes narrowed as she watched them.

Charley didn’t seem to notice her cousin’s disapproval. “I used to,” she replied. “It ran into an accident a few months ago and I never got a replacement.”

Alley snorted. “I see. And is ‘accident’ code for ‘giant hairy Martian’, by chance?”

The mice immediately protested, but Charley just laughed. “You learn fast.”

Alley sighed. “Right. Old-fashioned way it is.” She grabbed a fork from the drawer and began beating her egg mixture into a frothy whip, pouring the mess into the extra-large fry pan heating on the stove. The beat-up pan hissed and sputtered, and she shook her head. “No offense, Charley, but all of your cookware is in serious need of an upgrade. Where did you get this thing, a toy store?”

“Nah. I dug it out of a dumpster a few years ago. Perfectly good frying pan!” Charley teased.

“Okay, that had better be a joke, ‘cause ew .” Alley shot her a disgusted glance. “And I am adding ‘cast-iron skillet’ to the Long List of Things Charley Needs to Buy. You will thank me when your cheap-ass cookware doesn’t catch fire and burn down your building.”

“Hey, I’ve used this stuff for years and the only time anything catches fire is when these lunkheads try and cook for me!”

“And you keep letting them into your apartment why?” Alley asked over more protests.

Charley laughed. “I dunno. I guess they just kinda grew on me.” She gave the sulking mice a teasing wink.

“Like mushrooms,” Alley added with a snort, turning back to her eggs that were in danger of burning. “I need the bacon out of the fridge. It’s in the side compartment.” She emptied the finished eggs into a large serving bowl and covered the top with a plate to keep them from cooling.

A few moments later, a golden hand thrust into her line of sight, clutching a pack of raw bacon. “Smells good,” Throttle commented, sniffing appreciatively.

“Thanks,” she muttered, a little spooked to have the mouse standing so close behind her; she had the oddest feeling it wasn’t the eggs he’d just been sniffing at, but her suspicious glare didn’t even phase him as he calmly slit open the package and held up a slice of bacon, studying it curiously as if it was a particularly interesting bug. She raised an eyebrow, amused by his scrutiny. “One would almost think you’ve never seen raw meat before.”

His eyes crinkled behind his shades as he grinned down at her. “Sure I have. It’s usually on the other guy’s face after I get done pummeling it a few times,” he teased.

“That … is really something to be shared on a need-to-know basis, and I did not need to know.” She shot him a disgusted look, taking the bacon to add it into the pan.

He chuckled. “Anything else I can do, princess?”

“How kind of you to offer. You can set the table for me, if you promise not to break the dishes. Or set it on fire.” She offered her sweetest smile, ignoring his deadpan expression, before quickly turning her attention to the bacon when it began crackling in earnest, spitting hot grease into the air.

The phone rang loudly, and Charley heaved herself off the couch--with the help of a crutch she’d dug out of a closet--and picked up the cordless hanging on the wall. After a few moments, she limped into the kitchen, holding it out by the antenna. "It's for you."

It took Alley a second to realize it was being offered to her. She blinked. “Who’d be calling me?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe that mother you left behind in Florida. You know, the one who has been waiting to hear from you for the past few days now?”

Alley winced. “Oh. Her.”

Charley narrowed her eyes. “You did at least call to let her know you arrived safely, right ?”

"Ummm…" Alley rummaged until she unearthed a pair of salad tongs, plucking the finished bacon from the pan onto a large plate. “I was … getting around to it…” she hedged.

"Alley Davidson!" Charley shook her head. "I can't believe you! No wonder she's pissed!"

"Come on, you can hardly blame me if I've been a little distracted ." Alley waved the tongs in the general direction of the table, around which the mice had gathered as Throttle finished setting it with mismatched plates. They weren’t even trying to pretend they weren’t listening in, all eyes trained on the women.

"Talk to her."

She pulled a face. "Now?"

"No, next Tuesday. Yes, now."

"I can't handle being yelled at this early in the morning," Alley grumbled. “Besides, I’m making breakfast.”

“Breakfast is done. We’ll eat. You talk.” Charley plucked the tongs from Alley’s fingers and replaced them with the handset.

Alley huffed. "Fine. " She marched into the living room and flopped onto the couch, four sets of eyes following her curiously. Took a deep breath and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hey, Mom. It's me. How’ve you been?" And winced when Vivian Davidson immediately started bawling her out for being such a thoughtless, forgetful, worrisome daughter. Really, the woman could probably crack windows if she set her mind to it; Alley could already feel the headache coming on.

"I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't—No, everything's—Well, it's been a little hectic for the past—" She paused and rubbed her temple irritably, scowling at her amused audience. She should’ve retreated to her room when she had the chance, but damned if she’d tuck tail and run now. "I arrived a bit later than expected, and it was too late to call then," she explained through gritted teeth. "What happened? No, nothing serious. Just a little car trouble on the way." She paused again, rolled her eyes at Charley, and mimed aiming a gun at her own head and pulling the trigger. Several times. Charley grinned back and blew her a kiss. The guys sniggered.

Alley threw a hand in the air, finally at her wit’s end. "Look, I’m sorry I forgot to call, okay? I'm a horrible, horrible daughter. Cut me some slack! I don’t want to run up Charley’s phone bill and I haven’t had time to look for a new cell phone yet. I mean, between my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, and then these random foreign dudes trying to pick me up to sell my body for spare parts, you can hardly--"

She abruptly jerked the phone away from her ear, grinning evilly; even from the kitchen, they could hear the hysterical screeching on the other end.

"Oh, for the love of—Give me that!" Even on a crutch, Charley made it to the couch in a second, trying to snatch the handset from her laughing cousin.

Alley quickly scrambled out of reach. “You’ll have to do better than that!” she sang, dangling the handset tauntingly.

“Give me that phone,” Charley growled, hobbling after her.

“Whatsa matter, Gimpy? Can’t keep up?” Alley teased.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“Using what, your arm?” Still laughing, Alley darted around the couch … only to have the phone plucked from her fingers by a long, white tail. “Hey! That’s cheating!” she protested, jumping to try and catch it. Vinnie only grinned, holding it well above her grasping hands before tossing it to Charley. On the other end, Vivian was still yelling.

“Thanks, Vinnie. I owe ya,” Charley laughed. "Hey, Aunt Viv? Yeah, it's Charley again. Listen, ignore everything that brat just told you. Absolutely nothing happened, I promise." She aimed a swat at Alley's backside with the crutch as the grinning blonde slipped past, before heading down the hall to attempt some damage control. "Yeah, she did have some car trouble, but she arrived safe and sound. It's just been a little busy…" The bedroom door shut, blocking the rest of her words.

Looking quite smug, Alley sauntered to the fridge to pour herself a glass of orange juice. Four amused gazes settled on her as she hopped up to sit on the counter, as all the chairs were otherwise occupied. "What?" she asked, all doe-eyed innocence as she calmly sipped her juice.

Modo shook his head in disapproval, even though a grin insisted on twitching his mouth. "It weren't right, scarin' your poor mama like that," he scolded.

Alley snorted into her cup. "Maybe. But it sure was fun.”

Stoker barked a laugh, grinning at her unrepentant response. “You’re a bit of a brat, huh?”

“Actually, the correct term is ‘unholy terror’. Well, according to my dad, anyway. But whatever.” She helped herself to a slice of bacon off the serving plate, then rolled her eyes at their continued scrutiny. “Look. There’s one thing you gotta know about my mom. She’s a chronic worrier.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a parent worryin’ over a child,” Throttle grunted.

“Not normally, no. But my mother is excessive. I mean, I once caught a head cold and she managed to convince herself I was dying of the bubonic plague.” Alley shook her head, smiling wryly. “I love my mom, but she drives me insane. That’s why I came all the way out here to go to school, to get away from her. Dad helped convince her to let me go, but only because he knew I’d go anyway, with or without her blessing, and that’d probably drive her into a nervous breakdown.”

“So you decide to repay him by giving her one over the phone the first time she calls?” Throttle peered at her over his specs, brow raised.

Alley snorted, crunching another slice of bacon. "Well, since she was working herself into a full-blown tizzy anyway, I figured I might as well give her an actual reason."

Stoker barked a short laugh. "You really are an unholy terror. I like that in a woman."

She blinked at him. "Thanks. I think."

~*~*~*~*~

“Should you be working on that foot?”

Alley eyeballed her cousin critically as she leaned over the opened backside of the VW Bus, tinkering around inside. Charley pulled her head from Priscilla’s interior, wiping her hands on a well-used rag. She waved off Alley’s concern. “Garage’s still gotta run, injury or no.”

“Why don’t you hire some help?”

“Are you kidding? Mechanics are expensive to employ and the Last Chance is barely scraping by as it is. Besides, I’m the best mechanic this side of the galaxy. Nobody else can do half the job I can,” she bragged. “And even aside from that , what would I tell ‘em about those guys always droppin’ by?” She jerked her thumb toward a quartet of gleaming motorcycles, which were being studiously maintained by their furry owners as they sang along to a blaring radio in horribly off-key voices.

“Hmm. Good point. But don’t they ever help you out?”

"Sure, but they’re no wrench jockeys. They’re good for heavy lifting and all, and they know their own bikes inside-out, but when it comes to fixing earth tech, they wouldn't know a carburetor from a spark plug." Charley glanced over at the mice with a grin. "No offense, guys!" she teased.

“Hey, now, I resent that.” Stoker tossed her a mock-wounded glance. “I’ve got a lot more upstairs than these three lunkheads, I’ll have you know.”

“Sure, you’re just bustin’ with brains. They’re just buried under all those cobwebs in the attic,” Charley teased.

“Bah!” Stoker tossed a rag at her. “Keep that up, and you’re not gettin’ your present, Missy,” he teased, eyes gleaming impishly.

Charley perked up. “Oooh, present? Is it that thing I asked for last time you came by?”

He laughed. “Maybe.”

“What thing?” Vinnie wanted to know. “An’ how come you didn’t bring us any presents?”

"‘Cause you ain’t half as pretty to look at,” Stoker quipped. He glanced at Alley and winked. “Sorry, honey. Didn’t know I’d be meeting you, or I’d’ve brought you a present, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alley muttered, turning her back on him.

He chuckled. “Still miffed about that, I see. Anything I can do to make it up?”

Alley flushed and opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do … until Charley stuffed a sock in it.

Well, it was really a rag, but still.

The mice cracked up as Alley squealed and yanked the cotton out, wiping her mouth and spitting. “ Charley! I can’t believe you just did that!” she screeched. “That’s disgusting! You probably just poisoned me, you know!”

“Relax, princess. It was a clean rag.” Charley laughed and rapped the back of Alley’s head with her knuckles, dodging her playful swipe. “Anyway, I finished checking out your bus.”

"And? What's the verdict, Doc?"

She shrugged. "Honestly? You'd be better off selling this clunker and getting yourself a new car," she replied. "I'm seriously amazed you managed to make it all the way out here with as little trouble as you had."

"You can't fix it?" Alley couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice.

Charley snorted. “Don’t insult me. I can fix anything. But it's gonna take time. Your transmission is almost shot and don’t get me started on the brakes! If you want to be able to drive it safely, it’s gonna need a lot of work, and authentic replacement parts are gonna be pricey."

"What kind of pricey are we talking here?"

Charley patted her shoulder. "Get yourself a new car, kid. A nice little compact that’ll be way better on gas mileage. I know some people who could get you a great deal on a trade-in.”

"Aw, come on!" Alley cried. "I can't just give her up like that! I love Priscilla! She’s a classic!" She dramatically threw her arms around the bus, as far as she could reach. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t lose you without a fight!”

Charley rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Look, if you're that determined to keep her, I'll call in some favors and see about getting some parts. But you'll have to get yourself a job unless you want your savings eaten up by this hunk of metal. And I'll have to work on her around my schedule. As you can see, I'm pretty overloaded as it is." She gestured around the garage, littered with cars and motorcycles in various stages of repair.

“Maybe I can help?” Alley suggested.

“You?” Charley raised an eyebrow, taking in her cousin's ensemble of another frilly blouse and fluttery, knee-length skirt. Strappy heeled sandals with pale blue ribbons winding up her calves completed the look. "Not in that girly get-up, you can't."

“I don’t mean right this second, but hello, I did grow up in a garage just like you, remember? I know my way around a toolbox.”

“Oh, yeah?” Charley grinned and rummaged around her trolley cart, holding up a tool. “Prove it.”

Alley crossed her arms smugly. “That’s obviously a ratchet wrench with a … three-eighth inch drive socket attached.”

“And these?”

“Vice Grip pliers. Tempered steel. Shiny.”

“Not bad. How about this?”

Alley sniffed. “Standard spark plug gauge. Really, is that all you got?”

“Okay, brat, tell me what those are, and what they’re used for.” Charley nodded to two pieces of equipment parked by the half-completed Mustang.

Alley pursed her lips and flipped back her hair. “Please. The first one is a hydraulic engine crane, obviously used to lift and move engines. Second one looks like a thirty-ton shop press. Used for various jobs. Oh, and that fancy get-up over there?” She pointed to a large, computer-like console near the garage door. “Looks an awful lot like an air conditioning service station.”

Charley whistled. “Looks like you know your stuff.”

“Of course I do!” Alley nodded toward a rack of tires. “Nice equipment there, too. Tire changer, alignment, balance, and … ooooo, is that a nitrogen filling station and generator I see? We are going high-class, aren’t we? Dad would be jealous.”

Charley laughed and gave her a playful shove. “All right, smartass, you proved your point. You know your way around a garage. But knowing and doing are two different things. When’s the last time you actually got your hands dirty?”

“Hmmm…” Alley tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I might’ve been twelve. Maybe thirteen.” She grinned at her cousin’s expression. “What? Dad always said fixing engines is like riding a bike. Once you learn, you don’t forget.”

“All the same, how about we start you off on something a little easier. And less likely to get you killed if you slip up.”

“Weeelll … I couldn't help noticing that huge pile of unorganized paperwork overflowing on your sales desk over there. At least, I'm assuming that's a desk. That is a desk, right?"

Charley shot her a deadpan look. Alley grinned. "I might not have tinkered around an engine for a few years, but I did do most of the filing and paperwork in Dad’s shop. Filled out orders, made appointments. Made sure needed parts and equipment were kept in stock. That sort of thing. I was sort of his unofficial co-manager-slash-secretary. It’s how I earned most of my money, actually, aside from some other odd-jobs here and there."

Charley thought for a moment. She did hate filing paperwork, and tended to leave it “for later” as often as possible. Unfortunately, “later” always seemed to come … well … later, and she was always too tired to deal with it, thus leaving her with the current mess of scattered bills, sales receipts, and jotted appointments in their haphazard piles on the desk. A secretary did indeed sound like a wonderful idea. "Didn't you have to go to the college today?" she asked.

"I have all day. Besides, not going anywhere with my ride out of commission."

"You’re welcome to borrow the truck, you know,” Charley offered. “Or you can probably catch a ride with one of the guys. Although, I wouldn’t recommend wearing a skirt. A bit drafty for a bike, I think.”

Alley wrinkled her nose. “The truck will be fine, thanks.”

Charley nodded, gestured at Alley to follow her. "Okay. then. Your mission, since you chose to accept it, is to get this mess organized into their respective piles. I have payments owed, receipts for payments made, and there's an actual appointment book buried in there somewhere. There’s also a parts supply list that needs to be checked over. I need everything sorted by date and time, and logged into the computer."

"That's a computer?" Alley eyeballed the huge behemoth of a machine.

"Hey, don't make fun. It's a perfectly good computer," Charley sniffed, patting the top of the ancient hard drive.

Alley smirked. "I don't wanna hear another crack about my bus from someone whose computer has been around since the Kennedy administration."

"It is not that old!" Charley gave her a playful glare. "I built it myself, I'll have you know. Excellent memory, huge hard drive, practically hack-proof, and let's see any viruses try to worm their way into this baby. Can't get a system like this in a Best Buy!" She was clearly proud of her creation.

"Yep. Looks like a Frankenstein to me." Alley patted the monitor. "That's a good Frankie! Who's a good boy?" she cooed, laughing and skipping away when Charley tried to grab her into a headlock. "Hey, watch the duds!"

"Okay," Charley laughed. "I gotta get back to work. You sure you can handle this? It’s a lot to organize."

Alley scoffed. "Not a problem, Cuz. This is what I do. It's all good!"

#Biker Mice from Mars #bmfm fanfiction #Charley #original characters #Vinnie #modo #throttle #Stoker #romance #humor #drama #adventure

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