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atinywhore · 2 years

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chapter 1

ateez x reader

word count: 2873

warnings: violence, use of knife, swearing, a pathetic man but what man isn't pathetic am I right? , mentions of previous abuse, drugging?

an: this chapter one to my mafia series. this will turn into a yunho x reader over time but its gonna be a slow burn typa thing ;p. I have been dying to write this and get it posted and share with the world! please be kind, give lots of love and enjoy you dirty hoes:)

p.s: I'm getting this ins just in time for yunho's b-day! SO happy birthday to our puppy! I love him and dear god I hope none of them know about fan fiction and how crazy we all are lol

also lol I have playlist that I wrote this too... if you'd like to listen to it lmk and maybe I could drop the link..

tag list: @ch0isa99ie @mingigoo @ateezinmymind @wickeddarkness-place @whatudowhennooneseesyou @teezers99 @mirror-juliet @spiderlilyfics

edited 01/12/24

The sound of bone crunching and the metallic smell of blood flooded my senses, drawing me from my swirling thoughts. “Do you know how much you owe us old man?” The newly opened cut bleeds, the bright red liquid now running down his cheek and onto his ripped wife beater. Stuttering in fear at the man wielding the knife in front of him, trying to get his response out. “Huh? Can’t fucking speak now? How about I take out your tongue, then you really won’t be able to.” I see my brother grab the old man’s tongue and pull it from his mouth. “Enough W. We need him to be able to talk. For now.” He stops, just as the steel is about to cut off the muscle. Stepping closer to the disgrace of a man before me, his dirty brown eyes follow my movements, growing even wider with fear as I am now merch inches from him.

“My brother tells me that you owe one of our casinos a rather large sum.” I gesture back to my other brother, Y, who is casually leaning against the metal beam of some warehouse we are in. “He has also informed me that you have had plenty of notices and still have outright refused to pay what we are owed.” The man begins to sputter out apologies and excuses, pleading for his life. “If you can’t pay… then you have two options, old man.” His eyes, now white with fear. “Option one, you die.” The man began to cry when the word “die” left my lips. Scoffing, I kick my boot out and it connects with his shin. The faint crunch of bones is almost like music to my ears. He screams out in curses and pleas for this torture to be over. “Option two, you pay upfront with an equal or better value of your existing debt.”

30 minutes go by of nothing but continued sobs and empty promises, I am starting to get fed up with this man. “Okay since you don’t have anything of value to offer as payment, I guess there’s only one option left..” I can see the material of the light gray sweatpants the man is wearing grow dark around his crotch and then being hit with the stench of piss. “No- no please! I’ll give you anything you want but please-PLEASE don’t kill me.” W comes back over to the man from where he was standing and crouches down until they are at eye level. “We have already determined that you have nothing we want, old man.”

He frantically searched his mind for some way to keep him from his death sentence but he seemed to come up blank. Thoroughly annoyed now with this pitiful excuse of a man I looked towards W, clearly itching to get his hands dirty, I nod, giving him the signal to do what he does best. I watch him stalk towards his prey, his eyes black as the suit I’m wearing. Knowing what’s going to happen next, I make my leave, not wanting to stain my new suit.

“Please, please you have to spare me! I can’t die! I have little ones to take care of!” W laughed. I heard the man scream out in pain as the knife tears apart the man’s skin. “We know everything about you.” Not turning around to face the scene behind me. “We know where you live and work. We know how much money you make every year and how much of it you blow at our casinos. We also happen to know that you have one daughter who is 20, so don’t bother trying to lie to us.” It’s almost as if I can hear the wheels turning in his head, the rusty cogs scraping against each other like it’s been years since he last thought something through. “Wait!” I almost debate not stopping and keeping going. But, curiosity takes over and I turn back to the bloody man before me. “Take her.” I go hot with anger. “You are even more pathetic than I thought you were.” I can feel Yeo's presence to my left, also curious at the man’s offer. “P-Pplease, she's young and good-looking. I’m sure she could fill any… needs you might have for her.” I couldn’t help but let out a laugh at this scum in front of me. “So what you're telling me old man, is that you would rather your child be used, in every possible way by my brothers and me instead of you paying for your debt?” I circle the man who has now gone pale, either from the loss of blood or from the situation he is now in. I stop next to W and he hands me the knife. The handle is now sticky with the dried blood, the cool gray steel is painted with spots of dark brownish-red blood. I take the tip of the blade and press the point to my middle finger, holding the weapon on display for the quivering man before me.

The 8 of us are brothers by choice not by blood. We found each other at our worst, tackling our demons together, to become the most powerful men in all of Aurora. No one can hurt us anymore, as long as we have each other.

One of my elder brothers and our leader, Hong Joon, is the fiercest of us all. He is the man who rules the other 7 of us, running the entire city of Aurora simultaneously. Our leader is the glue that holds us all together, making us a family.

We keep our leader a mystery to the public, so in his stead, I have become the face of our company and the worst fear to anyone within the boundaries of our city. My name, Yunho, has replaced The Boogeyman. My name, never spoken. Like by just saying my name, might summon me.

There is one other boss excluding Hongjoon and myself, Seonghwa. He is just as bat shit crazy as the rest of us but he keeps the most level of headed, taking into account the reality of our decisions.

The direct responsibilities of our control are divided and handled by the rest of my brothers. Yeosang runs all the gambling, strip, and nightclubs.

San is in charge of acquiring and handling the maintenance of the entirety of our real estate.

Mingi runs interference between law enforcement, making sure there isn’t anything that could cause drastic repercussions to our rule.

Wooyoung is the craziest. He finds and supplies us and all of our men with weapons of all different kinds. He has connections with everyone and next to me he is the most feared of us all, but we rarely let him off his leash, or else a lot of people could get hurt.

Lastly, Jongho, the strongest of us all, controls every soldier under our payroll, ensuring their loyalty by any means necessary. He hires the best and trains the worst to beat the best.

“I’m going to repeat myself once again.” I drag the knife across his collarbone and shoulder blades as I continue to circle him slowly. “You would rather your daughter suffer for your negligence than yourself?” I stop in front of him and look down at the man. A bright red line now dominated the man’s clavicle, no doubt rounding to his back. The man's face is now slack, trying to fight against the pain. My knife now stopped above his heart. I press the blade deeper into his muscle. His face contorts and he finally answers “Yes, I would rather you take her than I die! She is a useless daughter anyways.” He screams out as I press further into his skin, bloodstains his beater. I can feel the muscle separating from itself as the knife glides deeper into his chest. I rip the knife from the man's chest causing him to scream out. “Wooyoung take care of him but don’t kill him, for now.” Yeosang follows me out of one of our many warehouses, leaving Wooyoung to do this thing.

Hongjoon is waiting for us in his office when we get back to the loft. We handle all of our business at a location separate from where we live. We try to keep the work away from home as much as we can, but sometimes it’s unavoidable, like the situation we were just called into. I was not supposed to be called out today, but Yeosang brought the man's immense debt to our attention and my appearance became necessary.

“How’d it go Yunho?” Hongjoon said without looking up from the stack of papers in front of him. He looked so regal in this state. His royal blue suit without a single wrinkle or flaw. His jacket was unbuttoned showing the thin white button-down underneath, not a single thread out of place. He is the best of us and he always makes sure to look it, even if no one but us sees him. “Are we getting our money?” He looks up and leans back in his chair, leather groaning against his movement, and folds his hands in his lap.

“What do you think?” I plop down into one of the chairs facing his desk. “The man was practically pissing himself when I made it clear how things work with us.” Yeosang sits down in the chair next to me, elbows resting on his knees as he blows out a long breath. “He told us to take his daughter as payment.” The heels of his hands press into his eyes.

My brother Yeosang has always had a soft heart. He looked the girl up in the car ride back to the office. Y/n, 20 years old, an only child and now working multiple part-time jobs to support herself and her father. Her mother died when she was only 8 and according to the multitude of hospital reports, her mother was beaten and sexually assaulted often. He didn’t have the heart to look at the massive list of hospital reports for Y/n, no doubt matching her mothers.

Hongjoon tries to hide his shock when Yeosang pulls out his phone with her life story. We see a lot of things, but not when it comes to this type of situation. We are in foreign territory here. “How I see it is that we have two options.” Hongjoon tears his eyes reluctantly away from the phone, no doubt admiring the photo provided of the girl.

My stomach turned and my palms sweat when I first saw her picture. How could such a beautiful woman grow out of such horrendous circumstances? The pixels that made up this godly woman made every hair stand on my body and this tremendous urge came to pull her from the darkness and protect her. I shoved the phone back into Yeosang’s hands and moved away from those thoughts, I had to. I can’t go down that road again. “Our first option is to just kill the man and leave her to pay off her father's debt.” I can see Hongjoon’s eyebrow furl with hesitation, the break-in in his neutral expression. He too has been hooked by the girl. “Or we take the girl as his payment and make the man suffer for his cowardice.” Yeosang shakes his head in agreement with my second option and Hongjoon too agrees, now we just need the rest of the family to agree.

The night shift at the diner was the worst. I always get stuck with the graveyard shift because I’m the new hire. I haven’t had a single customer come in for almost two hours. I have already cleaned, stocked, and prepped everything for my relief to come in, but that won't be for another 3 hours. I won’t have much time before I need to get to the bar to pull a double.

I’m sitting in one of the booths, rereading my favorite book when I notice headlights pulling into the parking lot. Marking my place, I get up and make my way over to the counter to grab my notepad. I can’t help but yawn as I stretch out my stiff muscles. The bell rings and the click of footsteps quickly fills the diner, drowning out the soft pop playing in the background. “Hello, welcome to Granny’s-” I can’t manage to finish my sentence as I turn around to see 4 expensive-looking men looking around the diner. All have their heads turned but the tallest, his eyes are locked on mine.

The purple and blue fluorescents highlight his features from the fullness of his lips to the darkness lurking in his eyes. He fixes the gold cufflinks at the ends of his sleeves slowly and my attention is drawn to the full length of the man before me. His broad shoulders, lean torso, and legs are covered in a well-fitted black suit. His large hands move to the buttons of his jacket. The black pristine shirt underneath hangs from his frame. Not only does he scream beauty but the way he’s looking at me has my senses heightened and muscles tighten, ready to run at a moment's notice. Danger emanates from this mysterious man and a small part of me is intrigued by the fear.

His companions moved about the diner, all equally put together and dangerous as the one still stood in front of me. “Um. If you’d like to take a seat I can get you started with something to drink.” I motion to the booth I had just been sitting at. “No need, we won't be here for long. We just came to collect something that belongs to us.”

My mouth went dry as I realized I was now encircled by the men. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door to the kitchen, where the back door was. “What do you mean?” I stand frozen. “We came to take what's owed to us girl.” One of the men spoke from behind me, causing me to turn to face him. He was not as tall as the previous one I faced, but he looked to be the strongest out of the four of them.

“I don’t understand what’s going on here. I don’t know any of you.” I spun slowly in a circle to face them all until I made eye contact with the tallest of them once again. He smirked and took a step toward me. I moved a step further away. We kept our steps up until I was flush with the counter, only feet away from my only attempt at escape. Fear crawled down my spine and sweat-dampened parts all over my body. My pulse quickened with each step he took closer to me. I should take the chance and run for safety, but my brain doesn’t send the signal. Something within the danger of the man pursuing me sedates me.

“You don’t know us Y/n, but we know all about you.” The darkness of his gaze and the roughness of his voice strikes fear deep inside of me. “We won’t hurt you y/n, as long as you come with us without causing any problems.” The man to my right says, turning my attention to him for a split second. Something about his sharp features and warm eyes sends a wave of calm over me, but it disappears as I take in the man towering over me now.

“You belong to us now Y/n.” I stare up at him as I shake, either out of fear or because of the proximity between us now. My hands grip the edge of the counter behind me, steading me as my head spins. “How? I mean… How could this have happened-” The realization hits me. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes and my face flushed from anger. “The fucking bastard.” Coming out barely a whisper, I let my head hang as the emotions wash over me. All hitting me like a bus, pulling me back in time to when I was still stuck under his control. I thought I had managed to finally escape him, but I guess he wasn’t finished using me. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” I push the man away from me but his hand grips my wrist, keeping it in place on his chest.

“Yes, you will.” He uses my arm to pull me even closer to him. I’m now straining my neck back to look him in the eyes. My own widened with shock as I see his lips curl up into an intimidating smile. “Your father traded his daughter as payment for his debt to us and the one thing you need to know about us y/n is that we always collect our payments.” Before I can respond, a cloth comes from my left and the stench fills my nostrils and soon my lungs. My senses dull and my vision blurs. The last thing I feel before my world goes black is being held and the mumbling of voices.

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #mafia au #ateez mafia au #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

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Sweatpants SZN (Miguel Edition)

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader (Reader used from Wild Child)

Summary: The reader gets the rare sight of Miguel in sweatpants

Warnings: Smut, knife play, a lil violence

A/N: Shoutout to @thesandbeneathmytoes sending me this video that inspired this fic.

“Marcus, where’s my husband?” You just gotten back from work and were eager to see Miguel. “He’s downstairs training with Nestor, Mrs. Galindo.” When you heard the word training, you took off and ran for the gym, Marcus’ laugh getting fainter with each step you take.

The reason for your Usain Bolt run was that it wasn’t often that you got to see Miguel train aka see him in gray sweatpants. He only wore them when he was in the gym because he didn’t consider them proper loungewear (like he has time to lounge anyway).

You got there out of breath, but you were there just in the nick of time. Miguel was sparring with Nestor in the ring. As the boss, there was no need for your husband to get his hands dirty but he always needed to stay sharp. It was a great turn on to see him this way. Primal, swift, and strong. An alpha.

He was keeping up with Nestor which was no easy feat. That man was military trained and a top-notch killer. “Alright, good job Mikey.” Nestor patted his friend on the back and jumped out the ring. “Y/N,” he acknowledges you on his way out.

“You’re either getting slow or he’s getting good,” you nudged him the ribs. “Watch yourself.” He nudged you back and ruffled your hair.

“Mi amor.” He came out of the ring and kissed you. “Nestor’s getting slow or I’m getting good? I don’t know if I should be insulted or proud.”

“How was your day,” you ignored his comment and changed the subject. Miguel smirked at you, knowing you were avoiding the subject of his fighting capabilities. “Actually good, Agro project moving on and the other world is quiet.”

Miguel kept talking, but you weren’t listening. You would give the mandatory ‘mmhmm’ and look in his eyes for a bit, but your eyes always made it back to his dick. It really was a shame he wouldn’t wear the sweats more often. Or maybe it was a good thing, because nothing would get done if he did.

“Baby,” Miguel lifted your chin with two of his fingers. “My eyes are up here.”

“I know that.” You pulled away, feeling a bit of shame at being caught. “They’re just sweats. Nothing special. I don’t get why you get all hot and bothered.”

“Same reason you bend me over when I wear those green shorts,” you whispered in his ears as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “But they make your ass looks so delicious.”

“And these,” you gripped his dick, “makes you your dick look scrumptious. Makes me want to slurp it like an icee.”

“Mujer tonta (Silly woman), anyway how was your day?” You tried, you honestly did, but you couldn’t continue talking to your husband without looking at his crotch. Miguel was tired of it, so he decided to get your attention. He swung at you, knowing your reflexes were quick.

Blocking his punch with your forearm, you threw your own only for him to block it. “So that’s how its gonna be?” You kicked off your heels and threw off your suit jacket. “Si, let’s see if Nestor is getting slow or if I’m getting good.” Smiling you circled around Miguel, planning your attack. “I’m putting my money on Nestor getting slow.”

Your tactic, wait Miguel out. Being weaker than Miguel meant that you had to use his body as leverage. “Come on, Miguelito. Show me those killer moves,” you taunted him.

At first, Miguel got a couple of licks in. He was definitely getting better, but you wouldn’t let him know that. Spinning your leg around, you went to kick him, but Miguel caught it. “Really, honey? You go for that every time.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” Using your free leg, you swiped Miguel’s leg from under causing him to fall on the mat. Quickly, you got on top of him. “Pinned ya again,” you smiled down at him.

Miguel couldn’t be mad that you bested him, because the view he got was breathtaking. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He stroked your cheek. “Hmmm, I believe you told me when I was on my lunch break.”

“That was too long ago, so I’m gonna tell you again. The moon, the stars, the universe couldn’t contain my love for you.” Leave it to Miguel Galindo, ruthless businessman and cartel boss to make you all soft and gooey inside. “I love you too, Senor Galindo, but if you wanted pussy all you had to do was ask.”

Miguel laughed as he pulled you down to kiss him. The kiss started off innocently, but as it went on it gained heat and you began grinding on Miguel. His hands went for the buttons of your blouse, but than Nestor ran in. “Nestor no!” You pointed at the man to leave and take whatever bad news with him.

“Sorry, Y/N/N. Mikey, it’s an emergency.” Nestor informed Miguel and then left, not wanting to see anything explicit between you two.

Pushing Miguel’s shoulder, you picked up your discarded shoes and jacket. “You just had to jinx it.”

“What?” He asked, somewhat jogging to the room so he could shower quickly. “Earlier you said there was no problems in the other world and now look there’s a problem.”

Miguel pulled you by the hips and smirked down at you. “So, you were listening?”

“Of course, I was listening. I can multitask. Now shower so you can leave and come home faster.” Miguel followed your orders and promptly left the house, making you promise not to stay up for him.

Boredom struck. The boys were helping out with Miguel, so you couldn’t go to the clubhouse and hang with them. You already visited Felipe, so you didn’t want to bother him. Your girl friends all had their own boos to snuggle up to and you weren’t in the mood for tv. What you were in the mood for though was teasing.

Typically, you wouldn’t tease Miguel when he had a work emergency, but your body was still revved up from early. A little teasing wouldn’t hurt. Quickly you shed your frumpy clothes and put on the green booty shorts Miguel loved, a white lacy bra, and halfway zipped hoodie. Standing in your full body mirror, you took a couple of photos until you were satisfied with them.

Sifting through the photos, you finally choose the winner and sent it to Miguel. He responded quicker than you expected him to.

Miguelito: What is wrong with you? I’m working!

You: I just wanted to show you what you have waiting for you at home. It was a onetime thing.

Miguelito: Well, now I’m unsuccessfully hiding a hardon from your friends.

When Miguel told you that you switched to the group chat and threatened your friends.

You: Leave my husband alone or you can’t come over for Sunday dinner.

Coco: My bad!

Angel: Damn that’s cold!

Gilly: Angel started it!

Angel: Snitch!

You: Children. I’m friends with children.

You left the men alone, knowing they had work to do.

That text held you over for a couple of hours, but boredom hit you once again. One more picture couldn’t hurt, and it would be less harmless. Taking a lollipop out of the candy dish, you unwrapped it and placed it in your mouth suggestively, taking selfies of the lower half of your face.

You: Last one, I promise.

Miguelito: You don’t know how to fucking listen. Wait til I get home.

Hoe well, you thought and didn’t bother to respond.

Soon, you found entertainment elsewhere making time fly by. You were sitting on the island swinging your legs while eating cookies and cream ice cream when Miguel finally came home. “Didn’t I tell you not to wait up?”

“Yup,” you emphasized the ‘p’, licking your spoon clean. “But when do I ever listen?”

“True,” Miguel took the spoonful of ice cream and put in his mouth. “Hey, that’s mines!” The thief didn’t care. He kept on eating your ice cream like it was his.

Enough was enough. Grabbing one of the kitchen knives you swiped at Miguel, but he dodged it. “You sure you want to do this, sweetheart?” Miguel grabbed a knife of his own and twirled it around. “Yeah, we both know you’ll end up on your back with me pinning you again.”

“You’re too cocky, mi amor.” Miguel swiped at you and your knives clashed. The two of you fought throughout the kitchen. If you weren’t busy protecting yourself, you would’ve admired your man, but right now he was the enemy and you had to kick to his ass.

Miguel was gaining on you. You didn’t expect him to have this kind of energy after the day he had. He should’ve been more tired than this. Maybe he is actually getting better.

Using a random kitchen towel, you tried to twist the knife out of Miguel’s hand, but he must’ve been hitting the weights because his arm wouldn’t budge. With his other hand he twisted your arm, taking your knife and holding in under your hair in the back while his is at your throat.

For awhile both of you stood there, staring at each other. Miguel with smugness and victory and you with shock and lust. “You should’ve known better, mi amor. Knives aren’t your strongest suit, you should’ve stuck to guns.”

“I guess you are getting better.”

The knife Miguel had to your throat was lightly trailing your skin. Your breath quickened as the metal went down to your clavicle and to your chest. Miguel cut through your bra, shorts, and underwear. “Hey!”

“Shut up,” Miguel backed you into the counter. “I’ll buy you more.” He dropped both knives and caressed your body with his hands instead. “So beautiful,” he stroked the edge of your hair with his pinky. “My little wild child of a wife. What am I gonna do with you?”

Pulling the collar of his shirt, you bent Miguel down to kiss you. “Whatever you want, my dear husband.”

“Whatever?” He raised his eyebrows at you and backed away to the refrigerator. “Whatever.” You leaned back and spread your legs wide open to expose your dripping folds.

Miguel took an ice cube and crunched it in his mouth. His cold kiss on your shoulder caused you to hiss at the beautiful sting it caused on your body. “I really should punish you for those pictures earlier, but I got this beautiful body in front of me and now I want you crying from my cock. Do you want that, baby?” Miguel tugged on your bottom lip while he scissored two fingers inside of you.

“God, yes,” you groaned, throwing your head back. “Look at you,” He drew out his fingers from you, your stick essence clinging them together. “So needy and desperate because some of goddamn sweatpants. You’re my little slut, huh?”

“Yes, Miguel.”

“Uh huh,” he seized up your neck. “Wrong name.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Better,” he harshly grabbed you by the neck and kissed you. Eager to get things moving along, you started unbuckling Miguel’s belt and pushing down his slacks.

“Clam down.” Miguel ordered you when you groaned when he had to stop kissing you to take off his shirt. “Can’t even stop touching you without you having a damn fit.”

Kissing along his neck, you dug your fingers in his hair. “I can’t help it, daddy. I’m your little slut.”

“Damn right,” Miguel growled, slamming into you. “So, fucking tight. You were made for me.” Miguel was fucking you just like he was fighting with you earlier. Sharp, precise, and fast. This time he was hitting his target, making sure you felt every little thing.

“Daddy, please,” the tears were running down your face. It was too much too fast. “Daddy please what?” Miguel mocked you, leaning his forehead against yours. “Its getting too much for you?” He led you into a false sense of security, because in your drunk state you thought you could push him away. Miguel took your offending hand and twisted it behind your back. “See, that’s not what you’re gonna do. You’re not gonna run from this dick after you were acting like a damn fiend today.”

“But daddy,” you tried to kiss Miguel, but he pulled away and darkly chuckled at you. “That’s not nice, daddy.” You pouted, disappointed that Miguel denied you a kiss.

“It wasn’t nice when you doubted daddy’s fighting skills today. It wasn’t nice when you sent those pictures knowing I had a work emergency.” Once again, Miguel wrapped his hand around your throat but with much more pressure. “Actually,” he whispered in your ear like you two weren’t in the comfort of your home. “I’m quite merciful,” he slowed down significantly, making you feel the drag of his dick and miss it when he pulls out all the way. “I’m allowing you the pleasure on my cock, but I need one thing from you.”

“Wha- wh- wha- what is that?” You stumbled over the words, ready to do whatever your man says.

“Beg.” He enunciated perfectly, still keeping up with his slow pace. The thought to say no crossed your mind. Oh, how you loved to but the need to cum was overwhelming and you could always act up later and lure him into thinking you were going to be compliant for the night. This was just the first of many rounds for the night. “Daddy, pretty please let me cum on your beautiful cock.”

“There’s my good girl.” Miguel smiled and kissed you as he pulled you closer to drill into you. His name left your mouth repeatedly like a fervent prayer.

“Keep squeezing me just like that.” He panted in your ear, grabbing a handful of ass.

“Fuck. Fill me up, let me make you a real daddy.” Miguel came to a complete stop. “You’re serious?”

Cupping his face, you gave him a million little kisses. “Yes. I wanna make my daddy a daddy.” Expanding your family has been weighing on your mind heavily lately. Baby fever was getting to you and you couldn’t wait anymore to have some with Miguel.

Miguel snapped his hips into yours, resuming his brutal pace. “You’re gonna look exquisite with carrying my babies.” He whispered softly, contradicting from how hard he was fucking you. “You’re not working though.” He added, knowing you were just as much as a workaholic as he was.

“Debatable.” You weren’t about to get into this argument with Miguel while he was balls deep in you and you weren’t even pregnant yet.

“You can never just agree with me, can you?” Miguel didn’t give you a chance to answer, he just went harder of that was even possible. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll fuck it out of you tonight.”

You couldn’t do much, but you managed to roll your eyes. Good luck with that, you thought.

Miguel bit into your shoulder. “A fucking brat until the end.” He pummeled into you, triggering your release and his.

Both of you stood or rather Miguel stood there with you wrapped around him, covered in sweat. Kissing the spot where he bit you, he asked, “You were serious right? That wasn’t just heat of the moment dirty talk?”

“Yeah I’m ready to start a family…well only if you are.” You quickly added, suddenly nervous that Miguel changed his stance on kids. “Of course, I am,” he smacked your ass. “I get to tame your wild ass down.”

“Never! Imma have a mini-me and we’re gonna run you ragged,” you cackled, thinking of all the ways of you and your future child will terrorize Miguel.

“Typical.” Miguel shook his head as he walked the both of you to the bedroom. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Let me slurp you like an icee?” You bat your eyelashes at him. The corner of his mouth ticked before he rolled his tongue around. “Yeah something like that.”

Welp, looks like you were about to get that punishment.

Tagging: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @starrynite7114 @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jassydwill11 @otomefromtheheart @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl

#black!reader #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fandom #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites

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chaiscentedcandle · 3 years

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Like You (George Weasley x fem!reader)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: George Weasley

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/n can’t find anybody else like George

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: none

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lil angsty, cursing, mentions of food, gets happy towards the end!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,461

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is inspired by my all time freaking favorite Doja Catsong, Streets, omg I love it, I also had a different idea for this song but as I was writing it just took a turn so I might write another one but it’ll be different, but anyways if you guys haven’t listened to Streets you should omgggg but you don’t have too!! Anyways I hope you guys like it!💗💗 I ONLY USED KATIE BELL AS DRAMA NO KATIE BELL SLANDER🤚🏼

Like you, like you

Like you, ooh

I found it hard to find someone like you

To say Y/n love life was sad was kinda far behind it, sure he’s dated boys in the past before, but the feelings never stayed. She dated boys and not men because back then her judgement never got the best of her. She did feel bad that after only a few weeks of dating she questioned her feelings, they’d gone so soon but why?

Like you, like you

Send your location come through

I can’t sleep no more

In my head we belong

Y/n always felt like she was doing something wrong when she broke up with them, it wasn’t their fault she lost feelings she just....did. Dating is hard, it’s very hard and no one will tell you that, all these other people make it look easy and fun but it’s just the exact opposite.

And I can’t be without you

Why can’t I find no one like you?

I can’t sleep no more

In my head we belong

Maybe dating was hard because your soul knew the person your with is not the person you want to be with. Maybe it’s hard because deep down you know you won’t have a future with said person and it feels like waisted time. Maybe datings hard because the person you want to be with is with someone else.

These thoughts plagued Y/n and George at night. In each other’s head they belonged together.

And I can’t be without you

Why can’t I find no one like you?

Baby, we tried to fight it

We all been there some days

Sometimes it’s not just hard for one party, sometimes it’s hard for the other party as well. Because George has been in love with Y/n for as long as he could remember, his best friend, and it didn’t feel weird to be in love with her, he tried to push his feelings down, so far down that he couldn’t feel them, yet the feelings are too strong.

Thought I need something else

And acted like I was okay

We just had to work it out

And baby, I needed space

George thought maybe if he dated someone else things would be okay instead of acting like it was okay. He needed to work things out, he gave himself space from Y/n which not only left her confused but Fred as well, he tells everything to Fred so why is he distancing himself from her?.

So when he started dating Katie Bell, it didn’t feel right. Something in his gut told him it wasn’t right and he shouldn’t be doing it, but how could he tell his best friend he’s in love with her? She probably wasn’t even in love with him, he wasn’t even Katie’s first choice.

Ain't nobody 'round here wrong

You love all yours so far away

You're pouring your heart out

I'm acting like I knew

George and Katie’s relationship didn’t last long, he refused to kiss her and only wanted to hold her hand, anytime she’d try to find way to kiss him he’d make a silly excuse to slip away. After a few months they finally split, he couldn’t deny how he felt towards Y/n anymore, he’s been denying it too long.

Late at night he would create scenarios where he poured his heart out to Y/n and she acted like she knew already, his words were moving and he didn’t stumble over his words and they’d share a fiery kiss. Every night he wished something like that would happen.

You held me so down

So down I never grew, oh

I tried to find out

When none of them came through

Before George could confess his feelings for Y/n she also dated someone for a span of months, Adrian Pucey. Adrian Pucey was well known around the school, being on the Slytherin quidditch team had its perks, but Y/n never knew why he was well known for it, other people had been on the quidditch team.

Adrian Pucey put Y/n in a corner when he asked her to be his girlfriend in front of everyone at the great hall, Y/n was speechless for a moment, of course it had to be in front of everyone, if she said no she’d be seen as a heartless bitch. Y/n convinced herself that maybe since George had dated someone else she should too.

Their relationship lasted shorter then George and Katie’s. Adrian had no idea what to do with a relationship nor how to treat a women, he was cold and mean to Y/n, he always backed her into a corner and called her names when she didn’t agree with him, so in a flurry of emotions she broke up with him in front of a decent sized group of people. She felt like he had held her down, she’s a delicate flower who’s trying to blossom into a beautiful hibiscus but Adrian was a slug who was holding her down from growing.

And now I'm stuck in the middle

And baby had to pull me out, oh

Like you, like you

Like you, ooh

George was beyond aggravated when Adrian had asked Y/n out, his Y/n, Fred tried to talk to him later that day in the common room. “Y/n is her own person and can date whoever she wants” Fred told him, “yeah, but it’s angering too see her with some prat as Adrian Pucey”. Ron had butted into the conversation to joke and say that the twins roles had been reversed and one was acting like the other, alas he was told to shut up.

Before Y/n had broken up with Adrian he tried to figure out all the things wrong Adrian was doing, he could’ve made a bullet point list of a few pages from the things he picked up on. He brought them all to Y/n’s attention, she didn’t deny them because, well, she already knew. She had no idea why she was with him. She was more than grateful that George had helped pull her out from the middle.

I found it hard to find someone like you

Like you, like you

Send your location, come through (Yeah)

Damn papa, you a rare breed, no comparing

Now that they are both single George thought it would be a great time to tell Y/n how he feels, but it’s harder done than said. Anytime he’d find a lull in a conversation or comfortable silence he could feel his heart wanting to tell her, wearing to tell her but his mouth just wouldn’t move and his brain just wouldn’t function.

Y/n also wanted to tell George how she felt for so long but could never come to either, whenever they’d be apart from each other she’d have other students or friends come find her then tell her George was looking for her, he’s always looking for her. Y/n thought most of the guys at Hogwarts were just like Adrian, but when she left Adrian she realized there was many guys way different then Adrian, like George, he wasn’t like anyone she’s really seen and it took her this long to realize how rare he is.

And it's motherfuckin' scary

Tryna keep him 'cause I found him

Let a hoe know, I ain't motherfuckin' sharing

I could take you to the parents, then to Paris

Rumors began to spread that Katie was wanting George back, people said she was very sulky and quiet. Her friends said all she brought up was George and how annoying it was getting. “She spends most of her time talking about George, she’s had a few nights where all she talked about was him, it’s quite annoying actually” recalled one of her friends.

This made Y/n jealous. She tried to not get jealous but George had said he was done with Katie. Her mother always told her jealousy is bad medicine. Y/n couldn’t help the way she felt, she knows not to surprise feelings so she embraced it instead, she was jealous and she had a right to be. She waited this long, she didn’t want to share.

You the type I wanna marry (Yeah) and keep you merry

I'll put the ring on when you ready

We play our fantasies out in real life ways and

Y/n’s friend group who consisted of George, Fred, Lee, and Angelina had been talking about the situation in the Gryffindor common room, Y/n was slumped in a arm chair with her arms and legs crossed. She wasn’t pleased to hear the situation again, the students at Hogwarts grabbed onto any drama like a leech. “Are you okay, Y/n?” Angelina asked her, giving a glance to her then to the fire “I’m fine” she mumbled

No Final Fantasy, can we end these games though?

You give me energy, make me feel lightweight

Like the birds of a feather, baby

We real life made for each other

The drama started to disperse, people started to find other things to talk about. Y/n finally felt like she could breathe and she didn’t have to hear someone mumbling about Katie and George. Of course it couldn’t last forever, at lunch everyone chatted about something in the Great Hall. Katie and her friends sat more towards the front of the table while Y/n and her friends sat more towards the middle, Y/n noticed how Katie couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering. Soon Fred picked up on what was happening.

“Oi! George! Looks like a certain someone can’t take her eyes off you” as soon as it passed Fred’s lips, Y/n had tightly gripped a piece of bread she had been eating, crunching sound from the crust and crumps falling to her plate. George nudged her “are you alright?” He asked,Y/n didn’t even look up “I’m fine, do I not look fine?” She snapped. George hadn’t said another word.

Y/n felt like she was stuck in a game she’s meant to lose. To her luck, Katie came wondering over to their part of the table, you could tell she was nervous and she was playing with her fingers. She stopped in front of George “u-uhm, George?” She said quietly, almost to quiet. George looked up from his plate, meeting her eyes “yes?” He said confused. Katie played with her fingers more “i....I just wanted to say that, uhm....I miss you, quite a bit actually” she tucked her hair behind her ear and casted her gaze to the floor “and I was wondering if we could possibly....try again?” George was speechless, and shocked, sure Katie is a nice girl but she’s not his, not when his flower is sitting next to him, clearly seething. However, George didn’t want to embarrass her by saying no, he didn’t want to embarrass her like that. “Uhm...I’ll-I’ll think about it” Katie gave a silent “okay!” With a smile and walked back to her spot, a slight skip in her step.

This only aggravated Y/n more, why couldn’t George be the one to give her so much energy from just a single glance that made her head spin, why wouldn’t he make Y/n feel weightless. Why couldn’t they be birds of a feather?, maybe thinking they were made for each other didn’t really mean they were.

And it's hard to keep my cool

When other bitches tryna get with my dude and

When other chickens tryna get in my coop

'Cause you're a one in a million

There ain’t no man like you

Y/n didn’t want to cause a scene but it didn’t take a fool to notice how affected she was by what Katie had done, especially George’s response. Grabbing her bag, she stood up from her seat hastily and speed walked out of the Great Hall. Her cold and hard stare could send shivers down your spine, she looked like she was ready to exploded any second.

Maybe it was just her head telling her that George was hers, they hadn’t really talked about it for that matter. George had watched her leave the Great Hall, he kept his eyes in the direction she left still, his lips pressed into a fine line, his brain was running around with what he should do. He didn’t move until Hermione said something “well, what are you doing? Go after her!” He didn’t give it a second thought and was out the door.

It wasn’t long before George found Y/n at a spot over looking the Great Lake. Her elbow rested on a ledge with her chin in her hand, she looked a little more calm. George stood next to her, Y/n glanced at him then back to the lake. “What’s wrong?” George said, Y/n gave him another quick glance before she spoke “I thought you said you were done with Katie Bell” she had nothing against Katie, not really, she was just jealous. “I am” George said, Y/n rolled her eyes “didn’t look like it” she replied. Y/n didn’t want to hear it anymore, she turned on her heel to leave but only making a few steps before George grabbed her arms and turned her towards him “I don’t love her!” George said defensively “why are you so jealous anyways?” Y/n scoffed, she wasn’t going to admit she was jealous “I’m not jealous” she mumbled “yes, you are! Why are you jealous?” He repeated “because you’re one in a million! There’s no man like you! I want you for myself” Y/n spoke before she could think.

Like you, like you

Like you, ooh

I found it hard to find someone like you

Like you, like you

Y/n and George couldn’t believe what she had said, George often doubted himself but to hear that from someone he loves. It was refreshing. “I don’t love her” George said again “I love you” the tension was so thick you could cut it with a butcher knife. One was waiting for the other to do something. Y/n’s hands had been shaking a little, George was playing with his pointer finger and staring at his shoes, it was so unreal to them that they both were dumb enough to not see they both fancied each other.

Slowly Y/n took a few steps forward, she wrapped her arms around George’s neck and pulled him in. He buried his face in her neck “it was hard to find someone like you, and I don’t want to let you go” Y/n whispered “I don’t want to let you go either” George added. They both pulled away to look at each other, looking each other in the eyes to find something. George placed a soft kiss on Y/n’s forehead then placed his on hers. Finally they got to have each other.

#hogwarts #hp imagines #george weasley #hp fanfic #harry potter #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #weasley twins #george weasley fluff #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #Spotify

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devak66 · 3 years

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Blood for the Blood Prince

eyyyyy i did this thing. finally finished

word count: 1559

story idea from: @pawesome28-x

if anyone has ideas for prompts for this au, dont be afraid to send them my way

Cold. Not as cold as his home in the arctic but that doesn't make this place any warmer, snow crunches underneath the piglin’s boots. This visit was simply to check on rumors he had heard, that there was a country being founded nearby. Techno knew he should have gotten Philza, the other member of Syndicate, but he assured himself that it wouldn't be needed, this is just reconnaissance. If things go bad he will call Phil, but he doubted it would get that bad.

A few minutes of walking later, he heard another set of footsteps. Fuck, had someone noticed him already? Techno quickly ducked behind a tree, thinking that maybe this other person did not spot him. The crunch of footsteps in the snow continued, ok… so he wasn't seen. Techno peeked out from behind the tree and saw… Ranboo. He wasn't dressed in anything warmer than what he casually wears… but something was off. Not just the lack of warm wear despite the snow surrounding them… his eyes had a bit more of a green tint to them. His walk was so much … less natural. When he would turn, he'd simply pause and alter course before continuing to walk. While he was looking out from his spot, he noticed one other thing… someone else. Tubbo was watching from afar, much less hidden then the hogfolk were. It was obvious that Tubbo noticed them because there was a strained moment of eye contact.

After a while of just... staring at each other, Tubbo went over to Techno, glancing over at Ranboo, who was still calmly walking around. “What are you doing here??” The younger of the present two asked

“I have my reasons, what’s going on here?” Techno cut straight to the chase. Ranboo was acting strange, Techno wanted to know why

“In all honesty, i have no clue” Tubbo admitted “This has been happening for a bit… I think he’s sleepwalking. It's very interesting”

“If he’s asleep, why are you hiding?” Techno raised an eyebrow at Tubbo

“I.. didn’t want to accidentally wake him up. I was doing research on how he acted… i thought if i knew about how he acted, then i could find out why” Tubbo said, then realized something “why are you hiding?”

“Just looking around, making sure there’s no government” Techno said, Tubbo’s face grew pale at hearing that. Techno didn’t hesitate, moving past Tubbo, heading towards the hybrid “I doubt there’s any reasoning behind what he’s doing, he’s just sleepwalking. Come on, let's just get him somewhere warm before he freezes out here…” Techno reached out a hand to the hybrid, who’s ears had perked up subtly at the voices. The moment he felt the hand on his shoulder, Ranboo suddenly turned around, startling Techno, who reflexively reached for his axe. Ranboo glared at this potential hostility, a growl growing in his throat, that green tint going to a much angrier red one. Techno took a hesitant step back “what the..” This isn’t the ranboo he knew. This isn't the smiling hybrid who would spend hours of time to make him an axe to replace the one he had lost when destroying L’Manberg. This Ranboo had pure rage and thirst for blood boiling in his eyes.

In a sudden moment, Ranboo lunged at Techno, pinning the piglin to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. Tubbo panicked from his spot in the trees “I forgot to mention. We found out what his other half is! It’s.. wait. If his Enderman half caused him to sleepwalk, or as I’ve been calling it, enderwalk, his dreamon half might be causing him to be like this”

Techno regained himself, kicking Ranboo off of him, pushing the much lighter foe a few feet away. Getting back to his feet and getting his axe in hand he shout to Tubbo, “the fuck is a dreamon?” not taking his gaze from Ranboo. Before his own eyes, the ender hybrid’s body started to change. Those slightly tinted eyes went solid red, his fingers growing claws.

It took Tubbo a moment to respond. This is a bad situation but information wise… this is great! Maybe he can guess what specifically caused Ranboo to transform that first time with Fundy. “It’s a powerful entity, getting its name from, obviously, Dream.” Ok ok ok. Stay calm. Why did he get hostile..? Techno touching him? No… not really… wait.. techno had reached for his axe “they can hide among humans but usually have features to show they’re not normal, other than an innate weakness to prime water” it… couldn’t just be that… Why did he start his transformation? Techno.. had kicked him off and taken his axe. It… can’t be that… could it be that simple

“Can you tell me anything more useful? Weaknesses?” Techno was using his axe to try to keep Ranboo at bay, even using using the handle, held longways, trying to keep the hybrid from biting him

“There’s the weakness to prime water, but I don't want to hurt him… hm… wait! He can’t pass tilled soil” Tubbo grinned, this could be good. And he thinks he knows why Ranboo transformed. Progress!

“Great” Techno said, very focused on not getting mauled “do you have a hoe or is that useless information”

“I have a hoe” Tubbo said “I’ll till a circle and we can make a plan” Tubbo said, taking out his hoe and set to work making a safe circle for them in the dirt “ok. It’s ready” techno nodded and with a sudden shove back with the axe to make Ranboo stumble back, techno took the chance to rush to the safety of the circle. He could have easily defeated Ranboo, but he didn’t want to hurt him. Ranboo rushes after Techno when he attempts to escape, but immediately stops when he gets to the edge of the circle of the tilled soil.

“So what's the plan?” Techno asked “how do we get him back?”

Tubbo kept his gaze on Ranboo, who was walking around the border of the circle, looking for a break. An opportunity to attack. “Well… um… there’s the problem. We can't…”

“What?” Techno demanded

“This isn't the first time he transformed, i think i know why he did as well, but based on what Dream said when i visit him-

“Why am I not surprised you visited him?” Techno muttered, he was getting a headache, mainly since the voices were very conflicted. Some were yelling ‘Blood for the Blood God’, as usual, but others were yelling to ‘Protect Ranboo’, so he’s having some fun.

“It was simply for information. He said that we can't snap him out with words, but he… also said that he could train him to not go to this mental state as much… but it would take him being let out of prison. i know he didn’t lie because i had a bit of information i could use against him” Tubbo focused on making sure the circle in the ground stayed safe and that Ranboo couldn't attack them

“One, I’d like to know what that information was, and two, i could train Ranboo” Techno said, quite nonchalantly

“What?” Tubbo looked at Techno, very surprised by what he had said

“I’ve dealt with voices trying to make me kill for basically my entire life, i’m sure i could help Ranboo with this” Techno shrugged, slightly mesmerized by that rage fueled red in Ranboo’s eyes “also i’d like to know what you told Dream to make him cooperate. anything else useful would be great as well”

Tubbo was at a loss for words, nodding “I said to dream how I knew that Ranboo’s his brother. A-“

“Wait WHAT? Actually no. With how often Dream is trying to be ‘sneaky’ and watch Ranboo, this makes sense. Continue”

“He said the reason Ranboo transformed back might have been because he was tired” Tubbo said.

Techno got an idea “that i can do, cover me for a moment” he grabbed one of the many sticks and dead branches that littered the ground. He sat on the ground and used his axe to make the ends a bit cleaner, then he worked on taking off the smaller sticks on the edge. After a while he had a makeshift bo staff “I’ll make a better one later, but this will work for now” He put away his axe and measured the weight of the staff in his hand. It could be a bit heavier, but he didn't get the chance of finding a better stick

“What are you going to do?” Tubbo asked

“You said if he gets tired he’ll turn back, right?” Techno replied, tubbo nodded in response “I’m going to use this and fight against him without hurting him. I get some combat practice, which never hurts, and i can tire him out”

Tubbo nodded quietly “before you go, I should say something. I think he started to transform as a defense mechanism. He lashed out because he saw you reaching for your axe, then he started to transform when you kicked him off”

Techno sighed “well i guess this will be fun” he said as he stepped out of the circle, he wasn't going to let the fact that this looks like Ranboo, this is something he has to do

#half dreamon ranboo #half dreamon ranboo au #hdr au #tubbo #dreamon hunter tubbo #techno #dream smp #dream smp au #this was a lot of fun to write

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versacethotty · 4 years

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TELL THEM HOES THAT ITS CRUNCH TIME ABDOMEN!

#rpdr #rpdr12 #rupaul’s drag race #drag race #jaida essence hall

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wavbleu · 3 years

Text

Jordan powell: Punishment pt 2

TW: KIDNAPPING, (some) FEAR PLAY, KNIFE PLAY, FORCE FUCKING, DEGRADING, BONDAGE , AND OVERSTIMULATION , STOP READING IF YOU ARE TRAUMATIZED OR VANILLA.

~~~

*Click,Clack,Click,Clack*

Goes the tall cold man's heavyweight boots echoing through the halls; You looked up at the grey door, watching the doorknob steadily turn left.

It was him.

~~~

You sat in the cold room, wearing nothing but dainty, fragile, pink panties, braless ; Still tied down to the lumpy uncomfortable metal chair, silenced by the rope around your mouth.

You shook in horror and dismay thinking about what he'd do to you this time, would he seduce you with his charms , tie you up and use you like a toy? Or would he finally develop mercy and let you out. Ha. Hardly doubt that. Thats what you hated about Jordan, there was no definite answer of what he'd do to you and he always kept you guessing your fate.

Although you hated how you were tied down majority of the time and Jordan's boastful and cocky attitude , you guiltily liked the fact that you were getting used and put into your place; like a good little whore.

~~~~

Jordan walked into the room welcomed by the cold air, "Geesh why didnt you tell me it was so cold." He'd look at the rope around your mouth and chuckle , "oh right."

He lightly kicked the door shut with his boot and walked towards you, he had 2 slices of pizza placed onto a paper plate in one hand and 2 cold sprites in the other.

What kinda kidnapper feeds the kidnapped.. and on top of that decent food? You thought to yourself.

He placed the food onto the gray table in front of you, making your mouth start watering, you were hungry and you haven't eaten anything all day.

But instead of untying you to eat, Jordan grabbed a wooden chair and swiftly sat backwards on it, he opened the sprite and it let out a small "tssst" before he started to slowly drink it in front of you.

You looked at the food then at him; just hoping he would take a hint and untie you. But he just stared at you, sipping his soda.

He's taunting me isnt he?

"Something bothering you? its ok you can tell me." He joked and laughed continuously taking a small swish out of the sprite.

You let out a loud frustrated groan at how he's playing stupid.

"Calm down princess, i just wanna finish my drink." He mocked, then started to sip his stupid sprite even slower than before, even making sound effects along with it.

Your stomach let out a loud growl making you crunch up as a reaction; you looked up at him again with an obvious face that showed how done you are with his bullshit antics.

"Fineeee!" ,"Gee your no fun." He mumbles before getting up , slamming the sprite can on the table and untying you.

He satirically let out a loud groan as he untied your ropes and unraveled the hard knots he put in place . Starting out with your mouth, enabling you to talk, your shoulders and arms, and lastly your feet.

You were free, the tension the rope put on your arms and legs gradually began to release itself from your body .

Jordan got onto his knees in front of you and began softly kissing and caressing your thighs nibbling at them and leaving hickeys on them. You felt a tingling sensation go down your body as he started to kiss up your thigh, you wanted him to stop but no.. keep going. Until you remembered how hungry you are and how the pizzas right there.

You jerked and moved your thighs throwing him off of what he was doing, he then looked up at you and seemed to be pissed off.

"You know toys are supposed to be fun." , " and your fucking boring."

"Well if im boring then let me out." You snapped back, "Not till your broke ass parents give me what i want darling." He sternly yet angrily replied. Pissed off you tried to get up from the stupid metal chair, but he lifted you up and threw you over his strong, broad shoulder. "Put me down!" you screeched, he took your orders (for once) and placed you onto the grey table where the still- pretty-hot pizza was.

What a tease, you thought.

You were close enough to grab the pizza so, you attempted to stick your hand out and hopefully, oh so hopefully you'd be able to grab it and eat, but lucks out, Jordan slapped your hand and cooed "Aw my babygirl wants to eat?" He grabbed the now warm slice of pizza and circled it around your mouth , "Here comes the choo choo train say ahh." You opened your mouth desperate to have a bite , but instead of being welcomed by a nice thin slice of that oh so cheesy pizza, you felt his saliva enter your mouth instead.

Impulsively you kicked him, he bounced back from the impact of it and when he had realized what you've done he got pissed.

You seen the anger rise in him; he balled his fists and his face dropped into a furious look. You grew fear and distress in your heart.. you had a deep feeling it was gonna be worst than last time.

"Im so sor-" you tried to apologize but was interrupted.

"Oh so the little bitch is hungry so she goes and kicks her daddy." he licks his lips and stares at you "I know what you can eat."

He'd grab a chunk of your hair and drag you off the table forcing you onto your knees, "On your knees bitch . Reply." , "Yes daddy." You gulped knowing you deserved this.

You felt your breath quicken as he angrily unbuckled his pants and whipped out his big dick, dripping of pre-cum and shaking. You looked at his dick then up at him, waiting for your instructions.

"Listen here baby, your gonna take this dick down your throat and were gonna count by 10, every 10 seconds you can breathe. Got it?" He grabbed your face making you look up at him, you slowly nodded and swallowed your spit again, preparing yourself for what your about to take.

"Good girl." He smirked before pushing you onto his dick, from the tip down to his thick base, you gagged up spit struggling to take all 8 inches. His dick slowly entered down your tightening throat, making him release a deep moan.

He started to stroke himself down your throat, going slow since its the first set, He counted to 10 before pulling out and letting you breathe, then sticking his dick down your throat again.

He fucked your throat faster this time, his balls lightly tapped your chin and saliva started to stick onto your face, "Thats a good little toy, thats right, spit up all over it." He stroked one last time before pulling out once again, "thats 20." he moaned, then stuck it down your throat again.

"Use your tongue baby." He groaned, desperately fucking himself into your throat. You took demands and worked your tongue on his dick, he threw his head back and moaned, losing count and forgetting to let you breathe.

"Fuck!" He let out fucking himself deeper into your petite throat, your eyes began to water and tear up as you kept gagging up spit repeatedly. Your pussy was dripping wet, you went to fulfill its needs for before Jordan saw and stopped you.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He growled in a pissed off manner, "No, bad girls dont get to touch their selves." he snatched your hand and placed it onto his hip. He grabbed your hair again and stuck his dick deeper inside you, angry at not only how you kicked him but how you decided to touch yourself aswell.

He picked up his black shirt and bit onto it, showing off his sexy six pack, sliding his dick in and out of your throat , his breath quickened and he let out small moans; He bit down onto his shirt and looked up at the ceiling desperately trying to hold himself back from cumming.

"Son of a bitch get on the table." He growled, quickly lifting you up and placing you onto the table, ripping off your panties and sticking his penis into you. You gasped as he forced all his inches into you effortlessly instantly being lubed by your wet pussy. He took notice of how turned on you are by this "Yea you like this dont you my little cum dump? Only stupid sluts enjoys this shit."

He threw your ankles over his shoulders and started to deeply , roughly and aggressively force himself in and out of you, grasping onto your hips and letting out loud deep moans.

The loud claps of his hips thrusting onto you and your thighs filled the cold sex-ified room.

His dick felt absolutely marvelous in you, he made sure to angle himself perfectly thrusting, working at your g-spot and showing it some love.

You held onto his strong forearm to brace yourself for the powerful and compelling orgasm ahead, you looked up at him and moaned, "Im sorry daddy~"

He loved how you moaned and creamed all over his cock, reminding him who has the authority here.

"Who owns you?" He grabbed onto your neck and looked down at you " You do." You cried as you could feel his dick in your womb, "Thats right." He pulled out and opened your legs wide open, beginning to eat you out.

Your legs shivered as he gently sucked onto your clit and softly rubbed it , then stuck his cock back into you. That was your breaking point , you released yourself all over his thick cock letting all of the pleasure override you, causing you to tighten.

He grunted, beginning to dig his nails into your hips bound to leave a mark. Seconds later you felt his warm cum rush into you, Jordan threw his head back and rolled his eyes letting out a deep and sexy "Oh fuck!"

You were happy and proud about how you once again pleased your master , "You better worship that load whore. Now eat up and clean yourself up. Ill be back in an hour." He pulled up his pants and exited the room.

You finally enjoyed your pizza.

~~~~~

A/n:

MIGHT edit this one later but yay the hoe finally got ha pizza

More requests and scenarios please!🤞🏾😍

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immodestmussorgskyy · 3 years

Text

you have (1) new message

“I don’t believe in you!”

“I believe in you…”

You can’t help but snort, bursting into a fresh round of giggles. The dialogue in Nightmare on Elm Street is absolutely diabolical-- you struggle to figure out how anybody could consider this a horror movie. But hey… meteoric fame is hard to come by. It’s a cult classic for a reason.

You’d usually be marathoning classic slasher flicks with your roommate, Chloe, but she’s on a month-long Hawaii dream vacation with her new boyfriend. What happened to bros before hoes? But hey, his wealth is apparently abundant enough to fund weeks of paradise beachside living, so good for her for getting that bread. And anyway, you’re content to sit alone in your little mousehole apartment and melt into the couch after work with a family-size bag of salt & vinegar chips under your arm.

You watch the flickering screen with mild interest as you chomp down another handful of chips. Freddy Krueger is definitely failing to get you on the edge of your seat. Wiping your hand on your sweatpants, you pick up the remote and turn the movie off.

“Nightmare, my ass.” you mutter under your breath.

As much as you’d like to, eating nothing but salt and vinegar chips for dinner seems like a great way to end up with an upset stomach and a lot of regret later tonight. The pantry is well stocked with Chloe’s foods of choice-- organic steel-cut rolled oats, a billion different kinds of nuts and seeds all in cute little labeled mason jars, gluten free bread, a mockery of cheese puffs (chickpea puffs? Come on!). Your side is a library of boxed or canned foods in stark contrast: a couple opened boxes of Pop-Tarts, a few boxes of Kraft mac & cheese, a family sized box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and, the only thing not in a box: another bag of salt & vinegar chips.

The fridge tells a similar story. Chloe’s avocados, farmer’s market tomatoes, and thick stalks of celery gleam in the vegetable drawer. She’s consumed half the shelf space with just kombucha and a few swanky craft beers. And bottles of oat milk, or soy milk, or some kind of thing pretending to be milk. You actually don’t have much in the fridge besides leftover Indian food from your favorite place downtown and a gallon of milk for your cereal, so you don’t mind her hogging more space.

Muffy, Chloe’s ragdoll cat, stalks into the kitchen with you and gives you a tiny yowl. You lean down and give her an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

“Scram, Muffy.” you murmur to her. “I’ve already fed you.”

She looks up at you with a look that can only mean “and you’ll feed me more.”

She stalks back into the living room, fluffy beige tail disappearing behind the wall in a flick and a wave. You tie your hair back and yawn. What’s on the menu for dinner tonight?

Before you can think too much about eating, you remember that Chloe left you a voicemail before she took off. You fish your phone from your pocket and open your voicemail, tapping your toe against the linoleum floor as the dial tone plays.

You have one new message, chirps the robot voice of your mailbox.

“Hey girl. I’m boarding soon, so you probably won’t hear from me for a while. Make sure you feed Muffy, water the plants…” she clicks her tongue a few times, “take your meds, and don’t lay in bed for too long on the weekends. You know how that tanks your mood.”

Chloe might be a total hipster health nut, but it doesn’t make it any less sweet that she frets over you so much. You break into a smile and make a mental note to call her back.

“And. You can eat anything perishable of mine in the fridge or pantry while I’m gone. I doubt the bread or the veggies are gonna last long… you need to eat healthier anyway. No potato chips for dinner.”

Your smile grows. She knows you so well.

“I gotta go, but I’ll send you tons of pictures when I get there. Bye, babe.”

You hang up and set your phone down on the counter. Eyeing the bland looking loaf of brown bread, you decide you’ll have breakfast a la Chloe for dinner.

You toss the loaf onto the counter, then stalk to the fridge. The avocados seem pretty ripe. Tomatoes, too. You pick out one of each, then pluck a couple eggs from the carton you two share and set it all on the counter. Avocado toast with scrambled eggs sounds pretty Chloe.

You gut the avocado, tossing its pit in the trash and scooping its innards out into a bowl. The fork makes quick work of it, turning it into a mound of mild green paste. Salt, pepper. Done.

Hey, if Chloe let you eat her food, she’s bound to not mind that you’re using her nice kitchen knives too, right? You cut a few slices of tomato and grimace at its gelatinous, glistening center. You never liked tomatoes much, but she’s kinda right-- you do need to improve your diet.

Before long, you’ve got a nice thick slice of toast slathered in avocado and garnished with ripe red tomato sitting next to a steaming pile of scrambled eggs. This may not be your beloved salt & vinegar chips, but it sure looks delicious.

You snap a photo of your meal and text it to her. Am I healthy yet? you type, with a grin on your face.

Muffy stalks up to you, looking up expectantly. You sigh and toss her a morsel of scrambled egg. “That’s all you’re getting, you little twerp.” you admonish through a mouthful of toast. It’s not… delicious, but it’s not bad for some mushed up vegetable on top of an excuse for bread. You curse yourself for not adding some cheese to your scrambled eggs. That would’ve really been delicious.

You’d usually be scrolling through your social media right now, but something inspires you to look longingly out the window of the kitchen. The sky is a starless, inky black, obscuring everything except for whatever is illuminated by the weak orange streetlights. Usually there would be more traffic or drunk yelling-- you and Chloe didn’t exactly get lucky with the placement of your unit-- but tonight it’s eerily silent. That’s perfectly welcome to you, though. It’s much better than cranking up the volume of your music to drown out whatever street fight is occurring three floors below you.

Suddenly, your musing and its silence is broken by the sound of your ringtone. It’s half past midnight… who in their right mind would be calling you right now?

Unknown number. You frown and let it go to voicemail. Probably just some spam caller.

You finish your dinner and sit there in the silence, then check your phone again. You can’t help but be curious as to what message they’ve left you. Gingerly, you open your voice mailbox again and listen dispassionately to the dial tone and the little robot voice.

You have one new message and one old message.

The voice that erupts through your speaker is unfamiliar, smooth, low. All you can discern is that it’s a male voice, its tone almost perversely cloying.

“I was hoping you’d pick up.” A long inhale, a long exhale. “You seem a little lonely. Breakfast for dinner… cute.”

Ice cold horror washes over you and you can barely move your fingers to hang up. This has to be some kind of joke. Some stupid kid getting really, really lucky with their prank call.

But a question still sears into your thoughts:

Who would have known what you were doing?

That you were alone in your apartment?

Maybe, just maybe, by some insane stretch of the imagination, Chloe’s new boyfriend got ahold of her phone, saw your text, and decided to pull some prank. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s the only situation that makes sense, unless…

Somebody is watching you.

You nearly jump out of your seat as the phone rings again. Unknown number. Your hands tremble over it as your panicked brain deliberates picking it up. Before you can think about it any more, you’ve snatched it into a sweaty palm and brought it up to your ear.

“Chloe, this isn’t fucking funny. Cut it out.” you try to sound intimidating, but your voice trembles in just the wrong way with each word.

“You picked up.” the voice breathes, and you swear you can hear a sinister smile creep onto whoever’s face it belongs to. “You must really be lonely.”

“I said stop, Chlo--”

“My name’s not Chloe.” he snarls, and your empty threat dies in your throat immediately. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, his voice slips back into that relaxed, amused tone. “But I do wish I were spending a month in Hawaii right now. Lucky girl, isn’t she?”

Another pang of fear hits you like a brick. You swallow hard, biting your lip. “Whoever you are, leave me alone. Or I’ll… I’ll call the cops.”

“What exactly are you going to tell them, sweetheart? That some big mean boogeyman is leaving scary messages on your phone?” he lets out a mocking laugh. “They’ll send their best officers, I’m sure.”

“Leave me alone.” is all you manage to say, breathless and trembling, before you force yourself to hang up and practically slam your phone down onto the counter. Muffy jumps and cocks her head at you. You force yourself to break out of your panicked stupor and hurry over to the kitchen window, glancing hurriedly to the left and right of it. If somebody were on the fire escape, you surely would have heard it.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You yank those curtains shut, then the curtains on the living room window, then finally the ones in your bedroom. You remember Chloe locking and shutting her windows, so there’s no need to check in there. Something tells you to anyway.

You creep to her doorway, palms sweaty. There’s probably nothing to see in there, you think to yourself, the curtains were already shut.

Looking into her room, your stomach drops.

The curtains are tucked neatly to the side, and her window is cranked all the way open, letting in the cool night air and the sounds of the streets. You nearly choke in horror and rush over to shut the window, making sure the lock is tightly down before throwing the curtains back over them. You must have just misremembered. She probably left the window open to let some fresh air in, or something.

But she never leaves her window open, or Muffy would get out, you realize.

“Oh my God.” you gasp to yourself, before you sprint to the kitchen and grab the biggest, meanest looking knife in the drawer, as well as your phone. Muffy meows at you curiously, then yelps in indignance as you swiftly scoop her up by the stomach and fly to your room.

“Sorry.” you mutter as you practically toss her onto your bed, then lock your door. It’s a pathetic, flimsy mechanism, and could probably be picked with a fork, but it’s better than nothing. You pause, surveying the room for any heavy objects, and settle on jamming your full laundry hamper under the doorknob. At least this way you’ll hear any intruder before they make it into your room. The knife you tuck under your pillow as you scramble under your covers and turn your lamp off.

Your hands shake as you dial Chloe’s number. The phone rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Chlo,” you say shakily. “Uhm, I got some really weird calls from somebody tonight and I think our apartment might have been broken into. Or something. Uh,” you swallow hard, “Muffy and I are locked up in my room right now and I have a knife. I could be just imagining things, but if you don’t hear from me for a while, I probably got murdered or something.”

God, you sound so stupid right now, but it’s the best you can muster when your thoughts are racing at a million miles an hour.

“I’ll call you when I wake up tomorrow. Bye.”

You plug your phone in and set it on your nightstand, shrinking down underneath your duvet. Nothing is visible in your room, even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, except for the glow of the hall light you left on under your door.

It’s going to be a long night.

Check out this story and the rest of its chapters on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688007/chapters/70331253

#dead by daylight #danny johnson #the ghostface #jed olsen #fanfiction #murder and intrigue huehuehue #getting stalked basically #cat and mouse type shit

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derekmorganscrocs · 3 years

Text

Nancy Drew 2x6? Thoughts While Watching

Technically its the season 2 premiere but I have no idea what to number it

SPOILER WARNING!! SWEARING TOO.

A YATCH? OH GET IT BESS.

OH PLATANCHOR

ACE GOT A NOTE FROM HIS MOM AWWW. I want a picnic date on a mountain, no cap.

Nick and George teamwork is so cute. AW NICKS MOM! “Nice non pagan game night.” I’m sent.

I LOVE MORGUE GUY HES SO FUNNY

HAHAHA DETECTIVE TAMARA MAKING FUN OF NANCY IS GOLD. Nancy don’t make an enemy of another cop you already did that to McGinnis and that was kinda bad (until he switched on you). TELL NANCY WHAT SHE WANTS TO KNOW TAMARA. SHELL FIND OUT WITHOUT U HOE.

OH NO. WH-WHAT. THE BODY FRIDGE BOXES ARE SPEAKING TO U MISS NANCY.

OMG CARSON AND NANCY ACTUALLY HANGING OUT? Aw I kinda love that. The way he just knows exactly what she’s doing.

WHY SHE PUT THAT IN HER POCKET.

Ace nancy is about to die stop talking about food. I love you but read the room babe. DON’T HANG UP BITCH-

OMG ITS A BODY WHAT THE FUCK

Georges sister being a fish right activist. Omg me when I stand up to fast(that’s not supposed to be about the fish rights it’s about George just dying against a shelf)- I think Odette may have attached herself to George.

“Did you burn your knuckle hair again?”

“Game night Ace crushes.” Aw I love him.

Bess “did you kill someone” “oh it smells” STOP.

“Tamara already thinks we have a thing for dead bodies” Ace please never ever stop talking.

AH THIS WHOLE SCENE IS SENDING ME.

The way george goes EGH after she picks up the mouth thing.

Pls not us arguing over where in Nancy’s house to do an autopsy.

HAUNTED TREE-

Aw Carson still views her as a kid, I love. oh she’s so offended.

NOT THE KITCHEN TOOL AUTOPSY. Ace snapping the rubber glove made me snort omfg. He’s everything.

OK CORONER BESS. Nick is so grossed out and I love that he can’t say bug names. Detective crew 1000.

GEORGE IS HAUNTED. A MILLION PERCENT. Nick knows at least.

OH I DONT LIKE THAT WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID ACE OPEN THE BODY LIKE HE WAS PULLING OPEN ELEVATOR DOORS.

Nick is a genius, and nancy hyping him up is serving me bffs. Pls Hannah is serving angry hippie vibes.

I LOVE GEORGES TATTOOS SHES SO HOT.

OMG THE BOYS

“What like that time that she literally died?” Ok nick. OH COUPLE BOYFRIEND THERAPIES, YES BOYS TALK ABOUT UR GIRLS.

I HATE BUGS EW. OH ITS LEAKING. ITS LEAKING. AH NO

The sheer panic on their faces when someone knocks. Not morgue guy. Oh nancy gaslight him, periodt.

It blinked- (yeah I screamed this what about it.)

Is game night back on tho?

The way ace’s curls look so much better than mine, I’m so jealous. I want to play with his hair. Yes I am obsessed. What about it?

Morgue guy raging is funny. “Kidnapped cadaver”. Ahahha. NO NOT CHARLES’ ARM! It’s a voodoo doll or something- WHY IS THE CORPSE CRUNCH? OH NO HES GONE

The way bess says “come on,” is just perfect I love.

The house freaks me out a lil. Nick reassuring nancy, I really need a nick y’all.

THE KID’S CHARLES ACTION FIGURE OH NAH OH HELL NAH, WTF. WTF. HES ACTUALLY TALKING TO THE TOY NO.

George is freaking me out y’all. Ace platanchoring everyone. ACE AND GEORGE FRIENDSHIP 😭 I LOVE. ACE IS SO SWEET. NO GEORGE OPENING UP. She’s so scared, omg no. “What if I never feel normal again” broke me. Broke. I felt that so much.

Morgue guy going crazy. Babe stop repeating yourself, chill. It’s jus a ghost 🙄.

Ok come on Leo don’t be a pussy- sorry that was aggressive. Bess STOP I CANT HANDLE THIS, “BOXY”??? ACCENT NICK ACCENT NICK!

NOT GEORGES SISTERS. NO. Astronaut cat is so cool. OHNO OH NO OH NO.

RUN RUN- WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? No George begging them to hurry and the way her voice breaks. STOP STOP NO- Nick having to hold her back and the way her voice is just breaking and raspy, WOW. NO WAY, Ace is holding back the little sister. SO HE’s GOOD WITH KIDS? Amazing performance by Leah Lewis here, I love her. As an older sister, this is totally an accurate reaction and was excellently acted. just wow.

“Those ghost kids were awesome” thanks for saving me from tears Ace.

NICK IS A ROCK. HI I CANT HANDLE THIS RN BESTIE. Nick stop being such a good guy.

SHE CALLED HIM DAD. SHE CALLED HIM DAAAD. HI CARSON PLS STOP BEING ADORABLE U R ATTACKING MY EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT ISSUES. Ooh lawyer investigator nancy? Aw she’s staying at the Claw too though. LUNCHES ARE INCLUDED! Sobbing.

SHE IS SPEAKING TO ODETTE. OOH ODETTE GOT A LIL SASS IN THAT “enchanté” ok maam.

Yo I deadass forgot morgue guy’s name-

SISTER’S THOUGHTS :

Ryan and Carson need to be an old married couple (I suggested arguing over nancy like a divorced couple)

“Lilith is that you??” @ the white eyes corpse

EW SHE PUT IT IN HER POCKET.

“I thought it was gonna be like a yeti, blow her hair- BODY”

Both mom and Alexis hiding and shrieking as nancy looks around her house for the banging.

Punky Brewster ad, she goes “paget Brewster??”

“Those aren’t human! They’re not supposed to be in there” @whatever the fuck was in that body, said cheerfully and stupidly. 5 seconds later “Bess and Ace were too prepared for that apotoposty. (Pause for thinking)... autopsy.”

Starts calling the bugs “mouthboards” (she actually was calling them that the whole time)

Repeats “blinked” for thirty five seconds before pronouncing the i in any other way she can think of.

Fails at sliding down the railing because she couldn’t run downstairs fast enough before the show came on. Proceeds to crabwalk gallop back to her chair.

“That was scary!” (Said like Dean Winchester in “yellow fever”)

It’s called a vessel. 🖐🙄

WHY DO THEY DO EVERYTHING AT NIGHT.

“Scotland” but she said it in an awful British accent that was supposed to be Scottish-

“Seriously? Do they just lose Ted once every season now, or?”

*cryptic smooth beatbox dancing to end credit music?* update: she says it’s interpretive dancing...

She wants to know where Ryan is. “Why was he just MIA this whole time?”

#ace nancy drew #alex saxon #bess marvin #george fan #george fayne #nancy drew #nancy drew cw #ned nickerson #nick nancy drew #nancy drew thoughts #ndcw #ryan hudson #carson drew #detective Tamara

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danyka-fendyr · 5 years

Text

Don’t Call Me Pumpkin

Hey everyone! So, I’m determined to put out my promised 3 Spencer Reid Halloween fics, but also I’m a lazy hoe. Which brings us to where we are now. Me, watching The Haunting of Hill House, writing a Spencer Reid Halloween fic that takes place on a pumpkin farm. Because I desperately want to go to a pumpkin farm even though there is not one even anywhere remotely near me because I live in one of the sunniest places in the world now and pumpkins would DIE here. This has not been edited. Fight me.

Wordcount: 1681

Permanent Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

Warnings: None. All fluff. A little bit of innuendo.

“Spence, seriously, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere fun,” he promised.

“C’mon. At least give me a vague statistic for a hint baby.”

You fussed with the blindfold Spencer had reluctantly put on you. He hadn’t wanted to, but you had been more than up for it since you loved a good surprise. Spencer rarely surprised you, so you knew the surprise factor had to be important to him. Hence one of his purple ties currently being on your face.

“Okay.” You could hear him blushing from being called baby. “Over 800 million of what we’re going to see are currently available in the U.S.”

“Oh my gosh you’re taking me to a strip club?”

“No!” Spencer frantically objected.

You laughed. “I was kidding, Spence. I know that’s not your thing. You prefer blindfolds, right?”

You wiggled your partially obscured eyebrows.

“Sweetheart,” he whined.

“Hey, you know there’s no judgment from me. I hate handcuffs, so we’re even. But seriously, are we almost there?”

“Yeah, we are. Just a couple more minutes.”

You could hear gravel crunching under the wheels of the car, and you were forced to wonder once again where you were. Knowing your boyfriend, he could have taken you anywhere. He was almost never spontaneous, which only served to make his spontaneity more so. After a few moments, you felt the car come to a stop, and you couldn’t contain your grin.

“Are we here?”

“Your use of the present tense on the word here would indicate that you already know we are, in fact, here.”

“You’re right, I do. Now get me out of this car so we can do a dramatic blindfold removal!”

Spencer laughed before coming over to your side of the car and opening the door for you, taking your hand and helping you out. He placed his hands on your shoulders, steering you forward towards wherever he planned on taking off this blindfold, while you didn’t even bother trying to contain your smile. It smelled like dirt, and you had a few theories as to where you might be.

“Okay, are you ready?” He asked.

“No. There’s one more thing I want to do before you take off the blindfold. Can you turn me around?”

Confused, Spencer did as you asked, and you carefully placed your hands on his face so you had an idea of where you were going before you leaned forward and kissed him. Tasted like coffee and cinnamon, just like he always did. You could do this all day, but you had a surprise to get to, so you pulled back.

“What was that for?”

“So I could see if I liked it.” You shrugged.

“...Well? Did you?” He asked.

“Baby, I always like kissing you. Now let’s do this thing.”

“Okay pumpkin,” he said.

Every fiber in your body stiffened as it hit you. Spencer never called you pumpkin. You had to drive a while, certainly long enough to get out of the city. It smelled like fresh dirt.

At the same moment he removed the blindfold, you yelled, “Babe! Don’t call me pumpkin!”

You pouted, glaring over your shoulder at his handsome, handsome face.

“I waited until we were here!” He justified.

“Still ruined the whole surprise.” You sighed, staring out at the vast fields of pumpkins before you.

“Is it ruined if I say we can pick out any pumpkin you want?”

You gasped, suddenly giddy. “Can we get multiple pumpkins?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

“I love you!” You threw your arms around him, letting him catch you.

He laughed, setting you down again after a moment. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You two made your way through the pumpkin patches, and you both inspected every pumpkin that came your way. You had gone pumpkin hunting with Spencer before, so you knew how this worked. He was looking for a pumpkin that matched certain characteristics he had in mind, the most halloweeny pumpkin, the pumpkin to rule over all other pumpkins if you will. You, on the other hand, were looking for something a little bit less exact. You were on the hunt for your pumpkin.

You never knew what it was going to look like, but every year, you went in search of the pumpkin that was right for you. It called to you, in all of its sweet orange glory, a bright beacon in the midst of all of these other pedestrian pumpkins. It was somewhere in this field, waiting for you to find it. Your pumpkin soulmate, if you will, ready to be taken home with your more human soulmate.

“Do you see anything?” Spencer asked you.

Some years, you found your pumpkin in the first sweep of the fields. You would see it and you would just immediately know. Last year had been one of those years, and Spencer had come to dread them since they meant him wandering a pumpkin patch with a very heavy pumpkin in his arms that you insisted was your baby and that no one else could have. This year was not to be one of those years though.

“No. Not yet. Which is kind of a bummer since I was hoping to check you out. I didn’t get to stare at you in the car like I usually do. My day feels incomplete without a chance to drool over you. I’ve been deprived.”

Spencer blushed. He was so easily flustered. It was one of the things you had loved about him, even before you started dating. The cute little way his ears would turn red and he would stare down at his feet, fix his tie. Today he wasn’t wearing a tie though, instead, just a sweater that you knew was very, very soft from all the times you had stolen it from him.

“C’mon silly. Let’s go look for your elusive pumpkin.”

“You’re deflecting Dr. Reid,” you sing-songed.

“I am not deflecting, I am prioritizing. Can you think of anything more important than pumpkins right now?”

“You.”

An easy answer, and it made him blush again. It was going to be a great day.

It was set to be a great day regardless though. The sky was the perfect shade of cloudless, washed-out blue, almost gray, and the air was perfectly crisp. The dirt in the pumpkin patch was exactly the right consistency between dry and muddy, and overall, conditions seemed to be perfect. Plus Spencer knew how cold you got and made sure you had dressed appropriately.

You two wandered through the pumpkin fields for hours. It took Spencer a long time to find his pumpkin. He was pretty hardcore about exactly how long the vine had to be. You put him to shame though.

“Seriously love? Nothing yet?” Spencer said around a rather rotund pumpkin.

“No. But we’re close. I can feel it.”

You had been saying this for the past three hours since you had arrived.

“All I’m saying is, maybe we could take a break. I could take this guy back to the car, we could buy some apple cider...I hear it’s really good here.”

Your boyfriend’s persuasion meant nothing to you though, as you stopped dead in your tracks.

“That’s it.”

“What, the apple cider?”

“No, Spence, that’s it!” You said excitedly, pointing at one of the many orange gourds in the patch. “That’s the one!”

“Oh thank goodness,” Spencer huffed, adjusting the pumpkin already in his arms.

You beamed proudly at a rather large pumpkin. You might not be able to carry it, actually. You should have gotten a wheelbarrow, but you hadn’t exactly thought this through. It was incredibly round, but not too round, not quite preternaturally so. It’s vine was cut quite close, which you weren’t generally fond of, but you liked on this particular pumpkin. It looked a little dinged up, but you didn’t mind. It was the one.

“What are you going to name it?” Then, before you could answer. “Might I suggest Curbit?”

“Spence, my darling, I love you more than life itself, but that name sounds like Kermit the frog if he was a traffic cop.”

“It’s a shortening of Cucurbita Pepo, the technical name for pumpkin,” Spencer said, sounding slightly offended by your description of his name.

“Tell you what, next year I’ll name my pumpkin Curbit and you can name yours Pep, but this guy? This guy is a Gourdy.”

“Gourdy? You sure?”

“Yep. Positive.”

“Okay.” Spencer grinned at you over the top of his pumpkin.

“Now I just have to survive carrying him out of here.”

It wasn’t easy carrying Gourdy out of the pumpkin patch. It involved a lot of huffing and puffing from both of you since Spencer was still carrying his own pumpkin which he had named Peter. Eventually, though, you made it out and got yourself a wheelbarrow so that you could continue browsing your selection of gourds.

You and Spencer bought several different various other gourds, less picky in your pursuit of these. They would probably just end up eaten at the end of the day, so looks mattered less than potential taste. When you were finished though, you were more than satisfied with your selection.

“So, did you have fun today?” Spencer asked, wheeling your purchases back to the car.

“Um, heck yeah!”

“Good. I was hoping that would be a good surprise.” He smiled at you.

“It definitely was.” You picked up your pumpkin, setting it securely in the back of Spencer’s car before sticking your hand securely in Spencer’s back pocket. You absolutely adored the surprised look that crossed his face before fading into a very smug smirk. He leaned forward to kiss you, pulling you closer with one hand while the other tangled into your hair.

“Hey,” he said. “You know what I think we should do when we get home?”

You grinned, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. “Pumpkin carving?”

Spencer shook his head, laughing at you before detaching himself and putting his own pumpkin in the back of the car. “Yeah, pumpkin. That’s exactly what I think we should do.”

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds:ff #cm:ff #matthew gray gubler #mgg

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heartlandians · 4 years

Text

Throwback Thursday: Production Designer Rick Roberts answers fan questions! (June 2010)

Q: Hey Rick! I love Heartland, and of course the sets and scenery make it spectacular!!!! My question is, in the show Lou says to Tim that she bought most of the "Dude Ranch" decorations at yard sales, flea markets and the attic. Was that true, or where did you buy most of the decorations? Thanks! Posted by Jann on June 7, 2010 3:53 PM

A: I wish that were the case; however, my Set Decorators ( Lorraine Edwards, originally, for Seasons 1 & 2, and Laura Cuthill- Luft, currently, for Seasons 3 & 4) following consultations with myself which involve looking at examples, colour swatches, etc. pursue their sources and contacts which include antique dealers, furniture makers, private collectors, the "net" and even perhaps flea markets and garage sales. So the script was somewhat accurate in its tone, but the process was less "Lou" and more my staff...

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Q: Hello Rick! Heartland is a great show!! The sets are wonderful! Now, my question...Oh! When you were designing Lou's office, did you just print off a bunch of computer papers and stick them to the wall, or throw everything anywhere? How did it end up that the "neat-freak got a messy office", or was that just Marion? Posted by Janet on June 7, 2010 3:59 PM

A: The process of designing a set includes creating a furniture plan which the Set Decorator will use as a point of departure in decorating the set. In the case of Marion's office, which I believe you're referring to as "Lou's office," we had an interesting challenge. Marion was with us only briefly in episode 101, but her presence is with us through her family, and so we try to evoke that character in the decor of her space/ office, ie: her barrel racing, horse training, interest in equine homeopathy, etc. And she was a busy rancher with other priorities than "neat freak," perhaps with eclectic tastes and interests.

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Q: Hi Rick! Out of all the sets you've designed, what has been the most fun or creative set you've designed for Heartland? Posted by Kitty on June 7, 2010 4:02 PM

A: Of course the original design process of creating the Ranch and ranch house was great fun and challenging as we were creating "the world of Heartland" that would support and accommodate the story lines for seasons to come (while not knowing the details of those stories at that point in time). I can tell you of two sets that were great fun challenges to do (and very similar in requirement / process / & solution!) Think about last season's scripts... can you guess?

The horse transport accident in episode 301 required the creation of a highway wreck of a transport hauling a "national team" of equestrian players. We had to select the rig that would be seen as the "good one" rolling down the road, designing and applying appropriate graphics, etc. Then we had to find a "junker" trailer that matched the original in size and configuration, paint and graphic it to match, and then attack it with a track-hoe to crunch it, flip it on it's side, re-built rear doors as ramps to match and crunch them also. Then haul it all to site (a piece of highway that we could own for the day) have a wrecker flip it on it's side into position, scatter debris, shavings and manure, some cosmetic "blood," etc. Add people leading horses away, fire / rescue personnel, flashing red and blue lights, and unplanned for but effective, an overnight spring snow fall. I thought it worked well!

The other, similar set piece, was the plane crash from episode 310, when Scott and Ty go down in the bush while crossing the Rockies. Again the process was first to find a salvaged Cessna 172 (which we did with the help of Stephen at Global Aircraft Industries in Villeneuve, AB). Then we had to bring it to our shops in Calgary and set to work, again matching paint and graphics to the existing "flying double," and cut it up and crunch it further as appropriate to our scenario and story points. We actually had to "adjust" some of the damage from this Cessna's original accident as it had run out of fuel, nose planted and flipped straight over on its tail, a serious kink in the rear fuselage and tail that wasn't appropriate to our "crash".

We then hauled it to our "crash site", craned it into the forest, and arranged it in position as though it had glided in, shearing off some wing sections, running gear, etc. and nosing into an existing bank with already downed tree. We clipped the tops off spruce trees in the appropriate trajectory to it coming in, scattering debris on the flight path, scarring tree trunks where contact would have happened, etc. On the day we had some mist rising in the forest, we created some steam/ fumes rising from the engine compartment and sound provided the clicks and ticks of hot metal cooling in the still of the woods.

Analysis of the reality, selectivity of the details, practicality of making it shootable... that's the challenge of creating effective set pieces.

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Q: hey. I find you do an awesome job! my question for you is: how long did it take to make the house? Posted by alexandra on June 7, 2010 4:12 PM

A: In the Spring of 2007, after selecting the location and then following a design process of a couple of weeks, my Construction crew, under the direction of Dave " Grizz" Borley, Construction Co-ordinator Ian Wallace, Carp Foreman, and Simon Perrault, Lead Carp, built the Ranch House - Exterior in three weeks, along with re- configuring the corrals and the barn Interior, adding the barn office, etc. This included paint and landscaping. They then moved to the Calgary Studio and in two weeks we had the barn interior completed, and in three more weeks the Ranch House interior, complete with paint, furnishings and backings (the back drops for views out of the doors and windows).

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Q: Hi Rick! I know there must be many ways, but what's the number one way that you make the buildings such as the ranch house look so much older than they really are? Posted by JumperCowgirl on June 7, 2010 5:08 PM

A: The two basic ways of giving structures the look of some "age" are - 1) Alter the lines of the structure so they are no longer "true" ie. sag a roofline, wrack the whole building to bring the angles off 90 degrees (within reason, to avoid a cartoon look. This takes experience and judgement) and 2) Paint and texture to create the effects of time ie. build up of paint layers, softening of hard edges, weathering surfaces, effects of sun, crackling, flaking, gray aging of raw wood, exposing under layers of finish. The Heartland sets wouldn't look as authentic without the talents of Scenic Artist/ Paint Co-ordinator Tom Johnson. The aging process on exterior sets is never complete without the magic supplied by the Greens Dept., under the leadership and talents of "Big" John Dambraskus, in adding over growth around building bases, re-sodding with "long hair" sod and foliage of all size and type, both dead and alive.

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Q: Hi! When you got the job as the production designer for heartland and they first gave you an insight as to what the ambiance or the feel of the show would be how did you figure out what would work best? For example did you already have some idea or did you have to do some research etc. Thanks so much for taking the time out of your busy schedual to answer our questions! Posted by Free Spirit on June 7, 2010 6:53 PM

A: Generally in the design process, the script material gives you the physical requirements for staging the story, and then in conversations with producers, writers and episode directors leads to an interpretation of the tone, style, ambiance and mood that you wish to support or help to evoke with the sets and furnishings. If you as a designer are not familiar with the details of the world that you are creating, you will then do some extensive research on the subject, place, period, fashion, style, etc. to layer on to your interpretation of the "vision." Personally, as I am a westerner, born and raised, and in my career I have designed many "Westerns" (both period and contemporary), I know the world that Heartland inhabits pretty well, so little additional research was required. But by helping create and understand the history of the Bartlett / Fleming clan and the community of Hudson, it enriches the vision of the world we create for the characters to inhabit.

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Q: Hey Rick, Well may I say, you guys are awsome :D Have you done any other shows besides *Heartland* ? Posted by Calli on June 7, 2010 7:23 PM

A: I've been working in the film industry since the late 70's and as a Production Designer since 1986, I've done some feature films, lots of television movies and pilots. Much of it has been in a Western cultural genre. "Heartland" is the first television series I have designed. I had the good fortune to Art Direct (2nd in command of the Art Dept.) on some notable American projects, such as "Unforgiven," "Legends of the Fall," "Cool Runnings" and "Into the West."

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Q: My question is, How many stalls are actually in the barn? I love the design of it! Posted by Carly on June 8, 2010 12:16 AM

A: The Barn has 4 box stalls, a tack area, a feed area, and the stairs to the loft on the main floor plan, the design of which was based on the post configuration of the existing barn at the ranch site and what space requirements would allow. We built on the barn office addition to accommodate the script requirement.

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Q: Howdy from Australia! Great job on the show, especially on the ranch. How difficult is it staying the budget for the show? Posted by Natalie on June 8, 2010 4:15 AM

A: Really, not at all hard, I must say! Originally, in Season 1 we had some compromises to achieve what was required in the initial builds, but there was a lot to build in a short time to get us up and running. In subsequent seasons there have been major projects. In Season 2 we built the dude ranch and in Season 3 we had to move our interior sets to other studio spaces and we improved our Backings. Episode by episode, the budgets fluctuate to accommodate the demands of each different script, but we meet the challenges appropriately, creatively and responsibly... sometimes alternative solutions are presented, but in the end, creative producers make the ultimate decision in what gets spent, and it goes on the screen!

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Q: Dear Rick: How do you make the inside of the house appear bigger than it actually looks from the outside? Also, how much does weather affect your sets? Posted by Cindy on June 8, 2010 2:59 PM

A: I guess you are on to us! By actually making it slightly bigger, mostly deeper than the exterior set actually is, but we don't usually see the exterior house close up from that side angle. It is sort of a false perspective in the service of economics - if we aren't going to see it, let's spend the money somewhere else where we are going to see it.

Weather doesn't really affect the core sets, as they are built to cope with 4 seasons of our environmental conditions and we continually tweak things, such as site drainage, leaks, etc. However, as much of this show does take place Exterior, or outside in the elements, weather can play a large role in the day to day shooting of the series, particularly continuity wise, as we tend to Block shoot ie. everything at the Dude for two back to back episodes will be shot on our one day at the Dude, and if it snows that day we're going to see it for two weeks, and it may not have snowed at the Heartland ranch set, "just around the corner and over the hill" so to speak. In the episodic sets we try to cover ourselves for weather possibilities by having an indoor arena somewhat close to wherever we may be working at an outdoor arena if a move is necessary, but we "pretty much shoot whatever way the wind blows, and what comes with it!"

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Q: Hey Rick, Heartland is one of the best shows ever!! Absolutely me and my sister's favourite!! My question is: does Heartland own the cars you see in the episodes? Like Ty's antique Ford and Ashley's BMW and Jake's Chev? Thanks for taking the time to answer my question. Posted by Suzy on June 8, 2010 3:38 PM

A: Heartland owns Jack's and Ty's trucks as they play in virtually every episode, as we have to have absolute control of all picture vehicles that we see on a regular basis. For others, such as Ashley's BMW, our Transport Co-ordinator Bill Jansen secures and rents these vehicles from "reliable" sources so he can get them back when they are next scheduled to play on camera. Jack's original gold Chevy was rented for the pilot (as one never knows if the show will be picked up) and was continued on a rental basis (from a private owner) for the first two years. Even at reasonable rates, it was decided that it would be better to own it, but we couldn't acquire it (The owner had a serious sentimental attachment, not unlike Jack!) So, in episode 303 it dies, and Jack acquires a new "old favourite" truck (the New Goldie) and we have to find a junker match to the original to paint to match the existing one, then put it up on blocks in the "back 40" and (with added history) the show goes on!

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Q: Hey Rick! I love Heartland, and am starting to realize how each person is so important in keeping the beautiful balance that we see every Sunday! My question for you is: did you ever study or have an interest in architecture or building? Thanks for doing a great job, and answering all these questions! Posted by Teri on June 8, 2010 6:26 PM

A: I guess I have always had some interest in architecture, but certainly not as a career. I trained as a theatrical designer - sets, costumes, and lighting (at the University of Alberta) and I practiced that profession for over a decade prior to switching to the film industry. I have also done architectural design, both new construction and renovation, commercial, agricultural and residential, for select private clients, some on a repeat basis, most in Southern Alberta.

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Q: Hey Rick! :D You do an amazing job on everything in heartland. If it was different, it would not be the same, and I'm sure it would not be better either. My question is: What was the hardest thing to deside to make on the set. Like, did you have a lot of ideas of what the ranch house would look, or the dude ranch cabins? Thanks so much, and keep doing an amazing job for seasons and seasons to come! (lets all hope!) Posted by Allison on June 9, 2010 9:58 PM

A: Just some thoughts to try and answer your question, Allison... One can have a whole lot of ideas, but my main responsibility as the Designer is to implement ideas that manifest themselves as solutions to challenges in telling the stories... stylistic imagery and spatial solutions that support the demands of the script.... collaboration with the director in how he wishes to unravel the tale! Perhaps the broad strokes, as the beginnings, are harder... the details follow accordingly!

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Q: Hi Rick, love the show! I'm going to ask a random question because I feel random right now... what's your favourite pasttime when you're not working? Thanks for answering questions! Posted by Milly on June 9, 2010 10:27 PM

A: More Work! I would have to say spending the time on my own ranch, where the "To Do" list seems to be an endless scroll... especially when "Heartland" is an 8 month gig during the least frozen months of the calendar!

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Q: Hi Rick, Can you come and decorate my place! Just kidding! Seriously do you get a rough idea of what the set will be and then shop for it esp the interiors and/or are you always scanning yard sales, shops etc and looking out for stuff that would fit into the general Heartland look? I notice the bedrooms have changed with each season as it likely would with teenagers and yet everything looks like its been there for ever.â€̈Congrats Rick and team. Posted by meg on June 10, 2010 6:35 PM

A: I'm lucky to have an extremely dedicated and talented team in the Set Decoration Dept. who love to shop for this stuff, and after consultation, I'm happy to let them run with it.... see also an earlier answer.

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Q: Hi Rick, What's your favourite part of your job and what's your least favourite? Thanks for answering! Posted by Francesca on June 10, 2010 9:56 PM

A: Favourite: Payday Fridays, after a week of good productive work. The least? Wet weather Mondays, a potential crisis to deal with, and then mud bogs to repair!

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Q: Wow Rick, what a cool job you have! I must say that the rustic Albertan feel to the ranch and all the other locations are so extremely pleasing to the eyes, well done! I was wondering what kind of education is required to lead you to a production design job? and why did you decided to become a production designer? As always, keep up the awesome work, we're all looking forward to feasting our eyes on whatever you and your design team come up with in the new season! Posted by Dalaigh on June 11, 2010 2:06 PM

A: As mentioned in a previous answer, I trained at the University of Alberta in Theatre Design- Set, Costume and Lighting and practiced that profession for over a decade before starting to cross over. I did an apprenticeship as an assistant art director while learning the difference in media prior to gaining the position of Production Designer for independent feature film productions.

I also gained valuable learning experience as an Art Director working with noted Production Designers on major American feature films, such as the late Henry Bumstead ("Unforgiven") and Lilly Kilvert ("Legends of the Fall"). Basically I made the switch from theatre to film and television because I found the theatre for me to be limited in scope, financial resources to work with, and career return as a way to make a living, raise a family and maintain a lifestyle in Alberta, although certainly equal in the creative challenges. As a designer in either medium, I enjoy my role in collaborative story telling.

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Q: hi Rick i am a huge fan of heartland it is the most amazing show ever! and you are so lucky that you get to be apart of it! My question for you is what has been the most challenging set to create while working on heartland? Posted by Ashley on June 7, 2010 8:32 PM

A: I would have to say that the creation of the Dude Ranch in both it's stages, both the original derelict ranch site of falling down barns, bunk houses, etc. in three weeks for episode. 202, and then turning it all around into the finshed renovated and new cabins, horse corrals, and dock, etc. in the next three weeks for episode 204, during a very wet spring, would rank as one of the most challenging experiences so far on the series.

The site of the Dude Ranch on the lakeshore also happens to be the main drainage for the little valley. All that rain was running right through the centre of our construction site which soon became just a mud bog in which you could sink in up to your waist if you got off the boardwalk path. The road access was about a quarter mile away as the planned approach couldn't be built while it was still so wet. Thus all materials had to be hand carried in, and it was southern Alberta monsoon season of June with rain every day for about two weeks straight (or so it seemed, looking back now). I really have to credit the guys for stickin' with it and getting it done "on time & on budget!" The people you work with on a day to day basis behind the scenes always come through in the crunch and get 'er done!

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Q: Hello Rick. Thank you for being in Heartland the 'look' of Heartland is great and so is the Flemming house. Well done. Heartland is awesome!! :) My question is: Do you use a sheet screen of a certain photo outside of houses/buildings when you're filming inside? To make sure you have the right look outside? Thanks very much for answering. Have a nice day. Posted by Firefly on June 8, 2010 7:56 AM

A: Currently the backing we use for the Ranch house Interior set onstage at the studio is 135 feet long by 16 feet high, wrapping right around the front of the set to cover all the window and door angles on the front side. Process Color Print Ltd., a Calgary firm, digitally printed it on a non-reflective cotton material. The process is an extension of the billboard advertising technology. We have 5 different sets of backdrops, both for the house and the barn, to accommodate the seasonal changes in the look at Heartland Ranch.

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Q: Okay, the person who normally asks this is M.I.A (ahem by the way Twe, where are you?! I'm doing your job here for you!!), so I'll ask it... Rick, what's your favourite "comfort food"?

A: Being an Albertan and a (part-time) rancher, my favourite food is medium rare beef strip or tenderloin, barbecued, and preferably my own, grass fed "natural" beef from 24 month old black steers with no growth hormones! Serve that up with home fries, baked beans and a Caesar salad, with maybe a little homemade pie for desert!

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fatbisexual · 4 years

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tell them hoes that its crunch time. abdomen

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taetae-tea · 5 years

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Twelve Days

A/N: I have this story originally on my new Wattpad account: @a_sad_pandas_corner, where I will poste the episodes of this series more frequently. So if you want to keep up with the story I recommend you read it there :).

Chapter: Day 1 - The Mystery-man

Genre: Loverboy!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, smut

Paring: Taehyung X reader

Word-count: 4.3K

Warnings: Sexual content, groping, kissing, pinning, parent-problems, splitting parents.

Summary: Only few can keep the good and the bad people apart in one look. When your first look upon Kim Taehyung found place, you thought you knew which of the two he was. Some people are wrong in those moments and will move on, but you aren’t ‘some people’ and that has gotten you at wrong places.

Masterlist

Twelve and a half days ago…

It’s about 11 pm when you hear them again, yelling at each other with all the rage of the world. You’re sitting on your bed, looking down at your hands as you try to ignore all the noise coming from outside your room. Something breaks downstairs, sounding like a vase or maybe a glass? You grab your phone, which lies besides you. You turn up the volume of the music you’re listening right now, focusing on it. It’s now on its highest volume, the noise now making crunching sounds through the song. It’s almost irritating to listen to, but everything is better than the yelling voices of your parents. You lay yourself back on your bed, hiding under your blankets as you close your eyes. Just try to ignore it.

You were never the type to be influenced by anyone. A strong person, that’s how you saw yourself a year ago. That was until your parents started to have certain problems with each other. Well… these problems were always an issue. It was only until their buckets were full and the ‘issues’ couldn’t be ignored anymore. It was actually about 10 weeks ago that your father called its quits with your mother, after about 2 years of couple’s therapy. Your house fell apart and you are caught right in the middle of it. And of course, that isn’t even the issue. It’s their problem, not yours. But when your mother wakes you up in the middle of night, crying about your father and only talking bad about him, that does make you very sad.

Why can’t she fucking move on already.

You suddenly hear a door being slammed close, sounding like the front door. You quickly get out of your bed, holding your phone in your hand as you look out of your window. You see your father walking away from the house, kicking some bushes on the sidewalk out of rage. Your eyes are looking sad as you see him walking away for the hundredth time in the past few weeks. Splitting parents always have business to take care of, like the economic aspects. But they can’t agree on anything. Your mom doesn’t really have a great job, being an elderly-caretaker. And she loves her job. She is one of those people who only wants to give and loves every single human being. She judges no one and wouldn’t want to lose a single soul out of her life. Your father, on the other side, is a train operator and has a solid income. Together they could afford this house. But since my mom can keep the house, she would have to pay it herself, though she obviously can’t. So now they argue about that, along with my mom who just wants her husband back in her life.

You see him turn a corner, now showing his angry-looking face for a split second. He just goes away like that, not caring

‘He hasn’t even said goodbye to me’, you whisper to yourself as a tear makes its way down your face.

You start focusing on the stars, which shining as pretty as always. Your family falls apart and you can’t do anything about it. How things like this can make a strong woman like you, make you cry on a beautiful evening like this. You often blame yourself for making it so personal, to feel so sad about it. Like it’s your own fault for making it influence you. ‘Your father is an asshole’, you hear as your mother comes in. You put off your earphones as you face her. Her eyes look tired as she sits down on your bed and starts to cry. ‘He has a girlfriend (y/n), the same woman from 4 years ago. He has cheated on me’, She almost yells, her face resting in the palms of her hands.

These nights always go like this. She gets mad at your father for some reason and you have to find your way through it. You love your dad and your mom equally. They don’t understand that, sharing everything with you and slowly makes you broken inside. You would never share your problems with your child like this; you simply don’t know what to do. You feel guilty, sad and just want to get away from the situation. But that’s not today, because your mother needs you. And that’s what you’re going to do. You will hear everything and you will ignore the way you feel about it. Because your mother has no one to turn to, she is alone in this and you’re the only one she could let her heart out to. Even though it makes you sad, you will let it be.

‘Hey, you okay’, Jimin asks you as he approaches your desk, sitting right next to you. You lift your head up from your desk as you had taken a small nap. ‘Yeah, just tired. That’s all.’ You stretch your back as you let out a yawn, now facing Jimin. He smiles at you, making you a bit happier too. He always has the ability to do that, make you happy on moments you thought you couldn’t be.

His hand makes its way to your neck, slowly massaging it. It’s really his thing to do when he notices you aren’t feeling that well. He just doesn’t use any words, because if you wanted to talk about it, you would’ve done that by now. So instead he just tries to sooth you with his hands and it truly does miracles. It’s a warm feeling that starts to glow right by your heart, a good friend. A friend you’ve known since second grade when he came live here with his family. He couldn’t really speak any English, since they are from Korea and were trying to seek that ‘American dream’ elsewhere. When you look at Jimin now, you see happiness, and that is way of an improvement from when you had just met him. He was such a scared little boy. You were the first one to try to make friends with him, but that was because you were quite an outsider too. Together you’ve grown and you’d never want to lose him.

‘Talk to me when you’re ready’, He says with his soothing voice, before loosing his grip on you as the professor walks in. The class begins, finally a moment you can stop thinking about all the bad things.

‘Sooo… Tonight’, Jimin begins his sentence, looking with bright eyes at you. You huff as you shake your head, remembering your promise to him. You open your locker, changing your books for the next class ‘Applied Psychology’.

‘You better keep the promise’, He says as he punches your shoulder. You scoff, giving him a sarcastic expression. ‘Yeah Jimin, I will wear that playboy outfit, but I swear if you don’t I will-‘. He interrupts you by blocking your mouth with his hands. ‘Silence my child; you know I’m a hoe; of course I will come dressed up like a stripper. How could you doubt me’, He says and he has a point. If someone is a diva, it’s this mess beside you. You shake your head out of disbelieve at what he just said before you start licking his hand, wanting him to let you go. ‘Hey! You dirty girl, save that for some dick’, He yells as he tries to dry his hand on his jeans. You look at him with mischief, winking at him before making your way to your class.

‘See you on 8 pm at my place’, you yell at Jimin before disappearing between the crowds.

‘Hey mom, tonight is that party I talked about. So I will go to Jimin around 8 to get dressed’, you say mindlessly as you walk into the living room. She hums, focused on her laptop, seeming to play some game. You sigh to yourself, putting your back on the dining table before getting a glass of milk out of the kitchen. She doesn’t really have any attention for you anymore. You don’t blame her though. She has it difficult. ‘You know (y/n), that skank your father is now with has mental issues. She has borderline your father told me 4 years ago. She had said she would try to find someone’s weakness and use that to get what she wants.’ Your mother starts telling. You immediately feel miserable; you don’t want to hear this. You don’t care and your mother shouldn’t either.

‘So? That’s his problem and maybe this woman has changed’, you try to reason. Your mother shakes her head. ‘No this woman tries to break this family.’ You scoff. ‘You didn’t need that woman for that’, you say like it’s obvious.

‘(y/n), my life is a complete mess because of this. It hurts and I don’t want to do anything.’ You want to go away. ‘I don’t want to fucking live anymore (y/n), I can’t see any reason anymore.’

And suddenly your rage goes from a zero to a hundred.

‘Don’t fucking joke about that shit mom, you fucking have me. You need to get over your sorry self. It’s your own fault for being in this shit, you could’ve been over this for weeks, but you don’t do shit. You just keep on playing the victim’, you yell, anger dripping off of your words. You can’t take it anymore. Everything, why hasn’t it stopped yet. Why can’t your mom get over it and try to rebuild her life? It has been 2 months already, maybe even more. She keeps on asking my father these questions and she keeps on getting bad answers, because he IS getting over all of it. He is moving on, he wants a new life. She keeps on making you meddle into it and you’ve never asked for it. ‘Mom I can’t do this today, I’m going to Jimin’, you say before storming out of the house, taking your back with you. You go to the nearest bus stop and take the first bus to Jimin’s neighborhood. You put your earphones in, put on some sad music and jus let yourself cry. You need to let it out; you don’t care what other people think. Holding it in it never the right option, is what you’ve learned. Fuck everyone, all toxic people. They just need to go out of your life and annoy someone else.

Your body stiffens up as you feel a hand being placed on your shoulder. You turn around to the person as you pull your earphones away. It’s a guy, an unfamiliar guy. His eyes look worried, as he seemed to have asked you something. Your heart starts to race as you remember that you were just crying your eyes out and you immediately start to dry your tears. You laugh slightly out of shyness, not knowing really what to say at this point accept ‘Sorry, had a bad day.’ His face clears up a bit as he sits next to you. ‘Good, a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be crying like that’, he notes as he helps you cleaning your eyes. You look at him with aw as his soft hands make their way across your face.

He is around your age, probably older. His skin looks soft and has a caramel tone. His eyes are a bit moon-shaped and they spark joy, like Jimin’s do. Your eyes scan his hair, beautiful and puffy, his lips also look so plump and kissable. He is a gorgeous human being, that’s for sure. He even knows how to dress and that’s not something you could say from many men. His hand is still caressing your face before slowly letting go, smiling at you as he does.

‘You a bit better?’ he asks as he sits back a bit, looking you up and down for a split second. You nod, blushing a bit. He laughs slightly as he grabs your cheek, squishing it in a cute manner. You whine a bit, hating it when people do that but still smiling because it’s this guy. ‘Oh! Whining now? I see how it is’, he says as he laughs. You look up at him with mischief, your body leaning up against him as you flirt a bit. How can you blame yourself? He is hella handsome.

You suddenly hear a voice calling a street, being the street you need to be at. You quickly push the ‘stop’ button, signaling the driver to stop by the next bus station. ‘Sorry, this is my stop’, you say to the unknown man. He scoffs as he stands up, making way for you to come by. You show him a small smile as you try to walk past him, but he grabs your arm, making you turn around. His face is suddenly very close, making your eyes widens and heart to pound very quickly. He now shows a smirk before saying: ‘I hope we meet again.’ He lets go of your arm and you almost stumble away, still catching yourself as the bus stops. Your heart still pounds like crazy when you step out of the bus. You turn your focus to the bus, trying to catch a small sight of the mystery man. He sits on your old place in the bus, smirking down at you and sending you a wink. You huff at the sight, did that really just happen?

You continue your way to Jimin’s house, being only 20 minutes away. It’s at this point that you try to get that guy out of your head and to focus back on the real world. It’s about 5 o’clock; you went away from home early because your mother made you crazy. Now you’re here without your Halloween costume and without any other items to stay over at Jimin’s. Great, I should’ve thought this through before I stormed out of there.

You arrive at the apartment complex. You walk up the 4 stairs to Jimin’s floor and clock on his door. It takes a bout a few seconds before someone opens the door. It’s Jimin, seemingly just gotten out of bed. He has a questionable expression on his face.

‘Why so early?’

‘I didn’t want to be home’, you simply say. There is no need to lie to him, he knows your struggles and you trust him enough. ‘I forgot my costume though’, you confess, having a painful expression on your face, because you know he wouldn’t be happy to hear that at all. And you were right, because his face went from worried to very unimpressed. ‘You serious (y/n)’, He says with much disappointment.

You look at him with the saddest eyes you could possibly make. He shakes his head. ‘No, that face isn’t going to work on me.’ You start to pout, hoping he will buy it. You even make a step closer, grabbing his arm. ‘I had to storm out Jimin, please forgive me…’ you say as sad as you could. He sighs as he looks at you for a few seconds more. He then nods for you to come inside. You immediately smile as you do a little dance before going inside. ‘You’re the best!’

‘What will you wear though’, Jimin asks as he walks to the kitchen, making some tea for you to calm down. ‘I don’t know, I don’t think I want to dress up anymore’, you confess, sitting down on the kitchen counter. He looks with a quite shocked expression at you. ‘No no, you’re going in a costume’, he says, pouring hot water in a cup, ‘you will look bad beside me honey.’ You scoff, like you care about that. You always look bad beside him; he’s one good-looking boy. ‘I look like this Jimin, maybe you can paint my face like a clown, that I am anyways’, you say, making Jimin laugh. ‘You are speaking facts.’ You make a offended-noise, slapping his shoulder before taking the cup of tea he had just prepared for you. ‘That’s good enough I guess’, Jimin says, ‘And if you just loose the leggings, shorten that skirt a bit and make that shirt a crop-top, it should work.’ Jimin looks at your body as he pictures it in your mind before nodding to himself. ‘A sexy clown.’ You laugh at his comment, shaking your head.

‘Sounds like a plan then.’

‘You sure 10 pm isn’t too eraly’, Jimin asks as the both of you walk up to a big house. You pull your shoulders up, but when you come closer to the house, you already see many people inside. ‘Shouldn’t be a problem I guess.’

You ring the doorbell before waiting for someone to open the door. You can hear the loud music from the inside, people dancing and laughing. People are quite early partying already, maybe even drunk. Then you know a party is good. The door opens and you see Joy standing in the opening. She has the classic cat-woman outfit on and it hugs her body on all the right places. You immediately feel Jimin making a step closer, making you huff. Sometimes he is such a dog for anything sexual and not only with girls. But that’s him, a great but sexual best friend. And not even one time has he tried anything with you, being in a more of a brother-sister relationship. That would just be unnatural.

‘Joy, looking great as always’, Jimin notes as he takes another step closer to her. Her expression becomes smiley and a bit shy, like any other girl reacts on him. He really is one of the good-looking men on school and you being his best friend, does put some pressure on you some times. There are always rumors about you two being together, girls are therefore jealous on you. You got used to it though and you would never let yourself being driven away from Jimin. He is your best-friend-soulmate.

Joy let’s the both of you inside, immediately stepping into a whole other universe. Everywhere around you are people in costumes, ones more serious than the other ones. Mostly it’s just sexy and skintight costumes by the girls and very simple costumes or the guys. Everyone seems to have a great time, dancing on the beat of the music and others just kissing one another in some corner. It’s a good party, you can tell, what’s quite rare. Some people really just don’t know how to throw one. Ones Jimin and you went to some party where people were just playing games on the ground, no music and a bit alcohol. Jimin and you just went outside and held your own party with some beers and night-talks. Actually one of the most rememberable moment with Jimin, how lame that party even was. Great talks are hard to forget.

‘I’ll get us some drinks’, Jimin yells over the music, before leaving you in the crowd. You just walk over to a couch, which was half-covered with kissing teenagers. A few years ago, you would’ve stayed away from these kinds of scenes, but you’ve learned not to care about it. Jimin always just takes you to all the parties and you’ve actually met a few people because of that. You’ve made more friends and you’ve become more social.

You let your gaze scan through the room. The house is quite big, being a single house and Joy having rich parents. She often throws parties like these, since her parent let he. One of the perks of being rich I guess, though it’s quite sad that her parents don’t really care. They never had really cared, Joy once told you when she had thrown another party, being drunk as fuck and telling you all her secrets. She also told you she had a big crush on Jimin, but that she isn’t trying to be friends with you because of that. She genuinely thinks you’re cool, so now you’re friends.

Your eyes fall upon a group guys in the corner, seeing Jimin merge between them with his two drinks for you still in his hands. He greets a few guys and then reaches one particular guy, Jungkook. Jimin always loves to come closer to this guy at parties, for intimate reasons. It normally takes about 30 minutes until they had gone off to some corner of room, but this time it apparently took about 3 minutes. You laugh to yourself upon seeing the two already kissing, Jimin pushing Jungkook away and probably telling him that he has to bring the drinks to me. You see Jimin walking back to you, a happy expression across his face.

‘You horny bitch’, you yell at him as he gives your drink. He just winks at you before heading off back to Jungkook, who receives him with open arms. You scoff before drinking your drink and standing up. You go take a little walk through the crowd, looking for someone you know, which you for some reason don’t find. The bodies around you just jump around you on the music as you try to get through them and to not let your drink fall, which fails.

‘Fuck’, you curse to yourself as the drinks falls over your white shirt, which is now see-through. You quickly try to make your way to a bathroom, so you could try to clean it. When you find a bathroom, you open it, being lucky no one is in there kissing or anything. You close the door behind you and all the music has suddenly become silent. Only faint noises could now be heard, locking you in a quiet save-space. Again another universe where you could take a break from the loud people. Though you’ve just been here for a few minutes, so much rest is not needed. But you can’t really find anyone you know; you mostly see a lot of freshmen, new faces actually. It’s a chance to meet new people, but you’re not really up for that. You weren’t really up for this party anyways, not after last night, no. You’d rather just be in bed, watch some Netflix maybe. But Jimin wanted you to come with and maybe some distraction wouldn’t hurt.

You get a tissue and try to clean your shirt, looking at yourself in the mirror as you do so. Suddenly the door opens, making you turn to the person.

‘What?’

The now familiar face stands in front of you and your heart immediately begins to pound faster. It’s him, the mystery man. His skin is still as beautiful as ever, his eyes and his lips still so remarkable. His face turns happy the moment he sees you, but also surprised and probably mirroring your face. He recognizes you, you think at least. He is easily recognizably, being in a Joker-costume but only having the slightest of make-up on. You are in full-covered clown make-up, making it a bit harder.

‘It’s my cry-baby!’ He exclaims as he closes the door behind him, walking up to you. ‘And you’re the mystery-man!’ You say in the same tone. He smiles with much joy, looking you up and down. He gives you a satisfies expression, grabbing your waist as he pulls you closer to him. You let out a little squeak, as your face now looks shocked by being this close to him. ‘I guess you’re now the Harley Quinn to my Joker, hmm?’ His voice is suddenly very deep, his face so close to yours as he barely touches your lips. You swallow, mouth watering by the beauty of this man. You allow yourself to let your hands slide up his torso. You want to feel him closer to you, the attraction is not normal. You feel his hands do the same thing, hands dragging up your skin and feeling every curve. Your whole body leans into his touch, maybe even pleading fro more. His expression is dark and even devilish as he shows a smirk.

‘You want more’, He notes and you let out a sigh upon feeling him grabbing your ass, squishing it softly. You haven’t let yourself being this open this quickly before, but you don’t think you will regret this. You let your hands slide down to his belt, slowly rubbing what’s under it and you can feel it grow under your tough. It was now his turn to let out a growl, pulling you closer as he curses: ‘Shit baby, you really are a horny bitch aren’t you.’ You’ve never been called this before, but you don’t mind. You only get wetter upon hearing him calling you things. You want him, now.

His lips finally touch you, as he had kept on teasing you. His kiss is filled with lust as he backs you up to the bathroom wall. He pins you up against it as you arch yourself into his body. You both breathe loudly into each other’s mouth, kissing with much passion, his hands holding yours high above your head. His kisses turn passionate and before you knew, were his lips on your neck. You feel your body rill by the feeling, knees feeling weak, as you want him to just fuck you against this very wall. You want all of him right now, dick pounding into you.

He suddenly lets you go, stepping away from you. He smirks down at you as you look confused back at him. He suddenly has your phone in his hands, your eyes widen as you try to grab it away from him. He just holds it very high in his hands, as he seems to dial someone. ‘Give back!’ You yell, jumping to get the phone, but he is too fast. He runs around as you follow him through the bathroom and when he is finished, he gives your phone back like nothing has happened. You frown at him, checking your phone on what he has just done.

‘That’s my number’, he says when you see he has called someone. You cock your head to the side. ‘I thought it would be nice to know you first before I-‘, he grabs your waist again and pulls you close, his lips beside your ear, ‘fuck you real good.’ You feel another wave of pleasure going through your body by hearing that sentence.

He lets you go again, winking at you before disappearing out of the room, back into the crowd. You just stand there, clothes everywhere and make-up ruined.

‘He really is something.’

Hope you liked it! ~

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Mateo's Eight, chapter five (Branjie)--athena2

A/N: Previously: Brooke and Vanessa grew closer together, but Vanessa kicked Brooke off the con team Now: Vanessa accepts that she needs Brooke’s help, and we find out more about their past.

Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! Every time I read your comments I get so soft and happy, and I would love it if you could leave some more on this chapter! Thank you times 3,000 to Writ for betaing this chapter. This was a tricky one, and I’m so grateful for your help on it <3

—

Vanessa slams her apartment door with a satisfying rattle. Her mother is still at work, Vanessa again hit with guilt for her mother working so hard. It’s another reminder of how much they need this plan to succeed. But it won’t. Not without Brooke.

Vanessa paces her room, doing that breathing thing Brooke showed her. Accepting Brooke’s help opposes every fiber of Vanessa’s being, but it works, and in a minute, she’s calm, heart slow and steady. Unfortunately, now that the anger has cleared, all she can see is the mess she made, her dreams shattered before they could begin.

She knows Brooke made a schedule for the event, what needs to be done and when. Vanessa can try to make her own, but it won’t be as accurate or as smooth as Brooke’s, and something could go wrong. And Brooke is responsible for getting Plastique into the bathroom.

She can’t do this without Brooke. But can Vanessa trust her, when Brooke already gave her up? She knows how desperate Brooke is, how much she needs that money, and Vanessa is banking on that desperation to be enough for Brooke to hold up her end. The con is over unless Vanessa gets Brooke back, and she groans in frustration.

And to top it all off, why did her heart nearly leap out of her chest when Brooke gave her pizza? Why has resuming their banter been so easy, so natural and fun? Why is the heart necklace Brooke gave her still sitting on her dresser, when she meant to pawn it off days ago?

She scoops up the necklace, the smooth gold sending a shiver through her body. Brooke had been so excited to give it to her, hands so eager they kept fumbling the clasp. Vanessa called it her good luck charm, had worn it the day of the gallery con. The day their luck ran out.

Vanessa drops into bed, a pillow over her face like it can block out her problems and the memories of Brooke. The past few weeks, she hasn’t been able to get Brooke’s smile out of her head, tear her eyes away from how she bites her lip when she writes. It was like that when they were together, every action of Brooke’s so graceful, so delicate, that even mundane things like making the bed left Vanessa in a breathless awe.

She sighs and yanks the covers up. Tomorrow she’ll talk to A’keria, someone calm and reasonable, to help her see what to do. Vanessa breathes slowly until she’s asleep, mind betraying her with dreams of Brooke all night.

—

“Two points, baby!” Vanessa slams a loaf of bread into the cart.

“If you smashed my bread we’re not going grocery shopping together anymore,” Brooke threatens, but she’s smiling too much for it to have any weight.

“Our bread,” Vanessa corrects, because last week she moved box after box into Brooke’s apartment, which is now their apartment. Brooke even scooped her up and carried her through the door as Riley yipped at their heels, both of them laughing so hard Brooke almost dropped her a few steps in.

“Our bread,” Brooke agrees.

The cart fills up and Vanessa can hardly believe that the chicken and vegetables are going to the same place, that they’ll make tonight’s dinner with it. She can’t believe they’ve already spent five months together, each one the best of Vanessa’s life, falling asleep on Brooke’s couch and doing much more than sleeping in her bed, cooking and talking about their dreams for the future. Vanessa has always fallen hard, and Brooke’s smile makes her fall further each day, ready to spend her life with Brooke.

“You think you’re bringing Frosted Flakes into our household? We a Cinnamon Toast Crunch family,” Vanessa says.

“We can be both.” Brooke grins. “Tony the Tiger and those creepy cinnamon squares side-by-side.”

“They’re not creepy, they’re cute.”

“Just like you,” Brooke says. Vanessa’s heart leaps as Brooke takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“That’s cheesy,” Vanessa says, smiling all the same. “Ooh! Speaking of cheesy, let’s get Cheetos!” She and Brooke did an old-fashioned hustle on some businessman at a bar yesterday, pretending to be clueless at pool and taking his money when they “miraculously” won, and Vanessa wants to splurge while they can.

Cheetos secured, Vanessa leaps on the cart and glides to the florist stand, ignoring Brooke’s pleas that she be careful and the dirty looks people give her. She longingly strokes glossy tulip petals. “Brooke, can we get these? My mom says to get flowers when you get a new place.”

The apartment technically isn’t new to Brooke, but it’s new to her, new to them, and Vanessa can just imagine eating dinner with a vase of the soft pink tulips shining between them.

“Of course we can,” Brooke says. “They’re beautiful.”

“Just like you.” Vanessa winks.

“Now who’s cheesy?” Brooke teases.

“Almost forgot the Cheez-Its!”

—

“I think I need to call off the plan.” Vanessa gets right to it after A’keria sits down on her bed.

“Why?”

Vanessa recaps the botched pickpocketing and the fight. “I don’t know if I can trust her after everything,” Vanessa finishes, expecting A’keria to jump to her support.

But A’keria is quiet, staring into the pink quilt. “What were you thinking?” She demands.

“What–”

“You don’t need to get caught doing street cons when you’re on parole! And Brooke is right, he could’ve hurt you.”

“I know.” Vanessa sighs. She’s never had a close call like that, and she can still feel his fingers digging into her arm, legs still quaking with the fear she refused to let Brooke see.

Now it’s Akeria’s turn to sigh. “You need to just talk to Brooke. Get those feelings out, maybe get some closure.”

“Okay, Dr. Phil.” Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious,” A’keria says. She points to the dresser. “You still got Brooke’s necklace. You’re always staring at her. You laughed with her last week, and it was real.” She pauses. “And have you seen Brooke? That hoe’s a walking stress blob and the only time she’s calm is around you. Not to mention she saved your ass last night.”

“I know!” Vanessa huffs, cheeks ablaze, because A’keria notices too much, and her observations are never wrong.

Vanessa can’t let go of the necklace, can’t let go of the memories, can’t let go of the fear that Brooke never loved her at all, had just been waiting to turn her into the cops. What if their relationship meant nothing to Brooke? Vanessa doesn’t think her heart could take that on top of everything else. But if Brooke is this stressed after the breakup, that can’t be true. And Brooke loves–loved–her, Vanessa is sure of that. There’s no faking the noises Brooke made in bed, the soft I love you’s whispered into her skin afterwards, the utter devotion in Brooke’s eyes when they ate dinner. So then how had Brooke given her up? It didn’t make sense, though Vanessa was too mad to care about sense in prison. Maybe Vanessa does need closure, to find out what happened that day.

“Don’t you hate when I’m right?” A’keria gloats.

Vanessa swats at her. “I still don’t know about working with her.”

A’keria lays a hand on Vanessa’s arm. “Look, Vanj, I know it’s hard for you to trust Brooke. And you know I love you. But there’s other people involved. Silky might lose her job. Scarlet might lose her store. My stepfather keeps trying to kick me out. I need that money. A lot of us do.”

A’keria never raises her voice, and her calm tone only makes things worse. It’s just like the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ speech Vanessa would get from her father, and the guilt hits her like a truck, face burning with shame.

“A’keria–”

“If you need to call this off, I respect that,” A’keria says seriously. “Make sure you take care of yourself. But just think about what you, and all of us, are gonna lose.”

Vanessa watches her leave with a heavy heart. Now Vanessa has to beg Brooke to come back, and there’s a million things she’d rather do. But A’keria is right, and she can’t let everyone down. She can’t let herself down, when she worked so hard for this.

She glances at her mother’s work bag on the kitchen floor, dropped in exhaustion after an overnight shift, and Vanessa knows what she has to do.

—

Vanessa’s arm is made of steel as she forces it up to Brooke’s door. Her stomach drops and her mouth falls open in surprise when Brooke appears, but who did Vanessa expect, Rihanna?

Brooke’s eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with gray shadows, and Vanessa can tell she’s been crying. It broke her heart when Brooke cried, especially because Brooke was always embarrassed over it, hiding her face away. Vanessa used to ease her hands off her face, tell her it was nothing to be ashamed of, though she knows Brooke still hates for anyone to see her cry, and maybe that’s why Brooke’s cheeks flush as Vanessa takes her in. It doesn’t explain why Vanessa’s face burns just as hot, though.

“Well, to what do I owe this honor?” Brooke’s voice bites with a razor-sharpness Vanessa knows she deserves.

“I need to talk to you. I need to” –she grits her teeth– “apologize to you.”

“Maybe I should call the newspapers,” Brooke says. She’s silent, and Vanessa holds her breath. Brooke could slam the door in her face and the whole plan would collapse, which isn’t ideal for either of them, but Vanessa can hardly say she didn’t cause the destruction.

Finally, Brooke gestures for her to come in, and Vanessa notices the Frozen Band-Aids awkwardly applied to the raw, red scrapes covering Brooke’s palms.

“Your hands,” Vanessa says, hit with another twinge of guilt. Brooke really was just trying to help her last night, and Vanessa was so consumed with anger that she barely noticed Brooke got hurt.

“It’s nothing,” Brooke says.

“Nuh-uh.” Vanessa shakes her head. “Carl Dragon got a little scratch on Game of Thrones and died from it.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s Khal Drogo—”

“I don’t care. You ain’t ruining my plans dying from a scrape. Let me look at it.”

“Fine.” Brooke huffs as Vanessa follows her to a bathroom the size of a prison cell, seating Brooke on the edge of the tub and browsing the medicine cabinet. Elsa, Anna, and Spider-Man stare at her from Band-Aid boxes, nestled beside bottles of grape Tylenol and gummy vitamins.

“Aww, does someone like big-girl Band-Aids?” Vanessa teases. “Maybe I’ll give you a sticker when I’m done.”

“Hey!” Brooke pouts, and Vanessa finds it more adorable than she should. “I like fun Band-Aids.”

“Sure you can handle the childproof cap on those vitamins?”

“Vanessa,” Brooke whines.

“Did they give you a lollipop when you bought them?”

“Gummy vitamins taste better,” Brooke defends herself, cheeks tinged light pink. “Are you gonna play nurse now, or what?”

Vanessa gets to work. She peels off the Band-Aids, and the wince Brooke tries to hide as they tug on her torn skin tears at Vanessa’s heart, the part that still hurts when Brooke is suffering. She looks into Brooke’s trusting eyes and gently rubs antibiotic cream on her palms.

She’s so close to Brooke’s hands, close enough to see the bluish veins snaking beneath her skin, and this isn’t helping with the feelings she’s trying to avoid. Those hands are soft and cool and smooth, had grabbed at her hips, plucked money from pockets, mixed coffee and buttered toast when Brooke brought her breakfast in bed. Those hands had wrapped around her own as they walked together, rubbed up and down her back in bed, clapped together when Brooke was excited, massaged Vanessa’s shoulders. Brooke keeps her hands perfectly still, just like when she’d let Vanessa paint her nails…

“You good?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa realizes she’s holding Brooke’s hands in her own, fingers intertwined, breath caught in her throat. But considering it took Brooke this long to mention it, it couldn’t have bothered her much.

“Yeah.” Vanessa jerks back and grabs gauze, carefully winding it around the scrapes and taping it down.

Brooke leads her to the kitchen, bright sun streaming through yellow curtains Brooke probably got to liven up this dingy shoebox apartment. The silence is too thick for such a small space, threatening to shatter the windows.

“Coffee?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa agrees, and finds herself across from Brooke at the rickety kitchen table, sipping coffee in a silence even more awkward than the one before it. It has all the nervous, breathless energy of their first date, with none of the anticipation or hope.

“So, um, how have you been doing?” Brooke asks.

What the hell does it matter to you? Vanessa thinks, but she bites her lip. She needs to not blow up at Brooke. And Brooke has no right to ask how Vanessa’s doing after prison, but she seems genuine, and maybe Vanessa should talk about it, A’keria’s words running through her mind.

Vanessa shrugs. “Okay. Sometimes being outside freaks me out. Too open, y’know? But it’s getting better. And I’m happy to be out, but it’s…weird, I guess. Weirder than I expected.”

Weird is the best word for it, for the fact that small spaces are more comfortable when she hated being cramped for six months, wanted to bust through the prison and see sunlight. Weird is feeling like she’s behind in her own life, like she didn’t actually exist for six months. Weird that for the past few weeks, Vanessa feels like she’s just been acting as Vanessa Mateo, sent on stage with no lines and no clue who she is.

Brooke nods, and somehow, just talking about it, with Brooke listening and not judging her, makes Vanessa feel more like herself than she has since she was released.

“It’s not like TV,” Vanessa continues. “It’s really not that bad. Not as bad as I thought it would be, anyway. It’s pretty quiet. No fights or riots or anything. Me and some other girls would play cards at lunch.”

Those card games had been one of the only things she had to look forward to, aside from quiet moments when she planned her con. Otherwise, it was a lot of counting down to the weekly visit she got, always from her mother and sometimes from A’keria and Silky. She didn’t mouth off, didn’t misbehave, because she knew they could take her visits away, and they were all she had. Shedding that routine and getting back into her own life has been harder than she thought, but it’s getting easier.

“I bet you won,” Brooke says shyly, and Vanessa smiles, her heart lighter.

“Hell yeah, I did! You think anyone’s beatin’ me at cards? I was destroying my mom at Go Fish when I was four!” Vanessa is calmest with a slim, smooth card in her hands, an ease that breeds confidence in her card scams.

Brooke laughs, and Vanessa can tell from her eyes that she’s guilty, maybe even sad about Vanessa being in prison, but there’s no pity in her gaze. She doesn’t mention her feelings, doesn’t try to apologize, and it’s enough. Enough to make Vanessa calm, to smile and feel freer than she did her first day out in the world. Enough to feel normal again.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Brooke says, and Vanessa has to hold herself back from letting her hand reach out for Brooke’s.

She needs to stop this. Those feelings were shattered when the cops knocked on A’keria’s door. Every second in prison was spent on the plan, and she’s avoided thinking about the soft green of Brooke’s eyes, how they sparkled when she laughed. She’s avoided thinking of Brooke bouncing through the door with bright flowers to surprise Vanessa, or Brooke packing their lunches each night, tucking sticky-note hearts in Vanessa’s. Now, those memories are flooding back at her, and Vanessa doesn’t know how much longer she can stem the tide.

Vanessa clears her throat. “Brooke, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you and called you a coward. I’m sorry I got mad when you were helping me, and kicked you off the team.” She bites her lip and exhales. “I’m really, really sorry. But if you can forgive me, I’d love to have you back.”

“You’d really want me back?” Brooke asks, and the surprise in her voice, the shock that someone wants her, breaks Vanessa’s heart a tiny bit. She knows Brooke’s parents were hard on her growing up, heaping too many expectations on her young shoulders, that they kicked her out when she was 18 and told them she liked girls, that she’s always been on her own. Vanessa tried to change that, had made it her mission to make Brooke feel loved, make her feel wanted. Maybe she didn’t do as good a job as she thought, and an indescribable sadness fills her chest.

“I really would. I need you,” Vanessa says, and despite everything, she’s telling the truth. Not just because she needs Brooke’s skills, but because working with her, comparing notes and planning each detail, is the most fun Vanessa’s had in a long time, and she thinks the same is true for Brooke.

“I’m in,” Brook says without hesitation.

“Okay.” Vanessa peers into her empty mug and rises. “See you later. Thanks for the coffee.” She needs to get out of here because she can’t stop staring at Brooke’s lips and she might do something really stupid like kiss her–

“O-Okay. I’ll see you,” Brooke says, looking shaken at her sudden departure, like she wants Vanessa to stay.

And the worst part is that Vanessa wants to stay too.

—

“I really think you should go to the ER,” Vanessa says in worry, tucking sweat-damp hair behind Brooke’s ears.

Brooke coughs so harshly Vanessa’s own chest hurts. “I can’t, Ness. The visit, the tests, the prescriptions…do you know how much that’ll cost?”

She knows Brooke is right, but Vanessa can’t bear to see her suffering like this, struggling for each breath, shivering and then sweating, her body so achy every movement makes her wince. It’s not right. Not right that Brooke is sick with God knows what and refusing the hospital because they have enough bills. Brooke also hates admitting she’s sick, and the two create a horrible combination that has Brooke burrowed into a nest of blankets, trying to wait the illness out.

“Brooke, you’ve been sick all week. I know it’s just the flu, but your fever’s almost 103.” Vanessa sighs. “If it gets higher, you’re at least going to urgent care.”

“Fine.” Brooke sighs into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. She’s asleep in seconds, getting much-needed rest after being up all night coughing.

Trusting that she’ll sleep for a few hours, Vanessa heads out despite her reluctance to leave Brooke. She reaches the park she and Silky once frequented, and gets to work.

Usually, she enjoys taking her time, watching each movement succeed. But she’s fueled by worry and desperation, and she has to force herself not to rush, not to get caught. In two hours she has almost five hundred from card games and pickpocketing, and it’ll have to be enough.

She runs home and helps a limp, glassy-eyed Brooke into an Uber. Brooke can barely hold herself up, let alone protest going to urgent care, and Vanessa trembles with fear. Brooke nuzzles against her inside the car and breathes sleepy mumbles into her shoulder. Vanessa just holds her hand and wills the car to move faster, buzzing with worry at how Brooke’s skin is hotter than a stove, how there’s a rattling sound in her chest after each breath.

It’s dark when they finally get home after hours of waiting and tests and a too-expensive pharmacy trip. Vanessa helps Brooke change into her favorite kitten pajamas–Brooke insisting she’s ‘not a baby, Ness!’ but also getting stuck in her shirt after a coughing fit–before tucking her under blankets on the couch and propping up her pillows so she can breathe easier. She stands at Brooke’s side and gently cups her cheek.

“You’re gonna stay on this couch and rest tomorrow.” Vanessa can’t be stern, not when Brooke is leaning her cheek into the touch and sighing contentedly, Vanessa’s heart warming at the sound. “We’ll watch anything you want and I’ll make you soup.”

“You sure? We don’t need another trip to urgent care,” Brooke teases.

Vanessa smiles, glad Brooke is at least strong enough to tease her. “Hey, I caught the chicken on fire one time. You’re the one who almost chopped her thumb off, Miss Thing.”

“Almost.” Brooke grins sleepily at her. God, Brooke’s adorable when she’s sleepy, face softer and younger, eyes droopy and warm, dripping with affection for Vanessa.

“Promise you’ll never scare me like that again?” Vanessa asks softly, fear still lodged in her heart over how pale, almost ghostly, Brooke was under the harsh fluorescent lights in urgent care, how she was so frail she needed to lean on Vanessa to walk.

“Promise.” Brooke extends a trembling pinky and Vanessa twirls her own around it. “I love you,” Brooke whispers.

“I love you too.” She gives Brooke the medicine the doctor prescribed and strokes her hair until she drifts off.

Brooke’s face is peaceful as she sleeps, and relief finally sweeps over Vanessa after hours of worry. The doctor said Brooke’s severe flu could have become pneumonia if left untreated, and Vanessa can’t think of how bad this could have been, how much sicker Brooke could have gotten.

There has to be something she can do so they don’t have to live like this. Their combined salary isn’t enough to be comfortable, even with the extra hours they work, and certainly not with their bills. What if she came up with a con, bigger than their simple scams, so big they’d never have to worry about bills or hospital visits or anything again?

Vanessa settles into bed and begins to think.

—

“I got the outfits!” Nina wheels in a garment cart, handing them each a bag with the outfit they’ll wear to the ball after the con is complete.

“Nice work, Nina,” Vanessa says, laying her bag in her corner, which is starting to resemble the murder board Brooke called it, lists and diagrams and photos pinned to every surface.

“Last run-through!” Vanessa calls, clapping and herding everyone to the table. “Yvie and Scarlet, stop making out. Silky, throw your chip bag away.”

“I swear you have eyes in the back of your head,” Scarlet grumbles as she sits.

Silky nods in agreement, making a show of throwing her trash away. Brooke is the last to arrive after tearing herself away from her notes, and she sits in the only empty chair (Vanessa wagers Nina made everyone leave it open), next to Vanessa.

Vanessa clears her throat. “So–”

Scarlet raises her hand. “Um, did I tell you that we’re screwed?”

“Screwed how?” Vanessa demands, heart speeding up. This can’t be happening, they’re so close–

“The necklace needs this magnet to be taken off. The necklace company used it today. Plastique hasn’t actually worn it yet, so I didn’t know. I took a video, which might’ve looked suspicious–”

Vanessa raises a hand to cut her off, mind racing for a solution.

“Show me the video,” Yvie says. Scarlet hands over her phone, and Yvie nods. “I can fix this.”

“You can?” Vanessa asks, not daring to hope yet.

“Yep. I’ll have it ready tomorrow. I just need magnets, rods, and duct tape. Maybe some Oreos,” she adds as an afterthought.

“Why Oreos?” A’keria asks in confusion.

Yvie shrugs. “I work better with Oreos.”

“Ooh, you ever tried the peanut butter ones?” A’keria asks.

Silky shakes her head furiously. “Nah, the red velvet ones are where it’s at. When I tell you, life-changing–”

“Hey!” Vanessa whacks her hand on the table. “I need that thing Judge Judy uses.”

“A gavel,” Brooke interjects.

“Okay. One last time. Plastique enters the bathroom. Silky takes the necklace off her and puts it on a kitchen tray, where it goes to A’keria. A’keria breaks the necklace apart, then Nina plants the replica, finds it, and gives it to Plastique. And we’re all 16 million dollars richer.”

There’s lots of hugs and laughs and chatter over Chinese food, and Vanessa is practically vibrating with anticipation, so excited to prove herself, that she doesn’t mind having Brooke next to her. Nor does she notice that she gives the sesame chicken and pork egg roll in the bag to Brooke without even checking the list of who ordered what, because the order Vanessa used to tease Brooke for never changing is still lodged in her brain.

Maybe it’s the good mood she’s in, the good mood they’re all in, the thought that in 24 hours she’ll be free from her bills, but when Brooke asks if she wants to have coffee, Vanessa says yes.

—

“Brooke, I was thinking.”

“About…” Brooke prompts.

Vanessa twirls around the spaghetti she made–without burning anything, thank you very much–and takes a breath. “What if we did a big scam. Bigger than hustling or pickpocketing.”

Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa sees the wheels spinning in her head, fear building as she tries to calculate the risk.

Vanessa cuts Brooke off before she can fully spiral. “Nothing too extreme. But enough where we can start paying more, where we don’t have to worry about going to the hospital.” She meets Brooke’s eyes meaningfully, because Brooke’s illness last month left Vanessa more shaken than she wants to admit. Sitting at Brooke’s side in the urgent care exam room reminded her of the days by her father’s hospital bed, but Vanessa won’t think about that because she knows how it ended.

“I don’t know, Ness,” Brooke says. “We’d have to really plan this. It would be a lot riskier than our usual stuff.”

Brooke is right about that. It’s unlikely they’d get caught pickpocketing, even more unlikely that the mark would get an identifying look at them in a city of millions where people usually have their heads down.

“We wouldn’t do anything without planning first,” Vanessa reassures her. “And you’re amazing at planning. The two of us are unstoppable, baby.” She gives Brooke a nervous smile and finds it returned.

“You’re right. I think we could, but we’d need time to plan–”

“Of course. And only if you’re okay with this, Brooke. I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to.”

“Thank you.”

When they fall into bed that night, Vanessa allows herself to dream of a secure future.

—

“No talking about prison or the con, and no apologies,” Vanessa says, not unkindly, as they sit in Brooke’s kitchen. She’s been here twice this week, and the weird fish smell Brooke masks with apple-scented candles doesn’t bother her anymore.

“Um, what do you want to talk about?” Brooke asks nervously.

“I don’t know. Whatever. You still at the studio?” She’s not sure why she’s asking about Brooke, not sure why she even came here, but she also doesn’t want to leave, to go back to her empty apartment and wait until tomorrow.

“Yeah. They’ve been hinting at a higher position again, but I don’t think it’s happening.” Vanessa nods. They promised Brooke that raise back when they were dating. She’s not surprised, but it isn’t fair, especially if Brooke still works as hard as she used to.

“You still do those Saturday workshops?” Brooke did them all day on the first Saturday of each month. She always came home with a sadness hanging over her like a storm cloud, though Brooke said it was just exhaustion. Either way, Vanessa would let Brooke hold her extra tight on those nights, Brooke’s arms desperate for something to fill them.

“Yeah.” She doesn’t meet Vanessa’s eyes when she says it.

“You don’t con anymore?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke shakes her head.

“I could tell. You haven’t been in your usual fancy clothes.” Vanessa could just stare at Brooke for hours back then, in the silky black dress charged to someone else’s credit card, in the high-waisted red skirt that hugged every curve, even curled up on the couch in her worn gray sweatshirt and kitten pajamas. Brooke was always beautiful, and Vanessa would have to be blind not to admit it now, even as mad as she is.

“Fancy, huh?” Brooke raises her eyebrow and Vanessa’s heart skips a beat.

“You know what I mean. You used to wear those real glam clothes. Like a model. Not that you don’t look good now, I mean–shit. I’ll stop talking.” Vanessa’s face is way too hot for March. And what the hell does she think she’s doing, telling Brooke she looks good? Smiling back at Brooke’s smile?

“You look good too. Always.” Brooke takes a breath and pushes her mug aside. “Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

Brooke sighs and tears a hand through her hair. “I know you said no apologies, but I need to do this. You deserve the truth. I never meant to give you up. I swear I didn’t.”

“You—“

Brooke shakes her head to silence her, face so deadly serious Vanessa goes quiet.

Brooke takes another breath. “Vanessa, I gave you up because it was the only way to protect my daughter.”

“You…” Vanessa trails off, unable to process the words. Somewhere beneath the shock, her mind rationalizes that the cartoon Band-Aids and children’s medicine suddenly make sense. “You…a daughter?”

Brooke nods.

“How long? How…the whole time we were together, you lied to me?” She darts from confused to angry to hurt and back again. Brooke has lied to her for who knows how long, has a daughter and maybe a whole secret family somewhere.

How did Vanessa not know Brooke was hiding something like that? All the nights spent curled under the sheets together, the dinners they shared, the hours strolling down the street and laughing, and she never knew Brooke was hiding this inside her. How had Brooke not trusted her enough to tell her, when they trusted each other with everything?

Brooke nods fearfully. “She’s two. I’m only allowed to see her once a month.”

Once a month…

“You didn’t do workshops on Saturdays, did you?” Vanessa asks, clarity hitting her again.

“No. I was going to tell you, I really was, but I didn’t because…” Brooke buries her face in her hands, body shaking with the sobs she never wants anyone to see. She looks so small, so fragile, just seconds from shattering, and Vanessa can’t take this anymore. No matter how mad Vanessa is, how long she was lied to, Brooke is clearly not all right, and Vanessa can’t stand by and let Brooke suffer when she knows how to help her.

All the confusion and hurt inside her melt away, and she leads Brooke to the couch, sinking down at her side, drowning in hesitation. Finally, she strokes Brooke’s wrist, watching her pale skin break out in goosebumps, gently lowering Brooke’s arms to reveal her splotchy, tear-stained face.

Vanessa wipes the tears with her thumb, the cheek beneath her new and familiar, exciting and comforting. “It’s okay, Brooke,” she breathes. “But I think you have some explaining to do.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #lesbian au #oceans 8 au #mateos 8 #athena2 #s11 #tw mentioned homophobia #concrit welcome #submission

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