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pandoraslxna · 11 months

Note

ok but w step bro! neteyam w/ “just the tip” 👀

Infected

Stepbro Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: While on a hunt with your stepbrother Neteyam, he comes in contact with something that makes him act… strange.

Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest (means they’re not siblings related by blood, reader is adopted!), aged up characters, sex pollen, mild dub-con, dry humping, p in v, quickie, semi-public, creampie

Notes: gif made by the amazing @eclipseatsea <3 Anyways, I wrote this in one sitting wtf??🧍🏻‍♀️

Na‘vi translations:

Thanì - little star

Neteyam is hot. No, not that kind of hot— I mean yes, that kind too, but right now he feels hot. Feverish even.

His skin is glistening in a thin layer of sweat, breathing slightly uneven and rapid and eyes almost fully blown. The yellow of his iris has decreased into a thin ring around his pitch black pupils.

You hastily blurt the information of your stepbrothers condition into your throat comm, pacing back and forth in worry. Occasionally, you glance back at Neteyam, who was barely able to hold himself up on his feet, his back now resting against a tree trunk. Every time you looked at him over your shoulder, he seemed to slide further down the trunk, until he was finally sitting down on the ground. His eyes were still glued on you the whole time, following your every movement. You saw the way his nose scrunched and his ears laid flat against his head, his tail trashing against the ground behind his back and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that he was still hunting.

"Sweetheart, listen", Jakes voice finally snapped you out of your thoughts, "That sounds like he’s been infected with something. Did you two touch or eat anything strange? Got stung by something?"

"No? I- I don’t know, dad, I really don’t", you sigh, "How much longer until you’re here?"

"Twenty… maybe thirty minutes." Not before the eclipse starts, you think, chewing on your bottom lip as the anxiety grows worse. "Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep until I’m there and try to get him some water."

"Yes, yes okay, alright." You nod, even though he couldn’t see it. "Please hurry."

"Breathe, don’t panic, babygirl. It’s going to be alright, I’m sure it’s nothing bad", your stepfather reassures you and the soothing tone in voice actually helps you calm down a bit. "Check him for any stings, wounds or other injuries, okay? And if you find anything, report it back to me."

"Yes, sir."

You tried to focus on that order, because if you were to think even for one second about anything else, you would’ve lost your composure once and for all. Immediately after the line went dead, you turn back to Neteyam. He’s still sitting there, silent, unmoving, just looking at you.

"Dad will be here soon", you mumble, more to comfort yourself than him, as you step closer. "He said I need to check you for injuries."

There’s the slightest movement, barely even a nod from Neteyam as you kneel down in front of him, giving you permission to touch him. With shaky fingers and your heart pounding inside your chest hard enough to break your ribs, you reach out for his hands. You feel his palms first, then his wrist, but nothing. Your hands move further up, checking his arms, shoulders, his chest. Your mouths feels dry, but again, you can’t find anything. Not even a splinter or the tiniest scratch. He seems completely fine. You would’ve thought that there was nothing wrong with him, if it wasn’t so obvious that there was clearly something very wrong with him.

It’s when you’re about to check his back, shuffling closer and leaning forward for a better view, that he suddenly pulls you by your wrists and makes you straddle his lap. The air around you both felt electrifying now, every one of your senses coming alive all at once. You gasped his name in surprise, your face turning bright red from the intimate position you found yourself in, with both of his arms encircled tightly around your middle.

It’s been a while since someone was last this close to you and you couldn’t help but notice every single inch of bare skin that was now touching yours. Your thighs on his, his arms around your middle, your hands on his chest—

But then Neteyam hisses through clenched teeth and buries his face in the crock of your neck and it immediately snaps you back to the fact that your stepbrother was sick. He was sick or injured or eywa knows what he was going through, but it seemingly caused him this much pain and distress, that he was seeking comfort in you.

Cause that’s what it was, right? That’s why he pulled you into his lap. Right?

"A-Are you in pain?"

What a stupid question, you thought, face scrunching up in embarrassment. Of course he was, you knew that already. But what else were you supposed to say to him? You just had to say something, because sitting in a position like this with someone you considered family and not saying anything would’ve made this even more awkward than it already was.

"Hmh", Neteyam only hums. His breath is warm against the skin of your throat, a constant reminder of how close he was to you like this.

"Where?"

Why did that even matter? Maybe you thought, hoped, that he could show you where, that he would point to somewhere and help you understand what was wrong with him.

Well, lucky for you, that’s exactly what he did. With his arms still wrapped around your middle, Neteyam pushed you down harder against his lap, his own hips rising just enough to grind his hard cock against your clothed cunt. "Right there", he groans lowly and in that moment, it felt like all the blood in your veins rushed straight to your head, making you feel dizzy with heat.

You don’t even know why, but instinctively, you try to push yourself off and away from him. Okay scratch that— you knew exactly why. It’s not that it didn’t feel good, it was the fact that it didn’t feel right. Neteyam was your stepbrother, someone you weren’t even supposed to touch like this! Whatever it was, that made him act the way he did, he surely wasn’t himself right now. He would’ve never… or would he?

You shake your head as if to shake the thoughts out of it, hands finding purchase on his shoulders and you attempt to lift yourself off of him again, but his arms hold you secured against him. "Stay. Please", Neteyam murmurs against your collarbone, "You make me feel better."

"I, uhm… I don’t think that’s a good ide—"

You’re interrupted by the sound of your own surprised squeak, when he suddenly lifts you up and quickly, probably a little too quick, lays you down against the ground with a thud. Your back was pressed against the soft grass now and his full body weight laid on top of you, his arms on either side of your head caging you in completely.

Your heart races, hammers against your ribs like a Fkio in a small cage. A new wave of heat spreads all over your body when Neteyam presses his nose against the skin of throat, inhaling as deep as his lungs could expand.

Your arousal and natural scent were so potent on his nose, it was making his mind hazy and his cock strained against his loincloth so tightly, he thought it would tear the fabric at any second. You were trying so hard to hide your own arousal, but he could smell you— could see your flushed face, hear your panting and feel how you tried to squeeze your thighs together, if it weren’t for his hips to be settled in between them.

Neteyam inhales again and his eyes flutter close. He does so, while he continues to grind his cock against your core. The outline of his length getting dragged over your folds and his tip bumping against your clothed clit makes you whimper softly, your noises only egging him on more.

"W-What are you doing?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You sound so small and uncertain– uncertain if you could allow yourself to feel good, to enjoy this, despite the guilt of doing something so forbidden with him.

"I’m sorry. Feels better when i do that", Neteyam responds, burying his apologies into your skin, "Makes it hurt less." He doesn’t sound uncertain, or guilty for that matter. He sounds desperate, breathless. Like he’s holding himself back.

You could feel Neteyams tail wrap itself around your calf and his breath ghost over the shell of your ear, but then you shake your head and swallow thickly, like it pains you to say this, "You should… probably get off of me."

Not even a second passes, before you feel him grind himself between your thighs again, hard cock gliding over your most private parts, the fabric of your loincloths only adding further to the rough friction and you could feel the wetness pool right there, soaking the fabric.

"Sorry I just… I can’t think. Can’t stop." Neteyam whispers, sending a shiver throughout your entire body.

It was the truth. He had tried to downplay the effects so as not to worry you even more, but ever since he had accidentally inhaled that weird pink dust of this strange looking flower, the one he wanted to pick for you when you had your back turned to him, it had been hard to breath. His lungs, loins, skin, everything felt on fire.

The first touch of your hands on him, skin to skin, had felt like a mouthful of fresh water, cooling down his insides. The first relief he‘s had in hours.

But it still wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed you.

"It’s okay, i know you’re in pain but—"

You nearly moan, just barely managing to catch it before the sound leaves your throat, when he bumps against your clit again. The sounds he coaxed out of you made his blood boil inside his veins.

You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to feel good, that you were in the middle of the forest, that he was your stepbrother, that his father, your stepfather was on his way to your position, but eywa— eywa, does it feel good when he moves like this…

Neteyam growls into the crook of your neck, bucking his hips just a little harder against you, and it sounds strained, reflecting the state of his body perfectly. "Please, thanì, c‘mon. Fuck. Just the tip, please."

"Teyam, we… we shouldn’t. Dad– Dad will be here a-any minute now." It’s a weak attempt to try and reason him. You’re not even convinced to stop this yourself, if you were being completely honest with yourself. Biting your lip, you had to conceal another whimper from escaping, as he continues to hump you like he was experiencing his rut. At this point, you weren’t sure how much more you could take of this, without giving in to your desires— to his desires.

Neteyam should feel sick about this. He should feel sick about it, but all he could feel was the heat in his guts, the painful throbbing of his cock and the soft of your skin pressed tight against his body.

A warm breath tickles your throat once again, feeling Neteyam inhale and exhale deeply, nosing your skin as if he tried to imprint your scent on his nostrils.

"I‘ll be quick, I promise", he groans, "Eywa, you smell good, r-really good."

As his mouth wanders to your jawline, kissing and sucking, his forehead comes to rest against your cheek and you gasp. He’s burning, his skin feels like it’s been set aflame. This is worse than any fever, worse than any rut.

"O-Okay", you finally agree, all resolve shattering to pieces.

Neteyam moves quicker than you were expecting. One of his hands wedges itself between your bodies, hastily pulling your loincloth to the side, just enough to gain access where he needed to. There’s no time, it seems, no time to take it slow as he fumbles with his own loincloth, flicking the fabric up and out of the way, pulling his leaking cock out from under his coverings and lining himself up with your entrance. He really couldn't think anymore, not of any consequences, not with all the blood pounding through his angry cock, desperation clinging to his body, making his mind hazy and eyes half lidded.

When he pushes your legs up with his free hand, folding you nearly in half, you’re spread wide open for him to push inside, inch after inch. The stretch as he buries himself to the hilt drives every single thought, every worry, every ounce of guilt right out of your head. Neteyam moans, he moans loud and wanton and it’s a sound of relief followed by a deep groan rumbling in his chest.

You never imagined that there was so much space inside of you, but your stepbrother happily claimed all of it, every last bit.

Eywa help him if he doesn’t savor this, because he didn’t know the next time he’ll be able to do this again, if he was even ever allowed to. You’re warm and wet and soft and tight, so tight. Great mother, it felt like his mind was going into overdrive as he began to thrust into you.

His face was still buried into the space between your throat and shoulder and he didn’t plan on moving anytime soon. He’d stay like this forever if he could. Neteyam wants every single breath he takes to be filled with your scent from now on. Whatever it was, that made him act like this, it made him so painfully aware of how sweet his baby sister smelled. How good she tasted, when he ran his tongue over her pulse point and how incredible she felt, wrapped around his cock like a little sleeve made just for him.

"T-Teyam, f-fuck!", it’s a high-pitched whine, followed by a little punched out noise that doesn’t sound like anything that’s ever come out of your mouth before. His movements are jerky and rough, all for the purpose of chasing his own pleasure. The obscene squelching sound from him pounding into your pussy, mixed with streams of moans filled the air around you within seconds.

"Sorry, sorry, I’m— fuck, I’m sorry. You just feel so good, can’t slow down", Neteyam groans into your ear, his words being the complete opposite of his actions. The movement of his thrust are deep and fast, knocking the air from your lungs and causing your eyes to roll all the way back into your head. With the way he was hammering his cock into you, you could feel the mushroomy head of it kissing your cervix over and over again, pummeling against your g-spot on the way.

It’s okay, you want to say. You would, if you were still capable of forming any words on your tongue that weren’t just mewls and curses and brabbled nonsense.

Neteyam was surely aiming to fuck the very soul out of you like this. Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin and holding on for dear life as you felt your cunt turning into a gooey mess, thanks to the mixture of his pre-cum and your own slickness leaking out of you already.

"So good, feels so good, thanì", you hear him moan next to your ear, fangs grazing your skin as he licks and nibbles on your shoulder. "O-Oh fuck, you feel amazing. So wet and t-tight."

Between the thrill of being caught and Neteyams brutal pace, it didn’t take long for you to hit your peak. His cock expertly finds all the places you couldn’t reach yourself, all the spots that make pleasure curl your toes and starbursts explode behind your eyelids. Neteyam licks the sweat from your collarbones like it’s something to be savored, moaning at the feeling of you squeezing his cock like you were trying to milk him for all it’s worth.

"Teyam, Teyam I’m close, you’re gonna make me come!"

Right on cue, Neteyam hiked your leg up higher around his waist. The new angle allowed him even deeper access and you throw your head back at the new sensation. The second you felt his cock throb inside of you, your orgasm crashed down upon you like a sheet of ice– your legs squeezing around his waist, arms tightening around his neck so much that he had trouble breathing. But that didn’t stop him from fucking you like it was the only thing you were made for.

"Gonna.. haa fuck, I’m gonna cum inside you."

Neteyam feels his orgasm building like he’s been waiting for it for years, like someone had edged him, like he hasn’t had a release in forever and then it hits him like it never has before.

"Take it, shit, just take it, take my cum!"

He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, because if he didn’t, he would’ve latched onto your shoulder like a palulukan into its prey. His hips stutter, abs tensing and then he slams into you as deep as he could go, groaning your name as rope after rope of his cum fills you.

And then, the heat inside of him was gone.

As the last droplet of his seed was successfully pumped into you, Neteyam finally felt his head clear up and he came back to himself. The both of you stayed like that for just a moment, with him panting into your neck, both of you trying not to think about what you had just done.

When Neteyam finally pulls out of you, it’s gingerly, tenderly even, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. As terribly sore and used as you felt, somehow there was a secret shard of happiness under it all. You wondered, if his coy smirk was any indication that he felt the same.

By the time Jake finally arrived, the only evidence of your sins was his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the fabric of your loincloth.

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dilfbunny · 2 months

Text

Breaking The Glass Ceiling (18+)

ft. aunt! ada x fem! reader

WARNINGS !! - incest, age gap - reader is in her 20s, mentions of parental issues, ——throat training with a dildo/strap on, gagging, fingering, vag fucking with a strap, pet names 𓃹

wc. 1.2k

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Your mother had always resented her little sister. She was the family favorite. The successful sibling. Even you seemed to favor her.

She holds a grudge, still to this day. She swears that Ada stole everything she’s ever had. Parental approval, boyfriends, and now you.

Ada was constantly on her ass about how she raised you way too sheltered. She predicted early on that you’d drown once you stepped foot outside in your own world outside of your mother’s control.

Well, she was right.

College didn’t work out for you and that was something your mother couldn’t bring herself to understand. She didn’t care what the reason was. She was only focusing on how you ‘gave up your future.’ But waking up was hard enough as it was, going back to school just made everything worse. Staying motivated at all was hard. Keeping a steady job was hard. Some days, life was just too real.

To your mom, that made you lazy. And of course she blamed it on the new boyfriend.

That was always her go to. It wasn’t that you were struggling, just the things you surrounded yourself with. Your friends, your phone, whatever she could bring into the matter. You were just fine.

She did nothing but undermine your feelings throughout the years, even more so once you became an adult. You knew you were going to be pushed out of the nest eventually, but still, even a little support would be nice.

She didn’t bother to reach out to you from that point forward. You were supposed to follow her footsteps through to the right path. But you didn’t want that. You weren’t your mother. You were you. Even if you weren’t sure of who you were yet.

None of that weighed you down anymore, however. Not with aunt Ada’s unwavering support.

Of course you went to her when you were having relationship troubles. You wouldn’t get far with asking your mother.

Ada always had herself figured out. She was self-reliant, didn’t need anyone and nothing could bring her down. She just breathed confidence and lured in whatever she was fishing for without fail.

You sought her out for advice. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself by giving bad head for the first time and it was time to take your relationship with your boyfriend to the next level. You figured she probably had some experience considering the way your mother talked about her.

She sure did. Only, instead of the words of advice you anticipated, you’re stationed on your knees in the middle of her living room.

“Open wider, angel. You can do better than this.” she pushes the silicone deeper down your throat, causing your eyes to squint and fight back tears. Her movements were slow which almost made it worse. All the tips and tricks to cease your gagging weren’t at all paying off.

She teases your gag reflex trying to get you to adjust to her length despite your apparent struggling. With a hand on her hip, the other holding you by your hair, she sinks you all the way down to the base of it. “C’mon, don’t make such a sour face,” she mutters. “Relax your throat like I told you.”

Even though she was giving you a hard time, she was undeniably enjoying the view. You looked so pretty, bruising your poor knees and trying so desperately to learn. She could hardly remember you as her niece. Not at all. You were a stranger to her.

“Less teeth,” she firmly reminds you when you start to choke. You’re drooling, stringing saliva with every one of her movements. You couldn’t help it. She picked out one of the biggest cocks she owned just for this special occasion.

Your throat tightens as you try to relax as told, tightening your lips to avoid the scraping of your top row of teeth.

Your thighs knead together as you shift your weight, sitting on your calves. You were completely drenched, and you knew you weren’t supposed to enjoy this. You weren’t meant to be here.

She was your aunt. You just came for a little advice.

“Good girl,” she coos, tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear and suddenly you lose all sense of morality. She looked down at you like you were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes on, her voice smooth as silk, repressing all of your doubts. “You catch on pretty fast, so how about the next step?”

She pulls the toy out of your mouth, letting it stand firm as is. “On all fours for me, angel.”

You didn’t even question, didn’t even stop to think. You just did.

You move to your hands and knees, displaying your backside in all it’s glory to her. Perfectly untouched.

Her fingers prod through your entrance with ease, your cunt sucked them in eagerly. She felt around inside searching for that spongey spot which didn’t take long.

You let out a high pitched squeal as she teases over it, curving her slender digits deeper into you. All she wanted was to ruin you in that moment, stretch you to the limit so no man could ever mold you to his desire. But she wouldn’t want to ruin your first time. She knew you’d enjoy her methods much better regardless.

She spreads your legs almost uncomfortably far apart, causing you to shake as you struggle to hold yourself up. The rubber slaps against your clit, making you lose your balance all the more. You clench, expecting to be filled with it. But she only slots the tip of it in.

Your chest lowers to the carpet, back arching into her cock. She just jabs the tip in and out, not quite reaching where you really want it deep inside.

“More…” you whine out, perching your ass furthermore. You tried to meet her, only met with more distance.

“Now, that’s not how we ask for things, is it?”

She was fucking with you, forcing you to a needy state. “Please—, need your cock deeper, Ada,” you let out a pitiful plea, music to her ears.

“Mnn, yeah?” she grits her teeth as if she could feel it, stuffing the toy halfway into your cunt. “Like this?”

The way you pouted made her want to torture you more, deprive you of your need until you were begging and babbling for her to fuck you, make you take it all. She couldn’t resist.

She plunges the rest of the way in, stifling a gasp from your lips. “Such a greedy little thing aren’t you? Hope you can handle what you asked for.”

She ruts into you roughly, hitting your deepest parts, places you never dare tried to reach. Your nails claw at the carpet, grasping, searching for anything to hold onto. She keeps pumping you full, filling the room with the sounds of your gushy pussy, so desperate for release.

“m’ cumming!” you cry.

“So soon? Mnn, you really are too easy.” she grunts, pulling you back by your hips to meet her thrusts deeper. “Cum for me then, don’t hold back angel.”

With your eyes lulling back, body quaking, you reach your peak. The rush leaves you breathless, unable to stumble out a single word. Your body falls weak, trembling onto her floor, which was probably coated in your mess.

You don’t even remember what you originally came for, or why it felt so unbelievably soul snatching when it shouldn’t.

Ada eventually pulls out, removing the harnessed strap from her waist.

“Anything else you need to learn? You’re always welcome here. Remember that.”

#tw dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #resident evil #ada smut #ada wong #ada wong x reader #tw.incest #ada wong x reader smut #resident evil x reader

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mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

False Meridian

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Summary: Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you.

Warnings: graphic violence & gore (!!!), bad decisions, bad writing, the usual shit honestly, this fic also follows scream logic (stab wounds are akin to paper cuts)

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: this was requested by a few people. read the warnings pls. i hate this.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

It had been two months since your father’s death and things were very slowly but surely improving.

You integrated into life with the Carpenter sisters well. So well that Tara honestly thought you were always meant to have a place here. Even during those first few days when you were drowning in guilt and grief, you walked the halls of her house like you belonged there, and Tara loved it.

Unsurprisingly, through the impending days and weeks, your mother never came to check on you even once and, in turn, you never asked to see her. Tara couldn’t help but think it was for the better.

Now, she and Sam were your family, and everyone involved seemed more than happy with the arrangement.

Tara could do without having Sam there, personally, but she still had her uses and you loved her for some reason. Well, not for some reason, you’d mentioned how you always wanted an older sibling a few times, but why you adored having Sam in that position was still a mystery to her.

Sam had abandoned her when she needed her most, and her being back now, five years later didn’t change that, no matter how apologetic she tried to seem.

But Tara buried those thoughts whenever they came forth. Sam, for all of her many faults, was helping you and she wouldn’t begrudge you a connection with her sister because of her own hang-ups.

Plus, there were more pressing issues at hand to worry about anyway.

Returning to school after the bruises had healed enough to be believably covered by makeup and strategic wardrobe choices was tense for both of you.

Tara knew her friends could be nosy, and the last thing either of you wanted to talk about was what happened that night.

And the questions started immediately when you sat down at the group’s picnic table before first period. The boys were practically talking over one another, but they calmed when they noticed the way you shrunk into yourself.

Mindy specifically, being the only socially conscious one, was determined to give you space about the issue, whacking Chad and Wes when they crudely tried to question you and reminding you that they would be happy to listen whenever you were ready to talk.

For that, Tara was thankful, and she made sure Mindy knew that.

Over the days, weeks, and months, you established a new normal bit by bit. Your usual liveliness began seeping back in as the blood on your hands faded with time. Dinners and family nights were riddled with your laughter, and you started going to more and more group hangouts.

You seemed freer now, without the shackles your parents placed on you, and the sight made Tara overjoyed.

So things settled once more and a peace of sorts came to rest over her.

Sure, there were the daily annoyances like boys at school who stared at you in the halls, Wes’ insistent crush, and Sam’s overprotectiveness, but none of that mattered because you were there to soothe her every time.

And now that you lived with her, she had unlimited access to you—her favorite drug, her unending addiction. It was utter bliss.

But of course, peace, however relative it may be, never lasted for Tara.

It happened on a normal night, which only made it that much worse in Tara's mind.

You all had finished eating dinner together twenty minutes ago. Sam, as usual, left for her night shift just as you and Tara began washing dishes, walking out the door chuckling at Tara’s grumblings about getting out of chores while you waved.

Per the routine that you both had been cultivating, you washed, and she dried. You’d gotten to the point where you were both automatic, not needing to look to know where the other was and what they were doing.

When you blindly handed her a dish, she was already waiting for it with an open palm. You worked in tandem efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

The only thing that actively broke the set-in-stone routine was the ringing of the landline on the kitchen counter.

It was an odd occurrence. The number connected to it was long forgotten by Tara, so it sat silently on the counter most days, completely invisible save for the few times it got knocked over while cooking.

So the sudden sharp ringing startled you both. Tara flinched, her movement nearly imperceptible, but you literally jumped. The only thing that kept you from dropping the dish you were scrubbing was the steadying hand Tara placed on your forearm.

You shot her a bewildered glance, which she returned, but ultimately you ignored it and went on with your shared task.

But then it rang again, and again, and again.

Both of you tried to continue ignoring the sound, but it persisted for minutes on end, unrelenting.

You dried your hands off roughly with the towel by the sink. “I’m just gonna answer it.”

Tara nodded mutely, her eyes following you as you answered the phone.

She continued to dry off the last few dishes, sending you small glances as she set them on the counter. You were leaning against the island, exchanging tense small talk with what Tara assumed to be a particularly insistent telemarketer and she could tell by your tone of voice that the conversation would be over very soon.

Just as she was about to put the dishes away, you gasped, and the phone clattered loudly onto the island counter. Tara was by your side instantly.

“What happened?” she asked urgently.

You didn’t answer, too busy pressing yourself against the sink to try and put as much distance between yourself and the landline as possible.

She carefully took one of your hands and cradled it between hers, hoping to calm you enough to talk and it worked.

“He—he asked what my favorite scary movie was.”

Oh, she thought, her previous tension abating a bit.

Stupid calls like this had been happening ever since her initial killing spree. Immature teens and twenty-somethings loved pretending to be her so they could scare a stranger and get a cheap laugh. Tara adored the Stab movies, but the hardcore fans could be such disruptive assholes.

She sighed, stroking her thumb softly over your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a prank call. People have been getting them for months now.”

You shook your head vehemently. Only now did Tara feel the slight shaking of your hand in hers.

“No, Tara,” you whispered, fear staining every syllable. “He knew my name.”

Tara froze. Immediately, she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Who the hell is this?”

A sardonic laugh chimed from the speaker, and even from that single noise, Tara recognized the use of the voice changer.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

Her heart stuttered but she didn’t miss a beat. Thinking quickly, she decided to try and bait him.

“And just who are you? A loser who needs to hide behind someone else’s identity to mess with some girls? Don’t be a coward, show yourself.”

A clumsy attempt, but the only thing she came up with on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn’t bite.

“Oh, now where would the fun in that be? One of the best parts of the Stab movies is the mystery. Revealing the killer’s identity in the opening scene would be disappointing. As a fellow fan, wouldn’t you agree, Tara?”

The way he said her name, like a taunt rather than a title, made her skin prickle. Her irritation was rising steadily, but she couldn’t lose control. Not in front of you.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the other side of the kitchen and dropped her voice to the most menacing whisper she could muster.

“Is that what you think this is? The opening kill scene? Because I think you have it painfully backwards.”

“And what makes you think that? I could kick down your front door and dismember you both right now. Who knows, maybe I’m already inside.”

An empty threat, she knew, but still opened her security system app, silently thanking her intuition when she all but forced Sam to install one after you moved in. As expected, it was green. No doors or windows had been opened.

With that reassurance in mind, she set her phone down and turned her back to you.

“Believe me when I tell you that if you step foot inside of this house, I won’t just kill you, I will brutalize you. I will maim you so badly that your family won’t even be able to identify your body.”

The threat did little to deter the stranger. If anything, it seemed to excite him.

“Oh? And how can you be so sure?”

Tara chuckled. “Call it personal experience.”

“Well, luckily for both of us, we’re diverging from the formula. This isn’t a kill scene; this is a warning. A message, if you would.”

Confusion swelled in her. She asked, “A message for who?”

A laugh from the other end. Then, “You, Tara. And your dear sister. And your… ‘friend,’ of course.”

Her teeth grit harshly at the mention of you, but she needed to uncover a motive of some kind if she wanted to identify this person, so she tried another tactic.

“You’re a Stab fan, but you’re changing the iconic opening sequence?” she asked. “Why? Isn’t changing the franchise formula sacrilegious? I mean, they tried that with Stab 7, and look where that got them.”

“Ah, but this is my movie, Tara. And altering the structure serves a purpose. It destabilizes audience expectations and builds tension for the impending bloodbath in the future.”

“And when exactly will this bloodbath be?”

“I’ll be back for the seminal third act soon when both family members are present to witness it. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara went to respond but the line went dead.

You watched her intently as she turned back around, glancing between her and the phone. Cautiously, you asked, “Did he hang up?”

She nodded, placing the phone back on the receiver roughly. She hadn’t managed to ascertain a solid motive, but there were pieces. Bits of a breadcrumb trail for her to try and follow.

He mentioned that this was his movie, could that be his motive? Was this just the work of a fanatical fan that wanted a movie made from their actions?

But at the same time, this sounded far too personal to just be some random fanboy. Why target her specifically? And what exactly was he talking about when he said he knew her secre—

A sharp knock on the window resounded through the kitchen.

Both you and Tara jumped. There was a moment of stillness, both you and Tara seemingly frozen in time, but she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she crept toward the window, ignoring your frantic whispers, and pulled the curtain aside.

Standing right on the other side was someone in a Ghostface mask and a black robe.

When he knew he had her attention, he tilted his head to the side and raised his hand, proudly showing off the knife within it.

Tara’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled instinctively, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight. But he simply waved, waggling his fingers around the hilt, then turned and walked away.

She wanted to chase him down, tear off that mask, and use that knife of his to tear out his insides. But she couldn’t leave you here alone, vulnerable to an attack from a possible accomplice. After all, there were usually two killers in the Stab movies.

So she stood with her feet planted before the window and watched as he disappeared into the night.

Behind her, she heard you speaking urgently with someone and her answer as to who it was came not even ten minutes later when her sister’s car screeched into the driveway.

There were only seconds between Sam haphazardly parking and her crashing through the door. Before she knew it, Tara was being pulled into a group hug, but her eyes remained on the window.

Distantly, she heard you recounting the events of the past half hour or so, and Sam’s repeated attempts to calm you finally pulled her from her stupor. She reached, put a consoling hand on your back and cherished the way your muscles relaxed under her touch.

A combination of Sam’s ushering and Tara’s reassurances got you to finally go upstairs and as soon as you were out of view, it became apparent that Sam was going to attempt to get Tara to follow suit.

“Hey, I know you’re probably shaken about what happened, but you need to rest,” Sam urged her kindly, but the words went largely unheard.

The only part Tara registered was the error in her statement. Because shaken wasn’t quite how she felt.

Her smoldering anger was present, burning her veins with its intensity, but more than anything she felt…dishonored. Aggrieved, even, that someone would dare don the mask and robe that she adorned months before and attempt to terrorize her in her own home. Not to mention the extended threat to you as well.

So, no, Tara was not shaken in the slightest. If anything, she was rooted more firmly in her ways than she had been in a while.

Sam approached and rubbed her shoulder gently. This time Tara looked over at her, which made the taller girl smile.

“Go get some sleep, Tar. I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

The use of the old nickname made Tara’s hand twitch. She wanted to protest, she didn’t trust her sister to bear that responsibility alone, but you were upstairs waiting for her. You needed her so she forced a nod and trudged up the steps.

As expected, you were in bed waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her, cradling your head to her chest. Neither of you spoke a word, just laid with each other in the silent reassurance that the other person was alright.

And even when your breaths eventually evened out, her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above.

Tara didn’t sleep.

Her eyelids never even drooped. There was too much adrenaline, too much to think about, too many opportunities for someone to sneak in and hurt you for her to even think about sleep.

So instead, she cycled through all of the possibilities of who the imposter Ghostface could be and who their target was.

Her first instinct was to say they were after her, but that couldn’t be true. No one knew that she was behind the murders earlier that year. No one.

There were no witnesses, no clues left at the crime scenes, and no reason for anyone to suspect her.

Next would be you. But she couldn’t think of a single person who would want to hurt you. You had no enemies, at least none that she was aware of. It could theoretically be someone who knew about your father, but no one in their right mind would be seeking retribution for that waste of oxygen, so she wrote that off as well.

Lastly, there was Sam.

Sam was the biggest unknown factor for Tara. She knew next to nothing about her sister’s whereabouts in the past 5 years, besides the vague knowledge about her residing in Modesto for most of that time.

But faux Ghostface’s words kept replaying in her head.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara thought that those comments were directed toward her, that someone had figured out what she had done. But what if they were about someone else? After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family with a dark secret.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She was hesitant to leave you alone, even when she knew you were safe, but this was a conversation she had to have with Sam alone. So she carefully untangled herself from you and laid you against the pillow before heading downstairs.

Her sister was lying on the couch with her eyes glued to the tv, looking every bit as tired as Tara felt. She sat up as Tara entered. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tara muttered, sitting down where Sam’s legs had previously resided. She gave her sister a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”

Sam’s brows furrowed at her tone, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Sam. Please.”

Another nod. “I will.”

Tara took a deep breath. “Is there anyone from your past that you think would want to hurt you?”

“You think Ghostface was here for me?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinking it could be a possibility, yes.”

“Okay, um,” Sam bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been involved in anything…bad for years now. What makes you think he might’ve been targeting me specifically?”

“He mentioned a family secret. Twice,” Tara explained, watching her sister’s reaction closely. “I’m not trying to accuse you, I promise, but is there anyone that you told about your parentage besides me? Anyone?”

After thinking for another moment, Sam paled. She looked away for a minute then, straightening up, she said, “I have to tell you something…”

“What?” Tara asked, trying to decipher her sister’s behavior.

“There’s…this guy that I’ve been talking to online. His name is Richie,” Sam said, voice unsteady.

Tara’s stomach dropped.

“Sam…”

“It was just casual at first, I swear. I wasn’t intending on getting too close, but I was struggling, and he offered to listen,” Sam whispered. Tears were welling in her eyes as the full realization hit her, but Tara didn’t care. She couldn’t, not with what she was hearing.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, heartbeat kicking up.

There was a beat of agonizing silence. Then, “Yes.”

Tara stood abruptly, fists clenched. Sam stood with her, hands hovering around Tara’s shoulders, but the smaller girl took a step back. Her mind raced. She was trying to simultaneously work out what was happening while actively refraining from strangling her sister.

A question rose to the forefront of her mind.

“How did he know where you lived?”

Sam looked away, shame radiating off of her. “…My birthday’s coming up. He said he wanted to send me something—"

Tara spun on her heels and stormed into the kitchen. Her sister was hot on her heels, the stuttered beginnings of an apology on her lips, but Tara couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.

“Tara—"

“I can’t believe you,” she growled. “You risked not just your own life, but the lives of everyone in this house, and for what? A man that was just trying to use you? Jesus Christ, Sam. That’s pathetic, even for you.”

That nearly made, a few tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but she kept herself together long enough to get out one more coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I never meant for something like this to happen, I swear.”

Shaking her head violently, Tara looked away.

She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to go even further, to stick her finger in the wound and dig even deeper. Twist the knife even further and watch Sam squirm under the pressure. But she held herself back.

There was an unpredictable man in a Ghostface costume specifically targeting them. She needed all hands on deck. This wasn’t just about her feelings, even if entirely justified. You were here now, and your safety took precedence over her personal vendettas.

So she forced her tense muscles to go slack, wiped the fury from her features, and turned to pull Sam into her arms.

She disregarded the way her sister’s pathetic cries made set her nerves alight and whispered out meaningless we’ll be okay’s until the emotion passed.

Through it all, Tara tried to ignore how badly her palms itched.

Time passed in an odd, infrequent manner.

It was no longer a steady, unending stream of hours, days, and weeks. It trickled by in short, uneven bursts as if it was leaking from a broken faucet. Some days were long, the eight hours spent in school feeling like an eternity, while others seemed to last for minutes.

But eventually, the days added up until three entire weeks went by in paranoid quiet.

No sign of a lurking killer. No calls on the landline. Not a single glimpse of a white mask.

It was tormenting. Every day that passed without incident made her tenser, feeding her paranoia steadily until it was impossible for Tara to get a single good night of sleep.

Sam appeared to be suffering the same fate as her, but Tara didn’t care. She had offered the illusion of forgiveness in the moment, but they were on far from good terms.

They still saw each other every day since they lived in the same house, but apart from greetings and small pleasantries, Tara was trying her best to avoid interacting with her sister. The lingering anger and bitterness were still simmering beneath the surface, and she didn’t want to risk unleashing that in your presence, so she took to avoidance.

Sam noticed and tried to bridge the gap, mostly at dinner with incentivizing questions and comments, but her attempts were brazenly ignored by Tara, leaving you to awkwardly pull on the conversation threads in her place.

Of course, because of that, you picked up on the tension between the sisters. It was hard to miss, honestly.

Tara thought you would confront her about it, but you must’ve learned that head-on confrontation accomplished little when she was set in her ways about something because, suddenly, there were far more “family movie nights” than there were previously.

She participated half-heartedly, mostly for your sake but also because there was strength in numbers, and being together was safer than staying apart.

Tonight was one such night. It was 10 pm on a Friday, and you were practically buzzing with excitement beside her. For movie night tonight, you weren’t even watching a movie but instead finishing some Netflix show that you and Sam had gotten hooked on.

So you were snuggled into Tara’s side on the couch, pulling the show up on the tv while Sam made the popcorn (Tara’s personal favorite part of these nights, besides you).

“Ah, shit,” came Sam’s voice from the kitchen, and you both looked over to see what was going on. Sam closed the cabinet, a frown pulling the edges of her lips downward. “We’re out of popcorn.”

Your excitement tempered some, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You went to say something, but Sam straightened up, her frown disappearing.

“I can run to the store real quick and get some.”

Whether she was trying to dote on you to build rapport with Tara again or she just genuinely wanted to do it for you was unclear, but Tara didn’t like the idea of her going alone.

“Sam, maybe that’s not a good idea,” she reasoned. At her side, you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” you said, “it could wait till tomorrow.”

“There’s a convenience store a block or two away. It’s barely a trip.”

When neither of you responded, Sam pursed her lips, looking around briefly before grabbing her phone from the kitchen island and opening it. She spent a moment fiddling with it then came to kneel in front of you.

“Here,” she gestured to your phone, “accept the call, and I’ll stay on the line until I’m back.”

You hit answer, still hesitant. Tara said nothing, unease building in her gut steadily. It had been three whole weeks without a peep from Richie. And sure, the possibility of him losing his nerve and giving up was technically feasible, but was that really a risk worth taking?

“Are you sure you don’t want me or Tara to come with you?” you asked, worry tinging your tone.

Before Tara could say no, Sam shook her head. “No, you two stay here. I like knowing that you guys are safe with the security system in place. This should take no more than fifteen minutes and I’ll stay on the phone with you both the entire time, okay?”

Tara narrowed her eyes, flicking them over to you to see your response. For a moment you just sat there, looking worriedly at her sister, but you nodded slowly.

“If you hang up, I’m finishing the show without you,” you threatened with a small smile.

Sam laughed, patted your arm, and stood. Both you and Tara watched as she pulled her shoes and bomber jacket on. Tara was tempted to call her back but by the time the urge hit, Sam was shutting the door.

Throughout her journey to and inside the store, Sam kept her promise and didn’t hang up, keeping a steady flow of conversation with you even as she was being rung up by the clerk.

Tara stayed quietly by your side the whole time, trying to ease the pit in her stomach, but it didn’t go away. The dread persisted still as Sam announced that she was pulling into the driveway.

The muffled sound of a car door closing outside had you rushing over to the door. Tara smiled at your excitement, stepping up behind you as you pulled it open.

Outside, Sam was standing in the driveway, victoriously waving the popcorn in the air. “I got the last box!”

She started walking up to the open door when suddenly, a streak of black flashed across the yard, and before Tara could properly register it, her sister was being tackled to the ground. The sharp crack that accompanied her head hitting the ground barely resonated before Tara was slamming the door shut and twisting all the locks back in place.

You ran toward the door, but Tara grabbed you. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Sam’s out there, Tara. We have to help her.” You started toward the door again, but Tara wasn’t budging.

This is all her fault, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she said, “We can’t. It’s not safe, but we’ll go back for her, okay? I promise.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Tara.”

Tara inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice, while you dropped your phone with a gasp. But then the implications hit her just a second later and made her stomach drop to her feet.

The call was still connected. Sam’s phone was still unlocked, meaning Richie had full access to the security system app.

Seconds after Tara’s revelation, her phone dinged, and the voice notification automatically played.

Security System Disabled

A horrified gasp from her right told her that you heard it too. She tried to reenable it, but it was immediately disabled again, the green turning back to red while the mechanical voice taunted her.

Security System Disabled

There was no time. He was going to make his way in here, there was no stopping it.

Her greatest concern was making sure that you were as far away from him as possible when that happened. She grabbed your shoulders, caught your eye.

“Listen, take one of the kitchen knives and go lock yourself in my room. Hide in the closet and call 911. Tell them to bring police and paramedics, okay?”

You immediately shook your head and protested, “What? No, I am not leaving you alone with a serial killer, Tara.”

“Yes, you will. You need to.”

“Tara—"

“Please,” she begged, her voice strangled. She tightened her hold on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “Please, I can take care of myself. But I need to know that you’re safe. I can’t focus if you’re in danger. So please, just do as I say right now, ok?”

Reluctant, you nodded and pressed your lips to hers in a quick but firm kiss. After parting you held her gaze for another moment before running up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Tara watched you go and once she knew you were safe, she ran into the kitchen and scoured through the cabinets until she found the large, cast-iron skillet she used for stir-fries. She tried to peer out the window, but with the curtains tightly drawn, there was no telling what was happening outside.

Tara paused, a strategy forming. She could use the lack of visibility to her advantage.

Quickly, she moved the knife block to the opposite end of the island then began to cut the lights in both the living room and the kitchen one by one.

She saved the kitchen for last, keeping her eyes on the door as she flicked the switch down and crouched behind the island near the knives to wait.

Minutes passed in eerie silence, then finally, she heard the tell-tale jingle of keys in the front door lock. The knob twisted and the door creaked as it was pushed open, soft and slow. The sound only put Tara even more on edge.

Light footsteps could just barely be heard even in the silence, and Tara’s ears perked. The sounds stopped momentarily, then started in her direction. Quiet footfalls neared at a glacial pace, giving Tara ample time to steady her grip and prepare herself.

Once the footsteps were practically next to her, she swung with all her strength to the left. She connected with the nearest leg, and the force of the blow sent shockwaves up her arms.

The pained shout that arose was distorted by the voice changer inside the mask, but the clatter of the knife he was holding falling to the floor was clear as day.

Tara stood and, as soon as she located the knife, kicked it away. She took another swing, but he seemed to hear this one coming because he jerked back, so she struck the hard counter instead. The physical shock of it made her drop the pan in surprise.

He stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left leg. Desperate, he swung wildly a few times. Tara backed away but in a stroke of luck, the last one connected with her cheek.

Pain exploded where his fist connected, echoing through her jaw. The familiar, addictively metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and teeth. The pain only served to ground her, focusing the smoldering fire of her rage solely on the man in front of her.

Breath heaving, he went for another blind punch, but she sidestepped and delivered a solid kick to what she hoped was his left knee. And if the groan was anything to go by, then she hit her mark.

He fell again, clutching his knee, and Tara circled him. She stood on his right shin, hooked her arms around his throat, and leaned against the counter behind her, pulling back as hard as she physically could.

Richie coughed violently. Flailing arms tried to pry her off, but she stood firm, eyes drifting to the knife holster on the island. She leaned down by his ear.

“You know, with all that talk about secrets, you really should’ve been more careful with your own.”

She squeezed her arms together tighter and braced her hands firmly on her upper forearms. The urgency in Richie’s movements increased, but he achieved nothing all the same.

“Because I know your secret too, Richie,” Tara growled, lips coiling into a malignant crimson smile.

He froze at the sound of his name and Tara took the opportunity to rip the mask off of his face.

Now that his mask of bravery was off, she was overcome with the need to turn the lights back on. Because she wanted to see it. She wanted to watch his weaselly face contort in pain, she wanted to watch those last bits of life drain from his eyes.

Violent desire coursing through her, her grip loosened, one hand reaching back to flick the light switch on. But that was all he needed.

A moment of hubris was enough to ruin the victory she had very nearly secured.

The instant the lights were on, Richie, with all his body weight behind him, lurched right, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Because of her position, she was unable to get her arms beneath her in time, and her head hit the tile hard. She blinked against the white flash of pain, but by the time she got her bearings, Richie was already retrieving his knife.

Watching him struggle to his feet, Tara changed tactics. She backed into the living room to put some space between them so she could possibly get another weapon. But before she could assess the room, Richie rushed her with a loud cry.

He clumsily wrestled her to the ground in a mess of thrashing limbs. Because of his size, he gained the upper hand quickly and straddled her. Tara fought against him, lashing out violently with her hands, and her nails managed to catch on the side of his face.

Gasping, she dug them deeper into his skin and, with all her strength, pulled.

A yell of agony tore its way out of his throat, and Tara could feel his skin peel beneath her fingers and get stuck under her nails. But he didn’t let up. His fingers found their way around her throat and squeezed.

He had her pinned down. His fingers had a death grip around her throat and her vision was beginning to go dark around the edges.

She thought she saw a flash of something behind Richie, but she paid it no mind, keeping all of her focus and strength on punching and kicking and squirming. He pressed down on her trachea even harder, and Tara choked.

But then, Richie screamed and all at once his hands released her throat, and she could breathe again.

He careened to the side and only then did Tara notice the knife sticking from his left side. She looked back up and saw you with wide, terrified eyes. Despite the danger, she took a moment to appreciate the circumstance before her.

You had picked up his knife and stabbed him with it. She would have smiled if her throat wasn’t on fire.

Another ragged cough tore its way from Tara’s throat and that brought your attention from her attacker to her. Your eyes softened and you started toward her. But Richie wasn’t down just yet.

He wrenched the knife from his side with a grunt. With rage in his eyes, he turned to you, staggering unsteadily back to his feet with the knife tight in his grip.

“You fucking bitch!” he roared.

You froze and, without any other option, fled into the kitchen with Richie stumbling closely behind. Just as your fingers brushed the hilt of one of the knives in the block, he snagged the neckline of your shirt and yanked you back.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Richie pinned you against him, one arm steadily anchored around your ribcage and the other, the one with the bloodied knife, rising above his head. Tara tried to stand, but equilibrium was shockingly hard to regain at that moment.

She was just getting to her knees when he plunged the knife into your stomach. The pained scream that you let out would haunt Tara for the rest of her life.

Richie smirked, wide and unruly. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

The only response you gave was a whimper. He grabbed you by the neck and slammed your head down onto the kitchen counter. Hard. A loud crack echoed off the walls and you fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Words like rage, fury, and anger were far too soft to describe the feeling that overtook her when your body hit the ground.

The emotion that overcame her was rough and discordant, and primitive. It bled over her vision, tainting it dark crimson, and pushed her to her feet with a newfound balance and sick certainty.

At full speed, Tara ran and latched onto him, using all of her body weight to throw him back onto the living room carpet.

Richie tried to stand again, but Tara tackled him back down and straddled him. But Tara punched him once, hard, then again and again and again until his head lolled and his grip slackened, leaving the knife to fall onto the carpet beside him.

Seeing him lying under her, bruised and defeated, didn’t satisfy Tara, nor did the ache in her knuckles. Not after he hurt you so badly. She needed him to bleed. She needed him to suffer.

He needed to pay.

Steady fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife at her side. As she raised it above her head, she found a certain poeticism in it—the fact that Richie was going to meet his end at the hands of the true Ghostface, with his own weapon.

With a deep breath, she allowed the savage tidal wave of emotion to wash over her, and she saw more than felt the way she slammed the knife down. Time became a blur of movement. Red clouded her vision, but she could feel everything—the hard hilt of the knife, the give of the flesh beneath it, the satisfying crunch of bone.

The image of you being stabbed playing over and over and over, fueling the raging wildfire within her.

By the time she returned to herself, there was an all-encompassing silence; the only sounds impeding it were her labored breaths.

The knife in her hand was slick with blood. A fierce ache ran from her forearms to her shoulders. Tara looked down at her victim and her brows furrowed.

What remained of Richie’s head was a mess of jutting bone fragments, scattered clumps of blood-soaked hair, and chunks of torn flesh. Amongst the soup of blood, bone, and brains, there was an eyeball rolled off to the right. Distantly, she wondered where the other one was.

Looking further down, Tara noticed the amount of blood on the ground. The carpet was drenched in red, and given how saturated it looked, she wouldn’t be surprised if it soaked all the way through to the hardwood beneath it.

Tara exhaled sharply through her nose. That carpet would definitely have to be replaced.

Her eyes moved off the ground and toward the kitchen, where your limp form entered her vision. Immediately, she dropped the knife and ran to you, dropping to her knees beside you.

She scrambled to press her fingers to your neck, and thankfully, she found a pulse. It was weaker than she would’ve liked, but it was steady. You were holding on for her, and that meant everything to Tara.

Turning her attention back to your wound, she assessed the damage. The blade was still lodged firmly inside your stomach, and she hadn’t enough medical knowledge to know whether it pierced anything important based just off its positioning alone, but she knew not to take the knife out.

So she pressed her hands down around it as hard as she could. You let out a pained breath in your unconscious state but showed no signs of rousing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

All that mattered was making sure that you stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She knew you listened to her earlier, so authorities should be on their way with medical help in tow.

But she would be lying if she said her composure didn’t begin to slip with each passing second of silence.

What got her most was the blood. Tara was accustomed to gore and had long passed the point where anything like that bothered her, much less the sight of just blood, but this was your blood, and it was everywhere.

On her hands, slipping between her fingers, pooling beneath you, staining her pants, on your face, drying just beneath your nostrils.

All Tara could see was red, red, red, and not because of her anger, but because of her inability to protect you when it mattered.

The door opened, slamming harshly against the wall, and Tara jumped, instinctively putting herself between you and whoever was approaching.

She glanced back and saw her sister standing in the doorway, leaning against it slightly as she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and Sam visibly relaxed. “Tara—"

Her gaze wandered left, and Sam stopped short by the door; eyes glued on the mess of human flesh laying limp on the carpet. Cursing silently, Tara squeezed her eyes shut.

She rushed to find any sort of justification, but it was hard when her world was falling apart before her eyes and beneath her hands.

“He—he hurt—” Tara broke off into a sob, the blood on her hands burning nearly as much as her throat.

Sam tore her eyes away from Richie’s remains and looked back over to her younger sister. Her eyes widened and Tara assumed that she finally noticed your worrying state. Tara kept her hands firmly pressed to your wound as she watched Sam, trying to figure out what her next move would be.

Finally, she said, “It’s okay,” sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than Tara. She nodded to herself, repeated it, “It’s okay.”

Slowly, she moved from her place by the door and approached the body, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick the closer she edged to it.

“What are you—” Tara started, eyes wide, but Sam interrupted.

“Listen, when the police come, you’re going to tell them that I did this.”

Tara blinked, lost. “W-What?”

Sam, with a pale grimace, reached down to the mass of flesh and began doing a mixture of spreading and splattering the warm, leaking blood on her shirt, face, and arms. Then she came to kneel on the other side of you, giving you a long mournful look before she spoke to Tara.

“When they ask you what happened, you tell them that he was trying to hurt you and I did…that to him because of it. Okay?”

Nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t take the fall for Sam if it were the other way around, so the fact that Sam was so willing to do it for her was…it was rousing feelings she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Why?” Tara asked, bewildered.

“Having this on your record, even if it was self-defense, will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have a bright future, Tara, and I’m protecting that.”

Traces of the affection she once felt for her sister flared up and to her surprise, Tara felt more tears well up in her eyes and spill over. Real tears accompanying the achingly real tightness in her chest. “Sam—”

Sam just shook her head. “You know how Sheriff Hicks feels about me; she’ll be more than happy to put this on my record. You’re going to be ok. Both of you will. I promise.”

Gently, she leaned her forehead against Tara’s and kept it pressed there until sirens blared in the distance. When Sam stood and went over to kneel by Richie, Tara blinked away her tears and pressed her hands down harder on your wound.

Police burst through the door, and everything blurred for Tara. The world became a cacophony of lights and sounds and movement, and she only snapped back to reality when paramedics started trying to take you away from her.

In her mind, she knew she should let them take you. That you were much safer in the hands of professionals that could properly tend to you, but the logical part of her brain was quickly overshadowed the moment someone tried to pull her away.

Because she needed to be next to you. She needed to feel your pulse, see the rise and fall of your chest with her own eyes to make sure that you were still alive.

So she fought every hold on her, twisted violently against the increasing number of hands clutching onto her, trying to separate her from you. And she nearly succeeded. She was so close, so close to making it back to your side.

A prick in her neck was the last thing she felt before the world faded to nothing, the last remnants of your name dying on her tongue.

A monotonous beeping in your ear was the first thing that you registered.

The second was how weird you felt. You felt heavy and weightless at the same time. You cracked your eyes open and instantly closed them against the blinding brightness you were met with. Briefly, you wondered if you died, but something told you that the afterlife didn’t smell like antiseptics.

Once more, you opened your eyes, going slower so your eyes could properly adjust, and finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room and a glance to your left told you that the annoying beeping you heard was a heart monitor.

Awareness slowly crept back into your dazed mind. The moments came back one by one, flashing against the back of your eyelids as you blinked.

Ghostface attacking Sam. You going upstairs and calling 911. Running down and helping Tara.

Tara.

With a gasp, you jolted up. Your wound gave a powerful throb in response, cutting straight through the pain meds but you ignored it.

The last thing you remembered was the man—Richie? —thrusting a knife into you, then your face met the hard marble of the kitchen counter and that was it.

Was Tara ok? Did Sam make it? Was Ghostface caught and apprehended?

Those questions fueled you to sit up but you only made it halfway before strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“No, don’t move.”

Recognition sparked instantly. You knew that voice. Tara.

The need to know that she was alright nearly made you frantic as you looked at her, and took in her state.

She had a fading bruise on her cheek, and there was some much harsher, nearly black bruising around her neck, but otherwise, she looked fine, if a bit tired. You let out a sigh of relief.

You tried to lift your hand to her neck, but you only made it about halfway before Tara caught it and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Looks worse than it,” she said with a small grin, but you could hear the strain. It reminded you of the ache in your throat after what your father did, the bruises he left behind.

You looked away, decided to focus on the other questions plaguing your mind.

“What happened to the man? Is Sam okay?”

Tara’s eyes flashed with something, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Richie’s dead.”

“The police killed him?”

She looked away then and played with your fingers. “No, Sam did.”

“Sam?” you asked in disbelief. That didn’t seem quite right, but you couldn’t pinpoint why.

You looked at Tara, saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was worrying her lip between her teeth, the tension in her brow, and you decided to believe her.

It had been a long, hard night for everyone, and you heard whisperings of something deeper going on with Sam, so maybe she was capable of that. After all, weren’t you?

And either way, it was self-defense. He attacked first, unprovoked. The world was probably better without him, as much as the thought put a bitter taste in your mouth.

Plus, Tara would never lie to you.

“Is she alright?” You decided on after minutes of processing.

Tara nodded. “Yeah, she’s stable. She’s in the room across the hall. The sheriff kicked me out to take her statement.”

“Can you tell her I said hi? And thanks for making sure Richie couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

That made Tara freeze. Just for a moment before she seemed to catch herself, but you saw it nonetheless. “Yeah, of course.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have half a mind to ask Tara about her odd behavior or at least store it away for later contemplation, but as it stood, the pain medication was already sweeping the incident away.

Silence lapsed and you both just enjoyed one another’s presence, basking in the knowledge that the other was safe and sound.

The tempting call of sleep tugged at you. You tried to stay in the moment, but you were drifting. You could tell and so could Tara, who coaxed your attention to her with a gentle stroke of her thumb across your knuckles.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you slurred, eyes already drifting closed.

You could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Of course.”

She lulled you to sleep with the promise and a final, tight squeeze of your hand, and you drifted off into a drug-induced slumber with thoughts of your gentle, loving girlfriend at the forefront of your mind.

#this fic was written while almost exclusively listening to sonic the hedgehog music #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!tara #scream #jenna ortega #i don't care how well this does #i just want it out of my face...#sorry this sucks lmao #this whole series isn't very good tho #so i guess that's the standard

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animekpopsimp · 9 months

Text

Being The Oldest Todoroki Daughter

You're Toya's Twin Sister

The two of you had always been close ever since you were younger

Both of you felt pressured to be good enough for your father, pushing yourselves beyond your limit during training

You two were each other's support

However, things only seemed to get worse

Fuyumi and Natsuo being born made you both happy and worried

Then Shoto came along and your father focused on him, calling Shoto his masterpiece

Both you and Toya felt Jealous since you wanted your father's approval

You didn't hate Shoto, but Toya held more resentment toward the youngest of you all

You tried to make him realize that it was all your father's fault, but he didn't listen

Even comfort from Natsuo didn't help you feel completely better

You, Toya, Fuyumi and Natsuo didn't see Shoto very often, since your father kept him busy with training

You barely saw your mother either

Then came the incident when Rei had enough of the way she had been treated by Endeavor

She ended up pouring boiling water on Shoto's face, which caused her to be sent to a mental hospital

Things became even more tense in your home after that

And one day, Toya died

You were heartbroken, since out of all your siblings you felt closest to him

It was at that point that you distanced yourself from your entire family, even Natsuo and Fuyumi

You hadn't been that close to Shoto, but at that point you barely even went near him

You swore to yourself that you would become a better hero than your father ever could be

Not to make him happy, but to spite him

When you grew up, you made it as a hero, moving out of the home you had grown up in for some long

Deep down, you felt bad for your sibling, but you didn't know how to form a proper relationship with them

You wouldn't even consider trying to fix things with your father

Some time later, you finally found the bravery to visit your mother

Though it was awkward at first, you did end up mending things with her a bit

It made you happy to know she didn't hate you, considering how much you look like your father

She was glad you had moved out and started your own life, and she was proud of you for being such an amazing hero

After visiting your mother, you finally gathered the courage to talk to your siblings again

Fuyumi was the most willing, having missed you since you left the home

Natsuo was a bit hesitant, but came around after a short while

The two of you bonded over the anger you felt toward your father

Shoto was a different story

At first, he didn't really want to see you

Part of him resented you for leaving, and the fact that Endeavor wasn't as tough on you as he was on him

But, after some time, the two of you slowly became close

He really started to feel close to you when you stood up to your father how he was hurting Shoto

He started admiring you after that

He even picked your agency to intern with instead of your father's, which Endeavor wasn't too happy with that

Though, neither of you cared

It felt nice to be close to your siblings after all the time that you had spent barely being around them

You watched as Shoto made his way through UA

And despite all the dangers he faced along the way, he always persevered

During one of your patrols, you met Dabi

There was something familiar about him, but you just couldn't figure it out

It bothered you for a while, until you were given the answer

During what could only be called a war, Dabi was spotted on top of the giant villain

At that moment, you got your answe

Dabi was actually Toya, your twin brother

And he followed through with his plan of exposing your father and all that he had done

You tried your best to stop him, even if he was your brother

You knew your father wouldn't be up for.the task, so you would step up

There was no more Toya, only Dabi

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badkitty3000 · 2 months

Text

MY MASTER LIST OF NUMBER FIVE FANFICTION

I write exclusively Number Five Hargreeves smutty fanfiction. If you have any requests for one shots featuring Five x reader-insert or my original characters, please let me know! I am always up for new ideas and would love to hear yours! Use the Ask Me Anything button for requests.

The only "rules" I have are as follows ( no judgement to anyone, I just have my preferences):

Five will be aged up to at least 17 or 18 (body wise) or older

Five is an old man underneath it all, so no teenage romances or crushes

No rape/non-con, but dub-con is ok

No ABO, hardcore BDSM, Yandere

POSTED ON TUMBLR:

Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee -Chapters 1-6

Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee-Chapters 7-

**Ongoing work in progress**

Five x Female Reader, Klaus x Female Reader, Ongoing Multichapter

Summary: You and Klaus are in a casual relationship. No ties, just sex. When you start spending a lot of time at his apartment, you somehow manage to break through his brother's prickly outer shell. He seems to like you, or at least tolerate you the best that Five can. When you start to realize that maybe there is more than just mutual friendship between the two of you, it opens up a lot of feelings and unanswered questions. And a lot of problems.

Physical Fitness

Five x Female Reader, 2800 words, one-shot

Summary: Five has been distant lately, but you discover all he needs is a good workout to get his mind back on you again

Lewd Public Acts

Five x Female OC, 7,412 words, one-shot

Summary: Getting busy in a public space with people around? The idea of someone witnessing everything becomes a turn on for Five's wife, and he is definitely up for the challenge. After all, he can never deny her anything. And, let's face it; there might be something in it for him, too.

Addicted

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 3,199 words, one-shot

Summary: Sometimes our bodies get a taste of something so good that it's nearly impossible to quit. No matter how bad it is for us. And right now that something is Five Hargreeves.

Weak

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 4,891 words, one-shot, continuation of Addicted, from Five's POV.

Summary: Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries to hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Strength

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 4,427 words, one-shot, continuation of Addicted and Weak

Summary: Five is finally strong enough to give in to his true feelings and tell you how he feels. You are strong enough to let him.

The Download

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 31, 310 words, 5 chapters

Summary: It's the end of the world and everyone you know is gone. After you find yourself at the Hotel Obsidian, you realize you have something in common with the rest of the remaining population. When Number Five takes a particular interest in you, and your special ability, the evening turns into much more than you expected. The universe may be hours away from imploding, but you and Five are going out with a bang.

Chapters 1 and 2

Chapters 3, 4, 5

All Of My Works On AO3

Halo (Series)

Five x Female OC multi-part series that follows Five and his eventual wife, Vivian, through many stages of their life together. 5 parts total.

All parts in this series rated E for explicit sex.

Halo

First part in series, 25,460 words, 7 chapters

Summary: What starts as a one-night stand eventually turns into a growing romance. Number Five and Vivian are drawn to one another, despite their initial resistance. However, Five's past makes a relationship difficult and she has some issues of her own. Despite an unhealthy codependency, their lives are intertwined. For better or for worse.

Hole In My Soul

Second part in series, 30,903 words, 11 chapters

Summary: Vivian and Five now have an established relationship and are in love. She melds easily into the Hargreeves family as Five finally discloses their relationship to his siblings. But some disturbing behavior from Five makes Viv re-evaluate her choices. Will their love for one another be enough when life throws them a curve ball and they have some tough decisions to make?

Just Like Heaven

Third part in series, 25,362 words, 8 chapters

Summary: Vivian and Five have been actively trying to start a family, but to no avail. The stress is wearing on them both and it's affecting their once solid relationship. With the last few months left on Five's Commission contract, he is looking forward to putting that part of his life in the past. However, Viv is soon confronted with a harsh truth that puts their relationship in jeopardy.

Promise To Kill

Fourth part in series, 86,881 words, 12 chapters

Summary: Five is married to the love of his life, with a young son, and the retirement life he always dreamed. Everything is perfect. Which should have been Five's first clue that something was going to go wrong. A new discovery involving his child leads to a horrible family tragedy. The Umbrella Academy has to step up to save the day and Five's family.

Our Forever

Fifth and final part in series, 32,175 words, 8 chapters

Summary: Five's never been great with healthy coping skills. Even after all this time. When he is faced with a horrible tragedy and he doesn't know how to cope, he blames himself, as usual. But this time, it seems it can't be fixed. Until a sudden vision from beyond makes him realize that maybe he can after all.

Five/Vivian One-Shot Series

Five x OC collection of one-shots that show little glimpses into Five and Vivian's life over the years, in no particular order or timeline. 11 works in total.

All works in this series rated E or M for explicit sex/smut

Damaged 3,210 words

Extra Credit 6,436 words

Piece de Resistance aka The French Lady Incident 7,999 words

The New Neighbor 7,136 words

Sharp Dressed Man 5,514 words, co-authored by KayBreezy

Coming And Going 5,491 words

Let's Hear It For The Boy 7,508 words

You Are My Constant 19,757 words

Summary: This is technically a one-shot, but it's longer because it depicts Five and Vivian's honeymoon and contains more plot and character development

Lewd Public Acts 7,412 words (same story that is posted on Tumblr)

When Number Five Steps Out, He's Gonna Do You In 8,730 words, co-authored by KayBreezy

Take Me To Church 6,465 words

Works separate from my series:

The Sexual Awakenings Of Mr. Number Five Hargreeves

Five x Various Female OCs, 40,516 words, 8 chapters

Rated E for explicit sex

Summary: Relatively speaking, it wasn’t that long ago that Five was a total moron when it came to sex, and women in general. Having spent his most formative years isolated and alone, once he was thrown back into society, his lack of experience was obvious.... And even though he tried not to let it bother him, he quickly realized that it did. It bothered him a lot.

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Five x Female OC (unnamed), Five x Dolores, 6,029 words, one-shot

Rated M for smut/sex

Summary: Five is trying his hardest to be in a real relationship with someone that cares about him. When he comes across a familiar face in a thrift shop window, all of his dreams of normalcy are dashed. And he can't help the decades-old feelings that resurface.

The Assassin's Date

Five x Female OC, 59,057 words, 9 chapters

Rated E for explicit sex

Summary: After saving the world, Five Hargreeves is working as an independent hitman for hire. When a tough and beautiful woman is witness to one of his crimes, the last thing Five wants to do is kill her. Instead, he makes her a deal. If she goes on one date with him, he'll let her live. When she agrees, he can't help but notice that the date might be fake, but his feelings are real.

All Apologies

Five, The Hargreeves Siblings, Five x Dolores, 21,892 words, 4 chapters

Rated T for teen (language, mentions of masturbation)

Summary: All Five had wanted to do was to keep his family safe, and away from their father. As the young Umbrella Academy pull further away from one another, Five desperately tries to make them see that their only chance at a happy life is to get out from under Reginald's rule. His methods of convincing, however, lead to misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and typical Hargreeves drama. Years later, when Five is alone with only Dolores to talk to, he finds himself thinking back on all of his mistakes.

The Download

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 31,310 words, 5 chapters (also posted on Tumblr)

Rated E for explicit sex

The Text Mess

Five, Klaus, 5,576, one-shot, co-authored by KayBreezy

Rated T for teen (sexual references, clothed dick pics)

Summary: With no apocalypse looming, and Reginald gone, left with their powers but not much else, the Hargreeves were finally getting to figure out life on their own terms. Number Five was doing what he always did. He was surviving and doing his best to move on from his traumatic past, though the success of that endeavor was evident in the day-to-day reality of his new self-inflicted dark and lonely existence. And then along came Klaus...

Full Circle

Five x Female OC, 96,272 words, 14 chapters

Rated E for explicit sex, threats of rape, violence, child abuse

Summary: Even without an apocalypse to head off, Five has lived a hard life. Physical and emotional abuse from his father, along with devastating heartbreak; this is all he knows throughout his teenage years. As an adult, he becomes a Mafia Hitman. And not a Hitman with a heart of gold. After years of childhood trauma, Five is willing to kill, no questions asked, for the crime family he works for. When the one person in his life that ever meant anything to him shows up ten years later, he's willing to love and be loved again. But everything comes at a price.

It's A Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

Five x Female OC, 22,594 words, 5 chapters

Rated E for explicit sex

Summary: Five years after he and his siblings were abandoned by their father, and with no powers, Number Five is visited by his guardian angel. An annoyingly chipper woman that is anything but your typical angel. When he is unable to get rid of her, he finally gives in and she shows him what it means to be grateful for what he has and to stop pushing his family away. Inspired by both A Christmas Carol and It's A Wonderful Life.

Addicted

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 3,199 words, one-shot (also posted on Tumblr)

Rated M for smut/sex

Summary: Sometimes our bodies get a taste of something so good that it's nearly impossible to quit. No matter how bad it is for us. And right now that something is Five Hargreeves.

Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee

Five x Female Reader-Insert, Klaus x Female Reader-Insert, Multi-Chapter work in progress

Rated E for explicit sex

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sentientgolfball · 7 months

Note

you and i share a dangerous obsession with phantom its dangerous!!! anyways may i request a hurt/comfort type of scenario. everywhere i look its just phantom angst and being excluded from the ghoul pack so why not contribute to this trend!!!!!

reader is out in the woods taking a stroll when they're suddenly charged at by a dog but hearing their scream, phantom comes in and chases the dog away. reader and phantom havent had much interaction with one another given how badly the ghoul pack shoves him away and when reader realizes this, they take him back to their room where they ease phantom with affection and phantom basically MELTS

hes being given more attention by a human than his pack :[

sorry for the lengthy request!!!

Never apologize for a lengthy request ! I hope you like this one I kinda made it a mutual hurt/comfort. Everyone gets to be sad and everyone gets a hug

My requests are open !

The crunching of the leaves underfoot comes to an abrupt halt. You stop and slowly scan the wilderness surrounding you. It’s green and lush, teeming with life and the sweet smells of blooming wildflowers. The whole forest is cast in a golden glow as the setting sun pours through the foliage. You close your eyes and throw your head back and let out a deep sigh that’s been stuck in you all day. You feel the prick of tears in the corners of your eyes but you will yourself not to let them gather. You were out here to feel better, not worse.

You really don’t know what got to you, but for the past few days you’ve felt like absolute shit. You didn’t understand it, everything was going pretty good in your life you knew that. You got promoted to lead your job at the Ministry, you’ve made a cluster of new friends from the influx of Siblings, and you still maintained close ties with your friends who volunteered to go to different branches. But something struck you every so often. Normally you had enough around you to distract you, but one night one off handed comment that was meant to be more of a joke than anything made something within you bubble. You tried so hard to make it go away, to not focus on it, to rationalize with yourself but you just couldn’t. It put you in a slump for the whole weekend. You had to force yourself to chip away at the project you were tasked with. You had to force yourself to shower. You didn’t have enough left in you to do your laundry or clean your space by the end of the day. You needed to get lost in something that wasn’t your mind. That’s what led you out into the middle of the woods. You remember something about nature being good for mental health.

You walked for a while, stopping every so often to take a picture of a mushroom or leaf that stood out to you. When the forest got darker you decided it was time to head back to the Ministry, you didn’t feel much better but you couldn’t stay outside forever. You started walking back the way you came letting your feet drag on. You really didn’t want to have to return to the real world, but you knew you had to. You continued a bit farther before stopping.

Didn’t I already pass that stump?

You take out your phone to check your pictures only to realize it had died. How did you not realize it was so low before coming out into the middle of the woods? You cursed and looked around in an attempt to get your bearings, but it was only getting dark as the sun sank before the horizon. You felt sick as the realization that you were lost starts to sink into your mind. You looked in each direction briefly considering picking a path and following it, but it would do you no good. Everything looked the same in the fading light and it made you disoriented. You hang your head in defeat and try to convince yourself that sleeping outside for one night wouldn’t be so bad.

Well…at least it can’t get any worse.

You should’ve kept your thoughts to yourself. You hear a howl in the distance and you freeze, tensing. You forgot about the hellhounds. How could you forget about the hellhounds.

To be fair, the hounds only appeared at night to act as guards for Ministry grounds and you typically were not out and about after dinner. The issue now, though, is you have no idea what to do. If the hounds catch you you’re definitely dead. If you stay put they’ll find you easily. If you run they’ll chase the scent and you’ll just get more lost.

You don’t have a lot of time to think before you hear a twig snap. You whip around to find the source and see two red pinhole eyes creeping out from the brush. It’s growling low, drool dripping from its maw. It snaps its teeth and you feel your heart pound in your ears. You slowly start to back up from it before your back hits a tree. You stare wide eyed at the beast and send a quick prayer that whatever it does will be quick and painless. You see the way its hind legs shift and you know it’s rearing back to pounce. You screw your eyes shut and hope for the best when you hear its growl turn into a full bark. You wait for the burn of claws and teeth…and you wait.

When the tearing of flesh doesn’t come you crack open your eyes to see a soft purple glow and a tail waving side to side. You watch the hellhound creep closer to the figure, sniff it, and then turn and dart into the bush it first came out of. The second it’s gone the glow disappears and the ghoul hunches over with his hands on his knees.

“Lord’s below that was terrible. The puppies are so cute I don’t understand how they grow into that.”

“Uhh…”

“Oh!” He turns around suddenly “Are you alright? It didn’t bite you did it? Oh what am I thinking if it did you wouldn’t be standing here.”

You stare at the ghoul in front of you. The left half of his face is cracked with lichtenberg figure scars that dip below the neckline of his top. His eyes are mismatched, one the typical color for quintessence, the other looks almost hollow with the pupil glowing faintly. He has a shock of white in his hair that perfectly lines up with the end of one of the branches of his scars. But all that isn’t what catches your attention. No, what you notice is the very obvious streaks of dried tears on his cheeks.

“Yeah…yeah I’m okay. Uh are you?”

“Hm? Oh yea! The hellhounds won’t attack ghouls. We smell like the Infernal to them.”

“That’s not” you pause and shake your head “You’re Phantom right? One of the new papal ghouls?”

His posture goes rigid when you say this but he nods anyway. He asks for your name and you give it to him and you are suddenly very aware of the tension in the air. After a moment he clears his throat.

“If you don’t mind me asking…why are in the woods? I thought humans couldn’t survive outside for long.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the statement. The way he said it was filled with such genuine curiosity it made your heart warm. But then you remembered why you were out there and your face fell again. His scars seemed to pulse dimly with light and the ghoul suddenly looked panicked.

“No, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by that I was just—“

You shake your head “No it’s not anything you did Phantom. I just…had a rough couple of days. Needed somewhere to go.”

His eyes scan over you for a moment before he wraps himself in a hug, tail curling around his leg.

“Yeah I…I don’t know much about humans, but I think I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah?”

You look up at him and your heart breaks when you see just how small he looks. You tentatively reach towards him and you’re taken aback by how quickly he jumps into you. You freeze for a second not really sure what to do with a ghoul wrapped around you. You know ghouls are pack creatures so this is normal behavior. You slowly bring your arms up and around him, patting his back softly. That seems to do the trick as you feel his tail wrap loosely around your leg. You shudder feeling a zap of quintessence ripple through you. He pulls back just enough to look at you. He looks like he got punched in the gut.

“I can make that go away. It’ll be easy and you’ll be happy again.”

“What?” You say astonished before mentally slapping yourself. Quintessence ghouls can sense emotion, and in rare cases read minds.

“Just let me make someone happy please.” He sounds desperate, almost afraid.

“Phantom you can’t…make me happy. Well okay technically yes you can, but that’s magic. It’s going to change what’s wrong.”

He hesitates “What is wrong?”

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before sighing and untangling yourself from him. You slump down against a tree and close your eyes, resting your head against the trunk. A quick smile flashes onto your face when you feel him sit next to you, tail now twining around your arm. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. Something about the way he looks at you makes you feel safe, seen. You feel your throat burn and you cough before you begin to explain what’s been causing you so much grief.

You were lonely.

“I know it must be such a silly thing for me to complain about…especially to a ghoul.” You say finishing out your tangent.

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head “No I get it..”

You look up from where you had been playing with his fingers and gasp seeing the tears welling in his eyes.

“Phantom what’s—“

You were cut off by him pulling you into another hug, but this one was filled with something deep.

“Why do they all hate me? I didn’t ask for this! I try so hard to be everything they need so maybe they’ll keep me around.”

“Phantom?”

“But they don’t! They always pair off and I’m the odd one out every time! I know they’d rather have Aether. I’m not stupid, but why won’t they just give me a chance?”

“Phantom.”

“I know I’m just a waste of resources to them. I know none of them would bat an eye if I just disappeared.”

“Phantom!”

He stops and stares at you wide eyed, tears running down his face. You gently reach out and hold his cheek in your hand. He melts into the touch as a sob wracks his body.

“I want you here.”

“But…we just met. Why do you care? Why would you want me?”

“I could ask you the same. You came to help me without even knowing my name.”

He sniffs “I wasn’t gonna just let you get ripped to little fleshy bits.”

You cringe a little at his choice of words but continue “I don’t know the full extent of what’s going on but…it sounds like you could use someone to help fend off those bad thoughts.”

“Like a friend?”

“Yeah” you smile “Like a friend. We can be alone together. How about that?”

“I think I need that.”

You pull him into you and let him lay his head on your chest. You two sit like that for a long time, silently bathing in each other’s presence. You let a few more tears fall from your eyes. For the little ghoul that was so shunned by his pack he had to find comfort in a human who barely knew him. For yourself who had so many people around them but still felt this hole deep inside of your soul. For both of you who found each other.

You run a hand through his hair when you hear the softest of purrs vibrate through him. It sounds a bit scratchy at first, but soon it turns into an even rumble. You gently shake him.

“Hey it’s getting cold…we should probably find our way back inside.”

“Oh” his ears droop “Yeah you’re probably right.”

“Do you wanna…would you maybe wanna stay with me for the night.”

He instantly perks up “Really? I mean I would love to. I yes I would yes.”

You both stand and he leads the way once you explain to him that you actually have no idea where you’re at. You take over, though, once into the Ministry. You both curl up under your mound of blankets and spend the rest of the night going back and forth about the things that plague your mind, about the stupid things that make you smile, about each other until you fall into a deep sleep feeling content with the weight next to you, but also the weight that disappeared from your shoulders.

Maybe being alone wasn't so bad if it led you to him.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #phantom x reader #i hope you like it anon <3 #nameless ghoul x reader #golfball writes

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muzanswaifu · 1 year

Text

A Step Ahead - II

Part I

Yandere! Tomioka x Fem! Reader

18+

Previous Choice: "Start Running"

This is the second round of the game. Census has determined that you shall run away from the man who is following you. You have temporarily escaped. This action will have consequences. Too many grave choices will result in g a m e o v e r. Tread carefully.

Warnings: Yandere, Arguing, Stalking, Smut later on

You briefly went through your options, fighting with yourself over the chances of both embarrassing yourself and putting yourself in danger. What if he was just a normal guy? Surely he would be offended at your assumption of his character. But what if he wasn’t normal? What if his intentions were less than pure? In that case, causing some hurt feelings would be the least of your worries.

Run.

You hesitantly began to pick up your pace down the path, taking deep breaths and straining your ears to listen for any sound of chase. It was quiet. Too quiet. You began to run faster. And faster. A light jog turning into a sprint as your anxieties rose and rose. Your mind plagued you with images of the man nipping at your heels, nearly at your neck. Your breaths came hard and dry, lack of stamina becoming your second worst enemy in the moment. You still didn’t hear anything, but what if that was because he truly was right behind you? Your heart raced and threatened to escape your chest as you ran faster and faster, desperate to get out of the forest.

After what seemed like an eternity of flight and fear, light pierced your vision, leading a holy trail to the entrance of town. Just a little farther and you were saved.

You gasped as you escaped the wood, stumbling through the main gate and leaning up against the pillar of a light post. You heaved for breath, bile rising in your throat from the acidity in your stomach from the sudden exercise. You shouldn’t have had so many snacks at the festival.

Gulping in air, you finally looked back toward the trail, limbs trembling as you prepared yourself for the fright of an emerging assailant.

But no one came.

Only a slight gust of wind passed through, scattering a few leaves across the grass and tickling your feet. You groaned and shook your head at your own gullibility. So dramatic.

You sulked back to your house embarrassed and angry at your own stupid paranoia. Why would some guy follow you home without even attempting to hide himself? You felt sorry for him, even, as you had judged him so quickly. You’d probably spooked him by running away like that as well. Hopefully you’d never see him again. It would just be too humiliating.

“And just where have you been all night young lady? You’re past curfew!” Mother scolded. Father sat at the table still eating dinner, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I just… forgot to watch the time.” It wasn’t a lie… technically.

Mother clicked her tongue at you and waddled away, her pregnant belly long past showing. “It’s bad enough that you didn’t spend New Year’s here with your family and now you have the audacity to come late. Where you get the gall for this is beyond me.”

Your father finally broke his silence with a sigh, “Dear, she’s here now. Let’s not sour the mood.”

She huffed and stomped off to the table to sit next to the rest of your siblings. Next to the food. Next to the (favorite flavor) pie.

“(Favorite flavor)!” you squealed, skipping over to the table to get yourself a slice. All that running already had you hungry again. But a cruel hand slapped yours away.

“Nope. Rule breaking means no dessert, (y/n),” Mother hissed.

“What? But Mo-”

“No.”

Your fists clenched, frustration building. She was always like this on holidays when your older siblings were home, chiding you over the smallest things to make some ridiculous point. It’d only gotten worse since her pregnancy started, her hormones all over the place and making her that much more unbearable. Father just sat there quietly, obviously too exhausted to stick up for you yet again. Your siblings all just snickered.

“Ugh, can’t you cut me a break?” you snapped. You’d already talked to her about this a million times already. You were an adult now. Shouldn’t that come with some leniency? Even though it was over some dessert, she started this fight and you wanted to finish it.

“I’ll cut you a break when you're done living under my roof. Or, better yet, when you pay some bills around here,” she hissed. Ouch.

You bit your lip and walked off toward your room, done with arguing. If you continued, you’d no doubt she’d start crying and then everyone would get mad at you even though she deserved it.

“And no more going outside tonight!” she called out, rubbing more salt in the wound. She knew you liked to take walks at night through the town and write. That or you would sneak off to the new cinema theater in town and watch movies, you knew the owner's daughter so you could go whenever you wanted. It was the only free time you would get since most of your day was occupied with chores and work.

You angrily slid your door shut, the wood slamming closed with a loud smack. It was childish, but it made you feel better. You leaped into your bed and groaned, exhausted from today. Everything was so exhausting. You wish you’d just stayed the night with someone and dealt with this all tomorrow. Hell, you wish that guy actually was following you. That would’ve been a nice excuse to make your mother feel bad for being so cruel to you. She’d always been so hard on you for no reason. Perhaps it was because she expected you to be out of the house already. She had been using that to berate you lately, especially when you failed to meet her expectations. If you could’ve you would, you just didn’t have the money yet.

You rolled over to lay on your back and kick your feet in the air.

You could also find a boyfriend, you supposed. That way you could move in with him and leave everyone to wallow in your absence. You’d love to see them try to survive when you weren’t here to do the laundry, clean the kitchen, get the groceries, and take care of your younger siblings. In fact, they all took you for granted. You did almost everything around here. They were the ones who weren’t pulling their load.

You still had some fight left in you, but if you went out now, you would most definitely get yourself in a world of trouble. But if you stayed in your room, you felt like you were losing the war...

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b1mbodoll · 8 months

Note

omg!!!!! the seeun + yunjin dranble ^○^ mind is so empty they were so perfect <3 thank you for writing them u literally r so insanely talented (and so so cool i am such a big fan! read: kiss me on the mouth) 😵‍💫 also omg the ghostface thoughts????? so insane i actually started loosing my mind ^^

just imagine ghostface!siblings jakehoon who have been watching you, their adorable little neighbor from their window when you dress yourself and strip at night (￣^￣)ゞ n when they get the idea to get in your pants finally, they cant stop calling you and telling you to touch yourself over the phone with your room lights on so they can see and hear you :( and later when they decide to sneak in your house (while your parents are there!!!!!!!) and fuck u silly in your childhood bed saying it would be such a shame not to make you a mommy 🎀🎀🎀 n telling you how cute u would look with cum all over u! and all u can do is take it while you beg them to stop (but your body is saying something different!!!)

love 🎀 anonie!

pairings: jake sim + park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: noncon + stalking + voyeurism + ghostface! stepbrothers! jakehoon + neighbor! reader + exhibitionism + pregnancy + virgin! reader + manipulation + gaslighting + oral + mention of hymen breaking + dacryphilia + lactation + objectification

💌: im soso glad u liked them <3 i literally Have to smooch u bc u r just the sweetest ever n ur lil msgs make me smile sm bc i nvr thought my silly lil writing was good enough to deserve ur kind words??? we r bffs now i hope u know this

stepbros! jakehoon being so sick n depraved they get off on scaring you into putting on a lil show for them. tell you to keep ur blinds open n lamp on while you touch yourself for them <3 tell u that if you dont put ur phone up to ur cunt so they can hear, that theyre gonna break in n touch your pussy themselves. ghostface! jake is the sweeter of the two, calls you pretty while ur knuckles deep in your cunt n tells you that ur bein’ such a good girl, promises to reward you when they get the courage to break in. ghostface! hoon is a fucking sadist. his dick hardens at the mere thought of pushing past your hymen n breaking it, wonders if you’ll cry from the pain or not even bother wasting ur tears bc you know worse things r coming.

they follow you around while ur running errands and then later that night, call you up n explain in great detail how you looked n what you did today ^^ hoon can’t help it n starts calling you all sorts of mean names bc how could you not realize they were following you? “you’re nothing but a dumb fucking bimbo made for us to toy with, understand? can’t believe you’re so clueless you didn’t see us,” he taunts, “or did you? maybe you saw us ‘nd didnt say a word cus you want us just as bad as we want you, yeah?” you shake your head at his words, phone almost slipping from your grasp while he continues to mock you. “no! i didn’t see you ‘nd i don’t want this please jus’ leave me alone!” you’re so frustrated. for weeks they’ve been insisting you’re a freak that wants to get dicked down by ur stalkers and you’re starting to believe it.

jake and sunghoon break into your house sometimes when ur in the shower. they lay in your bed and jerk their cocks together, cum making a mess of your pillows. steal some dirty panties too bc they r so desperate for your pussy n when they get back to their house the boys sniff ur panties like dogs ^^

they stop calling for a couple of weeks n let you think ur finally free from their torment, but when you find yourself impaled on sunghoon’s cock as jake slaps his dick on ur cheeks before sliding down your throat, you start sobbing bc how could you be so stupid as to think they’d seriously leave you alone? you belong to them whether you know it or not and they show you. make you suck them off at the same time n the brothers do their best to cover ur entire face with cum <3 wna make you completely unrecognizable by painting ur face with it n it makes you clench ur thighs bc the fact that they wna keep u for themselves must mean they’re in love with you.

the first time sunghoon fucks your pussy he instantly becomes obsessed. shoots his load deep inside when your hymen breaks bc the feeling made you cum first, pussy leaving a ring of cum n blood around his thick cock. the two of them are infatuated with your pussy ‘nd fill you up with load after load of cum even if your parents are home. jake’s fixation on your innocence is so sick, makes you cuddle one of ur childhood plushies as his dick rearranges your insides <3 likes when you bite them to keep quiet too

ghostface! jakehoon r also into the idea of getting u pregnant. tell you theyre gonna ruin your “mommycunt” n milk your tits like a cow bc ur nothing more than a breeding bitch to them

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sixhours · 1 month

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One Day at a Time - Chapter 8 - Beginning

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

The midwife is the first to notice that Anna’s startle reflex is inconsistent. When she suggests the baby might be deaf, Joel wants to write it off as the woman’s usual dour attitude, but as the weeks pass, it becomes clear that something is different. It’s impossible to make enough noise to wake her, she doesn’t turn her head toward their voices, and she’s inconsolable when they’re out of her limited line of sight. They spend several sleepless nights worrying, making loud noises and watching Anna intently for responses that usually don’t come.

There’s nothing to do about it, though, except wait and see…like her pregnancy all over again. One day at a time.

Anna is most content when she’s tucked into the soft cloth wrap, held tight against someone’s chest, where she can feel the soothing purr of speech against her tiny body. They get adept at going about their daily routines with the baby strapped to them like a marsupial in a makeshift pouch. She especially seems to like Joel’s soft flannel shirts and his deep, rumbly voice–he’s the best at getting her to nap.

Or, as Ellie puts it, boring her to sleep .

Ellie spends more time with them, enamored with her baby sister in a way Joel couldn’t have predicted. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, having watched her with Sam all those months ago, but her fierce devotion to this brand-new person in their lives makes him light-headed with pride.

Baby things showed up at their house out of the blue in the days after Anna was born; an antique cradle, bottles, more diapers, and a breast pump contraption that Charlie says makes her feel like a dairy cow. There are enough clothes to outfit a small army and mystery casseroles lining their freezer for weeks.

Tonight he takes one of the casseroles out and sniffs at it warily.

“Not sure about this one, kid,” he says to Anna, strapped to his chest. “Can’t be worse than that tuna surprise thing, though. House smelled for a week.”

The baby makes a soft cooing noise and sticks out her tongue in response.

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t have to eat it,” he mutters, turning on the oven.

“Talking to yourself again?” Charlie murmurs from the couch, snuggled under a throw.

“I’m havin’ a conversation with my daughter,” he says, stroking the baby’s head. “And you’re s’posed to be napping.”

She sits up, bleary-eyed and wan. “Can’t sleep. I miss her.”

“Hear that?” he murmurs. “Mama misses you. Maybe you should wake her up more often. Five times last night wasn’t enough.”

Joel wanders over to the couch and unearths the baby from her wrap to hand her to Charlie, who takes her with a smile and a soft hi sweet girl . Warmth blooms in his chest, followed by sadness; the two often go hand in hand.

Sarah never had this, he thinks, and he mourns what he couldn’t give her; the love of a mother, the delight of a new sibling.

But Anna has it all, in this family cobbled together from spare parts and broken pieces. Like the beginning of a bad joke— a widow, an orphan, and a childless father walk into a bar –where she is the most beautiful punchline he’s ever heard.

~*~

Joel comes home to find Ellie on the couch with the baby in her lap and a book on the cushion next to her, frowning in concentration as she flips through the pages. Anna is nine weeks old and more alert than ever, bright eyes taking in everything, and at the moment she’s fascinated by her big sister’s hands, moving in slow, measured gestures in front of her face.

“Where’s Charlie?”

“Your girlfriend is taking a nap,” Ellie says without looking up from her book.

“She’s not–”

He catches himself before he can finish his sentence and Ellie smirks.

“Caught ya.”

Joel sighs. “What’re you doin’?”

She flips to the book cover to show him; An Introduction to American Sign Language .

“Sam taught me some, but I found this at the library. I figured it can’t hurt to start early.”

His throat tightens and he blinks back tears. God, his kids have turned him into a walking fucking water fountain.

“That’s…a great idea, kiddo,” he says, squeezing her shoulder.

“I know,” she says. “Besides, you can use it, too, when your hearing eventually goes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. He bends down to boop Anna’s nose. “Your sister is somethin’ else, kid. I’m gonna check on your mo–I mean my–our–”

He growls as Ellie looks up at him expectantly, a wry little smirk on her face.

“I’m gonna check on Charlie,” he sighs. “Call me if you need me.”

He hears a whisper at his back.

“What’s the sign for ‘They are so fucked’?”

Ellie’s laughter and Anna’s quiet coos follow him upstairs.

They still haven’t talked about them . They share a bed, they care for Anna, and…that’s about it. The midwife mentioned something about “resuming sexual activities” and “birth control” and maybe even a vasectomy at their final appointment, and it had taken all Joel had not to laugh in her face. He hasn’t had so much as a hard-on since the kid was born, and Charlie is permanently attached to her when she’s not sleeping or eating.

It might have bothered him if he weren’t so sleep-deprived.

In the bedroom, Charlie is buried under the blankets. He doesn’t mean to wake her, but she startles when the door creaks open.

“Anna?”

“Ellie’s got her, it’s just me,” Joel whispers. “Sorry.”

Charlie sits up, rubbing at her eyes, holding her breasts as if testing their weight. “S’okay. She needs to eat soon.”

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, smiles at Charlie’s mussed hair. He’s watched her closely over the last few weeks, hyper-alert for signs of depression, for the grief that he knows will never completely subside. A horrible little voice in the back of his mind insists that it’s only a matter of time before she leaves them.

Sarah’s mom made it four months.

But Charlie seems content if exhausted. They’re both exhausted, even with help. With Sarah he’d had the advantage of youth; with Anna, Joel feels every single one of his fifty-eight years…mostly in his back.

“Did you know Ellie’s teachin’ the baby sign language?” he asks.

“Mmm, she mentioned something about that,” Charlie yawns. “She’s smart, your kid. We’re raising geniuses.”

Joel ducks his head to hide a blush of pride. “They’re gonna leave us in their dust someday.”

We. Us.

He reaches out to cup Charlie’s face in one hand, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. He could say it was all lust until now, but watching her with Anna makes him feel like a lovesick teenager. Charlie leans into his touch, meets his eyes, and his stomach clenches with a kind of pleasant ache he hasn’t felt in weeks.

Maybe he’s going to need to look into that vasectomy after all.

The moment is rudely interrupted by a wail, followed by Ellie’s voice drifting up the stairs.

“Hey, lovebirds! Your spawn needs a diaper change.”

~*~

Joel and Ellie are sprawled on the couch, her tucked into one corner and him on the opposite side, slouched down with Anna on his chest, a movie playing in the background. The baby won’t sleep in the beautiful hand-carved cradle for more than fifteen minutes at a time, preferring instead to slumber on a warm body.

There was a time in Joel’s life when he would have said they were spoiling her, but now, acutely aware of his limited years in a way he’s never been before, he’s decided Anna can fall asleep in his arms until she’s thirty if she wants. There is no such thing as spoiling her as far as he’s concerned.

He’s half asleep, trying to wait out the next hour and a half to let Charlie get some rest, when Ellie’s voice drifts into his consciousness.

“I think I get it now.”

“Get what?” he murmurs, barely able to open his eyes.

“Why you lied to me.”

He’s awake now. His head snaps up to face her. Ellie is curled in a ball with her arms around her knees, watching the baby rise and fall with the rhythm of his breath.

“If it were her…I’d do anything to keep her safe,” she says softly.

Oh.

His first instinct is to lie again, but something about Ellie’s expression and the way she’s watching Anna gives him pause. Between the two of them, they’ve cracked him open. He’s too tired and old to hold secrets.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he rasps. “I shouldn’t’ve done that. It was wrong.”

He meets her eyes, waits until he’s sure that she sees him, because she can’t just hear it–she needs to know it with her whole being, to believe it as deeply as he does.

“But I’m not sorry–I’ll never be sorry–for what I did. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat for you…or her.”

Ellie nods, but she frowns, her voice going small and tight.

“What if she was bit?”

The question drops from her lips like a bomb and Joel instinctively tightens his grip around Anna at the thought.

“Wouldn’t you hate me?” she whispers. “For not…for not being able to save her?”

“Never,” he says roughly. “I could never hate you, Ellie.”

“But…what if she could grow up in a better world? A world where you never had to worry about her…or Charlie…or anyone…getting infected,” Ellie asks softly.

He wants to tell her that none of this would have been possible if she weren’t here–their life in Jackson, Charlie, or Anna. He wants to tell her that she is the catalyst for everything he’s done right in his sorry life.

His girl, who wanted to save the world, had saved him instead.

But words are failing so he swallows his tears and puts an arm out. Ellie slides over, curling into his side, and he’s momentarily stunned by her solidity against him. She’s grown in the months since they returned from Salt Lake City. She’s taller, her face thinning out, more like a young woman than a child.

It happens too damn fast, he thinks, looking down at the sleeping infant on his chest.

He whispers the words into Ellie’s hair when his throat finally unlocks, watery and thick.

“She’s growin' up in a better world because you’re in it.”

~*~

“She’s finally out,” Charlie whispers, backing away from the cradle and collapsing onto the bed on her stomach with a groan. “I don’t know how one tiny human can eat so much.”

“I’ll take her tonight,” he says. “She can have a bottle.”

“You have patrol in the morning.”

“Can’t sleep for shit anyway,” he shrugs. “Did you eat? Caf’s still open, I can grab you something.”

“Mmm. Maybe later. I need about ten hours of sleep and a big glass of wine,” she mutters into the pillow.

“I can offer you six hours of sleep and a beer.”

“I’ll take it,” she yawns, then brightens. “Oh! I found something at the post today.”

She rolls over, digs in the nightstand drawer, then unearths a small black box and tosses it into his lap.

He blinks down at it, unsure if it’s the suggestion or the fatigue that slows his tongue. His heart quickens.

“Are these…?”

“Condoms,” she grins. Then she’s crawling toward him and straddling his lap, much the way she did the first time, and she glances over at the silent cradle. “We have a couple hours…should we see if they’re any good?”

“God yes please,” he breathes, all tiredness suddenly forgotten as her mouth finds his, open and wanting.

There’s laundry scattered around the floor, empty bottles and water glasses on the nightstand, used burp cloths draped over the furniture, and the faint smell of sour milk lingers in the air.

And all of it ceases to matter because she’s holding his face in her hands and kissing him, really kissing him for the first time in weeks. Not a peck on the cheek or a nuzzled brush of her lips to his forehead when she thinks he’s still sleeping, but an honest-to-god kiss with tongue and teeth and bite.

Soon she’s rolled underneath him and he’s supping long, languid kisses from her lips, eliciting sweet little moans and breathy gasps that have him thrusting his aching cock into her bare stomach, seeking relief in friction. Even with the condom to dull the sensations, this will be over before it’s begun if he doesn’t get a fucking grip, so he pulls reluctantly away to explore the rest of her body.

Breastmilk gathers in little pearls on the peaks of her nipples, sweet and thick on his tongue as he teases and sucks his way down her chest. He traces the silvery lines on her lower stomach with his nose, the places where she’s been permanently marked because of their daughter, because of him . The sight of her gently swollen belly and the velvety softness of the stretched skin only makes him want her more.

She whimpers when he tastes her, moans when he sucks at her swollen clit and laps at her folds until she’s writhing and coming. Then she’s pulling on his hair with an urgency he understands and he’s rolling one of the condoms on and sinking into her delicious heat. She’s so close like this, pinned by his hips and chest, pressed underneath him like a flower.

He can’t pull himself away from her mouth, can’t stop kissing her and tasting her and swallowing her cries. Her arms enfold him, rubbing languid strokes up and down the slope of his back, pressing into his ass, urging him deeper. He reaches for her hand and rests their entwined fingers above her head.

Mine , he thinks with every thrust, heat coiling in his gut, crawling up his spine. Mine, mine, mine.

“Yours,” she sighs, arching into him, answering the words he didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud. He presses his forehead against hers and stills, breathing hard.

“Yeah?”

His voice is ragged with emotion. Her palms come up to cup his face.

“All yours,” she whispers, then she kisses him and kisses him and he prays the condom does its damn job because he’s falling over the edge.

~*~

He’s still softening inside her, luxuriating in the feel of her mouth against his, when the baby wails from her cradle.

Charlie groans underneath him. “Already?”

“Well…we got fifteen minutes,” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“Give yourself credit, it was at least twenty.”

“It’s like a sixth sense,” he mutters, pulling out with a groan. “Surprised Ellie’s not at the damn door, too.”

Charlie snorts a laugh, sitting up and pulling the sheet to her chest.

“I’m comin’, baby girl,” he says. “Hold on, I know…m’right here.”

But Anna can’t hear him, of course. He pokes his head over the cradle and she quiets. “I’ll be right back.”

She protests loudly when he leaves her line of sight again, totally abandoned. He disposes of the condom and washes his hands…now where the hell are his boxers? The din of Anna’s crying in the background has him stumbling over his feet.

Finally, he plucks her up out of the cradle and puts her against his chest.

“Hey, kid, you’re fine,” he rumbles against her.

She growls in response, all attitude, one tiny fist stuffed into her mouth.

“Think she’s hungry,” he murmurs, nuzzling the top of her head. “Want me to get her a bottle so you can sleep?”

“No,” Charlie says, two wet spots blooming on the bedsheet. “You primed the pump. I’m leaking all over myself.”

“Lucky kid,” he grins. “You get the real deal.”

“You just ate, sweet girl,” Charlie sighs as the baby latches. “Where does it all go?”

“Based on the laundry I folded today, I have an idea,” Joel mutters, crawling back into bed. He sits up against the headboard and pulls Charlie into his arms so she’s propped against him. She burrows into his shoulder and closes her eyes as the baby makes greedy little suckling noises. His free arm wraps around them, cupping Anna’s head, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat in his palm.

Maybe it’s the sex that loosens his tongue, or maybe he’s just too tired to worry over the fallout. He takes a deep breath.

“So I know we said…you’d stay until the kid is born…and that was, uh, ten weeks ago.”

“You kicking me out?” Charlie murmurs, playing with the baby’s tiny fingers as she nurses.

“No,” he says quickly. “You can stay as long as you want. I just…don’t want you to feel like you have to…or like we’re expected to be, uh…something we’re–”

“Joel,” she says, soft but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Heat blooms in his chest.

“Yeah?”

She tilts her head up to look at him, silver eyes shining, and answers him with a long, sweet, lingering kiss that reignites the fire in his lower belly.

He’s definitely gonna need that vasectomy.

#fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #pregnancy #babyfic

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yandere-kittee · 11 months

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Yandere! Father x Gn! Reader.

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Note:Is this fic a bit self indulgent? Yes. ANYWAYS, THANKS Y'ALL FOR THE 260 FOLLOWERS ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* I honestly am so happy by how far this blog has come!

❦Contains: Yandere behavior, Platonic Yandere, terrible family relationship, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

You didn't know how you got here, but you surely want to go back.

But it seemed to start when your parents started fighting at home, they've never done that before.

You we're obviously upset, but after their argument, your mother had come into your room and gently told you that they both had a small disagreement with each other and that everything would go back to normal.

It only got worse from there.

It was subtle at first, not spending time with each other not talking to each other at home and your Dad slept on the couch while your Mom slept in their room.

They didn't want to fight in front of you, but you we're old enough to understand what was going on, you weren't naive.

Because of this, you wanted to avoid being at home with them as much as possible, you didn't like seeing them fight so much, listening to loud music wasn't enough to drown them out.

You found solace in sitting in the park, on the bench or on one of the swings, feeling the cold breeze on your skin while you look up at the sky, it was so peaceful compared to when you're at home.

Though, from time to time, you'll see kids playing with their parents in the park and just being happy with them, you envied their ignorant bliss.

You wondered what went wrong with your family, but no matter how much thought you put into it, it might not help with fixing the situation, so you needed to do it yourself.

Though, you didn't know how.

When you began to stay in the park more and more than in your own home, you start to take notice on people who often the park as well, especially this one guy who likes to wear sweaters and draw.

You copied him at some point, pulling out a notebook and began to draw as well. It was fun, you weren't an expert, but it took your mind off of everything.

Though, nothing good ever lasts because your parents took notice of your absence in your own home, so after a day in the park, your parents were both waiting for you at home, the first time you saw them together when they weren't screaming at each other.

"Where have you been!" "Do you know how worried we were? Why did you come home just now? "

You've both only noticed now? I've been doing this for almost 2 months now.

"I was just at the park.." "At this time!?"

"Well, I just didn't want to be home while you two are fighting. "

....

You we're just telling the truth, they didn't need to ground you for it. Though, even after being ungrounded you didn't stop going to the park, you just went home early as to avoid suspicion from your parents.

And by this time, you had gathered courage to talk to the man who liked to draw in the park. Asking what he's always drawing while he's in the park.

His name was Richard, he liked to practice drawing buildings and people in the park, he even admitted into drawing you for a bit, telling you that you always looked lonely when you're in the park.

You awkwardly laughed off what he said, it was true, but you didn't know that you looked so sad when you we're in the park, you always felt like a huge burden was lifted off your shoulders when you enter.

Richard's a nice guy, you found comfort in his pressence and grew to trust him more, he was older than you, sure, he was a stranger, sure, but he always seemed to care for you like you were his own child.

Maybe he's got like a younger sibling or something because it just seemed so natural for him to take care of you, so you asked him one day, "Do you have any younger siblings? ".

He chuckled, "Used to, a little sister. If she was still alive, she'd be the same age as you. "

You felt bad for him, buy grew curious to what his sibling was like.

But maybe that's why he decided it had to be you, because the two of you we're so similar from each other, you and his sister I mean, the only reason she was dead was because he couldn't protect her from their parents influence, so maybe that's why he vowed that he'd take you away from them.

Though he didn't understand why you we're sad and defiant when he actually took you away, somewhere where your parents can never find you, not like they ever cared anyways, is what he told you.

But your safe now, with your true family.

On days when he's not at work, he always spends time with you, despite your cold attitude towards him, it's fine, you'll warm up to him eventually, situations with teenager and their step parents are similar, it takes time to build relationships.

He would cook meals and have you sit down with him to eat dinner, after you took a bath he'd be outside the door to help dry and brush your hair, because you no longer can't go to school, he opted to teach you things instead.

He always treated you nicely and never raised his voice at you, he was there when you needed him and soon became the father figure that you missed having, so maybe that's was why you grew to cling to him, like a child being dropped of for their first day of school.

"Dont worry dear, your Father's here.. " he says while stroking your hair softly, pulling you to sleep.

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

I honestly don't know if this fic makes sense, I literally lost like, a brain cell making this. Well, no more writers block! Though, don't expect regular posts though..i still got no idea what I should do(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

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#yandere #yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #original character #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #platonic relationships #Platonic yandere

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greta-van-rose · 11 months

Text

Middle of the Night🌙(Part 1)// J.T.K

Pairing ; Jake Kiszka x reader

series

Trope - Friends to Lovers (slow burn with angst)

A/N; I had the idea so i'm doing it... also I'm a college student and will try and update as much as I can !!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (that's all I can think of)

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You've been best friends with the twins since second grade. Josh had sat with you inside during recess because you had forgotten your homework at home; he had actually gotten himself in trouble by talking back to the teacher and swears that he did it on purpose. "No one should be punished for an honest mistake, she was being ridiculous!" and a beautiful friendship had bloomed.

It feels like that was just yesterday, and all of a sudden you were getting ready to graduate. Twins still by your side along with their siblings and his youngest brothers best friend Daniel.

Currently sitting in the Kiszka's backyard beside the fire. As a "Last Hoorah" Josh said when he presented the idea.

"How does it feel knowing Monday you will officially be done with the grand 'Frankenmuth High'" Sam questioned with a huff taking the seat next to you. Arm slung around your shoulders drink in the other hand alcohol very apparent on his breath. "All I have to say is good riddance" you reply slight giggle while you slightly lean into him to keep him steady.

"Awh come on sunshine, it wasn't all that bad" Josh jokes standing in front of you two. "yeah yeah Joshua, now if I can be excused I want another drink" You say holding up an empty cup "Come on love, you can't leave me" Sam groans reaching out to you as you got up, you had a hunch he has a crush on you, it's very sweet but Sam is a heavy flirt, all the Kiszka boy's are. "Let the poor girl be Sam" Josh steps in sitting next to Sam. "I'll wait for you my love!" Sam dramatically shouts for everyone in a 5 mile radius to hear. You giggle walking past a group of people sitting around Jake, sharing stories of the year.

The relationship you had with Jake was different from Josh and Sam. Recently it's taken a turn for the worse. There's been some weird tension that came out of nowhere. He doesn't call you by any of the sweet nicknames him and his twin had given you growing up, any sort of physical touch gone, even glances your way during class that turned into making stupid faces from across the room trying to make the other person laugh had disappeared. You had decided to distance yourself from him, assuming he had a girlfriend and didn't want to cross an boundaries, which you respected but also thought he cared enough to acknowledge your existence or give an explanation.

Making your way into the kitchen to make another drink and grab Sam a bottle of water, you hear the back door open and close, choosing to ignore whoever just came in a continue with your drink.

"Sammy boy is really putting the moves there on ya" you hear from behind you, recognizing the voice as Jake's you tense up a bit. "He sure is, everyone in a 5 mile radius can hear him" he chuckles and comes to stand by you. "Can't blame the kid" is all he says grabbing the drink you had just made and turning around, you lightly grab his arm-feeling him tense "that's mine Kiszka, make your own. And what do you mean by that?" You say facing his back.

He finally faces you, eyes scanning your face. Having a war within himself, he has something he wants to say but he just won't.

After what feels like a lifetime of silence, he shakes his head muttering "nothing" and walking outside. Being left there dumbfounded, you have no idea what to do. You finally choose to follow him back outside and getting some kind of explanation. You must have sat there for longer than you thought because by the time you got to the fire Jake had his arm around another girl and didn't even look your way.

Deciding to let it go no matter the heaviness you felt in your chest, you walk back over to Sam Josh and Danny who were trying to "go find bigfoot". "My love has returned!" Sam cheers running to you "Glad you missed me Sammy" chuckling as you return the hug. "You seem sad what's wrong" he rushes out looking at your face. Josh shot a look in your direction with a raised eyebrow, sending him a look of 'i'll tell you later' while returning back to Sammy "I just missed you and couldn't stand to be away from you any longer" squishing his face and releasing the hug. " "Alright lover boy let's go to bed" Josh tries to drag him in the house. "No I can not deny my girl of my presence" he fights coming back to you,"I'll be here when you get up you need to lay down" He reluctantly gives in after I pinky promised to be here until he gets up in the morning.

Danny went inside with Sam, during this fiasco all the other people were gone from the fire and you assume they had all left, but no sign of Jake. Josh waves you over to the fire "come on talk to me" he pats your back as you take a seat next to him.

Josh was your person. He could read you like a book and knew exactly how to be there for you. He is your number one, but you hadn't talked to him about the Jake situation. You didn't want to put him in an awkward position.

So you sat there in silence for a minute debating if you wanted to let it all out. "You know you can talk to me right, about anything or anyone. I'm always here for you." He reassures sensing the state you're in. "Even if it's someone you share DNA with." you mutter. "Even if it's someone I share DNA with."

Letting out a sigh you begin, as you talk the angrier and more hurt you get. Alcohol amplifying said emotions, you feel a tear run down your face. "Hold on sunshine" Josh interrupts looking at your face wiping the tears, "not to make you feel bad, but why didn't you tell me any of this. I could have helped or talked to him." he seems hurt. "I didn't want to put you in a bad spot, things were fine just different between us but after tonight I don't know what that means or if I pushed a boundary. I don't want to upset him but I feel like that's all I've been doing and I don't know how." As you wiped your face from the excess tears, Jake was walking towards the fire from the front of the house.

Laying Directly next to you, was his acoustic guitar. Dammit. You quickly wiped your face to make sure it was dry. Just then making eye contact with him, his face flashed with concern and looked like he wanted to comfort. Yet, he grabbed his guitar and said goodnight.

As he walked in the house you turned to Josh "I know exactly what it is" Josh then looked at you with a smile. "How can you be smiling, and how do you know any of that, has he talked to you about this?" your mind is now racing, "I will not be the one to tell you but, I will go confirm it with dear Jacob, but listen to me when I tell you this. You have nothing to worry about because I know how you feel as well" He squeezes your shoulder as he stands up reaching out his hand for you to grab.

"You Kiszka's just hate giving explanations apparently. You stand your ground and don't grab his hand. “Please just trust me on this."He grabs your hand from your lap and pulls you up "On the other hand, you're going to lay down and go to sleep."

You both walk to the house, parting ways as he goes upstairs and you go to sleep in the living room. After grabbing the blankets and pillows you look at the clock and see it's only 1:00 a.m. As you go to lay down, you're still in jeans and didn't plan on staying the night so you didn't grab any clothes. You could go in Ronnie's room and use her's, but felt bad invading her space, so you opted for Josh.

As you're about to knock on the door it swings open, revealing Jake, not wanting to give him a chance to say anything "I didn't plan on staying the night so I was just coming up to ask Josh for some clothes to sleep in." You say slightly avoiding eye contact. "Oh, he's cleaning up outside. I'll grab you some" he motions for you to come in and sit on the bed.

You take a seat on Josh's bed as Jake grabs you clothes from his drawers. He hands you a pair of sweatpants, a faded 'Terry Reid' shirt that looked older than he was, and a 'Frankenmuth High Soccer' hoodie with Kiszka #8 on the back. You mutter a thank you and get up to walk out of the room. Suddenly Jake's gentle grip is felt on your wrist; stopping you in your tracks.

"Goodnight" He finally said and let your wrist go.

You go to the bathroom across the hall to change into the clothes and process whatever it was that just happened. After changing and brushing your teeth you head downstairs to sleep on the couch.

"You know Ronnie's at her friend's house for the night, you don't have to sleep on the couch" Jake says coming around the corner with two glasses of water in his hands.

“I'm okay with the couch, I don’t want to invade her space” you reply, adjusting the blankets and pillows on the couch before laying down, trying to avoid looking at him. “Suit yourself then. Here's water” he said, shrugging and setting the glass on the coffee table. Muttering a quiet “thank you” as you hear him go up the stairs. Sighing trying not to think about the situation with you and Jacob, you can't help but hear Josh’s words echoing in your head as you drift off to sleep.

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#greta van fleet imagine #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka #jake gvf #greta van fleet #peaceful army #gvf fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #danny wagner #sam kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #gvf fanfiction

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romeulusroy · 1 year

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Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 2

A/N: This I'd solely based on this fic, which I am in love with :) I ran out of room on the first part and had much more to say lol

Warning: addiction/addiction mention, abuse/neglect

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 1

Waking up at random underground bars, clubs, random streets in the city not knowing where you were or how you got there. It was definitely scary at times, but you were too numb to care

No one carded you, fearing your name more than your safety

Whenever you were hungover, you could hide away in your own bathroom on your own floor of the house, not that your father went looking for you or would seek you out very often, if at all

Everyone in that house knew. Everyone knew and they said nothing. When you got sick all over your clothes, reeking of a seedy bar or covered in glitter from clubbing, a fresh pair would magically show up folded on your bed. When your nose bled from the drugs and you used a white towel, a fresh one would be replaced in no time

You always believed you were being careful, that nothing bad would happen. You thought you were holding up the charade, and in some cases you were. Logan never said anything to you, about anything. As long you showed up and did as you were told, he didn't really care what you did outside of that

A few times you'd overdosed. Purely on accident, in your room, at the bars, at a party. A few times you woke up in the hospital, the closest one, but no one ever showed up. Even when you collapsed in your own home, your father was too busy in his meeting to pick up. Your mother was your emergency contact and she rarely picked up, too. Doctors knew who you were and that was enough to silence them, for better or for worse

It was easier to pretend this problem didn't exist. Like everything, your father ignored it, swept it under the rug

It wasn't until you called your father for help, drunk, high, crying and scared, unsure of where you were in the middle of the night did he reach out to someone, angry you woke him up, getting your brother to come find you. Your last attempt at seeking his love, his care, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to think he'd care in the first place

Connor dropped everything and got to you, seeing just how fragile and lost you really were for the first time. You could barely keep your eyes open. That scared him to death

It took a lot longer than they'd like to admit to realize you had a problem, that this wasn't just the occasional drink

Connor was the first to suggest an intervention. The rest followed, unsure of what to do, ashamed they hadn't seen any of this sooner

Coming off a high left you feeling low, helpless, and now embarrassed your big brother had seen you in that state. It wouldn't be the last time you'd go to rehab, but it would be the first

The anger came back though, it always did, and with nothing to soften the blow you took it out on yourself, on others. Your siblings were the first targets and no matter how many times you apologize, the guilt eats you up alive. Accusing them of not caring about you, of not noticing. In one particular dark moment you even accuse Roman and Kendall in aiding you in your addictions in the beginning, neither of them knowing. Kendall tries to tell Rome it's not his fault, coming to his baby brothers aid. If you could take one thing back, it would have been that. The look on their faces still haunts you

"Rome, I'm so sorry. I should never have-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I know, okay? I know."

You try getting clean on your own, something your sister makes it known she's against, but there's nothing she can do. When you can't get into places, when they refuse to have you again, you do it by yourself, mostly at Connors ranch. It's secluded, far away from your father. Once you stayed at Kens, a few times with Shiv, but you liked being at Con's the most. It's a mess and really you should be somewhere with professionals, but it's only for when you slip up, for when things are mostly stable, if that can even be measured

In the end, rehab is where you end up. More than a few times. When you get your phone back, one of them always makes sure to pick up your weekly call, even when you talk about nothing, like with Roman

You still thank Connor for picking you up that night

"Don't worry about it, I was happy to."

Being in your fathers presence is a major trigger. You try to stay with your mother for a few weeks, but she always grows uneasy with you around. She doesn't believe in your addictions, in any of your problems. She sends you back to Logan without a second thought, thinking you and your siblings are blowing things out of proportion

You got your own place, somewhere free of association from all those terrible years, all that sickness. You invite your brothers and sister often, trying to make it up to them every single day

You've been clean from everything for a year. Connor couldn't be more proud. Everyday you fear you'll go back to the old you and every day you find a reason, no matter how small, not to. Most of the time it's for your brothers and sister. All the shit you put them through, everything they've done for you, all the times they picked you up from rock bottom, it's the least you could do for them

Kendall still sneaks you candy, one of the last vices you can truly indulge in. Your favorite from when you were a kid. He doesn't hold anything you say against you, knowing what that mindset is like. When you feel yourself slipping, you turn to him. You don't always have to say it, sometimes he just knows, he understands

Shiv still helps you out. Straightens your hair, fixes your collar, doing some damage control with the public when they've turned the story on you, looking after you in those small, significant ways like when you were little. She and Con are the ones to ask if you're okay, if you need a place to stay for a few days, anything at all. Sometimes you even take them up on their offers

You and Roman are closer now, too. He seeks you out at events, hugging you harder than anyone else. He's always kissing your head, holding you close. His comments remain snarky, but for you, self-aware. Nothing that goes too far. He'd always got a glass of sparkling water ready for you so you don't have to go near the bar. What you said hurt him beyond words, but he also knows that was the detoxing you speaking, not the real you. Still, he checks how much is in his glass now, trying to make up for the past

Connor is still the only good father figure in the world. Every year you send him a card for fathers day, writing the same long winded note as a thank you to him. He pretends they don't mean the world to him, but he's got each one in a box under his bed. They make him feel so, so loved

It's not easy. It never will be. You still have to see Logan, talk to him, pretend there's anything left of your relationship. God only knows what story he's spun for Marcia. But it gets more bearable knowing you have people on your side now, that Connor, Kendall, Shiv, and Roman all have your back no matter what. You're their baby sibling after all

#headcanon #connor roy #connor roy headcanon #connor roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy headcanon #kendall roy x reader #shiv roy #shiv roy headcanon #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy headcanon #roman roy x reader #logan roy #logan roy headcanon #logan roy x reader

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v1olentdelights · 6 months

Text

Dandelion Wishes

Conrad Fisher x sister!reader Trigger warning: the reader is referred to as bug in a sibling affectionate way? also food is mentioned a few times, and the reader is sick, but nothing descriptive. Summary: On a particular fall Monday, you are reminded that all your dandelion wishes were well spent. a/n: idk if this is good or not. I have it as a college student because I am a college student... there will probably be more pieces within a college setting. Also, I gave my sister the nickname of bug so I put it in here lol.

When choosing what college to attend you tried not to think about your brothers, both of which were in college now. Not only your mother and brothers, but also your Laurel, Belly, and Steven encouraged you to apply anywhere and everywhere. So that is what you did, you applied to as many colleges as you could. But when you got the results, you were hesitant about your first choice, Stanford. You didn’t want to seemingly follow in your eldest brother’s footsteps, but that was the college that seemed to suit you best. After careful consideration, you were officially accepted to Stanford.

When fall came you packed up half your life in boxes, it was a weird sight to see. Your brother Jeremiah had demanded you let him go through your clothes with you and then later go shopping with you. He was sure you would end up wearing pajamas all year long and he refused to accept that. Though it turned into him making fun of your clothing and putting on some definitely too small shirts. It was moments like these that made you regret all those dandelion wishes to grow up quicker.

You quickly realized how serious this was, hearing that your freshman year at college would be difficult is something completely different than actually living it. Jeremiah and Conrad constantly fussed over you and how you were doing. For Jere, that meant constant texts and calls throughout the week, he also sent you care packages that either contained snacks, sweatshirts, socks, and other little bits and bobs. For Conrad, that meant checking in with you via text after every day and getting dinner every Monday evening.

This beautiful fall Monday you found yourself struggling to stay awake in your 9am class. As the day progressed it only got worse, your body was aching more than you thought possible and you were sure there was a marching band smashing around in your head. If your luck wasn’t already bad enough, in your final class of the day (ending at 4:30) you had a pop quiz on the chapter reading that was due yesterday evening. As you were walking back to your dorm it started to drizzle, though you thought nothing of it as it was a usual occurrence. What you weren’t expecting was for it to pour, the rain helped mask your tears.

Drenched by the time you reached your dorm, you found yourself taking as much pain reliever as you could and slipping into pajamas before settling down at your desk to complete the overflow of assignments.

A while later a knock broke you out of your trance, pulling open the door you were rather surprised to see Conrad with a small smile on his face. You had forgotten about the weekly Monday dinner. But it was wiped from his face as he took in your disheveled appearance, he slipped into your room as you began protesting. After surveying the room he turned to you with a facial expression that was walking the fine line of understanding and pity. “I am going to go make you some soup.” Finding his way to your cupboard he pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup and a bowl and found his way out of your room with ease. You just sat back at your desk and began typing away before the thought of sleep could even cross your mind.

“Here, I brought you some gatorade too. I don’t know how much water you have been drinking.” Turning to him you saw your mother for a second, sometimes when he was concerned he had the same face your mom makes.

“Connie, I can't. I have midterms coming up and I have already missed homework from yesterday. You understand.” And you were right, he did understand, but he also knew what it could do to you if you didn’t take a break.

“30 minutes, bug, just to eat and take a quick power nap.” You huffed but knew that retaliating would only result in him physically forcing you into bed, so you started to shuffle some papers to the side. Conrad took over as he set down your soup. The second you put the spoon in your mouth you knew you were done for. You were too consumed by the newfound warmth that your food provided you to notice Conrad putting your stuff in your backpack and stuffing it in your closet behind your things, so you couldn’t find it.

He pulled up your roommates desk chair to sit next to you and talk about his day. He told you all about his advanced statistics class and how he thankfully made it to the bus before it began downpouring. At that you made a mention that you had got caught in the rain and that it probably added to your foul mood. He just rubbed your arm for a moment with a sad smile on his face.

It was no secret that you were struggling. He had heard from some of his friends that they had seen you in some of the libraries at odd hours of the night. When you finished your soup he took the bowl and set it in your sink while you managed to pull yourself in bed.

“Can you read to me Connie?” He thought you sounded like a little kid again. It was moments like these that made him regret all those dandelion wishes to have you grow up quicker.

“Of course, bug.” He pulled up your desk chair towards your bed and pulled the book off your bedside. It was a book that your mom used to read to you. You had your comforter pulled up to your chin, holding a brown bear stuffed animal with bright blue eyes that Jeremiah had surely gotten you.

He had read for about 5 minutes before you were fully knocked out. After quietly moving away, Conrad pulled out your school bag and began sorting out your homework into classes and what was due when. He made some flash cards for your science class in hopes that it would help you with memorization. On top of all that he tried to work on some things that weren’t big assignments, of course on another piece of paper so you could look at it and attempt it yourself.

—

You had surely slept more than 20 minutes, it was now dark outside and your heater had turned on. Looking around the room in your state must have been a sight to see, the comforter was still pulled up to your chin, your cheeks were reddened and had marks on them and you could barely see your because your eyes felt glued shut. But you could spot the very familiar figure sitting at your desk.

“Connie?” Your voice broke as you called out to him quietly. You were instantly glad that your roommate decided to stay out for the night. On your bedside there was a glass of water and some motrin for you to take, you sat up as you did so.

“Bug?” He sounded just as tired when he lifted his head from the desk. Looking back at you with bleary eyes, standing up from his spot he came over to you and put the back of his hand to your forehead, just like your mom.

“You still feel warm. Did you take the motrin?” You simply nodded your head. Quickly you wrapped your arms around his stomach and pulled him in close for a hug. It took him by surprise, but after a moment he reciprocated while softly running a hand through your hair.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” it came out as barely a whisper.

It was times like these you were reminded that your dandelion wishes were spent well. Having wished that your brothers would always be there for you was the best wish of all, one you still made to this day.

—

By the end of the week you were feeling better physically and mentally when you saw that you had passed the midterm you had been worried about all week. By Friday you felt like you could finally breathe, so when your mother asked that you and your brother come home for the weekend, you could easily say yes.

Almost as soon as you stepped out of the car you were being picked up, eliciting a squeal. Jeremiah had wrapped you up tight before spinning you in a death grip of a hug.

“I’ve missed you kid! I think you've even grown a bit” As he set you down he pressed a kiss to your head. You swat him away as he comes in to pinch your cheeks. Though you were still a bit dizzy, you spotted your mom sitting next to Laurel on the porch, you hadn’t expected the Conklin's to be here. But you were swept up into another hug by Steven who ruffled your hair and said something about being proud of you. Belly was right beside her mom with a big smile and a big bouquet of flowers.

“Welcome back!”

Stepping up onto the porch both Laurel and your mom stood up with bright smiles, as soon as you were close enough, both of them pulled you into a hug.

“We are so proud of you, sweetheart.” Laurel said as she rubbed her hand up and down your back. You mom kept pressing kisses to your hairline, you could feel the tears slipping that she tried to hold back.

“My beautiful beautiful girl, you look so much older now!” her smile was as bright as the sun. Laurel patted your back lightly.

“Let’s get you inside and fill you up, I made your favorite.” Everyone piled into the house and as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, you caught a whiff of what you assumed to be your favorite dessert as well.

It was times like these that you are reminded that all your dandelion wishes were well spent.

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

Text

Summer Heat - Chapter One

Summary: Rafe had met his match when he met you. Both completely opposite and all too similar - the Kook and the Pogue who worked for his father; the hot headed boy and the girl who never backed down. And as summer rolls around on the island, tensions run high amongst the hottest enemies that OBX has ever seen.

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Cursing, some (ish) sexual references, mentions of losing a parent

Author's Note: Omgggg I’m so excited to start this series !! I already have sooo many ideas for it. Please let me know what you think of the first chapter I want to hear alll of your opinions !! Much much much love to all of you, angels x

Rafe had grown up getting everything he wanted. As much as he was reluctant to admit it at times, he knew he had always been fed from the silver spoon. He could have half of the island wrapped around his little finger if he really wanted to. Everybody knew it. From his friends that were more like followers, to his girls that were more like groupies, to his family that were more like business partners. All of it was more and more a part of the personality that made the infamous Rafe Cameron.

You, having grown up in The Cut, were one of the many people that worked for him and his family. You'd taken the job working on the boat, you and John B both working together. It was mundane but it covered your share of the bills and kept your older sister off of your back. Since your father had passed away a few years ago, it was really just you and her left. That's how you'd become such good friends with John B - you'd been through the same shitty few years on the shitty side of the island you called home. And there was something comforting about going through it with someone that knew how it all felt. Working together was just another part of that - a way to make a crap life a little less bad.

Though, it was safe to say dealing with Rafe's input was one of the worst parts of your job - he was always on your case about every part of the work. He would pick you up on the slightest things, tell his father if you were even a few minutes late, made sure to give you enough jobs to last the day. It hadn't taken you long to start arguing back with him, defending yourself when he expected you to stay silent. And, though people might think he was the most hot headed a person could get, it seemed he had met his match in you.

"Oi!" John B shouts from the other side of the deck, "Are you going to help or what?"

You roll your eyes at him and stand up from where you'd been enjoying the sun from the deck. It was a scorching day on the island, the sun beating down relentlessly - even worse on the dock of the yacht that seemed to be allergic to any type of shade;

"Ward's not meant to be home for another hour, which means we have at least half an hour before we even need to start."

"Right, but if you grow up and do it now, we can slack off later," He points out, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The two of you were like siblings to each other - him the mature and logical one that liked to keep the peace, and you the unhinged argumentative one that seemed set on disturbing the peace.

"Touché," You walk over to where he's stood over the pile of used scuba gear, a hose in one hand to start cleaning it all with freshwater.

You pick up the other hose and spray it a couple of times to test it out. Watching it splash down the deck and trail towards the drainage, not paying attention to it bounce off in the other direction to spray over John B.

"Do you mind?" He raises his eyebrows at you, shaking off the water from his arm.

"I'm sorry I almost drowned you," You roll your eyes at him, spraying the hose another time in his direction.

"Really? You want to start that?" John B laughs, dropping the buoyancy jacket from his hands to turn his attention to you.

He sprays in your direction and it splashes down the front of your crop top, forcing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh you are dead!" You return, splashing him back so that it soaks his hair down to his head.

He goes at you again and soaks your outfit completely, water dripping down your shoulders and down your arms.

John B laughs and shakes his hair out, raising his hands in defeat, "Okay okay stop, I'm done."

He pulls a hand over his face and your hands down either side of your hair to slick it away from your face, welcoming the cool it brings you against the blazing heat.

"Good to see we pay you for some quality work here!" An all too infamous voice calls out from the other end of the boat.

You look up to see Rafe coming towards you, his skin sun-kissed in the heat. He crosses over the ramp from the wooden dock and onto the deck, long strides drawing him closer to you. There's a white linen shirt hanging on either side of his torso, exposing the dips of his abs and the way they seem more prominent with his tan. No. Ignore it. This is Rafe, it didn't matter what body came with that.

"We?" You scoff, "I'm not so sure you're responsible in the slightest for paying us. But go ahead, run along and tell Daddy if you need to."

He clenches his jaw but doesn't say anything for just a second, "I could get you fired with a click of my fingers, so watch your tone."

John B looks at you with warning in his eyes when he can tell you're on the verge of snapping back at Rafe. You struggled to hide your feelings at the best of times, but it seemed all the more impossible when it came to this boy.

You'd known of him when you were little, the two of you meeting when your father used to work the restaurant at the club. As a little boy, Rafe was a lot more tolerable than he was now - though you were sure that he didn't remember you. Your first memory of him was when you were sat waiting for your Dad's shift to end, you no older than six. You'd fallen and cut your knee and Rafe had found you, much taller than you even when he was a kid, and he'd stolen an ice cream from the buffet bar to give to you. He'd told you to stop crying because his Dad had told him that big kids didn't cry, but he knew from his sister Sarah that ice cream could cure a lot of things. He looked at your knee, the blood spilling down your leg, and he held a napkin over it whilst you ate the ice-cream he'd given you. When your Dad came to find you, he'd pulled you away and told you to not hang around with those 'Kook Kids' again. You'd looked over your shoulder as you left and watched as Rafe was getting told off by his own father, likely for disappearing, or perhaps for thieving from the buffet. He'd looked at you with a sadness in his eyes that didn't seem to dispel.

That same sadness, though mixed with a few other things, still seemed to remain all these years later.

"You can both leave, I've got some business to take care of," Rafe states simply, "Finish this up tomorrow."

John B grabs his hat and his bag from the side and nods, "You got it," He disappears around the side of the deck, glancing back at you with that sort of look in his eyes that tells you get the fuck out of there while you've got the chance.

"You know you shouldn't leave this stuff without cleaning it," You point out, "The salt can damage your gear. That's why we have to clean it."

"Then we can buy new stuff," His words are a cold contrast against the blistering summer heat.

You roll your eyes, certain in that moment that you and Rafe could not be any more different if you tried, "Easy life isn't it, Rafe Cameron?"

"Easier if you weren't here."

You're silent, a strange tension between the two of you that never seemed to disperse.

"Your top is dripping over the deck," He comments matter-of-factly.

He seems to look at you with a darkness in his eyes, though different from the way he seemed when he was angry. It wasn't an anger when he was with you - it was more like fury, a burning inside of him that seemed to echo in the tension in his muscles.

You cock a brow at him and lift one of your arms to pull your crop top over your head, quickly and in one motion, exposing the thin cover of the bikini top you wore underneath, "Yeah, you're right, wouldn't want water on the boat would we?"

"Was that necessary?" He cocks a brow at you, his eyes drifting south towards your chest, the way the droplets of water curled around the curves of your breasts.

"Keep your dick in your pants, Cameron."

~~~

"You know your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn't argue with him all the time," John B points out, sat on the dock next to the Chalet, his legs dangling over the edge, a beer can in his hands

"And what's the fun in that?" You tilt your head up from where you lay sprawled out over the wooden surface, one hand coming up to your face to block your eyes from the sun.

"The woman raises a good point," JJ comments, matching your pose as he was sprawled out over the small space of their boat.

"Plus," You lean up onto your elbows, "He thinks he can walk all over us just because his father's got money, I'm sick of it."

"His father having money is the reason that we can get a bit too," John B points out, standing up and going over to the cooler of beers that was already dwindling in supplies, "So please keep your mouth shut so that I can keep my job."

You push yourself up to stand and step through the barrier of the dock to stand on the side of the water, your hands reaching behind your back to hold the fence and steady yourself, "I can't make any promises."

You stretch your arms above your head and dive into the water, kicking below the surface to submerge yourself in the relief of the cold water. When you break the surface, you turn around to see the boys watching you from the deck.

JJ smirks at you, nudging John B knowingly before he says, "Damn, that was hot."

~~~

You're back at the Cameron's house the following day, pulling up in front of the mansion in your beat up car that seemed a stark contrast to the world around you. The car had belonged to your father, and had been passed down to you when your sister refused to drive it. It was littered with scratches and had a dent on one side, and the passenger side window didn't ever close, and it only took cassette tapes despite this being the 21st Century.

As you pull up today, Rafe is parked in front of your spot. The hood of his car is open and he's bent over, studying the inner workings like it were a foreign language. When he hears your door slam, a little too abruptly, he is quick to comment.

"You're late."

"Did you miss me that much?" You cock a brow, walking around the side of his car so you can see under the hood too, "What's wrong with this?"

He looks up at you for a second, his eyes squinting a little against the smoke that was just starting to bellow up from the vehicle, "I don't-" He stops himself, "It's fine, just go to the boat."

You look over, walking around to the front of the car so that you stood next to him, your shoulder bumping his arm as you tap at the source of his problem, "Your fuel cap is busted, radiator cap should solve it."

Rafe pulls away from the car to stand up straight, like a reminder of just how much he towered over you, "Are you kidding?"

"I probably have a spare in my trunk," You comment, standing up too so that you can face him, the tips of your shoes almost brushing with his.

"I don't need your help, (Y/N)."

You smirk and make sure your eyes are in direct contact with his as you state, "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't offering."

With that, you turn on your heel and make your way towards the house, diverting towards the gate that would lead you down towards the dock. You couldn't quite make out the feeling in your chest - a little bit of pride at your tiny victory, and a little bit of the typical quickening of your heart beat that only Rafe seemed to be able to cause.

~~~

Rafe gives up on his car not long after, storming back into the house as if the anger was practically radiating off of him.

“I need Dad’s keys, have you seen them?” He calls over to Sarah, who’s laying across one of the couches with a book in one hand, the other arm tucked under her head.

“Why would I know where they are?” She retorts, setting her book down and stretching her arms back above her head.

“Can you help me look for them?” Rafe snaps, “I’ve got somewhere to be and my car’s busted.”

“Find them yourself,” She scoffs, “Or get John B or (Y/N) to help you with your car.”

Rafe stops his search for the keys and looks at her flatly, “Are you kidding?”

“Why do you hate them so much?” His sister shakes her head, “They’re not that bad and you act like (Y/N) is the worst person on the planet.”

“She’s not-“

As if on cue, you walk through from the garden, sliding open one of the large glass panel doors. There were beads of sweat around your neck from being in the sun, the material of your halter neck top rising a little over your torso. Rafe finds himself trailing his eyes over you before he has a chance to stop himself.

“Perfect!” Sarah smiles at you, “(Y/N), if you’re not too busy can you help my pain-in-the-ass brother to fix his car so he can stop stressing out?”

You look from her and onto her brother, the way his chest is rising and falling like even the sight of you irritated him beyond normal, “I don’t think he wants my help. I’m just here to get the key to the locker, we’ve got stuff to put away.”

Rafe looks at you directly, as if he hopes his gaze will eventually pierce through your confidence and give him the upper hand, “I’ll get you the key, if you get me that cap.”

It’s impossible to hide the smirk over your lips, “Hard bargain, Rafe Cameron.”

“Just do it,” He rolls his eyes, storming out of the room just as quickly as he’s entered.

Sarah glances up at you and shakes her head, “I’m sure you make him worse than normal.”

You laugh and nod your head a little, “Yeah, probably, but someone’s got to do it.”

You leave then and go out to your car, where Rafe is already waiting. He’s leant back against the side of it, his elbows leaning back on either side of the roof and his ankles crossed as if you had kept him waiting for a short version of forever.

”Do you mind? You’ll ruin the paint,” You bat his arm away and it evokes a deep laugh from him, one of mocking more so than amusement.

“On this thing? I think the paint is the least of your concerns,” He comments, glancing down at the scratches that wound around the side of the doors.

“Do you want to fix your car or not?”

He’s quiet then.

“This was my Dad’s car,” You mention, grabbing what you needed from the trunk before closing it, “And until it stops driving, I see no reason to get rid of it.”

“Your Dad,” Rafe studies your face, “Yeah, I remember him, he used to work at the club, right?”

As you walk past him, you find yourself having to swallow the lump in your throat before you can think of responding properly, “Yeah.”

“How did he-“

“Can you stop?” You snap at him, twisting off the old cap and fixing the new one in place over the fuel pump.

“Can I stop what?”

You stand up from the hood of his car and slam it shut, “Pretending like you give a shit. I don’t need your pity.”

It’s like something switches off in Rafe then, a light going out before your eyes had even adjusted to it being there, he straightens up his shoulders, lets out a cold blooded laugh through his lips, “Oh I don’t pity you, you Pogues are all just as bad as each other. Criminals, nothing more.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, this criminal has to get back to working on your boat,” You step forward and swipe the locker key from his hand, “I’ll try my best to not steal anything whilst I’m there.”

He watches you walk away, tastes the sarcastic air left in the wake of your words, breathes in the lingering scent of your unwavering confidence. And he can’t bring himself to look away from you. But, for just a brief moment, Rafe realises that he doesn’t want to.

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matthyeu · 10 months

Text

you love beethoven ― ktr.

pairing ⇢ kim taerae x gn!reader

genre ⇢ slight angst, fluff, reincarnation!au

warnings ⇢ none

word count ⇢ 1.7k

synopsis ⇢ he promised to find you with one simple line, and so he did. (part 1)

how you came to be a pianist, you weren’t sure. your life had pushed every agenda but that of a pianist. while your parents had urged you and your siblings to play musical instruments, they didn’t want you to play the piano.

what they had against the piano, you also weren’t sure. when asked about musicality, you only ever expressed interest in the piano much to their dismay. they refused your ambition without much explanation and forced you to take on the violin instead.

needless to say, your skills in the violin were even worse than that of a two year old playing with two left hands. both your instructor and classmates often advised you to take up a different instrument because of your inability to play.

however, you didn’t have much say in it until your instructor spoke to your parents about your…lack of talent. she mainly blamed it on your hands, the piano hands she called them. your long and slender fingers were more fitted for playing the keys of a piano, not holding the bow of a violin.

it was only then you got your parents' explanation of why they never wanted you to play, the strange stories they had been told about the bad luck of pianists. you had no idea where they got the story from, a young pianist who was exiled after expressing too much musicality to a prince. that seemed like a story only a fairytale could bring, but they insisted on one of your ancestors seeing it while working in the alleged palace.

your parents’ superstitious ways almost cost you your whole career, your whole passion. almost. you managed to convince them eventually with the help of your former violinist classmates, forging stories about the mishaps of violinists to show that every musician had their ups and downs. only then did they hesitantly let you play the piano.

you weren’t sure about a lot of things, but you were sure that it was their hesitant agreement that allowed you to be on stage that night, telling your story and journey after a long night of playing. even if it was their fault you could not play, it was ultimately their blessing that allowed you to start your journey as a pianist.

“it’s a funny story really,” you laughed, “my parents' plans for me as a violinist didn’t work out because you really can’t let anyone else tell you how to live your life.”

and this was the moment where you gave your own advice to the aspiring people in your crowd, advice you accumulated from your own hardships trying to achieve this dream. “

“nothing is impossible. dreams are for you to follow, not for them to stay as dreams. if you love to do something, you should do it, even if there is something holding you back. this is your life, and you get to live it for yourself. this isn’t a life someone else dictates for you. you are your own person. you can make your own decisions. you can follow your dream if you believe you can. i believe you can.”

with a round of applause, it was time for you to get off the stage. your long speech towards the end always seemed to sway the hearts of so many people, inspiring them to follow their own dreams. this time, though, you shook the heart of someone else in that crowd in a way that was not only inspirational.

you wouldn’t say you were famous. you were simply known enough to have some people lining up near the exit, hoping to catch you for a quick picture or autograph. it wasn’t anything like having paparazzi. no, you weren’t that well-known, and you were glad about that fact. having few people who loved you enough to do this meant you could accommodate each of their requests. you had time to spare, so why not give back to the people who made your career possible in the first place.

you signed things without hesitation: pads of paper, shirts, even someone’s hand. you did whatever it was that would make those people happy. you took pictures doing all sorts of poses to make sure everyone had an original experience with you. you even answered several wacky questions people had the burning desire to ask.

then you got to one particular person, holding out a pad and a pen. this person had a very specific question to ask you, a question normal people usually didn’t ask. they asked more random things about your life: your favorite color, food spots you recommended in the city, if you had ever been to the mountains. people rarely asked about anything regarding pianos as that’s all they saw on stage.

“do you prefer beethoven or mozart?”

you paused at your signature, forgetting momentarily how to even sign your name. the question threw you off guard, but you tried your best to pick yourself back up. something about it just seemed familiar, but you couldn't understand why.

“mozart,” you replied as you continued your signature from where you had stopped. it was probably nothing. the debate of beethoven vs. mozart was so prominent in all classical music enjoyers, so this person was probably just curious about your own preferences.

“...because he’s more fun, right?”

you finished your signature, but your pen didn’t move from the paper. you were frozen again. no one knew about the reason you liked mozart. most people had more legitimate reasons as to why they preferred one composer over the other. for you, however, you just enjoyed the fresher feeling that came from mozart’s pieces. you never wanted to admit that to the regular enjoyers of classical music.

“yeah,” you breathed, looking up from the pad of paper to meet the eyes of the person who asked you the question. it was only then that it all came back to you.

just remember! you love mozart. i love beethoven.

“and…you love beethoven.”

the stranger–well could you even call him that if you remembered all this–smiled at your response. “i found you.”

as much as you wanted to say more to him, there were many more people who demanded your attention, and you wanted to give them their time as well. you looked at him and then turned back to the man. “my car’s the white hyundai. i’ll be out when i finish. we can talk then.”

he gave you a nod before disappearing out of the crowd that soon engulfed you with more requests for pictures, signatures, and answers to other strange questions you had.

it was never smart to meet a person in the dark, especially if this person wasn’t someone you had ever met before. this was different, though. the moment you looked into his eyes, you knew the history you had together, the history not within this life.

the reason that was possible was another thing you were unsure of. none of that really mattered though. what mattered was that you were able to see him again, after all the mishaps in your previous life (all of which had slowly come back to you throughout the course of the night).

looking around for him, you were startled when he came up behind you. you gasped.

“your highness!” you covered your mouth at the instinctive exclamation. it was strange to be calling him in such a manner, in this society where there was no more monarchy.

he chuckled at your surprised response. “you can call me taerae. there’s no more strict titles you have to adhere to.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you kept your name. that’s kind of strange to hear.”

“as did you,” he commented, “i almost thought it was too good to be true, but when i heard the advice you gave during your closing speech, i knew. i had to make sure that you remembered though, hence the strange question.”

you shook your head. “it wasn’t strange at all. it was what i asked you in our first conversation, so it was very key. you did say for me to remember that you love beethoven and i love mozart, so it stuck.”

“i’m glad. i’ve been to so many recitals of pianists, asking the same question over and over. some answer beethoven, so i knew that couldn’t be you. some answer mozart but then give me judgemental looks when i ask them if it’s because he’s fun.”

you couldn’t hold in your laughter after thinking about all the embarrassment he had to go through to reach you. “well, my reasons for that preference were simple. i was simple-minded then. i just wanted to play music.”

“are you still like that now? both your preference and simple-mindedness,” he wondered.

“well i like to think i play music just for the sake of it and nothing else,” you began, “as for my preference. i will always like mozart, but beethoven has been growing on me lately.”

taerae gave you an intrigued look before you added on. “especially, piano sonata no. 17. i’ve grown to love tempest so much, and i wondered why. now i remember that it was your favorite.”

an approving nod by taerae proved that your memory did not fail you.

feeling the cold air against your skin, a shiver washed over you. “do you have a ride? anywhere to be?”

when he shook his head no, you knew what had to be done. unlocking you car, you pulled the passenger seat open for him. “get in taerae, let’s catch up.”

seeing how his smile grew to be bigger than you had ever seen, you had to know why. “why are you so smiley this evening?”

taerae merely shrugged before entering the car. “you’ve just never called me by my name before. it was always the fancy titles, so it’s really calming to hear.”

you stuck your tongue out at him. “oh shut up.”

and then you slammed the door in his face. it was going to be a long night of catching up, but you were sure the two of you would be connected in no time.

there was one thing you wanted to make sure before you drove off, however.

“do you still play the guitar?”

“always, i’ll play for you again sometime since you’ve played again for me tonight.”

#🐨 ― matthyeu #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone imagines #zb1 scenarios #zb1 one-shots #kim taerae #zb1 taerae #kim taerae x reader #zb1 taerae x reader #kim taerae imagines #kim taerae one-shot #angst #fluff

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