#until I nervously clicked on your url I mean

[odisn]

this is all I can give you tonight. tomorrow? who knows?

Oyin I legit thought this was like .     a virus from a porn blog KJFHKJFSH

#ooc. #until I nervously clicked on your url I mean #oyin. IM -- #but no it's not a virus #it is in fact very very very very very important #i've seen this before I have it saved #because you never know when u might need this #also this is like ... when I learn to supersize myself like antman #that's gonna happen #astonishee #asks

[angelelliee]

Cyber Sex

That one where.... you stumble upon a camboy by the name of “aeropicsforhotties” and join his stream

Warnings: modern!Xavier, smut, Skype sex, he’s kinda mean but it’s consensual so, mutual masturbation

A/N: everyone say thank you doja cat for making a banger! Also thank you @leatherduncan for Xavier’s url lmao! plz remember comments/ideas/ways I can improve are greatly appreciated. My AO3 is Xavierplymptons! Also accepting requests to be tagged if you would like! Enjoy!!

You didn’t know how you wound up here. It was one of those days where you were crazy pent up. You craved for release. Craved for someone to talk you through an orgasm. Your eyes scanned along the urls. A lot of them were....interesting. “Daddy’scumslut” made your eyes widen a bit. And “devilworshipper” made you nervous. You were giving up. And tinder was starting to sound more and more appealing by the minute.

That is, at just the right moment as your cursor hovered over the red x to leave the site. Your eyes fell on a blonde male. Clad in tight shorts and no shirt. Blonde hair styled up nicely even though he was already sweating from teasing himself. You moved the cursor back to the website and clicked on the video. Your computer released a loud ding.

You shot your hand towards the volume button and began to turn it down a bit before opting to search for your headphones. “Welcome to the show, kittycat” the blonde male purred. God even the sound of your cliche username was hot. Coming from him at least. You watched the sight before you. Xavier was his name. You eyed the background. Pastels and abstract shapes. 80s inspired, specially the outfit he was wearing.

“Remember, whoever tips the highest gets a private call with me” Your eyes widened again. A private call. Which meant all attention on you, and your attention on him. You grabbed your phone and checked your bank account. You got paid today. But were you willing to spend almost 100 dollars to get degraded and have a killer orgasm? “Oh, 130 dollars from kittycat” you shut your eyes as you heard the confirmation that you had won.

“Alright, ladies and gents. I’m so sorry you couldn’t cum with me but tomorrow night I’ll be back. Bye” he winked and shut the stream down. You inhaled deeply as you hopped off your bed. You looked around nervously, rushing to your mirror to check how you looked. The ding from your laptop had you rushing back. You fell on your front as you opened the inbox.

“Hey ;) what’s your Skype?” The message read. You read it about five times. The simplest message had your mind boggled. You typed your Skype name out and opened it before going back to trying to get ready. You turned the lights in your room to pink and pulled out lingerie you bought when you got your first real pay check. You pulled it on carefully and crawled back onto your bed.

It felt like everything was happening so fast. But you loved it. The faster you could get your release, the better. You pressed the answer button and moved across your bed to grab your vibrator from the nightstand. “Oh, hello” Xavier’s sultry voice purred through your headphones. You gasped in surprised and sat back down, brightly colored dildo held in your fist.

“I haven’t even been here for 3 seconds and you’re already getting ready to cum huh, kitty cat” he was lounged back on some bright neon pillows. Brows quirked as he watched you. “I must say that I’m surprised to see a young woman and not a 30 year old” you giggled against your hand at that remark. “I’ve never done this before” you answered. “Oh” Xavier seemed to perk up.

“So you’re new” he repeated. You nodded timidly. You could feel his power through the computer screen. You bit down on your lip. “Hmm you wanna show me what’s under that nightie, sweetheart?” Xavier purred as he got on his knees. You could see his hard cock pressing against his tight lilac shorts. You nodded again. “Use your words.” He ordered. You blushed even more. Your chest was growing a bit pink too. “Yes...” “sir”

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. “Yes sir” you sat up on your knees as well. You trailed your nails up your bare thighs and pushed the nightie up slowly, watching his reaction. His eyes were running all over, trying to get a peek at anything. Skin, panties, wetness. You licked your lips and pulled it off over your head.

You sat on your haunches and leaned forward so your boobs were pressed together and you were practically looking at him. “Show me something next, sir” you purred. “Oh kitty” he whispered and rubbed his cock against his shorts. “I’m in charge. Okay? You’ll get that role another time” another time? He was already making plans for next time?!

You nodded obediently. “Yes sir” you answered with a pout. “Take your bra off” Xavier ordered next. His mouth was hung open a bit. He was in awe as he watched you pull your bra off slowly. “Such a tease. Let me see your tits” you tugged it off all the way. Your hands grabbed at them, beginning to massage and play with them before he could order you to do so. “You’re behaving so well already”

You watched as he stood up. Finally tugging his shorts off. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock finally free. “You’re so big” you purred and twirled hair around your finger. First time and you were already practically an amateur pornstar. You giggled against your fist.

“You wanna show me that pretty toy you have?” You looked over at the vibrator. You grabbed it carefully and held it up for him to see. “So pretty. Rub it against your pussy. But don’t take your panties off” He lounged back again. His smirk grew as you did the same, laying back against your own pillows as you rubbed the tilted tip against your core.

You gasped in pleasure, just the mere nudge against your aching clit had you practically teetering on edge. “You’re desperate aren’t you, kitty?” he said in a condescending tone. You nodded quickly. “So pent up.” He purred. “Pull it away. Take your panties off and spread that cunt for me” such a vulgar word. But sounded so good coming from him.

“Yes sir” Xavier was pleased to hear that. He loved when girls (and occasional guys) were behaving for him. You tossed your panties aside and rubbed two fingers down. You spread your pussy open slowly, assessing his reaction. Which was better then expected. “Fuck” he grumbled. “Your cunt is so gorgeous. So wet for me. Only me, right?” He licked his teeth in pleasure as he began to move his fist on his hardening cock.

“Always for you, sir. I’m soaked.” You used your best innocent eyes, pouting deeply. “Rub the dildo against your pussy. Slowly. Match me” you did just that, rubbing the toy against you. It felt delicious. It would’ve been better if it were him. “Shit” he moaned and licked his lips. “Turn it on low and push it in. I want you to fuck yourself” he snarled out, hand squeezing his cock at the base.

You pulled it away and pushed it into your mouth. “God damnit” Xavier groaned out, moving his hand up his cock again, watching hotly as you pulled it out of your mouth and pushed it down your pussy and into you slowly. You gasped loudly and laid your head back. You whined breathlessly when you felt the low vibrations. “Look at that. Look at how your clenching around that toy. Bet you wish that was me huh?”

“Fuck- yes, sir. I wish this was your hard cock” You whimpered and began to thrust it slowly to match the pace of his desperate hand. You squeezed your eyes shut before leaning your head up against your headboard so you could watch him. “I’ve been teasing myself all day” Xavier breathed out. “You want to cum first? You deserve it” you moaned as you started to push it deeper and at a medium speed.

“Turn it up, kitty” he growled out. You did just that, moaning loudly into the humid air of your room. “Oh my god” you whined as your hips pushed down on the toy. “Look at that” he laughed softly as he began to match your pace now. His eyes were glued to your pussy and your pleasure filled gaze. The next few moments were filled with moans and whines and pants. “I’m gonna cum- fuck- kitty, cum. Now” he snarled and threw his head back.

Jaw slack as cum spilled onto his clenching stomach. You followed suit. A long loud orgasm was pulled from you. Your hips twitching and stilling every few seconds. “Well” He whispered and grabbed a towel. “Thanks for the session” you giggled tiredly and rubbed your eyes. “That was fun. I needed that” you agreed and sat up carefully, pushing the dildo onto the floor.

“Same time next week?” Xavier questioned cheekily. You agreed instantly. “Hell yeah” you giggled and watched as he waved and hung up the call. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep. But you woke up to the sound of your loud alarm. You groggily got ready for your morning class, rubbing your eyes.

The short walk to class was good for you. Your legs were sore and your body was still like jelly. You pushed open the building doors and went to turn the corner. Until you saw it. Him. The tall blonde hair and tight jeans. “Oh shit” you whispered.

Bbys! : @wickedlangdon @blackredrose27 @hecohansen31 @littlegirlsdontplaynice @guiltyfiend @antichristsxbox @angxlbaby666 @xavierplym @melodylangdon @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @fckinsupreme @xavierplymptons @xaviersghost @xavierplympton @lvngdvns @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @xavier-plymptons @codyfernno @stupidocupido @leatherduncan

#xavier imagine #xavier plympton imagine #xavier smut #xavier plympton smut #xavier x reader #:my writing

[readysetstarker]

so, i’m guessing i’m in for an “ugh, finally” from a follower or two. i’ve been busy, gone through some very personal stuff over the last couple of months that made writing a near-impossible task for me. thankfully, i’ve mostly made it through. so sorry for such a long wait, my dears. i hope y’all enjoy.

also, much love to @quellthefire for, well, pretty much everything over the past few weeks. she knows everything she’s done for me. it’s why i specifically waited for her to return from work to post this, lol.

i’m sure some people have changed usernames or had blogs deactivated, and if you have, please PM instead of replying so i can fix your url on the tag list! i know it’s taken me way too long to get this part out, and a lot has happened since last september. sorry to make y’all wait.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tag list: @loki-iwanttobeking, @strawberryparkers, @hoe4parker, @deliciousflapbanditfarm, @idontfeelsogoodmrspock, @srrnnrrs, @carttorchdeatth, @starkerhowlter, @starkeristhenameshippingismygame, @awesomeimportantfan, @itsjustmeowrooh, @starkravingspiders, @subverbaldreams, @this-starker-hoe, @moderndayqueenofscots, @prettyboy-parker, @sadbumblingmess, @winter-starker, @afreckledfairy, @lunakir, @parleroumourirr, @mintystarker, @starkerfics, @starkerprince, @mystarker, @aoifelaufeyson, @consciencecoward, @shinycreatoroafbonk, @themanandthespider, @jokesonme9000, @silkystark, @superpaperclip, @betteraskremus, @justallydavis, @marvel-shxt, @loki-helmet, @urfavisastarker, @haysend, @outlawbiscuits, @xmissemilyx-blog-blog, @silverloveless, @hereforagoodtimenotalong, @zoerayne2426, @kkomusume, @ardett, @seriouslystarker, @starkerprince, @shipperofalltheships, @morgoona-stark, @momobaby227, @idfuckanymarvelperson, @lltrashll, @richieleeparker, @haylove5, @katieb968, @xlace-babyx, @multi-fandom-fucker, @narutoyaoifan, @thatmarvelstan, @shinytoy, @allie-lyre, @country-cowgirl-101, @heyimstarker, @kiaorastarker, @nymeriasutcliff, @hoeforthegays, @ironspiidey, @annoyingcatto, @another-starker-hoe, @isomnelyswear, @starker-3000, @donttellanyoneitsmebabe, @peachbabytarte, @paintingbellarke, @pixiedragon99, @starterrrrrrrr, @pankade, @procrastinating-porcupine, @book-reviews-by-titch, @scared2death2live, @leatheronplaid, @untold-royalty, @kittycake574, @rk800puppy, @nerdylocksandthethreebears, @ikneelbeforemygod, @bipolarlatinx, @amazingness666, @fandombitchs-blog, @love-is-not-an-option, @starkerflowers, @theatrekidwithissues, @babygirl-barnes, @rebel13lion39, @cherrygoldlove, @casnovak88, @princess-parker, @blue-birb-blog

Warnings: peter is 19. anxiety attacks, mentions of a student/teacher relationship. nothing nsfw here. saving that for later ;)

—

Peter read the email over and over again, heart pounding like an uncontrollable jackhammer, and willed it to be fake. Some part of him hoped that maybe Flash had gotten ahold of Professor Stark’s email, gone through his computer, and sent it to throw Peter off. The things Flash had done and said to him back in high school, Peter wouldn’t count Flash out of doing something so… cruel.

Regret to inform you that your services as a teacher’s assistant will no longer be needed, the words said, each letter like a knife in Peter’s chest. Thank you for your interest in the position, but a more qualified candidate has been chosen to replace you. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this change causes...

He couldn’t bring himself to read the rest. His blood went cold, even as his heart pounded so hard he briefly thought it would jump out of his ribcage. This couldn’t be happening. He could just close his eyes and count to three, and everything would be fixed, right? Right?

Peter hastily clicked out of the window and began pacing his room. He chewed on a nail until it broke. What was he going to do? What was he going to say? He had already told May he had an announcement to make at dinner; she was expecting something good, if the way she was humming and singing to herself in the kitchen was anything to go by. 

The last thing he needed to brag about was losing the position.

His fingers were moving across his keyboard before he could properly think. Pulling up the email again, sending Professor Stark a reply filled with apologies for anything and everything he had done wrong, and refreshing the page four times within the span of two minutes. Hopefully, Professor Stark wasn’t one of those teachers who didn’t respond to their emails.

Peter paced his room and refreshed the page until May’s voice finally floated in through his doorway, “Dinner’s ready, Pete! I don’t think I burned it this time.”

Peter’s heart jumped into his throat. He’d have to tell her.

The smell of definitely-burnt meatloaf clung to Peter’s nostrils when he entered the kitchen, a hazy, smokey fog hanging over the apartment. May stood at one of the windows in the living room and used a copy of The Daily Bugle to waft it out into the night. She brushed her dark hair out of her face with her free hand and offered him a weak, guilty smile.

“Okay, I lied. It’s a little charred. But I won’t be offended if you want to scrape off the black bits.”

Peter offered her a weak chuckle and went to set the table. He nervously ran his thumb over a chip in one of the plates while May abandoned her task of fanning out the smoke, but she left the window open. A gentle breeze and the smell of Queens at night joined them at the dinner table.

The meatloaf was dry and tough, but the vegetables she had cooked to go along with it were nearly perfect. She did tease him about how much salt he put over them before she took a sip of her water and cleared her throat. “So,” she started, and Peter didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “What was your big announcement? I’ve been dying all day, since you texted me at lunch.”

At lunch, I still had a job, he thought bitterly, buying some time for himself by chewing thoughtfully on a stalk of broccoli. 

“Oh, yeah.” Peter swallowed and, wow, his tongue was ridiculously dry. Had he put too much salt on his food this time? No, he hadn’t, but he liked to think that it wasn’t his fear and anxiety making his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. “It’s, um, it’s not—”

“Is everything okay?” May asked, and the concern in her voice made his chest ache. “I know finals are coming up. Are you doing okay in your classes? Do you need help? You know, we have that retired chemist upstairs; I’m sure she wouldn’t mind tutoring you if I baked her a pan of my walnut brownies. She was asking for some the other day.”

“No! No, I’m doing fine in my classes. My astrology teacher actually made me exempt from taking the exam because I have the highest grade in the class.” Peter’s teeth dug into his cheek. “May, it’s about the teaching assistant job.”

“The what?” May perked up, eyebrows rising to her hairline. “What job? When did you apply?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” May shook her head, food forgotten, completely entranced by Peter’s next words. “Oh, um, the teacher of one of the dual enrollment classes I took in high school was hiring a couple of assistants for next year. I applied for it.”

Her face lit up; Peter could see the excitement in her eyes. His stomach dropped even further as she leaned in with a grin.

“Did you get it? You got it, didn’t you? Wait, when did you even apply? Why didn't you tell me you were applying?” she asked. Each question came so quickly Peter didn’t have time to answer. She was practically vibrating in her seat.

Fuck. 

What was he supposed to say to that?

“I, um, I did my first training for it today,” he offered. 

It wasn’t a complete lie, not a lie at all, but it still didn’t feel right watching May cheer and jump from the table so forcefully that she knocked her chair over. She didn’t seem bothered about disturbing the neighbors with the noise. May rushed around the table and threw her arms around his shoulders. Her kiss to his cheek was met with no protest.

“Oh my god, I’m so proud of you! Did you enjoy it? Does it pay?” she asked, and quickly followed it up with: “Oh, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you enjoy it. And that it doesn’t get in the way of your school work.”

Peter just nodded as she kissed his cheek again and ruffled his hair. “We have to celebrate! Oh, I have moose tracks ice cream in the fridge! Bought it on a whim. What excellent timing, though!”

May didn’t seem to notice the strain in his smile as she placed a noisy kiss to his forehead and abandoned her half-eaten loaf for fetching the ice cream from the fridge. Peter let the smile drop from his face the moment she was back in the kitchen, twisting his fork on his plate, a piece of tough and overcooked meat speared on the end of it. His appetite, already struggling, made itself non-existent now.

He had to do something to save himself the embarrassment of owning up to May. He couldn’t disappoint her, not with how excited she was, and how she politely (and, almost embarrassed) asked him to assist with rent.

The cherry on top of his horrendous night was calling Tony, hoping maybe he could distract himself or ask for a fitting punishment, one of the ones Tony dolled out when Peter really wanted him to be mean. His first call was cut short, barely making it to the third ring before an automated voice told him his call couldn’t be completed.

He tried again, hands shaking, heart jumping into his throat, hoping the operator on the other end wouldn’t judge or laugh at his desperation. She was monotonous as ever, but that didn’t stop his mind from supplying every little possible laugh and mocking word she would have said once he was no longer within earshot.

Waiting for Tony to pick up his second call was even more nerve-racking than the first time, and the rejection hurt that much more. He didn’t bother listening to the message again, shutting his phone off and tossing it to the end of the bed.

Peter’s eyes stung and the back of his throat ached. 

He pretended to be content when he forced himself under the covers, hiding his face as he went to sleep with damp cheeks. 

—

Peter had spent his entire morning building up the courage to confront Professor Stark. He had barely managed to focus enough on his psychology professor’s lecture to take decent notes, couldn’t eat due to the anxious churn in his stomach making him sick, and had to calm himself down from the edge of not one, but two meltdowns in one of the bathrooms in the social sciences building. 

He needed to do this. Not just for him, but for May, for both of them to be able to stay afloat.

The landlord just raised their rent. He couldn’t afford to be passed over for the position.

So he struggled with his focus on classes, managed to avoid setting another fire in a chemistry lab for the second time that semester, and somehow didn’t drive himself completely insane. His leg bounced like he had four springs embedded into his heel during the last twenty minutes of his biochem class before they were dismissed, and he was the first student out the door.

He had practiced what he was going to say, his arguments on why Professor Stark needed to keep him, planned to cover any lingering doubts in his abilities. Sure, he only took the 101 lecture, but he was a quick learner. He could still assist with other lectures, if given the chance to study them beforehand.

And catching the older man off guard in his office played well in his favor, until Professor Stark gestured to one of the chairs Peter stood between and told him plainly, “Sit down.”

His argument, his perfect defense of himself, was shattered. Peter blinked, mind still trying to catch up with the sudden halt of his thought process. “What?”

With a nod to a specific chair, Professor Stark continued, “Sit. You want me to tell you why I cut you loose, right?”

Peter practically threw himself into the chair, flubbing over his, Yes, Mr. Stark. This is what he needed, to know where he went wrong, know what he needed to improve on. If it meant going home with six of Stark’s textbooks or a bruised ego because of the man’s infamous harshness, Peter was fine with that. He could take a shot to his ego.

He expected a little criticism.

What he didn’t expect was Professor Stark to clear his throat, lean over his desk, and fix him with a smirk before saying, “Okay, kitten. I can do that.”

Peter’s brain grinded to a violent halt. The words registered. His brain still refused to process them. 

His first thought, once he could actually think, was That’s inappropriate.

Peter’s face pinched together with a mix of confusion and distaste. He’d heard horror stories of college professors who wanted sex in exchange for perfect grades, or internships, or anything else a student might need to progress academically. Mainly, he’d heard stories from female students, not male students. 

Maybe Professor Stark was one of those teachers, and Peter had given him a bargaining chip by confessing just how serious his situation was. There was no way Peter was going to sleep his way into the position. He valued his pride more than that.

Peter had already thought of running to his advisor and making a report of Stark’s coming onto him, when the voice ran through his head again. The words played on repeat, a familiarity clinging to his tone—

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach. 

Tony’s smirk deepened, but there was no pleasure in it. Mirthful, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his trimmed goatee with one of his hands. The other drummed on the arm of his chair as he waited for Peter to say something.

Peter’s tongue stuck to the top of his mouth. Speaking was a struggle, but somehow he managed to work out a few words, “Oh, my god.”

Tony laughed. His Tony. He looked… less than happy to see him. “You gotta understand the kind of predicament I’m in, yeah? This whole thing we started isn’t, well, good for either of us now.”

Peter’s face burned; he was sure that Tony could see him turning red all the way down to his neck. 

He wished he could focus. He wished he could nod along and agree with everything Tony was saying, but God, it was so difficult to do any of that when he was staring Tony right in the face. All of the faces, the bodies, everything he had fantasized about when they weren’t talked could never have lived up to the man sitting in front of him. Even the grays in his hair were different; they lined his temples, as expected, but there were strands strewn about in the hair he had so carefully styled up and back.

And his voice was just as distracting as it was through a phone speaker.

Peter needed water. Was the A/C in Tony’s office broken?

“Um. Yeah,” he said, still slowly processing Tony’s words. How had he managed to work for the man earlier without getting distracted? Sure, the man’s voice had sounded familiar when he first heard it, but hearing the confirmation that he was exactly Peter thought of when he was at home—

Home. Shit.

“But!” he started, nearly jumping from his seat. Tony started at his outburst, eyes wide and brows high on his forehead. “But, Dad- Um, Tony. Stark. Sir. Professor Stark, please, I need this position. I’ll do whatever you want me to if it means keeping it.”

“Dangerous words in our current situation, kiddo.”

Peter scoffed. “It’s not like anyone knows.”

Tony clicked his tongue and grimaced. 

“Who?” Peter asked, the blush in his cheeks fading to white.

“Dr. Strange.”

“Shit.” Peter put his head in his hands, rubbing patterns into the back of his eyelids. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Not like he had Dr. Strange’s class the next day, or the following week until finals. How was he going to look the man in the eye now?

He shook his head; he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Tomorrow, at 10 AM.

“Is…” Peter paused. How would he word this? Slowly, he figured, as he started speaking again, “Is what we’re doing... Is that the reason you want to fire me?”

“Pretty much,” Tony answered with a nod. “There’s only so much tenure can save my ass from.”

Peter swallowed, pretended that the low dip in his stomach wasn’t there. Firing Peter to save himself. Suave, handsome, but an asshole. He sure knew how to pick them.

“So, let’s stop.” Tony’s brows rose again. “The whole, you know, phone thing. The relationship. Whatever you want to call it. I need the job more than I need, um, that.”

Silence. Tony stared at him, face now a blank slate, eyes boring into Peter. He wished he could tell what the older man was thinking, if for nothing but to ease his anxious, pounding heart. His face felt hotter still. He was pretty sure he was beginning to sweat. Tony should get his A/C checked. 

God, Peter wished he would speak already. The silence and scrutiny were killing him.

Tony’s hand came up to his goatee again, rubbing at his stubble and covering his mouth in the meat of his palm. 

“Sound logic,” he said. His hand dropped from his face with a shrug. There was another moment of silence as Tony chewed on his lip and seemed to ponder over Peter’s words. “You really want this job?”

Peter had to push his hair out of his eyes from nodding so vigorously. “Yes.”

Tony tapped his finger on his desk a few times. Peter half-considered leaping over it and demanding an answer. 

“...Fine. It’s yours. On one condition.” Tony held a finger out to him. “You do not use this situation against me, in any capacity. I mean it, no extortion. I’ll fire you immediately.”

“Got it.” Peter nodded. He certainly wasn’t planning on it; it was the last thing he would ever tell anyone outside of their situation. He was dreading Strange’s next lecture. That was already exceeding the amount of people he wanted to know about them.

“Good. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter failed at hiding his grin, and he wanted nothing more than to reach across Tony’s— Professor Stark’s desk and throw his arms around his neck. The word Daddy almost slipped from his mouth again when saying his thanks. He caught himself, rushing out of the teacher’s office for his next class. He was already late, but he didn’t care.

He still had the job. At this moment, that was all that mattered to him.

—

Back in his office, Tony ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

God, he was so fucked.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #my work #phone sex au #god finally #it feels like it's been ages #the chapter count has gone up now ;)

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 15

pairing: mob!steve rogers x reader

synopsis: y/n is an exhausted bio major. steve is danger with a capital danger. she thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. he thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. l he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

A/N: Hi! I changed my url I was lovemeterwrites. I know it’s been a long time so sorry for the wait!

MASTERLIST

A Very Manly Heart to Heart

Your fingers were intertwined with his. 

They’ve been all night. 

At first, his touches were subtle, shy, nudges hinting of wanting something more. Something only you could give him. And as the night unravelled, you gave into his gentle pleas. Your hand slipped perfectly in his while waiting in line at the boba shop. 

It caught him off guard at first. He whipped his head towards you with wide eyes flitting back and forth between your clasped hands and you perusing the menu on the wall. You acted like it was nothing. As if it's always been like this. Fingers crossed against his, palms pressed against each other like two puzzle pieces with a perfect fit. 

And when you pulled him along to find a table, his footsteps felt lighter, his insides felt like jelly, and the world seemed a bit brighter. 

Tonight it was boba. The night before it was coffee at the bookstore. The night before that was milkshakes at an old diner. 

It had become the routine for the past week. He’d come to pick you up after class and take you somewhere new with the sole subject of your conversations being each other. Your likes and dislikes. The never-ending debate about the arts and sciences which usually ended in harmless insults. Then when you felt like you’ve had your fix for the night, he’d drive you home. That was your favorite part of the night. 

Your fingers would be loosely intertwined with his. Your thumb brushing against his finger periodically. Eyes glued to the window, watching the city at dusk twinkle underneath the moonlight or rushing by as blurred lights. The windows would be turned down just enough to let in a winter breeze, just enough to cool the heating blush scattered on your cheeks. Neither of you would speak, only listen to the words of your heart dancing along to the murmurs of a sweet melody on the radio. 

“What are you going to do now?” Steve asked, walking down the hall to your apartment. 

You shrug. “Oh, probably study something,” you thought aloud, “rewrite notes, maybe.” 

Your tone is melancholic, expressing the dread that’s beginning to fill you at the thought of all the things you had to do. 

“Do you really study?” he asks with a chuckle when you stop at the door. He leans against the wall next to you. “Or are you just saying that to keep that perfect student image you got going?” he teases. 

You raise a brow paired with a sassy smile. “And what do you think I do with my freetime?” 

Steve’s lips contort into a sly smirk. “Think of me,” 

You rolled your eyes and slapped him on the chest, slightly pushing him away. “Oh, you are so full of yourself!” He laughs, falling back. “Do you though?” he asks with a soft smile and even softer eyes. 

Your expression mirrors his. You look down bashfully then back up to find him still looking at you. “Sometimes I do,” you confess shyly, “But then I realize that it’s a waste of my time and I’d rather do better things," you scrunch your nose. 

Steve groans loudly. “You’re so mean to me.” 

You shrug while lifting your nose in the air. “Someone’s gotta bully the kingpin. Might as well be me.” 

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he stands straight. He takes your hand in his and dips his face into your space. “Maybe I can come over and help you study?” he suggests. Although it sounds more like he’s tempting you. “Read your flashcards for you?” 

You chuckled. “We’ve done that before and you did horrible.” 

“I’m practicing,” he whines, his voice lilting with his words. 

You bite your lip, thinking of what to do. He’s making that stupid puppy dog face and maybe if he did it a few weeks ago you wouldn’t give in but things were a bit different now. "You can only come over if you're not a distraction." 

Steve beams. "I promise to be on my best behavior,” he says to make you chuckle. He comes closer until his lips catch yours in a simple kiss. 

The door to your apartment opens suddenly. You jump back from Steve, completely startled to find Quentin standing in your apartment. 

He isn’t happy. His lips were twisted into a hard frown. His soft blue eyes were shooting you disappointed looks. He decided to keep his focus strictly on you because he knew the minute he looked in Steve’s direction he was going to lose it. 

"Quentin!” you yelled. “What are you doing here?" 

“I’m supposed to be here,” he retorted. “Remember?”

You stay quiet. Quentin knew about the key under the rug and you had no problem with him being over, but you didn’t know what he was talking about. 

He huffs deeply. “Did you really forget what today is?” his shoulders drop with a sad pout. 

Silence. 

“It’s Friday.” 

“Wow he’s so smart,” Steve compliments, “Does he do tricks?” 

Quentin grumbles. 

“Steve,” you hit him on the chest with the back of your hand. 

“It’s Overwatch night!” he exclaims. 

“That was tonight?” 

“It’s always Friday night!” he waves his hands around. “More importantly, do you know how worried I was?” he questioned. “You didn’t pick up any of my calls.” 

Your brows knitted in confusion. You take your phone out of your coat pocket and check it.

10 missed calls from yours truly.

Oh, I'm in trouble now. 

“My phone’s on silent,” you chuckle nervously, “sorry about that.”

Quentin isn’t laughing. 

You stop laughing and try to pry away from his glare by looking at everything but him.  

Overwatch night was a serious matter. It was a tradition that the two of you did together and only the two of you. Because that’s how it’s always been. Just the two of you. But nowadays, he hardly ever sees you. And it feels like you’re slipping out of his fingers.   

“Well I guess Overwhatever night is cancelled, so you can go home now,” Steve chimes in. 

“It’s Overwatch,” he replies sternly.

“I don’t care,” Steve says indifferently. 

“Me and you need to have a talk,” he directed at Steve. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” 

“Well, I do, so let’s go,” he grabs him by the arm and pulls him along. 

“Quentin!” you followed behind him, ready to argue. 

“No, you stay here,” he ordered with a pointed finger. 

“But—”

“I said in, young lady,” he pointed inside. You sigh while watching the two walk down the hall. Steve looks back with a goofy smile and a shrug. You mouth him a “sorry”. He shakes his head with a chuckle as he enters the stairwell behind your friend. 

You just hoped they didn’t kill each other out there. 

“Sooo,” Steve drawled as he stood against the wall of the apartment with Quentin a few feet away from him as if he had the plague. 

“I hate you,” Quentin deadpanned. 

Steve chuckles sadly with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Gee, I wouldn’t have guessed that.” 

Quentin clicks his tongue at him. “You know what I hate the most about you?” 

“That Y/N likes me more than you?” the blonde jests. 

“No, it’s that fake face you keep showing her.”

Steve’s brows knit in confusion. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know exactly what I mean,” Quentin stated, rooted in his position. “I know about guys like you. You act all sweet when you’re really not. You might have Y/N fooled but not me.”

“I swear you’re a genius,” Steve says with a roll of the eyes. He takes another long drag of his cigarette. 

Quentin’s jaw clenches tight. “I’m not playing around. There’s nothing pure and wholesome about a mobster. You guys are lower than scum.” 

Steve’s head whips towards him and he grabs a handful of Quentin’s sweater. He tugs him closer, his eyes shooting daggers at him.  “Watch your fucking mouth.”

Quentin stands unashamed and unafraid. His eyes are just as firm as his stance. Steve had to admit he had the guts to stand tall after insulting the kingpin. “Or what? I’m not afraid of you.” 

Steve lets go of him with a light push. “The only reason why I haven’t pounded that pretty face of yours yet is because of Y/N,” he states, pointing his finger at him. “I don’t give a shit if you hate me or not. I’m not here for you, it’s for her. I care about her.” 

Quentin snorts. “You care about Y/N?” he repeats with disbelief. “If you cared about Y/N, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?” 

“Putting a target on her head.” he dropped on Steve, making him go silent. “They’ll hurt her to get to you. Have you ever thought about that?” 

Steve exhales through his nose and his shoulders drop along with his lips. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it for a long time,” he confesses. 

Quentin can hear the clarity in his voice. Either he’s really good at lying or he’s being honest. He’d like to believe it was the first but he had a feeling it was the second.

“I asked her if she wanted to leave and she said she wanted to stay. I gave her that option. I didn’t want her to be forced into it and I will never force her into anything. When I said I cared about her I mean that. She means more to me than you'll ever understand." 

Quentin shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shakes his head. “She means a lot to me too and I just wanna make sure she’s okay,” he whispers, looking down. He kicks the sidewalk with one leg, grazing the sole of his shoe against the concrete. “She’s been through a lot. She grew up alone. She had no one and didn’t trust anyone. But she opened up to me, and I take our relationship very seriously. I love her.” 

Steve’s ears perk at the end. He turns his head to look at him. Two pairs of blue eyes catch sight of each other. One filled with worry and a slightly murderous intent. The other pair exasperated. 

“Not the way you do so don't blast my head off, I see her as a sister, alright?” he deadpans. “But I just worry for her sometimes,” he turns soft again. “She’s good at hiding how she feels and making it seem like it’s all good when it’s not. All I want—all I really want is for her to be happy and safe,” he confesses. “I don’t care if it's with your dumb ass or someone else as long as she's really happy, I'm happy." 

"You're a good guy,” Steve replies awkwardly. 

"I don't need to hear that from you." 

"Damn you're annoying,” Steve grunts. “Just take the stupid compliment will ya?" 

Quentin chuckles quietly, "Alright thanks.” 

The two men stand at the curb, each one turned slightly away from the other, watching the lifeless street quietly. The cold nips at their cheeks and begins to sink into their bones, but they don’t mind it. The strong scent of smoke from Steve's cigarette twists around the two. Quentin takes a step away. He hated the smell of smoke. It always brought back memories of when he lived with his dad. 

He wiggles his nose and rubs it with his fingers. 

“You really like her?" Quentin breaks the silence. "Like you're not doing this just to pass the time?" 

Steve chuckles with a smile. He drops his cigarette and crushes it under his shoe. 

Thank God. 

"Would it really matter if I answered yes or no? Cause at the end of the day, you're still not gonna trust me." Quentin grumbles with an irritated expression painted on his face.  

Steve smiles at him before looking up at the night sky. Not a star in sight and yet it seemed brighter than before. 

"I've spent a lot of my time alone. I've seen a lot of people I cared for leave, some without even looking back. Some of them, not even getting the chance. And I made up my mind I didn't need anyone anymore. I'd live by myself–for myself," he looked down with a sad frown. 

Steve rarely spoke of his feelings. With the job he had, emotions were just an inconvenience. You can’t really cut a guy’s fingers off if you felt pity on his pregnant wife at home. It’s hard to do the things he did if he felt something. 

But here on the street next to a guy he barely even knew, that he hardly even liked, it felt easy. And maybe it was that uncertainty that came with a stranger that made things like this easy. He wasn’t trying to prove his worth with some heartfelt bullshit. This was real. It was raw. These were thoughts he had for the past few weeks. What he thought about on the way home from dropping you off. When he sat in his office with Lucky in his lap, and a fire crackling in the hearth. The things he was thankful for.

"But then I met Y/N, and at first I was just intrigued because she was different. Maybe ordinary to everyone else, but she stuck out to me,” he says, "And maybe at first it was just to pass the time but it turned into something more. The more I thought about her, the more I liked her. The more I wanted to know about her and become a part of her life,” he smiles softly at the ground.  “Maybe I'm being selfish, but it's been so long since I've really felt something and when someone like her drops into your life–you'd be stupid not to take the chance,” he turns to look at the him. 

Quentin knows he’s being honest. He can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. 

“I don't know what's to come in the future but as of right now, everything I feel for Y/N, everything I show her is real,” he places his hand on his chest, rubbing the sweet ache in his core. His features soften and his eyes gloss over. "She makes even scum like me feel human." 

Quentin looks away, cheeks a bit red from the cold. He sighs in defeat, his hot breath vaporizing in the cold air. His facial features are hard to read, firm like a father’s, but his eyes are soft. 

"Promise me you'll keep her happy?” he asks. “That you'll never let her feel alone. She means the whole world to me and if I ever find her hurt or crying and I learn it's your fault? I'm kicking your ass to the sun." 

Steve laughs from the belly and it takes Quentin off guard. "I'm actually somewhat intimidated," Steve smiles at him for the first time that night. "you wanna job in the mob?" 

"Yeah, no thanks,” Quentin quickly denies. 

"I promise you. I'll keep her happy,” he replies with a nod.  “In all honesty, I'm still trying to figure out why she likes me." 

It’s Quentin’s turn to laugh. "Trust me you're not the only one.” 

Steve lips twist into a scowl. "Jerk." 

Quentin’s lips twirl into a smile. "Asshole." 

"So it went well?” you asked Quentin with hopeful eyes. 

"Kinda,” he shrugged, plopping down onto the squeaky couch. "We uh came to an agreement.”

"And what's that?" you sat next to him. 

"Confidential,” he replies, creating a frown on your face. "Now movie time?" he asks, waving the remote. 

"Yeah," you nodded. You cuddle on the couch next to him and rest your head against his arm. He puts on a random movie on Netflix and gets comfy. 

"So you like him?" you asked, looking up at him from the side. 

"No." he deadpanned. "But I'll bear with him for you,” he chuckles quietly and turns to look down at you. 

"Yeah?" you sit up with excitement. Quentin’s lips curl into a languid smile by the way you're beaming at him. 

"Yeah." 

You hug him from the side practically toppling him over, quietly cheering to yourself. "You're great, you know that?” 

Quentin smirks. "I know,” he says nonchalantly with a smirk. 

If you’re happy. He’s happy. 

“How’d you like the movie?” Steve asks, exiting the theater with you beside him. 

“Personally, I think there were way too many old white men in that movie,” you comment. 

Steve chuckles. “You wanted to watch it.” He tucks his hands in his coat pockets and creates a hoop with his right arm letting you slip your arm through and hold onto him. 

“I thought you’d like it,” you reply. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like Little Women.” 

“I like anything you like, sweetheart,” he grins and leans in for a peck on the lips that has your insides melting and a giggling mess.

A gentle breeze flows through your hair while walking towards Steve’s car. 

“So where to now?” you ask. 

“Wherever you want, I’m free for the rest of the day—” Steve cuts himself off when he looks up to see a man leaning against a random car. You tilt your head slightly in curiosity when he stops and catch sight of the man. He’s a bit short with a strange beard. The blonde grumbles. 

Of all the days. 

"Tony, what the hell are you doing here?" Steve asks pointedly.  "You lost or something?" 

Tony chuckles and stands straight. "Actually no, for once I'm right where I need to be,”  he replies, "Spent all day looking for you. All your guys keep telling me you're busy,” he says, "And I guess I found the reason why."  He chuckles, eyeing you down dangerously. Steve pulls you closer to him. 

"What d'ya want?" Steve snaps at him, sharp and firm. Tony’s eyes flit back to Steve. Two minutes and Tony had it all put together. He cocks a brow and his lips twist into the infamously famous cocky grin every man in the underworld knew all too well. 

"I'm in a bit of a bind,” Tony states smoothly, “I've also heard that you're in a little trouble." 

Steve laughs, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm fine,” he denies his statement and walks on, pulling you along with him. "See ya ‘round then,” he waves goodbye. 

Tony grabs a fistful of his coat and pulls him closer (down) to him, "Don't play stupid with me, Rogers,” he jeers, face all up in Steve’s. "I know what you did to the Gambinos and I know Hydra's after your ass." 

Again with all the names you don't understand. 

Steve keeps his composure, he looks down at Tony’s hand grabbing onto his coat, $650 dollars worth of Gucci, and looks back up at him. And you could’ve sworn you saw the other man flinch under his cold stare. "I think you forgot who you're talking to,” His voice was dangerously calm and it had shivers trickling down your spine. "Want a reminder?” 

Tony snorts, letting go of Steve with a gentle push. "C'mon you're not gonna punch me in front of your girl,” he eggs him on. 

"I mean he's done it before," You deadpanned and shrugged, returning Tony’s attention to you. 

Great. 

"Quick question. What's a pretty girl like you hangin' round this thug?" he asks. 

"Fuck off, old man,” you snarled. 

"Oh ho, she's feisty too,” he snickers. Sidestepping Steve, he stands in front of you. A bit too close for your liking. “How about you ditch blondie and spend the rest of the night with me?" he offers. "Come over to Manhattan, baby, you'll be seeing stars when I'm done with y–" 

CRACK!

Steve’s eyes grow wide and his lips part into a circle. He’s left speechless, trying to comprehend what he just saw. 

"Fuck!" Tony shouts. He hunches over in pain, covering his nose with his hands. "You broke my nose!" "You'll pay for that bitch!" 

"Look me in the eye and say that,” you hissed, fist still tight. Tony whimpers in pain, wiping the blood from his nose. Steve starts to laugh at Tony’s expense. “I fucking dare you." 

"See ya around, Tony," Steve bids him farewell. 

Steve tugs you along with him for Tony’s sake. "Wait, I'm not done with him,” you growl, taking a step back.

"Yes you are," he smiles with a tug, "Let's go for some ice cream. Gotta cool you down." 

“I’m fine.” 

“Really, baby? You’re all red,” he places his hand on your forehead with a chuckle. “You’re getting kinda hot.” 

You push his hand away. “Piss off, blondie,” you stomp off towards the car. 

Quality Mrs. Rogers Material 

TAGLIST (CLOSED): @ashwarren32 @siriusement @rootcrop @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha​ @calwitch​ @chuckennuggets1213​ @captainchrisstan​ @thirstybunz​ @littlebees-things​ @voltage-my2dlove​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @miraclesoflove​ @harleyscheekheart​ @allegra-writes​ @iced-capsicle​ @eliza5616​ @bookgirlunicorn​ @fckdeusername​ @booktease21​

#mob!steve rogers x reader #mobster steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #mob!steve #captain america x reader #steve rogers fluff

[sending-the-message]

The Thing On the Side of My House by MrClarenceWorley

I was out with this girl I met through a free dating app and the evening had been going surprisingly well, considering. I had recently moved and was telling her about my new place during dinner when my date commented that she would love to see it sometime.

Imagine my surprise when I jokingly suggested that we stop by on the way to bring her home and she replied with, “That works.”

I pulled up in front of my place just as my date finished detailing her theory about the movie we had seen before dinner. She turned to look at the two-story duplex and nodded.

“Nice… which one’s yours?”

“The left side,” I said and began to open my door.

I felt a hand clamp around my arm as my date suddenly shouted, “Wait!”

“Why, what’s up?” I said, still clutching the driver’s side door handle as I turned to find the girl looking more than a little spooked.

“Who’s that on the side of your house?” she asked, her voice trembling nervously.

“Where?” I replied. Following her gaze, I squinted into the darkness lining the narrow grass alleyway between my duplex and the neighboring house.

Alleyway Photo

“Right there,” she said and pointed a finger at the alley. I peered into the dark for another beat and shrugged. My date glanced back at me and furrowed her brow. “You really can’t see him?”

I shook my head and the girl let out a frustrated scoff as she began to dig through her purse. She retrieved her phone and snapped a picture of the alleyway. She then zoomed into the photo she had just taken and handed the phone to me.

Closer Alleyway Photo

“See?”

It took another beat for my brain to fully process what I was viewing but then sure enough, I DID see. I saw the figure clear as day, standing there against the side of my house. No, not “against”...

They appeared to be sliding THROUGH the brick wall. Here’s a brighter, slightly magnified version of the above photo with the figure outlined in red so you can see exactly what I mean:

Brightened Alleyway Photo

Apparently, taking a picture of it had drawn the figure’s attention and I looked up from the phone to find it was now stomping toward us on oddly jointed legs. As my date saw this, she blindly shot out a hand and grabbed me by the arm again, her eyes fixed on the nearing silhouette.

I started the car and was already shifting into drive as she screamed, “GO! GO! GO!”

We peeled out of there at roughly the speed of sound and once my heartrate had settled enough to let me properly navigate, I drove my date back to her place. She still seemed pretty shaken up as I was walking her to her door and she asked if I would mind sticking around for a little bit, just until she could calm down.

I told her that might not be the best idea, explaining that the figure in the alley appeared to be coming out of the wall connected to my bedroom and if it was after me specifically, then I was the last person she wanted to be around right now.

"Good point,” she replied and hurried inside her apartment before shutting the door and promptly locking it.

I waved at the closed door and said, “I’ll call you.”

I heard her muffled response just as I was turning away…

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

I shrugged as I started back toward the car, muttering, “Fair enough.”

I went to a 24-hour IHOP, where I sat sipping stale coffee until sometime after dawn that next morning. In the cold light of day, I then headed back to the duplex and did a thorough sweep of my place. It appeared to be completely free of shadowy figures, so I went outside and started to walk the length of the alley where we had seen the one from the previous night.

I paused to examine the spot where it had appeared to phase through my bedroom wall. Streaked across the brick surface was a thin black trail of what looked like soot. The substance left a dark red smear across my fingers when I touched it.

As I headed back inside to wash my hands, I happened to glance up at the neighboring house and spotted something that made me halt… There, mounted beneath the rain-gutter, was a small security camera aimed almost directly at the stain on the wall outside my bedroom.

I waited until a more reasonable hour of the day and then headed over to the neighbor’s house, fully prepared to explain what I had seen the night before and ask if I could take a look at the footage from their security camera, but no one came to the door when I knocked.

I glanced inside the porch window and saw a room completely devoid of furniture. The floor was covered in a thin film of dust. There was no car in the driveway and I didn’t remember seeing one in the week I had been living nextdoor.

I asked the couple renting the other side of my duplex and they said they were pretty sure the house had been empty as long as they’d lived there. I then asked if they had a ladder I could borrow.

I used the ladder to get a better look at this mysterious security camera and then, Googling the model number on its casing, I learned that it was a type of cloud-camera that wirelessly transmitted its feed to the internet via a local wifi connection.

After several hours of very uninteresting internet detective work, I finally figured out how to gain access to the account linked to that particular cloud-camera and it was here that things officially went from "sort of weird" to "balls-ass, nuts-to-butts Crazy Town":

The secure profile page I was lead to had several URLs listed which linked to five different camera feeds in total. The one transmitting a live image of the side of my house was the top link and I scanned it briefly before backing out and clicking on the next URL.

Wherever this second camera was located, it had to be inside somewhere. Possibly underground. Definitely someplace dark. I could make out a series of pipes jutting up passed a bulky metal shape that was only partially illuminated by the fractured beam of a very dim overhead light.

I eventually realized that I was looking at some kind of industrial boiler. Just then, the shadows lining the left side of the boiler seemed to shift and my heart began racing until I realized it was just a rat crawling out into the light.

The third link showed me an ancient willow tree draped in Spanish moss. The tree had a massive knot at the center of its trunk that looked large enough to fit a person inside. A strange feeling came over me as I peered into the darkness just beyond the knot’s gnarled oval rim and I promptly closed the window before clicking on the next link down.

The shot from this camera was a lot tighter than the previous ones. Judging from all the black stagnant water and overturned pews littering the frame, I was looking at the dilapidated interior of a partially flooded church. I studied the church feed for a few more moments before closing it and I was about to click on the final link when I realized I had lost control over the on-screen pointer.

For several seconds, all I could do was sit there in stunned silence and watch as whoever was remotely operating my laptop began the process of wiping the entire hard drive.

When I finally snapped out of my stupor, I powered down the laptop and unclipped the battery on the bottom. I tossed the laptop out the window of my car as I was speeding down the interstate a few minutes later. I had no idea where I was going, but I was sure of one thing: there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be sleeping at my house tonight. Or possibly ever again.

I called my best friend Hunter and told him the whole story in one long, breathless monologue. I’m not sure how much of it he actually believed but Hunter could hear the desperate tone in my voice and offered to let me crash at his place. Of course, he had me recount the whole ordeal a second time once I got there.

He definitely didn’t seem anymore convinced when I was done but Hunter could tell that I certainly believed what I was saying, which was good enough for him. That night, after a bit of tossing and turning on the futon in Hunter’s living room, I finally managed to drift off into an uneasy and dreamless half-sleep.

Then, at around 3AM, I suddenly woke for what initially seemed like no reason. I had rolled over in my sleep and opened my eyes to find that I was facing the door to Hunter's Bedroom. The door had been closed when I went to bed. Now, it was open.

Peering through the ajar doorway, I could see that Hunter was also awake and sitting up in his bed. He was glaring back at me, his eyes wide with fear as he mouthed the word…

Run!

A sudden surge of adrenaline sent me leaping up from the futon and I started to sprint toward the exit in what felt like slow-motion. After an eternity of fumbling with the lock on the front door, I finally managed to retract the deadbolt and yanked the door open to find two figures blocking my way.

They were both wearing black hoodies and their faces were hidden behind identical black gas-masks. I had just enough time to think to myself...

What’s with the gas-masks?

One of the figures raised a gloved fist to my face and then opened his hand, releasing a small plume of opaque white smoke directly into my mouth and nostrils and just like that, everything went dark...

When I came to, I still felt pretty woozy and it wasn't until I saw the industrial boiler in front of me that I was able to shake off my residual stupor and force myself to sit up. Everything came back to me then and I realized the figures at Hunter's door must have brought me here, to the same boiler room I had seen on one of their camera feeds.

I turned and scanned the dimly lit space until I spotted the cloud-camera mounted to the wall directly behind me. It was only then that I finally took a moment to contemplate WHY someone would have cameras set up in such a creepy location.

The camera I was currently staring at emitted a sudden whirring sound as it turned to look at something to my left. That was when I finally noticed the heavy thud of approaching footsteps from that same direction.

When the hunched figure shambled out from behind the boiler a moment later, I had just managed to squeeze myself into the gap beneath a low-hanging pipe that spanned the length of the back wall.

I didn’t have the best view of the figure from my hiding-spot but I could see that the large burlap sack they were dragging along behind them was covered in a mosaic of dried blood-splatter.

This sack currently contained what was very obviously a human body and judging by the way it kept twitching, one that wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

A voice that resembled a rusty door hinge spoke a string of what might have been words, though they sounded unlike any language I was familiar with, and then there was this purple flash that was so bright it hurt my eyes.

I turned away for a moment and when I looked back, I glimpsed the figure entering what appeared to be a long corridor composed entirely of writhing tentacles and screaming, lipless mouths…

I blinked and the figure was gone. The industrial boiler had resumed its place where the portal was a moment earlier. I waited another beat just to be safe and then started to worm my way out from under the pipe.

Using the early morning sunlight that had started to filter in from outside, I was able to find my way up to the dilapidated building above the boiler room. The place was what remained of an old grade-school that clearly hadn't been in use for some time.

The first exit I came to was chained shut from the outside but luckily someone had already punched out the window on one of the double doors and I was able to climb through it without much trouble.

I emerged onto the school's overgrown front lawn, feeling suddenly very aware of the fact that I wasn't wearing any pants. An understandable mistake, considering I had forgotten them last night at Hunter’s while fleeing for my life.

Of course, that didn’t make my present situation any less awkward. Luckily, it was then that I heard someone honk their horn and turned to see an ecstatic Hunter waving at me from his car, which was parked in the adjacent lot.

I sprinted over and opened the passenger door to find my jeans lying folded on the seat. I raised both hands in celebration as I saw this and shouted, “My fucking hero.”

On the drive back to his place, Hunter explained how he woke up with a note taped to his forehead that contained the dilapidated school’s address and a message which read:

YOUR FRIEND NEEDS HIS PANTS.

When he saw that my jeans were still there but I wasn't, Hunter started to freak out and immediately drove to the address on the note.

“I was about to go inside and start looking for you when you came stumbling out like that... Just how drunk did we GET last night because I don't remember a goddamn thing.”

Clearly, whoever was behind all this had left me my own message when they abducted me and stuck me down in that boiler room. One that essentially said...

STOP SNOOPING AROUND OR YOU’LL END UP TWITCHING INSIDE A BLOODY BURLAP SACK!

Deal.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 2: Subject

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 2:

Subject

Street lights twitch above me as I walk down the sidewalk, not yet wearing the mask. My black backpack and all my clothes are nondescript, common brands. I wear no watch or jewelry.

This is so that if Mrs. Horatay braves the humiliation and tells someone about tonight, the police won't have good leads to go on. It'd be safer, admittedly, to keep a blindfold on her for the entire time, but that ruins it.

We are making movies here,after all, not just raping. We bring urges and emotions out of our subjects that most humans never get to see in all their lifetimes. The eyes convey a great quantity of that emotion, and I avow to commit as much of it as I can to film.

I gain base sadistic pleasure by doing these things, of course, and I'm able to relive those moments of pleasure by watching the recordings. However, this is also my legacy, and the internet makes it possible for me to share it with the world.

Well, not just the internet. I have a specific person to thank. Mitchol. I was on the school roof, when he showed up.

"You come here too?" And that was how it began. We talked during that lunch break, and many more.

Then one time, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, and gave it to me. "I think this is something you'll be interested in, Jeeto. Check it out after school," he'd said.

On the piece of paper was a URL for a private site called "adesireisfulfilled", and a password.

Later, I went there and logged in. I was greeted by a dark page with 3 red boxes. They were marked as, "Local Files", "Files 2", and "Files 3", respectively.

I clicked on "Local Files", and to my surprise saw Nana, my class rep, naked and hogtied on a blue tiled floor. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing as my eyes traveled over the rest of the thumbnails.

There were picture folders and videos, all of girls from nearby schools being molested, tortured, and raped. I continued to scour the website, getting harder and harder, until it hurt to leave my dick in my pants. I had to take it out and jerk off more vigorously than I ever had before.

The next day, Mitchol met me on the roof. "So, how was it?" He had asked. I knew exactly what he was referring to. I'd responded that it was awesome, and he'd looked pleased at that.

"It might say typical stuff like 'extreme bondage' and 'forced play' for a lose backup cover, but it's all real." He had said with a fiendish smirk.

Then, I remember him chuckling at my agape expression, and saying, "That makes it even hotter, though. Doesn't it?"

He'd then paused and looked at me thoughtfully, before saying the words that changed everything.

"You could do it too, you know."

I'm grateful that Mitchol took the risk of letting me in on this. And he's grateful now too. After all, I contribute just as much as he does.

I begin cutting through some woods that lead to the back of the Horatays' house. I only don my mask once I'm out of view for sure. I don't need anyone associating this thing with me.

I'm almost there when I spot a silhouette crouched down behind a tree. I approach as quietly as I can, but a twig snaps under my foot.

They suck in a quick breath and look back at me. A bit of light from the house catches their face, and I see that it's Kidney, wearing the same kind of mask as I am. I loose a breath, and approach.

"You scared me for a second there," Kidney chuckles.

"You scared the shit out of me too," I say.

He scoffs. "You were careless enough to leave criminal evidence on your shelf, but this scared you? I mean, who would it be other than me anyway?"

"'Who would it be’, eh?" I muse. "That makes me wonder if there are other guys like us around here."

Kidney shrugs. "According to the news, rapes are pretty rare around here. The problems most people worry about are burglaries and drunk driving."

I notice he's holding binoculars. "Were you trying to get a peak through the window?"

"Yeah," he responds. "She's still up in there. It's easier to catch them sleeping, so they won't hear us breaking in as fast and call the cops."

"Did you see if she's in her pajamas or not?"

"Yeah, she's getting ready for bed."

"Good," I say. "Now lets hope she's not an insomniac, or we'll be waiting here for a long time."

"It would've been better not to have to wait at all," Kidney says. "I told you it was kinda early, man. This is so boring. I didn't even bring my Gameboy."

"I guess you were right," I concede. "If you ask me though, it's no shame you didn't bring your Gameboy. Pokemon's like the only thing you have on that. I just can't get how people enjoy that tedium."

"Not 'tedium'. Momemtum," Kidney corrects me. "Sure it takes a lot of hours, but you're always leveling up and getting more Pokemon. It feels like a flow of perpetual progress."

"Boorrring," I drawl. "I'd much rather capture people on film than fake, pixelated animals on a Gameboy."

"Fine, suit yourself," he says, crossing his arms. Just one less asshole I've got to worry about competing with for the latest figures."

"Gimme those for second," I say gesturing towards the binoculars.

"Sure," Kidney responds, and hands them to me.

I squint through a space between the blinds. They've got the big, fancy kind. They're made of wood, and have kind of wide spaces in between them.

I'll take the tight, vinyl mini blinds I have at home over these bloated ass, big money ones, because I can see her sleeping all too well from here.

"Looks like we're in luck," I announce.

"What? She's crashed already?"

"Seems like it," I say, smirking. "Wait here," I tell Kidney as I hand his binoculars back. "And make sure Mrs. Horatay stays in bed while I go in."

He nods and says, "I'll text you pronto if she starts waking up."

With that, I sleuth around the corner to the window of another room. It's still facing the woods, but far enough away to not to wake her if she's an average sleeper.

I push up on the window- locked. No matter. I take the crowbar out of my backpack and, as quietly as possible, use it to pry it open. I flip open my phone.

No text. Jackpot. Screen still bars my entry, but I swiftly and noiselessly dispatch it with a few slices from my pocketknife.

I lift the blinds, thankfully less noisy than vinyl, and look around the room. It appears to be a bedroom that's been designated as an office or study.

What really matters, however, is that the floor is wooden. The open bedroom door is across from me, so I can see that the floor beyond is also wooden.

I click my tongue lightly in annoyance, take off my shoes, and put them in my backpack. I shoot Kidney a text saying, "Window open. Hard floor."

He appears around the corner as I'm climbing inside, and comes in after me. We quietly take out our "capture gear." With me holding the syringe of animal tranquilizer and Kidney holding rope and a gag, we pad down the hallway to Mrs. Horatay's bedroom.

As we approach cautiously, I observe her in peaceful slumber: strands of her mid-length brown hair strewn carelessly and perfectly across her fine features, silky, beige nightclothes covering her hourglass figure, the lines of nipples underneath as her luscious bosom rises and falls slowly.

Once we're close, Kidney pounces. By the time she's seriously started to make a stir, he's already gagged her and roped her wrists. He hops on the bed on top of her, pinning her legs down.

I lean over and plunge the syringe into her neck. I press down with my thumb, and fill her body with the potent chemicals. She only struggles for a few more seconds before falling under and going limp as a corpse.

I heft Mrs. Horatay up, and Kidney helps me stuff her into a large bag with straps. We feed our backpacks and the woman through the forced-open window, exit, and close it behind ourselves. Kidney puts on both of our backpacks, while I carry the woman on my back.

"Where'd you park?" I inquire.

"Just follow me. It's a few blocks down, in a private-ish spot right outside the woods."

We dash through the Horatay's lawn and back under and through the cover of the woods as quickly as we can. Once we reach the end, Kidney holds a hand up to me.

"Wait up. I'm gonna peak out to see if anyone's around."

I stay nervously, my back aching from holding the woman's weight all through the woodland trek. I should probably workout more.

"Okay," Kidney says. He waves me forward, scurries to the rental, gray mini van, and opens its trunk. "Hurry!" He whispers.

I toss Mrs. Horatay in the back, and then hop in the passenger's seat.

He presses moderately on the gas, obeying the low neighborhood speed limit. These speed limits have always annoyed me. You know it's for the dumbass brats running around on the street.

I say let the car engines run, and let natural selection run its course on the crotch goblins that are too stupid to stay off the road. They've all been told before. If they don't listen, why should that be anyone's responsibility except their own?

Once we're out of the bullshit zone, we take off our masks, that way, no one who sees us in the car will pay us any mind.

"This really is a whole lot of work," Kidney says with a sigh, as he presses down on the accelerator.

"I hope you're not thinking of quitting," I say to him.

His response is silence.

"Unlike you," I say. "There's no good sex that exists outside of this for me. Doing it normally over this past month would've been even worse than staying in my room with my hand and porn.

I can't stand either, though. I'd have gone nuts if I had to continue on forever like that."

"All the content on adesireisafulfilled isn't enough to fulfill your desire for this?" Kidney asks.

"That's way different than a real woman," I say. "Besides, I've already watched all the stuff on adesireisfulfilled. I need new content, and the other members need new content too."

"Where there's a demand," Kidney muses. "There's always someone cashing in by supplying. Have you ever wondered how much Mitchol's making off of the members?"

"Huh?" I question. "We don't pay anything."

"Well of course not; we're the suppliers, the content creators. We should be the ones getting paid."

I can sense Kidney's irritation.

"Look," he says. "As far as I know, there are only 5 uploaders on the site. Us, Mitchol, and the other two guys,  Redhand Heriolt and my uncle, Stoulfer. But," he continues,

"Mitchol said before that there are about 600 members. You think they're all friends that he just gave the password out to for free?"

"Probably not," I admit.

"Yeah," Kidney says angrily. "I bet Mitchol's charging registration and membership fees. Maybe he's even charging for access to "premium content."

"But," I argue. "Mitchol's the one who pays the bills to keep the site online. He needs money for that. And for us, well, don't you think the work is its own reward?"

"Maybe for you it is, but that doesn't change the fact that the profits of our labor are being swiped out from under our noses. If I'm gonna keep doing this," he says as he veers onto the obscure dirt road, "It'll be for the full reward."

We put our masks back on and get out of the mini van. Kidney parked in a grassy clearing in the middle of a bunch of wild land. There's a rundown little house here, but the main purpose it serves is to be a distraction.

I go to the edge of the clearing, and move some "fallen" branches and shrubs to uncover the metal door of the underground bunker. I open it, and Kidney carries Mrs. Horatay over from the car.

We walk down the concrete stairs, and I flip on the light. Thanks to the house, it doesn't appear suspicious that electricity is being used in this middle-of-nowhere location. The company and the police would just assume that that's where it's going, I hope.

As Kidney and I set up our filming equipment, he says. "Hey, Jeeto. Check out this new camera and tripod my uncle gave me."

"Wow, it's super tall."

"Yeah, now we can get even better angles. If I set it up here," he says, rolling the tripod in front of the bed, "I can get a top down shot of her tits jiggling and the dick going in and out."

"Top down isn't a favorite of mine," I say. "However, interspersing shots like that would lend a more professional feel to the movies."

"Exactly," Kidney says, then looks over at the bag Mrs. Horatay is in. Moaning comes from it. I can see her weakly squirming around. She's just come to. I rush to grab a camera and start filming.

We leave her in there, allowing her state to progress naturally. Her muffled cries rise from confusion and fear to outright shrieks of panic and terror.

"Heermmmmpphhh!" Mrs. Horatay screams through the loosened gag. She squirms viciously in the bag, rolling and flopping over, her wrists and ankles bound.

Kidney and I both laugh heartily. Upon hearing us, her animalistic flight response slows down somewhat into human diplomacy.

"Hmmm errmm yeourr?" She attempts to speak again through the gag and the bag.

"I think she's asking who we are," I say.

"Well, I guess it's time to get her out of there," Kidney says. He goes over to her, unzips her prison, and pulls it off.

She's shaking violently. Salty tears stream down her face and soak the gag in her mouth as she looks up at the masked Kidney- petrified. I'm reminded of Kidney's earlier comparison of women to rabbits.

I zoom in on her face. Through the window of her eyes, I see the horror of the certainty of doom. Chills prickle up my skin.

"Oh, she looks good," Kidney says, unzipping his pants and freeing his semi-hard dick.

Mrs. Horatay bursts into a noisier fit of tears, pleading incoherently. I put the camera on the tripod, walk over, and finally take the gag off.

"Please, please, please." She says rapidly. "You don't have to do this."

I give her a perplexed look, which she can't see underneath my mask anyway. "I don't know why some of you women say that, like we're doing this out of some solemn sense of duty to you."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" She says, high pitched. "I never... I didn't mean it that way. I'm so sorry."

I laugh. "Looks like we've got an ass kisser over here," I remark to Kidney.

"Even if she wasn't tied up, she might be groveling down there anyway."

"Hmm, I think we can work with this... Hey bitch!" I bark at Mrs. Horatay.

"Ye-yes?" She answers meekly.

I squat down at eye level with her, and pull the knife out of my pocket. When I flip it open, she flinches.

"Hmph," I observe, amused. Then, I grab her by the collar of her silky night shirt, and press the blade up against her neck.

She gasps, and I laugh again. "If you keep shaking like that, I might accidentally cut you." I say this with sarcasm thick enough to let her know that I don't really give an iota of a shit about her well-being.

Then I switch to grave seriousness. "I caught your eyes when they darted around the room a moment ago. It's true-" I dig the knife in, puncturing her skin as I say the next words. "There isn't any way out."

Mrs. Horatay whimpers as tantalizing red blood trickles down her supple neck and stains her beige pajamas. I lick my lips, trying not to pant. She cries out softly as I pull her closer to me by the collar, slicing her skin more.

"And the worst places your mind went, the places it's going now, I could take you there." I feel unbelievable elation from the look on her face, and the fact that the camera behind me is recording it all. I soften my tone a mite.

"You're a smart woman, Mrs. Horatay, so let me do whatever I want to you. It won't even take the whole night."

She nods slowly.

I untie the ropes around her ankles and wrists, and she lies obediently, even once freed of the bindings.

"Stand up," I order her.

She stands nervously.

"Unbutton your shirt."

She swallows, and glances uncomfortably at Kidney, who's lightly stroking his penis.

I wait, a firm object before her. After looking up at my masked face, then back down to my shoes, she begins to undo her buttons. A sheen forms in her eyes.

"Hurry up and take it off," I tell her impatiently.

She pulls the shirt away, exposing her bare body. My eyes feast upon her voluptuous breasts, like ripe fruits hanging heavily on a tree branch. Her eyes widen when she notices my erection, bulging in the front of my black pants.

"Take off your bottoms too."

She slips them off. Pale pick panties with a little red bow in the front. Not very adult-ish, so it's kind of funny.

I step closer to her, and she stays still. I grab and squeeze a handful of her breasts with my left hand, while my right runs down her torso and dives under her panties.

Her pussy lips feel dry under my fingers. I fondle and rub her to my heart's content, then push two fingers inside her. I move them in and out roughly, and she gasps and groans at the painful molestation.

I let up once her body starts reacting, finally making her pussy slick. She looses a breath when I withdraw.

"Go to the bed, take off your panties, and bend over," I tell her.

Mrs. Horatay follows my instructions with a red face. She keeps her legs close together, as if that does anything to preserve her dignity. I can still see her pussy, but I say, "Spread your legs."

Kidney films her face, which must be twisted in shame and frustration.

Her legs open a few inches, and I click my tongue. I slap her on the ass, hard. "Spread them more!"

Tears trickle down her face as she scoots her knees out, splaying her legs enough to make her pussy lips part.

"Yeah," I say, rubbing her cunt and grabbing her ass from behind. "That's what I like to see."

I unzip my pants and whip my cock out. Without warning, I grab her by the waist and line her vagina up with my thrusting dick.

With one fluid motion, I plunge all the way inside her. Mrs. Horatay cries out at the sudden intrusion. Without giving her a moment to adjust, I begin a high tempo pounding rhythm. Kidney fixes the tall camera and tripod to get a better shot of me doing Mrs. Horatay.

I take my left hand off her waist and latch it around her arm. I pull, forcing her back to arch up, and giving the camera a good shot of her bouncing tits.

I lean down slightly while pulling Mrs. Horatay up against myself, then I grab her by her breasts. My nose is inhibited by the mask, but I think her hair smells nice. I would love to get my teeth around her ear or her neck, and bite while I'm thrusting into her.

I increase the force of my movements. The sounds she's making are enough to make me shoot my load all over her back.

"It's my turn," Kidney says. So, gather my bearings and go to man the cameras.

Mrs. Horatay is lying on the bed, shivering in the fetal position.

He climbs on with her, and grabs her by a fistful of hair. She groans sharply as he yanks, twisting her over onto her back.

"Does your husband ever do this with you?" Kidney asks as he sits over Mrs. Horatay's chest and slides his erect penis between her large breasts.

"Hmm?" He pries again as he moves his hips slowly, awaiting an answer.

Her eyes dart down to the head of penis, poking in and out of her cleavage. "N-no..." She says in a soft, broken voice.

"Oh," Kidney says, surprised. He tweaks her pink nipples and squeezes her breasts together around his cock. "That's a shame, because this is great," he tells her, moving faster now.

I make sure one of the cameras is trained on her face. When they talk about rape, they never tell you about the awkward expressions and the not knowing where to look.

The heavier feelings like horror and violation take precedent, but also, being naked in front of and doing sexual things with two complete strangers is uncomfortable, bizarre, and embarrassing for the average woman.

With a satisfied moan, Kidney spurts semen all over her face. Luckily for her, she closes her eyes in time.

While he's recuperating, I make scissors with fingers and put one "blade" in her anus and the other in her vagina. I chuckle when she moans in a whore-like manner.

With a camera zoomed into the action, I thrust my fingers in and out, making sloppy sounds. Once I've filmed enough of that, I lie on the bed on my back.

"Come sit on my lap," I say.

Mrs. Horatay obeys, tired and afraid.

"Show me what you'd do if I was your husband."

She abashedly begins moving her hips, dragging her pussy along my flaccid length to get me hard. Once I'm ready, she lifts herself up, then slowly impales her vagina on my cock. I smirk.

As she rides me, I trail my hands over her thighs and up her tight stomach, to the lovely breasts swaying above me.

I grope them fondly, before leaning up and taking a nipple in my mouth. She moans as my tongue twirls around the soft pink bud.  I suck and clasp her breasts, occasionally nipping with my teeth.

When Kidney comes over, I lie back again and pull her down so that she's lying on my chest. We continue moving together as he spreads her asscheeks.

Mrs. Horatay groans through her teeth, close to my ear, as Kidney pushes his member inside her anus. My dick hardens and twitches inside of her.

"Fuck, she's so tight... and hot," Kidney groans as he struggles to push his cock in and out of her anal cavity. We time our thrusts together. The pressure of his dick on the other side is making her cunt feel even tighter.

"Ahh," I moan. "I'm gonna come again." Mrs. Horatay is whimpering in my ear in pain. There's no way I can hold my come back now that I feel the wetness of her tears on my neck. I cream inside her pussy. Kidney's climax follows soon after.

We put our pants back on. For the final sequence, Kidney gets a vibrator out of his bag.

"Lie back on the edge of the bed and spread your legs," he says to Mrs. Horatay. I lower the height of one of the tripods,  roll it over, and focus the camera on her genitals.

For the next several minutes, Kidney carefully masturbates her. He licks, sucks, and rubs her red little clit while moving the vibrator in and out of her vagina at a steady, moderate pace.

One of the most frequent users on adesireisafulfilled recently left a few comments requesting a "spasm closeup."

So, I guess this is Kidney providing customer satisfaction. Going by what he said earlier, he does plan to get paid, after all.

Kidney finally makes Mrs. Horatay's body climax, forcing a strangled moan from her mouth. I make sure every undulation and twitch of her privates is recorded in perfect focus.

"Alright," he announces once her orgasming has ceased. "That's a rap."

I throw Mrs. Horatay's clothes and a roll of paper towels at her.

"As I'm sure you can tell," I begin as she re-dresses. "Everything that we did has been filmed." She frowns knowingly.

"Can you imagine what would happen if everyone in your life saw this? Your friends, your dad- it could even find the eyes of any future children you might have.

And your husband... some of this looks pretty consensual, you know."

She perks up at that. "Oh yeah," I say, huffing a laugh. "We could only release those parts. Tell me, how good is your relationship with your husband?" I don't wait for an answer before continuing.

"Are you positive he'd take your word that you were forced, against video footage of you on top of me grinding on my dick? Against footage of your pussy spasming in pleasure?"

Her eyebrows are furrowed, and it looks like she's going to be sick. "What do you want me to do?" She questions desperately.

"We want you to keep quiet about this. That's all."

Kidney tosses her the pills and water.

"Is this some kind of birth control?" Mrs. Horatay asks skeptically, examining the bottle.

"Right on. They're good too. Sure to work, with no awful side effects. Take 2 of them," Kidney says.

"No matter how you feel later," I insert, "Be sure to keep on the face you normally wear, and keep up with your usual tasks."

She cautiously twists open the cap and shakes 2 pills into her palm.

"Swig a shot of hard liquor. Sneak a smoke every now and then. Go punch around a bag at the gym. Do whatever you need to do."

Then, I lower my voice. "Just don't let anyone know, or you'll lose everything," I tell her as she swallows thickly.

"Did you know?" I say. "All the cells in our bodies are replaced every 10 years, but we don't say we're new people every 10 years because of that fact.

This is because who we really are is what's inside our hearts. This might sound like bad news for someone like you, so full of pain, shame, and confusion.

But, there are sayings: 'We are who we pretend to be, so we must be very careful what we pretend to be.' And, 'If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.'

If you pretend everything's fine, eventually, it truly will be. The act will transmute from second nature to first before you realize it. And, if you gaze into the abyss of wellness and happiness, those things will reflect back into you."

Mrs. Horatay looks as unconvinced as could be expected, but I go on with the drivel anyway.

"Your heart can be disciplined- molded and changed by your own will. You need only know what your will is. So... do you wish to be a victim?" I ask her.

"Another statistic, a shell being dragged along barren sand through days filled with pity? Do you want to live the rest of your life in the worst moments of your past, with your mind trapped in this bunker forever?"

Her expression is one of disturbance and confusion.

"You might think you have no choice, but that's a lie," I say. "Not everyone who's been belittled must be nothing, and not everyone who's been shoved down must wallow in the mud.

Despite all the media's talk of coming forward and closure, your contentment doesn't have to be chained by being hinged upon things outside of your control. You have the right to live freely from here on out.

You have a right to thrive, to leave the shadows of the past behind in the darkness, and to run straight ahead into the brightness of the future, without inhibition.

Your life is still full of positive possibilities, and the truth is, not a single one can be taken away without your releasing it."

I speak more firmly. "Hanging in the balances now are your marriage, your dignity, and even your identity, because no one would see you the same way if they saw these recordings. You can tip those balances in your favor, easily."

She blinks slowly, clutching her arms with her hands. I let the silence linger for a while until Mrs. Horatay quietly says, "Okay."

I grin, pleased. "I told you didn't I? You're a smart woman."

I actually have no idea what effect these speeches I give have upon the women we rape. They might even be destructive.

All I really need to say is, 'We'll show everyone you know these recordings if you tell anyone about what happened.'

Their minds would do the rest, and do a much better job than I ever could. I guess I just like having someone to rant at for a few minutes.

#kidnapping #crime #filming #movie #homemade movie

[holtzmecloser]

Part 2 

part 1 here

Previously  (and also) 

Johnson: so actually, he DIDN’T know that I knew Sweetie until, well, here let me show you. 

you big fucking dork

fuck

text Johnson. ask for my number.  

Holster jerks up so quickly that he hits his head against Ransom’s bed. he winces, rubbing circles into a tender spot on his skull. His mouth falls open when he rereads the answer. He feels his heart drop out of his chest. 

Johnson. 

Fucking John Johnson knows Sweetie. 

Johnson who knows everyone and their mother (so not as surprising as it should be). But also this is Johnson, who plays with the Las Vegas Aces. Johnson who played a game against the Bruins last December when he could’ve dropped by Epikegster but didn’t. 

Holster’s eyes widen as he remembers Epikegster: how much shit was going around online about Parse showing up out of nowhere. More importantly, he remembers the way Kent spoke and how it left such an impression on him. 

It was like fucking déjà vu. Like they didn’t need to make shitty small talk. He and Kent just--clicked. 

or maybe they clicked a long time ago. 

Maybe he sometimes thinks that Sweetie knows too much about Kent. Or that they get a little too emotional when anyone tries to smack talk Jack, or Jeff Troy for that matter. 

Jeff Troy, the liney and best friend of Kent Fucking Parson. 

Holster closed mouth screams. Because he wasn’t ready for this next shit. He was expecting maybe rejection or some casual chirp about coming off anon. Not that Holster would’ve fessed up if Sweetie (Kent?) hadn’t figured out it was him on their own. 

Slowly, he gets out of bed. He paces the room, wringing his hands nervously. What is he even supposed to do with this information? What was there to do about finding out that one of his best friends could want him back? And that maybe whatever complex feelings he has for Sweetie’s interpretation of Kent aren’t misplaced affection because Sweetie IS Kent. 

Holster sighs. Well, at least he knows for sure that’s he’s liked a grand total of three people in his life: Perry, Ransom...and now Sweetie. He keeps pacing. He glances up at Ransom’s bed, which is vacant because he’s staying at March’s tonight. 

He needs advice, and he sure as fuck can’t ask Perry right now. He heads downstairs, hopping someone’s home. Maybe not Bitty; who knows what he might say about Holster having a multi-year crush on a person he MAY have met previously in real life? 

Who the fuck was he kidding? How else would Sweetie know Johnson? 

He creeps down the attic staircase gently. Cautious of waking up anyone already asleep. He spots Lardo’s door, half open with light flooding outward. He approaches slowly, knocking the door a few times before pushing it further open. 

Lardo’s sitting in her beanbag chair, typing. “What’s up?” she asks absent minded. 

“I think I fucked up,” he says. 

“How?”

“I think I’m in love? Maybe?”

“With who?” 

“Kent Parson,” he confesses. 

Lardo’s back tenses. Her head snaps up. “What?”

Holster runs a hand through his hair, he starts pacing. “I don’t know. It’s fucking confusing but we don’t talk like friends ok? We’re fucking domestic and supportive of each other. And maybe that’s just what friends fucking do. But I’ve never seen you and thought ‘I would spend the rest of my life doing whatever to just be around her.’ No offense.” 

“None taken,” “but maybe back up a little? How are you friends with him?”

“Them,” Holster corrects without thinking. He opens his mouth to take it back because the last thing he needs is to out-- 

“Ok cool,” Lardo says nuetrally. “Duly noted. Now spill.” 

She gestures to the desk chair to her right. Holster reluctantly sits, knowing it’s more for Lardo’s sanity than anything. He starts from the beginning: being bored, his tbi and how he wanted somewhere to get his frustration out once he was cleared for screens, his unlikely friendship with a bnf who acted so completely different than what Holster was expecting, their closeness and the only times they’ve gotten into arguments (which has mostly been lately). He suck in a huge breath once he’s done. 

Lardo nods thoughtfully the entire time, resting her chin in her hands. 

“So are you gonna call them?”

“I don’t know,” he says. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not the same when Sweetie’s more than just a url. It’s real.”

“They were always a real person,” Lardo reasons. 

“You know what I mean,” Holster grumbles. 

Lardo sighs. “Holster, you wanted your ex? Well they’re taken. You wanted Ransom? Well he’s taken. You wanted Kent Parson and Sweetie AND they happen to be the same person and want you back? Bro.” 

“Yea, yea,” he says with resignation. “Don’t get in the way of my own happiness. Got it.” 

“Not just that,” she says. 

“Then what?”

“Don’t chicken out because you’re scared.” 

Holster snorts. “Scared of what?”

“You tell me,” she says neutrally. 

Holster stares at his hands. He remembers the first time he ever talked to Sweetie. They were arguing because Sweetie told them to stop being a dick with all the anon messages he’d been sending them. It wasn’t the first time he’s hurt Sweetie without meaning to. He can’t do that anymore, not to them. 

“You ever hear two sides of the same story?” he asks instead of answering. 

“Chyeah,” Lardo agrees. 

“You ever hear the second story and think ‘fuck, I had no clue. what the fuck am I supposed to do now?’” 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m scarred that I’ll disappoint them at best,” he admits. “Maybe I’ll fuck them up more. I don’t think--”

“Holster,” Lardo interupts. “You’re getting worked up about shit that might not happen.”

“But what if it does?” he demands. 

“What if it doesn’t?” 

His jaw goes slack. If he doesn’t fuck Kent up--if he and Kent could just be happy? He sees Kent’s face, maybe it’s tomorrow or next month or five years from now, just smiling back at him. 

That’s worth everything, he thinks. 

Holster gets up, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Lardo calls after him. 

“I need to see a man about a sweetie,” Holster yells as he heads downstairs. He puts on a hoodie and pair of sneakers. He runs until he gets to the pond, finding a dry patch of grass to sit down on. 

He stares at his phone again, the clock reads just after midnight. He might be too late...for talking tonight at least. But he has to try. He scrolls through his contacts, clicking on a J with a goalpost next to it. 

Holster wheezes, wondering if excitement smells like sweat or maybe something soft and sweet. He wonders what water smells like, or Kent for that matter. He grins to himself as he clicks call. Maybe he’ll have time to figure that out. 

“Hey Holtzy,” Johnson says after the second ring. “Took you long enough, man.” 

Holster chuckles to himself. “No kidding.” 

#ooc #scene post #post

[cptsdgavino]

Hello everyone happy Mother’s Day weekend time to do the thing most of you follow me for and live up to my url, and write some terrible fahc Gavin centered hurt/comfort I guess! Warnings: child abuse, alcohol, ptsd, vomit, fahc violence (??)

 For their reputation, the fake ah crew is horribly domestic. Disgustingly domestic in fact. 

  Michael can name dozens of times he’s walked in on Gavin and Jeremy arguing over who could eat the most cheese-its in a minute, or Jack and Geoff cuddling and reading together on the couch, and there’s something to be said about the feeling he got seeing the Vagabond of all people washing their dishes. 

Michael, likes to have his most personal domestic conversations siting on the kitchen counter while someone messes around in the kitchen listening to him. 

“She thinks someone’s living in our attic” 

 Geoff stops, a few bottles of liquor teetering dangerously on top of one another in his hands, “what the fuck do you mean” 

 Michael shrugs, “it’s Lindsay! She thinks some homeless guy is just hangin out, eating beans in our attic!” 

 Geoff moves again, hiding the bottles behind some cleaning supplies under the sink, when he stands back up he looks at Michael, “We don’t have an attic” 

 “I know that! For whatever reason she doesn’t believe me!” 

 “She knows what’s above your room it’s a pool, there’s a pool on our roof and not a single room in between our penthouse and the pool. I would know.” He grabs a few more bottles 

 “What the fuck are you doing, Geoff?” Michael asks. 

 Geoff looks down at his hands and sighs, “It’s May.” 

“Oh…” Michael says quietly, hopping off the counter, “let me help you.” 

 “Hey Gav buddy, are you doing ok?” 

 Gavin jumps a little in his chair, “What? Yeah I’m fine I just gotta finish this then we can go out, okay?” 

 Michael looks at Ryan, and Ryan walks away from Gavin, a little defeated. 

“Where are you taking him?” Michael says softly to Ryan. 

 Ryan smiles, “We’re just going out to dinner, but you know him we’ll probably end up going dancing or robbing a bank or something.” 

 “Two very different activities” 

 “Anything to keep his mind off of it, you know?” Ryan sighs. 

 Michael lowers his voice, “Meg said she’s flying Dan over as a surprise in a few days,” Ryan smiles big, Michael continues, “as long as he doesn’t have an emergency he should be here day after.” 

 “Day after?” Ryan sighs again, “we have to get him through day of?” 

 “It’s not like we haven’t before, Ryan” Ryan shifts nervously, “I know, but I feel like we’re less prepared this year.” 

 Michael groans, “Don’t say that! You’ve jinxed it!” 

 “Fuck” 

 “Hey, what are you lads talking about and why wasn’t I invited?” Gavin pushes his way past Michael into Ryan’s arms. 

 Michael crosses his arms, “You weren’t invited cause you’re a prick and we didn’t want your opinion.” 

 Gavin smiles, and Michael let’s out a quick breath of relief, “Awwwww, Michael boi! Don’t be like that. You have to be nice to me it’s my birthday soon!” 

 “Yeah that’s the only reason we have to be nice to you,” Michael laughs and Ryan looks at him panicked. 

 But Gavin starts to laugh harder, gasps out a little “that’s fair, boi” and Michael smiles triumphantly at Ryan. 

 Ryan rolls his eyes and kisses Gavin quick, “Let’s go Gav, we have a busy night.” 

 “Bye boi!” Gavin calls as Ryan leads him out the door, “see you later!” 

 When the door clicks, Michael pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Ryan that says very simply “seriously don’t let him drink tonight I swear you jinxed it be careful” 

 Ryan texts back “I didn’t jinx it” 

Ryan jinxed it. 

 Despite all their efforts, despite Geoff and Jack’s years of practice, Saturday night rolled around and Gavin was nowhere to be found. 

 “It’s not even Mother’s Day yet we can’t be too worried” Jeremy says. 

 Jack turns to glare at him, “That’s not an excuse for you losing him”  

Jeremy puts his hands up, “I didn’t lose him if I didn’t know I was supposed to be watching him!” 

 Jack rolls her eyes at Jeremy and sits down next to Geoff, head in her hands. Geoff absentmindedly starts to rub circles on her back and if Michael wasn’t so worried he’d think it’s sickeningly adorable. 

 “You’re all supposed to be watching him that’s the rule, Jeremy. You’ve been here for like three years,” Meg sighs and leans into Michael’s arms. Even with the illusion of calm on her face he can feel her heartbeat racing. “I can’t believe you lost my suicidal boyfriend,” she says quietly. 

 “Not suicidal as far as we know,” Geoff says, “just massively triggered and probably dangerous to himself and others.” 

 “Great, Geoff” Michael says sarcastically, “real helpful” 

 Geoff glares at Michael, “I’m sorry would you prefer me to have a panic attack because my idiot son is probably drunk facedown in a ditch because his actual family decided it was a good idea to hit him? Cause I’ll do it.” 

 “Please don’t” Jack mutters. 

 “It’s only been an hour or so,” Jeremy says “he couldn’t have gone far” 

 “He didn’t,” Ryan says, walking into the room. 

 “Excuse me?” Geoff says. 

 “I found him,” Ryan says, “he’s just locked himself in the bathroom, why didn’t anyone check the house first?” 

 Meg pushes herself out of Michael’s arms, “You’re all fucking idiots,” she snaps, then runs to the kitchen to find something to open the door. 

 “I’ll talk to him,” Michael volunteers, Geoff nods and follows him out. 

 When they reach the bathroom door there isn’t really any sign Gavin’s even in there until Michael knocks quietly. 

 “Leave me alone, Ryan” Gavin’s little warble comes in response. 

 “Boi? it’s me,” Michael says gently “Can I come in?” 

 “Leave me alone, Michael” this time he’s louder, and very clearly slurring his words, Geoff sighs heavily. 

 “Come on, boi,” Michael says, “I’m not mad at you, I just want to make sure you’re ok?” Gavin groans in reply. 

 “Gav come on you know me, I’ll even lock the door behind me until you’re ready to come out, just you and me we’ll be in a little bubble? Okay?” 

 For what feels like years there’s no response, long enough for meg to show up with a lock pick, a crowbar, and teary face. Geoff just pulls her to the side and shushes her. Eventually there’s a small click from the doorknob and Michael looks surprised back at Geoff. Geoff, with his arm wrapped around Meg, nods at Michael and Michael nods back understandingly before slipping inside the dark bathroom and locking it behind him just like he promised. 

 As his eyes adjust he can see Gavin sort of come into view, laying curled up in the empty bathtub, bottles of liquor fallen on the floor and a few lined up on the rim of the bathtub. 

 Michael smiles at him, “Geoff didn’t do a good job hiding them this year did he” 

 Gavin, smiles up at him, Michael can see he’s been crying, and his heart breaks just a little. “It would help if he- bloody didn’t keep ‘em in the same spot each year wouldn’t it?” Gavin slurs. 

“Move over you fuckin alcoholic let me come cuddle” Michael says, squishing himself into the bathtub with Gavin. Gavin laughs a little bit as Michael gently elbows him, it’s a broken laugh, like he can’t bring himself to laugh completely. By the end of all the shuffling somehow Gavin’s on top of Michael, his head resting sort of on Michael’s shoulder, their hips pressed together, legs tangled. 

 “There,” Michael says, and Gavin lets his head fall against Michael’s. His breathing is shaky, Michael can feel it. The two of them just sit quietly together for a while, Gavin hiccuping quietly against Michael and Michael’s thumb absentmindedly rubbing comforting circles on Gavin’s bicep. 

 “M'sorry boi,” Gavin mutters quietly. 

 “Hey hey,” Michael says, and Gavin picks up his head to look at him better, “don’t say sorry, okay? You don’t need to, I get it” 

 “It’s every damn year” Gavin’s voice breaks. 

 Michael smiles, “Yeah that’s what holidays are” 

 “That’s not what I mean,” Gavin starts to tear up, starts wiping angerly at his eyes, “every year I feel like this every year I want to drink until I die and I scare you and Meg and Geoff and Jack and everyone! Every damn year!” 

 “It’s okay, Gavin” Michael whispers, masking the shake in his voice. 

 “It’s not,” he’s crying now, hot tears spill over his eyes and stream down his face,

 “It’s not okay, it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair!” 

 Michael chokes back a sob, “I know, boi” 

 “I just-” he hiccups again, his entire body shakes, “she did this to me. My own fucking mother. And I’m supposed to be thankful?” 

 “You’re not-” Michael starts to say but Gavin cuts him off 

 “She hated me. I hear her scream at me still it’s in my head it’s always been I’m a worthless, stupid, lazy arsehole who will never be anything other than that. I’m a liar and disrespectful and that’s all I am and look at me it’s all I still am I made a damn living out of it!” Michael watches him cry, there’s nothing he can do now. 

 “She hit me for lying. It’s all I do now and I’m good at it because she would hit me whenever I got caught. Tell me I wouldn’t get hit if I just told her the truth, right? God forbid I do that and have her hit me for the truth.” 

 Michael moves his hand up to wipe some tears off of Gavin’s face. 

 “I’m supposed to be thankful. Every commercial every billboard ‘say thanks to your mother this mother’s day for taking care of your awful disgusting arse! Appreciate all she did for you!’ It’s a little overwhelming don’t you think? You know, considering she didn’t fucking love me.” 

 “Gavin-” Michael tries to comfort him, but his voice breaks. He’s crying too he realizes, it’s too hard not to. 

 “It’s all my fault too” Gavin sobs, “if I was just better if I didn’t lie if I just tried harder she’d love me… she would.” 

“Shut up,” Michael cries, gently holding Gavin’s face in his hand, “shut up you know that that’s not true” Gavin looks at him, shuts his eyes tight. “She doesn’t matter anymore Gavin, she’s not here. You have Jack and Geoff now and they’re not joking when they call you their kid, alright? They love you, no trying, no lying none of that involved, okay?” Michael takes in a shaky breath, “Besides this week isn’t even England’s Mother’s Day it’s America’s. You already missed yours.” This time Gavin doesn’t laugh, just lets his head fall into Michael’s shoulder, 

“It’s not fair” he says quietly 

 “It’s not,” Michael replies, “and you don’t have to be thankful for her, ever.” 

Gavin takes a shaky breath, “I want her dead” 

“Next time I’m in England, I promise” Michael smiles. 

They fall into silence, Gavin’s still crying. He cries quietly into Michael’s shoulder, hiccups occasionally and Michael squeezes him tighter with every jolt. 

Any time he gets louder Michael tells him it’s okay, kisses his head, let’s him cry as much as he needs. Michael’s arm is numb by the time Gavin calms down enough to talk again. 

 “Hey Michael boi?” He whispers.

 Michael kisses his dumb bleach blonde hair, “Yeah Gav?” 

 Gavin laughs weakly, “I’m gonna vom” 

 Michael laughs and sits him up in the tub, “Okay but probably not in here ok, come on let’s get you the four feet to the toilet!” 

Michael pushes as hard as he can to get out from under Gavin and out of the bathtub. He grabs Gavin’s arm and pulls him towards the other end of the small room, “Up up lets go I don’t want to be puked on!” 

 Gavin makes it to the toilet, empties his entire stomach, and when he’s all done he curls himself around Michael, hanging on to him like a little kid. Michael would hate it if it were any other situation; Gavin’s hot, smells like vomit and is practically vibrating he’s shaking so much. But Michael clings just as tight to his best friend as he clings to him. 

 Eventually Gavin stops shaking so much, his muscles relax, and Michael breathes a sigh of relief. 

 “Boi?” Michael whispers against Gavin, Gavin hums in response, “I’m gonna go give you to Geoff now ok? He’s a lot better at taking care of you than I am and I’m sure he’s really worried. Is that okay?” 

 Gavin nods into Michael’s shoulder, and he lifts them both up off the floor, legs wobbly. He leads Gavin out of the bathroom, his eyes are far away and he doesn’t look quite like himself anymore. 

Its dark in the hallway now, Meg and Geoff are sitting on the floor a little ways down, they practically jump up to greet Gavin. Meg reaches him first, wraps her arms around his torso and kisses every part of his face she can reach. Gavin smiles a little bit and leans away from Michael to hug her back, whispering he loves her. 

  When she lets go gently, she picks up Gavin’s bunny off the floor of the hallway and presses it into his arms. Like clockwork Gavin presses his face into his stuffed animal and lets out a sob, his legs wobble and Michael catches him. Michael leads Gavin past a teary eyed Meg, right into Geoff’s arms. Gavin basically falls into him, and Geoff holds him tight, already crying into his hair. 

  Michael backs up, grabs Meg’s hand. He watches as Geoff peppers kisses all along Gavin’s forehead and hair. Michael can see even from where he’s standing that Gavin melted into Geoff’s touch. Meg squeezes Michael’s hand and Michael looks at her. 

 “Thank you” she whispers. 

 “Course,” Michael whispers back, “he’s my boi, I love him.”

#kit writes #haven't in a long fuckin time wow have fun #fake ah crew #fahc gavin #turnfreewood #child abuse / #ragehappy #fahc michael #my stuff

[willalogy]

Weddings are No Place to Fall in Love: a Captain Swan au

or, an au where Emma is the maid of honor, Killian wears too much black, Mary Margaret is very much pregnant, and David just likes to eat.

           This is ridiculous. She can’t even believe she’s even about to dial a number she found written on the bathroom wall of her favorite pizza place.

           Screw David and Mary Margaret. Screw their stupid fairytale wedding in their stupid vacation location. Come on. A vacation wedding in a place called The Enchanted Forest? Get real.

           She sighs indignantly, taking a long gulp of her beer. She’s going to need a little liquid courage if she’s gonna get through the next ten minutes.

           She could just go alone, couldn’t she? Admit the whole I-have-a-devastatingly-handsome-fiance thing was a lie. God, no. She couldn’t back out now. Especially when the truth was so much harder to face: that her ex-fiance, Walsh, had fled to California with some leggy brunette. And, really? What was she supposed to do? Show up and come clean, like some regretful sixteen year old? No.

           She was Emma Swan; Emma Swan did what she had to do, and that’s that.

            Downing the rest of her beer, she dialed the number. Three, four, then five rings went by before the line went dead.

           Emma lets out an irritated huff. She should’ve known better. Of course the number was fake! Did she actually believe that a number written in the bathroom of Robin’s Pizza could help her? This was New York, for crying out loud! Nothing ever written on a bathroom wall could mean something good.

           It’s not until half an hour later, when the dishes are done and her apartment cleaned up, that  her phone pulses against the table Walsh bought her for Christmas.

           Taking a long sip of her beer, Emma picked up the phone.

           “Ruby’s Hotline. With whom am I speaking?” A girl; early twenties, maybe.

           “Emma Swan. I have a … situation, I guess.”

           “Don’t we all, Emma? Explain the situation for me, can you? I’m Ruby.”

           “Well, Ruby, it’s like this: it’s my best friend’s wedding in a month and I kinda sorta maybe said I had a super hot fiancé because I totally wasn’t jealous she found someone before me.”

           Well, when Emma puts it like that, she can almost realize how screwed she is.

           “Wow. That is a situation.”

           “You could say that again.”

           “Okay, Emma. I think I’ve got just the thing: an escort.”

           The chug Emma took from her beer gets lodged in her throat.

           “A what?” she sputters.

           “An escort. You know, hiring someone to be your ‘super hot fiancé’?

           “Pretty sure that’s illegal, Ruby.”

           “Dirt under the rug, Em!” Ruby sang.

           Emma sighed; something she had been doing too much lately. Stupid Walsh and his affair.

           “And…and what would this, companion, do?” she asked nervously.

           “Escort. Emma, don’t sound so scared! It’s not like prostitution.”

           “Ruby, I’m paying good money for a man to provide me his services. Tell me again how I’m not entering a prostitution ring.”

           “So you’re at least considering it? Great! Do you got a computer by you, by chance?”

           “I do, but Ruby, I’m confused. How is this gonna work?”

           “Just enter the URL I’m texting you into your search engine, okay?”

           Emma follows. While her screen is loading, she chats with Ruby long enough to know she’s a twenty year old dedicated to helping others with their problems. Emma could never do something like that, but props to Ruby, she supposes.

           “Do you see the blue tab? If you click on it three times, it’ll take you to profiles of some guys to that are, uh, available.”

           “Yep and yep.”

           “Do you like what you see? What kind of guys are you into?”

           “I don’t know, if I’m honest.”

           “I think I may have just the guy, then, Emma.” 

            Emma can hear the click-clacking of Ruby’s fingers against her computer board. Seconds later, Emma’s laptop dings with a notification.

           “I am not bringing a date whose last name is Whale.”

           “Ew, no. I sent the wrong one. Give me a sec,” Ruby rushes.

           “Okay. What about this one?”

           Well, okay, then.

           The first thing Emma notices are his eyelashes; long and dark - just as dark as the messy, windswept hair on the top of his head. An attractive head at that, too. Then it’s his eyes: bluer than the clearest ocean and full of mystery. He wasn’t even smiling in the picture, but Emma could already tell he had perfect teeth.

           He was perfect for a distraction.

           “Emma? You okay there? Killian is quite the looker, but he does like to flirt. I think you may be better off with a more permanent suitor, like Whale.”

           No. Emma wanted that one.

           “Killian is a weird name, but I’ll bite,” she says, skimming over his profile.

           “Sure thing, Em. I’ll text you the info and let Mr. Jones take it from here!”

           “Yeah. Thanks, Ruby. I owe you one.”

           With a few formalities and the payment information forwarded, Emma hangs up, sinking back into the couch. She’s crazy! Did she really think she could fool Mary Margaret into thinking that Jones was her fiancé? He better be a damned good actor, because Mary Margaret could read Emma better than no other.

           It’s there, in the midst of falling asleep in her favorite red jacket, that Emma realizes something she’s never admitted to anyone: she’s lonely.

           Maybe this Killian could take that away, even if temporarily.

well,,,,, here this is? it’s midnight and i just watched all six ouat seasons on netflix and i’m such cs trash send help 

TAGS: @willatree 

#about me #not kk #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fanfiction #weddings are no place to fall in love #willalogy original