#‘‘how do you handle changes to routine?’’ and I’m like I know where this shit is going

[eatyourdamnpears]

might’ve accidentally girlbossed my way into an autism assessment

[shhh-secret-time]

rahhhh i’m such a fan of your writing omg and I never request stuff so i’m very nervous to send this but can I Pretty Please ask for something w kyle who’s usually more of a sub being asked to like Go Crazy Dom and at first he’s nervous but then like completely gets into it and wrecks reader’s shit please…. thank u for yr service🙏🏼

Oh lovelies you never need to be nervous when sending requests, I know it can be intimidating but believe me I say this truly makes my day!

That being said, I hope you don't mind that I've combo the request with someone else's! I'm getting a lot of Kyle and I wanna make sure everyone gets a little of what they want! And there is filth ahead so get your bibles ready. Sinners the lot of you.

Me too

Warning: NSFW, Slight choking, Dom!Kyle, Sub!Reader, Breeding Kink, Oral, Strong Language

Pairing: Kyle x Fem!Reader

Notes: Shout out to the roommate who talked me through making a Danish so I didn't have to google it lmao.

The smell of brown sugar and cinnamon filled the air swirling around in your small kitchen. The morning light peeks through the curtains of the circular window in front of the sink, you smile at the view of lilac and orange seemed to blend. You've read things online where people compared the morning sky to painting where the paint seemed to just melt together, and it seemed like one of those days. If you were better with a camera, you'd take a picture just to share it. That and the fact that you had a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a very sleepy curly red-haired man nuzzling into your shoulder.

Your husband Kyle was never a morning person, for all his perfections and his strict schedule keeping, when the morning sun would greet him, he'd return the greeting with a groan and a feeble attempt to hide. You were trying to revive the poor man by making a pot of coffee, the warm brown liquid was the only thing that brought him back to the land of the living. The man ran off of coffee, you were sure the Tweeks owed half their business to him. With the coffee pot humming its little tune and the smell of ingredients laid out across the counter this morning just seemed perfect. Now if only your husband didn't have to leave and go to work if he could just stay with you and keep you warm.

The crisp morning air seeped into the house and sure you could change out of the basketball shorts you stole from him, and the large T-shirt you stole from him, oh the fluffy socks you stole from him but then you wouldn't smell like him. Because he would be leaving after he got through with his morning routine, and you'd be alone in this cold little house.

"What's with the face baby?" His voice broke you out of your little pout, the sleepy gravel laced in each word sent a shiver down your spine.

"What face? I'm making apple and brown sugar Danishes..." You say with a little smile on your face knowing full well he was going to keep bugging you about this.

"Hm... that’s why you had your lip poked out. And your brows were doing that thing." How did he know? He still had his face buried in you, now pushed into the crook of your neck.

You only hum in response as you focus on the apple in your hands, the knife gliding across the skin of the ruby red fruit. He knew better than to mess with you while you were handling dangerous kitchen tools, so he waited until you finished. Once you finished slicing the apples you gently placed them into the lemon water mixture, it would keep the apples fresh while you worked on the rest of the pastry. Next your hands find the mixing tool and begin to pull together nutmeg, brown sugar, butter, salt, and finally the cinnamon. Because you didn't have a lot of time in the mornings, knowing your husband had little time, you prepared the flour before he even stirred.

"You can't ignore me forever; I'm just going to keep bugging you until you tell me why you made such an adorable face." Kyle reminds you that he's still latched onto you by placing a lazy kiss on your neck, his lips trailing down towards your shoulder touching any skin that's exposed by the baggy shirt.

Every little kiss pulled you further and further away from your mixing, you couldn't help but melt under his affection. That didn't stop you from trying. You try squirming away from his lips, pushing your cheek against his face to nudge it out of the way.

"Baby, I'm trying to make you breakfast. Do you want to go to work hungry?"

"Hmm no, but if it means getting you to talk then I can suffer a little." He responds by tugging you back against him pulling you away from the bowl, the only shield against his wondering lips.

Kyle turns you around and lifts you up so you're facing him, using the counter so that you can look him in the eye. He's lucky you already put the ingredients you needed in the bowl, it didn't matter how pretty he looked with his messy bedhead and his soft green eyes, if he ruined your work, he'd get more than a pout. You expect him to move his hands from under your thighs, but he doesn't, instead he slots himself in between your legs and keeps the warmth of his palm on your exposed skin.

"No where to run now, come on love talk to me."

You look away for a moment, the heat from his hands was almost as warm as the blush on your face. "I- was just thinking about how lonely it is sometimes when you leave for work. I miss you..." You finally cave, how can you not under his gaze especially when it softens as you speak.

Kyle lets out a soft 'oh' that seems to drag out along with a sigh. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, one of his hands leaves your thigh and cups the side of your face his lips aren't on. "I'm sorry, you know getting out of bed is one of the hardest things I do every morning. I want nothing more than to stay wrapped up in the blankets with you."

This is why you didn't want to say anything, it was a selfish feeling. He was the one going out to provide for you both, he was the one who had to leave the house while he insisted that you stayed home to relax. When you first married Kyle, it was one of the first things he expressed he wanted, the need to take care of you and pamper you. It was a dream at first, having all that time to yourself and your hobbies and the only thing you needed to focus on was keeping the house clean.

Kyle pulls your face towards him, his index finger hooking under your chin to guide you back to him. His face drops to a frown when he sees the look on your face, his eyes studying you carefully.

"Hey, why don't we go out tonight? We can get some dinner and maybe catch a movie?" He's trying and it's so sweet, the way he doesn't seem to even mind your selfishness.

"That sounds nice. I'm sorry Kyle." You smile at him giving him a little kiss on the nose.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong."

"It's just-...you're the one that has to work and I'm being, I dunno clingy?"

"Baby you're not clingy. Honestly, I love that you want me here. I want to be here." If he wasn't already smiling at the way you kissed his nose, he definitely has a love filled grin now.

"I know and it makes me feel bad for telling you. Like, it's probably already hard enough for you to go to work."

Kyle goes quiet for a only a moment before shaking his head, the red curls bouncing from side to side as he does. He sighs softly and looks at you with heavy lidded eyes. The love in his smile matches the soft greens of his eyes.

"You're so sweet. Such a wonderful wife, you know that? I can't believe I'm this lucky to have married someone so considerate." Between his barrage of compliments and the way he peppers your face with so many soft kisses you can't argue back. "You're not making my life harder by wanting me to stay, I'm not burdened by you, I promise. Have I ever been the kind of guy to keep that kind of thing quiet?"

No. If Kyle Broflovski felt strongly about something you would hear it. It was honestly one of your favorite things about him, you never had to guess how he felt or if he wasn't upset and was too afraid to tell you. There were moments where he needed time to sort out his feelings or he'd explode, and he swore he'd never do that to you. Not you, not the person he bound his life to.

"There's more to this isn't there? Come on love, what is it?" Kyle Broflovski was also very good at reading you, turns out.

You pressed your lips together as your hands worked up towards his hair, carding your fingers through his fiery red curls. He hummed in delight at the way your fingers felt against his scalp, if you didn't want to risk ruining the moment, you'd compare him to a cat.

One should feel honored that Kyle would even allow them to see his hair when he was a kid, now here you were touching it and even massaging his scalp. You swore if you had enough time, you'd have him purring in your hands.

"I was just thinking about a way to not make the house so lonely."

"You want me to see if I can't start working from home? It'll be a little difficult, but I can-"

"No, no. I mean that would be awesome but no. I mean like...what if we had a little us running around? You know?" You whisper letting your voice drop as if someone could be listening in on your conversation.

Kyle's eyes widen and you watch his face turn a bright red, the freckles on his face pop against his skin. You've never seen him react like that, even before you were married in those early dating stages. Sure, there were times where he got nervous, times where he felt his heart speed up when he looked at you, times where he was puddy in your hands and you could pull a side of him that he'd never show anyone else.

In the bedroom it was you who took the lead. Maybe it was because Kyle was so busy being "dominate" in other parts of your relationship that when it was time for love making, he just wanted to let someone else have control. Being able to shut his mind off and just focus on the wonderful feeling you gave him was what heaven felt like, he was sure. And he was just lucky you liked the role, that you took to it so easily. There was no shame in his eyes, he just wanted to keep what you both did between you two. The world didn't need to know what went on behind closed doors. But the way he looked at you told a different story.

"You...want a baby? My baby?" His voice matches your level, but his voice seems to dip lower than his usual sleepy voice.

"Who else? I know we haven't really talked about it, but I think we're in a good spot and we'd make really good parents."

When Kyle doesn't respond you squirm a little on the counter, shifting in his hold that seemed to tighten around your thigh. You watched as he took a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered shut. Then he grabbed his phone and began tapping away against the screen. You went to move so you could give him the privacy he needed as your eyes caught the little text bubbles being sent. You tried your hardest not to read what he was texting but his hand on your thigh squeezed around the soft flesh, a silent warning to keep still. The way his jaw shifts and the veins in his arms poke out makes you tilt your head in confusion.

"I called off." His voice breaking the silence makes you jolt, that and the way he tosses his phone to the side.

"What?! Why!? I don't want to be the reason you're staying home." You try to protest further but you're cut off by the way his lips slam into yours.

"I've got plenty of sick days I never use. You're sitting here in my clothes talking about wanting my baby. And god damn it I didn't even want to go in today anyway." He growls in between the kisses, emphasizing each word.

"I always wear your clothes though! I don't see-... Kyle did asking for a baby get you worked up?" You ask pulling him back from your lips by his hair, he usually likes when you tug on the roots.

He lets out a small moan, but it's cut off by another growl, he grabs your hands holding your smaller wrists in his one hand. Pinning them above your head against the cabinets behind you makes you gasp, and your eyes widen. This was a new side to him that had your core pulsing with desire.

He didn't need to answer, you got it from that alone, but he did. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about wanting to fill you up. How bad I wanna cum in you until there's no question that you're pregnant."

You shutter and whimper at the way he speaks to you, his dirty talk working its magic. As the years went on, he worked on trying to keep it out of his vocabulary, but in moments like this where he gets worked up it would slip out.

But it never came out like this, you never realized how much you liked Kyle like this. You never saw the looks he would give you when you were so busy taking care of Ike. The way his eyes would linger with a dark hunger behind them as you took care of his baby brother like it was second nature. Thoughts of your own kids grabbing at your hip and hugging your leg, a baby in your arms and another one in his. How jealous he was that Stan told him one night that he was trying with his partner for kids. How Kenny already had one with another one the way. Kyle wanted his kids to grow up with theirs, maybe they'd be best friends like they were.

More importantly he wanted to see you pregnant, the need to take care of you was ingrained so deeply that he wanted this. Needed this. His cock was aching already over the fact that you brought it up and he didn't have to. You came to him wanting a baby and fuck he was going to give you one. Especially if you kept whimpering and pressing your body against his like that.

"Who's getting worked up now? Do you like that idea? C'mon talk to me Mama." Oh, the way he called you that was dangerous, his hot breath ghosting over your exposed collarbone.

"I-I-" You can't get it out, the way your head is spinning and the way his lips are working, making his mark on your skin. You yelp when his teeth sink in and his grip on your wrists tightens. "I do! I-I want you!"

He seemed to like that, liked the way you beg for him so easily. You feel him smirk into your skin and his free hand push up your shirt. His fingertips glide across your skin finding your breasts, there he gives your nipple a sharp pinch, rolling the nub between his index finger and this thumb. "You sound so pretty like this; I should have done this forever ago.... I'm gonna let your hands go so I can get this shirt off you. You keep them there." Kyle wasn't asking, not the way he clicked his tongue and rolled your nipple.

You cry out and nod, barely able to verbally respond, the pain was intoxicated something you didn't even know you liked. If this was how he was acting from just talking about putting a baby in you, you couldn't wait until he was actually fucking you. For now, you'd play his game, keep your hands above your head so he can slip the faded T-shirt off you.

"I never get tired of this." Next comes your shorts, he unties the strings keeping the baggy basketball shorts up and around your waist. His hands working on pulling them down until they pool beneath his feet, kicking them to the side. "I can't believe you thought for a second I would be upset with you for wanting me to stay home. Fuck, I'm glad you said something. Guess I don't have to worry about going to work hungry hm?" He returns to your neck, but he doesn't stay for long, he kisses a heated trail down to your breasts.

There his lips latch onto your hardening buds. His tongue swirls around the pink flesh hungrily sucking until they're red and sore. Each little cry and moan you let out only encourages him to give the other side the same attention. All the while his hands work on opening your legs to him.

His attention is pulled away when he feels your soaked cunt. Expecting to find your panties, he growls and looks down at you. You don't know how he went from looking you in the eye, to almost hovering over you with such a dangerous look. How he made you feel so small like you were prey.

"Was this a part of your plan? Make those adorable pouting faces and get me to fuck you on the kitchen counter? Wear nothing under my clothes so I can dive right into that delicious looking pussy?" You moan and throw your head back, not just from how filthy he spoke but from how he bit the inside of your thigh.

Teeth marks marking up and down your plump perfect thighs, they were perfect to him. Perfect in the way they felt under his teeth, perfect in the way they filled his hand, perfect in the way you tasted. All of you was perfect.

"Oh fuck~" You're nearly cut off by another gasp as his nips turn to kisses against your slit.

"Keep moaning like that, it goes so well with my breakfast." The way his tongue slipped through the lips of your cunt against your bud made your gasp turn to moans.

Kyle devoured you like you were his last meal, his tongue swirls around your nub like he had your breasts. You couldn't help as your hips rolled against his tongue chasing pleasure with greed, but he stops you with a firm hold on your thighs. His teeth graze your bud as a warning, a silent demand for you to sit still, but if the way he spoke and pinned you down was anything to go off of; you needed to keep pushing. So, you pushed against his hold again, squirming against his mouth.

When Kyle pulls back and clicks his tongue, it isn't until you see the look in his eyes that you know you're in trouble. "I kept my hands up like you told me to...w-what is it?"

"You know what. I'm trying to eat my meal in peace and you're making it very hard. Quit being a brat."

"But I was just-"

Kyle cuts you off again, but not with his lips or his own words, but from his hands wrapped around your throat. The tips of his fingers applied a healthy amount of pressure to cut off just enough air to make your head spin. His eyes narrow down at you as he forces your head up.

"You were just...what? Arguing with me? No, I think you were going to say, I'm sorry I won't move my hips again. I'll keep still so you can eat."

He waits. Waits for you to nod before letting your throat go, then he waits another second looking at you expectedly. As you gasp for air your tongue traces your bottom lip. "I... I’m sorry and I'll keep still so you can eat."

"Good girl."

Oh. Oh. Maybe you were more of a switch than you thought. Maybe it was just the way he said that with that delicious purr. At this moment you didn't really care to put a label on it, you were just burning from the praise. Not like you had a lot of time to think about it anyway, not when he knelt back down and started eating you out. His lips latched onto the sensitive nub pulling a moan from you as he sucked, his tongue flicks over it again and again. He's attentive to every sound you make from the way your muscles flex and bounce under his touch. All but humming when your yell for God or his name.

Throwing your head back, you swore you were seeing stars when he shook his head back and forth. The friction had you clenching around nothing and your nails digging into the wooden cabinets behind you.

"Kyle baby, I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum. I-I've been good I did what you told me!"

When he doesn't say anything, you have to fight the urge to grab him by the head and force him to look up at you. Slowly he looks up at you and the little flicker of fire behind them tells you all you need. It takes everything in your power not to close your eyes as you cum around his tongue, even more so when his tongue begins to greedily lap it up. You mewl and squirm trying to pull away from him, but he won't let you, won't let you move from his hold. Nothing you could have baked for him would taste as perfect as you do.

"So sweet~. Hmm always taking care of me." Kyle rubs his lips against your thighs again, wiping the slick off his jaw.

As he stands back up, he can't help but admire his work. The way your skin is marked with his teeth marks, the purple bruises on your thighs shaped like his hand, and now the way your face is flushed a dark red as you try to catch your breath. You can't quite read what's going on in his head, but he's got that look like he's thinking about something. The way his brows knit together and his eyes flicker from you to around the room.

Then he hums, picks you up and carries you over to the kitchen table. You shiver when the cool wood hits your back but it's a distant complaint as he hovers over you. Somewhere between the counter and the table he's slipped off his plaid bottoms and his boxers. Discarded somewhere with your clothes, you click back into reality as he pulls his shirt over his head. Most of his freckles are covering his shoulders, dusting across the pale skin and down his back. He raises a brow at you when he catches you admiring just how handsome he really is. It's only morning and he's already got you so dazed and worked up.

"Got something to say Mama?"

Fuck you were really beginning to like that, "just thinking about how incredibly lucky I am. We're gonna make some really pretty babies."

He smirks at you, the kind that would have made you fall to your knees if you weren't laying on the table. "Yeah? I was just thinking the same thing. How fucking beautiful you are. How pretty you're gonna look when I finally paint your insides."

You cover your mouth to stop the moan from slipping out of your mouth, but once again he stops you and pins your hands by your side. "No. Let me hear you. I need to hear you begging for my cock. Beg me to fill you up."

It takes a few teasing glides of his cock over you folds and a few more growls before you finally cave. The way the words roll of your tongue is like sin. "Please Kyle, I want you to fuck a baby into me. I want it so bad; it has to be you. Only you!"

"Fuck!" His own resolve crumbles just as the tip of his cock slips back down to your begging hole.

This isn't the first time you've felt him without a condom but this time it felt so different. Knowing he wasn't going to pull out this time was exciting, the fact that he could just let go and take you however he wanted. To claim you with his cum. You're so caught up in your own thoughts you don't even feel the way he puts your legs up on his shoulders, or his curls brushing against your face. It isn't until he finally sheathes himself into you that you snap out of it. You moan next to his ear when he bottoms out in you, the way your thighs burn feels so good.

"Your cunt's choking me, trying to milk me already baby? Don't worry I'll give you every last drop." Kyle lulls his head to the side as he begins lazily rocking into you.

You're almost folded in half from the way he has you under him, knees pushed back towards your shoulders. Kyle's got your hands still pinned by the side of your head; fingers intertwined with yours. Normally his eyes would flutter shut, he'd give into the sensation of his cock nudging into your walls, but this time he keeps them open. Like he is trying to memorize every time your lips form that cute little 'o' and a moan comes spilling out. The way your moans pitch up when he hits that delicious spot. The way you pant and beg for him to go faster.

That's when he shifts, the loving hold and lazy thrusts turn to fast paced fucking. Love making is always there, you never doubt that, but the way he's got his hands around your waist pulling you back onto his cock feels so raw. He slams into you with a newfound force neither of you knew he could muster. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, stars dancing across your vision. He rewards you with his own moans and grunts, the further his cock head pushes past your walls the faster he brings you to climax. Now that your hands are free from his strong grip, you place them on his forearm’s nails digging into his flesh. He hisses but it only seems to push him further.

"Come on baby. Cum around my cock. Yeah, just like that. Just like that!"

You arch your back and give him all you have. Your walls finally grip his cock as you reach your peak. Between your heart beating in your ears and the way he slams back into you, it's almost too much. Kyle finds a way to keep you on the line without pushing you too far. You feel the way his hips begin to stutter, and his moans become ragged. You know he's close.

"Yeah. Fuck you feel so good, I'm gonna- gotta fill you up. Take it!" He groans and then you feel his hot seed against your walls. Pushing up into your cunt, he plugs your hole with a final slam of his hips.

You and your husband lay there against one another, panting heavily until your breathing slows down to match one another. You can feel his lips pressed against your neck and his eyelashes tickle your skin. When you move your hands to his hair again, he knows you're okay, he presses a few short kisses onto your soft lips. Kyle feels you smile against his lips, and he doesn't even bother stopping the lazy one that comes across his.

"Never seen that side of you. I like it." You purr finally able to talk now that you've slowed down.

"Hm, keep that in mind when we do this again."

"Again?"

"Oh baby, we've got all day. It's Friday. I'm going to treat you to dinner like I promised. After that I'll take you upstairs and we're going to do this again. And again. Aaaaaand again. I'll keep my cock plugged in you like this and we'll go to sleep." His fingers push back into your hair, pushing it out of your sweaty face.

"J-Jesus Kyle." You shutter under his touch, unable to stop the way your walls flutter around him again. You can feel his cock bob in response, and when he slides his hardened member out slowly; you feel every little vein like he wants you to memorize it.

"Gotta make sure you're pregnant. My perfect, beautiful, wonderful wife deserves to be a mama. And what kind of husband would I be if I didn't give her exactly what she wants?" Kyle smirks down at you with newfound energy.

It was going to be a long morning, maybe you could convince him to let you finish making those pastries but you had a feeling that would be a battle. Especially since he's already started thrusting back into you. Maybe a few more rounds wouldn't hurt, you could always have him put the baked goods in the oven. After all he was doing so well already.

[whatifitookalilnap]

The Magic of Makeup

(Kyoshi x Rangi)

(A/N: EVERYONE PLS THERE IS A SMUT SCENE HERE! WE GET PORN WITH PLOT SO LIKE AVERT YOUR EYES IF THATS NOT YOUR THING!!!!! Also don't judge me cause IDK how diplomacy or nobility stuff works I'm here for drama. Anywho I already made a couple posts about this but I thought it was so funny that I decided to make a whole fic. The ao3 link will be posted right after this for those who prefer it. Anywho, pls enjoy!)

Kyoshi was jolted awake by Jinpa roughly shaking her entire body. The Avatar immediately sat up and grabbed her fans placed right beside her bed. 

“Who’s dying?!” Kyoshi exclaimed as she jumped out of bed.

“No one, but the Fire Nation nobility are here! Like, they are waiting in front of the gates as we speak!” Jinpa hissed.

“What do you mean they’re already here?! They were supposed to arrive at lunch!” Kyoshi yelled.

“That’s what I was told. I think this is some kind of power play. Just get dressed,” Jinpa insisted.

“Damn! Do you think I can get away with not wearing any of my usual makeup? There’s no way I’m going to have the time but I still need to look intimidating! It’s part of my whole shtick!” Kyoshi asked.

“You’re six and half feet tall, I think you can make it work. Now get changed, woman! We got people to argue with! I'll meet you there!” Jinpa said before rushing out the door.

Kyoshi cursed before springing out of bed to put on her usual business attire. Alright, the green outfit? Check. The headdress? Check. The fans? Check. Big ass gloves? Ah shit, they're not here. Whatever, it’s not that important. Well, that’s all Kyoshi has time for.

The Avatar quickly threw open the door to her bedroom and began speed walking down the hall. Kyoshi already hated leaving her room without makeup. Nowadays, putting on her makeup is step one of her morning routine. She can't remember the last time she handled Avatar business with a bare face. It made her feel vulnerable. Exposed. This meeting needs to end quickly.

As she was speed walking to the conference room where this meeting is to be held, Kyoshi spotted her girl briskly walking in halls. The Avatar couldn’t resist perking up at the sight of her girlfriend coming to meet her. Of course, Rangi had already been awake for an hour before the stupid nobles arrived. She’s always been an early riser.

“Did you have any clue they were coming in so early?” Rangi asked once they met up.

“No, Jinpa had to wake me. I had zero time to get ready,” Kyoshi sighed as the two fell into step with each other.

“I assume that’s why you’re not wearing any makeup,” Rangi very correctly guessed. 

“Yeah, there’s just no way I could have made it happen,” the tall woman confirmed.

“I think that’s for the best, honestly. Being punctual should take priority in this scenario,” Rangi nodded.

Kyoshi felt a surge of pride course through her when Rangi approved of her plans. If only the world knew how weak the Avatar is for her girlfriend. She’d be killed within a week. 

“Let’s get this over with. Hopefully the little bastards are more agreeable this time around,” Kyoshi sighed. 

How Kyoshi despises the damn Fire Nation nobles sent into the damn peace agreement. Kyoshi’s had like five other meetings with them and has been unable to come to an agreement all parties are happy with.

The names of the three nobles that have been utterly torturing Kyoshi for weeks are Akira, Nao, and Chari. Akira does most of the talking, Nao and Chari are really just her yesmen. They're all simply unbearable. The three of them were around her age of twenty two, which is probably what makes them so insufferable. They’re young, spoiled, rich, think they know everything under the damn sun, and worst of all, they don’t have the good sense to fear her. 

Anyone with half a brain should be terrified of Kyoshi! It’s like Jinpa said, she’s six feet and six inches tall! She towers over everyone she meets! Plus the makeup! Ghostly white face and bloody red eyes?? That’s the perfect recipe for fear! How can anyone not be terrified of her?

Maybe it’s wrong to feel so upset that some people aren’t scared of her, but Kyoshi can’t help it. People not having a healthy amount of fear when interacting with her makes her uneasy. If the literal Avatar can’t freak someone out, what can? 

“Wait, one more thing before we go in there,” Rangi said as she stopped right outside the door of the meeting room. 

“What? Did I forget something?” Kyoshi frowned.

“You did,” Rangi confirmed. 

Kyoshi furrowed her brows and went back through her mental checklist involving her attire. Outside of the makeup and gloves, Kyoshi is pretty positive she had everything she needed.

Naturally, Rangi proved her wrong. The firebender cupped Kyoshi’s face in her hands and gave her a light kiss on the lips. At once, Kyoshi’s arms went to Rangi’s hips in order to deepen the delightful sensation. Sadly, Rangi pulled away. 

“You’re going to do great. Stop worrying so much. That’s supposed to be my job,” Rangi smirked. 

“Kay,” Kyoshi said. You know, like an idiot. 

Rangi should never have kissed her right before such an important meeting. Now all Kyoshi can think about is the next opportunity for those lips to be back on her. Kyoshi is so in love with her it physically hurts. 

Okay, time to get the love struck look off her face before facing the nobles. Kyoshi took in a deep breath before nodding to Rangi. With that, her loyal bodyguard opened the doors to where Jinpa and the nobles sat. 

The Fire Nation nobles were muttering amongst themselves as they had during every single one of the past meetings. Typical. Kyoshi had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. However, once the three nobles looked at her, they immediately shut up. That was a surprise.

During the past meetings, even when Kyoshi made her presence known, the little trolls still blabbed on and acted as though she didn't even exist. They would only stop talking when Kyoshi started to speak. However, today she didn’t need to say a word before all eyes were on her. All of the nobles were looking at Kyoshi with shocked expressions, flushed faces, and one of them had their lips parted slightly open in what she can only assume is shock. 

This is suspicious as fuck. 

“Apologies, everyone. I hadn’t realized we would be meeting so soon. Please accept my tardiness,” Kyoshi said respectfully with a bow. 

What she really wanted to say was ‘couldn’t you have given a girl a heads up before meeting me at the crack of dawn’ but that didn’t seem appropriate.

Akira then sprung up out of her seat to pull out a chair for Kyoshi to sit. Kyoshi quickly glanced at Rangi and Jinpa in wonder to see if she's seeing the same thing. Now why on Earth would Akira do that?

“Of course, we certainly didn’t mean to inconvenience such a beautiful woman as yourself. Please, allow me,” Akira said.

Rangi looked like she wanted to set Akira on fire. Kyoshi shared the sentiment. What is she playing at? Less than a minute in and it's rather obvious they are sucking up to her. Ultimately, Kyoshi did sit down on the seat Akira pulled out for her in the name of civility. But that doesn't mean Kyoshi had to like it.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Avatar Kyoshi?” Nao asked.

Kyoshi shot Rangi and Jinpa yet another look. Are these idiots being serious right now?

“I didn’t realize I was so unrecognizable without my makeup,” was all Kyoshi said. 

Granted, that is a lie, but she really didn't know what else to say that's a polite statement. Whenever Kyoshi goes into town with a bare face, many do not make the connection despite her rather noticeable height.

“What? You’re Avatar Kyoshi? Really?” Chari blurted out. 

Oh, this is going to be a long meeting.

“Yes, I am,” Kyoshi nodded.

“I didn't realize you were hiding freckles under all that makeup. You wear them well,” Nao smiled. 

Is Kyoshi drunk? Did somebody slip her something when she wasn't paying attention? What in all Four Nations is happening right now? They must want something from her if they're being this nice.

“I think we need to get started with this meeting,” Jinpa rushed out hastily. It was almost as if he was in a panic. Odd.

“Of course. Please, start us off. Your voice is quite soothing, Avatar Kyoshi,” Akira smiled, chin resting in the palm of her left hand.

Kyoshi actually thinks she’s experiencing whiplash right now. In past meetings, when the discussion gets opened up on a subject, the nobles immediately try arguing for their side. It takes ages for them to be willing to hear Kyoshi out. Something is so wrong here. It's best to ignore that compliment for now.

The more the negotiations progressed, the weirder everything got. The three nobles, mainly Akira, kept blatantly sucking up to her by praising everything she did. While it's true her reputation has improved as the Avatar the past couple years, it certainly wasn't enough to warrant this kind of reaction.

Even one of the people on her side was acting strange. Jinpa, who's usually a man of patience and serenity, seemed very antsy to move things along. He would often try to steer the conversation away from the nobles when their compliments became too excessive.

Rangi was the only one who was making sense right now. As per usual, she took her role as a bodyguard very seriously. She stood there, stoic as a statue, ready to defend Kyoshi should any dangers arise.

Kyoshi stole a quick glance at her girl to find her looking ever so slightly more irritated than usual. Who can blame her, honestly? Kyoshi wants this to be over just as much as Rangi does.

About one hour in and Kyoshi is bored out of her mind. She propped her chin on the palm of her left hand. It's really not proper etiquette and she might get scolded for it later, but Kyoshi is not at a point where she cares. She then felt an itch on her nose, so she used her right hand to scratch it.

Akira was speaking like she always did, but her voice died down when she took a good look at Kyoshi's hands. This woman literally could not get any more strange.

“Is something the matter, Lady Akira?" Kyoshi asked.

"Apologies, Avatar Kyoshi. I hope I did not offend you, I was simply caught off guard. You just have the most beautiful hands," Akira said earnestly.

Did Jinpa squeak? Huh.

Well, Kyoshi had to fight the urge to laugh. Man, they are really grasping at straws here. She must have run out of things to stroke Kyoshi's ego about. The Avatar is well aware of the state of her hands. Beauty is not on the list.

"Please, no need to fill my head with empty compliments," Kyoshi insisted.

"I assure you, my compliments are nothing but sincere. You have the most wonderful hands I've ever seen," Akira said seriously.

Huh, weird. It honestly did seem like the noblewoman was telling the truth. Maybe she is. It could very well be that she's borderline insane, but that's not really the topic here.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but my hands are pretty banged up with all the scars. Consequences of those battles, I suppose," Kyoshi awkwardly laughed in order to lighten the mood.

"The way I see it, the scars you adorn are a testament to your bravery and honor. Courageous is the most beautiful thing a person can be," Akira said. Her two noble goons nodded their agreement.

She had to admit, Kyoshi feels moved. It's no wonder Akira is the spokesman of the group. That is a noblewoman who really knows how to sweet talk a girl. She did wonder why Jinpa squeaked again, though.

Okay, Kyoshi needs to think this through. The odd behavior of the three nobles is a mystery Kyoshi has the desperate urge to crack. The compliments, the pleasantries, the agreeability, there has to be a reason why.

Seeing the three Fire Nation nobles stare at her scars with that look in their eyes made the answer hit Kyoshi like a boulder. Finally, the Avatar understood the out of character actions. Those three are absolutely terrified of her.

It all made perfect sense. Scars in general can look pretty scary. Not only does Kyoshi have a rather large amount of them, the implications of what she experienced also must be freaking out the nobles. The scars show that Kyoshi has lived through much more powerful and intimidating foes than the ones who sit before her. It's visual proof that Kyoshi is the strongest person in this room. And they're terrified of that.

It has to be why Akira made such a point to compliment them. She's well aware of the battles Kyoshi fought to gain her scars.

The makeup and gloves were hiding the scars which must be why the nobles haven't seemed scared of her until now. Turns out, Kyoshi just had her approach all wrong. They did not fear scary makeup or a tall stature, they fear scars and Kyoshi's true face.

Their behavior makes complete sense now.

It's probably wrong that Kyoshi is so excited that she finally found a way to scare these people. They have been grating on her nerves for weeks and she finally has the upper hand. The Avatar is in full control now.

Kyoshi is absolutely going to milk this.

"It feels as though we've been stuck in this room for ages. It's getting quite hot in here," Kyoshi lied.

With that, the Avatar rolled up her sleeves where even more scars decorated her arms. Kyoshi was even bold enough to undo her collar a touch to reveal the scar on her neck. She snapped open one of her fans and fluttered it to gently brush against the neck scar.

Her actions had the desired effect. All three nobles immediately began intensely studying Kyoshi's scars, especially the one on her neck. They were red, evidently nervous, and now incapable of looking her in the eye. They finally feel terrified by Kyoshi. This is a memory she will cherish for years to come.

Kyoshi saw Rangi in her peripheral vision sitting with crossed arms and a deep scowl. The Avatar felt as though she was beaming with pride. Of course Rangi caught onto the fact that Kyoshi is working on her intimidation tactic and is playing the role of scary bodyguard to add to it. Rangi is just so smart.

"Avatar Kyoshi! Would you like me to, uh, open up some windows? I had no idea you were feeling so hot," Jinpa nervously rushed out.

"Please do," Kyoshi smiled.

Jinpa nodded and hurriedly opened up a couple windows as Kyoshi put her fan back at her side. She did what she needed to do to strike fear in their hearts.

"I must say, Avatar Kyoshi, you wield your fans as though they're part of you. It's quite impressive. You have very skilled hands," Nao pointed out.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard of the other things my hands can do, haven't you?" Kyoshi asked with narrowed eyes.

If her reputation precedes her, then stories resembling her scuffle with Xu Ping An would have certainly reached the Fire Nation. She would make it very clear that compliments should not distract from how truly terrifying Kyoshi really is.

"I, well yes. Many have heard stories of your, um, abilities," Nao rushed out.

"Many stories indeed," Akira mumbled.

Chari just sat there looking like an imbecile. Kyoshi wasn't really expecting much else from the lump.

"Alright, I'm going to cut to the chase. What is it that you want from me?" Kyoshi asked in a low voice to add to her intimidation.

Obviously, for them to be this scared of her, she must also have some kind of leverage they need. Apparently, Kyoshi would have to wait to find out.

"Avatar Kyoshi, I insist upon a recess at once!" Jinpa practically shrieked while standing up.

Everyone in the room was visibly shocked at the monk's outburst except for Rangi. Kyoshi's never known the man to raise his voice in such a manner, especially not in a meeting like this one. Whatever had Jinpa so panicked must be important.

"Of course. You don't mind a small break, do you?" Kyoshi grinned, knowing damn well they won't say no to her.

"Please, take all the time you need. We'll wait as long as it takes," Akira managed to rush out.

Hah, the annoying noble still looks flustered. Kyoshi could not be happier. They finally fear her. It feels so good to win.

Kyoshi left the room, quickly followed by Rangi and Jinpa. Once the door closed behind them, Rangi grabbed Kyoshi's arm and pulled her to the left.

"Make sure we're not followed, Jinpa," was all Rangi muttered out.

"Y-yes of course," Jinpa hastily agreed.

"Rangi, what's-" Kyoshi started to say.

"One more word and I'm putting you into horse stance for so long your successor will feel it," Rangi hissed.

Okay, so clearly she's not happy. Kyoshi can't imagine why though. That meeting is going spectacularly. The nobles are significantly more cooperative, they actually listen to what Kyoshi has to say, and they're now willing to give into her demands. She can't understand what Rangi could possibly be so upset about.

Maybe Kyoshi didn't notice something during the discussions? Is it possible the Fire Nation nobles are playing her and Rangi is going to let her know? It's certainly not the first time Kyoshi has made a major blunder like that. There really wasn't much time to contemplate this because in less than a minute the two women apparently arrived at their destination.

The spot Rangi led her to was a tiny hallway that had a single window at the end of it but nothing else. There are no doors or chairs, so no one really spends much time in this area of the building. This is a very interesting spot to talk about any potential issues from the meeting.

Kyoshi looked at Rangi and raised an eyebrow, still very unwilling to speak in risk of horse stance punishment. Rangi didn't say anything. No she did not. Instead, she yanked on Kyoshi's collar and crashed their lips together. Before she even had time to blink, Rangi had pinned her against the wall of the tiny hallway.

Is that what Kyoshi was expecting to happen? It most certainly was not. Is Kyoshi mad about it? She most certainly is not.

Kyoshi quickly put one hand on Rangi's shoulder while the other cupped the back of Rangi's neck to deepen the kiss. The bodyguard moved on from kissing her lips to slowly trail her mouth down Kyoshi's neck.

"There's other ways to rile me up, you know," Rangi mumbled into her skin.

That is something that Kyoshi will be noting for later. Especially if this is the result.

The Avatar gasped as Rangi began pressing hot kisses on the scar at the base of her neck. A low moan rumbled from Kyoshi's throat against her will. Fuck, that firebender knew exactly what she was doing. Rangi knows Kyoshi's body like the back of her hand.

Therefore, she knows that kissing Kyoshi's neck scar will automatically turn her on. Kyoshi can feel herself getting wetter by the second. Her cunt began clenching around nothing, practically begging to be stimulated.

That's when she felt Rangi's hand slowly creep down to the very top of her long skirt. Then, her fingertips ever so slightly went beneath the skirt where Kyoshi's underwear resided.

Holy shit. Is Rangi trying to do what Kyoshi thinks she's trying to do? Now? Of all the times?

"Rangi, we have a meeting," Kyoshi gasped.

"Just say the word and I'll stop," Rangi whispered into her ear.

A better Avatar would be able to resist. A better Avatar would be able to tell their girlfriend it's a bad idea to have sex when they're in the middle of an important meeting.

It would appear that Kyoshi is not a better Avatar.

"We need to be quick," Kyoshi hissed.

"Well who am I to defy the Avatar?" Rangi grinned.

With that, Rangi's hands slipped past the waistband and lightly brushed against Kyoshi's clit. The taller woman gasped once more and bit her lip to prevent the sound from coming out.

"Fuck, Kyoshi. I've barely even touched you," Rangi mumbled lowly.

The poor Avatar didn't even have time to respond before one of Rangi's fingers slowly entered her. Kyoshi gasped and clenched tightly around her finger. It's when Rangi started slowly moving her finger that Kyoshi let out a high pitch whine.

Embarrassingly enough, Kyoshi's always been rather vocal during sex. This really is not the time to be vocal.

"You know I love the sounds you make, but unless you want those Fire Nations nobles to see the Avatar getting fucked by her bodyguard, you're gonna need to be quiet for me," Rangi smirked.

The prospect of that scenario playing out is enough for Kyoshi's entire body temperature to increase. It's just not fair how sexy her girlfriend is or how her melodic voice gets Kyoshi all riled up.

The Avatar had gotten so wet that Rangi had no issues slipping a second finger inside of her. Kyoshi buried her face in Rangi's shoulder to muffle her moans. The way her fingers furiously thrusted inside Kyoshi brought her closer and closer to her breaking point.

While Rangi continued to fuck Kyoshi with her fingers, the bodyguard decided to continue her onslaught of kisses on the side of Kyoshi's neck. The sensation made the Avatar so weak in the knees that she's basically leaning on Rangi for support.

Kyoshi knew she wouldn't last much longer. Rangi's fingers were relentless and every spot her lips touched set Kyoshi's skin on fire. Then Rangi's fingers hit that perfect sweet spot that made Kyoshi want to cry out from pure bliss. The firebender's precise fingers hit that same spot over and over again, causing Kyoshi to arch into Rangi, desperate to be as close as possible to her.

Once Rangi's thumb began hastily circling Kyoshi's clit, it was over for her. The Avatar had to physically bite her lip to prevent her moan from coming out as she finally reached her climax. Evidence of Kyoshi's wetness was coated over Rangi's fingers as she slowly pulled them out of her. Rangi made direct eye contact with her as she licked Kyoshi's arousal right from her own fingers. Kyoshi's face burned at the sight.

Kyoshi was too busy reeling from her orgasm to mentally process the fact that Rangi had dropped to her knees. The bodyguard began to slowly lift up Kyoshi's shirt. The Avatar's eyes widened when she realized Rangi was not, in fact, done with her yet.

"Do you think you have one more left in you?" Rangi asked.

"No Rangi, we need to get back to the negotiations where literal nobility is waiting for us!"

Is what Kyoshi WOULD have said if she wasn't such a whore.

"Rangi please," Kyoshi begged in reality.

The Fire Nation woman grinned and threw Kyoshi's right leg over Rangi's shoulder while the other leg stayed planted firmly on the ground. Rangi rolled up Kyoshi's skirt to her waist.

"Be a good girl and hold this for me," Rangi whispered.

It was like Kyoshi's body had a mind of its own with how quickly she fulfilled such a command. Kyoshi used both hands to keep her skirt up as Rangi moved the Avatar's underwear to the side. Now her bodyguard got a full view of Kyoshi's aching cunt.

"Your pussy is just as pretty as you are," Rangi praised.

Kyoshi blushed at such a sincere and lewd compliment. A split second later, Rangi's mouth made contact where Kyoshi needed it most. The Avatar couldn't help but allow a low moan to slip out.

Rangi dragged her tongue along Kyoshi's entrance. Yet again, the Avatar had to bite her lip to stop any noises of pleasure from coming out. The bodyguard decided to focus on giving Kyoshi light kisses onto her clit before starting to suck it.

Kyoshi's pants and muffled moans increased as she was being brought closer to the edge in absolutely no time. The first orgasm already made her incredibly sensitive, she would come to her peak much faster now.

Rangi's tongue began circling faster around Kyoshi's clit in a way that made her vision blur. Kyoshi began helplessly grinding her cunt against Rangi's face to get even more stimulation as fast as possible. It all felt too good. Rangi is just too good.

Once again, the bodyguard has to essentially hold up Kyoshi's entire bodyweight. The way her tongue makes Kyoshi feel is just so intense she can barely think. Thank the spirits for the wall behind her.

Rangi's skilled tongue brings Kyoshi closer and closer to her breaking point. Kyoshi's hands squeezed her skirt as she felt herself approach her release. The bodyguard's hands gripped Kyoshi's thighs as she continued eating her out. Finally, finally, Kyoshi got to experience the sweet release she had been craving. For a second time, that is.

Kyoshi really couldn't stop herself from letting a breathy moan escape her lips. Rangi pulled back with Kyoshi's wetness all over her face. The Avatar blushed as Rangi had to pull out a small handkerchief from her pocket to clean herself from the mess Kyoshi made.

With the same amount of care one would use to handle a delicate vase, Rangi gently moved Kyoshi's leg off her shoulder. Kyoshi pouted, feeling the warmth of her girl leave her, but dropped her skirt once her underwear was readjusted.

Rangi finally stood up and peppered Kyoshi's face with light, playful kisses. The Avatar giggled as her touch began to tickle.

"We really should get back to the negotiations meeting," Rangi sighed while pulling away.

"Wait, what about you?" Kyoshi asked.

Kyoshi does her best to be a good girlfriend. It's only natural she'd want to return the favor.

"Don't worry about me. Knowing you came on my face was more than enough satisfaction. For now, at least," Rangi grinned.

Kyoshi blushed brightly and looked away from her lover's gaze. It always sounds so much more dirty saying it out loud than when they actually do it.

"Rangi?" Kyoshi asked once she felt her blush die down.

Rangi hummed in response. Kyoshi smiled and gave Rangi a quick but intense kiss.

"I love you," Kyoshi smiled.

At once, it was as though every hard exterior Rangi possessed automatically softened. It was a statement they both already knew, but it was always so good to say.

"I love you, too. Let's go, Jinpa's probably having a heart attack as we speak," Rangi said.

Kyoshi nodded and followed her girl back to the meeting room. Jinpa looked at them in pure relief once he saw them again.

"Everything okay you two? What took you guys so long?" Jinpa asked.

"Oh, we're perfectly fine. Just had to tend to the Avatar's needs," Rangi shrugged.

Kyoshis misses her makeup so much. She had to hold her fan in front of her face to hide the red blush spreading all over it. This meeting needs to be over five minutes ago. How is Kyoshi supposed to survive when the love of her life does things like this?

Please, for the love of all that is good in this life and the next, let this damned meeting end quickly.

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

The rest of the meeting went surprisingly well and without a hitch. All that was left to do was finalize the paperwork tomorrow and they would be out of Kyoshi's hair. Thank the spirits for that.

Now that the day is over, Kyoshi has the opportunity to have even more sex with her girlfriend. Life truly is good.

Once the Fire Nation nobles left the premises, Kysohi turned to her girl and gave her a smile of pure relief. The relief of finally being done with the most grueling task imaginable, talking to other people. Usually, Rangi returned her smile. Instead, the firebender simply pursed her lips and avoided Kyoshi's face.

Is she feeling okay? Rangi seemed distracted, which is very unlike her. Maybe all the recent negotiations have been getting to her?

"We need to talk," was all Rangi said before walking back into their home.

In no universe is the phrase 'we need to talk' a good thing to hear from the woman you're dating. Kyoshi felt like she was walking to the gallows as she followed Rangi back to their shared bedroom. Once they reached said room, Kyoshi sat on the edge of the bed. Rangi did not sit beside her. Instead, she chose to stand right in front of her.

Well now Kyoshi is slightly terrified for their relationship. She simply waited for the bodyguard to speak.

"Look, next time you use such a tactic to get your way in negotiations, at least warn me first. I realize sometimes a more, unconventional approach is necessary, but I was completely blind sided," Rangi frowned

"What are you talking about? That was the most conventional strategy," Kyoshi replied, very confused.

Intimidation tactics in general are very common to use. In fact, Kyoshi would say it's her favorite tactic of all time. How she loves striking fear into people's hearts.

Yikes, it sounded really bad when she put it that way.

"You're kidding me, right? There's absolutely nothing conventional about what happened back there!" Rangi snapped, voice laced with hurt.

Kyoshi has no idea why Rangi is so upset. Could it be Kyoshi had done something to offend her?

"Look, I honestly don't understand why you're so upset. I did what I always do. I scare the life out of them, they give us what we want. Simple math," Kyoshi insisted.

Rangi did not look amused at all.

"Scared them? You're claiming to have scared them? You have to be joking," Rangi scoffed.

"Uh, no. No I'm not," Kyoshi honestly told her.

Rangi stared at her for a moment before her entire expression changed.

"Holy shit, you're not joking," Rangi mumbled.

"Why would I?" Kyoshi asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rangi merely continued to stare at her for a moment. Then, she buried her face in her hands. She let out a strangled, almost choking sound and Kyoshi feared her girl was crying. Then she looked up and found Rangi laughing.

The fuck is so funny?

"I could not be more lost right now," Kyoshi bluntly stated.

Rangi, still laughing her ass off, walked over and sat next to Kyoshi on the bed. Once she was finished with her little giggles, Rangi let out a long, drawn out sigh.

"Spirits, I fell in love with a moron," Rangi said.

"I mean, you're probably not wrong, but why?" Kyoshi exclaimed.

She is just so confused. For once, Kyoshi thought she knew what she was doing!

"I swear, you're denser than the rocks you bend. Kyoshi, those nobles weren't scared of you, they were flirting with you," Rangi told her.

Kyoshi blinked twice. Then immediately rolled her eyes. That's what she thought was going on? Seriously?

"C'mon Rangi, there's no way. I think I would know if I was getting hit on," Kyoshi drawled.

"I had a crush on you for two years before you confessed," Rangi very rudely reminded her.

"That's true, but be realistic Rangi. I'm well aware of what I look like," Kyoshi scoffed.

"Believe me, so am I. What exactly are you trying to say?" Rangi glared.

Boy, her girl is not going to like this one. Along with being the Avatar's bodyguard, it was Rangi's life mission to build Kyoshi's confidence. The Avatar never really excelled in that department.

"No need for the looks, Rangi. It's not like I think I'm some hideous troll or anything. But, well, I'm crazy tall and have a lot of scars. It's not exactly an ideal look. Neither are the freckles, I've come to learn. Besides, it's like you said. I had nice hands before they got all scarred, but now," Kyoshi sighed while trailing off.

Rangi frowned before holding both of Kyoshi's hands in her own. She soothingly rubbed her thumbs against the back of Kyoshi's hands.

"I'm sorry I made you feel as though a part of you was undesirable. That's really not what I was trying to say. I've always found your hands pretty, I just conveyed my feelings poorly. I admit, I have very complicated feelings about your scars," Rangi sighed.

She thinks that deep down, Kyoshi knew that already. Unfortunately, her self esteem has never really been sky high. Hearing Rangi say those words out loud was a bigger comfort than Kyoshi thought it would be.

"Oh? Like what?" Kyoshi asked curiously.

"On one hand, I hate that you had to experience so much pain. They're reminders that I wasn't able to protect you. You never deserved such horrible treatment. But on the other hand," Rangi said. "Spirits, Kyoshi, your scars are so attractive. The way they decorate your skin makes you look like a damn masterpiece. It's like lightning running across your body. I've never seen anyone so beautiful."

Rangi was staring at Kyoshi with so much love that it actually stole the air from her lungs. Immediately, the Avatar's cheeks were burning so badly they had to resemble the deep red of a fire lily.

"So you think I'm attractive," Kyoshi mumbled with a dopey grin.

Rangi gave her a look and lightly kicked her leg. Kyoshi let out a small giggle at her girlfriend's action.

"Of course I think you're attractive, you big oaf. We are in a romantic relationship," Rangi snorted.

Kyoshi giggled and pressed a small kiss atop Rangi's forehread. Her girl blushed a bit before leaning her head on Kyoshi's shoulder.

"You know, in the Fire Nation, scars really are considered to be a very beautiful addition to the human body. I hate to agree with that stupid Akiko or whatever, but your scars are so pretty. They're like little trophies of battles you survived. Let me tell you, they'd have gone ballistic if they knew about your stretch marks. They're a sign of growth and health back. Just another part of you so attractive it drives me insane," Rangi told her.

Kyoshi blushed once more at the mention of said marks. Her stretch marks mainly littered around her breasts and thighs. Now that Kyoshi thinks about it, Rangi's always given them special attention.

"Also, fuck Yokoya beauty standards. I adore your freckles. The jackass nobles certainly did too," Rangi huffed.

Kyoshi giggled and kissed her girl's nose. Then, realization dawned on her.

"Oh spirits, does that mean me showing off my scars," Kyoshi trailed off.

"Yeah, you were basically seducing them. It was very effective," Rangi confirmed.

"That's so humiliating! Now everything I threatened just sounds sexual!" Kyoshi groaned while flopping on the bed.

Rangi laughed and laid down next to her. Kyoshi adjusted herself so that they were eye level. Spirits, Rangi has the prettiest eyes.

"That may or may not be why I dragged you out of the meeting. I get that people flirt with you, I do. But it just seemed like you were flirting back this time," Rangi admitted quietly.

Kyoshi frowned at the realization that it definitely seemed like she was flirting. She cringed remembering the comment about what her hands had done. That really sounds sexual and Kyoshi absolutely hates it.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to," Kyoshi honestly told her.

"Now I know you didn't. I'm not upset since you were unaware. I guess I just got too jealous. I wasn't too much during that meeting, was I? I hope I didn't pressure you into anything," Rangi worriedly stated.

It shouldn't be possible to be this in love with someone, yet here Kyoshi is. The amount of love she has for Rangi is far too much to be contained in this world.

"Of course I wanted everything you gave me. I'll sleep good tonight knowing that my stoic, calm, and collected bodyguard fucked me in the middle of a negotiations meeting because she was jealous," Kyoshi teased.

Rangi groaned and playfully shoved Kyoshi's shoulder. The Avatar merely laughed and scooted closer to her.

"You're not the only one who gets jealous, you know. I swear countless people have tried hitting on you. I never feel too upset about it because you shut them down so quickly it baffles them," Kyoshi smiled.

Rangi merely kissed Kyoshi on the lips in response. Kyoshi was more than happy to feel her love's lips on her once more.

"I still can't believe you didn't notice, they were being so obvious about it. I really shouldn't be surprised. Not like this is the first time you were flirted with and were completely oblivious," Rangi sighed.

"What? What other times are there?" Kyoshi frowned.

"My point exactly. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about," Rangi teased as she kissed her cheek.

Kyoshi just smiled and observed Rangi's face for a moment. Truly, has there ever been a more beautiful woman? Kyoshi doubts it.

The Avatar was going to change the subject and suggest the two get a quick nap in, but stopped herself. There's just one detail that still doesn't make sense about today.

"Oh, quick question. Do you know what was up with Jinpa during the meeting? I've never seen him so antsy," Kyoshi asked.

Rangi's face turned bright red and she avoided Kyoshi's gaze. It took her a couple moments, but Rangi finally gave her an answer.

"That was unfortunately my fault. I'm not as calm and collected as I look. Seeing someone flirt with my girlfriend kind of makes me seethe with rage. When they started hitting on you, I thought I was gripping the chair but I was really digging into Jinpa's arm. He told me it was fine so pretty much every time you were hit on, I squeezed his arm. I'm pretty sure I ended up burning it at some point. So, uh, please remind me to apologize to him tomorrow," Rangi sheepishly told her.

Wow.

"Between the two of us, that poor bastard needs the biggest raise in all Four Nations."

"Agreed."

[universesweetheart]

Your Umbrella (Dazai x Reader)

I love him. My baby, my love, my sunshine is safe and happy in my bed.

Wrote this before watching today's new episode! This feels rushed because I was too excited for the new episode to wait to write it out. Sorry babes, Dazai is my top priority.

Post episode Mars: I giggled and kicked my feet like a little girl! That was some gay shit, but HELLO DAZAI IS ALIVE! My babyboo ahh.

(Also did you guys see the chapter236 JJK leaks?! I shall write for Gojo...I'm coping)

Writing is how I cope.

In which we talk with Dazai while we both overlook the setting sun (see what I did there hehe)

Bye now - Mars ♡

Together on a bench, onlooking the sunset, you and Dazai sat in silent. The rays of the warm sunlight pleasant on your skin and face. The clouds, a pretty colour of orange and yellow. The blue contrast of the sky blended nicely.

“Why are you a detective?” you asked Dazai, you were in a sulky mood today, you felt… drifty, for lack of a better word. It was one of those days where you wake up and question your existence. Why were you you? Why did you want to do this job? Why did your life turn this way?

Dazai shifted his gaze to you, his eyes looking at yours. He let out a silent sigh before giving you a smug smile.

“Don’t I look like I belong here? Plus it’s quite interesting” He looked up at the pretty clouds and then muttered under his breath, “This job comes naturally to me”

“Brushing my teeth comes naturally to me but that’s because I’ve done it a million times” you stated, and you heard him chuckle.

“I suggest you don’t compare your little daily routine to my life darling” he snorted, eyes still on the sunset.

“Do you take pride in your job?”, you continued to probe. Your mind was curious, but your heart wasn’t. Your heart feared triggering him and making him angry, a product of your own troubled past. But you knew Dazai, you wanted to believe you did, and he wouldn’t snap like that. He was too much of an unserious person. But what if?

Dazai gave a small nod, confirming your assumption. He turns to look at you, “it’s because of my job that I’ve been able to accomplish many things” his smile smug, “Impressive, yes? Heh.”

“Many things like?” You seem to not take the hint to not go further but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Handling guns” he jokes and you chuckle, it wasn’t even funny. His voice just made everything sound giddy.

“Have you accomplished happiness?” you tilt your head and look back at him.

Dazai freezes up but quickly basks it with a little laugh and turns backed to face the sun. A desperate attempt to avoid your eyes. “Do I look unhappy?” he muses, his voice teasing.

“I’d rather not judge a book by its cover. You tell me.”

Dazai laughs, “What a curious thing you are, asking me such a thing” he smiles, it’s not pretty you think.

“Should I be irritated by your little question or find it funny how straightforward you are” He asks you with a little smirk. When you don’t answer and just stare at him, he adds “Happiness had abandoned me, I’ll say, a very long time ago.”

Abandonment? Was this the closest Dazai will ever allow you to be? Desperate and lovesick, you grabble at any piece of crumbs he gives. It’s pathetic. You attempt to keep your cool, but you’re sure he knows how you really feel. He seems to always know everything.

“Doesn’t that contradict the philosophy ‘Happiness is found inside of us’?”

Dazai glances at you for a moment, then back to the sun, he let out a small hum of interest. You really had a way of surprising him, not that he’d ever let you know that.

“I suppose so, however the happiness I’m searching for cannot be reached. I assure you that.”

You stole a glance at his face, he seems to be reminiscing on something. Or maybe that was just another façade to lead you astray from his true feelings.

“Why not?”

With a bit of hesitation, he smiles, eyes bright. A change that catches you off guard, Dazai shifts closer to you. The edge of his trench coat brushing up against your pants. He lowers his voice several octaves, almost in a forbidden whisper, “Because I am searching for one thing that cannot be obtained.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “And what’s that? Dinosaurs?”, a futile attempt to lighten up the conversation. You wanted so badly a shred of him, the real him, but now that you think you’re getting it, you’re not sure. You’re running away.

Dazai laughs amused by your response, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he closes them, letting the laughter overtake him. “Good observation, but no” he clicks his tongue playfully, “To put it simply. I am searching for one thing to fill…” he sighs out and shakes his head a little.

“Ah” he giggles, “I’m not sure what I’m searching for” he deflects. He doesn’t know if he should share, if he could bare to say it out loud. Because to say it out loud would mean to admit it. To acknowledge it.

Bullshit. You knew it was a lie. He was a liar. Damn your heart for falling for him.

Looks at him, “It’s okay” you said with a sigh, “I’m searching for myself in a way,” you decided to turn the conversation on you to avoid going to go down the road of awkwardness.

“The thing…I’m searching for doesn’t exist, love doesn’t exist.” He sounded like he was in pain. Like it pained him to say that. To tell you that. You find yourself feeling guilty, did you pressure him?

“Love isn’t limited, so again, why?” you continue.

Once again for the multiple time, Dazai laughs “Curious little thing indeed” he turns to look at you, “Think you have a chance, Bella?”

You find your face heating up and keeps your eye on the sun to avoid his gaze.

“Do you think you could meet my standards? They’re quite high” he teases and once again you think he’s deflecting. A big distraction to avert your eyes from peering at him.

He holds his head up high, his gaze on you unwavering. You aren’t looking at him, but the intensity of his eyes pins you to this old bench.

“Are they high to protect your heart?” you blurt you before you even knew what you were saying. “Sorry!” you instantly apologize.

Dazai was surprised by your statement, yes that was exactly what it was. He stayed silent for a moment, contemplating your words. “Perhaps,” he sighs, shall I take a chance? He questions himself, a battle between his brain. “I have set out expectations that I’m even unsure about myself.” He spoke and then stayed silent. He waited for your next words. His heart was pounding yet his face had a smug smile.

“Expectations are like umbrellas, they stop rain and sun from reaching us” you state, and then laughs.

“Indeed, but what’s your point?”

“Rain is like pain, yes your umbrella, your walls, protect you from it” you cross a leg over the next, eyes drinking in the sunlight. “But you miss out on the warm sun too.”

Dazai ponders to himself for a moment. It appears you’ve managed to grasp a greater sense of him. Did he underestimate you? No, he wouldn’t be so careless. “Quite the profound analogy you have there, it’s fascinating.” He smiles at you, “How did you come to this conclusion, might I ask?”

“You know, I like sun especially in the mornings and evenings, it’s like a warm hug” you fiddle with your shirt, “but I also like rain, though sometimes storms are too harsh for my umbrella.”

Dazai observed you for a while, the silence between you two comfortable. He noticed the light pink tinting your cheeks and the way you avoided his eyes. You had intrigued him, maybe he truly had a soft spot for you.

The silence was not comfortable for you, did you overstep? Did he find your analogy dumb? Your mouth acted on its own, “I always use my umbrella” you stated, “But one harsh storm broke it, and I was drenched with a skeleton of an umbrella” your eyes have this faraway look, he notes.

“And then the sun hit me and I wasn’t ready and I was scared” you breathe out, closing your eyes. Dazai thinks the sight is better than the setting sun, “But it dried up my wet clothes and wet skin and wet hair. It felt warm and…yellow” you laugh softly, “yellow is such a beautiful colour, yes?”

He hums, “Are you saying that you decided to get rid of your protection and walk and bask in the sunlight that you so adore” his voice is light and teasing. His eyes laser focused on you as if you’d burst open and come up with a new revelation.

“Yes, sun being metaphor for love. Rain for pain, umbrella for protective walls and wet for I guess, depression?” you break down your words, trying to make him understand. He already understands, he just loves your voice so much.

“To translate from my understanding, you’re saying you choose love regardless of the costs?” you nod.

“You fascinate me,” he admits boldly, “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Someone in mind?”

“For love, the person you choose will be a caliber of that, do you?” He shifts his eyes to the clouds. A blissful sight.

“When I say sun is love I don’t speak of lovers. I would say I’m my own sun. A lover would be a mirror, reflecting to me how bright my own sun shines.” Your lips presses together into a thin line.

“A mirror, I see” he chuckles. “Oh, you curious little thing” he smiles.

“Then can we test this?”

“Test what?”

“Let go of your umbrella and let me be your mirror,” he takes a hold of your hand, “Belladonna,”

“Osamu”

His heart stops when you whisper his given name. It sounded so beautiful falling from your lips. “Say it again” he leans in and connects your lips together.

[theblackhate]

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Home?

“The world’s gone to shit.”

“Don’t talk like that, Delilah!” her mother scolded while thanking Emily for finding mushrooms to eat. “There’s only one way to know.”

“Asking Shane when he gets back?” asked the blonde, who was perhaps a few years older than Delilah.

Around them, a large group of people kept themselves busy in any way they could, trying to fill the empty moments and be helpful during this crisis. It was a kind of routine, something that allowed everyone to feel useful.

Delilah, however, seemed unable to adapt like the others. It had been a week since they had gathered at a mountain clearing, hoping they were far enough from the city to avoid attracting any of those things. Yet, every day, she found herself just watching the people moving around her.

The only useful thing she had done was help Daryl Dixon skin a squirrel. Daryl was a peculiar man—gruff, yet always ready to lend a hand around the small camp.

She glanced at her mother from the corner of her eye as she saw her stand up, looking for Dale, an old man with his beloved RV, to inform him she was going for a walk. Dale preferred spending his time on the roof of his RV with binoculars, keeping an eye on the surroundings and ensuring everyone was safe.

The man nodded, and Delilah looked away, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach. She knew that every time her mother left the camp when Shane was absent, it meant they were meeting secretly. Delilah knew what they were doing, and the mere thought made her nauseous.

Shane had been her father’s best friend and had recently returned with the news that her father was as good as dead in that hospital. Since then, her mother had thrown herself into Shane’s arms. Maybe out of desperation, but Delilah couldn’t find a good reason no matter how she looked at it.

“How are you?” Emily took Lori’s place, sitting closer to Delilah. “I know it’s not easy.”

Delilah shrugged. “Doesn’t change much for me,” she lied. “The gnats are bothering me more than this shitty situation, to be honest.”

Emily nodded. “Then you’re handling it better than many others.”

“We can say that. There’s not much we can do, in the end, whether we like it or not.”

Let me know if there are any more adjustments or details you’d like to add!

Delilah wanted to believe her own words, to find a light within that abyss, but it seemed impossible. She felt exhausted; sleeping with the constant fear of dying was something she wasn't used to and probably never would be.

Learning to live differently, finding a new balance—that was what they needed to do, and Delilah was afraid she wouldn't be able to manage it. She couldn’t accept that her world was truly over; everything that once mattered now meant nothing.

Emily sighed, getting up to go to her sister. Delilah knew she was drawing more and more glares each day, always sitting on the same log doing nothing. But she couldn’t bring herself to get up and help more.

Sometimes, she helped Daryl skin his catches or sat under the umbrella with Dale, watching the landscape while he obsessively scanned the area. She felt like she was going crazy, having to look after Carl because her mother was too busy screwing her dead father’s best friend.

Carl interrupted her thoughts, practically sitting on her lap, forcing a smile. "Hey, troublemaker, what’s up?"

"Nothing. Mom told me to stay where you could see me," he said, returning to playing with the toy cars Shane had given him. "And I’m bored."

Delilah hugged him, resting her head on his. "I’m bored too."

She glanced over at her mother, venturing into the woods under the watchful eyes of several survivors. Her mother’s affairs weren’t exactly a secret. Delilah felt almost embarrassed, uncomfortable with her mother’s behavior, as if her betrayal struck her on a personal level.

She could hear Andrea whispering to Emily, the curious looks from Carol. It wasn’t a secret, just like the fact that her mother had been married until a few days ago.

"Come on," she said, turning to Carl as she stood up and took his hand. "Let’s go bother Dale up there."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The October breeze sent a shiver through Delilah as she sat atop Dale's camper. She found the spot strangely comforting; observing the world from above allowed her to feel a semblance of control over her life.

She hadn’t shed a tear since what she considered the apocalypse began. She couldn't feel anything but a deep emptiness inside, like she was a soulless body, just like the dead roaming their land.

Sometimes she woke in the middle of the night, gasping, hoping to find herself back in her bed, with Carl tucked under the covers after a bad dream, or her mother coming in to wake her, smiling at the sight of the two siblings.

But nothing was the same anymore, even though many struggled to accept it. The world had changed, and with it, the people. Her mother was a perfect example; it had been two months since the world ended, and the woman she once loved now only evoked disgust in her, just like Shane. Shane, who she had once had a crush on as a child, who had taught her to ride a bike, was now just a stranger.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Dale took a seat next to her, resting his rifle on his lap, ready if needed. “I know you’re scared, we all are. But we have to stick together and find a way to move forward.”

Delilah glanced at him, chuckling. “Is that a nice way of telling me I should get off my ass and help?”

The old man laughed, his laughter echoing in the quiet morning. They were probably the only ones awake at that hour, except for Dixon, who preferred wandering the woods over staying with the group. Delilah couldn’t blame him.

“You know what?” Dale turned to the girl, curious about what she meant. “There’s nothing worth my time. I don’t want to go picking mushrooms or berries with Emily, fishing with Andrea, or doing laundry with Carol and the others!”

She sank deeper into her chair. “I want to be really useful, to have a purpose. Helping Daryl, for example, or going into the city with Glenn, Andrea, Merle, and T-Dog. Not stuck here, in a glass bubble because my mom is paranoid.”

“Your mother cares about you and Carl; it's completely understandable why she wouldn’t want to throw you into the middle of all those walkers. I get it, it's a mother’s love speaking.”

The two fell silent after their brief interaction, listening to the birds' chirping and enjoying the last rays of sun before winter. October was unusually warm that year, but nothing guaranteed the winter would be the same. They had to prepare for a possible sudden cold snap.

Delilah wrapped herself in her red leather jacket, perhaps a bit too heavy for the mild weather, but the warmth reminded her of home, when everything was normal.

Home—a concept that had lost all meaning in a few weeks. None of them had a home anymore, even though Lori insisted that as long as the four of them stayed together, they were home. But Delilah had never heard anything more ridiculous.

Shane wasn’t home, and her mother might as well leave if it were up to her. She couldn’t look her in the eye anymore; the only thing her presence reminded her of was the constant orders. Do this, do that.

A noise from the woods caught Delilah's attention, causing Dale to jump to his feet and aim his rifle in the direction of the sound. Soon, the figure of Daryl emerged from the trees, with squirrels slung over his shoulder. The man shot a glare at Dale and gave Delilah a quick nod. She obeyed, quickly climbing down from the camper to meet him.

“Here,” he handed her the squirrels before heading back into the woods. Delilah watched him until he disappeared, finding him to be a particularly intriguing man. Without wasting time, she settled into her usual spot, took out her knife, and began making a circular cut around the tail.

When she finished, her hands were covered in blood, but at least they would have something to eat. The sun had fully risen by now, waking up the rest of the group and starting the daily chores. Carl soon joined her, clinging to her side out of boredom, following her around all day until Sophia invited him to play with the other kids.

In a way, she envied them as she watched them run around the camp, seemingly unfazed, as if they were just at a summer camp while she was stuck rotting in her usual spot. T-Dog had joked that she’d probably wear a hole in the log from sitting there so much.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Lori's voice came from behind her as she placed a kiss on Delilah's head. “Did you sleep well? How long have you been up?” Delilah shrugged.

Lori sighed, placing her hands on her hips, clearly distressed. She knelt in front of her daughter, trying to catch her eye. “Delilah... please look at me,” she said, taking Delilah's face in her hands, forcing her to make eye contact. “I know it’s tough, but—”

“No, don’t lecture me. You don’t have the right when you’re sleeping with Dad’s best friend,” Delilah interrupted, her tone harsh. Lori was taken aback, left speechless. She looked at her daughter, mouth agape, unable to find a defense because, in reality, she didn’t even know how to defend herself. “Do you really think you're being discreet? Everyone here knows! And you don’t know how ashamed I am that you’re my mother. You come off as nothing but a slut right now. You jumped into his arms right away, you didn’t even mourn Dad.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” Lori snapped, but Delilah stood up, leaving her mother alone, ignoring her calls. She had no intention of wasting time arguing about something that should never have been up for debate.

Hearing the commotion, Shane got up from the chair where he was cleaning knives and grabbed Delilah's arm. “Is everything okay?”

She looked at him, wondering if his kindness and concern were just a ploy to win her over, but she had no intention of playing his game. “Don’t touch me, you disgust me,” she snapped, shaking off his arm and walking away, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

Shane turned to Lori, confused, and seeing her devastated expression, he quickly pieced together what had happened. He rubbed his forehead, unsure of how to handle the situation, knowing that from now on, working with Delilah would be even more challenging.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“What are you doin’ out here, kid?” Daryl's voice startled her. She turned quickly, noticing him sitting under a tree, working on his crossbow. “It’s dangerous.”

“I needed some space,” she shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “What are you doing?” she ventured to ask.

He looked her up and down, a perpetual scowl on his face. “Stuff.”

Delilah stared back, unfazed by his usual cold demeanor. Gathering her courage, she sat down next to him, leaning against the tree, hoping he wouldn’t shame her by sending her away. To her surprise, he said nothing, only casting the occasional sidelong glance.

“Not here to comfort you, if that’s what you want,” he said abruptly, making her turn to him. His eyes were fixed on his crossbow, his thick fingers adjusting a loose string.

“I just need some silence,” she replied, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze rustling the leaves above them, the sunlight warming her face. Finding moments of peace in this new world was rare. One always had to be on guard, and Delilah just wanted to rest for a few hours. Surprisingly, Daryl let her.

They stayed there for what felt like hours, lulled by the chirping of birds and occasional laughter from the camp. Her tranquility was abruptly cut short when Daryl nudged her foot with his boot. She opened one eye, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Get up. I’m going huntin’.”

“Can I come with you?” Delilah's request seemed to put Daryl in a quandary. He looked at her with annoyance, but she took it as a victory that he didn’t immediately say no. She stood up, brushing dirt and leaves off her pants, following him into the woods. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He stopped, turning to her and pointing a finger in her face. “Stay behind me. Don’t make noise.”

Delilah mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, earning an eye roll from him. She would do anything to break the routine, and if that meant staying silent as a mime, so be it.

She drew a knife from her belt, ready for any unexpected encounter with one of the undead. Daryl moved through the forest as if he knew it like the back of his hand, his steps silent despite his size. Occasionally, he would stop, aim his crossbow at the treetops, and fire, hitting a squirrel that fell to the ground, lifeless. 

He handed them to her, instructing her to tie them to a rope he gave her so they could carry more than a couple at a time. She obeyed, finally feeling genuinely useful for something other than playing house.

The sun was high in the sky, indicating it was probably early afternoon when they were drawn to a strange noise. “What the hell is that?”

“Sounds like an alarm,” Delilah said, moving next to Daryl, trying to determine the source of the noise. But another thought invaded her mind. She turned to him, panic rising inside her. “Won’t it attract the walkers?”

Daryl seemed to come to the same conclusion because he nodded and started retracing their steps. “Let’s get back to camp. It’s not safe.” She followed him like a faithful puppy, worried he might leave her in the woods with no way to find her way back because, if she were completely honest, she hadn’t paid attention to their direction.

It took them a while to return to camp, but when they arrived, they noticed the alarm had stopped. The source was a sleek red car. She turned to Daryl, hoping he might appreciate a good engine, but when she looked, he was already heading back into the woods.

She sighed, guessing they had only returned so he could ditch her there, getting rid of her presence. “Jerk,” she muttered, placing the squirrels near the makeshift kitchen and turning back to inspect the car.

“We’ll get some good parts for the RV from this,” Dale said, coming up beside her, examining the engine to check its condition. Delilah grimaced. “Do you really have to tear it apart?”

The old man smiled, leaning over the hood. “We need the parts. Besides, believe me, you’ll find another nice car. Not like anyone can do much with them now.”

“Dad!” Carl’s shout made her turn quickly, searching for her little brother. When she saw him, her knees nearly gave out. If not for the car, she would have collapsed.

Carl and her mother were running toward a man in a sheriff’s uniform, and Delilah thought she might be losing her mind. Maybe she had hit her head somewhere or was having a stupid hallucination. Maybe it was finally her time; maybe she was truly going crazy.

But when her father picked up Carl, falling to the ground and holding him as if his life depended on it, she realized her father was really there. Rick Grimes was alive.

Her heart tightened in her chest as she watched her mother hug and kiss him, but it couldn’t distract her from the fact that her father was alive. She saw him cry with joy as he embraced his family, then pull back slightly to look around, asking Lori something.

Delilah moved from where she had been leaning against the car, meeting her father’s eyes before running toward him. He caught her in his arms, lifting her off the ground and kissing her head, repeating how much he loved her like a mantra.

For the first time since the end of the world, Delilah Grimes cried in her father’s arms.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“Can I come with you?” Delilah asked, approaching the group preparing to head back into the city to search for Merle Dixon and the bag full of guns. Rick didn’t even turn around before responding.

“No, sweetheart, it’s too dangerous. Stay here with your mom and Carl.”

“But—”

“No way, Lilah, don’t even think about it.” Rick insisted, giving her a kiss on the head before setting off with the group towards the city, once again leaving the rest of the camp to fend for themselves.

Delilah sighed, returning to her usual spot until Carl approached her with a smile. “Wanna come catch frogs with us?”

Delilah glanced at Shane behind the boy, noticing how his demeanor had shifted since her father's return. The mere thought made her nauseous, but what worried her most was the change in his gaze—possessive, dangerous.

“Uh, okay,” she agreed, letting the two boys lead the way while maintaining her distance from Shane and staying silent until they reached the women at the river, who were washing clothes.

It was a sweltering day for October, but none of them complained, instead relishing the warmth. They had been lucky to find a quarry so close to camp, providing them with fish and water to sustain them.

“I can’t catch anything,” Carl whined, his feet in the water, while Delilah watched from a rock, not entirely convinced to join them in the cold water.

Shane glanced around, then turned to the boy. “Yeah.” The atmosphere between the two was tense, different from just a few days ago, and Delilah was curious about what had happened, what had been said, to change their relationship so drastically.

In all the years Shane had been part of family events, dinners, lunches, and birthday parties, there had never been such a strange tension between them.

“They’re smart, they stay underwater,” Shane added.

“Maybe they’re just not interested in you,” Delilah commented. Her remark wasn’t entirely ignored, but Shane chose not to respond beyond a tight smile, not letting on that her words had irked him. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper in front of Carl.

“Little bastards, they know something’s up. That’s why you have to do it the old-fashioned way.” Shane proceeded to explain a rather pathetic plan to Carl, to which the boy responded with lukewarm enthusiasm.

Shane lay in wait before diving into the water, splashing Delilah. At least Carl seemed to be enjoying himself, laughing as he watched Shane thrash around in the water and warning him about the frogs swimming towards him.

There were no frogs, but that was a detail Delilah chose not to share with Carl.

When Shane sprayed water towards Carl, it hit Delilah square on, causing her to stand up and try to wring out her clothes. It wasn’t the time or place to get sick from a sudden gust of wind.

"Come on, Delilah! It's just a game!" Carl exclaimed when he saw her walking away from the quarry, a little sad that his sister had left. "Wait for me!"

He left the net in the water, moving away from Shane and trying to catch up with Delilah, catching her by the shirt. "You're not mad, are you? It wasn’t Shane's intention to get you wet."

"No, Carl, I'm fine. I just don't want to get sick, that's all," she reassured him, and the boy looked at her in silence. "I promise, pinky swear." She extended her little finger, and Carl smiled, hooking his with hers. Shane caught up with them shortly after, soaked from head to toe, a serious look on his face as he watched Delilah crouch down to Carl's level.

She took him by the hand, leading him out of the quarry to dry him off and make sure he didn't catch a cold either. Once she was sure he was in dry clothes, Delilah insisted he take a nap to recharge his energy, especially since there was nothing else to do, trying to fill his time as much as possible.

But voices outside the tent woke him up, also stirring Delilah from her daze. "What's going on?" he asked, yawning and stepping out of the tent, his sister following soon after.

They saw much of the group heading towards a side of the camp, and they decided to join them, holding Carl's hand in case there was danger. She kept him behind her, acting as a shield until they stopped in front of a rather bizarre scene.

Delilah approached Carol. "What's happening?"

The woman shook her head. "I have no idea. It seems like it's been going on for hours. The heat must have gotten to him, poor thing."

A man named Jim was digging holes in the ground, and the most frightening and chilling thing that gave Delilah goosebumps was the fact that they were human-sized. She held Carl close, worried that Jim had really lost his mind and was about to do something foolish.

"Jim, why don't you stop?" Shane tried to talk to him, but the man continued undeterred, acting as if he hadn't heard him, and given his condition, it was highly likely that he hadn't.

The sun beat down harder than ever, and Delilah found herself compelled to take off her jacket to avoid risking heatstroke; her shirt was sticking to her back due to a thin layer of sweat that was starting to cover her forehead as well.

"What do you want?" Jim's voice was hoarse, tired, and irritated.

"We're all just worried, that's all. Dale says you've been here for hours."

"And so?" the man seemed genuinely confused, looking around to take note of the worried and frightened faces of the rest of the group.

"Why are you digging? Are you heading to China, Jim?" Shane tried to lighten the mood, ignoring the clear signs of stress in the man in front of him.

Jim raised his arms, smiling sarcastically. "What does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone," and he resumed digging.

"If not yourself, then, Jim, it's 37 degrees now. You can't go on like this," Delilah realized it was hotter than she thought, not imagining that October could become so hot even though it was normal to have high temperatures around this time where they were. Not this high, though.

Shane approached him, preventing the others from understanding what he was saying, and in no time, he had Jim pinned to the ground, forcing him to stop. "It's for your own good, Jim," he said.

Delilah took Carl away from the scene, not wanting him to witness such acts of violence not so much for fear that he would get strange ideas, but because she knew how much he cared about and admired Shane; she didn't want to ruin his vision of him. She ignored his complaints, assuring him that Shane was more than capable of handling the situation on his own.

But Delilah knew she couldn't protect Carl forever, especially since that same evening the first attack would reduce the group and bring death into their existence.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Delilah watched her father talk into the walkie-talkie while looking out at the city of Atlanta from a distance, lost in his conversation with someone she had no idea about. It still felt strange to her, surreal even, that her father was there with them and not in a hospital turned into one of those walking dead.

It was a miracle.

But the peace after the previous night's attack had been shattered. The now smaller and frightened group no longer felt safe in the woods and intended to move towards the CDC in the hope of finding some answers.

She watched Carl and Sophia reluctantly say goodbye to Eliza and Louis, the only other children in the group, before heading down a different path, most likely never to see them again.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" Rick put an arm around his daughter's shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug as they watched the same scene. "I promise you, everything will be fine. I swear."

But Delilah didn't know if she could believe that. She had learned more than once since the beginning of this new world that things wouldn't always go the right way, yet a part of her wanted to believe it. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting his gentle touches soothe her in the hope of dispelling the fears that formed in her mind every day.

"I want to believe you," she whispered, pulling away when she saw Shane approaching from a distance. She excused herself, moving away from the two men and joining Carl, who was now watching Jim with an expression of distrust.

She couldn't blame him. It had only been a few hours since they discovered he had been bitten, and the idea that he might turn into one of those things made everyone tense, scared that something like last night's incident could happen again. "Hey, little man."

Carl barely turned, his gaze still fixed on the man tied up under the tree. "Want to help me finish putting away the stuff? I need your strong arms to move all that gear, or I'll be here until tomorrow."

She tried to lighten the mood with humor. It was hard to put on a smile that wasn't genuine, but she did it for Carl, for his safety.

The boy nodded slowly, walking towards the last tent that needed to be packed up, and Delilah followed shortly after, closing it all up and loading it into Dale's RV for the journey.

She took one last look at the breathtaking view they were leaving behind, hating the fact that such tranquility was a result of the world's end and not just a simple family trip. She climbed into the RV with the others, silently complaining about the fact that they had brought Jim along in the hope of finding a cure at the CDC.

Dale glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he drove, feeling pity for the girl's lack of liveliness. He had gotten to know her a bit during those weeks they had spent together and found her to be a bright girl, perhaps too bright for her own good, and in a normal life, she could have been very successful with that sharp mind.

He sighed, seeing the light in her eyes dimmed, knowing there was nothing that could restore it. In this world, you had to learn to survive, or you perished.

"Damn," Dale exclaimed as he saw smoke billowing from the RV's hood, pulling over in the middle of the road to check if the damage was severe. "This old clunker won't last much longer."

It took Delilah a moment to realize they had stopped. With her eyes closed, she'd been trying to block out Jim's agonized groans from the back, where he was starting to lose his mind.

She leaned forward to look out the window, noticing the entire group had halted. Rick was next to Dale, inspecting under the RV's hood. He gave his daughter a reassuring nod before returning to his conversation with Dale.

She settled back into her seat, trying to get some sleep. She had no idea how long they'd be stopped or on the road, what awaited them at the CDC, and certainly didn't want to face it with only a few hours of rest. It was hard to get a good night's sleep under their conditions, but inside the RV, she felt somewhat safe, if not for Jim.

She growled in frustration when she couldn't relax, the man's presence too overwhelming. She opened her eyes when she felt movement, the RV rocking slightly, and soon after saw her father making his way inside.

"Everything okay?" she asked, watching him head toward where Jim lay, drenched in sweat and his face twisted in agony. She went silent, pressing herself against the seat to overhear their conversation.

Rick stood by the bed. "We'll be back on the road soon, don't worry."

"Oh, Christ. No," Jim moaned. "My bones… my bones are like glass, every little bump…. God, this trip is killing me. Leave me here. I'm done." He looked at Rick, resigned to his horrible situation. "Leave me here."

His request stunned the entire group, making the rest of the journey solemn as they lost another member. Delilah watched through the window as Jim's figure under a tree grew smaller. She closed her eyes when she saw him put the gun barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger.

Delilah woke up when she subconsciously felt the RV stop, realizing they were in front of what she assumed was the CDC.

"Are we here?" she asked, stretching, her muscles stiff from the position she had slept in all day. Dale nodded and got out, grabbing his rifle and waiting for everyone to disembark before closing the door. "Wow."

The entire group paused to take in the scene before them; abandoned military vehicles were everywhere, barricades at every corner, but the most disturbing sight was the hundreds of bodies scattered across the area. They were careful not to touch them, unsure if they were truly dead or the walking dead.

The putrid stench of the corpses made Delilah gag, forcing her to turn away from the group and vomit the little food she had eaten. She felt the acidity of her stomach in her throat and was grateful when someone placed a hand on her back and handed her a bottle of water, until she saw who it was.

"Alright, keep moving, let's go!" Shane ordered quietly, understanding that the less attention they attracted, the better. Delilah cringed as she felt his hand still on her back. "Thanks," she muttered, handing back the bottle and shrugging off his hand.

She quickened her pace to rejoin the group, ignoring Shane’s intense gaze boring into the back of her head. Carl reached out his hand to his sister, and she took it, squeezing tightly, not wanting to be separated again.

It felt like navigating a minefield. Glenn pointed out a few walkers with his rifle, who were wandering aimlessly instead of lying still. Carl’s grip tightened painfully on her hand, making her wince slightly from the pain.

The odor grew more pungent, and Delilah had to cover her nose with her arm, like many others in the group. When they finally reached the CDC, they found the shutters closed, the place seemingly barricaded from the inside. The faint glimmer of hope within each of them began to fade.

“Walkers!” Daryl shouted, rushing forward and firing his crossbow. Glenn and Dale joined in, trying to protect the group as they desperately searched for a way in. “You led us to a graveyard!”

“He made a decision,” Lori said, letting go of Carl’s hand and moving closer to Rick.

Daryl snarled, “A bad decision! Look around, damn it!”

“Shut up. You hear me?” Shane snapped, getting in Daryl’s face and escalating the situation. They started shoving each other, making enough noise to attract even more walkers.

Rick tried to calm things down, but even Shane seemed to lose his patience. He argued that they were at a dead end and if they stayed there any longer, they’d all be dead. Suddenly, the shutters began to move.

The group fell silent, watching hopefully as the shutters slowly rose just enough to let them pass through. A voice crackled through the speakers.

“Get inside! Quickly!”

The faint hope that had almost vanished suddenly returned. Delilah squeezed Carl’s hand tighter, almost pulling him along as they ran towards the entrance. Once inside, the shutters closed behind them with a definitive clang, shutting out the chaos and the walkers.

Rick led the group down a dimly lit hallway until they reached a large metal door that slowly opened, revealing a tired but kind-looking man in a lab coat.

“Welcome to the CDC. I’m Dr. Edwin Jenner,” he said, his voice weary but welcoming. “You got here just in time.”

The group exchanged uncertain but relieved looks. Delilah felt a semblance of safety for the first time in ages, hoping they had finally found a place to rest and, maybe, some answers.

Rick stepped forward. “Thank you for letting us in. We didn’t know how much longer we could hold out out there.”

Jenner nodded, his eyes scanning the tired and worn faces before him. “We’ll do our best to help you. But you need to understand... there aren’t many answers here. Just attempts and hopes.”

Delilah, still holding Carl’s hand, knew those words held the harsh truth of their new world. However, even a glimmer of hope was better than the complete darkness they had been facing.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

She had no idea how long she had stood under the hot water, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away from the soothing sensation she had missed so much. When she finally emerged from the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, it felt like she was in a dream.

The room had a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and finally, some privacy. If it weren’t for the barricaded window, it might have felt like a hotel room.

As she started getting dressed, a knock on the door startled her. “I’ll be right there!” she called out, quickly pulling on some clean clothes. She hurried to the door and was surprised to see Dr. Jenner standing there, gloves on and a kit in hand.

“May I come in?” he asked, stepping inside and setting the kit on the desk. He looked at her for a moment. “Please, take a seat. I need to draw some blood.”

Delilah sat down and extended her arm. Goosebumps rose on her skin as he took her wrist and gently straightened her arm. “Why? None of us have been bitten or sick.”

“It’s protocol. I’ve already drawn samples from your family. Nothing to worry about,” he said. He didn’t smile or offer any reassurance, but his straightforwardness brought her a sense of comfort.

She nodded, watching him tie a tourniquet around her bicep. Curiosity got the better of her. “Where are all the other doctors? Shouldn’t this place be full?”

Jenner glanced up for a second before returning to his task. “I’m the only one left.”

“How did they die?”

Jenner paused, swallowing hard. “Various reasons, but there wasn’t an attack here at the CDC.”

Delilah felt a chill despite the warmth of the room. “So, why did they leave?”

“Some left to be with their families. Others... gave up.” He didn’t elaborate, but the weight of his words hung in the air.

“Gave up?”

“Losing hope in a place like this can be worse than the infection itself,” he admitted quietly, focusing on drawing her blood. “When you’re faced with the end of the world, not everyone can keep going.”

Delilah looked at Jenner, seeing the exhaustion etched into his features. “How do you keep going?”

He didn’t answer immediately, finishing up and placing a bandage on her arm. “I keep going because I have to. Because if I don’t, then all those people who gave up did so for nothing.”

She watched as he packed up his kit. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Jenner nodded, pausing at the door. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As he left, Delilah felt the weight of his words settle over her. She lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The world outside was falling apart, but in here, they had a chance. It wasn’t much, but it was something to hold onto.

She decided to join the group in the cafeteria, smiling at the sight of such a peaceful, almost normal scene. "Have you been here for long?" she asked, noticing Glenn struggling to contain his laughter and maintain a serious demeanor.

The boy handed her a glass of red wine, and Delilah thanked him, wetting her lips with the intense red liquid. "Can I try?" She almost spat out the wine when she heard Carl's question, and after briefly glancing at her mother, she passed him the glass.

The table fell silent as everyone watched the boy take a sip of the wine, grimacing in disgust as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. They all burst into laughter, and Delilah hugged her little brother, tousling his hair. "You're a big boy now."

"Come on! Leave me alone," Carl tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she didn't let him go.

The two siblings began to playfully wrestle, ending up on the floor with Delilah on top of Carl, pinning his limbs and tickling him. The boy turned red from laughter and the effort of trying to flip his sister over, but to no avail.

"I surrender! I surrender!" Carl shouted, waving the white flag, and Delilah got up, giving him a hand to stand. When the group started applauding, she took a bow before sitting down again to fill her stomach that she had emptied earlier.

During dinner, as it started to get late, the group began to disperse to retire to their rooms for a good night's sleep. Carol took the opportunity to take Sophia and Carl to a room resembling a library to read them a book before bedtime.

Even Rick and Jenner stepped away from the banquet to discuss what Delilah presumed was their overnight arrangements. When her mother left to follow Carol, she frowned upon seeing Shane, a little tipsy, following shortly after.

She started to get up, but Glenn's hand pulled her back into her seat, making her smile at his tipsy appearance. A faint smile was present on his features, his head slightly tilted to the side, the bottle of red wine in his hand.

"Stay here," he slurred.

Daryl, on the other side of the table, chuckled, catching Delilah's attention as she turned, unaware of his presence. She thought she was alone with the Asian boy. "Good luck with that," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" Both struggled to understand what he was saying, as alcohol muddled his words and made it nearly impossible to comprehend. Delilah chuckled, getting up and offering him an arm. "Let's go, Glenn, let's get you to your room."

"Oh, and then you'll stay with me?" The suggestive comment made Delilah pause in her tracks, supporting him with one arm and giving him a light smack on the back of his head. "Ow!"

"You're drunk, Glenn, watch what you say," she scolded, pulling him away from the wall he had leaned on.

The boy followed her, leaning on her for support when his head spun too much. In no time, they found themselves in front of his quarters, a few doors down from hers. “Where’s your key?”

“Uh…” The boy let go of her arm and began patting his pants pockets until he found it, smiling and holding the keys up to her eyes. “Ta-da!”

Glen struggled to insert the key into the door, his hand wavering left and right due to his state. The girl had to stifle her laughter when she had to catch him as he leaned against the open door.

“You’re really wasted,” she said, struggling to carry him to the bed and throwing him onto it with all the strength she could muster. She turned to leave, feeling the alcohol she had drunk beginning to get to her. “Goodnight, Glenn.”

“Wait,” he tried to sit up but sank back down when dizziness overcame him. “Stay, please?”

Delilah turned to look at him, searching his eyes for any sign of malice, but saw only a boy around her age, alone and scared. She closed the door and sat beside him, gently stroking his shoulder. “Are you okay, Glenn?”

The boy slid to the floor, leaning against the mattress, and Delilah followed, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. The atmosphere between them had shifted dramatically; the lightheartedness and carefree attitude from a few minutes ago had been replaced by the heavy weight of their reality.

“I don’t know…how to feel,” Glenn said, staring at the wall in front of them. “I can’t stop wondering how my family is, if they’re okay. If they’re alive.”

Delilah didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t the best at comforting others, especially someone she didn’t have a close bond with. She rested her head against his, hoping the silence wouldn’t be too oppressive for him.

“Everything will be alright, Glenn, I promise,” she said. But what Delilah didn’t know was that not everything would be alright. They would face many obstacles on their journey, and not all of them would leave them unscathed.

[tea-and-secrets]

My friends (we all go to the same uni btw) started dating a little while ago and I’m happy for them, but it feels like I’ve become less important to them. I understand they have to keep their relationship a secret since they’re queer, so they have it do things under the guise of being “friends”. but I’m a bit tired of them leaving me out of shit that isn’t just exclusively romantic, it’s just that I could have been part of but they just don’t bother to check to see if I want/can. They live together/share most of their classes/work together so they can go off and do whatever but can I not just have a couple hours with you guys? I love you guys. I can’t be myself with anybody else.

There’s been so many instances of them straight up not including me in things because they didn’t “know my schedule” because admittedly it’s a little weird but I’ve sent it to them over and over again and explained it to them and they literally never ask me if they’re not sure. They just leave me out. Sure, they can be making genuine mistakes but they never bothered to actually go and prevent it from happening again. They claimed they’d do better this semester, at least.

I don’t expect to be with them 24/7. I don’t expect to be more important than their relationship but goddamn… Initially we were talking about getting an apartment together (while they were dating, mind you) and I really wanted to but I couldn’t at the moment due to life shit. It still seemed like they had intentions of having a third but now it’s obvious they don’t even want me to move in with them because they talk about me getting a SEPARATE apartment now as if that’s actually affordable.

I can’t even spend the night there because guests are part of their trauma and if I even spend the night there it’s scary and changed their routine. I understand that part to a degree, like one of them had a lot of bad instances with their family having horrid guests… but I’m their friend. I was going to live with you guys!!! I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE SAFE!! Why am I suddenly the same as a random fucker bumming their couch? They say if it’s an emergency or if I really really need them I can go there but?? Now it just makes me feel like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience unless it’s important enough to them.

It just fucking sucks because my life is getting really fucking miserable and I’m just wanting to be myself and get away from my sexual abuser for good once school is over and they can’t even handle the thought of me being there for a night. I now know I WOULD be a burden to them if anything happens and they can’t deny it.

The only times I get to truly interact with them is if I ask them for something or do something special with them which makes me feel like they’re going to start thinking I take advantage of them for entertainment or whatever. I have to hunt for them or ask where they are in the hopes of seeing them on campus. I just want to be included :(

They’re so kind when they’re aware of me but so, so clueless so it ends up making them do things like this. The lack of self awareness just end up making me feel worse and worse. It’s the worst knowing people who are just too unaware of how they’re slowly cutting you off or leaving you behind. “I don’t know how people just drift apart, it sounds sad” well. It’s really not that hard. You just stop caring or find something else that matters more to you. It’s really not intentional. But it sucks. I don’t even know how to tell them this or if my feelings are even right.

I don’t know how to end this but it’s really nuanced, more than I can express in this, I just don’t want to accidentally say too much and give myself away. I’m so tired. I’m trying to be a good friend but it’s getting more and more confusing as to what that entails.

.

[witty--fool]

Bad Trip

Summary: Mary-Anne's experiment with Jet, inspired by Hancock's routine, spirals out of control. With Hancock's support, she rides out the intense highs and lows of the drug's effects.

Rating: M, drug use, bad trip

Pairing: John Hancock/Sole survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole survivor

Tags: Soft Hancock, Sweet Hancock, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,153

Ao3 Link

Mary-Anne watched Hancock from across the room as he prepared a dose of Jet. She had been curious about the chem for a while, wondering what made it so alluring and why Hancock relied on it. Tonight, she finally mustered the courage to try it herself. She felt safer knowing he was nearby, just in case something went wrong.

Hancock inhaled his dose, his eyes closing briefly as the chem took effect. He overdramatically cracked his back just as a drifter called out for him in another room. 

“Be back in a second, sunshine. Gotta do some mayoral shit.” He said as he swaggered into the next room with a “Yeah, yeah I’m comin’”

Mary-Anne walked over to the pile of unused Jet containers, studying them, her feet scraping against the used ones that littered the floor. She picked up one of the inhalers, usually, Hancock took more than one. He’d down one all in one inhale, and then another, and another.

Best to start with one, Mary-Anne thought as she picked up a full inhaler of Jet. She held it to her lips and inhaled. She tried to mimic how Hancock did it–all in one inhale, but she choked near the end. Taking the now empty container away from her mouth and coughing hard.

As she wiped her mouth and blinked away the tears from coughing, a warm, euphoric sensation began to wash over her. The world slowed down, the room seemed brighter, the colors more vivid, and everything felt intensely pleasant. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft, contented sigh as she swayed slightly, feeling weightless and free.

The euphoria was intoxicating. Mary-Anne felt a rush of energy and happiness, her mind racing with a thousand wonderful thoughts. She wandered into the room where Hancock had gone, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Hey, Johnny," she giggled, "I think I understand now why you like this so much."

Hancock turned to see her, his eyes widening in surprise and concern. "Mary, what did you do?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.

Before she could respond, her expression began to change. The initial rush of euphoria started to wane, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. Her heart rate skyrocketed, and the vibrant colors turned harsh and overwhelming. The room seemed to close in on her, and she felt a wave of panic.

Hancock moved quickly, reaching out to steady her. "Hey, hey, it’s alright. Come here, sunshine," he said, guiding her over to the couch. He held her close, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of her trip.

“How much did you take?” He asked, gently.

“What” she began, struggling to talk, “What you start with…”

Hancock's eyes widened in alarm. "Sunshine, my usual dose is way too much for a first-timer," he said gently, his concern deepening.

Mary-Anne's breathing quickened as the effects of the Jet surged through her. "I... I didn't know," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I thought I could handle it." Mary-Anne was gasping for air, her words coming out in short, panicked bursts. "Thought it was like Psycho… or Mentats."

Hancock shook his head gently, his expression a mix of concern and tenderness. "Jet hits different, sunshine. It's a whole other beast."

Her vision blurred, the room seeming to pulse and shift around her. She clung to Hancock, her anchor in the storm. "I didn't know…"

He stroked her hair, his touch a soothing contrast to the chaos in her mind. "I got you," he reassured her. "Just focus on me. Breathe with me."

She tried to match her breathing to his, the slow, steady rhythm helping to ground her. Hancock's voice was a constant, calming presence. "In and out, Mary. Nice and slow."

Mary-Anne’s breathing was rapid and shallow, her eyes wide with fear. "John, it’s...it’s too much. I can’t...I can’t handle it," she whimpered.

Hancock cradled her against his chest, his voice soft and soothing. "I know, baby. I know. Just breathe. We’ll get through this together.”

Mary-Anne was shaking uncontrollably, her body wracked with tremors as Hancock wrapped her tightly in his arms, trying to steady her. "Fahrenheit!" he barked, his voice filled with urgency. "Get in here!"

Within seconds, Fahrenheit burst into the room, her eyes wide with concern. "What's going on, boss?"

"She took too much Jet," Hancock explained quickly. "Go get some Addictol, now!"

Fahrenheit nodded and sprinted out of the room. Hancock turned his attention back to Mary-Anne, his fingers gently stroking her hair. "You're gonna be okay, sunshine. Just hang on, Jet passes fast."

She nodded weakly, trying to focus on his voice and the steady rhythm of his breathing. He kept murmuring reassurances, his voice a lifeline in the storm of her panic. Minutes felt like hours as they waited for Fahrenheit to return.

“I-I’m sorry” she choked out

"Shh, it's okay," Hancock reassured her, brushing her hair back gently. "We're gonna get you through this."

Finally, Fahrenheit rushed back in, a canister of Addictol in her hands. Hancock quickly took it and held it to Mary-Anne's lips. "This isn't gonna stop it," he said gently, "but it'll keep you from feeling a whole hell of a lot worse when this is all over."

Mary-Anne nodded weakly, accepting the dose. As the Addictol began to take effect, the edge of panic started to dull, but the overwhelming sensations remained. She focused on Hancock's steady presence, his arms around her providing the only sense of stability she could find.

"Just hang in there," Hancock murmured, kissing her forehead. "You're gonna be okay."

"You're doing great, sunshine. Just keep focusing on me," he whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead again.

As the worst of the trip slowly ebbed away, Mary-Anne clung to Hancock, "Thank you, John," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Anytime, sunshine. I'm here for you, always," he replied, his voice full of warmth and relief, “Just, don’t do that next time. Don’t take anything without me around, ok?” he said, gently.

“Ok…” she murmured, her eyes becoming heavy

Eventually, the storm finally passed, leaving her feeling drained but more in control. Hancock kissed her forehead, his relief palpable. "Just rest now," he murmured.

Hancock held her close, his presence a comforting anchor as the night wore on. He never once let go, whispering reassurances until she finally drifted off to sleep. The experience had been terrifying, but it had also shown her the depths of Hancock's care and concern for her.

As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, Hancock looked down at Mary-Anne, his heart aching with a mix of love and worry. "You're safe now," he whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead.

Mary-Anne stirred slightly, her breathing steady and calm. She had learned a valuable lesson about the dangers of chems, but more importantly, she had seen just how much Hancock cared for her. 

[ohitshoneybee]

Don’t Fear the Reaper

Chapter 4

Movie!William Afton x OC

Series Content Warnings: SUBJECT TO CHANGE AT ANY TIME, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, murder, MASSIVE age gap (it’s like 30 years), smut, like, a lot of smut, much more to come i’m sure

Chapter Content Warnings: 18+ MINORS STAY AWAY FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, praise kink, fingering, dacryphilia (if you squint. kinda.), oral (f receiving), homegirl sees god in this chapter, overstimulation, swearing (thats the least of our concerns rn)

As per usual, thank you to my beloved @bowersbubbles for beta reading and by far my favorite divider!

Clara sleeps all day when she gets home, ignoring the flashing voicemail button on her landline as she throws her bag on the table and falls into her bed, barely managing to kick her shoes off before getting comfortable. Her alarm goes off at 10 again, and she goes through the making and packing dinner routine before heading out again. It’s nicer out tonight, so she opts for a pair of jeans and a zip up hoodie layered over an ancient band t-shirt.

The drive is uneventful, and Freddy’s looks perfectly normal from the outside as Clara pulls up and parks, the full moon shining bright. The ‘being watched’ feeling is back and it’s making her nauseous, but she pushes on, chalking it up to pre-menstrual hormones or some shit.

Clara unlocks the door, not noticing the lack of resistance as she does. She goes to heave open the door and falls, scraping up her knee as she lands in a pile of shattered glass from one of the poster displays. She scrambles up and the adrenaline sets in as she takes in the entire mess inside - tables upside down, chairs knocked over, glass from the prize counter everywhere. She starts to tear up out of fear, not realizing just how badly she’s hurt.

Clara pulls up her recently called and clicks through to Steve’s number, dialing it without hesitation. The phone rings and she sniffles, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. It picks up on the third ring, and she barely gives him time to say anything.

“Hey, it-it’s me, it’s Clara, I need your help. There was a break in today and I just got in and there’s glass everywhere and- and I hurt myself and I don’t know what to do.” She sniffles again and cuts Steve off as he starts to talk.

“Oh fuck- oh my God, you were probably asleep, I’m so sorry. Just.. go back to bed. I-I can handle this.” Clara moves to hang up but he catches her. “Hey, woah, Clara, take a deep breath. Where are you right now? Go to the office, okay? Can you do that?” He’s obviously worried, and somewhere deep down, Clara appreciates it.

She sniffles and nods before realizing he can’t see her. “Yeah, I can get to the office..”

“Good, there’s a first aid kit in the locker. Do what you can, I’ll be there in 10.” “Oh, I’m- that- that really isn’t necessary, I just.. I think I panicked, is all. I’ll be okay.” She fumbles over her words for a moment. Steve chuckles, “I’m already on my way, Clara. I’ll be there in 10.”

The line dies. 

It’s closer to seven minutes before Steve shows up, and he doesn’t bother to knock or ring the buzzer. He makes his way straight to the office, and startles Clara as he opens the door. “Jesus Christ! Fuck, sorry.. I didn’t hear you come in..” Clara’s holding the flashlight like a weapon in one hand, her knee bandaged up and her free hand wrapped poorly with gauze.

“Clara.. I didn’t think it was that bad when you said you’d hurt yourself. C’mere, let me take a look.” Steve crosses the room to the small folding table with the first aid kit on it. He rifles through it for a second before pulling a chair out and motioning for Clara to sit down. “I’m not gonna hurt you, c’mon.”

Clara sits and starts unwrapping her hand, wincing at the sight of the gash spanning thumb to pinkie. “I.. I tripped on something and cut it on a piece of glass.. I think I got it all out.” Steve stares at her hand for a couple seconds too long before taking it in his and checking she really did get all the detritus out.

“You’re one tough cupcake, I’ll give you that. I don’t know many full grown men that would choose to dig glass out of an open wound, much less ask someone for help.” Steve starts wrapping her hand, making sure she can still wiggle her fingers. Claras face flushes pink as he talks, her eyes fixed firmly on her hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Raglan..” She’s quiet, still sniffling a little. 

Steve chuckles and finishes wrapping Clara's hand, shifting to kneel in front of her to take a look at her knee, the denim shredded. “Call me Steve. ‘Mr. Raglan’ makes me feel ancient.”

She laughs a little, her eyes fixed on his hands. Steve’s a good foot taller than she is, and that in and of itself gives Clara butterflies in her stomach. “So, Steve.. Do you have a wife? Is she gonna come after me for calling in the middle of the night?” She jokes, trying to break the silence. “No, no. I was married, once upon a time, but she passed.” He looks up at Clara and her face goes pink. “Oh- I’m so sorry, I didn’t know..” She’s mortified, frozen stiff in her seat. 

“It’s okay, really. It’s been long enough I’ve moved on.” Steve smiles at her and she nods, relaxing a bit. He’s got one hand on her thigh, the other on the outside of her knee, and Clara feels her heart skip a beat. She knows exactly what she’s feeling and it’s embarrassing. The images flashing through her head, the sounds, it’s enough to make her shift uncomfortably in the seat. “You’re in college, yeah? You have a boyfriend?” Steve asks, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Oh- well, that's.. It’s complicated. He’s not exactly the kind of boy you’d bring home for the holidays. Not that I do much going home anyway..” Clara trails on, her eyes locked on his hands as she speaks.

“A bad boy, huh? I never would have guessed.” 

Clara scoffs a little and nods, “Yeah, something like that.” 

They sit in silence together for a handful of seconds before Clara locks eyes with Steve, her stomach doing flips as his hands creep up her thighs ever so slightly. She acts before she can think rational thoughts, and cups his face with both of her hands and kisses him. 

Steve freezes as she does, caught entirely by surprise, and Clara's heart drops into her stomach as she pulls away and lets him go, her hands in her lap. “I-I’m so sorry- I don’t- I shouldn’t ha-” 

“Hey, Clara, it’s okay.” He sits back on his heels, putting Claras hands back on his face. “There’s something else you need help with too, isn’t there?” She nods, unable to will the words to come out. Her stomach’s in knots, and her face is warm to the touch. “Use your words, sweetheart.” Steve's hands drop back to her thighs and he smirks as he sees the gears turning in her head.

“I.. oh God .. You should go.” Clara moves to get up, but he stops her. “I’m not leaving until you get exactly what you want. We both know that little purple vibrator you have stashed underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, and your tool of a boyfriend is all but useless.” Steve’s voice is low, the dim lighting in the office making him that much more intimidating. His hands creep up her thighs to her waist, then to the button on her jeans. She squirms in her seat as he starts to undo them, letting out a desperate whine as he stops. “Sweetheart, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Tell me what you want.”

“I- Steve.. Fuck… I want you.. Please.” Clara whines and pouts, her chest already heaving with anticipation as she shifts forward in the chair.

Steve’s eyes light up and he wastes no time getting her jeans pulled off, her underwear pulled with them. He looks up at her as he dips a finger between her folds, just barely brushing her clit as Clara whines and drops her head back. “Music to my fucking ears..”

He kisses the inside of her thighs as he pushes them apart, her hands gripping the armrests of the chair. Steve brushes the pad of his finger over her clit again and she squirms, earning a low groan of approval from him. He repeats the motion over and over, admiring the way her body tenses at even the slightest touch. She’s babbling incoherently as he stops. Clara’s on the verge of tears, the stimulation simultaneously too much and not enough, her brain clouded with need.

“Steve- fuck- pleasepleaseplease just- oh God.. make me come, please..” She whines, her nails dug into her palms as she keeps herself from crying.

“Such a sweet melody..” Steve hums in appreciation before pulling Clara to the edge of the chair, draping one of her legs over his shoulder. “All you had to do was ask, sweet girl.” His beard tickles the inside of her thighs as he kisses a trail towards her cunt.

Steve starts devouring her with such fervor, like a starved man. He pushes one- two- almost three fingers in, and Clara gets hit with pleasure so suddenly, her hands are in Steves hair, tugging and pulling with every curl of his fingers. He groans, the hum reverberating through her core. It’s not long before Clara is clenching around his digits, practically seeing stars. Steve is relentless, continuing even after she’s come down from her high, the near constant barrage making her tear up. 

“S-Steve- fuck- please, I ca-an’t take anymore-” She hiccups as she cries and pushes him away, his glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. Steve sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, carefully nudging Claras knee off his shoulder. She catches her breath for a minute after Steve helps her redress, careful of her knee. 

“‘S your hand okay? And your knee? I uh.. I got a little carried away.” He’s leaning against the table, running a hand through his hair. Clara looks him in the eye for a moment and her face goes pink. “I’m okay..” She’s quiet, butterflies still churning in her stomach. “It really doesn’t seem like it, Clara.. Did I push a limit?” Steve pulls a chair over and sits in front of her, holding her hands. She shakes her head no and sniffles, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“I’m okay, really.. You should go, I��m sorry I called you so late.” Clara stands and nods towards the door, crossing her arms. Steve knows better than to push, so he leaves without complaint. What Clara doesn’t see is how Steve fucks his fist when he gets to his car, her begging and pleading playing on repeat in his head even as he drives home.

The rest of her night is spent cleaning the place up, careful to not hurt herself again.

[tofics]

Notes incoming! You have been warned! :D

What I liked about the beginning was that the routine they have down after two years is tangible.

As you go to look for the moisturizer you pretend he doesn’t borrow from your nightstand, you watch him from the corner of your eye. Even dressed down in his loose shirt and pajama pants, he seems tired, and tense.

Specifically the part "from the corner of your eye" made the scene very palpable to me. Observing your partner doing their evening routine and getting a feel for their mood. Even though Dean is clearly not doing well here, the fact that he gets to have that kind of intimacy with a partner made me all :")

“Sorry,” he says, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Just uh…not really in the mood.” You lift up the covers and glance down at the half-pitched tent in his pants with a raised brow. “You sure about that?” you ask.

^ Exactly my reaction when I read this, lol.

He glances back up at you, and finds you weeping. Your lower lip trembles. Guilt hits Dean harder between the ribs when he realizes what he’s been putting you through. What he’s still putting you through. He cups your cheek and wipes away a stray tear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says. You shake your head. “It’s not just that we can’t…it’s that I can’t help you,” you reply, with a tremble in your voice. “I can’t do anything.”

I don't know if it was intended or if I read into this, but when she says "It's not just that we can't...", despite the despair they're both going through, I had to laugh, specifically because "It's not just that we can't..." read as "I'm not just crying because we can't have sex" and that just made me crack up. With that in mind, going back to where she says that it's been a month since they last slept together and Dean going "God damn I sure have been putting my girl through a lot... she's not even getting laid" just added a layer of humor to this scene for me. Again, not sure if this was intended :D But even if it wasn't, I still like it, because handling crappy situations with a little bit humor can sometimes lighten the weight of it all a little. Anyway, I'm rambling, but I hope I did get my point across here. ALSO: I very very much felt her pain for not being able to help. Watching someone you love with all your heart suffer, knowing you can't do anything about it, really is a special kind of suffering on its own.

“I wish I could take this from you,” you confess. He sighs. “I don’t.”

Not Dean feeling sorry for putting his girlfriend through so much worrying and apologizing about it two seconds prior. I'm watching you, Winchester. You don't get to wish to lighten people's burden when you don't let them do the same for you!

Michael outta my friggin’ head, he thinks.

Yes. That is exactly how Dean would think that. 10/10 character representation. (You always write Dean so well.)

And the lights come back on. Sam and Dean’s eyes widen when they realize who they’re faced with.   “Dad?” Dean says incredulously.

Now this isn't related to your writing, but ever since watching that episode I had the idea of the reader originally being from the Walking Dead Universe and they just completely shit their pants because they've never seen a picture of Sam and Dean's dad before and now HOLY SHIT NEGAN IS RIGHT THERE IN THE BUNKER WITH THEM lol. Just the absolute chaos of the reader being like "GET THAT MAN AWAY FROM ME" and all three Winchesters being like 👀? Are u okay?

Lol anyway.

John chuckles. “Latina, huh?”  “Oh, yeah,” Dean grins.

“Nice,” his father nods with another short laugh. But it evens out into a certain smile. “How long’ve you two been together?” Dean mentally counts it back. You often calculate it from the first time he officially asked you out for a nice dinner here in town. He likes to count it from that very first night he finally got a taste of your sweet café con leche…in more ways than one. “Two years and some change. Almost three,” he says. John gives a low whistle. “Look at you,” he remarks. And he seems pleased, with a gleam in his eyes that warms Dean deep inside. “Good for you, son. Glad to see you’ve got someone to hold you down.”

:""""") For two reasons: a) Dean being in a happy relationship for almost 3 years b) John finding out his son's got a special someone *cries happy tears*

It’s a good thing you went grocery shopping yesterday, or else you’d be shit out of luck trying to put something together for dinner. There happened to be a sale going on in the seafood section, so you find that you have everything you need to make a Spanish paella. You get to chopping the onions, bell peppers, garlic, tomato, and parsley first before anything else. While that starts sautéing in the pan, you break out the chicken, shrimp, and mussels from their individually wrapped packages.

Girl. You made me HUNGRY. It's been too long since I had paella. It's been too long since I've been to SPAIN. I literally grunted reading this like "yes please onto my plate into my stomach now thank you very much"

On one hand, you’re so happy for Sam and Dean. And of course for Mary, who’s about to get her entire world flipped upside down. You have so many questions for John Winchester…but not all of them would be pleasant.

Y e s. Thank you. Exactly what I was thinking. Family reunion is great and all but sir. Can we talk about how you fucked these boys up? Like, Mr Winchester, sir, are you aware that your sons have massive daddy issues?

You shake your head. “I don’t know. From the point in time you can remember, with Sam in college. Or maybe further back…from when they were kids.” You try your best not to make it sound like a leading question, but you don’t think you’ve disguised it well enough. John stares back at you, as if the lines are now connecting in his mind.

I was holding my breath seeing how John would react. Here is this woman that he's just met questioning his parenting skills. Being yanked out of a timeline where Sam was still in school and Dean was still all "Yes sir, of course sir, right away sir" I wouldn't have been surprised if John was about to give her a piece of his mind.

He’s somehow both taken aback, and amused by that fact. Trust Dean to be with a woman who goes for the jugular.

I loved this bit so much. Perhaps John seeing some of his Mary in the reader? Ofc at that point (before the prequel) John never knew about Mary's hunting past but he still knows his wife's got fire inside of her and he can see that in the reader too. That was a special moment to me. John seeing his own son come after him in a perfectly healthy way :")

John surprises you by shaking his head, smiling. “That’s what I wanted to say to you.” You falter at that. Me? you think. Why would he want to thank me?

I need the reader and Dean to get their calendars out so we can collectively agree on a date where I put the two of them in a room with massive speakers which just repeats "You are good people who have done good things for the people in your life, you are deserving of all good things and must learn to accept gratitude when it is due and given" again and again :)

“Listen, I thought it might be better if the four of you have dinner together. I’ll just eat here in the kitchen,” you say. Dean’s brows furrow, but you try to explain before he can start protesting. “You don’t have a lot of time left with your dad. This is the first time you’re getting to be together with your family like this. I just want to make sure you get the most out of it.”

Too good for this world. Literally. Warmed my heart SO much. But also. Can she please realize that is part of Dean's family? Thank you.

“You being there doesn’t take anything away from me being with them,” he says sternly. “And you’re part of my family. Part of our family. I’m not gonna have you eating in here by yourself like you’re a leper or something. Come on.”

What I said. Ha. No but seriously. This show's Dean's love for the reader so much. Because she has a point. John's only here for a very short amount of time and this is a once-in-a-lifetime-chance that they'll never get again. And Dean's just like "Ummmmmh as far as I'm concerned my family consist of five people, thank you very much" and just :") When Dean loves, he loves BIG.

Michael still paces back and forth in his mind, but for now, Dean’s able to tune it out and focus on this moment, with you. 

🥹🥹🥹 ALL the feels. This was such a feel-good story, despite the sadness it contains. I loved every little piece of it. Hats off to you, again. Chefs kiss. We are a blessed fandom to have you.

A Wish to Build a Dream On

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

AN: Welcome back to the Espresso-verse! This is set in 14.13: “Lebanon,” of course, but chronologically in the storyverse, it sits between Show Me and In Bad Weather.

Song Inspo: The story title was inspired by “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” by Louis Armstrong, but the real song inspiration for this is “Come Back Down” by Lifehouse.

Word Count: 7k~

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Spiciness/smuttish, angst, hurt/comfort, hint of body insecurity, and feels. 

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Sometimes, even the mundane in a two-year relationship can become new. And not in a good way. 

You and Dean are getting ready for bed, taking turns brushing your teeth. When you’re done, he comes in behind you at the sink and starts up his routine.

As you go to look for the moisturizer you pretend he doesn’t borrow from your nightstand, you watch him from the corner of your eye. Even dressed down in his loose shirt and pajama pants, he seems tired, and tense.  

Maybe because he’s been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for an entire month. 

You know Dean hasn’t been sleeping well, if at all. Now, he seems to be anticipating another fitful night. It doesn’t sit well with you to see the tension in his shoulders, the lines around his eyes that aren’t from laughing.

You wait until he slips into his side of the bed. Then you turn over and sidle up against him. You prop your elbow against his pillow, so you can look down on him with a smile. His brows twitch upwards.

“Well, hey,” he says. His arm settles around your waist under the covers. You stroke his cheek.

“Hey,” you reply. Though you don’t ask him if he’s all right. You already know the answer. Instead, you dip down for a kiss.

At first it’s just a sweet meeting of lips. You part from him softly, letting your thumb drag back and forth across his prickly cheek. He breathes in deeply and allows himself to savor the touch.

You dive back in again for a deeper taste, finding minty freshness with your tongue. He hums in response. His hold tightens on your waist, while your fingers drift down his neck, down his chest over his shirt. And then, they slip under the worn-out waistband of his sweatpants.

He groans deep in his throat when you stroke up and down the full length of him with a practiced hand. His knee bends on reflex, and he sucks in a breath as pleasure stirs low inside him.

But he stops you, grabbing your wrist gently, but firm.

You break the kiss in confusion. Dean’s eyes are still closed, brows furrowed while he takes deep breaths, as if he’s trying to pull himself back together. Or maybe, maintain a level of self-control.

His green eyes open and find yours in apology.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Just uh…not really in the mood.”

You lift up the covers and glance down at the half-pitched tent in his pants with a raised brow.

“You sure about that?” you ask.

He stays quiet, which starts to make you suspicious. You let the covers drop and rest a hand on his chest, where his heart beats at a ticked-up pace.

“It’s been over a month, baby,” you point out. “I know there’s…a lot going on, but this isn’t like you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired,” he claims.

You can understand that, to an extent, but intuition tells you that there’s something deeper here. Beyond the lack of intimacy, you’ve been starting to realize just how distant your boyfriend has been with you, even after getting him back from Michael.

Dean doesn’t…touch you anymore. And not just in this bed. As a matter of fact, him holding you right now is some of the closest affection he’s given you in days.

Despite that thought, he actually surprises you by covering your hand on his chest and squeezing your fingers. Likely he’s seen the disappointment and concern across your face.

“Come on. You think I only want you around for sex?” he jokes. It gets you to smile, however slightly.

“Call it a perk of this little arrangement,” you say in a dry tone. 

“Ooh, an arrangement. Sounds kinky,” he quips, with a curve of his lips. 

You smirk and take back your hand from under his. Carding your fingers through his hair, you dip down and start to kiss his neck. 

“I miss you,” you whisper against his warm skin. “But I also want to help you take your mind off it all… Just let me distract you for a while.” 

His eyes briefly close as he lets out a shaky breath, but he stops you for real this time. He holds your cheek and guides you away. His rejection hurts, making your chest sting, but his eyes implore you to let him explain.

“That’s just it,” he says. “I can’t. I can’t risk it.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t lose control,” Dean says. His tone is laced with grit and strain. “Michael’s in there, rattling around. He’s either pacing all damn day, or pounding on the walls.”

Dean presses a hand between his eyes, as if that’ll stop the headache that’s already forming. It’s bad enough that the archangel was controlling him for so long, rooting deep in his head and opening every door and shady corner. Thoughts, memories, private moments.

Now, Dean doesn’t know how much Michael sees of the outside world. It’s another reason he’d rather not heed every desire he has to roll you underneath his body and fuck you deep into the mattress. It’s why he hasn’t let himself touch you as often as he wants, as he craves.

Because the truth is, he’s scared. Scared of what might happen if he gets too distracted.

“Sometimes I think I’m gonna lose my fucking mind,” he admits to you, his throat tightening.

He glances back up at you, and finds you weeping. Your lower lip trembles. Guilt hits Dean harder between the ribs when he realizes what he’s been putting you through. What he’s still putting you through. He cups your cheek and wipes away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says.

You shake your head. “It’s not just that we can’t…it’s that I can’t help you,” you reply, with a tremble in your voice. “I can’t do anything.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to you, but he knows what he can do. He wraps his arms more securely around you and pulls you against him. You rest your forehead in the crook of his neck and try to calm yourself by taking long, even breaths.

“I wish I could take this from you,” you confess.

He sighs. “I don’t.”

The next morning, Sam and Dean catch a lead on a fellow hunter who was killed by a supernatural artifacts dealer. They mean to track down the dealer.

Instead of going with them, you stay at the bunker and continue to research a way to extract and capture an archangel from a human host. 

Dean doesn’t question your decision; he’s grateful, but still feeling guilty about last night. And part of him doesn’t even know how to move forward with you right now. 

It’s just as well, because you’re not too sure of how to act around Dean either. Your heart breaks every time you look at him, and it was hard to even meet his eyes at breakfast this morning.

Mary is on a hunt nearby as well, but you don’t have the heart to join her when she calls you around noon. After you hang up with her, you realize that you’re feeling sorry for yourself, when the one who’s really suffering is Dean.

For a moment, you take a break from the old book in front of you. Your back is twinging from being hunched over in your research for hours on end in the library. You rub your eyes and let out a sigh, before you lift your gaze heavenward. You doubt your grandmother can hear you up there while she relives her greatest hits, but at this point, you’ll try anything.

Please, you think in Spanish, and even pray. Give me strength. Give him strength.

Sam and Dean return to the bunker after “taking care” of the scumbag dealer. They bring back a number of artifacts, which you’ll have to help them sort through. They pile it all onto the War Room table. 

But they show you one item in particular: the Baozhu, one of eight ancient Chinese treasures. In other words, it’s a pearl that grants your heart’s desire.

Now, in general, you tend to be wary about hoodoo, but Sam has already convinced Dean that it could work. He could wish Michael gone.

They’re both so earnest that you’re willing to go along with it…and let Dean give it a try.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call Mom?” Sam asks him. “Or wait for Cas?”

“No,” Dean replies. “If this mojo works, great. If it doesn’t, then why get their hopes up?”

You agree with that point. In fact, you almost wish you could be Mary or Castiel right now.

Dean notes the look on your face, and he knows you well enough to read what you might be thinking. He turns his attention back to the pearl with determination.

He takes the pouch from Sam’s hand and doesn’t know what to do with it at first, but after little coaching from Sam, Dean takes the pearl in his hand, closes his eyes, and concentrates on his “heart’s desire.”

Michael outta my friggin’ head, he thinks.

The lights in the bunker start to flicker. You and Sam look up in wariness as the magic from the wish knocks out the electricity for a moment, casting the room into darkness mixed with a red glow from the emergency lights.

Sam turns when he spots a shrouded figure out of the corner of his eye—almost as tall as him, a large threatening frame. Sam swings a punch, but the intruder bats at his stomach, then his face with what looks like a crowbar. He goes down hard.

Just as you turn your head, Dean steps in next and gets an elbow to the chin for his trouble, then a swift kick in the stomach that sends him across the room with Sam. The intruder wracks his crowbar, which as it turns out, is actually a shotgun.

“Don’t you move,” he says.

He must not have seen you in the dark. It gives you the opportunity to come up behind him with one of the emergency handguns Dean had taped under the table for exactly this purpose. You tuck the safety back with a click.

“Drop it,” you demand.

The man pauses. He knows you’re there, but he doesn’t yet lower his weapon.

And the lights come back on.

Sam and Dean’s eyes widen when they realize who they’re faced with.  

“Dad?” Dean says incredulously.

John Winchester is just as confused to be in the bunker as his sons are to see him alive, and in the bunker. For John, he thinks it’s 2003. Sam should be at school in Palo Alto, while John’s been hunting with Dean.

John is understandably shocked when Sam tells him that sixteen years have passed.

“I think we summoned you,” Sam says, after he and Dean pick themselves up from the ground.

John takes a beat to try and process, but he has too many questions.

“You boys better tell me what’s going on right now,” he says. Though he turns and notices you after you slip your gun back into the waistband of your jeans and draw closer to Dean, laying a hand on his arm. A subtle look passes between you two.

You good? yours says.

I think so, Dean’s replies. The exchange doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And you are?” John asks. His gaze is focused on you, and the directness of his tone somewhat takes you by surprise. You never thought you would meet John Winchester.

But after you tell him your name, Dean rests a hand at the small of your back.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he says.

Intrigue sparks in John’s eyes, and he nods in response. His mind is probably buzzing with too much information to levy any kind of politeness your way, but it still leaves a tense, awkward atmosphere in its wake.

Sam tries to bridge it by suggesting you all sit at the long table in the War Room to go over what John’s missed. He agrees, though he requests a strong drink first.

Explaining what’s really happening to the older, yet still incredibly spry hunter takes a while. You all do it with a bottle of Jack Daniels split four ways.

“So, you saved the world?” John asks. His whiskey glass is in his hands, and he raises a finger in a “So you mean to tell me” gesture.

“More than once,” Dean admits.

“Then it’s all true. God, the Devil, you boys smack in the middle,” John says. You can see him working through all this, but also with fatherly pride coming through. It would make you smile, if this situation wasn’t so goddamn weird.

“Now you all live in a secret bunker with an angel and Lucifer’s kid,” he continues, and this time, he includes you in his gaze. All you can do is nod with a feeble smile.

Sam and Dean also confirm his summary.

“And you’ve done this whole…time travel thing before?” he asks.

“A few times,” Dean nods. “Actually, our grandfather, your dad…he’s the one that helped us find this place. I think he’d be real happy to know you’re finally here.”

Dean has told you about Henry Winchester, and how John had thought the man abandoned him when he was a child. But now, he seems to understand.

“Right, Man a’ Letters,” he nods.

“Yeah, we’re uh, we’re legacies,” Sam says, giving his father a smile. “Because of you.”

John has to smile back.

The three of them continue to talk for a while, and you mostly keep to yourself. Truth be told, you’re feeling a bit out of place in this moment.

The John you’ve heard stories about is a gruff ex-marine with a “give ‘em hell” attitude. This man has a solid presence, and a gruff voice not unlike Dean’s, but all you see in him is both pride and wonder at everything his sons are telling him about this world he’s been thrust into.

After a little while more, Sam realizes he needs to call someone immediately: his mother.

John’s face falls into shock.

“Mary?” he says. His disbelieving eyes become tinged with hope. “She’s…she’s alive?”

Dean shares a quick look with Sam, who heads out of the room quick to find his phone.

“Yeah, Dad. It’s a long story, but uh…she’s back too,” Dean says, smiling. “Wait ‘til she sees you.”

John’s brows furrow. He looks down at his hands on the table, fighting emotion. You can’t help but feel for him. You notice the empty bottle of whiskey, and without meaning to, you fall into “caretaker mode.”

“Uh, John, you want some water? Or maybe a beer?” you ask, as you start to get up from your seat. Dean looks up at you with a measure of bemusement.

“Beer would be good, thanks,” John says, giving you a small, but sincere smile. Somehow that unbalances you even more, though you smile back.

“Okay, and while I’m at it I think I’d better start dinner,” you say. Mary doesn’t cook, really. Sam is a lost cause too. (The man can barely boil an egg.) So it’s often up to you and Dean to handle the food in this house…bunker…whatever.

Dean disrupts your thoughts by grasping your hand, hoping it’ll steady you.

“You don’t have to, baby,” he says. You perk up with a more genuine smile.

“Oh, I want to! Besides, you guys should keep talking. Catch up,” you say, gesturing between father and son. You squeeze Dean’s hand, then make your quick escape.  

Dean smirks and watches you go. John follows his son’s gaze, then looks back at him in amusement. 

“She a good cook?” he asks. 

Dean raises his brows. “Oh, just you wait. She makes this beef stew thing, ropa vieja? Ridiculous. And a pork roast like you wouldn’t friggin’ believe.”

John chuckles. “Latina, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Dean grins.  

“Nice,” his father nods with another short laugh. But it evens out into a certain smile. “How long’ve you two been together?”

Dean mentally counts it back. You often calculate it from the first time he officially asked you out for a nice dinner here in town. He likes to count it from that very first night he finally got a taste of your sweet café con leche…in more ways than one.

“Two years and some change. Almost three,” he says. John gives a low whistle.

“Look at you,” he remarks. And he seems pleased, with a gleam in his eyes that warms Dean deep inside. “Good for you, son. Glad to see you’ve got someone to hold you down.”

Dean sobers at that. He glances down at his empty glass of whiskey.

“Yeah,” he says. “You don’t know how much.”

It’s a good thing you went grocery shopping yesterday, or else you’d be shit out of luck trying to put something together for dinner. There happened to be a sale going on in the seafood section, so you find that you have everything you need to make a Spanish paella.

You get to chopping the onions, bell peppers, garlic, tomato, and parsley first before anything else. While that starts sautéing in the pan, you break out the chicken, shrimp, and mussels from their individually wrapped packages.

You continue according to the recipe you have in your mind’s eye—the one your grandma instilled in you. She’d learned it from her half-Spanish mother when she was a kid.

Cooking is one of those things that allows you to reset your mind. It’s like how Dean is when he sits down to tune up his car, or Sam when he reads a new book. You can just zero in and focus on the task at hand, and it allows you to put the rest of the chaos out of your head for a while. Plus, you just like feeding people.

Sometimes though, the task of whipping up a hot meal just gives you time to think. And right about now, you’re still reeling.

On one hand, you’re so happy for Sam and Dean. And of course for Mary, who’s about to get her entire world flipped upside down. You have so many questions for John Winchester…but not all of them would be pleasant.

You have to try to push that part down, for Dean’s sake. He’s just gotten his father back. He doesn’t need you adding even more onto his load.

There’s a knock on the open door of the kitchen that pulls you out of your thoughts. You raise your head and look over your shoulder. John is there with an empty beer bottle, which he raises in greeting.

You give him a small smile. “Hope you’re getting hungry.”

“With that smell, who wouldn’t?” he says, drawing near enough to lean against the counter next to you. He answers your unspoken question. “Dean’s lookin’ for some pictures to show me.”

You nod at that. “Yeah, he has a few good ones, and some are new. I’m sure you’ll like to see them.”

John nods and regards you with curiosity. He wants to know more about the woman in his son’s life, but he’s not too sure where to start.

“So you’re a hunter too?” he asks.

“Yep. Not for as long as Dean, but long enough,” you reply. It’s tinged with the knowledge that no hunter should’ve been as young as Dean when they started, but you keep that thought deep inside.

“How’d you two meet?” John asks.

Your lips twitch at a smile. You tell him the story of how you’d met Dean at a dirty bar in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Dean hadn’t realized you were a hunter at first when he watched you hustle some guy at pool.

He set you in his sights, flirted with you, and you probably would’ve let him take it further if you hadn’t stunned him with the knowledge that you, Sam, and Dean happened to be in town working the same case. From that day on, the three of you had become allies and friends.

You and Dean just hadn’t become you and Dean for a long time after that. Too long, if you were honest. But, it’s all worked out so far. This is the longest relationship both of you have been in, pretty much ever.

There’s a lull of silence that falls between you and John after you finish the story. It’s not altogether comfortable, and he realizes that when he watches you putter about the kitchen while you cook. You’re trying to busy yourself.

“This must be one hell of a strange day for you,” he says.

Your head perks up, and you have to smile wryly. “Our lives are built on strange.”

John’s chuckle concedes your point. But you look over at him thoughtfully and set down your wooden spoon.

“Could I, um…could I ask you something?” you ask.

He nods at you. “Sure.”

Maybe you shouldn’t, but you really can’t help yourself.

“We don’t know each other well,” you begin. “But, knowing what you know now, about Sam and Dean and everything they’ve gone through… If you could go back, would you change anything?”

John tilts his head at you, like he’s trying to read through the lines in your words. It reminds you of Sam.

“You mean, would I do things differently?” he asks. “From what point?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. From the point in time you can remember, with Sam in college. Or maybe further back…from when they were kids.”

You try your best not to make it sound like a leading question, but you don’t think you’ve disguised it well enough. John stares back at you, as if the lines are now connecting in his mind.

He sees you're well-meaning. Despite your best efforts though, he knows you're accusing him of something. And he thinks you have some audacity.

He's somehow both taken aback, and amused by that fact. Trust Dean to be with a woman who goes for the jugular.

“Because you’ve been straight shootin’ with me, I guess I’ll shoot straight with you,” John replies. He sighs and wipes a hand over his bearded mouth, like you’ve seen Dean do at times when he’s tired, or anxious.

“A good part of me believes I did the best I could,” he says.

Your gaze falls; you don’t want him to see your real thoughts in your eyes.

“But,” he says, “If you're asking if I have regrets? ...Then you'd be right.”

You consider him then, for a moment. You find that you believe him. You begin to soften.

“Well, that’s something we have in common,” you reply. “But Sam and Dean are the best men I’ve ever known… So thank you.”

And you mean that. You are grateful for both of them. They became your family when you thought you had no one left.

John surprises you by shaking his head, smiling. “That’s what I wanted to say to you.”

You falter at that.

Me? you think. Why would he want to thank me?

Before you can truly digest his words, Dean comes into the kitchen, both to check on you and bring his dad the pictures he keeps in his nightstand. While he looks through them, John surreptitiously watches you and his son. 

Dean sidles up behind you and rests a hand along your hip. He peeks over your shoulder at what you’re cooking. You open the lid on the big pan of rice, chicken, and seafood, and he hums in delight at the smell of saffron that hits him.

“What’s that, paella?” he asks.

You give him an impressed look. “Very good. Here, it’s not quite ready yet, but try a bit.”

You put a shrimp and a bit of rice on the wooden spoon and raise it to his lips. Dean smiles and takes the proffered bite. He then moans in appreciation.

“Oh, that’s good,” he praises with his mouth full. “A bit spicy.”

“You like that though,” you tease.

Dean eyes you, and he chuckles. “Yeah, I do actually.”

John smiles to himself, both at the pictures of his boys throughout the years he missed, and at the glimpse he gets to see now.

You turn to him with another spoonful held out. “Want to try some, John?”

He obliges you by coming over and taking the spoon from your hand. He takes the bite, and his brows shoot up.

“Oh man, that’s got some kick to it,” he says.

“Too much?” you ask.

“Nah, it’s real good.”

Dean grins, but it soon dims as he realizes something.

“Ooh, what about dessert?” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Do we have anything?”

“Nope,” you reply. “Either we pick something up, or…I could make a flan.”

Dean’s grin kicks back in, full force. If there's one thing he's come to love in this world besides pie, it's your flan.

“But! For that I’ll need more ingredients,” you say, holding down a laugh at the look on your man’s face.

“Say no more,” he replies. “I’ll go on a grocery run. Just tell me what you need.”

You’re about to respond when a door creaks open down the hall. Mary hastens into the kitchen with Sam on her heels. When she sees her husband, her face falls into shock.

“John,” she breathes.

John's amusement gradually melts away, into watery-eyed emotion.

“My girl,” he says.

The two meet each other in the middle of the room. He holds her face, and she grips the front of his shirt with desperation. Their kiss is beautiful and tender…and then it’s more.

You and Dean share a wide-eyed look with Sam. The three of you quickly tip out of the room to the sounds of soft moans in your wake.  

“Wow. I mean, this is crazy right?” Dean says. He gesticulates wildly with his hands as the three of you make your way down the hall. “The way they just…connected, like magnets.”

You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“Your parents are about to have a lot of reunion sex,” you tease. 

Both Sam and Dean grimace. Dean has a full body shiver and gives you a look.

“Thank you for that,” he says wryly. 

You laugh and try to soothe him with a hand down his arm, but he playfully shakes his head at you. You have mercy on the brothers and manage to stifle your laughter.

“Okay, so, dessert,” you say.

“Well, since you’re so graciously being our chef for tonight, you just relax,” Dean says. “Sam and I’ll go make a run. You just tell me what you need.”

You pause in the hallway and give a hum of suspicion. You’re not sure you trust him to get the right stuff. The last time you asked him to get very specific ingredients from the store, he did not, in fact, bring you what you needed. (Somehow, he thought regular garlic powder was the same as Adobo seasoning.)

He clocks that look of yours and rolls his eyes. “Come on, really? What am I, five years old? Just give me a list.”

You relent with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll text it to you. But if you need me to send you pictures of anything, just let me know.”

Dean’s lips kick up into a smirk. He leans in for a parting kiss on your cheek, but it’s just an excuse to whisper in your ear.

“Well, I’ll never say no to some pics,” he says. “Nudes, preferably.” 

He then laughs at your rosy blush and raised brows. Now you know he’s in a better mood.

“Just hurry up,” you reply, shaking your head. He keeps chuckling as he passes by you. A smile curves your lips, and you give into the urge to smack his ass on his way up the stairs.

Sam just sighs in amused resignation. He raises a hand to you in goodbye and follows his brother up to the garage. 

Once they’re in the car, Sam finally unloads what he’s been holding onto all afternoon.

“Dean, how did this happen?”

“I mean, I don’t know. You said that the pearl gives you what your heart desires, right?” Dean says. “So, my heart desired… Look, I’ve wanted this, man. I’ve wanted this since I was four years old. Maybe having Mom back just brought it all back up.”

He’s not exactly sure how deep that “desire” was buried, but the pearl knew. Dean couldn’t believe how happy he was when he saw his dad again, got to tell him everything that he’d missed, getting to have him meet you. And seeing his dad with his mom again? Well, that was a child’s dream come true.

But Debbie Downer (AKA: his brother) looks concerned in the passenger seat.

“Okay, I know, and I love this too,” Sam says. “But messing with time—”

“No, no, no. Sam,” Dean says, raising a hand in protest as he drives.

“You know how this ends, Dean. Things change,” Sam tries to reason. Dean just shakes his head.

“Yeah, we got our family back together! I’ll take that change.”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Stop. Just stop,” Dean says, in a tone that bodes no argument. “Look, can we just have one family dinner? Just one? Us—all of us together? That’s all I want. Can you just give me that?”

Sam’s lips purse. He knows it’s useless to argue with Dean when he gets like this, but Sam just can’t help the uneasy churning in his gut. It warns him that the other shoe has yet to drop on this spell.

You’re checking on the food when Sam and Dean return from their trip. Except the way they come storming into the kitchen has you turning to them in alarm.

Dean grasps your arms and searches your face. His face is marred by fresh cuts and a bruise or two.

“You feeling all right?” he asks. “Do you think Sam is a turtleneck-wearing douchebag?”

“Dean, what?” you utter. You touch his bruised cheek lightly, wincing in sympathy when he does out of pain. “What happened?”

True to Sam’s gut, the wish changed more than bringing John Winchester back from 2003. They explain what they went through after getting the groceries you requested—namely getting attacked by Castiel and Zachariah at the local liquor store.

The latter of the two angels was supposed to be dead, while the other had no recollection of being friends with the Winchesters. Sam was supposed to be a hot-shot Steve Jobs wannabe lawyer, while Dean had his mugshot plastered all over town.

“I think it’s…a temporal paradox,” Sam says.

Now, you’re very alarmed.

“Are you kidding me?! What the hell are we gonna do?” you exclaim.

“About what?” John asks from the doorway. He’s no longer wearing his jacket, you notice, and his shirt is looking a bit rumpled and hastily buttoned at the top, but his gaze is serious, matching his sons.

After sharing another telling look, Dean takes the responsibility of explaining the situation to his father, while Sam goes to find his mother.

Dean and John go into the library to talk. He explains that pulling John out of his time is now making the current timeline self-correct. Meaning, everything and everyone is gradually adjusting to the change.

“Basically, uh, if you don’t go back,” Dean says. He hesitates on the words, but he forces himself to continue. “Sam never gets back into the life. And Mom, she…”

“What?” John asks.

“Well, without everything that we did, with God, the Darkness, Mom never comes back,” Dean explains, even though it’s killing him inside. “Sam thinks that she’ll just fade away.”

It hurts him still to see the understanding don on his dad’s face, along with a smile of resignation.

“Okay,” John agrees. “I mean, me versus your mom? That’s not even a choice.”

Dean nods at that, however belatedly.

“Dean…I never meant for this,” John says.

“Dad, we pulled you here—”

“No, son. My fight,” he says. He still thinks about his conversation with you earlier today. He thinks about how protective you seemed just by that question you asked—not just protective of Dean, but of Sam too.

“It was supposed to end with me, with Yellow Eyes,” John explains. “But now, you’re a grown man, and I am incredibly proud of you.”

Dean takes that in; he feels a rush of warmth deep in his heart, even though he doesn’t know what to say.

“You and your girl…you two planning on settling down someday? Having a family?” John asks.

Dean quirks a smile. You two haven’t talk about…that. Any of that. In between all the shit you all keep landing in, he’s somehow never had those conversations with you. Maybe he should.

But not now. Not until Michael’s gone and dealt with.

“I don’t know if we’re the settling type, but either way…I have a family,” Dean replies. He can say that honestly, with a soft smile that reaches his eyes.

John smiles back.

“All right,” he says. “Just think about it then.”

Dean once again finds you in the kitchen. You’ve gotten the plates, glasses, and silverware ready for dinner on the dining table.

“Hey, there’s only four plates on the table. We’re five,” Dean says.

You nod and close the oven back up. You’ve spent the past hour preparing the flan and just took it out of the oven. Hopefully it will have enough time to chill in the fridge.

You go to Dean and grasp the front of his gray flannel. In return, he holds you close by your arms.

“Listen, I thought it might be better if the four of you have dinner together. I’ll just eat here in the kitchen,” you say. Dean’s brows furrow, but you try to explain before he can start protesting. “You don’t have a lot of time left with your dad. This is the first time you’re getting to be together with your family like this. I just want to make sure you get the most out of it.”

Dean squeezes your arms and frowns down at you.

“You being there doesn’t take anything away from me being with them,” he says sternly. “And you’re part of my family. Part of our family. I’m not gonna have you eating in here by yourself like you’re a leper or something. Come on.”

He grabs your plate and the glass that you set aside on the counter, and he brings it to the table without letting you get a word in to stop him. You sigh, watching him go, but you also have to smile as the sting of tears burns in your eyes.

Dinner is awkward and dour at first. You all can’t help but think of what’s to come at the end of the night—ending the spell, and sending John back along with it.

But after John sets the tone, encouraging them to be grateful for this moment, and not dreading the inevitable end, everyone’s able to relax. The rest goes off without a hitch. 

While Sam and Dean are telling a childhood story, arguing about who’s version of the events were more accurate, you get up to grab the dessert from the fridge. 

You take out the pan of flan with both hands and go to bring it back to the table, but right in the doorway, you stumble to a stop as a wave of something washes over you. It prickles across your skin and feels a lot like magic.

The pan drops from between your hands and crashes to the floor. It startles everyone in the room.  

Dean calls your name in alarm. He’s the closest to you, and he gets up to steady you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“You okay?” he asks, trying to get you to meet his gaze. 

But when you do, he sees blankness behind your widened eyes. 

“Who are you?” you ask. You look around in both fear and confusion. “Where the hell am I?”

Dean’s throat constricts. "What do you mean? You live here. I'm..."

He searches your face for any hint of a joke, but he finds none. Trepidation grows inside him, and he realizes then what this is.

Another temporal shift, getting closer to the new timeline. One in which you and Dean are clearly strangers.

Somehow, he didn’t anticipate this.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” he says.

Your brows furrow as you take in the man in front of you. He’s certainly a sight to see, you think, but those broad shoulders, the cut of his jaw, those green eyes…they’re unfamiliar to you.

“Sorry, but…I feel like I’d remember you,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “Have we worked together or something?”

Dean’s lips press together. He gives you a meaningful look. “Sweetheart, we’ve done a lot more than that.”

Your brows raise, and you blush hotly at the thinly veiled innuendo in his deep voice. You take another quick scan of him, which he notes with a smile.

“Yeah, I uh, I doubt that,” you say, which drops his smile again. You curl a strand of hair behind your ear, like you’re embarrassed just by him scrutinizing your curvy form. Like you can’t believe he’s basically flirting with you.

That’s not the woman he knows. 

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. I have to figure out where the hell I am and how to get home,” you say. And you ease out of his hold and back away. 

Dean grabs your hand fast. “Uh, wait. Sorry, just…”

He raises a placating hand and glances back at Sam with a hidden thread of desperation in his eyes. His brother is shocked and disheartened, as are Mary and John.

“Okay. I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam, our parents, Mary and John,” Dean says, turning back to you. “I know this has gotta be weird as hell for you right now, but can you just…stay put for a bit, until I get this worked out?”

You give him an uneasy look. He’s holding your hand like he’s afraid to let you go. You don’t know this man at all, and yet he really seems to believe that he knows you. It doesn’t make any damn sense.

You shake your head. “Look, I have to go home.”

You try tugging your hand out of his, and Dean finally lets you go.

“Why, you got a boyfriend waiting or something?” he asks. He’s half teasing, and half serious. 

“No, um, family,” you admit. “My grandma’s probably waiting for me.” 

Dean’s expression slackens. In the right version of the timeline, you’re his girl. But your grandmother passed away a few years ago.

“Okay,” he wipes at his mouth with a hand. “Tell you what, it’s pretty late. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Deal?”

The truth is, he has no intention of letting you go any-damn-where, but he needs to buy them some time to break this spell. Then you’ll be back to normal.

Right now, you’re reluctant to trust him. Eventually though, you nod in agreement. Dean wastes no time in bringing you to the War Room, where he encourages you to take a seat.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he promises.

You nod a bit hesitantly, as you still treat him with dubious suspicion. It breaks his heart. He forces himself to turn away from you and return to the dining room.

Part of you can’t help but watch him leave. Those long legs and broad shoulders are a sight, you can admit, but this is all too much for you. You further take in your surroundings and also think this place is strange. No windows…what, are we in some WWII bunker?

And yet, Señor Green Eyes claimed that you live here. Your car, your keys, it all must still be here, you reason. 

So you wait until he’s all the way down the hall, and disappearing into another room. You get up out of your seat and start looking for your stuff—and a way out of here.

Meanwhile, Dean goes back into the dining room where Mary is already crying in John’s arms: for her eldest son, for her youngest, for her husband, and for herself. Dean’s eyes are red and stinging too. 

By now, Sam has gotten up from the table and has been waiting for his brother. He lays a supportive hand on Dean’s shoulder. When Dean meets his brother’s gaze, he sees the shine of heartbreak there too. 

“Let’s get this done,” John says.

Saying goodbye is the hardest thing. 

Somehow, though, they get through it. Dean reflects on how he never got to say it to his father the first time. He feels the worst for his mom, who gets her husband ripped away from her.

It’s not fair. In fact, it’s a cruel turn of the knife that he should’ve expected. Dean feels guilty just for making this goddamn wish.

John says goodbye to his wife first, then his sons. He pulls them both into a hug that Dean clings to. Again, he hears his father say that he’s proud of him and his brother. Dean hears him say that he loves them. 

“I love you too,” are the only words Dean can manage out, in a coarse whisper. 

But Sam is the one who has to make things right. He crushes the pearl. John slowly disappears in a haze of golden light. Tracks of tears are wet on all of their faces, but Dean is the first one who has to lock it all away. 

He remembers that you’re still waiting in the other room. 

Wiping at his eyes, he leaves Sam to comfort their mother and hurries out there, to the room where Dean left you…only to find your chair empty. 

A tendril of panic churns in his gut, but he has to remind himself that they’ve set things right. Even if you’ve run off, you can’t have gone far. 

He calls your name as he heads for the door to the garage. He picks up his keys and his phone to call you, but he stops at the foot of the stairs.

He sees you at the top of them, having dropped your duffel bag at your feet. Your name falls from his lips again.

You turn around and hold a hand to your head, with your brows furrowed in discomfort. Your gaze travels down to his.

“Dean?” you call out.

You head down the stairs, and Dean meets you there at the bottom. He pulls you into a tight, desperate hug. His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. Even though you’re still a bit confused, you hold him back to reassure him, and to steady yourself. 

“What happened?” you ask.

“We reversed the spell,” he confesses, after he finds his voice. “Had to send him back.”

Your hold becomes more comforting as your hand slides up the back of his neck. 

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry,” you whisper. You card your fingers through his hair. His hold on you tightens even more. You feel his deep, shuddering breaths. He’s trying to contain it all, to push it down. You wish he would allow himself to let it out. 

He presses his lips into your neck instead. 

“You okay?” he asks. Your cheek brushes his when you nod. 

“I’m fine, but…” You pull back enough to see his face. “Did I…forget you? Everyone?”

Dean’s lips press together.

“For a minute there,” he says, “but we got it all worked out.”

You let out a shaky sigh, and you tug him back into a warm hug that you both need. 

Mary prefers to be alone that night. You understand it, but you still apologize and give her a heartfelt embrace in the hallway outside her room. 

It takes her a moment, but she returns it. You start to realize that Winchesters are not a touchy-feely bunch by design. You can’t help yours though; you’re affectionate by nature. You just hope you haven’t overstepped.

Mary gives you a small, teary smile when you eventually pull away. She squeezes your hand before she says goodnight to you and her sons. 

You give Sam a parting hug as well. He rubs your back in a brotherly gesture. 

“Sorry about the whole temporary amnesia thing,” you quip. 

Sam shakes his head with a smile. “Just glad to have you back.”

After he lets you go, Dean thumps his brother on the back. He then heads down the hall without a word.

You and Sam share a look, in which you give him an unspoken promise: I’ll take care of him.

You follow after Dean, who trekked a well-worn path to your shared bedroom. He’s already at the sink, splashing water on his face. After drying himself with a small towel, he sighs and rests his hands on the corners of the sink.

After closing the bedroom door, you go over and slip your arms around him from behind. 

You rest your head against his back, and you both take in some deep breaths. Dean clasps a hand over yours on his chest. 

“I’m okay,” he says. 

“No, you’re not,” you tell him. “And that’s okay.”

Dean stays quiet. For a beat, he closes his eyes. He’s grateful for you. He’s still not sure why you put up with all the hellish shit that surrounds his life.

He turns in your arms so he can cup your cheek, smoothing his thumb across your skin. 

“You know how much I love you right now?” he says, even though his deep voice cracks. Tears well up in your eyes, but you smile and you nod. 

“Yeah, I do,” you reply, resting a hand on his chest. “I love you back.” 

He frames your face with his hands and bows his head to kiss you. It’s fraught and devouring, and a bit greedy. You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now, especially when his hands slip under your shirt and raise it over your head with practiced ease. In turn, you help him shrug out of the flannel and everything else.

You seat him down on the edge of the bed and stroke his face, his neck, his bare shoulders. His fingers press into your thick thighs as he encourages you to climb aboard, straddling his hips.  

Michael still paces back and forth in his mind, but for now, Dean’s able to tune it out and focus on this moment, with you. 

AN: This ended up being another long one. Lots of angst and feels, but I sincerely hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun with this chapter of the Espresso-verse. 💜

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "In Bad Weather." It acts as the finale of the Espresso-verse, though I'm still writing stories within the world to fill in the gaps when different prompts come to mind:

Summary: You and Dean tackle the biggest possible monkey wrench in your relationship yet: could Chuck have been manipulating you two all along? [Set in S15 - “Fix It” for season finale]

▶️ Next Story: In Bad Weather

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[j6611551155]

over?

I did something stupid today. I told my BF what I was feeling and thinking. His reaction was to get drunk. I’ve been sober 4 years now and I fucking feel like saying fuck it and drink. I’m not going to but I am so high on weed right now. I keep replaying today and how I started all this. I was angry that he didn’t text me back by 3 hours because this isn’t like him at all. In my head he was either dead or my think thinks he’s cheating. What I really think is that he gave his boss a blow job last night and got drunk. Why I think this is because his boss asked to hang out with him and my BF is very attracted to him. This isn’t really what bothers me, I really don’t care if he hooks up as long as its just that a hook up. There would also have to be rules like using condoms and now having FWB situation because my fear is he will kick me to the curve because I’m fucking crazy. I don’t know if he really fucks around but I get all these little hits and signs that he is. That main reason why I believe he cheats is because we don’t have sex. I mean a lot of the problem is me because ED due to behavior health meds that I take but still, I try ti initiate he always backs off. I try to touch him and be sexy with him, he backs off. We hardly ever kiss intimately like we use to. We are in this routine where we work and hang out here or go to the casino. We are boring but, again, a lot of that is due to me and my extreme social anxiety issues. You’re probably think, why the fuck is he even with you. Believe me, I think the same thing all the time, I am so lucky to have him. My life wouldn’t be here it is without him. I do thank him and let him know how much I appreciate him but I don’t feel like that is enough for all he’s done for me. I feel guilty a lot of the time in our relationship because he helps me out so much and I’m fucking crazy. I told him today that I wish he’s be more open with me about him and what’s going on. But he said he doesn’t tell me some things because I can’t handle it. He’s probably right but this is hurt our relationship more than helping. If he told me things that were going on,  maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. Maybe it will fuck me up but how the hell am I going to grow mentally if I don’t experience these fuck ups. I don’t know if that makes sense. I want to be apart of his life like he;s apart of mine. Also, him being secretive makes me think that he’s being shady. I think if we talk about it, we can have an open relationship but we have to fucking talk about this shit. He told me if I want to talk about this stuff I have to bring it up because he won’t. I told him that was fucked up and unfair because that puts all these hard conversation on me. If I am doing something to make him feel some type of way, I’d hope that he would tell me. If he thinks that I smoke too much weed , then he should tell me. I know that how he feels. I hate how I started this fight, but he reacted that way he did. Is this over? I don’t want it to be but if we can make some changes in our relationship then I think we should take a break. I can’t imagine my life without him now, I told him that I imagine us as old cat ladies. I’m praying this isn’t over. 

[lcandothisallday]

Jack and the reader being in a secret relationship but jack isn’t ready to tell anybody but the reader is because she’s tired of girls going up to jack and him flirting with them

Hurt - Jack Harlow x f!reader

*too lazy to edit so beware of errors lol*

When you moved to Lousville in your senior year of highschool, you never expected to fall in love. In fact, that was the last thing on your mind since you hoped to stay focused on your studies in preparation for university—but turned out, Jack Harlow was one persistent motherfucker.

“Come on Y/N!” Jack exclaimed as he chased you down the long school hallway, his hand reaching for your arm to stop you from walking away. The last bell finally rung and you were desperate to go home. “Why won’t you give me a chance?” he pouted, looking down at you adorably with his big bulky glasses and his curly hair pushed out of his eyes.

You let out a sigh as you stared up at him. You couldn’t deny that you thought he was cute…but he was the popular guy in school. Of course you thought this was some sick joke.“Jack…just drop it—”

“No! Tell me why first!” he insisted. “If you don’t like me or-or if you think I’m ugly then just say that! I can handle rejection.”

Upon hearing that, your eyes widened. “What? No! Of course I don’t think you’re ugly…I just…why me?” you ask with furrowed brows. “Guys don’t usually like me,” you sigh. “Plus I know guys like you. You’re a player. Only intrigued now because I’m new but when I give in you’ll use me then throw me to the curb for the next girl…that’s why I don’t wanna give you a chance.”

Jack licked his lips, his hands rubbing down his smooth face. “Well the guys where you’re from clearly didn’t have good taste…and I promise it’s not just cause you’re new. Just one date? I won’t hurt you…I promise.”

“One date Jack Harlow. We’ll see how it goes.”

And for the most part, Jack kept his promise. The years went on perfectly. You two managed to fall in love and he was all of your major firsts. You supported him all throughout his career but you always chose to stay private, not wanting to be in the spotlight or public eye which he supported.

And since then too, your relationship with his family grew exponentially. At first his Mom was a bit hesitant, fearing that you’d break his heart but the more she got to know you and spend time with you, you easily became the daughter she never had. She loved you like her own and it wasn’t quite a Harlow family gathering without you being there by Jack’s side.

However, it seemed as though everything changed when he did his Chicken Shop date interview. It was no secret that Jack had a major glowup and that interview in particular sparked the internet’s interest in the upcoming rapper, even being deemed as the new ‘white boy of the month’ and the internet’s boyfriend. That’s when the problems started.

Jack bit his lip as he watched you get prepared for bed. You were standing in front of the mirror, finishing up your skincare routine by applying your moisturizer. Once done, you made your way into the bed and raised your brow at your boyfriend when you noticed his anxious expression.

“Why do I feel like you have something you wanna tell me?” you laughed, your brows quirked up at him.

Jack took in a breath and ran a loose hand through his curls. “Look ma—the team thinks you should take down all of our photos together on IG.” You furrow your brows as you turn to look at him.

“Why?”

He lets out a sigh. “They think it’ll be better if we stay private for my brand—” You can’t help but scoff at his response. “Is that what you think too?” you ask him.

Jack groans, “baby it’s what’s best for my career at the moment…it’s better if people think I’m single to keep up that persona they’re going for. Plus you don’t even like being in the spotlight—”

“Yeah but I still like posting about my boyfriend,” you interrupt with a frown. “Plus my Instagram is already private.”

“Ma, fans always find a way to get that shit,” Jack sighed. “Please baby? They really think it’s better this way. And it won’t change anything about us…I love you and it just means we get to be more private about our relationship without fans getting in the way especially with the sudden interest,” he persuaded sweetly.

You sigh before nodding reluctantly. “Okay…I’ll archive all of the photos of us,” you reassure.

Jack grinned as he swiftly cupped your cheeks and placed a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re the best ma.”

While it did partly not sit right with you that he wanted to hide your relationship from the public, you also heard many celebrity stories of relationships ending because of overbearing fans so you decided for the time being, it was the right choice.

As Jack gained more attention within the industry, he also gained much more attention from women which truth be told, was starting to become a difficulty for Jack.

Jack sat on the couch with his head in his hands as he rubbed his temples. “Ma you gotta calm down—”

“No I’m not gonna calm down! You were flirting with her on camera! I keep trying to be understanding of how all of this can help your career but you’re constantly direspecting me either by flirting with other girls or having them up all over you!” you exclaim. “It’s not fair to me.”

Jack let out an annoyed groan. “I told you it meant nothing but gaining a connection! Her team literally contacted me to do a song together so it’s obviously for work!” he yelled.

You take in a breath as your eyes collect with tears. “It still hurts to see Jack! You do it too much now,” you say with a shaky voice. “I don’t…I don’t wanna be a secret anymore. I can handle the attention because I want people to know you have a girl,” you sniffle.

Jack clenched his jaw and his hands balled up into fists while he shook his head. “I’m not doing this right now Y/N! Just drop it,” he groaned. “I’m not ready for people to know.”

You can’t help but scoff. “Jack we’ve been together since senior year! You can’t keep hiding me and letting girls come up and flirt with you! If you keep acting like you’re single then you’re gonna end up single…” you sigh.

“Yeah well maybe that’s what the both of us need right now.”

[ice-mans-world]

Mystery Man

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader

Hey this is the longest thing I’ve ever written hope you like it

warnings ⚠️: smut in the beginning some cursing

———————————————————————

“ Please…don’t stop” you cried out to bob. You two had been going at it for hours. Bob had just gotten back from a mission two days ago and since then you couldn’t keep your hands off one another.

“ Darlin’…you feel so fucking good… squeezing me so tight… I know your close… you gonna cum darlin’ ” He whispered, face in your neck, pounding into soaked pussy.

The bed creaked under his thrusts more than usual, not that you minded anyway. Your mind was not coherent enough to focus on anything but him. The way he smells, the way he sounds; god his sounds, his moans and whimpers are heavenly. But best of all is the way he feels. The drag of his cock in and out of you has you on cloud fucking nine. He is by far the best you’ve ever had and try to tell him that any chance you get, when your alone of course.

“ Shit..I’m gonna come” you stated as the red hot coil in your stomach stared to tighten.

“ Come on sweetheart...cum for me” he pleaded as he reached a hand down to rub fast little circles on your clit. He kept up his aggressive pace as you started to let go. “ Fuck. Robby” You screamed as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. As you came you heard your wood bed frame snap and felt the whole frame fall apart. Bob didn’t seem to notice that you whole bed frame is now shattered and tilted with the foot of the mattress on the floor. It just gave him a new angle to go deeper. His pace sped up to try to reach his high. “ Baby where do you want it” he questioned. You not caring that the bed broke either moaned “ Inside Robby please I need you to fill me up” With that his hips stuttered as he came deep inside you. He kept his head in the crook of your neck whispering soft praises while you ran your hang up and down his back. Once he caught his breath he sat up to start your usual routine after sex of cleaning you up and drawing you a bath, but he noticed the tilt of the mattress due to the broken bed. “ what happened” He questioned you replied with “ we broke the bed” “ wow” was all he could say

So you and bob broke the bed. It’s was a complete accident, you didn’t mean for it to break. Bob was just hitting it a little too hard for the bed to handle. Now you had to buy a new bed. While on lunch at work you’re sitting with Bob, Rooster, and Pheonix while scrolling on your phone for cheap bed frames. Hangman happened to walk behind you and see what you were looking at

“ Why are you looking at bed frames” He asked

“ Broke the last one” you fired back

“ How did you break your bed frame, was it because of your mystery man” He question You looked at bob out of the corner of your eye to see him flush. “ Yeah it was” you replied.

“ Why is this the first I’m hearing about a mystery man” Rooster exclaimed. You looked at him and replied “ Because me and my mystery man like for him to be a mystery man right now” you stated “ Rooster and I can come over and fix it I bet you two barely even broke it.” Hangman said “ I wanna see how this turns out let’s put a bet on it bagman” phoenix suddenly spoke up. “ Usual 20 bucks” He asked “ Nah let’s make it 50” she stated “ Your on” he finished. “ So Hangman, rooster see you later at my place?” You questioned. Both men agreed.

When you got home you made sure that anything of bobs was out of sight and you tried to clean up as much as you could considering. You changed out of your uniform to some comfy clothes and waited for your guests. A knock sounded from your door and you got up to open it. Once you did you were greeted with the sight of rooster and hangman. Saying your usual greetings to the pair you let them inside. “ You guys want anything, I just made some tea” rooster agent to say something but in usual Hangman fashion he cut him off. “Nah I just wanna see this broken bed” Hangman fired back. “ Rooster help yourself to the kitchen while I go entertain this idiot” you stated to the mustached man. Rooster wonders off to your kitchen while you lead Hangman to your bedroom.

As soon as you opened the door and stepped in his jaw was on the floor. “You weren’t kidding” he stated shocked. “ Rooster your gonna wanna see this” he yelled. “ What it can’t be that bad” he said walking down the hallway. As soon as he stepped through the doorway his jaw and his glass of tea dropped. “ God dammit rooster you had to drop tea on my carpet!” You scolded you rushed to the bathroom to get a wet wash cloth to clean it up. From you bathroom you shouted to hangman “ Think you can fix that hangman” you asked and he replied stunned “ I have to give your mystery man some props, I have broken my fair share of beds but never this bad.” “ Make sure you pay phoenix” you countered. You walked back out and handed rooster the wet wash cloth. “ That better not stain rooster or I will literally kill you” the three of you made small talk about said broken bed while rooster cleaned up his spilt tea. “ So how did this happen” Hangman asked. “ Well when your acutely pleasing a women shit happens.” You retorted. Rooster started cackling from his position on the floor. “ Hey I know how to please a woman” he defended for himself.

“ Hey where do you want me to put this” Rooster questioned you. “Just put it in the hamper next to you” you replied. Rooster carelessly opened the lid to the hamper, threw the wet cloth into it and closed the lid. He looked confused for a second and opened the lid again. “Whatcha lookin’ for in the hamper” you asked “ Why is bobs shirt in your hamper” He interrogated. The color drained from your face. Why didn’t You look in the hamper, god you felt like and idiot. “ Oh bob let me borrow a shirt he had in his truck when a guy at the hard deck spilled beer on me last week” I responded “ Well that doesn’t explain the possible cum stains” he retorted. Shit shit shit shit. You have no excuses now. “ Bobs your mystery man isn’t he?” Hangman challenged. “ Well cats out of the bag now” you sighed “ Yeah bobs my mystery man” “And you two broke the bed!” Rooster and hangman exclaimed at the same time. “I mean yeah bobs got some strength” you shot back. “ You and bob broke a bed” hangman stated. “Not the first thing we broke in this house probably won’t be the last”

After some talk with the two they agreed not to say anything. They were still stunned that you and bob broke a bed. Then left your house a little bit afterwards.

Rooster and hangman decided to go to the hard deck for a strong drink. They walked in and made a b-line for the bar. They ordered their drink and went to see their fellow aviators at the pool table. On the way there they noticed bob sitting on his usual stool eating peanuts. They each claps him on they shoulder and congratulated him. He sat there confused as he watched rooster join the game of pool. Hangman leaned over and handed phoenix a wad of cash. “ So you couldn’t fix it could you” she questioned. “ Nah that thing was shattered” Rooster replied. Bobs face immediately flushed. Phoenix’s keen eyes didn’t miss that but she wouldn’t bring it up now. Bob felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and noticed a text from you.

Sugar🥰: they know

Robby🛩: shit what do you want to do

Sugar🥰: well let’s tell them it’s about time anyway I want the world to know who my amazing boyfriend is ❤️

Robby🛩: well then the world will get to know that your beautiful amazing smart talented self is my girlfriend ❤️

[seita]

— better than (m.)

pairing : iwaizumi/reader

wordcount : 3.087

genre : fluff, smut, pwp

cw : college!au, athletic trainer!iwaizumi

tags : implied age gap (hes 27 reader is in college- age nkt specified. he's older tho), size kink, dom!iwa, pussy job (a lil bit), multiple orgasms, sensitivity kink (if u squint), squirting, fingering, creampie, aftercare.

note : this was just an excuse to write about how iwaizumi is better than any other boy <3 thank u to @toshisins for beta'ing this for me <3

+ summary : you're so tired of dumb college boys who hump and dump, with no stroke game, and can never even try to get you off. that is, until you meet 27 year old iwaizumi hajime.

When you first met Iwaizumi Hajime at the bar near your college campus, you noticed how good looking he was. Well, that was an understatement - he was tall, fit with tanned skin and a confident aura that made you weak in the knees.

You hadn't actually had the courage to approach him, however. Instead, you let some college boy buy you a cheap drink and take you home for some mediocre sex before kicking you out after not even 15 minutes of his reckless humping.

The second time you met him was at the same place. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that was almost empty. His back was to you and it gave you a wonderful view of his broad shoulders.

The mediocre lay from the last time you had been there attempted to chat you up again with false confidence, as if he had been the best fuck of your life. Naturally, you weren't having any of his bullshit - he tried to rub your clit like a scratch and sniff, forcing you to pry his hand away from it, there was no chance in hell you were giving him another second of your time. He definitely wasn't the type of guy who took rejection well, if not evident by the way he exploded and went off calling you a wide, colorful variety of names paired with numerous hurtful insults that had tears of humiliation filling your eyes.

“Hey now,” a smooth, deep voice had interrupted his very public spiel, “Don’t punish the girl for your own short comings, if she doesn't wanna fuck you again, don't you think that says more about your abilities as a man?”

The other man sputtered, muttering even more curses before storming out - probably not wanting to tussle with a guy who looked like he benched every second of his day.

There was something about Iwaizumi that just immediately had your heart skipping a beat over him. He was kind, a gentleman, and never seemed desperate or overbearing. He was confident and comfortable with himself and where he was in life.

You quickly learned that Iwaizumi was 27, almost 28 and worked as an athletic trainer so he traveled a lot.

For a while, your relationship seemed one sided with him. You'd text him and he’d reply but he rarely ever actually reached out to you. You tried flirting with him, asking him out for drinks, but it never seemed to pull him in.

It was frustrating. In basically no time at all, you had developed a stupid puppy dog crush on him. You felt like a middle school girl with a crush on a high school senior - like he was never going to give you the time of day. You were simply too young for him.

You eventually stopped trying with him, choosing to delete your message thread with him and continued on with your life.

You went through more college-boy hookups - all of them ending in disaster. Quite frankly, you were fed up with mediocre cock and being treated like shit when they were done with you. It wasn't a nice feeling, being kicked out after they didn't even bother trying to make you cum.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Iwaizumi would be like in bed. He was just so attractive, you knew he had gotten his dick wet more times than he could count. He definitely seemed the type who preferred relationships over hookups.

That's when it occurred to you.

You pulled out your phone and scoured your contacts. It had been a couple weeks since you spoke but you couldn't resist bugging him just one last time. You opened a new message thread with him and quickly typed the question that was now plaguing your mind.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

It was the question that had changed the course of your relationship with him.

When you asked, it was like everything fell into place. Perhaps it finally relayed to him the interest you had. All that really mattered was the fact he suddenly began talking to you, starting conversations and even venturing into phone calls with you.

You lost all interest in those college boys you once hung out with and went home with to get laid. None of them made you feel the way Iwaizumi could with a simple text message. He was everything a girl could ask for and you were shocked he was single.

Which was why you were quick to ask him on a date, not caring if it made you look desperate -- you practically were. You would be damned if he went off the market while you were busy beating around the bush.

Going on a date with Iwaizumi was like a dream. You were so used to dates at sleazy bars for a couple of drinks just so they could hurry up and take you home for a quick fuck.

Iwaizumi took the time to take you on several dates -- dinner, movies, walks around town to obscure shops he thought you might like, before it finally led to the bedroom.

You had never been nervous with sex but with Iwaizumi it was different. The routine was dumb college boys who usually fawned over your tits for a few minutes before their hard ons became the center of their brain function.

You found yourself completely bare on his bed as he stood at the foot, fully clothed. The way his eyes raked across your body like a lion eyeing its next, delicious meal had you curling in on yourself shyly.

His lips quirked up as your arms came across your breasts, shielding them from his predatory gaze, “Oh now, you know better than that, don’t you? What kind of good girl hides herself, hm? Acted so eager for my cock all this time, now you wanna be shy?”

You gasp, cheeks flushing hot as you register his words -- he’d known you wanted him that badly all this time?

He clicks his tongue, “You didn’t think you were subtle did you? Bet you would have done anything to get your paws on my dick when I got off work early the other day, hm? Showed up at your apartment...you were starin’ real hard at me, I’m right aren’t I?”

You think that to that day, lashes fluttering against your cheeks at the memory. He was wearing loose gray sweats and a muscle tank top that showed his biceps flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes had immediately been drawn, however more down to his crotch instead. Where you could clearly see the outline of his cock through the material.

You had stuffed your little fingers in your cunt for hours that night, thinking about how big he looked -- even soft, couldn’t imagine if he was hard.

“Ah, there you go again,” he muses, snapping you out of your haze, “Maybe if you ask real pretty for me, I’ll give you just what you want.”

“Please,” you immediately gasp, “Want you so much Hajime, i-it hurts. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you…”

“It hurts?” he huffs, finally reaching up to pull his shirt off, leaving you to ogle his pecs and defined abs, which flex as he works on removing his jeans, “Needy little cunt hurts ‘cause you don’t have a nice, fat cock stuffing it full? Such a dramatic little baby. I just know your phone is full of some little college boys’ numbers...why don’t you give them a call?”

You shake your head, “Don’t want them! I just know they’re not as good as you, Hajime, please...please make me cum, I'll do anything?”

“Aw, those idiot little boys don’t know how to make a pretty girl like you cum, is that it?” he asks, climbing onto the bed, making the mattress dip beneath you as he slots himself between your thighs.

“No,” you pout, letting him spread your legs, hands under your knees to open you up to his greedy gaze.

“So compliant with me, you just need a real man to get you off, huh?” he smiles when you nod, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you.”

Oh, you knew. Just from the way he moved his hips against yours, parting your folds so the head of his cock glided from your clenching little hole, dragging your slick up to your clit -- you just knew that he knew what he was doing.

As you looked between your legs, you felt yourself gush at the sight. His cock was so big, long and fat, drooling precum over your slick little slit, making a mess. He wrapped his fist around his length, making you whimper as his fingers couldn’t even wrap around the girth of him. He slapped his cock against your cunt, groaning at the strings of your slick that clung to him.

“Such a messy cunt,” he sighs, making sure to spank your clit with the head of his cock, laughing breathlessly when your thighs jumped in response to the sudden stimulation, “So fucking eager for me, aren’t you?”

“Uhuh,” you sigh, arching your hips, “Want you to fuck, please, Hajime, need it so bad.”

Much to your dismay, he shakes his head, “Can’t just put it in, pretty baby,” the pet name makes you whimper, “It’ll hurt too much, want you to feel good, yeah?”

“I can handle it,” you breathlessly reassure, canting his hips upward once more to drag your clit against that ridge on the crown of his cock, “Jus’ put it in…”

He doesn’t respond this time but still makes no move to put his cock inside. You’re distracted, however, by the way he now focuses on playing with your clit. Using his cock, he drags the underside across the hard little bud, slaps it once with the tip and before you know it your body is seizing up and you cum.

You let out a string of curses, falling limp against the bed as he works you through the quick high.

“See, that was so easy,” he chuckles, “Those stupid little boys you’ve been letting screw you have no idea what they’re doing, do they? Little cunts so sensitive, I barely even had to do anything to make you cum.”

You’re still trembling when you come down, licking your lips as you give him a dopey little smile and a nod at his cooing. He can’t resist leaning down, and pressing his lips against yours almost desperately. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in a deep kiss while his hand finds its way between your legs, two fingers sliding easily into your slick little cunt.

You moan into his mouth, “Hajime ah! ...please, make me cum again.”

“Fuck, you’re so desperate for me,” he hisses through his teeth, “Clenching around my fingers so tight. If I crook my fingers...right here...I bet you’ll just…”

As if on cue, his fingertips hook on your g-spot and you squeal, legs kicking out as you gush around his fingers. He bites his lip and continues to fuck his fingers against that spot, watching your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you cum for the second time in mere minutes.

“Y-You’re so good, Hajime…” you praise softly, “Fuck, please, give me your cock now!”

He laughs and sits up properly again, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He examines them for a second, slick with your cum and streaks of cream covering the digits before he pops them into his mouth with a moan, savoring the taste of you.

“Alright, baby,” he sighs after pulling out his fingers with a pop!. He grips you beneath the knees again and scoots closer until his tip prods at your entrance. You shudder at the feeling, “Relax for me, pretty girl, let me in…”

Iwaizumi begins pushing in, letting out a soft groan as the head finally buries itself in your cunt. You squeal at the feeling, pulling your knees closer to your chest. The sound of you moaning and whimpering just from his head has him throbbing almost painfully against your tender cunt.

“Almost there…” he huffs, grinning at the sight of your eyes rolling back, “Ah, does that feel good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, “Biggest cock I’ve ever had…’s full…”

“Yeah, baby? It feels so good to finally get your cunt filled with a nice, big cock huh?” he laughs when you nod eagerly, “It’s alright, baby. You won’t have to deal with any mediocre college boys anymore, yeah? This cock’s all yours now…you hear that? All yours.”

Your hand flies down between your legs, finding your clit. He watches with lidded eyes as you circle the little bud and squeal, keeping his hips still to let you cum around his cock nice and hard like you need.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he hums, “Get yourself off, you know what you need...atta girl…”

You sigh happily at his praise, licking your lips and relax against the bed once more. He takes that as his hint that you were ready, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming back inside your sensitive cunt. It knocks the air from your lungs and you cry out, unable to hold back your noises as he fucks you senseless.

He uses his strength to keep you pinned, forcing your knees against your chest, leaving your cunt open and vulnerable to his pistoning cock. Iwaizumi is so big that the stretch burns every time he sinks back into you, the tip touching your cervix with every calculated thrust, making your entire body ache with the deep pain of it.

But it all feels so good, you’d never been fucked like that before. He knew exactly where to aim his cock, keeping his eyes fixed on your face to watch your reactions, gaze flicking down to where his cock stuffs your cunt full to watch you coat him in your cream whenever he grazes that sweet little spot deep inside you -- a spot no other man had ever tried to find before.

“Feel good?” he questions, though he knew the answer even before you cry it out.

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you sob, “I-It feels so good, Hajime! Fuck, you’re so good at fucking me! You make me feel like a virgin all over again!”

He grins, “Yeah, I know I am, baby.”

His cocky, confident response would have been a turn off with any other man, but with him -- it only made you moan. He had every right to be cocky, he knew just how to use his cock and it was exhilarating.

“You gotta cum again for me, pretty,” he pants, “Cum again, one more time, let go.”

Your throat burns from how much you scream for him, the messy noises coming from him fucking your sloppy cunt should be embarrassing -- you’ve never made such a mess before. You’ve never been so wet, creaming and gushing all the way down his balls.

He didn’t seem to mind, instead he seemed to only be turned on by it.

“I want you to squirt, can you do that for me? Make a pretty mess for me.”

You shake your head, “D-Don’t know how...Can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby,” he purrs, “I can make you, you know that I will.”

You didn’t but, you couldn’t help but nod -- immediately believing him and trusting him. He shifts his knees just slightly, changing his center of balance before his palm curls over your pubic bone, thumb effortlessly finding itself pressed against your clit.

The change in angle lets him hit your g-spot even more brutal than before. You’re immediately arching and crying out for him, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm slam into you faster than you’d ever experienced.

Instead of slowing you down, he works you through it, keeping the same, animalistic pace and keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, the rough pad of his thumb has you ogling. If anything, the calloused hands of Iwaizumi proves to you how much of a real man he is, those college boys have nothing on him.

“Give it to me, c’mon,” he urges, clenching his teeth together from the effort it takes to keep going to this hard and fast pace.

“H-Haji…” you cut yourself off as you feel yourself get thrown over the edge again. This time, something feels different and you can’t help but sob, “Please! I-I’m gonna-!”

“That’s it, fuck!” he moans, pace stuttering when you squirt -- your cum splashing against his abs as you shudder and squeal, “Good fuckin’ girl, my good girl. Shit, where do you want me to cum?”

“I-Inside! Fuck, please! I need your cum!” you immediately sob, nails biting in his biceps where you reach out to grip him -- trembling and crying from overstimulation as he works towards his own high.

“You sure? Shit,” you nod, breathless pleas falling from your lips as he finally stills, spilling his load deep inside with a long, drawn-out groan.

Everything is still for a moment and then he’s pulling out with a hiss. You whine at the feeling of your cunt gaping, yearning for his cock again, as his cum leaks out.

He hums, “Sorry about that, let me get you cleaned up.”

You sigh, and close your eyes, trying to relax and let your body settle its trembling. He comes back and quietly works on cleaning the mess between your thighs.

“Alright, up you go,” he sighs, taking your arm and helping you to your feet. You whine and wobble for a second, making him laugh, “You good?”

“Y-Yeah…” you stumble a bit and lean against his dresser, looking for your discarded clothes.

He has his back to you as he strips his sheets. Suddenly, you feel shut out -- like you shouldn’t be there anymore.

He brushes past you to his closet, pulling out some fresh sheets. You feel silly, standing there naked while he gets ready for bed. You bend down and grab your panties, clumsily putting them on before moving to pick up your dress, where it’s crumpled on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he laughs, “That won’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Huh?” you tilt your head to the side and he pauses fluffing his pillows.

“What...you didn’t think I was kicking you out, did you?” he asks and scoffs at the face you make.

“Well I...usually I…” you shift on your feet nervously and he frowns, walking up to you.

He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him, “Jesus, who have you been fucking?” he laughs and gently nudges you towards the bed, “Lay down before you fall over.”

Fighting back a smile, you do as you’re told and sit on the bed, watching as he puts on a fresh pair of sweats, waiting for him to join you. When he does, he immediately pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Take a nap, and then we’ll take a shower.”

“It’s 11 at night, it wouldn’t be a nap,” you counter with a giggle.

“Well,” he sighs, “Take a shower in the morning then, and then we can go get breakfast, yeah?”

You smile and relax against him, “Sounds good.”

seita © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost

[messers-moony]

Accepted | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Wife!Reader

Summary: Five craves nothing more than to be accepted and loved by his siblings. That doesn’t appear to happen when he time travels back to 2019 after disappearing for seventeen years.

Five had never seen anyone so beautiful before. Even in the apocalypse, she was gorgeous. He knew it wasn’t because they were the only ones left either. She had his heart from the moment they accidentally ended up in the apocalypse together.

Y/n was a normal girl, an ordinary girl. She had no powers, completely powerless. It just so happens she was walking down the sidewalk and brushed shoulders with Five, which brought her with him.

He couldn’t be mad at her. It wasn’t her fault that they had brushed shoulders. He should’ve been more careful. Y/n was a shy and skittish girl. Not very talkative. It took her a week to use her voice after being thrown into the end of the world.

Despite Five’s commonly inpatient nature, he was extremely patient with her. She was all he had now, and he felt completely comfortable with her. It took a year for her to open up to him, to trust him finally.

She told him all about school and what it was like while Five listened intently. He loved listening to her talk about normal kid activities, things he never got to participate in. Y/n promised him once they got back to save the world, no matter how old, they’d do those things together.

The girl had a certain aura around her that just made him smile. After five years, they were inseparable. Five couldn’t imagine life without her. He couldn’t fathom how he lived without her. He could tell her anything and didn’t fear of being judged.

He had been strong for so long, but not he didn’t have to be anymore. He could let loose and be himself, whether it was being playful, cheerful, upset, or angry. He could be him, and that’s all that mattered to him.

At the age of twenty, they decided to date, knowing it’d be a risk but a risk well taken because Five proposed at the age of twenty-five. Obviously, getting married wasn’t really an option. Nevertheless, he always thought of her as Y/n Hargreeves. His pride and joy.

At the age of forty-one, they were both taken into the commission– a job they both loathed. However, in order to get back to their time, it had to be done. Every night after a mission or a long day, Five would snuggle up Y/n’s chest and sob.

It became a daily routine for the next four and a half years. Every night Five would cry. He missed everything and hated everything. He regretted not listening. He hated the killing. He missed his siblings. Y/n would sit and listen while rubbing his back.

She thought for sure that his siblings missed him. Oh, how wrong she was. She found that out when they returned back to their timeline. Both lovers had fallen to the ground back in their thirteen-year-old bodies.

“ Does anyone else see Little Number Five and a little girl, or is that just me? “ A male queried as five people peered at the two.

Y/n and Five both got up from the ground looking down at their attire. Their clothes were ten times too big for them now. Five appeared to look just as young as he did forty-five years ago, and so did Y/n. Five couldn’t help but smile at her gorgeous appearance that he hadn’t seen in years. She was beautiful at all ages, but he was particularly fond of her teenage form, as was she of him.

“ Shit. “ Five muttered as he walked past them, and Y/n followed.

Five led her into the Hargreeves manor. It was a huge house, one that consisted of too many bedrooms and bathrooms for one person. He held her hand tight, and he stood at the end of the table. At the same time, his siblings piled around the table.

“ What’s the date? The exact date. “ Five’s voice was stern as he began making food, “ The 24th. “ A brunette female responded.

“ Of what? “ Five asked, annoyed, “ March. “ She replied again.

“ Good. “ Five said, opening the loaf of bread.

“ Are you gonna introduce us to your lady friend? “ The male from earlier questioned, and Y/n took refuge behind Five.

Five sighed as he pulled her next to him, letting his arm rest upon her waist, “ This, is Y/n Hargreeves. “

“ Hargreeves? Is she dad’s biological child, or was there another child we didn’t know about? “ The big male quizzed, and Five smirked, looking up at his siblings, “ Or perhaps the most obvious conclusion, but you guys aren’t smart enough to see what’s right in front of you. “ Five insulted, which made Y/n lightly hit him.

“ She’s my wife. “ The boy summarized, kissing her cheek, “ Wife?! You guys are thirteen. “ A woman in a blue shirt interjected.

“ Ignore that. What just happened outside? “ A large male queried as Five continued to make his food, “ It’s been 17 years. “

Five scoffed, “ It’s been a lot longer than that. “

Gently Five removed his arm from Y/n’s waist, and spatial jumped behind Luther to grab something. Y/n was hesitant but took a seat on the counter as her husband's siblings stared her down

“ I haven’t missed that. “ The big male murmured, “ Where’d you go? “ Questioned a male in all black.

“ The future. It’s shit, by the way. “ Five replied as he spatial jumped from getting his marshmallows and back to the front of the table, “ Called it! “ The skinny male exclaimed

“ I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing. “ The teen began as he looks through the fridge, “ Jumping through time is a toss of the dice. “

The boy looked up from what he was doing and took his sibling's appearances in, the ones he missed dearly but saw all dead. If you were Y/n, you could see his green eyes glass over. But if you were the Hargreeves siblings, you saw a heartless and cold teenage boy.

“ Nice dress. “ He complimented, “ Oh, well, danke! “ The skinny male exclaimed.

“ Wait, how did you get back? “ Asked the anxious brunette, “ In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time. “ Five answered.

“ That makes no sense. “ Blurted the black-wearing male, “ Well, it would if you were smarter. “ Five smirked.

“ Five, stop. They’re trying to understand. You probably sound insane. “ Y/n spoke up for the first time since coming back, “ Oh, I like her. “ The skinny male chuckled.

“ I’m Klaus. “ He introduced, “ Pleasure. “ Y/n greeted with a smile.

The strong male looked baffled, “ How long were you two there? “

Y/n sighed, “ Forty-Five years. Give or take. “ Five answered, “ So what are you saying? That you two are 58? “ He questioned again.

“ Our consciences are 58, apparently our bodies are 13 again. “ The teen boy answered, “ Wait, how does that even work? “ Questioned the brunette again.

“ He got the equations wrong. Meaning his math was off, bringing us back into the same bodies we left in. “ Y/n softly explained as Five ate his food.

“ Guess I missed the funeral. “ Five said as he picked up a newspaper on the table, “ How’d you even know about that? “ Asked the large male.

“ What part of the future do you not understand? “ Five barked, “ Heart failure, huh? “

“ Yeah/No. “ Contradicting answers.

“ Nice to see nothings changed. “ Five said, clicking his tongue, walking away.

“ Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say? “ Questioned the curly-haired woman asked the boy who was walking away.

“ What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life. “ Five said now out of the room and into the rest of the mansion.

“ Well, that was interesting. “ The big male concluded.

Y/n sighed, “ I’m sorry for him. The past few years for him haven’t been the greatest. Just know he cares about you guys. “

“ I’m Vanya. “ Smiled the anxious brunette, “ And that’s Allison, Luther, and Diego. Klaus interjected earlier. “ Vanya introduced, pointing at each member.

“ Nice to meet you all. I’m going to go find Five. “ Y/n smiled as she walked away.

It took a couple of minutes, but she eventually found what seemed to be like their bedrooms. Only one door was shut, so she knocked hesitantly on it. Sniffles were heard on the other side.

“ Five, it’s me. “ Her voice was serene and quiet, “ Come in. “ His voice was muffled through the door.

Her hand turned the door handle, and she walked inside. Gently she shut the bedroom door and locked it, knowing he hated people seeing him vulnerable. Y/n turned to see him sitting on his bed with his elbows resting on his knees, hands on his face crying.

She knelt in front of him, taking his hands into her own, “ They don’t care. “ Were the first words muttered from his mouth, “ They do care. They’re just confused. “ Y/n replied.

He shook his head and sat on the floor in her embrace, sobbing, “ It’s going to be okay, Five. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. “ Y/n reassured as she ran her hands through his hair.

She felt a gentle kiss being laid on her shoulder, knowing it was his way of acknowledging what she said. After minutes passed, he had stopped crying and instead fell asleep, right in his lover's arms where he was always accepted.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Two Ghosts Chapter 1

TITLE: Two Ghosts Chapter 1 PAIRING: Iceman/OC, Rooster/OC (if you squint) RATING: T CHAPTER: 1/? SUMMARY: It was just a routine training session, but it changed Noel “Mongoose” Grenier’s life forever. The legends of pilots flying through time vortexes was true, because it happened to her. Dropped into 1984 during Maverick’s Top Gun training, she must navigate keeping her secret while also completing the program…again. Will she return to her own time unscathed? Or will she lose her heart in the process?

“Good morning, aviators. This is your Captain speaking,” Maverick’s voice came through their comms, “You know the rules. Only guns, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet.”

“That means you, Roos,” Mongoose quipped.

Rooster rolled his eyes at his wingman.

“No one bet any pushups this time,” Fanboy said.

“What’s the matter, Mickey Mouse? Didn’t you like all those pushups?” Mongoose asked.

“I know you did, Mongoose,” Hangman teased, “I caught you staring.”

“I’d rather get blown out of the sky.”

“You have! Twice!” Rooster reminded her.

“Roosie, have I told you how much I hate you?” Rooster chuckled.

“Not today, darlin’. I was afraid you’d forgotten.”

“Okay, enough chit chat. Let’s turn and burn!” Maverick said.

Mongoose anticipated Maverick’s move and shot up into the clouds.

“Mongoose! Where the hell are you going!” Hangman yelled.

Mongoose laughed. “Keep up boys!”

“Where is she?” Hangman asked Rooster.

“I don’t know. She disappeared from my radar.”

Mongoose leveled her jet out in the clouds, keeping an eye out for Maverick. The clouds started swirling around her. “Guys, anyone else seeing this weird storm?” Mongoose asked.

“What weird storm? The sky is clear,” Fanboy said.

“Where the hell are you?” Rooster asked.

“Mongoose, descend now!” Maverick ordered.

Mongoose tried to descend, but nothing happened. “My controls won’t work!”

“Where are you? I’m coming for you,” Rooster said.

“I don’t know! Rooster!”

Rooster could hear the panic in her voice. “Just hold tight, princess.”

“Ro….he…”

“Mongoose?”

There was nothing.

“Noel?”

Rooster was starting to panic.

“GOOSE!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Mongoose knew, she exited the clouds and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down at her radar and saw nothing. “Rooster?” she asked.

There was silence.

She looked down and saw water.

“What the fuck?”

She’d been flying over the mountains of California, not the sea.

“Hangman?”

Mongoose scanned through radio frequencies until she heard a voice.

“Uh guys, I’m picking up a plane.”

“Is it one of ours?”

Wait. She knew that voice. She’d heard it on videos at the Academy. “Admiral Kazansky?”

“Holy shit! It’s a girl,” the other voice said.

“Admiral Kazansky? That sounds good doesn’t it?” Iceman said.

Mongoose rolled her eyes.

Great. Another Hangman.

“You? An Admiral? Yeah right, Kazansky!”

“Mav?!”

Maverick’s brows furrowed.

“Of course you fucking know her,” another voice said.

She looked over and saw Maverick next to her and in his backseat was Nick “Goose” Bradshaw.

What the fuck was going on?

Suddenly there were alarms screaming at her. She let out a pathetic whimper, really wished she had Rooster and Hangman covering her.

“Eject! You’re gonna go into a tailspin and trust me, you don’t wanna hit that water in a jet.”

Mongoose laughed. “You know, I always feel so much better after we’ve talked, Mav.” She pulled the handle under the seat, but her parachute didn’t deploy.

“Shit,” Maverick cursed, “We’re gonna need the coast guard.”

Mongoose tried again and it deployed partially.

Well it was better than nothing.

The last thought Mongoose had before she hit the water was of Rooster.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Mongoose came to, her vision was blurry. All she could make out was a blonde man with a mustache and a dark headed man.

“God Roose, you are not gonna believe the dream I had…”

Her vision cleared and Goose and a younger Maverick were standing in her room.

She immediately started freaking out. “No, no. This cannot be happening. It’s not possible. Please tell me Rooster and Hangman are punking me.”

“Rooster and Hangman? Are they part of your squadron?” Maverick asked.

“They’re my wingmen. They were covering me when…”

“We’ll have a search and rescue team sent out. See if they can find anything.”

“Wait. I’m in hospital. They must have given me something. I’m hallucinating. I have to be.”

Mongoose tried to sit up and nearly cried out at the pain in her ribs.

Goose lightly pushed her back down. “Don’t try to move, darlin’. You hit the water pretty hard.”

Tears filled Mongoose’s eyes. She didn’t understand what was happening.

Where was Rooster? Why was his dad here? Why was Maverick so young?

Before she could freak out again, Maverick asked, “What’s your name?”

“Lt. Noel Genier. Callsign: Mongoose.”

Maverick laughed. “Mongoose?”

“Me and my…my squadron were at a bar and the guys got into a fight. I took four of them down on my own.”

“Like a mongoose,” Goose said.

Mongoose nodded.

“Do you know what year it is?”

Judging by the fact that she was most definitely still in Miramar and Goose was still alive...

“1984.”

“And the president?”

Shit.

She didn’t know that answer. History had never been her best subject. So she faked a headache.

Mongoose pressed her hands to her temples. “God. My head is killing me.”

Maverick gently lowered her hands and kissed her hairline. “I’ll have a nurse get you some painkillers.”

Goose stood up and patted her on the knee before leaving with Maverick.

She stared at the place where they stood.

What the fuck was going on?

Taglist: @indynerdgirl

[ronoken]

So, who wants a publishing story?

No one?

…Tough.

To preface, this was prompted by a post I saw about always making sure you read a contract before signing it. I wholeheartedly agree.

So, I write books. A roundabout result of writing books is I occasionally get to speak at conventions. When I do speak at conventions (which hasn’t been for a year. Thanks, covid), a standard question I get asked is about the benefits of self-publishing versus getting a contract. And yes, I fully realize that everyone’s experience in this is different, and I get that. Here’s mine.

So, several years ago, I wrote a book. I put a solid year into it and did numerous rewrites, edits, etc. with three wonderful editors and boom. Book. Done. And then, like many who are impatient or who don’t want to run the risk of rejection, I self-published my first novel.

And to my great shock, I actually sold some copies.

Quick aside. I’m not famous. At. Fucking. All. Some is not millions. Some is several thousand at best. And that’s over YEARS. I am not widely known and I do not claim to be. At all.

So yeah, like, I didn’t sell a million or anything, but I was moving over 100 copies a month when I was putting in the marketing work. Not too shabby. I was hustling on Twitter, FB marketing, Google ad marketing, working the review sites, doing interviews, everything I could. And it actually worked. I can honestly say the number of copies I moved a month directly correlated with how hard I pushed. And when I pushed, I pushed damn hard. I even got to a point where a reviewer who became an editor for DC would routinely provide public reviews for my books, and I was doing a superhero series. Not gonna lie- it was fucking rad.

Anyway, after a couple years of doing this, putting out a second novel which sold okay, a bunch of novellas, and so on, I received an offer out of the blue to have my work officially picked up. For realsies.

Admittedly, I was over the moon about this. I was being contacted by an unsolicited source! AND THEY HAD MONEY!

Now, my work wasn’t Shakespeare. I knew that. They did, too. They offered me a nice little starting sum. Not a lot, but holy shit it was FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS UP FRONT. One of my editors reads my Tumblr and I don’t think I’ve ever told them how much it was. It was 5k. To start. Not a lot, publishing-wise, but that’s because the work was already done. See, most publishers will give you more, but the catch is it’s considered a down payment for more books in a series. They pay you to write future novels, and then they expect you to pay it back. I already had a shit ton of content out, so I essentially skipped that step. Which tells me that publishers really don’t expect to have to actually pay you much, but that’s another post.

To my editor- sorry I never said the exact amount. It felt weird, but it’s been years, so it’s not as weird? I dunno. That logic train made sense as I was writing this.

So, 5k upfront, and then 50% of all sales thereafter, and they would handle EVERYTHING. Marketing, scheduling tours, covers, putting me in stores, the lot. Considering how much time, money, and effort these things took, this was not a terrible deal, but there was a catch.

My story would officially no longer be mine.

Oh, my name would be on it, and I’d write it, but from there on out, the publishing house would have 100% control over how it was marketed, where it went, and so on. If they wanted to option it, I would have zero say and zero rights, meaning they could take it and do fuck-all, and I would be left with nothing. Per the contract, they could even go so far as to issue me a cease and desist on my own work and hire a new person to take over. I was signing away everything in my universe if I said yes.

So, despite the allure of having things offered to me like a legit marketing team, book tours, and money (such as it was), I said no thank you.

Now, it didn’t hurt that I’d already made 5k in sales by that point. I knew my worth and how to push to keep it that way, if I so chose. Also, it helped that I was in an okay place when that offer came in. I could look at it and say, “well, that sure would be nice, but I don’t need it.” A lot of talented writers aren’t in that space, and the offer of several months rent or money for food as well as REALLY-REAL PUBLISHING can be hella tempting. And I get it, for some folks, the deals work out alright. And for some they don’t. And I sure as Hell am not going to judge. Seriously, I still have vivid nightmares about working 60+ hours a week and not being able to afford baby formula. Hell, if they had offered that to me just one year earlier, I would have been forced to take it. At that stage of life, 5k would have been life changing. I was just starting to hit the OK section of life, and only barely. Money when you need it is fucking awesome, and sometimes, you take what you can get.

But if you are a writer? And you’re in a place where it’s not life and death? Read the damn contract. Every single time. Make good and sure you know what you’re getting into and ask yourself, is it worth it to you? If it is, awesome. Again, not gonna judge, and every situation is different.

In my specific case though, it was choosing a nice bit of cash over something I had slaved for years over. I couldn’t do it. I still can’t. It’s the one property I’ll never let go of because when I wrote it, I didn’t even know if I could write a book. It proved to me that yes, I really could, and that was worth more than I can put into words.

TLDR: Read your contracts. Make choices good for you. Some things are worth more than money.