VLDWhumpmas Day 9: Broken limbs, cuts, bruises Okay so majority wanted either Keith or Lance. Well, as I like to say, why not both?? College AU: Pre-Klance (Tw: Car Accident) Keith can’t see much, not with the snow whipping against his windshield in blinding sheets. He takes to the road slowly, cautiously, squinting as he hunches over the wheel as if attempting to cut through the snow with a sharp gaze. His knuckles are white from a deathly tight grip around the wheel, and he just barely presses down on the gas, going a safe 30 mph. Despite poor visibility, he can make out a few signs pointing toward his college.

A breath of relief slips from tightly pressed lips, and then he feels a large jolt, hears a loud crunch, and jerks to the side– everything going black almost instantly. ***** Lance is scrambling out of his car the second he makes impact. His wrist is twisted in a frightening way after having gotten caught in the wheel from frantic turning to avoid collision. His heart is practically leaping out of his throat, he’s shaking hard, both from shock and the icy wind, but all he cares about is getting to the other driver. He holds his uninjured hand up to shield his eyes from the bitter wind and snow as he stumbles toward the other car. He’s legs tremble and buckle with each step, but he makes it, breath catching in his throat as he spots Keith from the floor above him leaning lifeless against the driver side’s window, with cracked, spiderwebbed glass that’s littered with pricks of blood circling Keith’s head.

“Shit,” Lance mutters before stumbling toward the passenger side. Thankfully, his car hit more on the back then the front, so he’s able to pry the passenger door open with some force. “Keith!” At his name, Keith’s eyes snap open, and for a moment, he can’t see much of anything for his surroundings look as if he’s floating under murky water. But, he can still hear his name– it sounds faint, but it’s growing louder with every blink. “Keith, buddy, you gotta wake up!” Lance is climbing across the passenger seat to get to Keith, not even able to feel the pain of his wrist thanks to heightened adrenaline.

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The shouting is only further aggravating the pounding in Keith’s temples. He wants it to stop, but the person sounds panicked, close. Slowly, he looks over to see Lance from school staring at him– deep blue irises impossibly large. “Lance?” “Thank God,” Lance mutters before climbing out of the car.

“Hang on!” He shouts, racing around the car to get back to the driver’s side. He slips twice, using his injured hand to steady himself both times, but he can’t feel much except overwhelming relief that Keith isn’t dead.

When he gets to the door, he opens it slowly, cautiously, dropping to a crouch the second he gets it open all the way. A wince pulls at his face when he catches sight of the deep purple bruise splayed across Keith’s temple and down toward his eye. “Keith,” Lance says again, voice taking on a pleading tone once more. Label Matrix V7 02 02 Lz021. Keith is slow to respond.

He can hear Lance, but he can’t get his muscles to move fast. He turns toward the brunet, squinting down when he feels a slight pressure on his thigh. He sees a tan hand that’s triple in size and colored light purple and yellow. A frown tugs at the corners of his lips as he slowly pulls his gaze to meet Lance’s. “ your hand.” Ignoring this, Lance reaches up with his good hand, gentle fingers ghosting the bruise along Keith’s head. “I think you’re concussed.” “M'not.” The sloppy slur is enough of an answer for Lance. He’s just reaching for Keith’s phone when he hears it– a faint echo of a siren that flutters along the sharp wind.

The seconds to follow bring flashing lights, and Lance isn’t sure who called– probably someone from the store next door– but his shoulders slump with relief, and his good hand clutches tightly to Keith’s coat as the ambulance pulls into sight. ***** Sound comes back first for Keith, with a persistent beeping sound interrupting his sleep. His memory is foggy; he remembers being slowly moved from his car, but after that, all he can recall is cold darkness. He’s slow to open his eyes, wincing at the light with each drop and rise of heavy lids. “Keith?” The voice is so soft, so cautious. Keith lets his gaze drift slowly to the left to see Lance in a chair beside his bed. His gaze drops to the bandaged hand.

“Your hand-” “My wrist is broken, but it’s okay.” Lance finishes, tugging weakly at the blanket draped around his shoulders with his free hand. He fiddles with the corner of the blanket as his gaze plummets to the floor. “Listen, Keith. I’m so sorry. I hit a patch of black ice and just lost control, and now you’re here with a concussion, and it’s my fault. I just– I’m sorry.” Concussion.

That, Keith thinks, would explain why his head is throbbing. That would also explain why he can’t remember much of anything. A deep sigh deflates his chest as he weakly reaches one hand to Lance’s knee. “It’s not your fault.” His words come out slow, and his voice holds a deep croak, but otherwise, his sentence is clear. “It is-” “It’s. Not.” Lance’s shoulders slump, and he lets his hand fall to his lap. “I should have been more careful.” “It could have happened to anyone,” Keith argues.

He doesn’t know Lance too well, but the brunet’s guilt is filling the room as a suffocating pressure. “Lance, really, it’s not your fault.” Lance wordlessly gets to his feet in reply. He cradles his injured wrist to his chest as he starts toward the door. “I’m going to tell a nurse that you’re awake.” He pulls the door open, only to freeze when he hears the weak call of his name.

Slowly, he moves his gaze to look at Keith, who is propped up on one elbow. “You’ll come back, yeah?” For the first time since Keith woke up, he can see a glimmer of light flash across Lance’s deep blue eyes, and the brunet nods, almost eagerly, before slipping out of the room. We’ve somewhat come to the consensus that Viktor is probably the bad driver in the relationship, and Yuuri is the careful one. I would posit that Yuuri isn’t necessarily the most careful driver, but compared to Viktor he looks like the Poster Child for Defensive Driving. HOWEVER, can I also suggest that where Viktor is the one who yells things like you concussed fucking antelope out of his window at drivers who cut him off, Yuuri is much more deadpan–and much more acerbic. “Viktor,” says Yuuri, completely calm but clearly out-of-his-mind annoyed with the woman going twenty-five kilometers under the speed limit in front of them, “Can you roll down your window and ask the woman in front of us if she remembers the extinction of the dinosaurs, or if she was still in hybernation at that point?” and Viktor laughs so hard that he almost chokes.

“No, please, tell me more about your micropenis,” says Yuuri, as a driver in a very large four-door pickup with a license plate reading something like “SCKMYTRK” roars past him going seventy in a forty. Viktor’s coffee dribbles down his chin as he tries not to inhale it. “How does it feel to know you’ve never sexually satisfied another person?” Yuuri mutters under his breath, as an SUV tailgates him on the expressway. Viktor’s mouth drops open in awe. “I love you,” Viktor whispers, reverently. Yuuri flashes him a smile and then, as the SUV passes him, drops into one of those patented Katsuki-Death-Glares. It’s beautiful in the same way that erupting volcanoes are.

Viktor has never loved him more. Warnings: being really really cold pairings: steve harrington x reader summary: per your mother’s wishes, Jonathan was supposed to drive you home from school.

Without your mother’s knowledge, he’s been forgetting to do so pretty often lately. Today, instead of walking home, you decided freezing to death is easier. Steve Harrington decides otherwise. Word count: 1132 a/n: I originally ended to make this a multiple part thing but then I got a better series idea and just yasss. Also this is the first stranger things fit I’ve ever done so please please please go easy on me You stood with your arms wrapped around yourself in a desperate attempt for warmth, watching as your breath clouded in the cold. Your ride was late. Actually, correction; your ride had forgotten they even were your ride.

Frankly, you couldn’t blame him for it. You and Jonathan weren’t exactly friends to begin with. It wasn’t that you hated each other it was just acquaintances suited the two of you best.

If it wasn’t for your mother always trying to push you two together, you questioned the fact that you two would even talk to each other at all. Not to mention, you wouldn’t have been in this mess right now, either. Regardless of how many times you objected this to your mother and insisted that he’d rather be with someone like Nancy, her and Ms. Byers both insisted that Jonathan driving you to school in the winter was simply the best decision, even though you had your own car. Byers called it being “safe,” while you mother hoped it would “spark something.” Yet here you were, resorting to sitting on the sidewalk of the Hawkins High School parking lot defeatedly.

To say that you were only a little upset over your current situation was an understatement. Maybe it was the cold, or the fact that this was the third time this has happened this week, but you were on the verge of tears. Instead of doing what you did the last two times and walking home, you figured if you sat here longer enough either one of two things would happen.

A.) You’d freeze to death, or B.) Someone would realize you were gone and come get you. But before another numbing thought could slip into your mind, a car pulled up near where you were sat as the driver slowly rolled the window down. Request: Can you do one where the reader is the number one crime boss/villain and Jerome admires her so much that he follows them around until he gets caught. Maybe they become partners, he gets jealous and stuff, and it has a pretty happy ending. Smut warning ———– (Y/n) POV: “Move it into the van boys! Don’t leave a dime!” I laugh as my henchmen load the bags of money.

“Ohh this is gonna make me the richest woman on the planet!” I say joyfully spinning around. We got company! We got to hurry up!” I turn my attention to the banks to see them being scoped up and down by the GCPD. “I’ve got this boys.

Just get the bags in there and don’t leave me like last time. If that’s done then you’ll all be dead! Understand?” “Yes ma'am!” They yell in attention.

I smile and stroll into the bank making my presence know to the cops. “Hello hello hello! How ya doing boys? How’s the drinking problem?

The kids doing good? Mollys rash ever clear up? That thing was nasty! Ah and Jimbo! How’s the air in your big fat head?

Still clean I hope!” I giggle walking along the counter tops making fun. I walk to the indoor flag pole and look up to see the open sky light.

“Enough of your chit chat!” “Aww! But I was getting to the good part!

My self esteem has been kinda low lately. So I was wondering if I could show you guys a magic trick. You know the saying what goes up must always come down? Well how about what is down must go up? Well fine I guess I’ll test it!” I kick the latch of the pole ties and it flings me up into the air to where I’m flying out of the sky light.

“See ya around dumbass’!” I laugh as I exit through the roof. I hop onto the top of the van and hit it twice. “Go you idiots!” They drive at 90 mph to my place and as soon as we get there they start unloading the bags into the room matching the others. “Drink m’lady?” My butler asks as I enter the door. I smile at him and take the blue drink. “Thank you David. Any news for today?” I ask as I go to the living room.

“Crime rates are as high as ever thanks to you miss. Fan basis is at it’s highest. Little girls are wanting to buy anything related to you!” I smile and look out the big window to Gotham. Get Samantha for me will you?” “Yes miss.” In seconds my maid comes running in. “Yes miss?” “Care to run me a bath?

Crystals, and lavender soap as always.” I say sipping my drink. “Yes of course m’lady.” She bows to me and scurried off to the bathroom.

“Your bath is drawn m’lady.” I wave my hand away and make my way up to the large scale bathroom. The tub itself can fit 4. I strip myself of my clothes and sink into the relaxing water filled with soap and moisturizers. My personal line begins to ring bringing my attention away from my thoughts. “Hello?” I ask into the old fashioned telephone.

It’s so good to hear your voice!” “Mom. Hey how are you?” I ask with a smile on my face. “Oh just find. Yourself?” “Just fine.” My mother scoffs into the phone. “What?” “Just fine? Come on darling! Nothing?” “Mom.

We’ve discussed this. I’m far to busy with business.” “Oh don’t play that game!

A beautiful 17 year old woman like you is a the top of the world right now! You can have some fun!” “Business is fun.” “But doing business alone isn’t. Don’t you want to share that with someone?” I sigh into the phone and sink further into the water. Yes it’d be nice to have someone along, but I’ve tried the whole partner thing. It didn’t work! He was to slow! Couldn’t keep up.

I need someone exciting! Someone to make me laugh, but still keep success rates at high!” My mother laughs into the phone. “You sound so much like your father. Do me a favor darling. Put on a sexy dress, go to a club, and meet a man. Plenty will show if they hear the most feared woman in Gotham is coming. They’ll be trying to impress you left and right!

Promise me you’ll give it a shot?” I sigh and smile. “Yes mother.” “Good baby! Call me tomorrow love! Goodnight!” “Goodnight mom.” I hang up the phone and ring the bell for Samantha to enter. “Yes m’lady?” “Lay out a dress along with pumps, call a driver, and make sure the owner of Flaims knows I’m coming to have a fun night.” “Fantastic choice! I’ll be right on it!” I step out of the tub and wrap a towel around myself drying my body. I walk into my room to see my favorite dress set out.

“Oh Samantha how you read me well.” I drop the towel and get into my makeup and hair. A nice clean sexy eye with a simple puff to my lush (h/c) hair ties it all together. I walk down to the door and David opens it for me.

“Shall I stay awake to let you in?” “You know what? Have the rest of the night off! You too Samantha! I’ll see you both here tomorrow morning!” “Of course!

Shall I make breakfast for two?” David says with a smirk. “We shall see.” I say skipping out and into the car. I arrive at the club to see the best types of people there. The crazy ones.

I step out of the car and immediately get howled. Wanna test me out?

I can make a good girl into a bad bitch!” I roll my eyes and continue my way inside. I see many cute men scattered about but non that immediately catch my eye. I’m not going to work for them. They’re going to come to me. That’s what mom always taught me.

I order my favorite drink and scroll through my phone enjoying the night out. “Well well well. Never thought I’d see you in the flesh.” I removed my eyes from my screen to see a well known criminal. “Do my eyes deceive me or is it Jerome Valeska?” The red head leans up against the booth with a stretched out smile. “So you’ve heard of me?” “Well a new rising villain appears and we all want to know more. Have to keep tabs on you.

Been out of the limelight for a while now.” “Well ya know. Been dead for about a year.

No big deal.” I laugh and scoot for him to join me. He can make me laugh We talk for hours, laugh for hours, he had me smiling for hours. “I’ve got to say. I’m a big fan. My favorite crime scene is when you hung your victim from the center of the hotel. Burnt fingerprints and face! DNA unrecognizable!

Never figured out who the victim was.” I place my hand over my head. That’s so sweet! No one’s ever kept up with a case like that before!

Well except for those cops. Care to know who it was?” He leans in dazzled. “A bartender who got my drink wrong.” I shrug. It’s all just fun and games anyway! If they don’t play by the rules they shouldn’t have been in the game to begin with!” “Exactly!” I laugh and look at the time.

“Past your bedtime princess?” I smirk at him and lean into him feeling the full effects of the alcohol take over. Usually it’s time for someone to help me wake up. If you understand what I mean.” I smirk and toy with his fingers. “Ohh any choices yet? Will I have to fight my way through them to get my shot?” I move my fingers to his shirt and pop one of the buttons open. “I think you have a pretty good shot already.” I smirk and stand up walking and swishing my hips for his pleasure. “Then what are we waiting for hm?” He growls in my ear biting it lightly.

Jerome opens my door for me and lets me in. My driver says no words but does raise the black window for some privacy.

I bring my lips to his in a rush for lust and passion. “Oh you’re bad.” He breathes and run his hand down my body to between my legs. “Make me worse.” I moan into his lips. Jerome pushes my panties to the side and pushes one finger inside my pussy swerling my insides to make my body rock.

“Someone’s wet babydoll. Care to tell me who that’s for?” Jerome asks adding another finger and pushing them in and out. “You’ve got to earn me screaming your name. Do that and you can do whatever you want.” I moan as he pumps his fingers faster. I toss my head back moaning out. Jerome then attaches his lips to my neck sucking a visible mark. “Marking what’s mine.” I laugh and straddle him.

“You’ve got to take it first.” I say out of breath. The car stops and the driver lowers the black window. “We have arrived m’lady.” Jerome smiles and opens the door for me grabbing my ass as I get out. “Hm about time.” He says gripping my body in lust.

We quickly open the door and waste no time rushing to the bedroom. Jerome closes the door with me against it and strips me of my dress. “Oh a true beauty below the soft cloth you are!” He moans. I strip him of his shirt and pants and he attacks my lips the moment we’re both rid of clothing. He lifts me against the door and rubs the tip of his cock up and down my slit coating himself with my juices. He pushes in making my head hit the door in pleasure. “You’re so tight doll.” Jerome thrusts up into me causing me so much pleasure.

He moved us to the bed and flips me over to my stomach. He pushes himself back into my tight cunt and pounds me harder. “What’s my name doll? Who’s filling your tight pussy?” Jerome grips my hair in a ponytail and pulls it back making my mouth open and loud moans to come out. Oh my god!” I scream and cum without warning.

“That’s it baby!” He says and fills me up. He pulls out of me and rubs his hands up my back to my shoulders.

Jerome sets me on the bed and covers me up along with himself beside me. He brings me to his chest and kisses my head. “I have a proposal.” I say looking at him. “Hm I know I’m great but we just met doll face.” “Oh hush you big dumby!

What I mean is be my partner in crime!” “King and Queen of Gotham.” He smirks at the thought rolling through his mind. “Seal the deal with a kiss.” I say with bright eyes. “Gladly baby.” He kisses me and kisses down my neck to make another mark.

•To Build A Home• Chapter 1 ********** He’s pissed off. He’s bleeding from the huge gash on his forehead, his bike is in pieces of scrap metal on the side of River road and he’s fairly certain he’s missed his date with Tiffany Taylor? No, it was definitely Tiffany. So yeah, he’s pissed.

Jughead Jones tucks his scratched up hands deep into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it against the wind, he inhales the familiar taste of tobacco and burnt paper and his shoulders finally slump in exhaustion. This day sucks. It officially sucks, it’s sucked from the minute he set foot on the construction site to the time he walked into his second home, The Snake Sack Bar, he was tired, he was cranky and fuck if he wasn’t starving. The blare of a truck horn shakes him out of his pity party, his redheaded best friend sticks his head out of the drivers seat window and grins “Archie Andrews to the rescue!

I’m here to save the damsel in distress.” He pulls to a stop beside Jughead as the dark haired man looks less than amused. Archie’s eyes turn serious as he looks his friend over “Seriously man, are you okay?” Jughead shakes off his concern, he never quite got used to anyone caring about his wellbeing “I’m fine, it’s my bike you should be worrying about. Efi Rastek H650 Manual on this page. Look at her, she’s in pieces.” His hands are flailing frantically and Archie snorts “Pieces doesn’t cover it. I don’t think even your uncle Harley can fix this buddy.” The all American boy drops a hand to Jugheads shoulder and begins to help him pick up all the pieces, throwing them into the back of his pickup. “Mind telling me how this happened.” Archie treads carefully. A low growl escapes Jugheads mouth, “Jason Blossom and his goonies ran me off the road, probably has something to do with Jason taking over his dads construction company, probably doesn’t like that I’m working for Andrews Construction, or maybe they have something against the Serpents.” Jughead shifts in his jacket, the emblem displayed proudly on the back. Archie snorts bitterly, a dangerous look flashing in his eyes “Were 25 now, I figured the days of high school competition were behind us, he’ll never get over the fact that I stole quarterback away from him.” Jughead shuddered at the mention of high school, that had not been a good time in his life and he very rarely revisits that place in his brain.

He’s so much different now, ladies love him, he takes a new girl home every night. Gone is the gangly adolescent boy who hid behind bleachers, replaced by a filled out, muscular bad boy that drives all the girls who ignored him in high school mad. Damnit he could be showing that cheerleader Tiffany Taylor, shit what was her name? Whatever, he could be showing her the time of her life.

“I know a mechanic a town over, works real good with bikes. The shops open, I can take you there now.” This is why Archie Andrews is his best friend, no matter what, they are always there for each other, it’s the way it’s been since they were four years old. Jugheads pressing some fancy satin scarf against the gash on his forehead as Archie mumbles something about Infection. They pull up to Pops Mechanic Shop and Jughead hops from the truck, he’s a bit woozier than he expected, his knees wobbly. Archie shoots him yet again, another concerned glance. “I’m good dude, now where’s this mechanic you mentioned, I wanna talk to him about.” He’s cut off abruptly by a distinctly feminine voice “Archie Andrews, you better not have blown out your breaks again! I just fixed this truck last week.” Jughead turns quickly to the voice behind him and nearly passes out.

(It’s most definitely because of lack of blood, not the sexy creature before him.) Standing In front of him is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, long tan legs are wrapped up in short denim overalls, a dirty, red rag is hanging from one of her pockets, her feet are tucked into heavy work boots. Jughead lets his eyes trail over her body all the way up to her toned,bronze arms, she’s covered in motor oil and dirt but it only makes that much sexier. Her silky blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun, strands sticking to her sweaty forehead, her eyes are the color of freshly cut grass and her lips are so perfect it should be illegal. “Nope not me this time Betty, check the back of the truck.” As soon as she moves to the back her eyes widen “Woah, holy poor baby, what happened here?” For the first time since the conversation started Betty’s eyes are on his, ocean blue meeting meadow green, they linger on his before flickering to the steadily bleeding cut on his forehead “It’s my bike. Well it was my bike. Got into an accident.” He answers dumbly, she can obviously see that he was in accident. “That needs stitches.” She speaks so suddenly it takes Jughead by surprise “What?” “The cut on your head, it needs stitches, you ripped it clean open.

I can fix your bike, gonna take a while but I can get her running.” Jugheads mind races to catch up with her “You can?” “Sure, shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve got some paperwork for you to fill out in the office, Arch I made cookies, there might still be some in the garage if the guys haven’t snatched them all up.” A flash of red races to the garage, leaving Jughead to follow Betty. The office is run down but usable, “Do you have insurance?” Betty asks, her head buried in a filing cabinet, Jughead snorts causing her to look up a hesitant smile on her face. ** REQUESTED ** ⚤ - CONTAINS SMUT Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you thought it might burst through your shirt as you stood at the door of the DT warehouse waiting for Ethan to come out. You hadn’t talked to him since the night prior when he had called you practically shouting in your ear, demanding an explanation. You should’ve closed your MacBook before you left the warehouse. You had left it open and sure enough your text messages, which were linked to your computer and your phone, popped up on the screen.

Ethan hadn’t wanted to pry into your life, he had never been the kind of boyfriend to snoop, but he couldn’t resist. He knew the name all too well. His eyes scanned over the messages then he shut your computer with gritted teeth.

Before he could think of anything else, he was dialling your number almost immediately. Summary: “DESPERATE NEED: BASSIST. NO SHIT TASTE IN MUSIC. PLUS: BE HOT.” That was all the flyer had said along with a location. Eddie would usually never go to some random club to try out for a band full of people he didn’t know, but his therapist DID tell him to take some more risks.

Read Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3 Pairings: Reddie, slight Mike/Stan/Bill, slight Benverly Warnings: internalized homophobia is amazing and wonderful and I don’t know what I would do without them (post terrible unedited work that’s what) Extra: Thank you so much for waiting guys, I’m sorry that this has taken me so long, but I’ve finally worked through my writers block a bit and hopefully it’ll stay away. Eddie had woken up hours ago but he couldn’t find it in himself to move; not with Richie’s face inches apart from his, an arm lazily draped over his body. He watched Richie’s chest rise and fall slowly with each breath before his gaze drifted to Richie’s cheeks. Eddie felt like he was close enough to count every freckle that dusted his skin.

Watching Richie made his chest tighten and he wasn’t sure why. Eddie finally decided that staring at the sleeping man for any longer would be far too creepy, so he carefully wiggled out from under Richie’s arm and stood, hissing softly as his bare feet came in contact with the freezing hardwood floor. Once he made it downstairs and to the kitchen he was greeted by Beverly and Ben who were already making breakfast.