#punches you in the face with the color orange | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

booppooo · 4 months

Text

play ball!

*warnings: basketballplayer!ellie, afab reader insert, oral (reader and Ellie receiving), fingering - very Toni inspired from The Wilds teehee, oui’d (trigger warning - science)

At first she was just your lab partner. You’d been sat next to each other by chance, in a class that had a very torn ‘fan base’ so to speak. Luckily, when Ellie grumbled, “Fuckin’ hate chem. Physics is the cooler science. Only reason why we got on the moon,” you knew this semester was going to be mildly more tolerable.

But some days you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tip-toe over the line between peers, friends, and a more intense third option. Some days it was strict - work on the lab, punch in the numbers, hand in the work to the professor. Other days, she’d crack a dad joke or two and watch you laugh. Then once in a while, you got the occasional lingering touch or gaze. Like one time, she needed to grab a ruler from the front of the class, and as she stood from her stool and slipped behind you, her palms fell to your shoulders and squeezed.

You could try to argue she was trying to build a friendship, something innocent and platonic. However…Ellie was a walking stereotype: short nails, insanely hot tattoos, carabiner hooked around her belt loop, the occasional lip bite when you giggled at her, and not to mention she was on the basketball team. Truly, all she was missing was the Nike headband and the high bun (which you were admittedly relieved she didn’t wear).

“Hey, let me ask you something,” she sat the marble at the top of the ramp you’d been working on for the better part of a week.

“Okay…” you mindlessly answered, readying the stopwatch on your phone.

She let the marble go and watched as it rolled down, not paying too much mind to Ellie studying you instead, “Do you want to come to my game this weekend?”

Color erupted in your cheeks. The marble rolled onto the floor and the stop watch ran beyond the time it needed to.

Ellie scoffed and left her seat to get the item rolling across the linoleum. Your eyes watched her every move as you formulated the right response. Hopefully the slight tremble in your hand wouldn’t give away your excitement.

“Yeah. When is it?” You swallowed, face ablaze.

Ellie threw the marble up in front of your face and caught it midair, clearly trying to pull a reaction from you, “Saturday at one. I want to see you in the stands.”

And see you in those fucking stands she did. You sat directly in the middle, removed from the families there to support their daughters darting across the court. You remembered Ellie briefly mentioning her adoptive dad a few times, so you scanned the seats to see who could be blessed enough to call her their child.

When the whistle from the middle of the court rang your eyes searched around for a familiar head of auburn hair. She had it tied half up half down, arms on full display and a hilariously serious look on her face. You knew that the basketball team wasn’t anything super special considering the football team got all the attention, and also the fact that you lost most of the games. According to Ellie, it was surprising you were even playing this far in the season. Regardless, the orange ball zipped around the court that was filled with shredded women squeaking their sneakers on the waxed floor. The sport was much more fast paced than you had anticipated. But the real excitement picked up when Ellie’s lengthy fingers finally got a chance at the ball. She was dribbling down the opposite end of the court, trying to get to a decent place where she could shoot or at least pass it to someone. Two players from the opposite team managed to get in front of her and block her. They had some inches on her, but surely that didn’t intimidate her. She was quickly looking for a way out.

“Shoot it Ellie! C’mom!” A man with salt and pepper hair shot from his seat. His voice boomed scarily - that must be her dad.

She flashed a look over her shoulder, smirked at him, then had just enough time to catch your spot in the stand. Thankfully she had kept her feet moving, swishing the ball through her legs and dodging possible steals. After briefly meeting your gaze, she got back to business, tricking the players out of her next move and running toward the net, completing a layup.

The man cheered for Ellie with his thick southern drawl, “That’s it! That’s my girl!” You couldn’t help but clap and cheer alongside everyone else.

As she sauntered back over to the other end of the court, she brought the end of her jersey to her brow to wipe away the sweat reflecting so deliciously from the lights - not before winking at you of course. You felt like a silly school girl when your knees pressed together. You couldn’t think of a single other thing you wanted to be doing this fine Saturday afternoon. Well…one thing of course that involved some of Ellie’s obviously skilled fingers.

Another play began and more squeaking sneakers filled the court. It was getting pretty intense, a constant back and forth for what felt like ages - supposedly the defense on both teams was excellent. Finally it seemed like someone was starting to give, unfortunately it was your schools team, because one of the players from the opposite team was desperately trying to make a shot but Ellie was just a little too good at playing defense. You were amazed at how quick she was. Sadly that wasn’t enough, because the player got by her to make the shot, but as they did you watched their elbow jab right into Ellie’s nose. In the same instant the ball went through the net, whistles were blown and people were running over to Ellie.

“That was on purpose!” Ellie’s dad spat angrily.

Through the small crowd around her you saw all the blood on her hand and even more trailing from her nose. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands. As you watched her get ushered over to the rest of the team, you watched how Ellie’s stare fixated on the rotten player who had gotten her. When she saw her window, she took it, slipping out of the group and over to the player.

“Motherfucker!” A mixture of blood and spit splattered across the players face.

If people hadn’t stepped in sooner, a full blown fight would’ve broken out. Needless to say, Ellie was sat out for the rest of the game after seeing first aid.

“Let me look at that-“ you awkwardly watched Ellie’s dad hold her jaw and turn her face from side to side, “look at that goddamn bruise, she needs to be kicked off the team.” He rambled on.

“Dad, stop it-“ Ellie smacked away his hand, her eyes darting to you from behind him.

He studied her for a moment, before deciding his anger was getting him no where. He knew his daughter probably wanted to sit down and get some water, probably get a shower, too. He sighed, “Well, I’m glad you stuck up for yourself. Good work,” he brought her in for a hug and patted her on the back, “proud of you kiddo. Love you, see you soon.”

You tried your best to hold back an admirable giggle as he turned and passed by you, tilting his head and briefly greeting you with a, “Howdy.”

So you greeted Ellie with the same thing, smiling widely.

“Texas, my dad is from Texas - oh shut up.” Ellie shoved your shoulder playfully.

Now you got to see the bruising on her right eye, there was a bandage across the bridge of her pretty nose hiding the scratch. Thinking back on it, she was pretty hot to watch when she was angry. Now she had something to show for it, so every time you looked at her the scene would replay in your head.

You bit your lip shyly, “You’re uh, you’re alright.” You wished you had researched the sport a little more so you had something to actually talk about.

“Mm - really?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie ran her tongue across her teeth, “Well, I’m glad you think so. Maybe you can tell me just how alright I am tonight when I pick you up.”

How was she so clever? So quick?

Once again she had you fighting for words, “Sure, uhm…what time?”

“You have anything going on at eight?” You shook your head, “Now you do. I’ll see you then.”

Some of that southern charm must’ve rubbed off onto her over the years.

“Oh fuck! Ellie-“

Your fingers were deep in her hair not sure where else to grab in the backseat of her car. Between your moans, the faint music and the absolutely sinful squelching being born from Ellie being knuckle deep in you, it was hard to orient yourself at all. Her tongue sucked and danced on your clit like it was part of her daily routine - and thankfully she did because it had your limbs turning to jelly. Eventually your greed got the best of you because your hips began to grind back against her tongue.

“Shiiiit…”

You pushed her head closer to you, shamelessly using her mouth as a sex toy, because that’s what it essentially was. And she didn’t object either, moaning and panting into your cunt like she was the one with three fingers deep. Each roll of your hips pushed you closer to your climax, adding a whine or pout to your moans.

It seemed though, Ellie had different plans, because her free arm came down on your hips, holding you steady in place. As she pumped into you, her other fingers attacked your clit with a quick waving motion, sending stimulation to you at an almost ungodly pace.

Through your quickened breaths you swore, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck-!”

“Uh huh, c’mom give it to me.” Ellie purred, watching your cunt closely.

Your brain had omitted anything that wasn’t Ellie and your orgasm, leaving you to just moan out a warning that was your approaching orgasm. And she knew, especially when you started clamping down on her fingers, hips jolting, and the borderline scream coming from your lips.

“That’s it, cum on my fingers.”

You began to notice the way Ellie was able to get you do just about anything. She wasn’t big on asking, more on instructing. And you loved it. Especially when she hit you with:

“Okay, my turn.”

You weren’t given much time to come back to earth after the orgasm that just hit you, but the sound of Ellie’s zipper sobered you up pretty quick. As she shimmied off her jeans, you eyed her hips poking out, and the little copper happy trail leading below her black boxers. Drool was pooling under your tongue. She reached for the hem of her boxers, but you pushed her hands aside, taking it upon yourself to rip them down her legs yourself. Your palms must’ve been cold from the way goosebumps littered her thighs as your palms ran down the inners of them; or she was just that excited. She sucked in air through her teeth at the sensation of your lips exploring her hips, licking along her happy trail, feeling the muscle tighten beneath it. Ellie was really beginning to feel the heat building in thr backseat now. There was the undeniable scent of her car fresher, weed, and pussy. Bath and Body Works should take notes.

Starting with your fingers, you dipped into the warm wetness of her cunt and spread her slick, licking off what was left. You didn’t waste another second and let your tongue and lips latch onto her clit, making her moan lowly, leaving you to grumble one of your own. Testing the waters you paid attention to what made her moan and what didn’t, continuing to tease the idea of slipping in a finger or two to see how she would react. Every time your finger circled near her entrance she pushed closer to you and eventually let her fingers snaked into your hair. With you sucking on her clit, she welcomed your middle finger, and you enjoyed how she felt around you.

“Yes-!” She encouraged.

As you massaged her cunt, you marveled in the sounds that she made. You noticed she tried to put on a stoic front, but after you got in a second finger it seemed whatever face she was trying to put on dropped into something that was akin to a porn star. She seemed borderline primal and desperate, grinding down on your fingers and wanting you to get messy with your tongue.

“Faster babe..”

And when you obeyed, her head tilted back gloriously and she wasn’t afraid to let loose. She pushed into you as much as you pumped into her with your burning wrist and jaw. As much as your muscles were begging for relief and a break, your mind was taking snapshots of her manhandling your head and groaning with half-lidded eyes. Not to mention the sultry-ness of her voice:

“Just like that.”

“Right there babe.”

“Fuck - that feels good.”

If you could get those words on loop in your head forever you would. That - or the sensation of her beginning to tighten around your fingers and roll her hips harder onto your face.

She struggled to catch her breath and do you the decency of warning you: “Cumming, I’m cumming I’m cumming-!”

Her thighs squeezed on each side of your head and she took fistfuls of your hair. Her eyes squeezed closed, jaw dropping and a deeply satisfied, “Fuuuck,” rolling off her tongue. A new flavor of sweetness greeted your tastebuds and you caught yourself feverishly lapping at her like a fucking animal. And you would’ve until the sun came up, but Ellie began to whimper softly and squirm away from your advances.

So you let up, gently removing yourself from her and happily licking your fingers clean. She had one hand cradling the back of her head with her eyes closed, desperate to catch her breath. Under her breath she swore and ran her hands down her face to let herself know she was still human. Once your eyes met, you grew shy again, immediately taken aback by how sexily intimidating Ellie’s stare could be - even when she looked fucked out.

She took you gently by the jaw and led you toward her face to envelope you in a sloppy, wet kiss. You knew her goal was to taste herself, and you hoped she did, especially when she hummed as your tongues swirled. It was enough to have you pushing her back against the seats again…but you refrained. Pulling away from the kiss left you breathless.

Ellie looked into your eyes for a beat, “Wanna smoke?”

“With my lab partner? Sure.”

“Ouch.”

You both threw back on your pants and made your way into the front seats to spark up once more. How were you supposed to face her in class now?

#ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

997 notes · View notes

writermai05 · 1 month

Text

Arsonist's Lullabye

Prologue: All you have is your fire

Summary: Zuko’s bad day gets a bit better after an encounter with an unfamiliar face.

Pairing: zuko x fem! reader (Live Action or Animated)

A/N: I am delusional, and when I had the idea for a zuko x reader modern AU where he works in Iroh’s boba tea shop, I had to follow through with said idea. Let’s see if this goes anywhere, and feel free to leave comments or suggestions on how the fic could play out maybe :)

Word Count: 773

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. This is a modern AU that takes place in the avatar world. Bending still exists. Zuko and the gaang are in college in this series !!

TW!: Physical abuse, burns, Ozai in general, Zuko’s backstory is so sad.

Zuko knew it was going to be a long day as soon as he opened the shop at 12pm.

Within the first two hours, he had run out of tapioca pearls, dropped a container filled with matcha on the floor (which by the way, was a pain in the ass to clean up,) and slipped on the floors he had just mopped. Perhaps he was just born unlucky. Perhaps, most people in life didn’t have to struggle the way that he was, the way that he always had. It wasn’t all bad. He was lucky enough to be here, working in his uncle’s tea shop in the Earth Kingdom, rather than in his father’s company back in the Fire Nation.

The Jasmine Dragon was beloved by many. People from all over the city came to have some of the shops' amazing teas and pastries. It wasn’t too busy, having only three people come in today. perhaps because school at the University of Ba Sing Se hadn’t quite started up yet, outside of the students who had moved in early. The shop was particularly chilly today, but the atmosphere managed to maintain the same warm and cozy feeling, with the dim atmospheric lighting and the sage and emerald hued furniture. Zuko had a second to just relax in the stillness.

He appreciated these quiet moments the most. The moments where he could stop worrying about the shop, and overthinking the worst things he had ever done in his life. Such as when he lashed out at his uncle, multiple times, or about the people he had bullied in high school. He was almost able to forget it all. Forget the fact that his younger sister, Azula, was still stuck in a house with his abusive father, or even forget the feeling of his father’s hand, burning the flesh of his face, leaving a scar in its wake, as well as a near complete blindness in his left eye. His demons may be restless, but boy did Zuko keep them on a tight leash.

Zuko’s reverie was broken by the sound of the door’s bell chime. He immediately snapped out of his thoughts, waiting patiently for his assistance to be needed.

“Um, excuse me,”

A girl, who seemed to be around his age, was standing right in front of him. She wore a navy blue dress with a pale blue lining and detailing around the edges. A belt of the same color was around her waist, with a brown leather cord connecting a bag onto her hip. Her black jacket was cropped to about rib length, with brown leather cords fastening it closed, as well as matching black pants and brown boots.

“This is my first time here…Is there anything that you’d recommend?” She asked politely.

There was something about the way her kind eyes twinkled in the orange lighting that made Zuko fluster. He cleared his throat before opening his mouth to talk.

“Well, Lychee juice is a customer favorite. But personally, my Uncle Iroh’s jasmine green tea is the best in Ba Sing Se.”

“The best in Ba sing Se?” She raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

“The best.” he nodded.

“I’ll take it.” She said, reaching to the tote bag slung over her shoulder. Zuko interrupted her actions with the wave of his hand.

Zuko shook his head. “Don’t worry, It’s on me.” he said, as he began punching numbers, into the register.

“Oh no! I can’t let you do that-” She protested.

He shrugged, a blush beginning to warm his cheeks. “For a first time customer.”

“Thank you so much…” She trailed off, waiting for him to tell her his name.

“Zuko.”

“Zuko. I’ll be sure to come by again. And I fully intend on paying that time.” She said with a playful glare.

The boy smiled slightly.

“Your tea will be ready shortly.”

Zuko had Iroh bring the tea over to the girl. He wasn’t confident in his ability to steadily bring the tray of hot tea without causing more burns to cover his body. The older man made sure to give the girl a complimentary fruit tart to enjoy, but not before looking at his nephew with a teasing glint in his eyes. Zuko groaned.

“Not a word, uncle.” He said as he walked through the staff doors into the shops’ kitchen.

After about 20 minutes had passed, Iroh came into the kitchen, clutching what looked like a napkin and some paper Yuan bills.

“Zuko! The girl left this on her table after she left!”

Zuko carefully took the napkin from his uncle’s hand, reading the message.

“Thanks for the tea! - y/n.”

#arsonist's lullabye #atla #atla live action #atla netflix #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #atla x reader #prince zuko imagine #modern au #college au #aang #katara #sokka #toph #zuko

186 notes · View notes

st4rg1rl-16 · 3 months

Text

━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ carlos and lando give arabella love advice while after talking to toto, lewis start to feel threatened by the female rookie also charles confess his feelings

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 29 march

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ manama, bahrein

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ i think only cursing…for now 😜

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ here it is the second chapter! hope it helps to get your minds away from everything is happening because I definitely have a headache

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @burberryfilms @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly

• — need for speed’s masterlist

DESPITE being a couple of meters outside the garage, the red of her t-shirt two sizes too big stood out among the papaya-colored polo shirts of the McLaren staff. She pursed her lips and stood on her tiptoes trying to find the mop of black hair that belonged to her compatriot who, according to Ricciardo, was there.

She was beginning to suspect that the Australian had lied to her.

The truth was that she didn't know if it was a very good idea to go talk about her problem with Charles, with Carlos, but he was the only one she could talk to about everything. For some reason the girl had unconsciously taken the other spaniard as her confidant, closest friend and a bit like an older brother, perhaps because they had a country and culture in common or simply because they connected but Arabella liked being with Carlos and, well , Carlos liked being with Arabella. He saw her as another little sister to take care of and annoy, and he liked that because it made him feel closer to his home, to his family.

“What are we looking at?” A voice next to her made her jump in her place. She turned her body around and narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the owner of said voice.

"Carlos!" She growled his name and he opened those eyes of his wide indicating that he was listening to her "Where were you? I was looking for you".

He shrugged. “In the bathroom, I needed to take a shit”.

"Ah" Her nose wrinkled in displeasure before making a dismissive gesture "Do you want to go eat with me?".

"Okay, but why don't you go with Charles?" They both began walking towards the public cafeteria, he slid his arm around her shoulders and pressed her against his body "Shouldn't you eat together? You know, since you guys are teammates.

"He's busy" The lie came easily from her lips and Carlos seemed to believe it or at least that's what she thought when she saw him nod "Shouldn't you be eating with Lando?"

"Touché".

They walked a couple more minutes since the cafeteria was not far away, when they arrived they ordered and then took a seat.

"Carlos, you have a girlfriend, right?" She was going to wait until she found the best way to introduce the topic but she preferred to get straight to the point.

Which almost led to the older man choking on his orange juice "I mean, you're very pretty but you're a little too young for me and I don't see you like that, Bells".

"Ew, no!" She exclaimed with disgust, leaning back in her seat "That's not what i mean, gilipollas!". Asshole.

"Well, then why are you asking?!" Both raised their voices and since they also spoke in Spanish, they caught the attention of several people. The brown-eyed man cleared his throat "What's the point of that question then?".

She made a noise of displeasure biting her lower lip, she leaned forward indicating to her friend to do the same, he followed her curiously.

"I like a boy or at least I think I like him" She muttered reluctantly. She didn't really like talking about feelings, especially her own.

Sainz smiled broadly, punching her arm "Look at you! I knew that with that face you couldn't be very innocent".

Immediately her cheeks turned as red as her shirt. She stretched out her arm and pinched him, earning a complaint from him while she scolded him "Shut up, damn it, and help me."

"Let's see, tell Tito Carlos who the lucky one is".

"In your dreams".

"Oh, come on, tía". Dude.

"What are you guys talking about?" A third voice spoke in english making both of them turn their heads to see the 55`s teammate looking at them with a big smile on his face and his eyes full of curiosity "Can I join?".

The girl pointed at him with her finger "But you're already sitting down and everything."

"It was to be polite, nothing more" He grabbed the armrests of the chair and began to jump on it to bring it closer to the table.

The spanish drivers looked at each other.

When he was finally happy with the distance between his body and the table he rested his elbows on the armrests and joined his hands, looking at both of them "So, what were we talking about?".

"Well, Bel…

"Don't even think about it," She growled in spanish towards the oldest at the table.

Norris pouted “Please, I want to know too or I'll feel left out.”

"You don't know how to keep secrets, Lando. Not even if your life depends on it" The girl drank her coffee and looked at the british boy who made a noise of dissatisfaction.

"That is not true! I haven't told anyone that we were each other's first kiss, did I?" He spoke proudly of himself, without realizing his mistake.

"For fuck's sake, Lando," She murmured, looking away from both of them.

"Wait, what?!" Carlos looked at both of them in disbelief, turned to the boy and extended his hand with a smile "That's my boy!

The blue-eyed man smiled and bumped his palm against the black-haired man's before he brought him closer to his chest, giving a "men's" greeting. The girl rolled her eyes but laughed when he turned to her and said "You could do better."

"Hey!" Lando's smile faded instantly.

"Back to the topic, I need help. The situation is…complicated, I can't give many details, but I don't know what to say or what to do"

She began to play with the napkins unconsciously to which Carlos smiled slightly, he thought it was cute that she was nervous.

Ah, first love.

"Do you think he likes you?".

She frowned. “Who doesn't like me?”.

Lando snorted earning a glare from the girl.

"Do you want me to remind you that you stuck your tongue down my throat".

"It was many years ago" He made a gesture dismissing her words.

She surreptitiously gave him the finger but he had to ignore it because the waitress arrived with a glass of milk. As soon as they thanked the woman and she was gone, they resumed the conversation.

"I guess he liked me because he kissed me".

Norris grabbed his teammate's arm and started making strange noises while he jumped in his chair.

"It's like a soap opera, how exciting" He approached her and resting her cheek on the palm of her hand, he looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"Okay...?" She looked at him strangely and then turned her gaze to the man in front of her "We kissed several times".

"So, what's the problem?" Carlos looked at her with a frown.

She opened her hands in front of her in frustration “I don't know what to do! I don't have any experience with boys, except for this idiot" She pointed to the boy next to her.

"I think you should talk to him, discuss your feelings and if things are complicated as you say you both should talk if you want to move on or ignore your feelings".

She looked at him silently, weighing his advice. Carlos was right, she had to talk to Charles and clear this up or it could be detrimental to her career, after everything she had fought to get to where she was now.

"What good advice" Lando nodded, pointing to his teammate.

Arabella could only glare at him.

“I THINK I have never seen someone like her” Toto Wolff crossed his arms, observing the track where Arabella and some members of the Ferrari team were. The female driver was going to make a video for YouTube in which she had to drive a few meters and be timed to test the team's latest car model.

Hamilton approached him and tilted his head "What do you mean?".

“I don't know, it's different. She has a lot of passion inside her” The car began to roar and above it the girl's excited scream was heard. He took his phone out of his pants pocket and motioned to his driver to come closer “I've investigated her, she almost died at age thirteen."

Lewis took the phone in his hands and watched the video. It was a Formula 3 race, he soon found the red car with the number nine and smiled: she was leading the race, although he soon frowned when he saw that the car began to lose its balance. He let out a groan as he saw little Arabella's car flying through the air and soon hitting the ground.

“She almost had to learn to walk again and you know what? As soon as she was discharged from the hospital, she got back into a car” He took back his phone and put it away again, looking towards the girl who was pressing the accelerator impatiently for the starting signal to be given.

“She's not afraid” The seven-time champion followed the direction in which his boss was looking.

A smile was planted on the tall man's lips. "Exactly and that's why we need her. I want her in Mercedes”.

That caught the younger man's attention, who quickly turned his head towards the older one. He frowned.

“Even if you offered her twenty million euros more, she wouldn't accept, she just signed with Ferrari. She can’t.”

“But the contracts can be ended, my dear Lewis” He patted him on the back”I need someone so when you retire they can continue your legacy, don't you want that? Someone to pass on your greatness to.”

The Briton remained silent, turning his gaze towards the Ferrari girl who was now doing donuts. Her laughter could be heard from where both men were.

Then Lewis felt jealous. He was jealous because she was young and she had a whole career ahead of her, she enjoyed cars like no one else, surely her skin crawled when she sat in a car and heard it roar. He didn't feel that anymore or at least not like he used to when he started. His heart clenched and he felt like throwing up. What if what she said in Drive to Survive came true? What if she really beat him? Then Toto would put her in Mercedes and he would become an old legend, overthrown by a little girl.

His jaw clenched. “She's only run one race, you still don't know if she is any good.”

"She had won all her life, Lewis." The tall man shrugged, making his white shirt wrinkle. He let out a small laugh. “I'm sure you'll have a tough time this season.”

The braids on his head danced as she turned his head toward him. He scanned him with his gaze before huffing, turning around and heading to his room. Toto followed him with his gaze, pursing his lips, knowing that the champion hadn’t liked that. He let out a sigh.

“Arabella, para!” A man, blond and tall, approached the car that was spinning in a perfect circle. Smoke surrounded the car and the screeching of the tires wearing out against the ground sounded throughout the track. He approached the car making the girl stop, she did it abruptly but still the car was perfectly aligned with the man's body, the front was a few meters from him so both could see each other's eyes through of the front window. The car began to roar louder and louder as the man pointed to the ground. “Get out of the car, miss.” Stop.

A few seconds later the car turned off and the girl's long, wavy brown hair emerged from the left side, and she was grumbling in a low voice.

From the way the blonde was scolding her, the CEO assumed that he was someone who had authority over her, the iPad and the phone in his hand told him that probably he was her manager, maybe her father or her uncle.

He grimaced, stretching his lips before beginning to walk towards them.

"What have we said about reckless things?" He heard the blonde scold her and wanted to laugh at her when he saw her head down.

“I race for Formula One, what's more reckless than that?” She murmured to which the man opened his mouth but was interrupted by the arrival of the Mercedes head. Arabella frowned when she saw that the scolding did not come, she raised her head to see that her manager wasn’t even looking at her, she turned her head and even she was surprised “Toto Wolff.”

The former driver smiled charmingly, extending his hand toward her “Arabella Torres, the new sensation of Formula One. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm a fan.”

“Oh, I- thank you very much, I'm a fan of yours too” She accepted her hand firmly. Toto noticed how her face changed to a more serious, more professional one.

“I wanted to say congratulations to you for your position in the classification, eighth place is pretty good for being your first race in Formula One” The charming smile once again made its way between his lips and she wanted to frown. Call her distrustful but she didn't believe he was there, talking to her, just to congratulate her.

Instead she smiled politely and nodded, "Thank you, it means a lot. It would have been better to get the first position, but that will be tomorrow”.

He laughed while she felt her manager poking his index finger into her back. “I like your enthusiasm, it's what we need at Mercedes.”

And there it fucking was.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying?".

“I would like to offer you a seat in Mercedes for when your contract with Ferrari ends” The proposal hit her like a bucket of cold water. She didn't believe it, it had to be a joke.

“Uh, yeah, Hello? Nicholas Jansen, her manager” With a slight push the blonde pushed her out of the way, he looked at the Mercedes team principal with a somewhat sarcastic smile “My client still can't talk about other proposals until her contract ends, I'm sorry.”

"Nicholas..." She tugged at his shirt, murmuring his name as a reprimand, the blonde ignored her.

Wolff nodded “I understand” He looked down from her to the girl “But she should think about it, two years go by very quick and Mercedes is not the only one who is interested in her.”

And with that he walked away from both of them, leaving them both speechless.

“What...?” The green-eyed girl watched as the former pilot's figure diminished as she walked away from her. She looked at her manager, furrowing her eyebrows. “Did he just say that there are more teams interested?”

“Yes, but what does it matter? Ferrari is what you've wanted since you were a kid” The suit wearing man looked at her curiously. He took two steps back when she didn't answer. "You're not thinking about changing colors, are you?".

She swallowed, looking away from Wolff and denied, "No, but it's good to know there are more options."

WHEN Charles met Arabella he believed that, although it sounded like a stupid and typical cliché, he had died and gone to heaven and that she was the angel who took his hand and guided him to his new home. He felt strange because he had never stopped to look at many girls, yes he had had some silly relationships but his main interest had always been cars, but her? Arabella Torres was like the finest work of art you could ever see in your life and it was hard not to focus on her.

He had seen her race and could confirm that he was impressed: she was fast, very fast and her driving style was risky and dangerous but still light and elegant. He had always been curious about the driver girl but had never managed to see her face or at least close to her to be able to appreciate her well.

And he regretted it.

It was in Maranello, 2016 when he met her, she was going to sign for the Ferrari academy and, by chance or destiny, he was there to train. He remembers that she got inside the place with her father and her manager to her side, a sly smile hung on her lips making her look like the she owned the place unlike the other rookies who looked nervous and intimidated by being there. She, on the other hand, oozed confidence from her pores.

He liked that, although what he liked most was that when they were introduced she smiled at him and whispered about how she was actually very nervous. He liked that she trusted him.

And now, three years later, Charles had not slept for five days because every time he closed his eyes and the silence and darkness of the night enveloped him, he saw her. He saw her deep gaze that hypnotized him, her full lips that screamed for him to bite them, her skin that needed his touch. Every time he closed his eyes he remembered the kiss –the kisses– that they shared that night in Australia, he remembered that things had become tense and since then she hadn’t spoken to him and if she did it was for what was necessary.

He let out a sigh opening his eyes, a few seconds later he put both fists on the mattress to get up and sit on the edge of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he hid his face in his hands and let out a big sigh again. He separated his right index finger from his ring finger, leaving a gap large enough to see his phone resting on the nightstand next to the bed.

Pursing his lips and after thinking for a couple of seconds, he rushed for the device. His long, thin fingers typing rapidly on the screen that illuminated his face in the dark.

He waited a couple of minutes for her to answer but there was no response so he got up and went to the large window that was located next to the bed, he rested his left arm on the window frame and watched the streets of Manama until a couple of knocks against the wood of the door sounded, waking him up from his thoughts. He turned away from the window and looked in the direction of the door, fiddling with his bracelets before starting to walk.

When he opened the door his breath caught in his throat, he was nervous. He had seen her in the morning because they had flown together on the team's jet but they hadn't talked much and, now, whatever he had planned to say to her she had packed her bags and run.

The girl in front of him looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow when her gaze landed on his torso. And his shirt? Where was his shirt?.

She swallowed and finally looked up at his face. Rolling her eyes as soon as she saw the mischievous smile on the Monegasque's lips, she stretched out her hand and planted it on his chest right above where his heart was and pushed him and then entered the room. She laughed silently when she saw that his smile had faded.

“Well, what did you want to talk about?” She sat on the discarded bed when he pointed at it. She bent her legs and sat on top of them, making herself comfortable while watching Charles move to a safe distance from her. The question was stupid because she knew very well what he wanted to talk about, it was very clear that they would talk about the kiss –the kisses–.

“I want to talk about what happened in Melbourne” What a surprise, Arabella thought, directing her gaze to the other side of the room. Charles looked at her, trying to read her because making her uncomfortable was what he least wanted. He pressed his lips together, making them disappear in a thin line. "Look, if you feel uncomfortable, we can...”

"No, no, no," She interrupted him, waving both hands. She nodded repeatedly. “Okay, I think we should talk too. I wanted to have told you something before but I didn't know what to say.”

She felt heat rising up her neck and quickly realized that her face had turned red. She was grateful that he hadn't turned on the lights, and it was no wonder since she was sitting next to the boy she had kissed. four in the morning in his bed while he was half naked.

If her father saw her, he would kill her.

Or worse, her grandfather.

“Do you want... to start?”

“How....?”

They both began to laugh as they spoke at the same time, a few seconds later the laughter faded with the silence and turned into smiles as they looked into each other's eyes. Leclerc let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead, still with a smile on his face and without breaking eye contact.

“I liked the kiss—the kisses” At the mention of the word kisses she hid her face in her hands in a shy manner. Charles's smile widened. "Hey, don't hide." He brought her hand to his to uncover her face. Without realizing it, he brought his body closer to hers.

She uncovered the upper half of her face, hiding her mouth on which a smile was painted, and looked at him, asking herself if what she was experiencing was real. She looked at him shyly. "I don't know what to say." She let out a nervous laugh and Charles thought she looked adorable. "This is the first time this has happened to me."

“Happened what: someone kissed you or that they tell you that they liked your kisses?” The eldest was surprised to see her shy and so nervous, it was not something typical for her. His chest swelled with pride knowing that he was the cause of it. He looked at her, raising both eyebrows. “Was I your first kiss?”

She gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “No, I don't mean that.” Oh, his chest deflated quickly. She bit her lower lip, feeling small in front of him "It's just... I haven't had much time for relationships. Boys didn't get close to me and I was too focused on the cars”

“Well, they were idiots” He took her hand and planted a light kiss on her knuckles “And don't worry, we can go slowly. No hurry.”

How ironic.

She smiled, somewhat uncomfortable because she really didn't know what to say "Eh, so what now?"

"Now I guess I tell you that I like you, that I like you since I saw you almost three years ago, but it's only been two months since I realized it and it's something I really regret." He gave her a sad smile and kissed her knuckles again.

“I like you too, Charles. I don’t know for how long, but I know I like you a lot," she responded to the smile.

Before either of them could say anything else Charles closed the distance between them and kissed her.

187 notes · View notes

luceracastro · 2 months

Text

Always You

Fran Romero x reader

Summary: Fran and you had known each other for basically your whole lives, him and your older brother being friends since forever and you being his favorite girl as you would recall him calling you since forever, however after you both reach adulthood certain feelings come to light

Warnings: brother’s best friend trope, fluff, some angst with comfort, kissing but nothing too crazy!

Ever since you could remember Fran had been in your life, hell there’s even pictures of him and your brother with you as a baby all over the house framed

He was the sweetest towards you, he was kind and respectful always defending you towards your brother and everyone else, protecting you and it warmed your heart as a kid

You admired him in many ways than one. He was always attentive towards you and as you both grew it was more constant , when him and your brother entered their teen phase he was sweet to you while your brother was more rude and annoying

When you wanted to show Fran something you had made, the high grade you got on a test or assignment, the newest color you painted your nails or something new you had just bought he always listened even if that meant interrupting him and your brothers conversation, a movie, or video game session

When your brother would tell you to leave them alone Fran wouldn’t take too kindly to that “oye boludo callate es una nena,” or “nomas me quiere enseñar algo” he’d also at times punch your brothers shoulder when he made fun of you or teased you about something

He had endearing nicknames for you also, Bonita, hermosa, Linda, nena, Chiquita and etc. Fran had a huge soft spot for you ever since but once the age of 18 hit him he didn’t come around as much since he was always in his theater classes or busy with school and his new adult life

Him and your brother still met up but over at his place instead, you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you sad or mad, he however still sent you a message here and there and though he missed six birthdays from work or theater that didn’t stop him from sending your brother back from his place with a birthday card with some money and a gift

Also a happy birthday message, but you still missed seeing him and at some point you sadly got used to the fact that he had a whole different life from you, of course he would he had a whole life to live and dreams

Your 21st birthday was around the corner and though you had stopped having birthday parties at the age of 16 your mom thought it’d be a great idea to have one for your 21st birthday, you were finally officially legal for everything

You woke up to voices and music downstairs and you walked down the steps to be met with decorations around the house and in the backyard your dad and uncles moving around tables and chairs and more decorations “Feliz cumple pelotuda” your brothers voice rang out from behind you and you smiled turning around “gracias pelotudo” he gave you a hug

You had walked into the kitchen to see your mom and to your surprise Fran’s mother, “Aye Mira La Niña” Fran’s mom laughed as you chuckled your face held subtle surprise, she hadn’t came around much after Fran stopped coming

“Feliz cumple mi amor” she gave you a hug which you returned with a smile “gracias” once you both separated from the hug you looked around to see all your favorite foods were being prepared “Linda, sabes quien va venir hoy” your mom asked as you sat down peeling a orange “no, quien?” You asked not really paying much mind “Fran” she said happily and your eyes widened

It had been years that he hadn’t seen you and you him “de verdad?” You asked and his mother nodded “Si, Por fin el tiene tiempo libre” she said and you nodded, after so long he was finally going to show up.

You had showered, done your makeup and hair then got dressed, in reality you were a bit nervous for all eyes to be on you, you hadn’t really had a whole birthday celebration since you were 16 and now basically your entire family and family friends were going to show up

As you stepped downstairs there was already a line of your family members waiting to greet you and wish you a happy birthday giving you a bunch of birthday cards and some present bags, you smiled from ear to ear genuinely as it actually feel nice to see your family all together with your home full of life

“Oye boluda ten” you turned to see your brother holding two small wrapped up boxes, you grinned taking them from him and unwrapping the first, a bracelet of real gold from a famous jewelry shop, the second was a necklace from the same place and you smiled “gracias, te quiero” you wrapped your arms around him as he did the same “Si si you tambien te quiero” he chuckled as he hugged you

The party was going well and you turned hearing your brothers voice, you froze seeing Fran enter with a smile on his face, he looked a bit different with his hair more grown out and a more structured face and slightly more taller than before, he smiled greeting your parents and other family members that were around him

then he set his eyes on you, the two of you could only look at one another and you practically felt frozen, he walked over to you a soft smile on his lips, “hola, te vez hermosa” he said a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as you smiled turning red just like when you both were kids “gracias Fran” he held the neatly wrapped present in front of you with a birthday card inside a light purple envelope with your name on it

You smiled taking the gift in your hands “ya los 21, me siento viejo” he laughed making you laugh as well “no seas dramatico nomas me ganas con 2 años” you said and sat down which he followed to do and he could only look at you “que?” You asked softly “perdon, por todo” he said and you raised a brow “por que?” You asked and he sighed “deje de venir y falte tus cumpleaños” he explained and you shook your head

“No no tranquilo la verdad no pasa nada Fran no quiero que te sientes asi” you said shaking your head and he smiled at you “y todavia sigues siendo la misma dulce niña de antes” he smiled and you chuckled “quieres comer? Te sirvo?” You asked and he shook his head “pero todavia accompañame” you nodded following him to where all the food was

He served his plate and you both went to sit down, “y entonces nena, como has estado todo este tiempo?” He asked before taking some food into his mouth “bueno todo esta bien pero la escuela es un joder y tambien con el trabajo aye no” you shook you head and Fran laughed “aye pobrecita La Niña” you rolled your eyes playfully

“Y tu?” You asked “todo esta bien, sigo en el theatro y el trabajo me va bien” he said and you nodded “Que bueno” you smiled “pero te extrañe mas que nada” he admitted and you smiled “yo tambien Fran” he smiled wrapping an arm around you pulling you close planting a kiss on the side of your head just like when you two were younger making you giggle

“Recuerdas cuando tu hermano te grito bien feo que le di en la cabeza con uno de los libros de la escuela” you both laughed at the memory “si, aye tu siempre me defendias” you smiled at him and he nodded “pues claro como no defender a mi princessa” he smiled at you. That night you both talked for hours and hours about the memories you both had and you tried to hold onto it all never wanting it to end because you thought that after that he would go back to no contact all over again

But the next morning walking downstairs you were surprised to see him and your brother on the couch with plates of breakfast you were sure your mother made them “buenas boluda” your brother said and you nodded over at him “hola nena” Fran smiled at you “hola” you grinned sitting beside him he wrapped an arm around pulling your legs over his just like before

You smiled and your brother gave you both a look but then turned back to the TV “aye buenos dias mija quieres un plato?” Your mom asked and you nodded “por favor mami” she nodded walking into the kitchen, it felt like old times really.

Since then Fran didn’t stop coming over, he came almost everyday even if only for a little bit and he was constantly hanging out with you, inviting you to outings with him and your brother, or doing things together.

And both of your parents took note of it, how attentive Fran was to you how he took care of you, did anything for you “se van a casar lo tengo por seguro” your mother said

Fran then started bringing you little gifts and treats even flowers and you both became closer than before if that was even possible, he had already been told by your parents that they’d love for you to be with someone like him and his mother and father entertained the idea as well

He however deeply cared about how your brother felt about it, he knew secretly how protective he was of you and if anything were to happen to you he’d lose it completely but on one night when your brother was drunk out of his mind he said what he really thought

Your brother threw an arm over Fran as he was tipping over until Fran wrapped an arm around him laughing “oye oye escucha me mira mira, guey yo veo como vez a mi hermana eh” his words slurred and he tipped over occasionally and as Fran was about to protest your brother interrupted “no no escucha pelotudo mira” Fran was quiet now waiting for what your brother had to say “si ella va tener novio quiero que sea contigo” Fran looked at your brother like he had grown two heads

“O sea yo mismo vi como la cuidas, desde que eramos niños la cuidabas con tu vida guey y tampoco soy pendejo yo veo como la miras” your brother said giggling drunkenly and Fran rolled his eyes a playful smile on his lips “bueno bueno, si me gusta tu hermana siempre me a gustado ” Fran chuckled “pero si le haces daño te rompo los huevos” your brother said and Fran nodded “yo nunca le haria daño a esa princessa” Fran said and your brother nodded

The following week Fran had built up enough courage to ask you out, his hands were sweating and his belly was full of nerves “Fran, hola” you gave him a hug letting him in “mi hermano esta en su cuarto” you said letting him know but instead he moved to sit by you on the couch and you looked at him, he finally had asked you and you of course accepted

You had gotten ready and you knew it was a simple date but you still put effort in what you wore, you had walked downstairs to find him with pink and white hued roses in his arms for you and you smiled looking at them “gracias, son hermosas” you smiled “dame mija te los pongo en agua” your mom took a hold of the roses and you thanked her

“Lista?” He asked and you nodded, he had been a gentleman the whole time opening the doors for you and he took you to your favorite restaurant and made sure you ordered whatever you liked and wanted, most first dates are awkward or not as enjoyable but knowing Fran your whole life it was fun and enjoyable as you two couldn’t stop laughing the whole time

He then took you to get your favorite ice cream and you both took a walk at a park that was beautiful, “quieres saber algo” he said and you turned your head to look at him “que?” You asked and he sighed “que te amo” he said and you nodded “ yo tambien te amo” you said and he stopped in his tracks “no nena, te amo, te amo y no como un amigo o hermano” he said and you were a bit surprised

“De verdad?” You asked and he nodded but your first move was to grab his face and kiss him, fran at first was surprised not kissing back but after a few seconds his lips moved against yours his hands moving to hold your face “yo tambien te amo, y no como amiga ni hermana” you giggled and he smiled kissing you once again

“Siempre ha sido tu, eres la amor de mi vida” he said smiling and you smiled “y tu el mio” you said running your fingers through his hair. That night you went home as his girlfriend and him as your boyfriend

A/n: since in my last poll almost everyone chose the fic with enzo over Fran’s I decided to do a one shot instead for Fran’s prompt but might still make this a longer fic when I’m done with kuku and Enzo’s :)

Hope you all enjoy and likes,comments, and reblogs are appreciated but if you don’t want to no worries my loves as long as you guys enjoy the read <3333

(Also yk I had to tag my lovely @madame-fear )

#lsdln cast #fanfic #francisco romero #esteban kukuriczka #matias recalt #enzo vogrincic #juani caruso #francisco romero x reader

172 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-things730 · 8 months

Text

Misguided Messages

Summary: Y/N’s ex can’t handle the fact that she moved on from him and she’s happy with Hook. But when he starts doing more than sending them glares backstage, Hook makes it known that you don’t ever threaten his girl.

Warnings: creepy ex, cussing, violence, blood, threats, fights, protective!Hook, angst?, fluff, simp!Hook, teensy tiny bit of spice if you squint

𝘼/𝙉: AAAAHHHHH, I’m doing it! I’m finally posting an imagine🥳😭 I hope you guys love it! It’s definitely not perfect, and I’ve got a lot to learn, but I tried my bestest! And of course I have to give SO MUCH THANKS to @99hook!!🧡 I would never have posted this if it wasn��t for her love and support!!!! Thank you so much bestie for motivating me and I hope you love it bestie!!!🥰🧡🖤

Having an ex work at the same company as you shouldn't be that big of a deal.

You'd think everyone should be able to behave professionally and go about their day to day lives normally.

But no; because Y/N's ex didn't know the meaning of the word normal.

He was a low card wrestler at AEW; barely even on tv. He was only shown when the better wrestlers needed an easy win.

She had dated him a long time ago, back when she was in college and he was still in the indies.

But now she had risen the ranks in AEW backstage, and was a fan favorite backstage interviewer and occasionally she even got to dabble in storylines.

It was right around when he first joined Team Taz that Hook met Y/N.

There was an instant attraction between the two, and she even pulled his first words out of him in a backstage interview.

Everyone could see the chemistry between them; even the fans picked up on it.

The fans really started to ship them after a particular incident.

"So Ricky, Hook, how is Team Taz feeling about the upcoming-" Her question is cut short when Darby Allin and Sting come from out of nowhere and attack the two.

Y/N let's out a pained yell as she gets pushed over in the chaos and twists her ankle.

Her eyes widen however when Hook punches Sting extremely hard in the gut, before running over to kneel beside her.

He scoops her up into his arms and backs away from the fight. "Are you ok?"

"I'm ok" she replies. "You should go help Ricky, I'm alright"

Hook just shakes his head no, casting one more glance over to Ricky. He and Ricky exchange nods, and he knows Ricky's got it handled.

So he turns and walks down the hall towards the medical room. "I saw you land on your ankle; how bad does it hurt?"

"Not that bad" Y/N answers. "I think my heels just made it hurt worse"

Hook nods, and it's then that he notices the camera man following them.

He scowls, and adjusts Y/N so he's holding her with one arm before shoving the camera to the ground. "Get that shit out of her face!"

After that, fans were itching to see them get together. And even though neither one were willing to admit it, they were too.

But it wasn't until Hook's in ring debut that it finally happened.

"Hey Hook!" Y/N runs over to him with an excited smile. "Are you excited to debut?!"

"Damn.." Hook can't help but audibly groan at the sight of her.

She was always a sight to behold, but tonight she looked even more breathtaking than usual. She had on a cropped corset top with a see through bodice that had floral lace patterns etched onto it, high waisted leather short-shorts, knee high black boots that had orange rhinestones bedazzling the heel, her natural hair down, and very light makeup; the only pop of color was bright orange highlighting the inner corner of her eye.

"Y-Yeah" Hook stutters out an answer to her question.

"You're gonna do absolutely amazing!" Y/N encourages.

He smiles, bashful at her praise. "Thanks Y/N"

"Tyler!" The two look up when Hook's name is called.

Taz, who was walking over to check on his son, can't help but smirk and chuckle at the pink color on Hook's cheeks. That was definitely not something you see everyday.

"How are you feeling about your first match son?" Taz asks, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm all good dad" he replies.

"And Y/N, it's always lovely to see you honey" Taz greets. "And you're representing the FTW colors, I love it"

"Thanks Taz" Y/N grins. "I thought it was appropriate given Hook's debut"

"Absolutely!" Taz agrees with a grin. "You know, it's a shame to put that outfit to waste"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asks.

"Well, Ricky and Hobbs aren't able to go out with Hook tonight. So, if you're both cool with it, you could go out with him. Maybe stand ringside" Taz offers.

Hook's eyes widen as he shoots his dad a warning look. His dad was always trying to meddle with him and Y/N-

"I'd love to!"

His eyes widen even more as his head snaps back down to look at Y/N. "R-Really?"

"Yeah! If you'd like me too, of course" Y/N replies.

"Yes! I'd be happy for you to" Hook scrambles to get the words out fast enough before doing his best to recollect himself and return his face to its usual stoicalness.

Taz let's out a laugh, before patting Hook's shoulder. "Well I best be going, commercial's almost over and I gotta get back to commentary. You're up next son, and you're gonna do great. See you two later"

They both say goodbye before Hook turns to Y/N. "Sorry he just volunteered you to do that. You really don't have to if you don't want to"

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asks. "Of course I want to"

Before Hook can respond his music hits.

"Well go on!" Y/N encourages. "I'll be right behind you"

He smiles back at her, and takes a deep breath before daring to peck her on the cheek really quickly before walking out.

Y/N falters for a second, and blushes wildly while her fingers brush over where he kissed her.

Then she snaps out of it and follows him out.

Y/N grins proudly at the pop he gets from the audience, and claps along with them as she trails behind him down the ramp.

He circles the ring as Y/N stops in his corner.

Hook climbs in and walks over to his corner, paying Fuego Del Sol no mind as he leans against the turnbuckle.

Y/N smirks mischievously before climbing up to the apron and looking right in Hook's eyes.

He has to stop himself from reacting to the close proximity of their faces as she leans against the opposite side of the turnbuckle.

"I know you're gonna do amazing" she smiles softly, running her hand over his jaw.

He has to fight as hard as possible to stop a smile from overtaking his face.

Her thumb trails over his bottom lip as he stares at her adoringly.

And when the ref walks over to tap Hook on the shoulder so he'll turn around, she pecks him right on the lips before hopping off the apron and down to ringside.

His eyes widen, and his eyes trail after her.

She smirks at him, and points towards Fuego to indicate he should turn around.

He sends her a smirk back before turning to focus on his match.

He officially asked her to be his girl as soon as they got backstage, and she was so excited to say yes. After that Y/N and Hook were always together.

She always accompanied him to the ring, and Hook would be lying if he said he didn't love getting to show her off.

Y/N in turn, loved to be shown off by him. The way he was so proud to be her boyfriend made her heart melt.

Y/N was also not afraid to get in someone's face if they were messing with Hook.

At Hook's third match, when QT Marshall grabbed his ankle, Y/N was quick to intervene.

"Hey! Bastard!" Y/N storms around the ring to plant herself face to face with QT Marshall.

Was he much bigger than her, and a trained wrestler? Yes. But did he intimidate her? Not at all.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" Ricky exclaims from commentary. "Pissed off woman headed your way QT! Better watch out!"

Taz laughs. "Ain't no saving him now!"

"Keep your pathetic hands to your damn self!" She screams. "You're just pissed because Hook has already surpassed you and this is only his third professional match! You're so desperate to prove that you can train someone better than him; and you're too stupid to realize that's never gonna happen! Because Hook has more natural talent in his pinky finger than you have in your whole body!"

Hook can't help but peer over at his girl, a cocky smirk resting on his face as he watches her defend him.

"You listen here-" QT points his finger in Y/N's face.

But he's cut off by the bell ringing, signaling the end of the match.

Neither of them had realized that Hook locked Solo in a redrum.

Y/N let's out a cheer as she hops up onto the apron, but before she fully steps into the ring QT beats her to it.

Hook lightly pushes her back, signaling for her not to get in as he steps up to QT.

Hook turns away from QT after a moment, sick of the man yelling in his face, and that’s when QT grabs Hook's arm and yanks Hook around to face him.

The look on Hook's face is dangerous, and QT quickly raises his hands in surrender.

But it was way too late, and Y/N lets out a laugh when Hook hits him with an overhead throw and plants him onto the mat.

Hook turns back to her, and jumps out of the ring. He stops and holds his hand out to help her down.

She smiles at him as the two walk up the ramp, with Hook placing his hand on Y/N's hip and pulling her into his side.

"You screaming at him was so fucking sexy" he breathes into her ear.

Y/N looks up at him, and he smirks at the blush on her face.

But QT Marshall just never knew when to quit.

The match between Serpentico and Hook was extremely quick.

Serpentico didn't even have an opportunity to take his kimono off before he tapped.

Taz, Ricky, and Y/N were all laughing and cheering for Hook's win as he kept Serpentico locked in the redrum after the bell.

But Y/N's smile morphs into a glare when QT Marshall comes strolling out. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, this is the exact crap I'm talking about! Hey! This is what I'm talking about! You idiots don't realize what he's doing!"

Hook lets Serpentico go to turn and face QT with an annoyed look.

"Hitting the guy before the bell, keeping the choke on too long. His dad's laughing about it, his girlfriend's cheering him on" QT complains.

Y/N quirks an amused eyebrow at him, and nods her head.

Taz laughs again from his seat at the commentary table. "Yeah I am"

Hook just rolls his eyes and waits for Y/N to join him at his side before walking up the ramp.

"He's a delinquent!" QT exclaims.

Y/N intertwines her fingers with his as they walk by QT without acknowledging him.

But Y/N let's out a surprised yelp when QT grabs her arm and turns her to face him.

Hook feels her be yanked back, and whips around with a furious glare.

He pushes Y/N behind him, before getting chest to chest with QT.

QT continues to scream, but Hook doesn't really hear any of it. All he knows is that QT touched his girl.

Hook grabs QT and T-Bones him as hard as he can.

Hook stands up, and walks over to Y/N. "You ok baby?"

"Yeah, I'm good Ty" she answers with a smile.

Hook takes her hand again, and steps over QT's body.

He then turns around to place his hands on Y/N's waist and pick her up to place her on the other side of QT so she doesn't have to step over him.

Taz is still laughing at commentary as the two walk backstage. "You never put your hands on Hook's girl! And if you do, he's gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

"They're like AEW's Bonnie and Clyde!" Excalibur says with a laugh.

Y/N also started learning to commentate around that time, and Taz was happy to be her mentor.

Y/N was sitting at the commentary table next to Taz. She was quiet for the time being, because QT Marshall was out there with one of his students and Y/N refused to acknowledge him.

But then something catches her attention, and she turns to look at QT with a raised eyebrow. "Ladies and gentlemen, the recipient of the first ever QT Marshall certificate of accomplishment: Hook!"

She crosses her arms as she stares QT down, suspicious of his intentions.

But she can't help a smile growing on her face when Hook's music hits, and he comes walking out.

He glances over at her before making his way down the ramp.

"What?!" Chris Jericho exclaims surprisedly.

"The cold-hearted handsome devil: Hook" Excalibur says.

"Here he comes!" Jericho exclaims excitedly.

"We're not quite sure what the hell this is about with QT and the certificate of accomplishment" Taz says.

"Hook looks annoyed that somebody woke him up to send him out here" Jericho laughs, making Y/N laugh as well. "He probably is"

"QT likes to take a lot of credit for training Hook" Y/N rolls her eyes.

Y/N goes to stand up, but Taz grabs her arm and lightly pulls her back down. "Don't go smacking the guy up just yet Y/N" he says with a chuckle.

Y/N recrosses her arms as she keeps her eyes fixed on the ring.

"This is such a special night" QT starts. "I mean normally a mentor-" he stops when the crowd starts chanting for Hook. "Yeah, give it to him guys. He deserves it. Normally a mentor would get jealous when his protege surpasses him, but not me, I'm not a selfish kind of guy-"

Y/N laughs when the audience boos at that.

"I'm not!" QT insists. "So I’m just gonna get right to it. Hook, congratulations. This is something you're gonna be able to tell your grandkids about. You are the recipient of the inaugural, first ever, QT Marshall certificate of accomplishment"

QT takes the plaque from Aaron Solo as he shoots off a confetti gun.

Y/N can't help but giggle at the unimpressed look on Hook's face as confetti falls around him.

"What the hell is going on?" Taz groans.

But then Hook slams Solo's head into the certificate, making Y/N and Taz burst into laughter as Hook makes his way back up the ramp.

But Y/N's smile drops when Danhausen comes creeping out from backstage.

She immediately stands up and storms over when Danhausen tries to curse Hook.

Hook is completely unfazed, and moves to step around Danhausen.

But Y/N snatches the back of Danhausen's shirt and pulls him around to face her before slapping him right in the face.

Everyone at the commentary table cringes at the sound.

"Y/N just slapped the taste out of Danhausen's mouth!" Jericho laughs hysterically at the shocked look on Danhausen's face.

"I think the curse backfired on Danhausen!" Excalibur exclaims.

"You don't mess with Y/N's man you guys" Taz laughs.

Hook wraps his arm around Y/N's waist and pulls her backstage as she glares at Danhausen.

"Calm down mamas" he breathes into her ear.

Hook smirks as she falters, and he admires the blush lighting up her face. "You like that nickname mamas?"

Y/N nods, burying her face in his chest as she hugs around his torso.

He laughs softly and presses a kiss on top of her head. "The last time you reacted like that was when I called you babygirl"

He just laughs again when she has a similar reaction, before swatting his chest. "Stop teasing me!"

"I'm sorry babygirl" he says in a low tone. He lets his hands trail down her body to rest on her hips. "I didn't mean to tease you. I just love those cute little reactions.. my cute girl"

Y/N smiles up at him, and gets on her tip toes to press a kiss to his nose.

Hook's face flushes red, and it's Y/N's turn to smirk. "It's ok, because I love your cute little reactions too honey"

Hook squeezes her hips, and leans down to bury his head in the crook of her neck. That nickname always made him bashful and blush.

Y/N giggles and runs her fingers through his hair.

Even after Hook accepted Danhausen as a tag partner, Y/N was a little unsure of him.

She didn't like how he wanted to fight Hook at first, and Y/N was a little protective of Hook.

But he did grow on her eventually, and she was so excited when the two worked together to beat Tony Nese and Mark Sterling.

But it was around this time that Y/N's ex was suddenly unable to keep his stupid fucking mouth shut.

"Hello Miss Y/N" she hears from behind her, and turns to face Danhausen with a smile.

"Hello Danhausen" she greets back. "How are you today?"

"Very well, very well indeed. I just came over to see-"

"Y/N" Danhausen is cut off by a man he doesn't recognize stepping out in front of them.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but Danhausen notices the way she takes a step closer to him. "What do you want Matthew?"

"I just wanted to talk to you without your little boy toy behind you" Matthew scowls.

"Uh, hello. Danhausen here" Danhausen waves. "She has a very evil friend instead"

"Like I'm scared of you" Matthew laughs.

"Like you have any room to talk" Y/N retorts. "At least Danhausen gets matches. When was the last time you wrestled? I don't even know, but I'm sure it was a throw away match to get someone else over"

Y/N smirks at the look on Matthew's face, knowing what she said was true.

"Just leave me the fuck alone Matthew" Y/N demands. "You know I have a boyfriend. And he is a hundred times the man you could ever dream of being, and makes me a million times happier than you ever did"

With that she grabs Danhausen's arm and pulls him down the hall with her.

"I'm not gonna give up that easily! Mark my words, you'll be hearing from me!" Matthew yells.

Danhausen turns to curse him, but Y/N just yanks him down the hallway. "He's not even worth it"

"Who was that despicable person?" Danhausen asks.

"He's just an ex" Y/N answers. "He just has a hard time accepting that I broke up with him. He hadn't bothered me in a while though.. I thought he was finally gonna leave me alone"

"We should tell Hook" Danhausen says.

"No! Please don't!” Y/N immediately replies. "Tyler will loose his damn mind, and he needs to be focused on his match tonight. The last thing I want is for him to get suspended or something because he attacked Matthew. Which we both know is what he'll do"

Danhausen is silent for a few moments, before huffing. "Fine, Danhausen will not tell for now. But if he bothers you any more we must"

It didn't take very long for him to do just that.

But this time he made the mistake of doing it when Hook was around.

Y/N giggles at a joke Danhausen tells her as the two sit in catering.

It was late; the last match had wrapped up a while ago, so they were the only ones there.

They had decided to hang out at the venue a little later than usual, and Hook was now taking a shower really quick before the three headed out.

"Hey Y/N"

"Ew!" Danhausen screams. "It is creepy rat man!"

Y/N can't help but burst out in laughter at Matthew's expense.

"I want to talk to you" Matthew says, attempting to be assertive in his tone.

But Y/N had changed a lot from the meek girl she was when she was with him. That tone may have worked on her once, but never again.

And she knew that infuriated him when she looked over at him with a bored expression. "I don't wanna talk to you though. So too bad"

"You really think you're all that now because you're Hook's latest piece of ass, huh? He doesn't give a damn about you, but you're too fucking stupid to realize that. He'll never treat you the way I did-"

"The way you did?!" Y/N exclaims, jumping up from her seat to glare daggers at him. "You're right. Tyler would never treat me the way you did. He would never treat me like I'm worth nothing more than a fuck. You expected to be able to treat me like shit, and then still have me waiting for your beck and call. Well newsflash Matthew; you may have destroyed me back then, but I healed myself. And Tyler has shown me what it's like to be loved. He's shown me what being with a real man is like"

"Hey bitch!" Everyone's head snap over to the hallway, where Hook is storming over with a look in his eyes that Y/N had never seen.

Hook snatches Matthew up by the collar with a dangerous look on his face before landing a vicious punch right on his jaw.

"Tyler!" Y/N exclaims as Danhausen immediately tries to pull him off of Matthew.

Y/N grabs his arm and pulls him towards her.

Hook let's her do so, but he doesn't stop glaring at Matthew. "You mess with my girl again and I'll knock your fucking teeth in"

And after that Hook lets Y/N drag him down the hallway.

Neither one of them say a word until they get to Hook's dressing room.

Hook wordlessly sits down on the couch, and furrows his eyebrows when Y/N lingers by the door and doesn't sit down next to him.

He holds his hand out, signaling for her to come over to him, but she doesn't.

"Get your cute little ass over here" Hook says with a little pout.

Y/N breaks out into a smile at that, and does as told.

When she gets close enough he grabs her hips and pulls her down to sit on his lap facing him.

Y/N wraps her arms around his torso and buries her head against the side of his neck. "I'm sorry"

"For what?" Hook asks, leaning back a little in an attempt to look at her. But she holds on tighter and doesn't let him. "For all that with Matthew"

"It wasn't your fault" Hook replies, but she can feel his body tense. "Who was he though?"

"He's an ex" Y/N answers.

Hook doesn't like the vague answer, and gently wraps his hands in her hair to pull her head up and makes eye contact with her. He didn't give a damn about some stupid little ex of Y/N's; he knew that Y/N only wanted him, just like he only wanted her. But he does care when that ex starts bothering her. "Has he been bothering you before today?"

Y/N shrinks under his gaze, but when she tries to look down he tightens the grip on her hair slightly. "I.. Only a couple times"

"Y/N" Hook chides. "These are the kinds of things you have to tell me"

"I know" Y/N says softly. "I just didn't want you to get in a fight with him or something"

Hook sighs, before pulling her to him and kissing her softly.

When they pull away Y/N lays her head on his chest as Hook runs his hand up and down her back, occasionally kissing her head and whispering sweet words to her.

That was a couple months ago, and Matthew had let up a bit.

He never approached her in person anymore; but he did message and call her.

Y/N knew she should tell Hook, but she was scared he'd snap and beat him up again.

It was a miracle that Matthew didn't report Hook the first time, and Y/N didn't want to risk Hook loosing his job over her.

So she just dealt with his abusive texts and voicemails, and did her best to not let it bother her.

But it obviously did, and Hook was beginning to pick up on it.

Like right now.

Y/N and Hook were snuggled up together on their hotel bed. Y/N was tucked into his side with her head on his chest, and Hook had his chin resting on top of her head while absentmindedly running his fingers up and down her back.

But then Y/N's phone started ringing.

Hook began to move to hand it to her, but she squeezed him tighter. "Don't move" she whined.

He laughs softly at her, and peers down at her with an adoring smile. "You're adorable babygirl, but it could be something important"

Y/N pouts, before turning to grab her phone.

Hook looked back at the tv, which was playing a rerun of Y/N's favorite show.

Hook had turned it on for her while she was getting ready for bed.

But his head snaps over to her when he hears a little sniffle escape her.

He pulls himself up to rest against the headboard, and gently places a hand on her back. "Talk to me mamas.. tell me what's going on so I can help you"

Y/N hesitates, and stares down at her phone. "I'm scared to"

Hook furrows his eyebrows at that. Why would she be scared to tell him something?

Hook places his hands on her waist and turns her to face him. She looks down at the bed, but he puts his finger under her chin and tilts her head up to look at him. "You can tell me anything Y/N. Anything. You know that"

"I know.." She mumbles. "It's not how it sounds. I just don't want you to get in trouble"

"Why would I get in trouble?" Hook asks.

"Because I think you may kill someone" Y/N answers with a soft smile.

Hook cracks a smile as well. "If they're bothering you, you may be right"

"Tyler" Y/N chides, lightly swatting his chest as they smile at each other.

"Ok, ok" he relents. "I at least won't kill anyone tonight"

Y/N takes a deep breath. "It's Matthew.."

Hook's eyes harden immediately, and he has to take a couple deep breaths of his own. "What about him?"

"Ever since you punched him, he hasn't come up to me in person. But he has been messaging and calling me" Y/N admits. "He always says the meanest things and it's just-" Y/N sniffles again, and Hook wipes away a stray tear with his thumb. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want to say anything to you because I was scared you'd attack him and get suspended or fired and I can't even imagine you being gone and I-"

Hook cuts her rambling off by placing his lips against her's.

Y/N immediately melts into him, placing her hands on his neck as her holds her face and their lips move in sync.

He pulls away after a few seconds and kisses her forehead before speaking. "I'm not happy you didn't tell me.. but I guess I understand why. I shouldn't have acted the way I did before. Maybe then you would have told me-"

Y/N places a finger against his lips, cutting his sentence short. "No. You know what? Neither one of us is gonna apologize. Did either of us handle the situation perfectly? No. But none of it is our fault's; it's his"

Hook smiles softly before nodding.

He pulls her body flush against his, and nuzzles his head in the crook of her neck. Y/N giggles as he starts leaving kisses there.

"I think he's just mad because he doesn't have the sexiest girl in the world to keep him warm at night anymore" Hook teases, and Y/N let's out a surprised squeal when he slaps her ass.

"Tyler!" She chides through giggly laughter, and he laughs along too.

The two spend the rest of the night too wrapped up in each other's presence to even remember Matthew's name.

A couple of peaceful weeks went by after that.

Matthew had called a couple times and sent a couple of messages, but Y/N just ignored them.

She told Hook every time, and he wanted nothing more than to track Matthew down and make it so he was terrified to even breathe in Y/N's direction.

But she begged him not to do anything rash, and he reluctantly agreed.

Hook kept true to that agreement for almost a month.

The two were at the arena, getting ready for that night's rampage. Y/N had gotten into the shower while Hook was putting on his ring gear and taping his fists.

"Ty!" Y/N called.

Hook immediately hopped up and walked into the bathroom. "Yeah mamas?"

She doesn't say anything, but she sticks her head around the shower curtain and pouts her lips.

Hook smirks, and walks over to place his lips against her's.

He reaches into the shower, before she giggles and closes the curtain. "You can't come in here! You're gonna get your tape wet! And your precious hair!"

Hook just chuckles. "You're the one who called me in here"

With that he walks back into the dressing room, but stops when Y/N's phone starts lighting up.

He grabs it, and starts to circle back to the bathroom to let her know she had gotten some messages, when he realizes who the messages are from.

Hook scoffs as he watches more and more messages from Matthew pop up on the screen, and with each one he feels his body heating up in anger.

But then a particular one delivers, and Hook tosses the phone down on the couch before storming out of the room with a rapid heartbeat, a clenched jaw, and clenched fists.

When Y/N gets out of the shower, she is greeted with an empty dressing room.

She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, but figures Hook just left to do something real quick.

She gets dressed and started on her makeup.

But right as she finishes putting on her lipgloss her door is swung open, and Ricky Starks comes rushing in.

"What the hell Ricky?! You scared the hell out of me!" Y/N exclaims.

"You gotta come with me" Ricky says, and grabs her arm to pull her out of the room.

"Where? What's wrong?" Y/N asks.

"Hook's beating the hell out of some random jobber" Ricky answers, and Y/N feels her stomach drop.

The closer they get Y/N can hear the fighting and yelling, and she pulls away from Ricky to just run towards the sounds quicker.

"Tyler!" She screams when she sees him holding a bloody and beaten Matthew up against the wall by his neck.

"Huh?! Come on! Threaten someone who will fight back you son of a bitch!" Hook screams, not even hearing Y/N over the blood pumping in his ears.

"Tyler!" Y/N yells again, and runs over.

Hook whips around when he feels someone trying to pull him off of Matthew, but his wild eyes soften when the see it was Y/N.

But she wasn't looking at him, she was watching with wide eyes as Matthew slid right down the wall as soon as Hook wasn't holding him anymore.

"What the hell Tyler?!" Y/N yells.

Hook just stares at the floor, chest heaving and sweat running down his body.

"Matthew swung first" Ricky speaks up from behind them. "Hook went up to him yelling and shit, but he never touched Matthew until after he punched Hook"

"I knew you wouldn't want me to.." Hook mumbles, nervously looking up from the floor to make eye contact with her.

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

"Why don't you two go to Tony's office and explain all that then" Y/N says shortly, watching as medics finally run over and start tending to Matthew. She felt guilty that she just couldn't bring herself to feel bad for him. But Ricky said that Matthew swung first, so whatever happened to him was his own fault.

Hook doesn't move though, and stares at Y/N like a lost puppy. "Are you mad at me?"

Y/N sighs, before wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He immediately responds, wrapping his arms tightly around her in return.

"I'm not happy you came out here looking for him, as I assume that's why you left the room"

Y/N looks up at him with a pointed look, and he looks at the wall to avoid eye contact. "But, if he swung first then I'm not mad at you for the fight"

"I had to. I couldn't let him say what he said to you, I'll always defend you" Hook says firmly.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asks with furrowed eyebrows.

"You didn't look at your phone?"

Y/N was sitting in her and Hook's shared hotel room while scrolling through all the messages Matthew sent that day.

And Y/N knew exactly which one must have set Hook off.

You don't wanna respond to me bitch? That's fine, because when Hook goes out for his match tonight I'm gonna find you and teach you to never ignore me again. And trust me, you'll never forget it.

Y/N didn't even want to think about what he had been planning to do before Hook found him; and she couldn't be anything but grateful to Hook.

She had heard that Matthew was in the hospital with broken bones and other injuries, and she wondered if that would have been her without Hook.

Matthew had never actually hit her during their relationship, but he came very close when she broke up with him.

But her thoughts are interrupted when the door swings open.

She jumps up and runs over to tightly hug Hook. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's all ok baby" Hook comforts, running his fingers through her hair. "There was a video of the whole thing so I'm not in any trouble"

"Thank God" Y/N breathes out. "And Matthew?"

"He's gonna be fired. You know, whenever he wakes up" Hook brags with a lopsided smirk.

Y/N laughs, and gets on her tiptoes to peck his lips. "I love you so much. And thank you, I can't help but think about what could have happened-"

Hook leans down to cut her off with a kiss, before pulling away and resting his forehead against her's. He lets his hands rest on her hips as he stares into her eyes. "You don't ever have to worry about someone hurting you. Not ever again. Not when I'm around, which will be forever"

Y/N smiles, and lets out a surprised laugh when he picks her up and carries her over to the bed.

She gets comfortable under the covers as he puts on pajamas.

He lays down next to her and she immediately nuzzles into his side.

Hook wraps an arm around her waist, and uses his free hand to draw random shapes on her exposed stomach.

Y/N sleepily smiles as she realizes he's writing out 'I love you' at one point. "I love you too"

#aew hook #hook x reader #send hook #aew hook x reader #tyler senerchia #hook imagine #aew fanfiction #aew x reader #hook aew #hook aew x reader

371 notes · View notes

kittyball23 · 5 months

Note

Could you make a fanfiction of when Poppy surprised Branch that she was expecting to have a baby? And they tell all their friends and family the news? How would Branch react? And how would their family and friends react to the news too? I always imagine that they're excited to become parents, and so do their loved ones!? Could you do that? I also love the idea that their little girl had blue eyes, like her father's, Branch, indigo hair, and I imagined she looked like her mother, Poppy.

Hi! I wanted to break this up into 2 parts, this first one will be the siblings’ reaction to the news - I think Branch’s deserves a separate oneshot (I can’t say when I’ll have it ready for, as I do have a couple other requests from my Inbox to fill, but I hope you enjoy!)

Taking the News (a Trolls fanfic)

“AAAIIIIIIIYYYYYYYAIIIII!!!!”

Viva’s excited scream burst through the air, the Putt Putt Queen leaping a good couple feet up in an uncontained joy. The energy only doubled once she landed, waving her hands wildly about and gushing while she paced about and spoke a mile a minute. “OMIGOSH, OMIGOSH, OMIGOSH, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” She zipped over to Poppy and gently patted at her belly.

“Hello in there! It’s your Auntie Viva! Oh, I just know you’re gonna be so itty, and bitty, and cutie-wootie just like your Mommy was! AND I’M SO EXCITED TO MEET YOU!”

The Pop Queen giggled at her sister. “Veevs, I’m only a couple months. I’m not even sure if they can hear you yet!”

Branch on the other hand differed on this viewpoint. “After that scream? Yeah, they probably did.” Viva grinned sheepishly when she noticed the blue Troll rub his ears.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Branch! It’s just that this is so, SO fantast-amazing!! Actually, it’s better than fantast-amazing! It’s fantast-AMAWESOME!” She squealed and bounced off to the side, expending her energy in one of the best ways she knew how - braiding! By the time her feet were back on the ground, it was Clay who was donning a brand-new French-braided hairstyle, topped off with little bows and glitter of all sorts of colors.

Clay groaned at how silly it looked. “Viva! Why me?” he whined.

Viva sprang to his side and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Because you need to stop being a serious-boy grumpy-poo and get loose! My sis is gonna be a mom!! And your brother’s gonna be a dad!!” She celebrated by grabbing Clay in a tight hug and twirling him around.

When he was released, the lime-green-Troll found himself taking her advice, forgetting all about his hair and grinning broadly at Branch.

“Congrats, bro! I’m real proud of ya!” He fist-bumped the bashful blue Troll. Branch readied himself to reply, when he suddenly heard a sniffle. It came as no surprise that the Troll who had burst into tears was none other than Floyd.

“Oh, Branch, this is such a special thing! I’m honored to be an uncle, and I’m so happy for you…” He trailed off, a sob taking place where words failed him. He easily wept into Branch’s shoulder when his younger bro pulled him in for a hug.

“Thanks. I’m pretty psyched, too,” Branch agreed, smiling as he pictured their child. What would they look like? Perhaps they’d have his dark, indigo hair and sparkling blue eyes. Or they could be all Poppy, in gorgeous appearance and stunning personality. Or maybe their kid would inherit King Peppy’s orange skin tone, or Grandma Rosiepuff’s teal button nose. Branch’s head spun with all of the possibilities, each and every one perfect and plausible, until the reality of the situation weighed down on him. Being a father was a big responsibility. A flicker of doubt seemed to flash across his face right at that moment, which did not go unnoticed by Bruce.

The purple-haired Troll approached him and patted a hand on his back. “Hey, man, I know it can seem kinda scary at first - I know I was a little nervous for my first kid - but trust me, it becomes a breeze. And when it’s not, just call me for help! I got your back, bro.” He winked at Branch, making him feel a lot better. Bruce, after all, was an experienced dad, having fathered 13 kids of his own - all of who would become cousins to the new bundle of joy entering into his life.

John Dory suddenly swept in alongside them. “And me, too!”

Branch and Bruce gave him a curious look. “Wait… John, you’re a dad?”

JD’s jaw dropped. “Uh, yeah! You forgot? Man!” He strolled over to his caterbus, Rhonda, and patted her side lovingly. “It’s okay, girly,” he cooed, “they didn’t mean to forget about you, darling. Who’s the cutest caterbussy in the whole wide world? Huh? You are!”

Rhonda trilled in appreciation at John Dory’s sappy words, while Branch exchanged a look with his other brothers. While he wanted to point out that taking care of a caterbus was not all the same as it was taking care of a little Trolling, Branch couldn’t help but feel his own bout of appreciativeness towards his bro’s offer to help. Feeling playful, he grabbed JD with one arm and noogied him with the other, the pair of them laughing by the end of it.

Poppy and Viva in the meantime were having their own share of sisterly love, hugging and shrieking, and jumping up and down over the elation of it all.

“Ohhh, I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Poppy cried. “I’m gonna tell Bridget, and Biggie, and Mr. Dinkles, and Guy Diamond, and Satin and Chenille, and - “

“And Dad!” Viva cut in with a grin.

Poppy squealed. “Oh, my gosh!”

She and Viva shouted at the same time at the top of their lungs: “DAD’S GONNA FREAK!” Both girls burst into a fit of giggles just picturing the look on the elderly king’s face once the news hit him full force.

Viva bounced up and down once again and wrangled Poppy and the boys together.

“Aw, come here, guys! Group hug!” Arms enveloped Poppy and Branch from all sides in a flurry of limbs, letting the two happy parents know that they - along with their new kiddo - were indeed loved very dearly.

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

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving!!

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #dreamworks #branch trolls #poppy trolls #viva trolls #brozone #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #fanfiction #kittyball writes #thanks for the ask!#kittyball answers #100+

172 notes · View notes

roosterbruiser · 7 months

Text

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 — 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟑

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐘, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘-𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟗.𝟓𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅-𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟑

The first time Jake Seresin sees you, it’s across a small and crowded room. Under the Bridge by The Red Hot Chili Peppers is thumping over the bulky speakers that are haphazardly strung all around the room with extension cords and duct tape. He hates this song. He doesn’t know it yet, but so do you.

You’d caught his eye because he spotted a familiar brick-colored button up. And, yes, as he’s looking at you now, he realizes he’s right. The breezy cargo shorts, the brown belt, the faded blue tank top--you’re dressed up as Dr. Ellie Sattler. He happens to be dressed up as Dr. Alan Grant, which means that the two of you--complete and utter strangers--are two halves of one whole costume.

But suddenly, as Jake looks at you, he doesn’t hear Anthony Keidis or hollow balls bouncing off plastic tables or booming laughter or sloshing liquid. He doesn’t hear anything. His ears are just ringing empty silence.

Bizarre, he thinks. His brain is never this quiet. He’s always thinking about drills or Intro to Anthropology or girls or Robert Zemeckis or home or dinner or something. Right now, it’s just you he’s thinking about.

You’re standing by yourself at one of the few punch bowls stationed around the house, each one a different highly unnatural color with seemingly random items skimming the surface. You’re pretty sure you saw flowers floating around one of them. Curiously, you’re looking down at this particular crystal bowl and the sad orange slices floating aimlessly in the peculiarly crimson punch. Half of the stuff is gone--Jake doesn’t know how anyone is stomaching it--and you are silently and unknowingly echoing his sentiment.

Bradley, who dragged Jake to this party in the first place--not that anyone ever has to drag Jake to a party--is standing beside him and is waiting his turn to play Beer Pong with an unruly group of men wearing togas.

“--The trick is to just, like, fake it ‘til you make it,” Bradley’s saying, casually leaning up against the dingy clapboard walls and sipping something vaguely Everclear-ish from his solo cup. “And what I mean by that is talk as much shit as you can. Nothing is off limits. Mothers, sisters, fathers--shit, especially fathers. People are so touchy these days. Like, I once told this guy that I got his sister preg--well, anyway. That’s besides the point. Just go into the game like you’re gonna win and you’re gonna win. You know? It’s simple science, really. I was thinking of writing my thesis on it.”

Jake, who is only half-listening as the silence fades out, hums. He doesn’t tear his eyes from your form. You’re cautiously ladling some of the punch into a chipped glass for your friend, who appeared suddenly beside you in an ill-fitting Red Riding Hood costume with glassy eyes and a broad grin, rubbing up against you like a hungry stray.

“Right,” Jake says absently. He can hardly hear anything over the music, especially Bradley’s incessant Beer Pong codes of conduct. He’s not gonna strain himself to hear what he’s already heard at a thousand frat parties before--and he’s certainly not going to turn his face away from you. “True.”

Bradley swallows all the sugary saliva coating his tongue and squints at the stained folding table holding the tense game beside them, wondering if the legs are gonna give. The center is already bowing. Whatever. Not his house--not his issue. He turns to Jake, who’s not looking at him or listening to him. Bradley’s known him long enough to know that by now. Jake not listening to Bradley rarely ever stops him from continuing a conversation, though.

“And what’s really interesting about all of this is that I can say whatever I want to you right now because you’re staring at…” Bradley makes a show of following Jake’s gaze across the crowded house, eyes flitting across a few forms before he finds yours. And, yes, he knows you’re definitely the one Jake is looking at. Dr. Ellie Sattler. “Oh. Looky there. It’s your better half. Your favorite part of your favorite movie! Isn’t that cute?”

“It’s not my favorite movie,” Jake snorts indignantly--like that means anything.

He’s still watching you--your friend teetered off and you’re against the wall again, alone and looking down at your hiking boots. They look used--there’s dirt on the heels and scuffs on the toes.

He wonders if you’re judging the cobwebs in the corners of the low ceilings and the bowing door frames like he is. You look like you are--your brows pinched, your nose slightly scrunched, your eyes shadowed by the soft curl of your lashes. You look like you don’t come to many parties like this. Parties with too many people, parties with no snacks, parties with boys from the baseball team, parties with kegs, parties with sticky floors. Neither does he.

“You dragged me to that movie, like, twenty times whenever it came out,” Bradley says, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean it isn’t your favorite movie?”

“What I mean is that Jurassic Park is a great movie, but it isn’t my favorite,” Jake says, mildly exasperated. He absently takes a sip of his drink and immediately wishes he hadn’t, face screwing up in disgust as the bright yellow punch oozes down his throat. He coughs softly and Bradley grins. “My favorite movie is Blue Velvet. Duh.”

Now Bradley is screwing his face up in disgust, pretending to gag.

“You’re so pretentious. It’s like you can’t even help it. I feel bad for you, man. Oh, look at me! I’m a film major and I just love movies that make no sense! I wanna make sweet love to Kyle MacLachlan! Notice me, David Lynch!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jake says, smiling softly. “I’m not pretentious!”

“My favorite movie is Basic Instinct,” Bradley says proudly. And just as Jake is groaning, finally giving Bradley his full attention so Bradley can feel every ounce of Jake’s judgment, Bradley holds his hands up in defense. “Hey! Not for that scene--well, yeah for that scene--but mainly because of the gore. It’s gnarly. Plus it’s, like, very easy to understand. Digestible.”

“You’re a simpleton,” Jake says. “Is pussy all you think about?”

“Through and through, brother!” Bradley confirms with a grin.

Bradley throws an arm around Jake’s shoulders, the cheap polyester of his striped Beetlejuice costume stretched to its absolute limit by his shapely biceps, and sighs happily. He looks out across the crowded room and finds your form--Jake follows his gaze.

For a moment, the both of them just look at you. You’re bored--that much they can tell. Eyes downcast, hangnail under the wrath of your picking fingertips, mouth a flat plane. You’re way too pretty to be this bored at a party.

“What do you think her favorite movie is, Oh-Wise-One?” Bradley asks. Jake elbows him hard and some of his drink sloshes onto the floor and his Nike’s. “Hey! Not the Carnivores, man! These are brand new!”

“I’m doing you a favor,” Jake snorts.

Bradley whines, rubbing his shoes with a frown.

Jake is still looking at you. You’re alone. You’ve been alone since he noticed you a few songs ago, not exactly giving off an anti-social vibe but certainly not going out of your way to make conversation with all the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Hulk Hogan’s around you. He wonders if you’re like him--if you came to this party because your friends dragged you here, if you would rather be in the comfort of your dorm watching slasher B-Movies.

“I haven’t seen her around campus,” Jake muses softly to Bradley, brows coming together. “Maybe she’s from out of town.”

The thought makes his gut twist in a half-knot. He really, really hopes you’re not from out of town.

Bradley shakes his head. The only time they get many out-of-towners is when there’s a football game and there isn’t another game until next weekend.

“Maybe she’s a freshman. Or a transfer,” Bradley continues. “Who knows! Not me. Certainly not you.”

“She’s really…” Jake says softly, brows pinching. He wants to kick himself for not being able to find the right word for what you are--but he doesn’t want to get it wrong. And his vocabulary dims in comparison to the way you make him feel by doing nothing but blink at the floor and wring your hands together. “Something.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Bradley coos, pinching Jake’s cheek.

“She’s, like--obviously she’s pretty,” Jake says. And he knows he’s being conservative with pretty. “But something else, too.”

“She looks…disinterested,” Bradley comments. “Like she doesn’t wanna be here.”

“I can change that,” Jake says with a deep breath. “You know. Show her a good time and all of that.”

“And you said all I think about is pussy? Man, you’re twisted!”

As if he’s offended, Jake faces Bradley. The tips of his ears are hot.

“Why did you assume I was going to show her a good time with my penis? I literally never even implied that. I never even hinted at applying to that.”

“What does and all of that mean to you then?” Bradley inquires, brows furrowed.

“You know,” Jake says, shrugging. He swallows and shakes his head. “Maybe I’ll dance with her or something. Girls like that. I’ll ask for her hand. Like a gentleman.”

“You’re so from Texas,” Bradley laughs. “Thinking you can square dance your way into everything. Can’t really do-si-do to the Chili Peppers.”

Jake frowns at Bradley.

“You’re a freak,” Jake says slowly. “Really. I mean it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a cornball,” Bradley complains. “C’mon, stop staring at her! Let’s just get ready for our turn!”

Jake’s already decided that he’s not going to be playing Beer Pong with Bradley.

“How do I walk up to her without creeping her out?”

Bradley blinks at Jake, who is chewing the inside of his cheek like he’s really trying to figure it out. Like it’s rocket science.

“What are you talking about? You’re wearing an Alan Grant costume. I don’t think you’re gonna creep her out. Genius.”

Jake shoots a look at Bradley--one that he’s seen just before a knuckle to the gut or a tap to the balls. Instinctively, Bradley takes a half-step away from Jake and bumps into one of the Toga Bros.

“I mean, like--how do I go up to her and not creep her out? What am I supposed to start with? Hey, I saw you were all alone so I decided to capitalize on that. Or should it be more along the lines of you’re dressed as my love interest and we should see if that transfers into real life? Smart-ass.”

Bradley laughs, shaking his head.

Jake gets into his head like this a lot. Like a lot more than anyone else realizes. Before games, before dates, before office hours, before parties. Jake is Bradley’s best friend--and has been since they were assigned roommates last year--and Bradley knows that Jake always comes out the other side unscathed no matter what his previous worries were. He’s never missed a field goal, he always gets the girl, all his professors grant extra credit, he’s always invited back to whatever frat they hit. This special weariness of Jake’s is reserved especially for Bradley--that is to say, no one else gets to see this side of him.

“Here,” Bradley says. He grins. “I’ve got an idea!”

And before Jake can inquire, Bradley’s slamming his fist into Jake’s cup. The neon liquid spews out and splatters all over the walls and floor--a few drops land on Jake’s shirt. He’s too shocked to speak for a second, staring at the puddle on the ground and the few people who turned to see the commotion.

Bradley’s beaming when Jake turns to him, leaning back against the clapboards coolly, looking like a fucking idiot with his half-assed Beetlejuice makeup on and frayed green wig he bought in the kid’s section at Family Dollar.

“You’re an idiot,” Jake says. He says this about fifteen times a day, give or take.

Bradley holds a hand over his heart and sighs warmly.

“You need a refill,” Bradley says, nodding towards you and the punch bowl. “Thank me later. Preferably with Gushers!”

Jake is just about to say something else when he realizes that Bradley’s right. He does need a refill. And you are standing by the closest of the nuclear punch bowls.

This is his in.

“I hate that I actually do wanna thank you right now,” Jake sighs. He mulls over his decision, straightening his hat and making sure his cup is all the way empty. He turns to Bradley, who’s smiling smugly already. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re about to dig up some dino bones,” Bradley says, giving Jake a thumbs up and a shit-eating grin.

Jake blinks at him.

“Fossils. You mean fossils,” Jake corrects. “Not just dino bones.”

Bradley shrugs and takes another drink somehow.

“You say caramel I say carmel, but we all bleed the same, don’t we?”

Jake doesn’t even respond. He just starts in your direction, his breath caught between his molars. He hopes that you don’t move before he can cross the tiny house, the sea of sweaty polyester clad bodies and latex-covered faces.

Across the little room, right where he wants you to be, you’re chewing the inside of your cheek pensively.

He really isn’t here, you think. He really didn’t come. You press the scuffed toe of your scuffed hiking boot against the sticky floorboards and pull back softly to feel the resistance. Gross.

You’re not sure what the worst part of all of this is. Maybe it’s the fact that your boyfriend, the one who actually likes gross little parties like this and the other half of your couple’s costume, hasn’t bothered to show his face tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that they won’t stop playing Red Hot Chili Peppers and Anthony Keidis is literally bursting your eardrums right now. Maybe it’s the fact that nothing here is drinkable.

This night would be a lot easier if you were loaded right now.

“Do you happen to know what flavor this is?” A man asks, Southern inflection licking the inside of your ears. “Trying to decide if I’m gonna partake in drinking the Koolaid.”

Without looking up, you shrug your shoulders. Probably just another wayward drunk who thinks you’re the host. It’s an insult to you that someone would think you would live in squalor like this--you would never let fist-sized holes litter your walls and you would certainly never let your floors get this sticky.

Jake clears his throat, so close to you now that he can smell the amber on your pulse points. He’s searching your face, wondering if you didn’t hear him, readjusting his hat while the party rages on all around the two of you.

He’s standing between you and the punch bowl now, empty cup pressed into his palm, facing you rather than the drink. You don’t look up at him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“I bet it’s watermelon,” Jake says a bit louder. “It’s always watermelon.”

He sees the recognition flood your features--the recognition that someone is talking to you--as you finally raise your head.

Up close, even in this shitty light, Jake sees that you’re something beyond pretty, something beyond beautiful. You’re something else that he’s never seen before--better than all the rest. His ears begin to hum.

It’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him--except that it isn’t. You take him in: his crinkled green eyes, his abrasively handsome smile, the little dimples on his cheeks, the scruffy edge of his jaw. No, you’ve seen him before. Scalding bleachers and roaring crowds and his face on the jumbotron after kicking a three-pointer.

This football player is talking to you.

Smiling in a polite and slightly stunned manner, you roll your shoulders back and wipe away all the crumbs of mopiness from your lap.

“Watermelon’s too high brow for this dump,” you say after a moment, swallowing softly. “I think I smelled cherry earlier.”

Your voice--he can only just make it out as the music plays, as the humming increases. But he can hear that it is sweet, that it is a vibration that makes his throat ache.

“You smelled it?” Jake asks, brow perched. “All the way from there?” He points to where you’re standing against the wall.

You’re only a foot or two away from the stained wooden table that’s holding the bowl. Nodding with your brow slightly furrowed, you push yourself off the wall.

“Cherry’s an assault to the senses. Couldn’t help but smell it,” you answer. Then you glance over your shoulder at the rest of the party, looking for your friends. “And my friends are too wasted to ladle their own drinks.”

“I hope they’re tipping you,” Jake says. “Well--unless you’re working on commission.”

A smile tugs on your lips.

“Doctors usually don’t work on commission,” you say softly. You look up at his hat and then down at his pants, placing his costume with a soft sort of smile. “Do they, Dr. Grant?”

He beams at you. Something in your chest grows tight--tight like you need to let all the air out of your lungs and into the space around you. You’re pretty sure that if you did that, the temperature here would rise a few degrees.

“It’s pretty accurate, isn’t it?” Jake asks, crossing his arms and jutting his hip out. “Don’t even ask me how long it took to find the hat.”

It took Jake two weeks to find the right hat. Two grueling weeks of dragging Bradley to strip malls and kiosks and thrift stores.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a lady,” you answer with a small smile. “I think yours is blowing mine out of the water, though. I just picked mine from what I had in the closet and then borrowed the rest.”

He shakes his head at once, brows furrowed.

“You kidding me? I recognized you from across the room!”

Oh, you think. He saw you from across the room already. And now he’s standing here, right in front of you with an empty cup and a desire for conversation.

Glancing around you quickly, you find that your friends are all still loitering around drunkenly and your other half is still not here.

“I don’t know--is it really that impressive?” You ask Jake, meeting his eyes again. “This place is the size of a pin-hole.”

Jake glances over at Bradley, who’s successfully started a game of Beer Pong. Already Jake can see the guys on the other side of the table burning from Bradley’s constant trash talking. Jake’s sure that idiot’s bright green wig is doing very little to dull the words falling on their ears.

“I don’t know, I was standing all the way over there by my roommate--Bargain Bin Beetlejuice,” Jake explains to you, jamming a thumb over his shoulder. You follow the direction of his finger, smiling. That isn’t that close to where you are now, but it certainly isn’t far. But you know how to take a compliment. “It’s not a skip, hop, and a jump, but it’s…”

“It’s a skip and half a hop?” You ask, brows raised.

Jake nods.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” he answers.

“Don’t freak out when I say this,” you say. “But you can’t be here when my boyfriend shows up. Your costume is gonna put my boyfriend’s to shame. We would seriously never be able to show our faces around here again.”

Jake’s chest is tight.

Boyfriend. Of course you have a boyfriend.

He glances around the room, searching for someone dressed like the Great Value version of himself. But it’s just an endless sea of Wayne and Garth’s and Urkel’s and Wednesday’s. No other Dr. Alan Grant in sight.

“He isn’t here now, is he?” Jake asks. He has the sudden urge to puff his chest out, to size him up.

Uncomfortably, you shift your weight and look at your shoes again. You hate it when Jeff bails on you like this. And you know that he couldn’t have forgotten--you reminded him this morning. You knew he was only half-listening. You always know.

“No,” you answer. He can hear the soreness in your tone as you glance around, too. “But he’s supposed to be.”

Fucking asshole, Jake thinks.

“He bailed on you?” He asks, lips pursed. “Wait a minute--you’re doing a couple’s costume with him and he hasn’t even bothered to show his face?”

“Yup,” you answer with a tight smile.

“No offense, but what an asshole,” Jake says. He crosses his arms. “Who does that to their girlfriend on Halloween?”

“Jeff Sabler, I guess,” you answer.

“Oh, you’re with Jeff Sabler? From the debate team?” He asks.

He’s stifling laughter, trying to bite a grin. You see right through him, though. Your face is warm with embarrassment as you bite a smile, too, and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, Johnny Football, I’m dating Jeff Sabler from the debate team,” you say. “Problem with that?”

“Me? Have a problem with Spit Sabler? Never,” Jake says with a grin.

You can’t help but laugh quietly at his nickname, even if it kind of makes you want to curl into a ball and wither away. Spit Sabler. It’s what people started calling him after his very first debate last year, when he got so worked up during policy discussion that spit literally flew from his mouth and onto the judge’s desk. He didn’t even say excuse me aftward.

“You know, he doesn’t even care that people call him that,” you say with a slight eye roll. You’re beginning to notice that Jeff doesn’t care about a lot of things--punctuality, nicknames, his grade in biochemistry, commitment to Halloween costumes. “Isn’t that silly? I’d just die if people around campus had a nickname for me.”

“Maybe they do and you just don’t know it,” Jake teases.

“Are you holding out on me?” You ask. You pause, swallowing and holding your hands on your hips. “Do you even know me?”

“Sure,” Jake says with an easy grin. He gestures to your costume. “You’re my best girl!”

“Ha-ha,” you say despite the way you suddenly want to rub your thighs together. His best girl. “I bet you haven’t given me a second look until you noticed that I was your missing piece.”

“I haven’t seen you around,” Jake admits. “You not into football?”

“I like to sit at the very top,” you tell him. “You know. Eagle-eye view. I like to see everything all at once. Especially now that we’re finally good.”

“You mean you actually go to watch the game? Not just to get beer spilled on you by Pi Kappa guys?” He asks, feigning surprise. Your smile is widening, eating your face. His belly turns itself inside out. “I’m shocked, really.”

“Not to blow you smoke or anything, but you’re a pretty good kicker,” you compliment. You hope that he can’t feel how warm your face is right now, but you’re sure he can--he’s so close to you that you can smell the shampoo in the blonde locks sticking out from beneath his hat. “You’ve never missed a three-pointer.”

He’s taken back right now. He knows that football is deeply ingrained in the culture here--he sometimes can’t help but feel like a big man on campus when his calc professor congratulates him on a good game or when upperclassmen clap his back in the student center--but it’s rare that he meets someone who pays very much attention at all. Now that he’s been established as good, people just assume he is. They don’t really watch.

“I’m impressed that you pay attention,” he says.

“Why? ‘Cause I’m a girl?” You ask, arms crossed.

You’re smiling still.

“Not ‘cause you’re a girl,” he answers. “‘Cause everyone goes to the football games to drink.”

“Well, I’m no Pi Kappa,” you say. “I’m a whole other thing.”

“I bet you are,” Jake says. “What’s your name?”

“Ellie,” you quip.

He grins at you.

Shit. You’re too easy to like. Way, way too easy.

Spit Sabler. What a load of shit.

“I’m Jake,” he says after a minute.

This whole year you’ve been calling him Seresin in your head--it’s what’s printed on the back of his jersey, what you see on the jumbotron when he kicks your team’s winning goal.

But Jake. Yes, that fits him. Aren’t all sandy-blonde, green-eyed boys named Jake, anyway? It’s so coastal, evokes images of tan skin and a freckled nose and bright smile.

“Well, it’s to know your actual name,” you say. “I’ve just been calling you Seresin.”

“I’m flattered you noticed me,” Jake says, beaming.

“Everyone does,” you say, shaking your head gently.

“No way,” he disagrees. “Not everyone.”

“Please,” you sass, brows furrowed. “Modesty didn’t get you to where you are now, did it?”

“Across the room?” Jake asks, brows raised. Your smile fades to one of flattery, your lashes batting against your cheeks like you’re trying to blink yourself back into reality. “No. I’d say what got me across the room was curiosity.”

“I thought it was thirst,” you say softly, nodding to the punch bowl.

Jake looks back at the bowl, arms crossed over his chest. Right. Nuclear waste.

“That was all a ruse,” he says. “You can’t believe a word I say.”

“I’m learning so much about you,” you say with a fond smile. “Your name, your tendency to lie, how easily impressed you are.”

Jake almost guffaws trying to keep up with you.

“That’s pretty much all there is to me,” Jake says. “I’m surface-level.”

“Right,” you laugh. You gesture to his costume. “Jurassic Park is a pretty surface-level movie.”

“What, you don’t like it?” Jake asks, borderline stunned.

“Of course I like Jurassic Park. I’m only human,” you answer quickly. “But--you know. Everyone likes it. It’s easy to like. Easy to understand. Even the themes that they try to make harder to understand.”

“Like what?”

“The ethics of creating life inside a lab in tubes and incubators,” you answer. “Playing God.”

“I guarantee you that I could introduce you to someone who genuinely thought the entire movie was just about running from dinosaurs,” Jake tells you, a grin tugging on his lips. “Not everyone is as smart as you. Well--us.”

“Us,” you echo, a laugh bubbling up from the tips of your toes and spilling out into the air around you. It’s swallowed by the crowd before Jake can digest it. “Kind of weird that we’re wearing matching costumes, right?”

“Divine intervention,” Jake says, brow perched.

“We don’t even know each other,” you say, smiling. “That’s crazy.”

Beaming, Jake nods.

“You think people are gonna think I’m your boyfriend?” He asks slyly, leaning on the punch table carefully. “Just ‘cause I actually bothered to show up. And the whole costume thing.”

“I don’t know,” you say, shoulders falling back. Your spine prickles with excitement--the excitement of being looked at by him. “Should we ask someone?”

He’s watching you with a slight smile clinging to his pink lips. Inside his gaze, you feel like you’re alone at the party with just him. No more sticky floors and no more drunk friends and no more shitty boyfriend. Just you and him shooting the shit. You can’t do this with Jeff--everything always ends in a fight and in classic debater style, he rarely lets things go.

As if he’s trying to call your bluff, Jake looks around for someone to tap. He’s waiting for you to stop him, for you to burst out that you were just joking, to grab his arm before he can get someone’s attention.

But you don’t stop him. There is no bluff to be called.

So, he taps on the nearest Urkel’s shoulder. He turns around, glasses askew.

“What’s up, brother?” Urkel asks Jake when he recognizes him. “How you doing, Trip?”

Trip. It’s short for Triple.

“Just great,” Jake answers. He half-steps so he’s closer to you, close enough that your arms are touching. And he’s surprised when you lean into him, totally feeding into the bit. “Uh--do we look like we came together?”

“That’s not the question,” you whisper to Jake, nudging him with your elbow before you lean forward to speak to Urkel. “The question is--does he look like my boyfriend?”

Urkel turns to give the both of you his full attention as you step beside Jake again, leaning against his arm. He regards your bright eyes and Jake’s solid grin, the way your arms are pressed together, the matching costumes.

“Is this your way of introducing me to your lady or something?” Urkel asks Jake.

“So, we do look like boyfriend-girlfriend?” Jake clarifies.

Urkel’s brows come together.

“Aren’t you?”

“Total strangers, actually,” you sigh, shrugging. Jake smiles at you, watching as your brows pull together and your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “For all I know, this guy could be a serial killer.”

“It’s true, I could,” Jake sighs in confirmation. “And for all I know, she could be a total stalker.”

“What?” Urkel asks. “What are you--?”

You nod, sucking the back of your teeth.

“Right, right,” you answer. “You never can tell these days. People are so insane.”

“Preach,” Jake sighs.

“I’m too drunk for this, Trip,” Urkel says finally, rubbing his temples. “Hit my line when you two really are boyfriend-girlfriend, alright?”

And with that, you and Jake are in your own little bubble again. Heat has pooled in your belly and your fingertips are buzzing and your ears are hot with embarrassment and excitement.

It’s exhilarating, you realize. The way you feel right now with Jake, who you really only just met, tapping inebriated strangers on the shoulder and pretending like you weren’t bored out of your mind and stood up only a little bit ago. Indulging parts of yourself you can’t whenever you’re with Jeff.

“That settles it, then,” Jake sighs coolly, shrugging. “Spit Sabler’s in for a rude awakening.”

“Yeah, when he shows up,” you say, scoffing.

“If he shows up,” Jake corrects, wrinkling his nose.

“I can’t believe I got stood up,” you say to him. Except it isn’t bitterness in your tone that he hears--it’s a strange, disconnected relief. Like you were waiting for Spit to do something to warrant this fracture. “Me. Stood up. By my boyfriend.”

“He must not be from the south,” Jake sighs with a shrug. “Boys from the south would never stand their lady up.”

“Oh, really?” You ask. Your stomach is tied in excited, tight knots. “And you’re speaking from experience, right?”

“Totally,” Jake confirms. “Texas. Born and bred.”

“You southern gentlemen sure do like telling people you’re southern gentlemen,” you tease. “Gotta work it into every conversation, huh?”

“You sound like my roommate,” Jake grins, shaking his head.

Looking over at Bargain Bin Beetlejuice again, you find him holding his hands up in defense with a grin eating his face. A man in a toga is being held back by a few other men from wiping said-grin off his face.

“I was gonna say that your roommate sounds like a smart guy, but looks like he’s over there picking fights with Sigma Alpha Toga,” you say, tutting. “Not the best move.”

Jake groans when he sees Bradley throw his head back in laughter, when he sees how red in the face his toga opponent is. He’s always pushing people to their absolute limit. It’s what makes him such a good lineman--and a regular target.

“And on Halloween of all holy nights,” Jake says, sighing.

“Some people are just so classless,” you agree.

“Like guys who ditch their girlfriends on Halloween,” Jake agrees.

“How many times you gonna bring that up?” You ask, biting your lip.

“I’m going for the record,” Jake teases.

“The least you could do is soften the blow,” you tell him.

“How can I do that?” Jake asks. He’s grinning.

“You could…” You pretend to think, tapping your chin and chewing the inside of your cheek. “Well, you could least keep up appearances.”

“What, like, be a good fake boyfriend?” He asks, brow perched.

You nod. He’s elated right now, trying to bide his excitement so he doesn’t freak you out totally and completely.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Well, I can’t just be good,” Jake tells you smugly. “I’ve gotta be the best fake boyfriend.”

“You’ve really talked yourself up,” you tell him, sucking the back of your teeth. The soles of your feet are warm, the palms of your hand sweatied. “Blow me away.”

Jake opens his mouth to say something dumb and flirtatious, something that will surely make you push his shoulder, but he’s interrupted when the music suddenly changes. Dreams by The Cranberries is playing suddenly, a smidgen louder than the music before was.

“Now that they’re finally playing good music,” Jake calls over the music, pointing in the general direction of one of the speakers. “Will you dance with me?”

No one has ever asked you to dance before this precise moment. Never at any shitty homecomings or slapstick proms. Before, at every other frat and house party Jeff dragged you to, no one danced like you thought they might. Parties aren’t for dancing anymore--they’re for drinking. The romantic in you dies a little bit each time you remember that.

But here is this guy standing right in front of you, the big man on campus who’s dressed up in a weirdly accurate Alan Grant costume, holding his hand out to you and asking you to dance to The Cranberries. The Cranberries.

“There’s nowhere to dance,” you say before you can help it, glancing around the room. It’s packed wall-to-wall. No one is dancing and everybody is drunk.

“Would you go outside with me if I asked?” Jake asks.

His heart is pounding in his throat.

“I don’t know,” you say. But you do know. “Ask.”

“Will you go outside with me?” Jake asks.

“Yes,” you say. “Yeah. I’ll go.”

Yeah. I’ll go. Jake is going to think about the way you looked when you said these words to him for the rest of his life. You, the girl who was standing here looking bored and waiting on Spit motherfucking Sabler, are looking up at him with glassy eyes and a broad grin and saying yeah. I’ll go.

Jake doesn’t waste a moment, nodding towards the backdoor.

“C’mon,” he says with a grin. “I don’t wanna miss this song.”

Outside, it’s much cooler than inside the stuffy house. The air is crisp and fresh and fragrant with the lonely apple tree that sits just beside the house. No more overpowering stenches like sweat or cheap fabric or overfilled trash.

And now that you’re outside in the mostly-dark, only the naked porch bulb lighting the little patch of overgrown concrete you’re standing on, you feel like you can take a deep breath and let your shoulders fall.

“It’s nice out here,” you admit.

“And you can still hear the music,” Jake points out. “Speaking of…”

You turn around, glance at him over your shoulder. And there’s Jake beaming at you, hand outstretched towards you in an open invitation.

“You were serious?” You ask, nose wrinkled. “I thought boys just said that to impress girls.”

“Not Texas boys,” he answers. “C’mon. Dance with me.”

And who would you be if you said no to this almost perfect stranger?

Swallowing thickly, you smile at him. It’s an unsure smile, one that is usually accompanied by a warm face and downcast eyes. But you’re not looking away from him and Jake definitely isn’t looking away from you.

His hand is warm, bigger than yours. The skin is rough, probably from tossing the pigskin, and his grip is secure. He holds your hand the way he holds other important things--delicate glasses, his favorite pen, a photograph of him and his mama.

You stand there, his hand holding yours, for a moment. Not sure what to do next, unclear where you’re supposed to step or if you’re supposed to come closer.

“C’mere now,” Jake says softly. It’s less of a command and more of a guidance as he gently pulls you closer to him. “There you go.”

Shakily, a breath falls from your mouth. A cloud of tongue-scented vapor settles on Jake’s chest. He’s looking down at you, his face all shadows and shine, as he begins to bring his other hand up to hold your waist.

“Can I hold your waist?” He asks. He almost makes a joke--almost adds something to make his questions sound less serious. Strictly for appearances. But then he just looks down at you looking up at him, reads the slope of your brows and the part of your lips, and leaves it at that.

“Is that what comes next?” You ask, really meaning it.

He pulls his brows together, confused.

“What--no one’s ever asked you to dance before?”

“No,” you answer seriously. “I mean--well, yeah. No.”

He just softly shakes his head. How in the world has no one ever asked you to dance before? He wanted to dance with you before he even knew you and he wants to dance with you now that he barely knows you.

“What?” You ask, brows knit. Your throat is caked in nerves. “You think something’s wrong with me now?”

“I’m thinking I oughta skin Spit Sabler and hang his bones to dry,” Jake admits. “And I don’t think anything’s wrong with you.”

You step closer to him, the pavement cracked beneath the soles of your boots, and your chest is close enough to his to feel the softness of his shirt when you inhale. He smells like sandalwood and Everclear and you’re just now noticing that his hands are a little sticky from his drink.

“Is there something wrong with you?” You ask, looking up at him. “You didn’t bring a date to the party.”

“Who do you think Beetlejuice is?”

The laughter flows easily.

“Excuse me for supposing.” You smile.

“Excused,” Jake breathes.

Jake is holding your waist now--he can feel the soft curve there, the way the fabric melts into his hand like it’s been waiting for his heat. And whenever you take a deep breath, your chest touches his.

Besides the music, there are crickets chirping in the button bushes and frogs distantly singing in a too-big puddle just down the road. It is a perfect night--the stars stretch across the sky, brighter than they are in the middle of town, and the moon is white as silk.

You’re spinning in a semi-slow circle, your smile still coy and your palms still clammy. But you’re happy--you think that you’re happy. A stone of excitement just sits heavy in your gut, warm and unmoving. This is the feeling you have whenever you meet someone that you know is going to be important in some way someday.

Inside the house, Bradley’s noticed that Jake is gone--and so is the pretty girl he was talking to. He glances around, biting his lip, the taste of cheap lipstick bitter on his tongue. And then he spots movement outside the west-facing windows.

“No way,” he whispers, shoving his way across the room and closer to the windows. He squints, cups his eyes, and immediately recognizes that damn hat. “He did it. Crazy son of a bitch did it.”

“Who?” Someone near Bradley asks. They’re bleary-eyed as they look at Bradley, leaning closer to him. “Who did what?”

“Me,” Bradley answers with a grin. “I did your mother.”

“I like The Cranberries,” you say quietly. “I listen to this CD all the time.”

“Not a Red Hot Chili Peppers girl?” He asks.

Laughing, you shake your head.

“Do I look like one?” You ask.

“Do I look like I think you’re one?” He retorts.

Another grin--Jake’s throat is so tight that he can hardly swallow.

“Too many degrees of separation,” you whisper to him. “You’re giving me a complex.”

He takes a deep breath--of you, of the crisp autumn air, of the dew on the grass, of the sugary juice staining his hands.

“Why you with a guy who stands you up?” He asks. You’re slowly spinning in a circle still and the world blurs behind your pretty head. “I barely know you, but I know I’d never bail on you.”

“Well, not everyone’s from Texas,” you answer. The heartbeat in your chest is stuttering as Jake looks at you--your eyes, your nose, your lips. “We’re not…serious or anything.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to tell Jake this--and why it doesn’t make you feel guilty when you realize that you’re telling him so he knows that your options are open.

“Not serious?” He asks. “How long have you been seeing each other?”

A few months.

“Since August.” It sounds like more time than it really is.

“Not long at all,” he says. “How’d he hook you? Did he debate you into a date?”

The grin tugging on your lips is so insistent.

“You’re kind of an ass,” you say affectionately.

“But I’m a good dancer,” he says--beaming. “Don’t you think I’m a good dancer?”

“Fishing for compliments,” you tut. “Flattery must be your love language.”

“What’s your love language?”

Cheeks hot, you just shake your head.

Christ, he’s good. Too good. Way too good.

“You ask so many questions,” you tell him, breathing out hard. You’re beaming at him still. “Too curious for your own good.”

“And I’m not even a journalism major,” he tells you.

“You’re missing your calling then,” you say softly. “What is your major?”

“Film,” he says.

That strikes you as funny for some reason--a football player film major with an affinity for dream pop and Jurassic Park.

“Aren’t you a mystery,” you ponder aloud. “Johnny Football Hitchcock.”

“And what’s your major? Looking bored at parties?”

You mock offense, holding a hand over your heart. When you’re this close to him and he beams, you can see every single one of his pearlescent white teeth, each one more perfect than the last.

“I didn’t look bored,” you defend half-heartedly.

“You looked so bored,” Jake says, laughing. “I thought you were gonna pass out before I even made it over to you.”

The back door opens--a few drunk people stumble out, saying nothing but laughing all the same.

Instinctively, you begin to pull away from Jake. But he tightens his grip on your waist, on your hand, and keeps you close to him. He keeps spinning the both of you in slow circles as the song floats on.

“It’s okay,” Jake says softly to you--like he knows that your face is warm with almost-embarrassment, like he knows that you’re nervous to be this close to him in front of anyone else. “They’re not gonna remember shit tomorrow.”

“Are you?” You ask, teasing.

It’s vulnerable to ask--ther’es a sweetness in your quiet tone. You’re asking him if he’s drunk, if he’ll remember crossing the party to talk to you, if he’ll remember asking you to dance with you.

“I’m stone-cold sober,” Jake says. “Fortunately.”

It’s strange whenever someone doesn’t let you down. You’re almosot used to putting up defenses at this point, almost always ready to roll your eyes and say God, never mind. You’re a smart girl. You know that this isn’t the way you should feel about the boy you’re seeing. And you are smart enough to see a good thing when it’s standing right in front of you, holding knot your waist and dancing with you.

“Oh, shit--!”

You turn towards the sounds of shoes scuffing on pavements, the sudden outburst. Jake does, too, brows furrowed. He sees it before you do--is getting ready to lift you up and push you further into the yard.

But he’s too late.

Alpha Beta Toga is bent at the hips and spewing neon-green puke all down your legs and into the pockets of your cargo shorts and all over your hiking boots.

Still, Jake tugs you away, plants himself between you and Toga. It’s too late, though--he’s being tugged away by his friends, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hiccupping. And you’re standing beside him, stunned, staring down at your slimy legs.

“Hey!” Jake bellows, brows furrowed. The frat boys pause, eyes bleary as they stare back at him. “Apologize.”

“Sorry,” one of them says to Jake, belching.

They start to move inside the house again, a blur of white sheet and skin.

“No, no, no,” Jake insists. “To her.”

You blink in surprise, swallowing the lump growing in your throat, not knowing what to do except stand there and freeze with putrid vomit running down your legs.

“I didn’t puke on her!” One of them defends.

“I didn’t ask, dipshit,” Jake says. “Someone’s gonna say sorry before you go back inside.”

“It’s fine,” you whisper, unbuttoning your shirt and slipping out of it to wipe down your legs. “It’s really fine. He’s drunk, it was an accident--!”

“I’m sorry,” one of the boys interrupts you, glancing over at you nervously. “We should’ve pulled ‘im back.”

“You should’ve,” Jake confirms.

And then his attention is back on you. He’s kneeling before you, grabbing the shirt from your hands and mopping up as much vomit as he can on your legs. Still shocked and now prickled with cold as you bend at the hips and look down at him, you frown.

“Is it--oh my God. Is it chunky?” You whisper, feeling sick.

Jake dutifully holds onto your thigh as he continues to mop it up. God, it smells bad--he dipped into more than one of the punches.

“Don’t look,” Jake commands, brows pulled together. “Just look up at the stars and it’ll be over soon.”

“It’s fucking chunky,” you say to yourself, looking up at the night sky anyway. Cold air nips your bare shoulders, tucks itself between the skin of your belly and your tank top. “Did he eat the shit that was floating in the bowls? I don’t think it was edible.”

In the dim light, Jake examines one of the chunks. It’s a clump of green-tinted yellow, half-digested and crumbling in the grip of the shirt. His stomach turns, but he swallows hard, comes a little closer.

Oh. He snorts softly and you groan above him.

“What is it?” You ask. “Oh, God--is it, like, pineapple chunks?”

“It’s a flower,” Jake says.

“What?” You demand, looking down at him. “A flower?”

He finishes up mopping your legs as you look anywhere but your legs, your jaw beginning to tremble from the cold.

“Was this all some elaborate way to get me flowers?”

His laugh echoes into the night.

“Would you be impressed?” He asks.

“Kinda,” you answer honestly.

“Then yes,” he grins. “I think I got most of it, by the way. Do you wanna see the flower?”

Looking down, frowning, he holds his open palm up to you. And yes, there it is--a marigold submerged in stomach acid.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you breathe out. “How’d you know marigolds are my favorite?”

“I’m just good like that,” he says. “Marigolds, huh? Are they even edible?”

“Anything’s edible if you put it in your mouth.”

He’s grinning up at you, pulse still thumping in his wrists from the past ten minutes. And that’s when he notices that you’re just standing there in a tank top, skin goosed from the cold.

“Here,” he says, standing up.

He unbuttons his shirt quickly and drapes it over your shoulders before you can tell him not to. He grabs the corner of your soiled shirt and nods for you to start for the house.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you whisper.

“I can,” he says. “I’ve been to, like, two parties where no one’s projectiled on someone else.”

Cringing, you shake your head. His shirt is warm--it smells like sandalwood. The denim is thick and soft, like it’s been worn before tonight.

“Thanks for mopping me up,” you tell him as you open the back door for him. The sound is immediate--the thumping speakers, the drunk hollers. “How can I repay you?”

“Dump Spit Sabler,” Jake says. You turn, mouth ajar, looking prettier than you should in his shirt. His chest is tight. “It’s for your own good.”

“My good?” You whisper. “Or…yours?”

He swallows hard. You two just watch each other, the scent of puke thick in the air and the party too loud and the outside too cold. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Can I drive you home?” His voice is flat and serene.

Calm like he already knows your answer because he does.

“Yes,” you whisper because you want to stay here, in his gaze, for as long as he’ll let you. “Can we go now?”

He pulls the keys from his pocket and smiles at you.

Bradley isn’t buckled so he can lean forward in the middle seat and prop his elbows up on the center consol, looking at you and Jake as the world slips past you in a blur of over-exposed white and green.

“Spit Sabler?” Bradley says again, still shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re laughing, shaking your head, too. Jake groans.

“Man, can you shut up already?”

“No,” Bradley says. He looks at you and you look at him--his makeup is melting off his face and his green wig is askew. But even now, you can see that there is a handsome man with a broad smile somewhere beneath it all. “You--you--are with Spit? Spit Sabler?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “I was.”

Jake doesn’t miss it--was. But he doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes on the old country road you’re all driving down.

“Why?” Bradley asks. “Like, I just can’t wrap my mind around it.”

“Can you leave her alone?” Jake moans. He fiddles with the radio until a Cocteau Twins song comes on, shaking his head. “She already got puked on and now you won’t get off her head.”

“I just have to know!” Bradley insists. “Like, was it…okay, I’m gonna ask. I have to ask.”

Jake looks at Bradley in the rear-view mirror hard, knowing already what he’s going to ask. He points at Bradley’s reflection and Bradley grins back, still a little drunk and quiite stupid.

“What?” You ask, genuinely confused. “What were you gonna ask?”

“Don’t do it,” Jake warns. “Man, you don’t even know her! You’re making me look like I have perv friends!”

“I have to!” Bradley argues. “I have to!”

“Oh,” you say, realizing suddenly. You lean back in your seat and look back at Bradley. “You’re gonna ask me if he has a big dick.”

“Exactly!” Bradley moans. He grabs your shoulders excitedly and squeezes you good-naturedly. “She’s on our level, Jakey!”

“I’m sorry about him,” Jake says, shaking his head. “He was dropped as a baby. Frequently.”

“Twice,” Bradley corrects. He nudges you and you grin at him. “Was it big?” He whispers.

Shaking your head, face warm, you frown.

“Not big enough,” you whisper.

Bradley explodes in the backseat, in stitches as he holds your shoulders tight. And Jake can’t help but crack a smile at the sound--Bradley’s laugh is infectious. And you’re laughing, too.

“Oh, that’s too good!” Bradley’s cheering. “Oh, my God! You just made my night!”

“You’re welcome,” you say, grinning.

“Did he just, like, talk at you until you were confused enough to be in a relationship with him?” Bradley asks.

“She’s not an idiot,” Jake defends, smacking blindly in Bradley’s direction.

Bradley bats his hands away.

“We all have our moments!” Bradley argues. “I didn’t say she’s an idiot.”

“He’s the idiot,” Jake says.

“Yeah,” Bradley agrees. “No arguing there.”

“For the record,” you say to them. “He did kind of talk me into it. One minute we’re in class, the next we’re at coffee and he’s burning his tongue on an Americano. Then his puka shells were on my nightstand. It’s all a blur.”

The car ride continues like this--you grow warm between the heater and Bradley’s laughter and Jake’s fond embarrassment. You learn that Bradley is a business major and that he and Jake are roommate’s and best friends. They learn that you actually really do love marigolds and that you’ve been thinking about ending things with Jeff for a few weeks now--ever since he argued with you about the right way to cut bagels for over an hour.

And by the time they pull up in front of your dorm, they realize that their dorm is just a skip and half a hop away.

“We can come visit you anytime,” Bradley says with a grin. “We’re neighbors!”

“Looks like it,” you say.

Jake is watching you, wishing Bradley would leave. You reach for the handle and his palms grow damp with sweat. It’s quiet in the car.

“I can take a hint,” Bradley whispers. “Use protection!”

He kisses Jake’s head and squeezes your shoulder and then he’s gone.

Then it’s just you and Jake again. Jake is still grumbling about Bradley, wiping the spit and paint off his head. And you’re just smiling at Jake, totally at peace to just sit in the passenger seat of his old truck and let Halloween drift away.

“Thanks for everything,” you say. You swallow hard when his eyes meet yours, when his brows come together. “For, like, saving me from total social humiliation. And for cleaning puke off my legs. And--this.” You pinch the denim shirt in your fingers. “You’re very sweet.”

“It ain’t much, but it’s honest work,” Jake sighs. And really, he wants to tell you that it was his pleasure because it was. He wants to tell you that somehow this has been the best Halloween of his life. “You’ve got yourself a nickname now.”

“What is it?” You whisper.

“Goldie,” he grins.

Ah. Marigold.

“Deceivingly sweet,” you say fondly. Your chin wobbles. “You playing next week, Trip?” You whisper.

You’re itching for a shower--you know you need to get out of his car. You know that this night needs to end. But you can’t help yourself from lingering.

“Starting,” he says. “Not to brag.”

“And yet you manage to,” you tease. “Look for me at the top, okay?”

Eagle-eye.

“And if I said I could get you tickets closer to the field, what would you say?” He ponders. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Well, I’d say that’s very sweet and that you don’t have to do that,” you tell him.

He nods, chewing on his bottom lip. He imagines you there, holding onto the railing, skin goosed as you watch him do what he does best. His chest is wound tight with joy, excitement.

“And then I’d probably say that I know I don’t have to,” he continues. “I want to.”

Nodding, biting a grin, you hum.

“Well,” you whisper. “Maybe we can talk more about it when I drop your shirt off tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Jake says. “We can talk more about it. Maybe over, like, coffee.”

“Yeah,” you answer. “Coffee would be good. No Americano’s, though.”

Another beat. It’s quiet except for the humming radio, the wind whispering outside the windows, the heat blowing on your legs.

“Goodnight, Goldie,” Jake whispers.

Throat tight, you nod. Another grin.

“Goodnight, Trip,” you say.

And as you get out of the car and start for the dorm building, Jake sits and watches you walk all the way to the door. You turn, hand on the heavy handle, and smile when you see him. He waves, his hair soft and his eyes unmoving from your form. Spit never waits for you. In the light of the streetlamp, of the pocket lights of the building, you look like a dream. Like you’re surrounded by a yellow haze.

You wave--so does he.

And then you walk into the building with your heart in your throat, with the soles of your feet on fire. You don’t even care that there’s puke on your legs, that you have an uncomfortable phone call to make, that you have to walk all the way up to the third floor.

You’re floating, really. Floating through pink clouds perfumed with sandalwood, tinged with warmth.

And when Jake gets back into his room, Bradley is waiting for him. He’s on his twin bed, still in his costume and wig and makeup, a management textbook cracked open on his lap as he munches on some crackers and reads in the lamplight.

“I like her,” Bradley says as soon as Jake closes the door. “I really, really like her man.”

“Me too,” Jake admits softly as he toes his boots off. “She’s sweet.”

“She’s funny,” Bradley adds. “She had me in stitches in the car!”

“If I’d have been puked on, it would’ve ruined my week. Shit, it would’ve ruined my year,” Jake muses. He pulls his bandana off and throws it in his closet without looking. “She’s a good sport.”

“You better lock that down,” Bradley says, shaking his head. He scratches his chin and bits of white paint flake off.

“Someone else already has,” Jake says, brows furrowed.

He sits on his own bed and looks at Bradley, who’s yawning and rubbing his eyes. Smearing his makeup.

“Spit doesn’t stand a chance,” Bradley says. “I’ll bet she’s dumping his sorry ass right now.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: SLAYYYYYY I LOVE BRADLEY IN THIS UNIVERSE HE IS SOOOOO STUPID

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

@thedroneranger

@fandom-life-12

@avaleineandafryingpan

@popsycles

@guacala

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@oliviah-25

@zalmael

@chicomonks

@aboutelijahhh

@angelbabyange

@zbeez-outlet

@dempy

@awkwardgiraffe726

@awesomebooklover17

@ofxinnocence

@nyx2021

@callsign-joyride

@flashyourgreeneyesatme

@one-sweet-gubler

@olliepig

@beyondthesefourwalls

@cherrycola27

@hangmans-wingman

@malindacath

@thenewdaysalreadyhere

@shehulkracing

@vemonbby

@ohemgeewhat

@emi-flaces

@mishala005

@headinthecloudssblog

@anony1080

@bellaireland1981

@djs8891

@xoxabs88xox

@stiles-banshees

@birdy-bat-writes

@bananas1234

@shotgunhallelujah

@pono-pura-vida

@agentminnesota187

@onethirstyunicorn

@furiousladyking

@fandomxpreferences

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@rintheemolion

@daggerspare-standingby

@harper1666

@princess76179

@roosters-girl

@jstarr86

@blahblechblah

@aemondssiut

320 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 1 year

Text

Before reading: R18, Mature Content Warning, Yandere Warning

“Welcome to prison, ya filthy criminal.”

The guard’s words were like cold slaps in your face. There was no kindness or even just a speck of respect in them. They were echoed by a vast variety of sounds circling around you the moment you stepped through the last gate to the outside and into the complex. From laughter to screams to moans—everything haunted these stinking walls. “Move it,” the guard grunted at you, shoving you forward after your feet had stopped halfway in the doorway, the harsh feeling of an elbow to your spine only adding to your discomfort.

This had not been the plan, said every prisoner ever.

“Fresh meat, boys!” the guard hollered behind you as they ushered you forward, baton slapping into the palm of their hand before coming down on the cell bars on your side. An awful quietness spread as you felt a million eyes turn to you, from above, the cells beside you and right in your path. And then, chaos descended.

If you were disgusted by the sounds before, then the rattling of bars, obscenities screamed at you (ranging from invitations to warm beds to threats of suffocating you with a pillow at night), and the delighted ogling at a change in the current boring routine of the prisoners, made you want to throw up. No one came to your rescue when hands reached out, grabbing you by the orange jersey you were put into, yanking you to the one side, and jerking you to the next. Laughter underlined everything as they saw your grimace, disgust, discomfort, and panic hidden behind your best poker face. But there was only so much you could endure before your mask began to crack.

“Come to my cell! I’ll give you the ride of your life.” “Why don’t you come over here, baby? I got some knives to show you.” “You’d look even better with my hands around your throat.” “Want someone to treat you to the real prison experience?” “Betcha fifty bucks they aren’t gonna survive.” “I give them a week.” “I give them one day.” “Deal.”

“My god, move!”

Tearing you out of the overwhelmed state of mind after being bombarded by the voices, the guard brought their baton down to your back, striking across it once and making you lose balance. With an ungraceful, embarrassing uff being punched out of your lungs, you fell to your knees, the items you were holding splaying out on the floor. Roaring laughter insulted your fall while you scrambled to collect your things, the guard groaning behind you in annoyance.

“How did someone like you even make it into prison?” they asked as you got to your feet again, letting your head hang low. Already, you had lost the pride you had come here with, wanting to keep your head held high and get through this without causing a stir. But you had a feeling no one would forget the display of you on your knees with your ass in the air, your extra pair of underwear displayed before you as if you were offering it up as a peace sign while submitting yourself to the torture.

“That’s your cell,” the guard snarked, hitting the cell door with their, extremely irritating, stick weapon. The door remained closed as you stood before it, a little confused about what you were supposed to do now, wanting nothing more than to get inside and hide in your bed for the rest of your time here. Rolling their eyes, the guard let out a long sigh and dramatically gripped the bars on the door, pulling it back to open up the doorway.

“There you go, princess,” they mocked you, leaning towards you and talking as if you were a child. “One super deluxe room including your personal psycho. If you need anything, you can ask that thing in there. Maybe they’re willing to not kill you if you tell them your little sob story of how you got here.”

Winding up with their baton in hand, you didn’t want to be hit yet again to be put into motion, so you stepped forward quickly, nothing but gray colors and the smell of sweat welcoming you into the enclosure. The guard slammed the door closed before patting themselves with their baton on the shoulder.

“Try not to die too quickly, okay? We only cleaned that cell last month after the last roommate died, and I don’t want that psycho peer down my asscrack again while we scrub your remains off the wall, gotcha?”

You couldn’t even have responded if this was a serious question. Because what were you supposed to say to that? “Okay, I’ll become best buddies with whoever is inside of here with me!” or “Oh, no, officer! Let me out, please!” The guard could be heard for a few more minutes as they made their way back outside, prisoners hassling them for information about you, wanting to know everything.

There you were now. Your cell. The place you’d sleep, live, and hide in for the rest of your sentence... or life. Wearily dragging your eyes over to the bunk bed, you stared into the darkness of the lower bunk, not seeing anything for a moment as your eyes adjusted. The light overhead was, by the looks of it, smashed. Just your luck.

“H-Hello?” you called out. Remembering the guard’s words, you realized much too late you shouldn’t have done that.

Your blood froze as piercing eyes split through the darkness, only outshone by the grin that formed on your roommate’s lips when you could finally see who you were dealing with.

Your chances of survival? Zero.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Welcome to the YMP, my lovely sinners!

The Yandere Multifandom Prison (Short YMP) hosts a multitude of long-term inhabitants. There is nothing in here that isn’t smeared in some kind of body fluid, fights are served like the cold eggs at breakfast every day, and there are definitely some... guests you’d like to avoid while staying here. Unfortunately, you didn’t really have a say in coming here, however, there are some things that are up to you!

RULES OF THE PRISON:

This is an 18+ Project, do not subject yourself to it if you can’t handle violence, gore, sexual content, yandere, and many, many more dark topics. (There will be individual warnings, but this is at best dark romance, at worse everyone dies.)

This is not a pure nsfw project! Please trust in me to decide when to include something! ♥

If you find yourself with questions before sending in your request, please asks me beforehand!

Read the Instructions below before sending in your ask!

Please no in-depth character customization or characterization. This is a xReader project and at this point I can’t provide OC-like conditions, sorry.

However, sparse details and wishes for the direction of the story and gender indications are welcome! Btw, you’ll find all kinds of genders in this prison, good luck ;)

Just focus on your reader for the information, I’ll come up with something for the characters of your choosing!

ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴠᴏʟᴜɴᴛᴇᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴍᴘ! [CLOSED!]

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨: Send in your ask with a few customized information for your reader.

🗡 ʜᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ʜᴇʀᴇ? (What felony did you commit to end up in prison?)

𓍝 ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀɪꜱᴏɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ? (Did you do it or did you take the blame?)

🗡 ᴡʜᴏ’ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ? (Multifandom Project! Choose one (1) character from my fandoms available, current and old.)

𓍝 ʟᴀꜱᴛʟʏ, ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇʟʏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪꜱᴏɴᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ... ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅꜱ? (Choose whether your LI is a fellow prisoner or rather an enforcer of justice.)

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Who knows? In all this chaos, you might just meet an unlikely pair of helping hands... finger count is debatable. What will you do when you are graced with the fortune of finding a protector amongst the scum of the earth? Will you guys be able to survive? Change your misfortune and get out?

Or will you come to realize that the person you trust is the one you really need to escape from?

#Prison Project #yandere prisoner #yandere guard #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

2K notes · View notes

lavishl0ve · 7 months

Text

🩸 Johnny Slaughter x Fem Reader 🩸

!disclaimer!

I love Johnny and he low-key inspired me to write something. This is my first “fic” and is a decent length (lol), if y’all are interested in the full story please lmk!! (btw nothing spicy in this first part- sorry 😔) Thank and enjoy.💋💋

Part 1: The Cellar

Oh God, stay quiet… I silence my whimpers pushing my hand against my mouth as I watch the skinned face wearing man run around frantically. Each rev of his chainsaw had made me flinch. I slowly shift myself in the shadows hoping to avoid detection, the tall grass covering my view. The sky is painted with tones of tangerine complimented by flesh-colors. The longer time seems to pass the more I seem unable to move. I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut hoping to escape reality, the darkness only paints pictures in my head. Julie. Hanging on that meat hook in that red room. I suddenly feel a wetness dripping down my cheek. We didn't deserve any of this, especially not her and God knows where the others are. I just hope they're safe. The others. I have to do this for them, I have to escape. Adrenaline seems to rush through me, I peek my head above the grass searching around hoping for a clear shot. No sign of them. I slowly ascend and sneak towards what seems to be the closest exit. I dive back into a patch of grass as I hear the sound of the chainsaw approaching again. The sounds accompanied with female screams… Ana’s screams. My body makes its own decision and suddenly I flee from the grass patch running towards the gated fence, the sky darkening. Keep running Y/N. Just keep running. Tears blur my vision as the scream becomes distant for each pace I run. I shouldn't, I can't help doing so, only hoping to confirm reality. I look behind my shoulder, that man drilling the chainsaw through her abdomen, her blue tank top now red. Stained with her own blood. I run faster but can't help to look away. A loud snap erupts from beneath me; fire engulfs my right leg and I trip over. My ankle caught in some bone contraption it had cut deep, deep enough to see tissue. That man sensed the sound, revving up his stalled chainsaw, I look back panicking and quickening my pace to release myself. The pain is horrific. Blood drips into my shoes and I limp towards that gate. No. The faint symbol of a red padlock is tightened around the gate. I won't make it. I scream out in pain hoping for the slightest bit of hope. A deteriorating wooden barn. Maybe I can hide there. I shift my direction pulling my leg along with me as that man approaches. I ran through the large doors, the barn still in darkness. I looked behind again, that man hadn't been able to squeeze through the crawl space I shimmied through. I have distance. I’ll be okay. I face forward and crash into a hard surface. I fall back onto the floor and my vision blurs. Blood rushing to my brain, fumbling the noise around me, the chainsaw re-approaching and the laugh of a man in front of me, faint footsteps walk toward me, the orange hues of the sky paint out his features. My vision is blurry, I can only map out his sleeveless tank top, and his slicked hair…? He grips a knife in his right hand. He crouches down his arms wrapping around my waist. I groan out in pain. His hard chest instituted a throbbing headache, my head pounding. He leans forward toward my face.

“Oh, I’m keeping you.” The man growls.

Then with a effortless hurl he throws me over his shoulder. My sight goes foggy. I can’t lose consciousness now. Stay awake. With each step the man takes his shoulder digs deeper into my stomach. I can't seem to stay awake. No need to fight back anymore. This is my fate.

“S’okay, I got er’ boy.” The man says, “Put that chainsaw to use. Find the other one.”

A low moan had replied from the man with the chainsaw, like an agreement. Wait- the other one…? Leland! He’s still alive! I cry out, putting each ounce of strength into my punches trying to knock myself down from the man's shoulder.

“No need to fight me on this Darlin’. You’ll just make it harder for yourself.” He remarks.

I grunt still trying to fight back. I’ve done no damage to anything but myself. I feel my energy slip away along with my consciousness…

—------------------------------------------------------

I awaken to the cold beneath me, I sit on the wet concrete ground. My vision clears, I look above, my wrists had been tied to the wall. I pull against the rope hoping to loosen them. I feel my blood circulation cutting off, my hands are numbing. It’s too tight and I can't seem to make any wiggle room. I look around hoping for some sort of tool I can use. Nothing. The cell just contains a worn-out mattress. Just great. I crawl over on the mattress hoping it’ll bring me more comfort than the cold floor. It’s better…I guess. I sit in silence, my head against the stone wall for what feels like an eternity. I fumble with my shirt. My shirt- it’s different. Damn. That outfit I had on was my favorite. Now I’m stuck in this worn out oversized black shirt. Realization had hit me, they changed my clothes, had that man undressed me? Shivers ran through my veins; I disregard the thought. Suddenly a woman skips in front of my cell giggling whilst peeking through. I hadn’t heard her approach.

“Aww, you’se caught yourself an aw’fully purty one.” The woman remarked.

She dragged her razor blade along the iron bars making a scraping sound, hitting each bar. Laughing mockingly.

“Leave the girl alone Sissy.” The man approached.

The same man from earlier had stood next to the woman supposedly named Sissy. He jumbled his keys, standing in front of the lock for the cellar.

“Ain’tcha got things to do??” The man says sternly.

“You ain’t no fun Johnny.” She replies, clicking her tongue and walking away.

Johnny inserts the key into the lock, twisting it and sliding the cell door open. Then closes it behind him. I find myself backing against the corner, the cold shooting through my spine once my bottom contacts with the cold floor again. Johnny turns around, walks over toward the mattress and sits down, his arms resting on his knees. I sat a few inches away from him. Completely defenseless. He shifts his head toward the left a bit, enough only so he could see me. I stare down at the ground avoiding eye contact. He analyzes me for a while. Complete silence.

“You can look at me y’know?” He breaks the silence.

I feel tears dwelling in my eyes, “What do you want?”

“Ain’t no need to be cryin’ sweetheart, ‘m not gonna hurt ya’...” He trails off.

He removes some sort of compact tin from his jean pocket, following a roll of gauze...? He places them on the mattress and gestures to my leg where I’d been caught. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s motioning towards. I look down and realize my leg has been wrapped up. I gasp slightly, surprised he wouldn't have just let me rot. I scoot forward slowly allowing him to have access to my ankle, I watch slowly as he unwraps the bandage trying to see the damage that was done. I hiss once the cold air touches the wound.

“Those damn traps he be makin’,” he laughs shaking his head, “Work a lil’ too well.”

Johnny then grabs the tin container from his side, it contains some sort of topical cream. He rubs two fingers into the paste and rubs it over the wound.

“Ah-” I groan in pain. The topical stinging my cut.

“You’se all right sweetheart.” He reassures me.

I shut my eyes, furrowing my brows waiting for the stinging to be over. I can feel the gauze wrapping lightly around my ankle. For a man that had brought me and held me captive in their basement Johnny's surprisingly gentle. I can't tell why but, I find myself ease around him a bit.

“Johnny-” I speak,

He looks up at me inquisitive, like I said something wrong. He raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“...why are you helping me?”

He chuckles to himself; a piece of his hair drops in front of his face.

“Can’t have our food spoiled now, can we?” He looks up.

My eyes widen at his response, I try and jerk my leg away, but his grip stays firm, his calloused hands keeping me from backing away.

“I was jokin’.”

He finishes tying up the gauze and rises to his feet. He leaves, re-locking the cell door. And then again, I’m left in the cell waiting, thinking. I try to stand seeing where I am, yet can’t reach the front of the cell, my wrists beginning to burn from all the tugging on the rope. I stop, throwing myself on the rough mattress. My dreams ought to be better than this place, right?

————————————————————————

#johnny tcm #tcm #johnny x reader #johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm x reader #leland tcm #tcm game #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #fanfic #x reader #julie tcm #ana tcm

233 notes · View notes

doki-doki-imagines · 1 year

Text

Kitsune!Michael Kaiser x AFAB reader

TW: Smut with really little plot, religious themes, dom!Kaiser, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, scent kink, Kaiser wants you to carry his baby LOL

author notes: I didn’t want to write smut anymore and here I am with this one. I also did a damn mood board I can’t even recognize myself anymore. It’s all Michael’s fault. Hope that I will get him out of my system with this one and finally write something else for the other fandoms LOL (and if possible not smut). Anyway it's 2k words of smut, hope you'll enojoy it.

It was an old habit you got from your granny-

“Every month visit the temple we have behind our house, cook some strawberry delicacy and the God of the mountain will protect you.”

Now, it’s not like you fully believed your granny's words, a lovely woman, but that kind soul believed a little too much in rituals.

But you know? Why not try? It was also a good way to improve your cooking skill and jog in the forest.

Every time you bring to the little shrine the food you made you get heart palpitation, the luck to live near such a wonderful forest. It is a small one, and rarely people jogged there, so you often found yourself alone or with some fawns passing by, the gentle wind caressing your face; truly relaxing.

Now it is a habit of yours, every afternoon you would bring to the temple a new strawberry delicacy. Too bad that winter came, and strawberries are nowhere to be found.

“Well, I suppose the God of the mountain will have to accept an orange delicacy this time!”

Imagine the surprise when the next day, near the plate you set near the shrine you found a ticket, made with some expensive paper, the words on it still make you tremble-

“I hate oranges, bring me something better.”

So there was for real a mountain God! You always thought the animals were the ones eating your food- “No, it’s impossible” you try to regain your composure. There is no God, it must have been some dumb kid passing by that wanted to play some cheap trick. Muscles still twitching for the fear you ran back home, not spending more than a minute there, and not noticing a pair of blue eyes following your every step from behind a bush.

The next time you visit the temple it is January, exactly one month from the last time you visited the shrine and you bring the same exact delicacy as last time.

“Can’t you read? I told you last time that I hate oranges!”

The plate falls on the ground with a thud, it isn’t broken, but for sure the food you made is now spoiled. But what surprised you so much?

A guy of breathtaking beauty sits on top of the shrine, he has sharp features, his deep blue eyes adorned by a delicate shade of red eyeshadow, the same color of his lips, plump and soft, you could tell it from afar. He has blonde hair, ruffled and all over the place, but you noticed the tips to be blue, the same shade as his eyes and you can only think about how much you would pay to brush his fingers in between his gold and sapphire tresses.

“Hey! Are you deaf? Reply back human!” He stands up, and you can’t not notice how tall he is, how broad are his shoulder and how fit he looks.

And then you also see the fangs and the nine white tails waving left and right from anger.

“I-Is this a dream?” don’t wake me up “Who are you?”

“I’m the God of the Mountains. Call me Kaiser.”

You nod, a loud gulp breaks the silence between you two.

“I’m so sorry, I thought some dumb kid left the note and-“

“Shut up, I don’t care about your excuses! I protect you and this is how you show your gratitude? With this disgusting-“Did he just throw at you the food you made? “oranges!?”

“When have you ever protected me you asshole! Never seen you around!” You shout back, trying to clean your chest; what a waste of good food.

“Maybe when I got rid of that stalker that was following you anywhere? Or when that brute of your colleague tried to punch you?”

A flash. Now you understand why all of a sudden that strange guy stopped following you, it hasn’t been going on for a long time so in the end you just thought you had similar routines. And that jerk of your colleague? You were sure he was going to punch you, but in the end didn’t, you thought he just cleared his mind and decided to let go.

“Oh I didn’t think-“

“Yeah, you don’t look like someone that has ever done that.”

Okay, this God is as much good-looking as he is irritating, but honestly, you don’t feel like angering the God even more so you let go.

“I’m so sorry for my attitude. What can I do to make it up to you?”

It must have been your trembling irises, your pupils were already blown wide, your chest slowly rising, up and down, and now pushing on his hard and broad one, faces mere centimeters apart, that gave the God an idea; a delicious idea.

“On your knees”

“W-What, umpf-“

Kaiser pushed you down and was now untying the know that kept his white linen robe in place.

“Be a faithful worshiper and pleasure your God”

At that moment you see his erect cock, such a pure white with two veins on the sides and the tip so engorged and so red, a mouth-watering contrast. You don’t complain and start by leaving kisses on his tip, they never linger, the heath subsiding immediately, never giving the pleasure the God wants to receive.

“Brat, take it”

Kaiser grips your hair and pushes in, the intrusion makes you choke, but the vibration just makes him want to abuse your throat more. You try to suck as good as you can, but you are not used to such a girth, saliva slips from the corner of your mouth, while his hands keep a steady grip on your hair, your scalp hurts, but even more your throat now that your nose brushes the blonde curls of his pelvis. You put your right hand on his hips, trying to set the rhythm yourself while the other massage the heavy balls that keep slapping on your chin.

“Yes like that, I know that you had it in you, whore”

He keeps abusing your mouth, and since you can’t still his hip you decide to use your hand where you can’t reach his length, finally relieving your sore throat.

“Look at you, squeezing your thighs together-“ finally a moan escape his mouth “you can’t wait to have me in you, mh?”

He is right, if he can stretch your mouth so much you can only imagine how deliciously he can stretch your tight pussy.

“Now darling-“ Kaiser pull out, your saliva still connect your lips to his cherry-red tip “pull out your tongue and hands, your God here is gonna bless you”

And he does, with a few strokes, his dick twitch and white hot cum cover your tongue and your open palms.

What can you do other than gulping down and licking your fingers clean? By the look on the deity’s face, you followed the right path.

“You are my fave kind of worshiper” He licks his lips and looks at you with a wicked spark in his eyes “lay down, you need to get ready”

You can’t even start to follow his order, that Kaiser already manhandled you on the ground, tearing your leggings with a swift motion, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t excite you immeasurably.

“Fuck, you don’t even wear panties? You really wanted to be railed in the mountains, bitch” His forefinger caress up and down your outer lips “Hold on me, it’s for your own good.” So you hold his biceps, while the other grip the cold ground.

It’s the last warning before his middle and forefinger start to abuse your wet core, scissoring, and curling against your spongy walls, you can’t help but let out heavy breaths in between broken whines. The God is brutal, doing this more for his pleasure, your drooling cunt must be a signal of how good he is, rather than your own.

“C’mon darling, touch your clit, it’s screaming for your help” He licks the shell of your ear, while one hand massages one of your breasts still covered by various layers of clothes.

You start to circle your clit, trying to follow the brutal peace of his fingers, but you are way too out of your mind to do that, your hips jerking totally off the peace.

You cum, your loud moan eaten by the blonde deity, his hot tongue sucking and licking yours, tasting himself on you, slapping your pussy every time you tried to escape from his mouth.

“So fucking wet, I bet anyone can understand what we are doing, fuck-“ Kaiser licks his fingers clean “delicious, better than everything you ever cooked” he pops them out from his mouth, and sit up, now in between your legs, holding your ankles and spreading you impossibly wide.

A devious laugh reverberates in the forest “Look at your cunt, squeezing nothing, it’s screaming to be fucked dumb by me, right?”

The shame finally overcomes you, this God is the nastiest being you have ever met. So you shake your head, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“Tsk, after all we’ve done you act all shy now? Just say it. Just say you want to be fucked up by me, a God”

You look at the deity, he pulled your legs down, still spread wide, but at least in a more comfortable position, his ears stand up and his tails too, his face is tinted red, and his plush lips are red and swollen; he would look so pure, if going down, you didn’t notice his throbbing cock against his stomach, in need for attention too.

Maybe you just want to be fucked dumb after all.

You finally nod and the God let out a laughter more similar to the one of a hyena than one from kitsunes.

“I knew you wanted this too.” He lifts again your legs now leaning on his shoulder, his hands planted on your sides, and bullies his cock in, a slight pain makes you shiver, but it is nothing compared to the pleasure his girth gives you.

“Fuck, you take me so well darling” His thrusts are restless like his fingers were, the loud claps of his hips against your plush ass fog your mind even more, while he couldn’t stop watching your tits, still bound but still jumping up and down thanks to his powerful thrusts.

“You fuck me so good- Kaiser!” That must awaken something in him, the deity looks at you, pupils so wide that the deep blue can be barely seen and then you see them, the fangs, getting sharper with each thrust.

“Say it again”

“K-Kaiser! Fuckfuck-“ You can only blabber, your hand now gripping his blond locks, pulling a few hair for every cruel roll of his hip, while his hand let your leg go, locking instead with your hand, still tightening on the ground.

“You want to be filled with my pups mh? Get all swollen with my cum-” His fangs get near your neck, your scent intoxicating his brain, each thrust now off peace.

“Yes, fill me! Fuck-“ You reach your apex, your glands releasing such a sweet scent that the deity has to restrain every fiber of his body not to mark you forever as his.

“Fuck take it all, I want you f-“ The God couldn’t finish, the mere thought made him cum, filling your cunt to the brim. His eyes roll back, the bitchiest moan slips from his open lips, and his tails flex to the sky, probably in tune with the roll of his toes.

After a few heavy breaths, the deity pulls out, and you feel his hot cum slipping down your core, wetting your ass together with your own wetness. He is still in front of you to notice that and push his cum back him, with the same two fingers that stretched you before.

“Don’t make anything slip. This is holy cum, it would be a sin to waste it.” Then he lays down next to you.

“Come again next week, don’t make me wait another month. And bring strawberries, next time we’ll eat them together.”

It is an order, and with your mind still fogged by bliss you can only nod, now hugging his warm body in this cold winter afternoon.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk smut #blue lock smut #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser

411 notes · View notes

nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 6 months

Note

So i was jus yk thinking and i jus thought what if we had red hair like shanks.. like not related at all it could be dyed or natural don't matter, but how would he react to seeing someone he doesnt know with the same hair color as him?

(Idk i feel like he would a lil happy n shi🤭)

Shanks headcanons?!?!

SHANKS HEADCANONS ✨️weeeeeee✨️

Also Shanks was at least like eighty percent of the reason that thirteen year old me dyed my hair red for the first time and it remains my prefered hair color to this day.

Silly and fluffy and SFW

Shanks (OPLA or anime) X Reader

Ugh his smile fucking kills me 🥹🫠❤️💀

Shanks grabbing Benn Beckmann's shoulder and pointing excitedly at you in a tavern in some port town or other, "Beck—look, look—"

*not even batting an eye* *just rubbing his temples and gritting his teeth* *tone of voice as if speaking to a small child* "Yes, Captain, other people have red hair."

*big stupid grin* "I know, isn’t it beautiful?"

*exhausted sigh* *literally so tired someone give this man a vacation*

Literally so happy, he revels in the little things and lives in the moment.

Let's face it, his whole shtick is hair color, it's in his nickname, it's in the name of his crew, he one hundred percent believes in redhead supremacy.

Basically turns into a giddy teenager about fellow redheads. Same-hat vibes, or that spiderman meme.

Any shade of red, from orange-ginger to deep red to burgundy, it's all just beautiful, and he will go out of his way to either befriend or flirt with any redhead within shouting distance.

Honestly does not care if it's dyed or not, actually kind of an honor if it is dyed because it means you're a redhead by your own free will and he just thinks that's so neat.

But if he's drunk enough that his brain-to-mouth filter is gone, then he's definitely going to ask you if the carpet matches the drapes. He fully expects to get punched for it (whether by you or Beck is as yet unknown), but he can't help it, he's just curious.

If you respond to his flirting in kind, he's going to want to keep you. Not kidnap you or anything obviously, but he's very persuasive and there's a fair chance it's going to work and you're going to be the newest redhead among the Red Hair Pirates.

Your new nickname is Little Red, this is non-negotiable.

He will constantly be playing with your hair, running his fingers through it, cuddling up to you and just burying his face in it, reveling in how bright and fiery it looks when the sunlight catches it.

If you do dye your hair, then Shanks is going to offer to help; but he has no idea what he's doing, it's going to be a huge mess, hair dye literally everywhere, and there's a good chance it's ultimately partly (mostly) an excuse to end up in the shower with you.

#one piece #opla #one piece shanks #red haired shanks #shanks opla #shanks headcanons #opla headcanon #one piece headcanon #fluff #shanks #shanks x reader

246 notes · View notes

cielcreations · 26 days

Text

Spectrum's Doll (VSAU Story)

Based off/Inspiration from the amazing @rhapsoddity and their Vigilante Sheriff AU as well as their Head Empty Sheriff AU! Their art and story is just *chef's kiss* Definitely check them and their stuff out, it's amazing and lovely and I just can't get over it.

Also, implied hermit/empireshipping in this story. Nothing too drastic, just characters mentioning how they were exes or how they like each other, but still, it's there.

Also, also, TRIGGER WARNING: Hypnosis/Mind Control. That's kinda the whole point of this story. Cool? Cool.

When Stratos asked Sheriff for help in finding Sausage, he didn't think he would have to make a trade, intentionally or not.

Sheriff tied the llama hybrid up, the man struggling the whole time.

"Are your informants really reliable? It just seems like no one is here." Stratos asked, "Well, besides Spectrum's minions."

"Yes, I'm sure my information is correct, my informants wouldn't give me false info or lie." Sheriff said. They may be pigeons, but they see everything. He thought. He put the llama hybrid against the wall, who continued to struggle.

"You won't get away with this." The man hissed.

"Hey, that's my line!" Sheriff teased, taking out a deputy's badge sticker and sticking it on his head, "Boop!"

Stratos rolled his eyes before he and Sheriff moved to the next room of the warehouse. It was dark, making the two already on edge. Suddenly, a single light flipped on, revealing Sausage.

"Sausage!" Stratos ran over.

"Wait, Stratos, be careful, I don't like this! It could be a trick!" Sheriff exclaimed, taking out another lasso.

"Oh, don't be uptight, it's Sausage, he wouldn't hurt-" Stratos stopped in his tracks as the brunette lifted his hand, a large vine nearly stabbing him but only brushing past his cheek, "-me..."

"What the-?!" Sheriff watched as Sausage began to fight Stratos, the hero dodging and yelling at the other to stop. He took out his grabbling hook, spinning it in his hand, "That's Sanctuary's power! How could Spectrum use it? Unless Sausage is- oh god, that would make sense, but then why-"

"Too many questions~" Someone whispered in his ear, hugging his arm and wrapping their arm around his shoulder, "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours~ Just sink deeper and listen to me~"

Sheriff blinked as the colors in the room began to blur. He groaned and pulled away from the person quickly. His vision was slightly clouded by a mix of colors, but he fought against it, seeing the colorful villain. He had teal hair with heterochromia eyes, one teal and one orange. He wore a simple black bodysuit with a chest window, black jeans, and a colorful jacket, his black mask covering his face.

"Woah man, take me to dinner first!" Sheriff laughed, trying to ground himself.

"Gladly!" The villain, Spectrum, smiled, "But I don't think this location is very fitting!"

The colors moved and Sheriff saw tables and chairs appear around them. He groaned, holding his head and focusing on Spectrum. If he did that, he could see the warehouse, he could hear Stratos's yelling and Sausage using his power. He needed to focus.

"I-I'm flattered, but one shouldn't mix work with play-!" He groaned.

Spectrum stepped forward, "Awwww, come on handsome, a little break wouldn't-" He gasped, stepping back to dodge one of Sheriff's punches, the dirty blonde dropping his lasso and grappling hook, "Oh, so you like it rough, huh?"

"Gotta keep you on your toes, don't I?" Sheriff chuckled, trying to punch him again.

Spectrum dodged. Sheriff couldn't tell if he was moving slower or if Spectrum was just that fast, but he kept trying to hit him. He focused on fighting Spectrum, the villain seeming to get more bored by the minute.

"You know, I'm surprised and impressed you managed to endure this for so long!" Spectrum cooed, stepping out of the way.

Sheriff panted, smirking, kind of proud of himself, "Yeah, well, I know villains like you prefer a show and I don't mind an audience!"

Spectrum again dodged, managing to get behind Sheriff, "That's cute, but we should really wrap this up." He kicked the dirty blonde in the back, Sheriff stumbling and falling to his knees, "I don't do this for everyone, but you're quite a special case!"

Spectrum moved in front of Sheriff, cupping his cheeks, "Now, do me a favor and scream."

Sheriff gasped as he was blinded by colors, a voice in his head telling him to give in, to let go, to relax, to let Spectrum in. He tried to resist it, he tried to think of things to ground himself. Norman, Flick, he two cats. Grian, his awesome brother when he's not being annoying. Sausage, Sausage still needs help! And Stratos needs him and-

"Stop thinking. You don't need to. Let me do all the work." Spectrum's voice rang in his head.

Tears formed in Sheriff's eyes as they fluttered. He tried to fight back, but the voices telling him to give in overtook him. He closed his eyes as tears ran down his cheeks.

Spectrum groaned, holding his head as he looked down at the dirty blonde, Damn, why did I have to use so much power on him?! He thought. He stared down at the other and smiled, cooing as he wiped the tears away. Sheriff's blue eyes were glowing purple, a blank look on his face.

"Nothing but a cute little doll." He giggled before looking at Sausage and Stratos.

Spectrum smirked, picking Sheriff up bridal style before slipping out of the room. He blinked and laughed, seeing the llama hybrid still struggling in the ropes.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up! Your arm candy is stronger than he looks!" The brunette hissed.

"Oh, I know, trust me, Owen." Scott walked over, using a knife to cut him loose, "Come on, I got what I want. The hypnosis on Sausage will wear off the farther I get away."

Owen looked at Sheriff in his arms, "Oh my god, you must've used a lot of power. There are no thoughts behind those eyes!"

"That's the point!" Spectrum chuckled, "He was really good at resisting, even tried to put up a fight. But when I finally got him to stop thinking, he finally was mine!"

The two continued chatting, slipping into the night, disappearing with Sheriff.

***

"Home sweet home, my doll!" Spectrum giggled as he placed the dirty blonde on his bed, Owen rolling his eyes.

"I'm stealing your bathroom for an hour." He grabbed his civilian clothes, walking to the door.

"That's fine! I'll be here!" Spectrum giggled as the brunette closed the door. He smiled, removing his mask and jacket, placing them on a chair.

"Yo, Scott, I heard Owen." His bedroom door open as his sibling came in, "How did- oh, you got him."

"Xornoth, this is Sheriff!" Scott exclaimed, making Sheriff turn to face his sibling, "Sheriff, say hi!"

Sheriff lifted his hand and waved a bit.

Xornoth rolled their eyes, "Whatever. Just keep an eye on him."

"I will! He's going to just be either arm candy or a doll!"

"Yeah, I get that, but you also let your toys wander, sometimes. Just keep him away from my stuff."

"I will, geeeeez!"

"You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I-"

"Scott." Xornoth looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Are you okay? Injured? Broken?"

Scott chuckled, "I'm fine, Xornoth. Head hurts a bit from using too much of my power, but I'm fine."

"Kay. Just making sure." Xornoth waved, "Alright, I'm going back to terrorizing 10 year olds."

"Have fun!" Scott called as they shut the door and left.

Scott then changed into some pajamas before facing Sheriff, who was still staring at where Xornoth once was. He chuckled, tilting his head to face him. He removed the dirty blonde's hat, vest, and scarf, placing them on a chair before opening his closet.

"What to put you in...?" He hummed, "Hmmm... I mean, I could leave you in boxers, what do you think?" He chuckled, laughing at his own joke.

"Mmmn-"

Scott turned and saw Sheriff's face was twisted.

"H-H-Huuuh-"

"Shhhhhhh~" Scott cooed, quickly closing the distance between them, holding the other's cheeks, "No thinking for you~ Just sit there looking pretty~"

Sheriff slipped easily, his face relaxing as he once again fell under Scott's control. Damn, even now, he's still trying to fight. I have to watch what I say and order of him if me asking what he thinks can bring him back. Scott turned back to the closet, deciding a clean white shirt was all Sheriff needed.

He unbuttoned the dirty blonde's shirt and widened his eyes. Winged... surgery scars...? He looked at Sheriff's back, eyes getting bigger, Small canary wings...?! Scott was in shock before he gently removed Sheriff's mask.

"Holy- Is that-?!" Scott cupped the dirty blonde's cheeks before smiling brightly, "Oh, my god! Jimmy Solidarity Gaming is Sheriff, aye?! That's so cool! No wonder I like you so much!" He then put the new white shirt on the dirty blonde, unbuttoning and removing his jeans, "We sure live in a small world, huh? That's crazy! I can't believe you became a vigilante! And a confident flirter too! I guess that's my doing, you're welcome everyone! I mean, I am sorry I have to take this handsome hunk off the streets, but he's miiiiiiine~!" Scott giggled.

Owen walked out, sighing, "Alright, I'm done.

"Thank you so much for your hard work, Own! You're dismissed, minion!" Scott teased, playfully clapping his hands together, "That will be all!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going!" Owen laughed, waving as he left, "See ya tomorrow!"

"See ya!" Scott chuckled.

He smiled, looking at Solidarity's face, still blank. He gently laid the other down laying beside him.

"Cuddle me."

The dirty blonde did.

Scott smiled, "So handsome, doll. And all mine. Go ahead and sleep."

Solidarity's eyes fluttered closed and Scott smiled. He turned off the lights and fell asleep himself.

***

Stratos paced, biting his bottom lip, occasionally biting his nail anxiously, his whole body stiff.

"Stratos, please calm down..." Sanctuary tried.

"I-I just can't, I'm sorry!" Stratos groaned, "I-I mean, Sheriff helped me find you and now Spectrum has him! He's been missing for three weeks and-"

"Excuse me!" The two turned as two heroes came towards them, the avian placing down the brunette, "Stratos, Sanctuary, pleasure to see ya!"

"Hey, Hotguy, Cuteguy." Stratos smiled.

Sanctuary waved a bit, "Thanks again for the help, Hotguy!"

"Of course. Actually, speaking of help, um... Cuteguy?"

The dirty blonde seemed hesitant, nervous even, anxious? "...Um, well... I was wondering, do you guys happen to know someone in your civilian forms? His name is Jimmy or he sometimes goes by Solidarity?"

"Yeah, we do! Why?"

"He's missing."

"WHAT?!" The two yelled.

"Wait, wait, wait, how do you know this?!"

"Well, Solidarity is m-"

"What he means to say-" Hotguy interrupted, "-is that Cuteguy and Solidarity are really close in civilian form!"

"Uh, yeah, right!" Cuteguy exclaimed, "Anyways, I went to check on him two weeks ago cause he wasn't answering me and we had plans, but he wasn't there. I tried calling, texting, calling his and my friends, no one knew. I looked everywhere and his cats..." He sighed, "His cats kept meowing and whining at me. I fed and gave them water and they acted like they hadn't been fed in days. Which is just not Solidarity! He would never just disappear on me! And he loves those cats more than anything, he would put them over everything else in an instant! There's no way he would just abandon them!"

Sanctuary nodded, standing up, "Listen, we'll help you find Solidarity, but can you guys help us find Sheriff?"

"Sheriff? The vigilante?" Hotguy asked, "Isn't he, like, your archenemy, Stratos?"

Stratos looked away, "I owe him. He awas the one who helped me find Sanctuary, but... Spectrum took him while I got Sanctuary back. He's been missing for three weeks."

Cuteguy flapped his wings, beginning to fly, "Okay, so Solidarity and Sheriff, right? I'll do a sweep of the city again, just to make sure neither of them are hiding in plain sight and we just overlooked them."

"I'll come with." Stratos flew to stand (float?) beside him.

"Hotguy and I will ask if anyone has seen them and for details. We'll meet up in a couple hours."

The four split up and began searching.

As the sun began to set and the moon rose, the sky darkened. Stars shined in the night sky as the four met up once more, sharing what little information they had. No one has seen either of the men, and no one had any idea where they could possible be.

"Uggggh!" Cuteguy groaned, "Dammit!"

"Woah, calm down Cute-"

"Don't tell me to calm down, Hotguy!" The dirty blonde hissed, "Ti- Jimmy is missing and no one has seen him, he just poofed out of existence and I can't do anything about it."

"Actually, I know where he is."

The four turned and immediately became on edge.

"Hephaestus!" Stratos glared, "What're you doing here?!"

"Not here to fight!" The redhead exclaimed, "Temporary truce?"

"Yeah right-"

"I know where Sheriff and possible Solidarity is being held."

The four widened their eyes and looked at each other, before back at the redhead.

"And why should we trust you?!" Sanctuary exclaimed.

"Spectrum kidnapped you as part of his big plan, knowing Stratos would come for you. And Sheriff being Sheriff helped Stratos saved you, but Spectrum now has him. Right?"

"How do you know all this-"

"Doesn't matter, he took Sheriff and he also has Solidarity, but I don't exactly know where he's keeping him since I've only seen Spectrum lugging Sheriff around."

"If you know this, why ask us to help you?" Hotguy questioned.

Hephaestus looked away, "Well... truth is, me and Sheriff have some... history. We know each other in our civilian forms but our relationship is... complicated." He looked at them again, "But that doesn't matter. Spectrum has him deep under hypnosis and I won't be able to bring him back alone. Even if I could, I doubt he'd listen to me. I need your help to bring him back. And I can help you find Solidarity."

Cuteguy bit his bottom lip. He summoned an axe and pointed it at the other, "If you're lying, I will actually kill you."

"Noted. Now, come on, this way."

Hephaestus led the way, the four heroes following him, albeit from a bit of a distance. They arrived at a warehouse, the five standing on the roof and looking through the roof windows. The lights showed Spectrum, his orange clad sidekick, and a dirty blonde sitting on a box.

"Who-"

Hephaestus broke the window with his giant robot hands and fell through, glaring, "Spectrum, give Sheriff back."

"Hephaestus..." Spectrum glared, "I should have know you would find me eventually, you've always been obsessed with Sheriff."

"I'M OBSESSED?!" The redhead growled, pointing at the other, his giant robot hand doing the same, "You made a whole plan to kidnap a hero, just in case Sheriff would show up as support, and then kidnapped him instead so you can have some fake boyfriend!"

"Oh, he's not fake, he's my real boytoy!" He then looked at Sheriff, smirking, "Right, dollface?"

Sheriff merely nodded, blank face.

"Son of a-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Stratos yelled as the heroes stoof beside Hephaestus, "That's Sheriff?!"

The dirty blonde's hair was brushed back, a little diamond clip holding back his bangs. He wore a simple sleeveless black bodysuit with black arm bands, black jeans, purple boots, and a purple belt.

Hotguy drew his bow, Cuteguy summoning a weapin beside him, "You and your sidekick surrender now, Spectrum. It's five against two, you're outnumbered."

"You're right, we are outnumbered, but you're mistaken. It's five against three." Spectrum smirked, "Handsome, take care of Hephaestus and Stratos for me."

Sheriff stood and unlatched a black lasso from his belt, spinning it.

"Sheriff, listen to me, you don't-"

The dirty blonde interrupted Sanctuary by wrapping the lasso around Stratos and throwing him into Hephaestus.

"Sheriff, stop-!" Cuteguy called before he noticed the colors start to move. He groaned, closing his eyes as he flew up, "Hotguy, be careful!"

Hotguy seemed unaffected by the colors, smirking, letting his vex wings out, "Sorry, colorful man, doesn't affect me."

"That's fine, I got three of you distracted." Spectrum smirked, "Orange, take care of Sanctuary."

"You got it!" The llama hybrid snickered.

Spectrum took out a knife, Hotguy trying to shoot at him, trying to disorientate him. Spectrum easily dodged it and got close, trying to slash at the other. Cuteguy kicked Spectrum back, the colorful villain looking at the avian and trying to manipulate him. Cuteguy groaned and held his head, closing his eyes once more. It was a dance of Hotguy and Spectrum fighting with one another, Cuteguy trying to step in only to close his eyes to not get effected by the hypnosis. Orange and Sanctuary got in a heated fist fight, Orange also using a knife to cut the vines Sanctuary summoned.

Meanwhile, Sheriff was using his own weapons, trying to stop Stratos and Hephaestus, mainly trying to lasso one of them and then throwing them into the other. Hephaestus stayed back, knowing how dangerous his weapons could be and mainly acting as support as Stratos tried to grab Sheriff or dodged the dirty blonde's attacks. Stratos flew forward and pinned him down on the ground, the brunette staring into Sheriff's eyes.

"Sheriff, come on! Don't let Spectrum take over you! You're stronger than this! Come on, get out of your head!" Stratos yelled at him.

Sheriff blinked, the glow in his eyes flicking.

"Sheriff?!" Hephaestus called, kneeling beside Stratos, "Come on, Sheriff! You're an idiot, but you're not weak! Come on!"

Sheriff groaned, eyes twitching as the glowing dimmed more, "N-Nnnngh-!"

Spectrum looked over and growled. He kicked Hotguy in the stomach, the hero groaning. He then threw him towards Cuteguy, both yelping as Spectrum ran over to the other two. He manipulated the colors, Stratos and Hephaestus groaning. Spectrum pulled Sheriff away from the two, the dirty blonde groaning.

"Nnngh, w-wha-"

"Shhhhhh~" Spectrum cooed, "Shhhh, shhhh, no thinking for you, dollface~ Calm down, slip deep again~"

Sheriff panted as he tried to fight a bit, but he easily gave in, face blank once more as he once again turned numb.

"You-!" Hephaestus growled, his eyes narrowing.

"He wants to stay with me, Hephaestus. Right, Sheriff?" Spectrum stood up, holding Sheriff's hand and standing him up.

Sheriff nodded.

"See? He wants me, not you."

"That's it!" Hephaestus held one of his arms up, pressing a couple buttons, "Stratos, cover your ears."

"Huh-"

Hephaestus pressed a button and, suddenly, a loud alarm began to blare. Everyone but Hephaestus and Sheriff covered their ears. Sanctuary, however, lifted some vines up and threw Orange against the wall. Spectrum yelled, glaring at the hero. He glared and looked at Sheriff. He pulled the dirty blonde towards him whispering in his ear. Sheriff's eyes glowed a bright purple as he fell to his knees, Spectrum running towards the brunette.

Hotguy groaned and drew his bow, ready to pin Spectrum to the wall. However, before he could let go, Sheriff used his lasso to take his bow.

Hephaestus stopped the blaring, "Sheriff-"

Spectrum helped his friend up, smirking, "Good boy, Sheriff! I'll be back for you later! Do whatever you need to do, kill them if you need to."

Sheriff stood up, protecting Spectrum and Orange. He panted, eyes glowing a bright purple, twitching as he gripped his lasso tightly.

"Sorry Sheriff, not dealing with this!" Sanctuary wrapped a vine around his leg and threw him against a wall.

The man cried out in pain, eyes closing as he fell unconscious. Stratos flew over and picked the dirty blonde up.

"Great, we got Sheriff-" Cuteguy looked at Hephaestus, "-now where's T- Jimmy?"

Hephaestus went to say something but they heard police sirens. He cursed, "Fuck, I'll go after Spectrum and Orange and get him, but I gotta go!"

"WHAT?!" Cuteguy's wings flared up as the other climbed out the roof windows, "YOU'RE LEAVING?!"

"Listen, we may have a temporary truce, but police and villains don't mix. I'll get Solidarity, you help Sheriff!" He then left.

"YOU LITTLE-" Cuteguy went to fly after him.

"Cuteguy!" Hotguy grabbed him, "He's right! He helped us find Sheriff, but the police won't care. Besides, all four of us will get in trouble if it's found out we were working with a villain."

Cuteguy's wings slowed down as he landed, "....Right. I'll stay back, explain what happened to the police, you all help Sheriff."

"I'll help you." Sanctuary stood beside Cuteguy.

Stratos picked Hotguy up, "Alright, we're heading to headquarters. See ya both later."

Stratos flew to headquarters, the two going inside and heading to the medbay. They laid Sheriff down on the bed, a staff member healing his back. Hotguy knelt beside him, holding his head in his hands. His eyes began to glow a light blue, his vex wings extending as he tried to use his magic to break Sheriff out of it. He groaned, focusing as much as he could. Suddenly, he pulled back, groaning as he held his hands.

"Hotguy?"

"I-I can't break him out of it, it's not that easy. Every time I try, I just feel Spectrum's power trying to overtake mine."

Suddenly, Sheriff's eyes shot open. He screamed and went to punch Hotguy, Stratos catching him and pinning him down. Sheriff struggled, glaring, kicking and screaming.

"C-Calm down, calm down! F-Fuck, what is going on?!"

Hotguy widened his eyes, "Spectrum's last order was to kill us..."

Stratos widened his eyes, cursing, "Sorry Sheriff." He headbutted the other, Sheriff falling unconscious again.

Hotguy picked Sheriff up, "This is going to take a lot more focus, I need to go to another room."

"What?! But, Hotguy, what if-"

"I'll be fine, I just need peace and quiet and no distractions." Hotguy reassured, going into a different room he knew had no cameras.

He locked the door behind him before he laid Sheriff on the couch, kneeling beside him. He took a deep breath, taking off his glasses. He held the other's face, closing his eyes. Light blueish-grey marks appeared around his hands and eyes, his vex wings extending slightly. His eyes glowed a bright blue as he completely focused on the dirty blonde's mind. I should be able to reach in, weave some memories together and bring him back up. Hotguy thought.

He was inside Sheriff's mind, tugging and pulling memories of the vigilante messing with Stratos, the vigilante saving the day and catching the bad guys, the vigilante... talking to some pigeons? Oh, and there he was, helping Stratos find Sausage and then there he was, talking with Spectrum and fighting his control. Finding those seemed to break Spectrum's hold a bit, as he heard the dirty blonde groan. He ignored it, focusing more. He reached deeper into Sheriff's mind, pulling more memories up, these ones more specific.

Sheriff seeing a little girl crying. The girl was lost, she couldn't find her mom or dad. So, Sheriff picked her up, calmed her down, even bought her some ice cream, before helping her retrace her steps. The girl's mom and dad were extremely grateful, thanking the man profusely. He just smiled and reassured them it was no trouble.

Sheriff almost getting caught by Stratos after helping catch a bank robber. The brunette had grabbed Sheriff's wrist, attempting to get the dirty blonde to put them behind his back. Sheriff merely spun them around, telling Stratos he loved to dance and to just ask next time. That flustered the hero and he let go, allowing Sheriff to run and playfully wink.

Sheriff arriving home. In a... familiar home. Sheriff taking off his mask, hat, and scarf, setting them down on a familiar table... Sheriff walking down a familiar hallways, two familiar cats running over and greeting him. He picked the cats up, went into a familiar bedroom, and took out his phone. He sat on the familiar bed, turned on the camera, made it face him and-

JIMMY?! Hotguy gasped as he stared at the memory playing out, O-Oh my god, no wonder Sheriff and Solidarity went missing around the same time, they're the same person! Wait, fuck, Hephaestus says he knows who Sheriff is, meaning he knows that- Oh god, no wonder he ran! He wasn't going to reveal who Sheriff was! Oh god, what am I suppose to tell Cuteguy?! 'Hey, your missing brother? Turns out, he's a vigilante! In fact, he's Sheriff! So we found both, hurray!' Oh god, if Grian ever found out, he would kill Jim for doing something so dangerous! Hotguy groaned, shaking his head, Focus. Focus, it's okay. Just... focus.

***

Sheriff's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding, body aching. He groaned, looking around the room. He saw he was in some sort of office and-

Dollface~

He gasped, sitting up straight, looking around.

"Hey, you're-"

Sheriff stood and out his fists up, glaring.

"H-HEY! I come in peace!"

"Wh-What the?! Hotguy?! Where am I?! Where's Sp-" Sheriff stopped himself and shook his head, "Where's the villain?!"

Hotguy smiled kindly, sitting down and patting the seat beside him, "He's not here. It's just you and me. Sit."

"...Am I being arrested?"

"No, not at all. Just sit."

Sheriff hesitated, but did so.

"Listen, so..." Hotguy sighed, "Spectrum's grip on you was really, really, really strong."

"Yeah, I know." Sheriff hugged himself a bit, "I... I would try to fight it, but he would just... I don't know. I don't remember anything. I just remember his voice..."

Hotguy nodded, "Yeah, I know, I could tell. See, because Spectrum's grip on you was so tight, it wasn't as simple as me just challenging the power. I tried that, but his last order was to kill us, so when it didn't work, you woke up and tried to kill us."

"'Us?'"

"Cuteguy, Stratos, Sanctuary, Hephaestus, and I all found you, but Stratos and I took you back here." He explained, "Anyways, when I realized that didn't work, I had to go deeper into your head, root around, and pull you out. And, upon doing that, I... I saw your memories. Memories of you... without the mask."

Sheriff widened his eyes and stood up, stepping back, "Y-You-?!"

"Listen, it was the only other thing I could do and I don't feel good knowing, especially under these circumstances!" Hotguy stood up as well, "I don't want to expose your identity to more people, Solidarity, it's why I took you to a private room."

"Wait, you know me?" Sheriff asked, "Like, by name?"

"Yeah, um, soooooooo-" Hotguy removed his glasses, "I may or may not live with your brother...?"

The dirty blonde widened his eyes, "...HOLY SHIT!" He sat back down with the hero, "Scar? How could I not tell?!"

"Well, to be fair, we have tech in our masks and glasses that the hero industry made. It helps conceal our identities more. So, when I put my glasses on-" He put them back on, "-the tech makes it so your brain can't accurately pinpoint features. It confuses your brain, therein making it hard for people to recognize us!"

"Yeah, that makes sense, you look completely different with those on. Weird." He leaned back into the couch before widening his eyes, "Oh my god, how long was I gone?"

"Three weeks."

"OH MY GOD-" He quickly quieted down, looking at the brunette, "Please tell me Norman and Flick are okay?!"

"Grian and I took them in when looking for you." Scar reassured, "Cuteguy and I went looking for you, er, you as in Jimmy, and Stratos and Sanctuary were looking for Sheriff."

"Oh thank goodness." The dirty blonde sighed in relief before he seemed to realize something else, "Oh god, Grian and Pearl..."

"Yeeeeeeeah, they're freaking out... Don't worry, I didn't tell them!"

"Great! Now I gotta make up how I escaped Spectrum and make it look believable..." He sighed, "So, Cuteguy and Hotguy found Sheriff, but Grian and Scar are still looking for Solidarity, right?"

"Yeah. Listen, I could sneak you out and-"

"Nah, I got this. At least Pearl is safe from all this!"

Scar smiled awkwardly, "Hehe, yeah..."

***

The colorful villain growled, tapping his foot angrily.

"Sorry man, I was care-"

"Don't apologize, Owen, Sanctuary was playing dirty."

"Thanks for saving me, Scott. Even if it meant loosing your doll."

"You're my best friend, Owen. I can capture Sheriff again. I can't replace you."

The brunette smiled up at the other, "Softie."

"Alright, next time I'll leave you." The other teased.

Owen laughed, humming, "...You know his secret identity, right? Are you going to use that to your advantage?"

Spectrum chuckled darkly, "Oh Owen..." He smirked, eyes glowing as he manipulated the colors in front of them, "Scott is going to reconnect with an old friend and see how he's doing. Whatever happens after, I can't say."

Owen just laughed.

87 notes · View notes