#And when I had finished I asked the waitress if I was allowed to give the cook a tip for the Sauerkraut and she said yes

[woahajimes]

so my dad didnt spoil me with really expensive gifts but

[kiss-me-muchoo]

#𝟏 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥

summary_ in which you have a serious relationship with Paul but you start falling for his dad; Pedro… all because it seemed like your boyfriend was in love with his best friend.

warnings_ AU, CRINGE, no proofread, self indulgent, age gap (not specified but reader is early-mid twenties), implied ora; + unprotected sex (be smart irl), cheating, drama, angst, fluff, DELUSION, did i say cringe already?

note_ sure what the hell, I ♡ being so naca, this Rosie album coded, toxic till the end, number one girl and gameboy !!!!!!!

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

Monotony embraced your life very well. You avoided getting out of your comfort zone and it wasn’t as bad as every therapist likes to point out. Once you were looking out for CDs because vinyls were lovely but too expensive. A random guy reached out and asked if you liked Mitski, you said you were aware of her good music but you were no fan. You thought he would go away after that, but he continued asking what other music you enjoyed. Which led to exchanging numbers, realizing you were mostly opposites but handled a strong tension together.

Paul was a calm and gentle boyfriend, he always came up with the best dates. Going to concerts, secluded bars, underground restaurants, and occasional museum trips. For some time, you had to take planes to visit him. Until university gave you enough peace to allow yourself some freedom.

Now one month into the relationship, you were starting to feel more secure about your feelings for the man in front of you.

“You’ve been staring for too long,” Paul said chuckling, soon returning to smoke a cigarette.

“You want some?”

“I can’t smoke, I’m asthmatic. I like the smell though” you replied rejecting his offer.

“You like the smell of cigarettes?”

“Yeah, they remind me of Las Vegas” he chuckled once again.

Both of you were having drinks in Soho. It was a Friday night and you were extremely close to finishing another fall semester of university.

“Look, they are starting to hang all the Christmas decorations” you point out, watching how a bartender stepped on some creaky stairs to hang ornaments and fake pine leaves.

“I want you to meet my dad,” Paul says.

“What?” your eyes look at him expectantly and shocked.

Wasn’t it a little too fast? But… Did that mean that he was actually trying to make you see that it was serious? That he… loved you?

“Are you sure?” You ask, shyly crossing your arms, pretending to be paying attention to the music playing loudly.

“Of course, I know we’re still new but you’ve already talked with him and I find it… correct?” your cheeks warm up.

All the times his father called, you ended up talking with the old man. Pedro was 49 years old, funny, handsome, adorable, and your boyfriend’s father. He was single since the Irish mother of Paul decided to leave when he was a teenager.

“I’d like that very much. Pedrito is so lovely, so yes, sign me up, honey” he smiles, leaning to give you a kiss.

“I say we arrange it for the holidays” you nod, smiling.

The cold air from outside enters from the wide windows decorating the bar and it makes you shiver.

“Do you want to have dinner here or outside?” you ask Paul.

He shrugs but soon looks outside, wondering.

“Outside. Any options?”

“You know I love sushi”

“Marigold loves sushi too. We always used to go to this place it’s a couple of blocks from here. We could go now…”

There it was.

“Sure, let’s go…” you say, standing up and grabbing your coat and bag. Paul places the tip for the waitress on the table and both of you exit the bar.

Marigold. Cute flower, very similar to daisies. Delicate, sweet, and resourceful. Only that your Marigold was your boyfriend’s best friend, no actual flower. And she was indeed delicate, sweet and resourceful, very pretty, and your biggest insecurity. Nobody was pointing at you with a gun to stay in a relationship where you felt unsure, but you liked to believe you had to be mature. If you decided to bring up the subject, the age gap between you and Paul would be highlighted, leaving you like a crier and immature woman.

Despite the growing aches, you decided to try it with him, thinking it was worth it.

…

The beautiful warm sun of California had something that made you happy despite the dry weather at the beginning of the winter. Paul and you had arrived in Los Angeles to finally meet with his dad. It had been a great time to talk about nonsense and have fun, get to know each other better, and realize how compatible you two were though so different at the same time.

You constantly tapped your index finger against your bag as you waited for Pedro to arrive at the airport.

“Why are you so nervous?” Paul asks before sipping at his boiling tea from a cafeteria.

“Can you tell?” He nods at your question and both share a little smile.

“I don’t know, I usually get nervous when I have to meet new people”

“Dad’s not a stranger. You end up talking with him more than me”

The statement makes you blush.

“You’re perfect, y/n” he kissed your forehead and it made you feel better.

Paul had acquired a liking to hold your hip whenever you two had to walk somewhere. This is why he did exactly that when his phone buzzed, his dad letting him know he had arrived.

Your heart pounded as you two got closer to the exit, but as soon as you saw the tall man leaning against his black car, with a yellow Lakers t-shirt, random jeans, and white sneakers, you felt comfortable. He saw you first and looked adorably happy, he went straight to hug you, which made you feel even more confident and welcome.

“Oh my god, you’re even more lovely in person!” Pedro said, making you chuckle.

“Nice to meet you” You were right about every assumption you made about your boyfriend’s dad. He was sweet, a gentleman, and extremely fucking hot.

“Don’t act like we’re strangers, I think I’ve talked more to you than with my son” Both of you chuckle and you turn to eye Paul, who playfully rolls his eyes before giving a hug to his dad.

“Yeah, you make me lose all of her attention whenever you’re on the phone” Paul adds jokingly, although you realize it wasn’t a complete joke.

“Your old man is very funny, honey” Pedro laughs at your comment as you and Paul exchange silly smiles.

At that moment you had to retrieve any kind of thought because you would end up spilling the three most dangerous words.

I • love • you

You knew it wasn’t time to tell those things to Paul. You wanted to wait.

And when you eyed his dad, you had him already looking at you.

The way he sends a very tiny smirk makes you nervous and sets an odd pooling sensation in your lower stomach.

Welcome to California, bitch. You have a boyfriend you love but can’t tell him yet because he hasn’t said it as well. And his hot dad was there sending you a playful smirk that could be a risk.

…

Christmas is around the corner but it’s a dry warm day when Pedro says his neighbor is throwing a little gathering and he wants to meet Paul. You had no problem and you agreed to accompany them.

Things felt right.

You let out a moan as you feel the waves of an orgasm hitting you, making your legs open wider than ever.

“That was… perfect,” you say between breaths, looking at how your boyfriend popped his head up from under your skirt.

“It’s always a pleasure to eat you out” You cringe at his words and it’s involuntary when you start laughing.

“Gosh, don’t say it like that, Paul” he also laughs, you know he said it like that to bother you but still.

“Are we taking a shower or not?”

“Yes, but let's be a little quick because I need to help your dad with the pie I promised…” Once Pedro learned you liked a cheesecake pie, he wouldn’t shut up and beg you to do one.

“Good because I’m waiting for a call from Marigold,” Paul says entering the bathroom, shirtless and with his hair all messy.

“What for?” You ask with genuine curiosity, a little too much.

“Just ‘cause” you don’t like the tone he used, nor the silly little smile he had as soon as the subject was his best friend.

…

A grill was on, the music was loud enough to make you raise your voice while talking and overall you were having a great time.

Pedro’s neighbors were the sweetest, a Cuban marriage that welcomed you as soon as Paul and his dad presented you to them.

“This food is amazing,” you say pointing at the Cuban torta the hosts made for you.

“It is…” Paul says with his mouth full and you have to let out a laugh while cleaning his upper lip with your napkin.

He smiles at the gesture and both of you lean at the same time to have a quick but soft kiss.

“I lo- I’ll look up if there’s flan left”

You stand up quickly and leave towards the food table making a mess. For the second time, you were about to tell Paul you love him.

Your hands try to fit a big portion of flan into a little plate but a hand on your lower back startles you.

“Are you doing alright, sweetheart?” Pedro asks and it has you blushing because he had to lean and talk in your ear to be loud enough. You can smell his perfume of sandalwood, rum, and neroli. His hands were never cold, unlike Paul’s.

“I’m loving it. The food is perfect, Pedro. Thanks for taking me here…” you admit shyly.

“It’s nothing, baby” you almost scream at the nickname.

“Pedro! Tráete a esa linda muchacha a bailar si tu hijo no la saca!” The Cuban woman tells the old man and you understand everything she said. You are about to retrieve but Pedro grabs you by the waist and drags you near the couple.

“Oh no, Pedro, I don’t dance…”

There’s a song playing in Spanish and more people are already dancing. You turn to look at Paul who was already eyeing you and started laughing, cheering to see you dance with his dad. It’s subtle the way Pedro starts holding you, soon he grabs both of your hands and has you twirling around and giggling. Hidden somewhere you had the moves, easily you reciprocate and let yourself lose it a little.

“You move really well, sweetheart,” Pedro says smirking and it has you gasping in subtle shock.

“Yeah?” Out of nowhere, you are able to gain a straight answer with a naughty tone that makes his smirk disappear, only to appear again seconds later. His brown eyes lock with yours and suddenly you remember you have a boyfriend.

At the same time, a gorgeous older blonde woman comes and Pedro greets her, breaking that little spell you and him had going on.

“Vane! You look lovely!” He says hugging her.

Both start talking and you know it’s your queue to leave, so you excuse yourself, feeling an odd sensation in your chest. It couldn’t be jealousy. You had a boyfriend waiting for you at a nearby table and was the son of the man that you feeling weird things.

Quickly that’s forgotten when Paul waits for you with open arms and you take the courage to sit in his lap since everyone is too busy at the party to pay attention.

“You really have the moves, baby,” he says making you smile, locking your arms around him.

“Hmm, pretty sure you know them too well” Your comment has you blushing and fuels your ego as much as you want to deny it.

“I might need another demonstration” he adds with a deep voice that has you drenching your panties in a flash. You kiss him and as soon as you touch his lips, it’s messy, sloppy, and has you on fire.

Paul must feel the same because his hands caress your hips and pull you even closer, which makes you want to straddle him but you won’t since you’re still a the party. It ends up with your tongues fighting for control and you have to cut out a moan.

Then his phone beeps.

“Wait-“

You sigh, pulling away. He holds the phone and then looks up at you.

“It’s Marigold, she’s asking if she can call me”

“Go ahead, I think I’ll leave now”

“Sure?” Paul asks you.

“Yes, dear. I’ll meet you back at your dad’s home” he nods.

As you walk away, you can’t ignore the anxiety building up in your chest.

…

The next morning, you are having breakfast with Paul and Pedro when he receives another call from Marigold. Paul literally bolts away, looking so excited as soon as he answers.

“He always does that thing?”

“What thing?” you softly ask, chewing at the steak with eggs.

“Getting so excited over a phone call?” Pedro asks with a grin.

“Just for Marigold” you spit out with bitterness. You look at him with wide eyes, realizing you sounded so jealous and even rude.

“I’m sorry…” Pedro smiles briefly, already understanding everything.

“Have you talked about it with him?” You shake your head, looking at Paul, who couldn’t stop smiling while talking and looking down.

“No, of course not. I’m afraid it’ll make me look immature” you shyly answer.

“Sweet girl, I love my son but you have to talk to him. Communication is key to making it work out” You nod at him. Pedro senses your sad smile and gently touches your hand.

“Both of us will figure it out. My boy is god and he wouldn’t hurt you. Anyways… you two have plans for tonight?” You shrug.

“Paul said he wanted to take me to Glendale. To the mall and see that Barnes and Noble of three floors” you confess laughing. Even Pedro knew how much you loved going to libraries to find new books and magazines.

“That sounds nice”

“And you? Any dates?” Pedro chuckles, drinking from his extremely black coffee.

“No, no, dear. I’m staying home tonight” you nod, understanding him.

…

You had already paid for three books, Paul got you coffee and both of you were seated on the floor reading a magazine of haunted places. Barnes and Noble were full of ornaments, a giant Christmas tree, and soft music playing on the first floor that could be faintly heard from the third.

“Native American folklore can be scary. It’s very interesting…” you say after reading about an old myth many tribes used to believe in before colonization.

“I’m trying to think about the most famous ghost from Ireland…” Paul says and it makes you laugh.

“You have to take me to a haunted house. It would be an odd but amazing date” you say.

Paul nods smiling, his blue eyes are so pretty that you could stay looking at them for hours.

“You got lost in my eyes, baby?” He sounds cocky, flirty and you love it.

“How couldn’t? You are so fucking handsome”

“And what about you? Pretty hot I’d say…”

You’re so in love, you want to scream it. You look at Paul again, his beard and mustache made him look so damn well, slightly older but perfect.

Maybe it was the perfect time to say it.

His fucking phone beeps again and the moment is ruined.

“No way… Marigold is here with his boyfriend!” Paul announces.

“Oh?”

“They want me to help them with a little improvised photography session”

“Like right now?” You ask, crossing your arms and showing your discomfort.

“It would be very fast. You can come with me or wait here”

You laugh.

“Are you being serious?” Paul stops texting and looks at you, noticing that you aren’t comfortable.

“Would it be that bad?” You roll your eyes, anger building up.

“Paul, I’ll be very straight to the point. I don’t like how often you come with something related to Marigold”

“She’s my best friend, y/n”

“Oh I’m fucking aware of that,” you say standing up from the floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paul asks sounding very accusatory. You chuckle with disappointment, grabbing the bag of your purchases.

“Ever since our very first date you had to mention her. Marigold likes this, Marigold doesn’t like that. It’s everything I do you have to compare me with her!”

“Keep your voice down,” he says whispering, acknowledging you both were in a library. You sigh, looking down at your pointed boots.

“I would never compare you with her, y/n. I know we are a new thing but you’re being so insecure…” you gasp at his words.

“Is it, Paul? Or when are you going to admit that you are in love with a woman who doesn’t love you back?” He bit his lip and looked away, clearly annoyed.

“I’m going…” Paul said firmly and it broke your heart.

“What a shame. All this weekend I’ve been trying to restrict myself from screaming how much I’m in love with you. Doesn’t matter anymore…” you say before leaving. You hear Paul calling you but you don’t come back, you leave the library and start walking through the crowded streets.

Midway and you couldn’t hold the tears anymore. You question if Paul ever felt attracted to you. Or if he agreed to go out on that first date just because. You know Marigold loves him too, but just as a friend. What made Paul fall in love with her so hard? Sex, things in common, or pure connection? You’d probably never know, but you wouldn’t stay to try to find out.

You arrive at Pedro’s house made a mess of tears.

“Woah, What happened, doll?” Pedro asked, leaving the table he was sitting on to go with you.

“Your son is an asshole” you reply quickly trying to brush past him but he wrapped his arms around and you gave up.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here…”

“I can’t stay, Pedro…”

“What happened?” He pleads.

“Just take me to a hotel. I don’t mind paying a lot, just take me, please…” he nods, grabbing your hand and going straight to the kitchen, to make you a hot tea before packing your things.

…

Pedro takes you to a small, cozy, and secluded hotel near Pasadena. The trip was quiet and he stood by your side until you had a room secured.

You never smoked, but that night you wanted to feel something, so you asked Pedro for a cigarette and you almost finished it on the balcony of your room.

“I don’t want you to go…” you admit, throwing the cigarette he gave you and stepping on it.

“I won’t go…” Pedro said, leaning on the railing of the balcony.

“You were great. I love your place and I feel at home. But…” you sigh, throwing your hands in the air in desperation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked and you slowly nodded.

“There’s not much to talk about. I am crazy about your son. Millions of girls would die to have a boyfriend like him. He’s almost perfect. But… It’s so obvious he loves Marigold. And as long he feels that way about her… he won’t last in any relationship I’m afraid”

“That’s what I told him. And when he came with the news of you. I thought that Marigold thing was gone. Guess not…” you nod at him.

You and Pedro exchange looks.

“Thank you for everything, Pedro. You’ve been so good…” you want to run your fingers through his hair and caress him in your arms.

It’s so wrong to have that type of thinking given that you probably just finished a relationship with his son.

“You’re a good girl, you deserve it all”

The proximity was dangerous, one little movement and you could end up kissing him.

“Why do I feel this way?” You ask whispering. Pedro looks down at your lips and it’s over.

“How?” He asks.

“Like I want you to kiss me so hard”

He did it. Pedro kissed you and it took you by surprise but soon you reciprocated. His lips were softer, warm, and sweet. The old man had the touch.

“Tell me to stop”

“But I don’t want you to…” you answer, leaving a trail of kisses near his jaw and his neck, he gasps softly, closing his eyes.

“Please…” you bed, caged between his broad chest and the railing of the balcony.

“I’ll treat you right, sweetheart…”

He placed you on the bed and you were already gone. His weight on top of you felt right. Your first reward was your hand trailing the length of his tent. He had a pair of dark grey joggers and he looked extremely hot.

“That’s a good girl…” he literally moaned while caressing your hips. You slipped your hands underneath his pants and he slid your panties to the side soon. And for some time, you were near tears because of his tip, constantly dragging across your wet folds.

Thankfully this time weren’t tears of sadness and pain. They were tears of pleasure.

…

Darkness remains across the room when you open your eyes. You feel light as a feather. But soon guilt starts flowing. Even worse when Pedro’s arms feel so nice around you. Protectively holding you against his chest. You can feel his peaceful heartbeats and it melts yours. But that isn’t what woke you up.

It’s the cold air entering from the open slide door. The curtains flow and there's barely any type of illumination with the help of the moon.

Carefully you are able to leave the bed without waking up the old man sleeping. You slip into Pedro’s big purple Lakers tee and finally walk to close the door. The streets are empty and only a few crickets can be heard in the distance.

Then you hear your phone vibrating.

It’s 2:41 am. You have eight phone calls missing and three unread messages from Paul. The messages are being sent right at that moment.

→ I know I fucked it up. Please tell me where you are, y/n.

→ I’m truly sorry.

→ I love you. And I mean it.

You sigh, closing your eyes in an attempt to wash away the guilt. But then you turn to look at Pedro who peacefully rested. You remembered every single date with Paul and how the name of Marigold had to come along ever since the first one. Then the guilt dissipated. But it didn’t disappear.

__________________________________

Taglist: @izzy02soph @gisellec1 @princezzleia @angelbunny222 @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @hc-geralt-23

[creative-soul-22]

Maybe... sort of? But I like buddy more?

It's just Germans call themselves potatoes and it's a joke and an insult at the same time but I don't know if other countries do call us that, too.

Plus I never get this like why do you call yourselves potatoes and not Sauerkraut or something (btw Sauerkraut is something I highly recommend when visiting Munich!😋)

But yeah dEuTsChE kArToFfEl seems to be a thing

✨BLOOP✨

WITH MY MAGIC, I DECLARE YOU…POTATO

YES, YOU ARE NOW A POTATO 🥔

REBLOG TO POTATO YOUR FOLLOWERS IF YOU WANT

[bg-brainrot]

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question. 

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts. 

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

__

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, ��Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions. 

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort. 

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart. 

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this? 

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

– 

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

__

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Dead in the Water - Supernatural Imagine

Request: Can you pls do Winchester sister x brothers (but she's closer with Dean) dead in the water and Winchester sister drowns and almost dies!

warning: drowning, near death experience

A/N- I hope you like it!! Please request more, I love them!

You sat down next to Dean and watched him circle a section of a news article about a girl who drowned to death. Her name was Sophie Carlton and looking at her picture in the paper made you shiver.

You couldn’t imagine what it was like drowning to death. It had to be one of the worst ways to go. Your thoughts were interrupted by the waitress coming back to the table.

She leaned over it so her boobs were practically dangling in your brothers face and you sighed.

Sam made his way over to both of you at the table.

“Can I get you anything else?” She asked staring directly at Dean.

“Just the check, please,” Sam said, sitting next to Dean and shooting him a look.

“You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while,” Dean groaned. He looked back over at the waitress and pointed, “That’s fun.”

You cringed, “Okay well do fun when I’m not here.” Dean looked across the table at you almost like he forgot you were there. “Fair enough, sorry kid.” He said as he turned his attention back to the newspaper.

“Take a look at this. I think I got one.” He said tossing the news paper towards Sam.

“Sophie Carlton, 18, last week. Walked into the lake, doesn’t walk out,” he started, stealing you a glance knowing you were going to feel some type of way about the case. He knew you like the back of his hand.

You just felt so bad. She was so young and she was absolutely beautiful. Looking at her picture made your heart hurt. Maybe it was because you were close in age so it hit a little closer to home? You didn’t know, but it didn’t settle right with you.

“Authorities dragged the water, nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of their bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.” he finished.

“A funeral?” Sam asked.

“Well they probably needed some kind of closure. That’s such an awful thing to happen to someone, I can’t imagine the pain her friends and family are feeling.” You said with so much empathy.

You always were so sensitive and understanding of everything. You had so much empathy and sympathy in your heart.

Dean looked towards you shooting you a soft smile. He knew that you were super sensitive and got too connected to the people involved in cases. He loved that about you though because your big heart made their tough life a little less cold hearted.

“But people just don’t disappear, other people just stop looking for them,” Sam said matter of factly.

Oh great here we go, you thought.

“Something you want to say to me?” Dean asked giving Sam a look.

“The trail for dad- it’s getting colder every day.” Sam said.

“What are we supposed to do?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” Sam replied exasperated.

“You know what? I’m sick of this attitude. You don’t think I want to find dad as much as you do?” He questioned Sam.

Your heart started to race. You didn’t like conflict between your family when it was already having problems.

“Yeah I know you do it’s just th-“ Sam started before Dean cut him off.

“I’m the one who’s been with him every single day for the past two years while you’ve been off to college going to prep rall-“ This time you interrupted Dean, afraid that he was about to say something that would set Sam off.

“Hey both of you! We will find dad, but until then, let’s just kill everything bad between here and there, okay?” You said looking between the two.

Sam sighed turning to Dean, “How far?”

——-

You were staring out the car window watching the scenery pass you by. You couldn’t help but wonder where your dad was or if he was even alive. You were fidgeting with your fingers, fighting back tears thinking of all of the different scenarios your dad could be in.

Dean glanced at you through the rear view mirror. He was already worried about you and he knew their dad missing would send you into a meltdown sooner than later.

You were incredibly family oriented and always wanted to make sure your family was taken care of. You didn’t like conflict because you would say that your family already lost one person, it doesn’t need to lose another. It didn’t do much good because there was always conflict with your dad. Then Sam walked out and it felt like just you and Dean for a while. It always hurt Dean’s heart because you were just a kid and he wished you didn’t have to grow up like that. He also knew that growing up like that was one of your main causes of your anxiety.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a tear slip down your face. He immediately reached back and put his hand on your leg.

“Hey kiddo,” he said as you made eye contact with him through the mirror, “what’s going on?”

You quickly wiped your tears not even meaning to shed one in the first place. “Do you think dads okay?” You asked.

His eyes softened, “I know he’s okay kid. Okay? Everything’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

You nodded, “Okay, yeah, I trust you De.”

He stole another glance at you. “Get some shut eye for me kiddo alright? We’ll be there in about 2 hours.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, letting sleep take over you

———

“Rise and shine kiddo, we’re here!” You heard Dean say.

The three of you got out of the car and walked up to Sophie’s house. Dean knocked on the door and another boy answered. You assumed it was her older brother.

“Will Carlton?” You asked.

“Yeah that’s right.” He replied.

“I’m Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamhill and Wilson. We’re with the U.S. wildlife service.” Dean said as he showed his fake I.D.

Will let you in and took you to the lake that claimed his sister.

You looked out and saw their dad sitting at the dock alone. You couldn’t help, but feel absolutely terrible for the man. It made your heart hurt knowing he was staring at the water that took his daughter’s life.

Your attention was brought back to will speaking. “She was about 100 yards out. That’s where she got dragged down,” he said softly.

“What makes you sure she didn’t drown?” Dean asked.

“She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in the lake. She’s as safe out there as in her own bathtub.” He explained.

“So, no splashing? No sign of distress?” Sam asked.

“No, that’s what I’m telling you.” he shook his head.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” Sam questioned.

“No, again, she was really far out there,” he replied.

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” you asked.

“No, never. Why? What do you think is out there?” Will asked.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we know,” you gave him a small smile, as you and Dean started walking off.

“What about your father?” Sam asked. You and Dean stopped, turning to Sam. 

“Can we talk to him?” Sam asked. You didn’t want to talk to his father. The sight of him already wanted to make you cry.

“Look, if you don’t mind, I mean, he didn’t see anything, and he’s kind of been through a lot,” Will explained.

“We understand,” Sam nodded and the three of you walked back to the Impala.

——-

“Now, I’m sorry, but why does the wildlife service care about an accidental driving?” the sheriff asked, walking all three of you to his office.

“You sure it’s accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister,” Sam explained.

“Like what? Here, sit, please,” he said, motioning to three chairs across from his desk.

“There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake,” he said.

“There’s nothing even big enough to pull a person unless it was the loch ness monster,” the sheriff tried to joke not knowing how far off he might not be.

“Yeah, right,” Dean said, shooting us a look.

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still, we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep just to be sure, and still there was nothing down there,” he explained.

“That’s weird, though. I mean that’s the third missing body this year,” you said.

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about,” the sheriff sighed.

“I know,” Dean said.

“Anyways, all this. It won’t be a problem much longer,” the sheriff crossed his arms.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Well, the dam, of course,” the sheriff said.

You looked to Sam and Dean.

“Of course, the dam, it uhhh, it sprung a leak,” Dean said.

“It’s falling apart, and the feds won’t give us the grand to repair it, so they’ve opened the spillway. In 6 months, there won’t be much of a lake. There won’t be much of a town either, but as federal wildlife, you already knew that” the sheriff said.

“Exactly,” Dean replied.

“Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later,” you heard a voice from behind you.

You all turned around and noticed a smiling woman. The three of you stood up, ready to introduce yourself.

“Agents, this is my daughter,” the sheriff said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean,” Dean smiled, shaking her hand.

“Andrea Bar. Hi,” she smiled.

“Hi,” Dean whispered.

“They’re from the wildlife service, about the lake,” he explained.

She looked taken aback, “Oh,” she said softly.

You noticed a small kid behind her.

“Oh, hey! What’s your name?” You gave him a friendly smile. You’ve always loved kids and you’ve always been good with them. You guessed you were so good with them because Dean was so good with you.

He looked at the three of you before turning around and walking away. Andrea looked at us before following after him.

“His name is Lucas.” The sheriff said.

You continued to watch as you saw Andrea sit hand him crayons.

“Is he okay?” Sam asked.

“My grandson’s been through a lot, we all have.” He replied, walking to his office doors and opening them for you to leave.

“If there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” He said.

“Thanks,” Dean said motioning you to walk in front of him. He guided you out and were met with Andrea again.

You let Dean have a moment with her because you could tell he wanted to flirt with her. You were more than okay with that though. She was so pretty and from what you could tell was incredibly sweet. She wasn’t like the waitresses who threw themselves at your brother.

He asked Andrea for directions and somehow got her to walk us there. You were walking next to Sam behind Dean and Andrea when you both overheard Dean, “Kids are the best huh?”

You and Sam both looked at each other and smirked.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks,” she said, turning to face the three of you.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled.

“Must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line,” she said smirking at Dean as she walked away.

“Enjoy your stay!” She laughed. You liked her, she was funny.

You and Sam turned to each other snorting and holding in your laughs.

Sam turned to Dean, “ ‘Kids are the best’? You don’t even like kids,” Sam said flabbergasted.

“I love kids,” Dean said.

“Name three children that you even know,” Sam said. He saw Dean about to open his mouth when he added, “and you can’t say Y/N.”

Dean sighed and pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair. “I so can say Y/N.”

You pushed him away chuckling, “I’m 16!” You whined.

“You’ll always be a kid to me, kid.” Dean smirked. You shook your head smiling and playfully bumped into him.

He put his arm around you and the three of you walked into the motel.

——-

“So, there’s the three drowning victims this year,” Sam started.

“And before that?” Dean asked.

You sat next to Sam as he clicked through old news articles from his laptop.

“Uhhh yeah, six more, spread out over the past 35 years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it’s picking up its pace,” Sam sighed leaning back in his chair.

“So, we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean asked.

“This whole lake monster theory, it just bugs me,” Sam sighed.

“Why?” you asked. Dean stood behind Sam.

“Loch Ness, uhh Lake Champlain - there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts. But here, almost nothing. Whatever it is out there, no one’s living to talk about it.” Sam sighed. He opened up a list of victims. 

Dean squinted his eyes and pointed to the screen, “wait , Bar, Christopher Bar. Where have I heard that name before?” Dean asked, pointing to the screen.

Sam clicked the link on the article and it was a picture of Lucas. His hair and clothes were wet and he was wrapped in a towel.

“Christopher Bar was Andreas husband, Lucas’ father. Apperently he took Lucas out swimming, Lucas was on a wooden floating platform when Chris drowned. It took two hours before the kid go rescued.” Sam read off and zoomed in on Lucas’ photo.

You frowned. That poor kid, you thought. He must have been terrified.

“Maybe we have an eye witness after all,” Sam stated.

“That’s just terrible! No wonder he was so freaked out,” you said sympathetically.

“Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over,” Dean stated.

You snapped your head in his direction. Something about that sentence just resonated with you. You knew he was most likely talking about your mother, but the way he said it made you think that he thought your dad was dead in a ditch somewhere.

You watched him closely and when he noticed you looking at him, he sent you a soft smile.

——-

“Can we join you?” Sam asked, spotting Andrea sitting on a bench.

“I’m here with my son,” she smiled.

“Oh, mind if I say hi?” you said, walking to him.

Sam and Dean sat next to Andrea, talking to her.

“Hey buddy! How’s it going?” you asked, squatting down to his level.

He continued sitting there, drawing when you noticed a bunch of toy soldiers next to him.

You chuckled, “my brothers used to play with these and then they passed them down to me” You smiled at the memory.

He continued to draw, ignoring you.

You sighed, sitting next to him. 

“So you like to draw?” You asked smiling down at him looking at his drawings.

“Wow these are pretty good! You could be an artist when you grow up.” You said grabbing paper and a crayon to join him.

“I always wanted to be an artist growing up,” you said softly.

He continued to ignore you.

“You know, I think that you can hear me, you just don’t wanna talk and that’s alright buddy,” you started.

“I don’t know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something really bad. I think I know how you feel,” you said empathetically.

“I’ve been through it too.” You signed.

“Anyway, we’ll, maybe you don’t think anyone will listen to you, or uhh believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don’t even have to say anything, you could just draw a picture of what you saw that day, with your Dad on the lake,” you said.

He continued to draw.

“Okay, no problem. This is for you,” you gave him your drawing. It was of your family that you loved so much and wished we’re together.

“I think it’s a pretty good drawing if I do say so myself,” you chuckled.

“I’ll see you around Lukas,” you stood up to leave, giving him a pat on his head before walking away.

You walked over to your brothers and Andrea.

“Lucas hasn’t said a word, not even to me, not since the accident,” Andrea sighed.

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” Dean said.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asked.

“That it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she sighed.

“That can’t be easy for either of you,” You said softly feeling bad for her family.

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot,” Andrea nodded.

 She looked back at Dean.

“It’s just… when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw….” Andrea said softly.

“Yeah, kids are strong. You’d be surprised with what they can deal with,” Dean gave a soft smile, glancing to you.

“I just wish…. oh hey, sweetie,” Andrea said, as Lucas walked up.

He handed you a drawing of a cabin.

“Thanks!” You gave him an encouraging smile.

He continued looking down and walked away.

——

“So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie,” Sam said, walking into the hotel room.

“What do you mean?” you asked as Sam sat next to you and Dean.

“I just drove past the Carlton House. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead,” Sam said.

You gasped putting your hand over your mouth.

This was awful and now their father had lost both children.

“He drowned?” Dean asked.

“Yep, in the sink,” Sam replied.

“Oh my gosh, what?” you said, sighing.

“So, this isn’t a creature. We’re dealing with something else.” Dean said.

“Yeah, but what?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. A water wraith maybe? Some kind of demon?” Dean suggested.

“Maybe it’s a spirit,” you said.

“Well we do know one thing. It has to do with Bill Carlton. I mean it took both of his children.” Sam said.

“Yeah, he has to be involved somehow,” Dean started.

“Wait, I’ve been asking around,” Sam said glancing at both of you.

“Lucas’ dad, was Bill Carlton’s godson,” Sam pointed out.

“Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.” Dean said standing up.

——

You saw Mr, Carlton in the same spot you saw him at last time. Sitting on the dock staring into the water. This time having lost both children. Your heart hurt for the man even more. This was so sad.

“Mr.Carlton? We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind,” Sam said, as you walked up to him.

“We’re with the department of-” Dean started.

“I don’t care which department you’re with. I’ve answered enough questions today,” he replied hastily.

“Mr.Carlton, your son said he saw something in that lake,” you started.

He continued staring out into the water.

“What about you? Have you ever seen anything out there?” You asked him softly trying to understand his pain.

“My children are gone, it’s worse than dying.” He said. “Please leave.”

You all nodded and walked away.

“He’s defientely been through hell, but I think he’s hiding something.” Dean stated.

Walking to the car, something just didn’t feel right to you. You glanced up and noticed the cabin

“Huh,” you started, pulling out the drawing Lucas drew, “Maybe Bill’s not the only one who knows something.” You finished, matching the cabin to Lucas’ drawing.

——

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Andrea said.

“I just need to talk to him, for a few minutes,” you said.

“He won’t say anything, What good’s it gonna do?” she argued.

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt,” Sam explained.

“We think something’s out there,” Dean said.

“My husband, the others. They just drowned, that’s all,” she said, getting upset.

“If you truly believe that, then we’ll go,” Dean started.

“But if you think there’s even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to Lucas.” You finished Dean’s words. 

——

“Hey, buddy. Do you remember me?” you asked, taking a seat next to him.

He didn’t acknowledge you and continued to draw. You noticed his drawings, all of them were the same red bike.

“I just wanted to thank you for your last drawing, but I need your help again,” you said.

You took out the cabin drawing from your pocket and showed him.

“How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen?” He continued drawing.

“Maybe you could nod your head yes or no for me,” you offered.

“You’re scared,” you noticed.

“It’s okay, I understand. I get scared too you know. I’ve seen some bad things happen and I was scared too. It’s alright to be scared, but it also helps to be brave. I try my best to be brave. It’s what helps me-“ He cut you off, handing you another drawing. It had the red bike, a boy, a church, and another house. 

“Thanks, buddy,” you smiled, taking the drawing and standing up.

“Thank you, Andrea,” you said, as the three of you walked off.

“You’re so good with Lucas, Y/N/N,” Dean said coming from behind you and rubbing your back.

You smiled softly, “I learned from the best.” You said, glancing at him.

He looked at you confused, “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“I’m just so lucky to have you De. With dad gone, you’re the only person who hasn’t left my side my entire life. You’re the only constant and you raised me. I’m good with kids because your my role model.” You said.

Dean stopped walking and pulled you back into his chest. “Hey, everything’s going to be alright.” He said, hugging you, knowing you were feeling the effects of your dad being gone.

“I love you kid,” He gave you a big squeeze before letting you go.

“I love you too.”

The three of you got into the car and drove off.

—-

You looked over the drawing that Lucas gave you.

“Okay, so we have another house to find,” Sam said.

“There’s about a thousand yellow two-stories, houses in this county alone,” Dean groaned.

“See the church? I bet there’s less than a thousand of those around here,” you sassed.

Sam chuckled while Dean sent you a bitch face.

—-

You arrived in front of the church and found the little yellow house just like the drawing showed.

The three of you walked up to the house, knocking on the door. An elderly lady answered and invited you all in.

“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am, but does a little boy live here by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle,” Dean asked her.

“No, sir. Not for a very long time. Peter’s been gone 35 years now,” she sighed.

“The police never…. I never had any idea what happened,” she explained, looking at a photo of him.

“He just disappeared,” she turned to the three of you. The pain in her voice made you want to cry. The elderly always got you good.

“Losing him, its, you know, it’s worse than dying,” she said shakily. You turned away as a tear slid down your cheek. You wiped it as fast as you could and turned back to her.

She looked down at the floor crying, reliving the memory of her son. You started gnawing on your lip so the tears didn’t start flowing again.

You decided to speak up to distract yourself. “Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” You asked.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up,” she replied. You nodded your head softly and looked around the room. You noticed a picture of Peter and another boy in the mirror.

You stared at the photo and then turned it over. 

“Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970,” you read out loud.  

You all glanced at each other, connecting more of the dots.

“Thank you so much for your time, ma’am. And I’m very sorry for your loss.” You added as the three of you headed out the door.

——

“Okay so this little boy, Peter, vanishes and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow,” You started.

“Yeah, it kinda seemed like he was hiding something,” Dean replied.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they’re all getting punished,” you said.

“So maybe Bill killed him?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, Peter’s spirit would be furious. I’d want revenge, it’s possible,” Dean agreed.

Dean drove down the now familiar road, back to the Carlton house. As the three of you got out of the car, you started looking for him.

“Mr, Calrton!” Sam yelled.

“Uhhhh guys,” you said, seeing Mr. Carlton on a boat, going out in the water.

“Crap,” Dean said as you all took off to the dock, yelling for Mr. Carlton to turn back.

“Mr. Carlton! You need to come back! Turn around!” You shouted.

“Turn the boat around! Get out of the water!” Dean and Sam yelled.

He looked back at the three of you and turned back around. He continued out and you saw what looked like an explosion. The boat was thrown airborne, being shot up into the sky. The three of you jumped and Dean tucked you into him trying to shield you from the loose pieces flying off. The impact threw Bill from the boat as it came crashing down on top of him and the lake swallowed everything up like it never even happened.

Dean was breathing heavily, “Damn it.” He said, letting you go.

—-

The three of you walked into the police station and saw Andrea sitting with Lucas. You noticed he looked incredibly upset.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N,” Andrea said, surprised to see you three.

“What are you doing here?” the sheriff asked her.

“I brought you dinner,” she replied.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I just don’t really have the time,” he sighed.

She looked at the three of you and then back to her dad.

“I heard about Bill Carlton, is it true? Is something going on with the lake?” Andrea asked.

“Right now, we don’t know what the truth is, but I think it might be better if you and Lucas went home,” the sheriff said.

Lucas’ head shot up, he looked absolutely terrified. He ran to you, pulling on your sleeve.

“Lucas, hey. What is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, squatting down to be eye level with him.

He was staring you in the eyes almost like he was pleading with you. He continued to freak out and pull you.

“Lucas, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Andrea said, trying to pull him away from you.

“Hey, hey, Lucas. It’s okay,” you said rubbing his arm.

Andrea rushed him out of the police station. He turned back to you and continued his pleading look. You knew something was wrong.

You watched him leave, looking concerned before noticing the sheriff storm into his office obviously stressed out. The three of you followed behind him.

“Okay, just so we’re clear. You see…. something attack Bill’s boat, sending him, who is a very good swimmer by the way, into the drink and you never see him again?” The sheriff asked.

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Dean replied.

“And I’m supposed to believe this even though I’ve already sonar swept that entire lake and what you’re describing is impossible and you’re not really wildlife service,” he added.

Uh oh. How did he find out?

“That’s right, I checked. The departments never heard of you three,” he said, crossing his arms.

“See, now we can explain that,” Dean started, looking at you and Sam for an answer.

“Enough, please. The only reason you’re breathing free air is one of Bill’s neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton’s disappearance, or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you can get in your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don’t ever darken my doorstep again,” he said, raising his voice.

This was serious and you were getting kind of scared by his threats.

You looked at Sam.

“Door number two sounds good,” Sam replied. You and Dean nodded in agreement. 

“That’s the one I’d pick,” the sheriff practically growled.

——

As you were making your way out of town you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Lucas was terrified and he was looking at you for help. You had to check on him.

“Dean, please. We need to go back,” you begged him.

“Y/N/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We told the sheriff we’re leaving,” Sam sighed.

“I know something is wrong! Please you saw his face, he was terrified!” You exclaimed.

“Please, let’s just check on him and then we can leave and never come back to this town ever again.” You said, trying to reason with your brothers.

Dean froze for a minute and turned right, going back into the town.

——

You walked up to Andrea’s front door with Sam and Dean.

“Are you sure about this?” Dean asked you, but trusting you completely.

Before you even had the chance to ring the doorbell, the door swung open. It was Lucas.

“Lucas? What’s wrong?” you said, panicking noticing that he was hyperventilating.

He ran up the stairs and pointed to a door that had water leaking from under it.

He started banging at the door. You pulled into you as Dean kicked the door open. He and Sam ran into the bathroom and pulled Andrea from the bathtub she was drowning in. You were hugging Lucas, trying to get him to calm down.

——

Sam was talking to Andrea as you and Dean tried finding some answers. It definitely wasn’t an accident that Peter went after Andrea.

You were looking through their books when you found one that had “Jake - 12 years old” on the cover.

You opened it and your eyes widened when you saw a picture of an old boy scout troop.

With the sheriff, and Bill Carlton.

“Dean,” you called out to him.

“Yeah,” he replied.

You tossed him the book.

—-

“Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” Dean asked Andrea as he put the book on the table in front of her.

“What? Uh, no, except that’s my dad, right there. He must’ve been around 12 in these pictures.” She said looking at the photos.

“The connection wasn’t to Bill Carlton. It must’ve been to the sheriff,” Dean stated, looking between you and Sam.

“Bill and the sheriff, they were both involved with Peter,” Sam said.

You glanced to the side and saw Lucas looking out the window. Something was wrong.

“Lucas? Lucas, what is it?” You asked him.

He turned to the door, opened it and walked out. You all followed behind him.

“Lucas? Honey?” Andrea called from behind him.

He came to a halt in the middle of the yard and looked up at you.

You glanced at Dean.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there.” Dean told Andrea.

Andrea nodded and pulled Lucas away.

The three of you took your shovels and started digging into the dirt. You heard a clang as you hit something.

You looked up at Sam and Dean before they pulled whatever it was out of the ground. 

It was a rusty, red bike. It was Peter’s red bike.

“Peter’s bike,” Sam said, out of breath.

“Who are you?” You heard the sheriff’s voice from behind you. The three of you turned around as he cocked his gun. Your heart dropped.

Immediately, Dean stepped in front of you, grabbing your arm and keeping you steadily behind him. He didn’t let you go, “wow, wow, hey.” He said to the sheriff trying to get him to put his gun down.

Sam glanced at you and then looked back at the sheriff.

“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam said as he raised his hands up.

“How did you know that was there?” He asked, still pointing the gun.

“What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and buried his bike?” Dean asked.

“You can’t bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.” Dean finished still keeping you behind him.

Your heart was pounding. You’ve never had a gun pointed at you before.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about?” The sheriff said, starting to get even more frustrated.

Holy crap, he was going to shoot one of you. He was seething with anger. You were so scared and knew you were trembling. You knew Dean could feel you shaking too because he gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney 35 years ago. That’s what the hell we’re talking about,” Dean replied.

“Dad!” Andrea yelled, running up to all of you.

“And now you’ve got one seriously pissed off spirit,” Dean explained.

“It’s gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It’s gonna drown them. It’s gonna drag their bodies to God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then, after that, it’s gonna take you, and it’s not gonna stop until it does,” Sam said.

“And how do you know that?” He asked.

“Because that’s exactly what it did to Bill Carlton,” Sam said.

“Listen to yourselves. You’re insane,” he said, continuing with the gun.

“We don’t really give a rat’s ass what you think of us, but if we’re gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them to dust,” Dean said.

“Now tell me you buried him. Tell me you didn’t just let him go into the lake,” He continued.

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea asked, her voice shaky.

“No, don’t listen to them. They’re liars and they’re dangerous,” the sheriff said.

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me,” Andrea yelled.

You peaked around Dean. Where was Lucas?

“Tell me you- tell me you didn’t kill anyone,” Andrea begged.

The sheriff sighed.

“Oh my God,” Andrea whispered in disbelief.

“Peter was the smallest one so we used to bully him. We held him under water a little too long and he drowned. We let go of his body and he floated into it. It was a mistake Andrea, we were kids. But to say I had something to do with these drownings because of some ghost? It’s not rational.” He pleaded with his daughter.

“Where’s Lucas?” You blurred out from behind Dean.

You heard Andrea gasp and look behind you. You turned behind you and saw Lucas by the water.

“Lucas!” You yelled as you all ran towards him.

As you got closer to him, you saw something pull him in and under.

“Oh my God!” Andrea cried.

You ran harder and pushed ahead. Once you got to the dock, you dove into the water. Dean dove in after you and Sam turned to Andrea.

“Andrea, stay there,” Sam yelled before diving in after you and Dean.

You swam and swam, pushing yourself all the way to the bottom of the lake trying to find Lucas. You couldn’t see anything because the lake was murky and your vision was blurry from the water. You felt around frantic at the bottom of the lake when you felt your lungs burning. You swam up and took in a huge breathe when you got above the water. You looked towards your brothers hoping that one of them had Lucas, but they were both empty handed.

You dove back down determined to save Lucas. You swam in the opposite direction when you see a blurry figure. You swam down ignoring the burning of your lungs that were begging for air and grab his arm. It was Lucas! You tried pulling him up, but had no luck. That’s when you noticed Peter below him, pulling him down. He didn’t care about you though, he just wanted Lucas so you kicked him in the head a few times. To your surprise it worked.

Peter let go of his hold on Lucas and you were able to yank him up. You pushed your legs harder, swimming up with Lucas. You were running out of energy and your whole body burned. You finally got to the top and clung onto the dock with Lucas in your other arm.

Dean was right there and pulled himself onto the dock, grabbing Lucas from your arms. You let out a gasp and was finally able to breathe. Your big gulp of air was cut short when you felt something grab your leg and pull you back under.

You panicked which was just about one of the worst things to do, but you weren’t prepared to be brought back down under the water. You were surviving off of a half breathe of oxygen and could feel your lungs start to burn. You thrashed at Peter, definitely not conserving your energy and definitely not doing what you were supposed to be doing during a situation like this. You couldn’t help, but panic. You didn’t want to die! You felt Peter drag you further and you let out a scream, bubbles floating above your head. You could feel your limbs growing heavier and your fight grow weaker.

As you were slipping away into nothingness, you felt Peter’s hold loosen and then disappear. Hope flooded over you as you felt arms around you pulling you back to the surface, but your lungs won and you took in a huge breath of water and everything went black.

Dean broke the surface with you and noticed how limp you were. This time Sam pulled himself onto the dock and grabbed you from Dean’s arms. He laid you down on the dock and immediately started CPR. Dean pulled himself over the dock and cradled your head, “Come on kid,” Dean cried as Sam was performing CPR on you, “Come on!” He was wiping your hair from your face as Sam continued trying to save your life.

“Wake up, let me see those big brown eyes that I love so much, yeah? Come on kiddo,” He pleaded.

Just as Sam finished a breath, you jolted to the side coughing up water and gasping for air. Sam sat back in relief, trying to catch his breath as Dean reached to pat you on the back.

“That’s it kid, that it. It’s alright, cough it all out.” He said. “You’re okay, your okay.” He reassured you as he noticed tears streaming down your face.

Your body was weak with exhaustion so you collapsed onto your back and took in one deep breath. The near death experience definitely traumatizing you as you looked at your brothers shivering. As Dean was taking off his leather jacket, you saw Lucas in Andreas arms and you softly smiled knowing you saved him.

“Hey bug I’m going to pick you up alright?” Sam asked you.

You looked up at him and nodded.

As he pulled you up, Dean handed him his jacket and Sam wrapped you up in it.

You were freezing cold and trembling in Sam’s arms as he walked to the car. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. I got you Y/N/N and I would never let anything happen to you. And neither would Dean. Ever.” He softly spoke. He knew that this was terrifying for you and his heart broke. You were just a kid.

Dean started the car and blasted the heat. Sam laid you in the backseat wrapped in Dean’s jacket and then took his own jacket off. He placed it on top of you and sent you a soft smile.

They both got in the car and drove back to the motel. Dean glanced back at you multiple times through the rear view mirror making sure that you were still okay.

——

The three of you walked to the Impala from the motel, getting ready to leave this town behind.

“Y/N, Sam, Dean,” you heard Andrea call out.

You turned around, seeing her and Lucas. “Hey!” You smiled seeing him.

“We just made you some lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself,” she smiled down at Lucas.

“Can I give it to them now?” He asked. You smiled even bigger seeing that he was talking now.

“Of course,” Andrea replied.

“Well, let’s go load these into the car, yeah?” You reached out to Lucas to hold his hand. He grabbed it and you walked off together. Sam trailed behind you, giving Dean and Angela some privacy.

——-

“Alright, now that you’re talking, you have to remember this phrase. I want you to repeat it back to me,” you told him.

“Zeppelin rules!” he exclaimed.

“That’s right! Up high,” you gave him a double high five and chuckled.

Sam was looking at you smiling. You were an exact replica of Dean.

“Take care of yourself, Lucas,” you said and gave him a quick hug.

You looked to the side and saw Andrea give Dean a kiss.

You smiled and looked back at Lucas. 

“It looks like we’re leaving now. Stay brave, kiddo,” you said. He nodded, running off to Andrea.

“Let’s hit the road. We’re gonna run out of daylight,” Dean said, walking to the front seat.

“You’re blushing,” you teased.

“Shut up,” He chuckled and shook his head. All three of you got into the car.

“She was pretty, I liked her!” You said as Dean drove off leaving Andrea and Lucas in the distance.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 39

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,885ish

Summary: You don't leave El Paso. You and Logan begin to interact more.

Warning(s): bars, drunk men, tears, heartbreak

Notes: Well, let's see how this goes... I promise they'll stop walking away from each other. The next chapter will have more of the Logan movie.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You couldn’t get yourself to leave El Paso, not yet, anyway. You were still angry at Logan, but you could see the pain he was in, and you couldn’t walk away completely from him. You found yourself a motel room to stay for a while. The first night, your dreams were full of Logan. All the happy memories that now only made your heart break further. When you woke, you were crying. Your right hand went to your left to play with your wedding ring, only for you to find that it was no longer there.

Without a care to how you looked, you rushed out of your room and sped to the diner. You frantically searched through the dirt for your ring. Tears fell into the dirt as you failed to find it. You went into the diner and up to one of the waitresses behind the counter.

“Has anyone turned in a wedding ring?” You asked.

“No, sorry, dear,” she responded. “Haven’t seen one.”

You nodded and walked out. You stared at the area where you and Logan had words just hours before. It had already felt like your whole relationship was slipping through your fingers; now, you didn’t even have your ring. You didn’t have Logan’s dog tags either, having lost them years ago. All you were left with were your memories, but even they were tainted under this haze of darkness that the two of you were experiencing. With a shaky breath, you walked back to your car.

You failed to notice a familiar pair of hazel eyes following you. Logan sat in his limo, parked across the street, as you got back into your car. It didn’t shock him that you had stayed in town. His large, rough right hand opened up to reveal your wedding ring sitting in the palm of it. He maneuvered it to move it from finger to finger as he watched you drive away.

Logan remembered that you had thrown your ring between the two of you after a long night of work. He couldn’t bear the thought of it sitting in the dirt. The ring was too important and symbolized too much. So he grabbed it before anyone else could. Logan pressed the ring to his chest, where burns were still healing from your attack the previous day. This was the first time your burns ever hurt him like this. But he did not hold any blame toward you. You had every right to attack him the way you did. Logan believed he deserved every bit of your anger and hatred.

~~~

That night, you decided to go to the nearby bar. Not to stalk Logan, but to get yourself a drink. You were three drinks in when a man slid into the seat beside you.

“Hey, pretty lady,” his words slurred together. He leaned in closer, allowing you to smell his breath and body odor. “You new in town? I haven’t ever seen you around here.”

“Just passing through,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on your glass as your finger ran circles around the rim.

“Well, wanna pass through my way?”

“I’m…” 

The word ‘married’ sat on your tongue, but you couldn’t get yourself to say it. Your eyes shifted over to the finger on your left hand that once proudly carried your ring. Logan had reminded you that you weren’t actually married, so could you really use that as an excuse?

“I’m not interested,” you said instead. 

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he moved closer, placing a hand on your back.  “Give me a chance.”

You studied the man out of the corner of your eye. In all honesty, if he didn’t sink and looked a little better, you might have taken him up on the offer. But not tonight. You wanted to be alone. 

“I’m good.” 

You finished off your drink before throwing some cash down on the bar. You headed out of the bar, trying to ignore the fact that the man was following. Having walked to the bar, you knew that it was too dangerous to head there if the man followed you. You couldn’t get very far out the door anyway before the man grabbed your wrist and pinned you against the wall.

“It’s not kind to walk away like that,” he slurred.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the man was torn off of you before you could.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Logan snarled, glaring down at the man. He was dropping off a bachelorette party when he saw you exit the bar and the man touch you.

There was a time when you would have been grateful for Logan intervening, but now it only made you angry. As Logan scared the man, you walked away, starting down the street like nothing happened.

“Hey!” Logan called, limping after you. “Y/N! Get in the car.”

You continued walking. “I thought you wanted me to walk away? So let me walk away.” He finally caught up with you, catching your wrist and forcing you to turn around. “Let go of me.” You tried to tug your wrist from his grip, but he only tightened it. “I don’t need your help, Logan. I had it handled.”

“Oh, I know you would have set the man on fire, but that’s too risky.”

“I can be subtle.”

Logan scoffed. “Whatever you say, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

“No.” You dug your feet into the ground.

“Yes. I’m dropping you off at the airport. You are leaving.”

“You’re not the boss of me. Hell, you reminded me yesterday that you’re not even my husband. Now let go!” 

You heated up your arm, forcing Logan to let go with a groan. Logan stuffed his hand in his pocket quickly so that you weren’t able to see the burn and blisters from your heat.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” You questioned.

“I have time to get you to the airport,” he responded.

“Too bad I’m not going to the airport. I’m going back to my motel.”

“Then let me drive you.”

“Oh, so you can trick me into going to the airport? No thanks. Besides, my motel is right here.”

You turned on your heel and continued walking. Logan followed, not willing to let you walk back alone. You ignored him as you reached your motel and walked to the door of your room. Logan looked around, surveying the motel. It clearly wasn’t the best or even safest. He immediately noticed, as you opened the door, that it didn’t even sit right on its hinges, leaving a gap at the bottom.

“This place isn’t safe,” he murmured.

“I can handle myself,” you retorted. “Besides, I don’t have much money. It’s all I can afford.”

“What about the house?”

The house. The one that sat in the Canadian Rockies that the two of you haven’t visited in almost five years.

“Lost it when the government believed you were keeping Charles there… I’ve been on the streets, figuring it out.”

“What?”

“Don’t be so shocked. Where did you think I’d go? The mansion? Without everyone… it wouldn’t be the same. Besides, there are whispers that the government is after me to get to Charles. I’m not safe anywhere. Except on the run and on the streets.” You glanced back at him, the guilt shining in his eyes. You did what you could to make it worse, not caring how childish it was. “Just another promise you failed to keep…. Or, I guess, you chose to break.”

The scene from fifty-five years ago played out in real-time in Logan’s mind. How he had reached out for your hand, begging you to come with him and promising you a bed, clothes, food, and that you’d never be on the streets. Now, here you were… and Logan had to blame himself.

“Y/N…”

“Just go, Logan. I don’t have the energy to deal with this anymore tonight.”

“You shouldn’t be staying here.”

“Well, where are you staying?” Logan looked away, not willing to answer the question. “That’s what I thought.” You walked over to the door. “Goodnight, Logan.” 

Logan didn’t move as you shut the door in his face. He stood there for a moment, fighting with himself on whether or not to take you with him. You didn’t deserve this life you were forced into, but it’s not like the smelting plant he, Charles, and his mutant helper, Caliban, were living in was any better. With a sigh, he left, heading back to the bar and his limousine. 

~~~

The next night, you found yourself at the bar again, silently hoping that Logan would make an appearance. When you were finished drinking for the night, you left the bar to find Logan leaning against his limo. You decided against talking to him, instead heading for your motel. Logan silently followed, not ever too far behind. He stopped in the parking lot and watched as you slipped into your motel. He stayed until the lights were off, and then he headed back to the limo. This became the routine for the next eight days.

You were about to run out of money. So, instead of going to the bar for the night, you stayed in to go over your options. 

Logan was getting worried. You were an hour late in making your appearance outside the bar. With a huff, he walked in and searched the bar for you. Only to not be able to find you. His heart began pounding as he grew concerned. Logan hopped into his limo and drove over to your motel. He couldn’t help but rush over to your door and knock loudly.

“Y/N! Are you in there?” He worried. With furrowed brows, you went over and opened the door. He felt little relief when he saw you standing there. “You weren’t at the bar.”

“I’ve been busy,” you replied with a shrug, not trying to overthink the fact that he was worried about you.

“Are you okay?”

You debated for a moment on whether or not to tell him the truth. “I’m running out of money. I needed to figure out where it was coming from next.”

Logan hated how fast his heart dropped. He had promised to keep you safe from this life, and he had failed. “How much do you need?”

“I’m not taking your money, Logan. I can figure it out just fine.”

“Just tell me how much.”

“No. You can’t swoop in and save the day… Not when you’re the one who wanted this.”

“Y/N—“

“Goodnight, Logan.”

You slammed the door in his face.

~~~

“I know you’ve seen her,” Charles stated as he watered the plants that sat in the tank that he was never allowed to leave.

“Who?” Logan questioned, pretending to be clueless as he readied Charles’ meds.

“Y/N… I don’t understand why you can’t just bring her here.”

“She’s safer out there.”

“Clearly not.”

“She’s fine.”

“Does the reason that you won’t bring her here have anything to do with the reason we’re here?”

“Charles—“

“Y/N and I deserve the truth.”

“Y/N knows the truth.”

“And I don’t?”

“Here.” Logan shoved the medication into Charles’ hand. “Take. Now.” Charles swallowed the pills down quickly. “Open.” 

Charles stuck his tongue out and opened his mouth wide to prove to Logan that he’d taken the pills. Once Logan was done, he headed for the door.

“You are miserable, Logan,” Charles stated, causing the man to pause. “She’s miserable, too… Hell, we all are. But the two of you might as well be miserable together.”

“You don’t understand,” Logan muttered.

“You’re correct, I don’t. I don’t understand how you can watch the person you love suffer like the way Y/N is. If you truly love her, you’d make sure she’s taken care of.”

“Get some sleep, Charles.”

~~~

Logan hated that Charles was right, even when his mind was deteriorating. You were not protected or safe as long as you didn’t have a home. You were the only thing on his mind as he finished an Uber ride and headed to the diner to get some food. He sat down in his usual spot and glanced around. He froze as you walked over to him in a waitress's uniform.

“What are you doing?” He wondered.

“Well, hello to you, too, Logan,” you replied. “I needed money. The diner needed another waitress.”

“So, you’re sticking around?”

“Until a better offer comes around, I plan on being here for a long time.”

~~~

Logan made it a new routine to come to the diner for lunch. Sometimes you were working, sometimes you weren’t. When you were there, the two of you would barely talk outside of him ordering food, which he didn’t have to do since you already knew what he liked. Logan would watch with observant eyes at your every movement and interaction. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew you weren’t okay. But he knew that you could tell the same thing about him. The two of you never handled it well, being apart from each other. But, about two weeks after you started the job, Logan could tell that something was weighing you down.

“What’s wrong?” He quietly asked as you set down his food.

“Nothing,” you responded.

“Y/N.” He grabbed your hand. “Talk to me.”

“Let go of me, Logan.”

“Just tell me.”

“Let go.” 

You heated up your skin, burning his hand and forcing him to let go. Logan bit back a pained moan as you spun around to take care of another customer. Logan stood up and limped to the restroom, running your hand under the cold sink water. You noticed as Logan exited the restroom and sat back down. You saw that the hand that he had grabbed you with was resting on his lap, palm up. Slowly, you got closer, eyes never leaving his hand. You gasped as you saw the not-healing burn. Logan’s eyes snapped up at your gasp.

“Did I… Did I hurt you?” You questioned. You had never seen something like this happen to Logan. Every burn you had ever caused him had healed. This wasn’t.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” Logan told you.

“Oh my gosh… Logan…” You reached down with trembling hands and took his injured hand. “I… I hurt you.”

Logan’s heart cracked as you took the blame for the burn. “It’s not your fault, honey.”

“Yes, it is.” You tugged his arm. “Come with me.”

“Y/N—“

“Come.”

Logan sighed and followed you. You kept a hold of his wrist as you led him through the kitchen and into the small back office. You dropped his wrist before you closed the door and grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sit,” you gently ordered.

Logan didn’t bother fighting, sitting down in the chair. He watched you as you gathered the needed items. You gently took his hand and rested it on the desk. Then you got the burn cream and carefully applied it over the burn. Once it was all covered, you wrapped his hand and pressed a kiss over the wrap. You set Logan’s hand down in his lap before your hands went to his face, holding it delicately. Your thumbs rubbed up against his full gray beard as you studied his face. His wrinkles, his eyes, the tiny scars.

“What’s happening to you, Logan?” You whispered.

Logan’s hands slowly came up to your hips, barely holding you there. “I’m fine, baby.”

“No, you’re not… just tell me what’s wrong… Please.”

Logan’s uninjured hand ran up your side until he was cradling your head in his large palm. He gently guided your head down until your lips were barely not touching. You both closed your eyes as you allowed yourselves to feel the weight of this moment and everything that had happened before this. Logan inhaled sharply when he felt a tear fall to his cheek, and he knew it wasn’t his.

“Please don’t cry, honey,” he quietly begged.

“What’s happened to us?” You cried. “What’s happening?”

As your tears turned into sobs, Logan quickly pulled you into his lap and held you there.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he comforted. “I’m here.”

“But you’re not,” you sobbed. Logan could feel his own tears burning in the back of his eyes. “You left… everyone died… and I… I miss you… I miss you so much it hurts… but it doesn’t matter because you’re just gonna tell me to walk away… and maybe this time I will.”

“Don’t.” The word came out before Logan could stop it. “Don’t walk away… please.”

“You’ve hurt me so much.”

“I know, baby, I know. And I will never forgive myself for any of it, and I don’t ever expect your forgiveness. But don’t leave.”

“Then take me to your home, Logan.”

“I can’t do that, honey. It’s too dangerous.”

“I can handle it.”

“I can’t… Charles isn’t stable, and I can’t find you that way again… You were bleeding so much and unresponsive… I won’t let that happen again.”

“Then I guess there’s my choice.” You pulled yourself away from Logan and stood up. “I have to finish my shift.”

You walked out of the office without another word, leaving Logan wondering if this could ever be fixed.

next chapter >

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 2)

A/N: Soooooo I couldn't help myself. Ya'll really showed me love on part one and it encouraged me to write this part. I'll admit this isn't my favorite piece of writing but it's necessary cause it sets up part 3😅 Give me a few days at least for that one though. Hope y'all like it. 18+/Minors DNI

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Song I listened to while writing: Back To Love by Robert Glasper featuring SiR and Alex Isley.

Prompt: It's been six months since Armando left Shay but things feel unfinished for him.

Warnings ⚠️: Talk of smut (y'all I can't write that shit, I tried and it was trash so I just talk around it)

Armando was only supposed to be in LA for a couple days. He was still a wanted man and he didn’t exactly enjoy putting himself at risk of being caught, but it was unavoidable. A contact had needed a job done and since being on the run, he wasn’t afforded the option of being picky when it came to money. Besides, Martinez had been helpful in getting him jobs so he considered the extra risk a favor.

Nobody wanted to work with a snitch. 

It didn’t matter that the feds had him serving life and he was just trying to survive, hopefully shave off enough time to not die in a cell. He was a rat and had nothing but enemies on both sides. Mierda, his parents had really screwed him over. His mother had ensured he would always be seen as a criminal and his father had ensured every criminal saw him as a traitor. He was destined for a life of solitude. 

Then he met Shay.

He had been eating at a restaurant frequented by his target, canvassing the place, when he heard her laugh. Usually he would ignore other patrons as he did his job but there was something so uninhibited about the sound that it captivated him. He looked up to find the source and saw her head thrown back in obvious joy, curly hair flowing freely behind her. Her eyes were damn near shut, smile big and bright. 

He was in LA for work but a little play never hurt anybody so he had his waitress send a drink to her and watched as he was pointed out. She lifted the drink he sent in a silent thanks and he raised his glass back, nodding at her with a smirk. He was aware when she had left and he finished his own meal and work soon after. He was unsurprised to find her waiting outside for him. That was the beginning of them.

He had thought once he had slept with her, they would both be satisfied and she’d be out of his system. A win-win situation, truly. But there was something about her that had him acting stupid. After he took care of Martinez’s problem, he laid low for a week, letting the heat die down. When it was safe enough to go back to Mexico, he just…didn’t. Instead he went and found her. He expected to have to work for it seeing as he left in the middle of the night and didn’t call for a week, but she let him back in.

So instead of going home like he should have, like he would have if he was smart, he stayed for her. He knew he should get the hell outta dodge, but he wanted to know her. So he called Martinez and picked up a couple more jobs he needed done out in LA and the surrounding area. When he wasn’t working he learned everything about her like it was his job, careful to never give her any real information, steering the conversation back to her every time. He was enchanted by her beauty, enthralled by her passion. Everything he learned about her got him closer to that dreaded L word.

Then he fucked up.

It had been three months of playing this dangerous game when she asked about him. He kew the day would come eventually when she wouldn’t allow him to just brush off her questions but he was somehow still unprepared and suspicious of her motives when it came. She had asked to know about his parents and he should’ve just fed her some bullshit story but he just got quiet. He realized he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know him, the real him, and still choose him. So he had told her an edited version of his parents, only to immediately realize his mistake. He didn’t want to, but he was going to have to leave.

So after fucking out his feelings, he left. He went back to Mexico and told himself to forget about her. Except he couldn’t get her out of his head. For six months he was constantly reminded of her. Every woman that flirted with him was compared to her, every one of them coming up short. Every time he smelled shea butter and coconut, he thought of her freshly showered. Every time he needed a release, he pictured her blissed out face, his hand not nearly as good as the real thing. So he did something even dumber than staying in LA for three months.

He went back.

He watched her for a few days, Shay never knowing he was there. He watched as she went out with friends. He watched as they encouraged her when some fucker had the audacity to step to her and flirt. He watched as she went on a date with the man. A better man would have taken that as a sign that she had moved on and he should too, but he never claimed to be a better man. He watched as she gave restricted smiles, restricted laughs and came to the conclusion that this ‘date’ wasn’t doing it for her.

So he left them at the basic ass restaurant the guy chose and went to her apartment to wait for her. He found his way inside like he used to and set up on her armchair, turning on her lamp so as not to completely scare her. He waited almost an hour before he heard her keys in the door.

She clocked the light being on the second she walked in the door. 

To prevent her from running and calling the cops because she didn’t know it was him, he spoke, “hola Amorcita.”

“Armando?” She question in disbelief.

He stood and took in his fill of her before telling her what he’d been thinking all night, “you look beautiful. Nice night?”

She shut the door behind her and cautiously stepped past the kitchen to reach the living room. She was still too far, standing at the edge of her breakfast bar across the room. Why wouldn’t she come closer? On one hand, she could be pissed that he left her for six months. Something told him it wasn’t that though. If she was pissed she wouldn’t be trying to keep herself as far from him as possible, as if out of reach. No, instead she’d probably get close enough to slap him. A heartbreaking realization hit him. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?”

Shay stood tall, facing him head on. “Your rap sheet says I should be,” she bit out.

There it was. The confirmation she knew who he was now, that there would be no more hiding behind omissions of truth. He tilted his head in contemplation, “that’s not what I asked.” Was she not phased by who he was? Or was she just biding her time?

When she didn’t say anything else, he slowly walked to her. He could feel the energy in the room shift and amplify. He still wasn’t sure if she was gonna knee him and run or invite his touch. He wasn’t sure if he could take the betrayal from her, but he would understand. Any sane person would run from the likes of him.

When he stood mere inches from her he ghosted his fingers over her arm, noticing her intake of breath. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?” He repeated, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shay looked up, her eyes meeting his, “no.”

“Maybe you should be,” he brokenly admitted.

She lifted a hand to cradle his face, “You’ll never hurt me that way.” She said it so surely, as if she could see into him, see his soul. There was no doubt in her voice, her sureness both a surprise that she felt that way and a relief that she understood.

It didn’t escape his notice, however, that she was very distinct in her words. He may not have hurt her physically but he had hurt her all the same.

“I’m sorry for leaving, Alma.” He turns his head to place a kiss on her palm.

She gave him a slight smile. “I get why you did.”

“Doesn’t mean it hurt you any less or make me any less sorry.” He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her even closer, her hands going around his neck. Her scent took over his senses, clouding his thoughts.

She didn’t refute what he said, just reached up to press her lips gently against his in a quiet acceptance. When she pulled back he stared into her eyes, wondering if this was real, wondering how she could be real. He saw nothing but the love he wished he could keep. Unable to stop himself, he drew her in for a longer more passionate kiss. It was slow as if they had all the time in the world, or rather if time and the rest of the world didn’t exist. He hoped she felt the words he couldn’t say aloud.

He felt her hands stop their playing in his short hair and move towards his shirt buttons. Before she got to the first one, he pulled back and held her hands in his own, needing to tell her, owing her and her loving heart the truth.

“I can’t stay.”

Eye to eye, love and determination shining bright in hers, she whispered, “I know.”

From there, clothes shed quickly and they made their way to the bedroom. They both knew this was a goodbye, closure for them both. Their last attempt at an ending had felt lacking, like there was more to be said. This time it was all laid out in front of them. Emotions may not have been said but they were felt and known, the reality of their situation acknowledged.

This time they would both take what they needed, giving them a more satisfying conclusion.

After she fell asleep he fixed his gaze on her white ceiling, wishing things could be different for them, wishing he could stay and give her the life she deserved rather than a few memories she’ll hopefully look back on with fondness. He allowed himself a few minutes more of wishful thinking and soaking in the feeling of being with her. When it came time to leave, he hated himself for it, but he laid her on the bed and quietly collected his things. Finding a pen and a scrap piece of paper, he scribbled out a note for her, leaving it where he should have been laying next to her. He spared one last look at her before leaving her for good this time.

If you ever need anything, find Detective Mike Lowrey. Miami PD.

-A

A/N: How we feeling about this part? Let me know what your favorite line was in the comments! Don't be shy with the comments and reblogs, they motivate me. Likes are appreciated too!

Translations:

Mierda - Shit/Damn

Amorcita - Little Love

Alma - Soul/soulmate

Taglist: If you request to be on the taglist, you're agreeing that you're 18 or older.

@yeahnohoneybye

[hxltic]

Hello! I have a request!

Could you do something where Kenma isn't really giving the female reader any attention because he's busy streaming so the reader sneaks under his desk where the viewer's can't see her and she pleasures him until he eventually cums down her throat?

:) I un-ironically love writing bjs

The shared house was silent anytime after 5 o’clock. Kuroo had just left— his afternoon business management classes calling him in, and Bokuto’s practice overcrowded his schedule to the point where he went twice a day with some gym sessions in between. That leaves you alone with Kenma in your 4 bedroom home off campus that was supposedly his father’s apology gift.

The bills are mainly kept satisfied with Kenma’s profit as his streaming allows you all to live as you do. Of course, there was a sense of independency by your own jobs regardless. There has probably been twice where everyone was in the living room at once, but it’s like there’s a tacit agreement each of you have your own goals.

You can’t be mad at the man for being busy when his job supports his friends and himself.

Kenma has been your friend, now boyfriend, for the longest out of all of them, next in line being Kuroo. Kenma took computer engineering and coding related classes, despite having already perfected building PC’s just out of pure experience. The work is hard. You’ve seen it.

You’ve witnessed him stress first hand about a single error in a strenuous, long line of codes—and you ask him why he doesn’t stop doing it if it bothers him to the extent it does. His determination has grown for activities he enjoys over the years; 12 year old him would have quit.

Kenma’s way to deal with stress is isolation. The entire day he’s been crammed in his room, and with being the only other person in the house majority of the time, you bring it upon yourself to feed him. He gets focused and forgets to eat.

The reminder has you clicking your Ipad off from whatever distraction show you had playing. It was so boring most of the days, Netflix couldn’t even fulfill you. You toss the covers off yourself, then bounce downstairs into the kitchen.

It was so quiet that your feet patting against the floor filled the air. To cure the ennui you felt, you’d take the time to have fun with this culinary experience.

By the time there was fluffy white flour messily coating the kitchen and dishes stacked like game cards in the sink, your dish was plated for two. Maybe you’d keep him some company?

Careful not to fall up the stairs, you prod at his door in attempt to knock with one hand. Somehow you turn the knob successfully.

The fan cuts through the air, every click of Kenma’s pen accompanied with a glance to the paper beside him. He won’t even look up at the waitress bearing goods.

“Hi Ken,” you grab his attention but his slim eyes only dart up at the smell of cuisine. “Have you eaten?”

You know the answer. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when he shakes his head the usual strands that follow aren’t there. You place the plate on his desk, next to the two cans of some energy drink and a diet Dr. Pepper.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly. There was a hint of edge to the sound, like he hadn’t used his voice all day.

“Mhmm.”

You turn on your heels to his bed, then sit criss cross as it squeaks and dips. “Do you mind if I just stay in here? It gets lonely in the house.”

To be honest, you forget he’s there sometimes.

“I’m kinda busy,” he replies. He loves you, and your presence, but he just knows he won’t be able to focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

The pout you flaunt deepens, “You’ve been stuck in here for almost a week now! Come out; I miss you Ken.”

He refrains himself from turning to look at you because he knows when he weighs his options, you’ll always come out on top. The chances of you getting picked multiply with your pout.

“Soon, I just need to finish this.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t even have a valid response for that, so he forces the spoon into his mouth. You’re actually a great cook, but since you all eat so much takeout, nobody’s at the dinner table at the same time to enjoy it.

You huff and negotiate to just sit in silence, as long as you’re in his presence. As long as you know he’s there.

This only lasts about fifteen minutes before you’re whining for him again. You completely understand the heavy load of schoolwork, and that it has to get done, but he genuinely has been at it for so long it cannot be healthy.

“I’m done,” he announces coincidentally, his soft fingers coming up to brush a tendril of hair back as he gathers his things on the desk into a neat pile.

Your head perks up like a puppy at attention. He arises from his chair after closing the laptop, pulling his rubber band from the hair connected at his nape as he steps towards you laying on his bed. You giggle in expectancy when he smiles gingerly at you, reaches his arms forward around your feet to plant his hands on the duvet, then crawls up your body. The hair tie wraps around his wrist to join all the other colorful bracelets and bands.

He makes you swoon by just giving you attention.

His hands grew into proportion as he aged, so now they were relatively large. Large enough to connect at your hips as he kisses his way up.

Stomach, chest, then an abundance on your chin and around your face, just for his thumb and index finger to hold your cheeks in position for his softer, slower kiss right on your lips.

You wrap your arms around him like he’d just disintegrate any second. You can feel his body slump, leaving you with most of his weight to carry and his head withdrawing from the kiss to between your breasts. With one hand massaging the round muscle, Kenma was in his element.

Black with barely-there blonde crowds your vision. His soft skin felt warm as you two lay intertwined in the still house, and if you were to fall asleep it would greatly help that Kenma never keeps the big light on. He moans in satisfactory below you.

You lift your hand to rest over his face, the bigger part of your thumb gliding gently over his cheek.

“I love you,” he mutters.

“I love you too Ken.”

After a while of Kenma following your heartbeat and breathing, you would’ve guessed he was asleep. He clarifies he isn’t when he groans lowly.

“I have to get up.”

The words rest tensely in the air, and maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him, he’ll lay there and forget about it.

He attempts to raise himself from you, politely grabbing your hand and locking your fingers when he comes to a hover above. His pink lips come to the corner of yours as you blink open your eyes.

Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to be with you, here, resting—but he hasn’t streamed in a solid week because of school. You were completely his priority though, so he would make sure to give you equal attention as his stream.

He finds the little willpower to come off you and the bed. He was genuinely hoping you’d stay there and sleep peacefully, that way he’ll come back to join you and it will feel like he never left.

He flips a blanket over your body before he strolls to his setup usually beaming with bright lights. He takes a seat, making sure to turn the brightness down of everything, refraining from playing music, and ultimately deciding not to turn on any light not connected to his PC anyway.

As much as you hate that he’s not cuddled up next to you right now, you love the fact that he’s a steamer overall because he looks so damn hot doing it. Especially the way his muscles on his forearm flex as he quickly types or plays. His hair that’s usually up is down, because he isn’t wearing his mic.

Or like the way every now and then he’ll pop a piece of gum in his mouth and manspread in his gaming chair to shoot a quick message or check his feed. Or like the way he’s so attent, making call-outs, or whenever he gets angry his brows furrow the slightest bit and his face displays whatever he’s actually thinking. You find it hilarious when his eyes roll.

At some point, he hears you come up behind him into view, and his head relaxes into your two hands sliding up his neck to his jaw. You crouch into the screen and the chat immediately multiples. It’s too quick to read them all. Knowing his viewers, Kenma takes the responsibility of closing it with the click of a button, so fast that it seems he never even did it.

“Cracked, 130,” he calls.

You stood there for a moment to watch him play. He and his team beat the level, game, you don’t know, but he releases his focus from the screen and mindlessly cracks his knuckles.

A donation comes in that’s read aloud. Kenma tenses, but you’re excited to hear it.

“jump1nnit donates $70. ‘girl to girl, is it big?’”

Kenma’s head drops back in your hands, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. Where were his mods?

All you were thinking about was how much Kenma was actually earning. 70 dollars in a single donation? How many of these does he get a day? How much more do people pay that’s over 70 when you aren’t here?

You shake these questions away. You knew he was famous. This was not new information; his fans see you sometimes in the background, and they adore you. It’s why your instagram has so many followers and people saying outrageous things in your comments. Ken begs you not to check them.

You find it amusing honestly. God knows what he’s being sent despite his DM’s or what they’re saying in his chats. You know there’s girls all over the world after him, but he doesn’t entertain them, so you don’t either. You trust him completely.

Brought back to reality, you look down at Kenma.

He starts, “Are you-“

To rile up the scene, you nod at the monitor with a mischievous smirk on your face. You bend and kiss his forehead.

“Can I sit right here?” You ask quickly, already pulling up his desk stool because he has no reason to say no. He takes your momentary absence to mute the computer.

“Yeah. yeah, Definitely.”

The blonde’s tone is a little off, but you chalk it up to what just happened. He was just surprised you’d actually respond. He ignores them so he doesn’t get demonetized.

So you sit next to him on your phone playing games, or watching him, or laying on his shoulder. It made it a little difficult for him to play with the last one, but he doesn’t mind. He places a kiss to your forehead, matching earlier actions, and the way you two looked at each other after will definitely reel in some fan edits.

You return to gaming on your phone until you drop it. It tumbles down and under the PC, into the jungle of wires below.

At least with everything included in the setup, that’s what you expect to see, but they’re all neatly accounted for. The seat moves back against the carpet to accommodate for your body, the space you’ve created to retrieve the device. The problem is, you and Kenma occupy this space. You won’t fit.

Kenma heard your phone drop, so he had an idea why you’re down there. He even chuckled a little. Once you pick up the phone, you use his thigh as leverage to turn yourself around, causing him to flinch, and immediately an idea pops into your head.

You could stay down here.

You press the heart of your palm into him once more, the same reaction procreating ideas like a lightbulb.

His voice from above makes another callout.

The lightness of your fingertips glide across his thigh and up to his waist, slipping past the barrier of the thin shirt he’s wearing. Kenma is not ticklish, but his abdomen turns concave to your touch.

By now he has concluded what is happening, or going to happen, and just the thought has him hardening in front of you. Of course it’s something he’s thought about. He hasn’t asked because it feels unnatural—like you would only do it because he suggested it.

His poker face remains stone cold, but the rest gives him away. With every touch you only got closer. You trail your whole hand up the shirt, running this one along the dips of his pale skin, while the other goes back and forth along his thigh. Inwards, then back out. Your phone was long forgotten.

You run the length of your fingers over his center sneakily before meeting both hands in the middle and fiddling with his waistband. He shivers, but continues to play.

He hadn’t been purposely edging himself, and he definitely knows that you would help him whenever he asked, but with all the schoolwork piled on top of him, it never crossed his mind. It was now though, and sensitivity was at its highest.

“No, why would you do that; that’s stupid,” Kenma replies to what you assume is a donation. The technological voice isn’t there anymore for you to hear.

The tips of your nails dive past every ounce of clothing settled at his hips.

He shifts in his seat, whether to allow you to pull the band down just enough or to calm his nerves, you don’t know, but the opportunity was right in front of your face. Literally.

You don’t even do anything but hold his length before you start the up and down motions. It’s enough to turn him on more, having him grow in your hand. You can’t imagine the faces he’s making while his viewers’ minds were already polluted.

“Keep going, push,” he exclaims. Voice still soft, but with some sense of urgency.

He was not speaking to you, but you listen anyway, and do as he says. Maybe you could play a game: see how long it takes before he realizes you’re taking orders.

With this, you stroke him a little faster, then run your fleshy thumb over his tip. It began dripping, a single bud threatening to fall. After swiping it away, you disperse what little you could, then wrap your plush lips around his head.

He wasn’t expecting it right after your slow pace.

“Ugh, fuck- third party.”

The groan he emitted was covered quickly by a call, as if that’s what “frustrated” him.

You pop off as quickly as you came, spread your saliva, and now slide your enclosed hand down his cock steadily. Silky smooth, it took no energy to glide along him. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his thigh through the cotton.

“Down, he’s under and one shot.”

You jerk him off as his breathing barely picks up, occasionally coming down to wet him some more, but you see a significant difference when your hand consistently twists just the tip. You’d swirl your tongue around the reddening, most sensitive part of him before dropping even farther to take his balls in your mouth.

You tug and pull harmlessly.

“Hmm...”

Despite what was going on, the streamer was clever with how he hid it.

He asks, “Hey, what do y’all want to hear?”

The viewers were astonished they were being asked; Kenma has previously told them he likes his music and would play whatever he felt like hearing. He did a stream for song recommendations and half of it was him hating on their music and the other half was his viewers attempting to find songs he would like.

Regardless, he unmuted the sound on his computer and turned on the playlist, only slightly louder than usual.

You took this opportunity to actually wrap your lips around his cock, not having to worry about the sounds. You start on the slower side but it didn’t take long to get comfortable. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you jerked off.

His abdomen showcased whatever his face wouldn’t, stuttering every now and then with his hips correcting their position. You brought the wet hand to his balls once more, and attempted to fit all of him down your throat. There was a deep sigh above you.

You closed your eyes and went again, trying to go deeper. You didn’t gag, but your throat made sounds that was enough implication of what was going on. That’s okay though. Some random band one of his mods recommended was playing.

Once more, you tried to go deeper, actually sputtering this time, but once you got past the uncomfortableness of it all, you could go the same depth over and over. You did, breathing through your nose. He could hear your throat, but chat couldn’t. If they could, they would be saying something.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s on me,” he huffs, “I’m gonna twist around to cover.”

You remove yourself, partially to breathe, and take two hands to twist on top of each other in opposite directions. His belly button caves in with some more muscles, pure evidence of his pleasure.

This was the second he knew what you were doing. What game you were playing.

If you wanted to play, he could too.

“Where is she?” he reads chat calmly. “I think she’s downstairs eating.”

Was it calm enough—you’re not sure, because he was fidgeting excessively in the leaning chair.

The double entendre has you giggling silently. With a deep breath, you’re back down on him again. It’s not long until you sputter.

“Do you want me to tell her to come back up?” You hear him spit out quickly.

You do as he says, but not without the price of your fingers doubling speed at his head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Hold on.”

With quickness, he mutes and turns his camera off.

He was sweating and physically overwhelmed. Pushing back on his heels, his chair rolls from under the table with you following, finally in his sight. He could already imagine how you looked.

Red lips. Glowing face. Glossy eyes, smiling and happy. You were ethereal. Your hands are working him, but now with his cock down your throat too? Oh my god.

He held a soft touch at your cheek and caressed your face with his thumb. Picking up speed, you smile.

The other hand of his would do the same, brushing a loose stand of hair behind your ear. Faster.

“Just like that,” he breathes.

“Mhmm?” you deepthroat him.

His head drops back involuntarily. His mouth does the same. The heavy breaths that he was holding from the stream let loose.

One last look at your flushed features and-

He groans heavily, adam’s apple bobbing and cock tightening. Skin usually pale but red with desire, he stills.

You close your eyes. It was so fulfilling with your throat stretched and his hands on either side of your plush face.

Warmth seeps past your tongue and down the cavern. It causes you to choke but Kenma definitely doesn’t mind. His sounds flow into your ears, plus some faint praise as he soon begins to release from his high.

You couldn’t taste anything as you slowly raise yourself from him, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and pink, but the taste just barely started to form once it caught your tongue on the way down. You swallow anyway—it wasn’t bad.

You use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes and breathe freely. You lay your cheek on the driest part of his pants, even though you’ll have to get up. You just aren’t ready to see the red wilts on your knees.

“You are amazing,” Kenma catches his breath. He looks back down with his eyes glossed over and tired, but he still runs his finger over your wet lip. You softly kiss it.

. .

“Are you getting back on?” You climb into his fluffy bed, throwing the covers back.

Kenma shakes his head and follows after you in a fresh new set. He grabs the covers and returns them over you both, pushing his hair back and holding you close.

©️ hxltic

[harrywavycurly]

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day can you imaging working on a love potion for WEEKS making sure it’s perfect and that it’s going to make Steve Harrington fall madly in love with you but you made sure to tweak it a little so he’s only slightly obsessed with you and not too clingy.

But when the day comes and you put it in his morning coffee that he ALWAYS orders at Benny’s where you’re a waitress, you feel your heart drop to your ass as you panic as the long haired metal head Eddie fucking Munson reaches over and steals Steve’s coffee finishing it off in a record breaking amount of time so even if you wanted to reach over and grab it from him you wouldn’t have had the chance.

“Oh fuck…” is all you’d be able to mumble making Steve and Eddie both turn their heads to look at you but Steve’s look is one of confusion while Eddie’s is one of adoration letting you know your potion has already kicked in.

“Holy shit you’re….you’re…the love of my life.” Steve’s eyes would go wide as Eddie practically falls out of the booth in an attempt to get closer to you.

“You…know her?” Steve’s voice would be laced with confusion as he turns away from Eddie and back towards you as you begin to slowly walk backwards towards the kitchen.

“Nope but that’s not important.” Steve would roll his eyes as Eddie finally gets free from the seat and stares into your eyes and you can tell by the slightly pink tint to them that your potion has officially made its way into his bloodstream.

“Dude do you even know her name?” You’d glance down at your name tag that’s attached to the collar of your work shirt hoping Eddie would follow your gaze but of course he’s too busy staring at your face.

“Stop asking me stupid questions Harrington and let me just…enjoy this.” You’d run a hand over your face as Eddie takes a step closer to you resulting in you taking two steps backwards away from him.

“I don’t think she’s interested.” Eddie would take a brief break from looking at you so he can send a hard glare to his friend who’s watching you try to escape into the back of the diner.

“She has to be.” You’d pause your movements as Eddie looks back towards you. “I…love you.” As the words slip out of his mouth you’d feel like your world is spinning out of control as you look over at Steve who is getting up out of his seat so he can place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Come on man…let’s just go.” Steve’s voice is soft as he tries to pull Eddie away towards the door.

“She has to love me.” Eddie’s voice is full of hurt as his face contorts as if the thought of you not loving him is actually causing him pain.

“I…I’m…so sorry.” Eddie’s head would just drop as he lets Steve pull him away towards the door as your words hit his ears.

“Love fucking sucks man.” You’d hear Eddie mumble making Steve just nod as the two of them leave the diner allowing you to finally process everything that just happened.

“Now what?” You’d ask yourself as you run a hand through your hair trying to think of ways to fix this situation but you know to come up with an antidote will take weeks and you didn’t think this would happen so you didn’t bother making one at the same time you made the potion.

“Uh you get back to work?” Benny’s deep voice would snap you back to reality as you just nod and reach over and grab the empty coffee cup off the table the two boys were just sitting at. As you stand up you’d catch a glimpse of Eddie getting into Steve’s car, his eyes staring into yours as he gives you a small smile and a wave having already forgotten about being upset with you not even two minutes earlier.

“He’s…kinda cute.” You’d think to yourself as you wave back at him making his smile grow bigger before Steve honks his horn making him roll his eyes before getting into the car. His eyes never leave yours as Steve backs out of the parking spot and you watch Eddie turn in his seat so he’s looking back at you as Steve slowly turns out of the parking lot.

[milfsloverblog]

Stood Up (Part 2) (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x Fem!reader

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for all the love you showed to the first chapter of this fic! I was honestly so overwhelmed, I just had to write a second chapter which I hope you’ll enjoy as much as the first one!

Just a quick reminder that my requests are open and I would love to write for any of Gwen’s characters <3

~2k

You didn’t want to admit it but since meeting Larissa at Ellen’s you had barely stopped thinking about her. After leaving the restaurant you’d told yourself that it had only been a one-night stand and you probably wouldn’t see the woman again, and you were sure Larissa thought the same about you.

And yet, the tall woman had been on your mind almost constantly. Even as you were composing a bouquet of white lilies, you couldn’t help but smile as you wondered if Larissa liked receiving flowers. You shook your head a little. You should not be having this kind of thoughts, who ever thought about giving flowers to a one-time lover? Or perhaps…No. No, it wasn’t anything more than that. You wouldn’t allow it to be more than that.

You couldn’t help it. When you sat down at your usual table at Ellen’s on the next Friday, you couldn’t help but wonder if Larissa would come. You had no way to find the tall woman. You knew she was a school principal but that was about it. She, on the other hand, knew you would dine at Ellen’s every week on the same day.

“The usual ?” Lydia asked as she stopped by your table. You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes glued on the booth where the tall woman had sat the previous week.

“Thinking about the lady ?” Your friend pushed a smile and you rolled your eyes in response.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lydia.” You groaned before quickly adding “Has she booked a table, though ?”.

The waitress shook her head and told you that she had not, but you never knew, she could show up to the restaurant without a reservation.

And it was ridiculous really, to feel disappointed when after over an hour the booth had remained empty, and you had just finished eating your food. But then again you couldn’t help it.

Switching your attention back to the cheating man who was, as expected, dining with his mistress, you wondered if the young woman knew that he was married. Had he told her that he was divorced? Or perhaps he had promised her that he would, that he didn’t love his wife anymore and would leave her so the two of them could live happily ever after. Foolish girl.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand landed on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, your breath hitching in your chest as you noticed the perfectly manicured fingers.

“Is this seat taken ?” Larissa asked with a soft smile and all you could do was shake your head in response. She took her jacket off before sitting down in front of you, your lips pulling in a smile as you contemplated her beauty.

“You came.” Was all you could say, earning a small chuckle from the tall woman.

“Of course I did. The wine is exquisite.” Larissa waited a few seconds before adding “And I knew you would be here.” And that alone was enough to make you melt.

Lydia appeared by your table to take Larissa’s order. A glass of wine, she had already had dinner. The waitress gave you a wink as she turned around and walked away after scribbling down on her notepad.

“So I take it that you came back for more ?” You asked and took a sip of wine.

“More ?” Larissa raised an eyebrow. “More what? Sex ?” She grinned a little seeing your pupils dilating, how good it made her feel knowing you wanted her.

“Yes, sex.” You nodded, biting your tongue at the thought of asking if maybe, just maybe, she wanted more than sex.

You doubted someone like her would ever want to be seen with someone like you. And it wasn’t just about the age gap. No, Larissa was simply so much more than you, in every way. But perhaps you could settle for this, casual sex with the woman, no strings attached.

There was a flash of something in Larissa’s eyes, it was quick but not quick enough for you not to catch it. She seemed almost…Disappointed? No, you were probably imagining things.

But you weren’t. Larissa pushed a smile but her heart squeezed in disappointment and she mentally scolded herself for being such a naive woman. You had spent the whole week haunting her mind, your voice whispering in her ear when she was typing out emails late at night in her office, the ghost of your hands brushing up her thighs when she was in an important meeting.

Larissa had stopped believing in love a long time ago when she was still a teenager. But you had looked at her in such an intoxicating way, like she was the most beautiful woman you had ever laid eyes on, and she had thought that maybe…But of course not. You were too young and she was far too old, you were pretty and full of life and she was-

“Hey!” Your voice snapped her out of her thoughts and you leaned in a little, gently placing your hand on hers. “We don’t have to.” You said “Have sex. We don’t have to. I will gladly sit here with you for hours, just chatting and learning to know each other as we empty a bottle of red wine.”

And that’s exactly what you chose to do. For a little over an hour you two talked about everything and anything, Larissa asking most of the questions, seemingly eager to learn more about you but also not divulging too much about herself.

The hands on the clock were close to midnight when Lydia approached your table again. She apologized for interrupting your conversation but the restaurant was about to close.

“The bar next door is open until two, though.” She added as she handed you the bill and you paid for both Larissa and yourself.

-

“Night Lydia, see you next week!” You waved at your friend and pulled the door open for Larissa before quickly following her outside.

“So, where is your car parked ?” You asked, burying your hands in your pockets.

“Oh just a little down the road.” Larissa gestured with her left hand and you start walking that way.

“It’s late, I don’t want anything happening to you out there in the dark.” You simply said. Truth be told, you knew Larissa would have no problem overpowering a potential attacker, but you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Let me drive you home ?” She offered once you’d reached her car and you immediately declined, it was late and you didn’t want to bother her.

“I live nearby.” You said. “Really, I will be home in less than-“ Your words were suddenly cut off by her hands on your cheeks. She grasped your face in her hands and knotted her fingers in your hair, tipping your head back to press her lips against yours.

She kissed you hard, her mouth was hot and urgent and needy. It was a desperate kiss, her lips hungry against yours as she drew your bodies together. And you took it back: you wouldn’t settle for casual sex with her. It would never, ever be enough.

Larissa eventually pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily as she pressed her forehead against yours. You could feel her chest moving up and down, butterflies blooming below your navel when she started laughing.

“Let me take you home.” She whispered, and it wasn’t a question this time.

“Fine.” You agreed “But only if you come in for a minute.” You added, making Larissa laugh again.

She gave a nod, you had a deal.

—

You barely had stepped foot inside your apartment when Larissa was all over you once more. Her eager mouth back on yours. She knew she was kissing you too hard, going too fast, but she simply couldn’t make herself slow down. She’d been hurting too much for too long and she wouldn’t take the risk of letting you slip through her fingers.

On any other day, or with any other woman, Larissa would have been embarrassed by her behavior. But there was something about that night, or about you, that made her feel confident. Beautiful. Invincible.

She had you pressed against the wall, one of her hands snaking down between your bodies until she made quick work of unbuttoning your trousers.

“Say it,” She whispered. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You caught her mouth in a kiss but she pulled away, leaving you craving for more.

“Say it.” She said again, more demanding this time.

“Please, please, fuck me.” You whispered barely audibly, a wanton moan escaping your lips when Larissa’s fingers slipped between your folds and slid right into your soaked sex.

“Look at me.” She demanded and you obeyed, finding her blue eyes unabashedly filled with lust. She pulled her fingers out only to push them back deeper inside you.

“God!” You cried out when she curled her fingers inside your cunt and raked her fingertips against your g-spot. The tall woman let out a low chuckle and reminded you that her name was Larissa, she wouldn’t let God or any other man take credit for the pleasure that she was giving you.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you ?” She purred as her free hand pushed your shirt over your head only to let it fall to the floor. She nipped at your neck, leaving lipstick marks on your jaw and slowly moving down to your chest.

Her lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it almost painfully and making you whine, writhing against the wall.

“Please, Larissa…” You begged, hips bucking against the tall woman’s hand to meet her thrusts. “I need, please…” You mumbled, knowing your words weren’t making much sense.

“I know, sweetheart.” Larissa purred in your ear, her thumb coming to draw lazy circles on your clit, making you whine even louder. You were close, so close you could feel yourself contracting around the woman’s fingers.

“Look at me.” Larissa demanded again, grabbing a handful of your hair and giving it a gentle tug so you would look up at her. “Will you cum for me ?” She whispered against your mouth, capturing your lips in a heated kiss to muffle your moans as you were pushed over the edge.

Slowly you came down from your high, moving your hips away from Larissa’s hand when your sex throbbed from the overstimulation.

“Let me tuck you into bed.” Larissa smiled and pressed a quick kiss on your lips.

“But-“ you started, ready to argue about wanting to make her cum.

“Another day.” She said, carrying you to your bedroom. “I need to go back to Nevermore. But we will meet again, plenty of Fridays to come.” She whispered as she tucked you in and kissed your forehead.

You tried your best to keep your eyes open, wanting to keep Larissa by your side as long as possible. But exhaustion and alcohol had worked their magic on you and you fell asleep in less than a couple of minutes.

Larissa took a last look at you before walking out of your bedroom. You looked at peace, she noted, like you had really enjoyed your time with her.

She pulled a pen from her handbag and borrowed a sticky note from your kitchen. Thinking for a moment before writing you a note.

“Here is my number, use it wisely! To (hopefully) many more Friday evenings spent together. Yours, Larissa. Xx”

————————————

Tags @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @mistressweems :)

[stargazedwinchester]

Too Soon? Pt.2 | Sam

Summary: Sam made a bold move despite only knowing you for a day. Where does this lead?

You can read part 1 here! It's been requested so here's the final part :)

Sorry for the week of nothing lmao, I've been extremely busy with work and it's taken me a whole week to finish this, everything else will be posted within the next week and requests will be back open soon!

Word count: 1,744

Tag List: @chaospossum @girlsforpjm @rowenalovee @themidnightwitch44 @amythedoctor @linkthetrashgoblin @take-it-on-the-run

Your cheeks flushed a bright pink, and Dean's eyes were locked on you. "That was a very bold move Sammy," He states, chuckling to himself before taking a bite out of his burger. And Sam laughs, clearly trying to avoid all eye contact with you. Unsure what to do, your eyes meet the table whilst thinking everything over.

"You're making her shy, Dean!" Charlie chortles, somehow finding amusement in your embarrassment. You just know that if the tables were turned she would not be laughing. Your eyes met Sams, the sunlight hitting the colours just right, making them look a sort of treron than plain hazel. It's almost like he hadn't taken his eyes off of you. His gaze softens when he realises they're still poking fun at the pair of you, so he shoots you a quick it's okay smile, before clearing his throat. The food and drinks arrived quickly after, the pair of you completely ignoring the two children sat next to you.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

About an hour or so later, you're all gradually picking up your things and leaving the table. Dean throws a $10 tip on the table for the waitress, giving her a full smile upon leaving. He and Charlie walk on toward the Impala, leaving you and Sam trailing behind. You can feel him looking at you, the feeling making you want to make him look at you more. The subtle exchanges in the diner and the gentle touches under the table make you feel like you're a teenager again.

You all pile into the car, sitting in comfortable silence. Charlie and Dean having their own nerdy conversation about Star Wars really bores you, so you tune out and stare out of the window instead.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Your head falls onto Sam's chest, who's sound asleep with his hand propping his head up as he rests, his legs splayed out with his other hand placed on his thigh. At this moment you didn't really care about who said what, it's hard to sleep in a car with no pillows or blankets. Charlie's asleep in the front seat, Dean focusing on driving. You shift your whole body to lean against him, and he lifts his arm to allow you onto his lap. You place your head on his thighs and he strokes your hair. Sam's breathing softens again, his enormous hands coming to a halt. He rests it on top of your hip, the pair of you drifting off to sleep once more.

It must’ve been a few hours since you passed out on Sam’s lap, but Dean had parked the Impala outside of a motel, the discoloured sign that read ‘ROOMS AVAILABLE’ is missing letters, assuming they had fallen off. The logo of the motel's lights flicker and dim in a rhythmic pattern. You jolt awake, rubbing your eyes and looking up at Sam, who’s just woken up as well. He looks down at you with a gentle smile, his dimples causing deep shadows on his face. You sit up, stretching as much as you can before exiting.

You all walk to the reception in silence, sleep deprivation taking over everyone’s mind. Dean, being chirpier than ever, requests rooms for everyone but himself and pays the receptionist in cash. “Why didn’t you get a room for yourself, Dean?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. He shrugs. “I work better when I have no sleep. It helps me thrive.” He frowns his lips, looking proud of himself. You grin at his quick comment, accepting that he’s most likely going to do his own thing tonight, and will just carry on the drive the next morning.

He passes Charlie a set of keys and passes you a set too. “Well,” he sighs, looking up at Sam. “Have a good night guys.” He says, patting him on the shoulder. Sam smirks, then looks down at the floor. “What do you mean? I can’t share a room with either of them, that’s weird.” He states, Dean turns back to him, shrugging his shoulders. “Figure it out. You’re a big boy now.” He laughs almost mischievously, and you give your sister a wide-eyed I have to share a room with him? look. Charlie giggles at your expense.

“I guess I’ll go find the rooms. I’ll see you two in a sec.” He says, showing you a small, guilty grin. Charlie excitedly looks over at you. “He’s so into you.”

"Charlie, he's known me, what, half a day? He can't be." You sound unsure, looking over your shoulder to peer outside. Charlie hums and shakes her finger in your face. "You never know, Y/N. Sam is always so nervous around pretty girls. He seems pretty nervous to me." She says with a smile in her voice. You smile widely. "Stop," You whisper, shoving her arm with almost no effort. "Let's just go to our rooms." You say, exiting the reception and meeting with Sam outside.

You find your motel room, the burgundy paint has chipped and the door handle is rusted, showing a battered brass shade underneath. You push open the door, leading yourself and Sam into a small, musty room with a double bed. The walls are a light cream, the curtains a dark crimson with a floral swirl pattern in a shade darker. The bedsheets match the curtain, and the carpet looks tired and worse for wear. Darker marks blotch the carpet, and you'd rather not know what stained it. "Well," You start, opening the blinds to allow more light to shine through. "It's something." You look at Sam, who's examining the room, padding his way over to the bathroom and turning on the light.

"Not bad. We've stayed in worse." He chuckles, chucking his duffel on the floor in front of the bed. He shuffles through his things and takes out salt, a gun, and a small whiskey flask. "The essentials." You laugh, Sam grinning at your comment. It's not often you'd go on hunts with someone who's so prepared to protect themselves. Usually, you'd just wing it and come home the same night. This time it's different.

You unpack a couple of things onto your bedside table, taking out your toiletries, ready to take a well-deserved shower. You sit up on the side of the bed, looking over at Sam. "So, about the bed situation..." You start, feeling awkward even having to mention it, and Sam chuckles. "Don't worry. I can sleep in the chair and you have the bed." He smiles, certain that you don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. "No, I was gonna say we can share. You won't get a good night's sleep otherwise." You disagree, pointing over to the empty side of the room. You had basically made yourself at home even though it was just for the night. Sam raises his eyebrows, almost shocked at you willing to share a bed with a man you've just met.

Even though he didn't agree or disagree with your suggestion, he kept it open in case you changed your mind. Forgetting about your shower, Sam enters the bathroom and turns on the shower. You thought the best thing to do to pass the time is to help him prepare the room for the night. You take the salt he had laid on the table and sprinkled it at the bottom of the door, the windowsills and around the whole perimeter of the room, including pulling out the bed from the wall and sprinkling it behind there too. You take his handgun and place it under the pillow. You remember to do the same with your own.

Sam gets out of the shower, putting on a fresh pair of underwear and wrapping a white bath sheet around his waist before entering the main room again. You look up at him from the bed, his toned yet sharp body mesmerising you, it's as if he did it on purpose. The guy knows he's good-looking, so he's using it to his advantage. His hair is messy, strands sticking to the side of his face as well as his forehead. Collarbones shining in the summer evening sun, beads of water glistening and reflecting the sunlight. He walks over to his bag, reaching for a new shirt and pair of pyjama bottoms. Your gaze is fixated on him, every single movement of his looks intentional, whether it is or not, it's getting your attention.

He walks over to the bed, lays his fresh clothes down and removes his towel. He folds the towel back up and throwing it gently on the edge of the bed to take back to the bathroom. He locks eyes with you for one second, a playful but cocky look on his face. You panic, thinking that he's going to think you're weird for staring. "Sorry," You mumble, taking your fascination elsewhere. Sam snickers. "Sorry for what?" He pauses, finishing putting his comfy clothes on. You sit up on the bed, and he walks over to your side. He towers over you, before continuing. "If it were you getting out of the shower, I'd be the same." He mutters. You stand up and there's a good height difference between you both. He looks down at you, moving closer. "I've wanted you from the moment I saw you..." He states, making the butterflies in your stomach arise. Your cheeks flush red, and you can't seem to find the confidence to look at him in the eyes.

"Yeah?" You ask, unable to understand how a guy like him is interested in you. "Yeah. I was so nervous around you but I took a moment and I thought you know what? I only get one chance at fucking up, so why not?" He inches closer to you, he lifts your chin up with his finger, and you freeze. "Can I kiss you?" He whispers, and you nod.

His gentle lips meet yours, awaiting your consent. He pulls you closer to him, his chest meeting yours. You place your hand on his cheek, slowly moving to the back of his head, stroking his hair. His hand moves from yours and places it on the small of your back. You pull him towards the bed and fall on top of each other, the tension swiftly building up in the last few seconds, and you both can't help yourselves.

Is this too soon? You thought to yourself, then shrugging it off. It's worth it.

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

Dipper Vs. Manliness

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2, The Inconveniencing (previous)

Special thank you to @disregardedblasphemy for beta reading! You're awesome <3

At one point, Stan had a bit of a crush on Lazy Susan. She’d been real cute and pretty sweet back when he first met her and she hadn’t been too upset about what happened to her eye. As the years passed, she was just one of the few single people left in his age range. That he actually liked, anyway.

Who knew so many people got married when you got old!

Now with his baby face in the way, Stan just didn’t feel right flirting with her like he normally did.

Using his ‘charming young man’ powers on her though―!

“You do split plates, right?” Stan asked, ducking his head shyly and peering up at Susan through his lashes. “We’re just poor, hungry kids on a budgeted allowance…”

Susan laughed and pinched his cheek.

“You’re just like your daddy, aren’t you? We always make an exception for Big Stan ― I can do it for Little Stan, too!”

Stan chuckled awkwardly, ignoring the ‘daddy’ comment, and offered the waitress a blinding smile.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a shutter sound and some muffled giggles.

“Tambry!” Mabel whispered, practically climbing over the back of the booth to speak to the girl on the other side. “Send me that for my scrapbook!”

Stan did his best to ignore that. And the fact that Tambry was still taking pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. Instead, he just pushed on with his order, ignoring Mabel’s protests that she wanted pancakes.

He could have made those himself if she'd wanted them so much!

Dipper, however, was more sympathetic to his sister’s plight.

“Don’t worry, guys!” he said confidently. “Pancakes are on me. I’m gonna win them by beating that manliness tester!”

“Manliness tester?” Stan asked blankly, remembering the machine that had been in the diner forever.

“Beating?” Mabel asked incredulously before bursting into laughter.

And Stan might have laughed with her if he hadn’t seen how scrappy the boy really was,  getting into fist fights with psychotic nine year olds and breaking into buildings. Still, the boy was built like a noodle and not in the typically stocky manner most Pines boys were. He didn’t even have their trademark nose, his mother’s genetics probably the cause for that. The color of it was right on point, though.

“Hold on there, sweetheart.” Stan put a hand on Mabel’s head to quiet her down, but wasn’t quite able to stop the snort that came with the mental image of Dipper beating the tester. “Your brother’s not as geeky as he seems, sometimes. I wanna see him try! Besides, it’ll be a good chance for me to see where he is before I start yous two on boxing lessons!”

“You’re going to teach us how to box?” Dipper asked skeptically.

Stan’s grin widened and he flexed his arms, thick cords of muscle visible even under his baby fat.

“You’re lookin’ at the best boxer from Glass Shard Beach! Goldmill Gym’s got all my old trophies lining the walls!”

At least, it had forty years ago. Old Man Nicky was surely dead now and probably had been pissed enough to throw out Stan’s medals when he’d disappeared into the night. Besides, the man had been friends with Pa ― Stan wouldn’t be surprised if the medals were melted down to make gold chains.

You’re a bum, Stanny. But you can take a hit and give ‘em back twice as hard.

Mabel latched onto Stan’s bicep, giggling wildly as he curled his arms a few times, threatening to drop her back into the booth.

“Hmmm,” Dipper hummed, eyeing Stan’s arms thoughtfully. “...okay. I mean, how different could it be from kickboxing?”

Stan grinned at him. “That’s the spirit, kiddo! Now ― go win us some pancakes!”

Dipper beamed at him.

It didn’t last long, however, the boy failing miserably and running out in the face of Manly Dan showing him up. Stan didn’t think the man meant anything by it. He probably just wanted more pancakes or was trying to feed what he thought was a bunch of hungry kids. He was just like that sometimes. Blunt and lacking tact.

Stan was the same.

He looked between his plate and the empty doorframe, conflicted.

Was he supposed to chase after the kid or give him space so he could lick his wounds?

Moses, he missed Old Nicky ― the man would already have a diet planned to help put muscle on the kid or have him chasing chickens and bench pressing hogs. He had a weird way of training his boxers, but he’d made Stan quick on his feet and able to find a weak spot on guys with more fat rolls than average.

“He’ll be fine,” Mabel rested her hand gently on Stan’s arm. Her smile was familiar, but it didn’t really meet her eyes. She almost looked guilty.

“Of course, he will.” Stan smiled back at her half-heartedly. “He’s a Pines. We always end up alright.”

Mabel didn’t look convinced, but she let it go for a moment. She began eating her pancakes, but some of her enthusiasm was lost.

“... do you think I shouldn’t have laughed at him?”

Stan winced, hearing the hurt in her voice. “Probably didn’t help…”

Mabel deflated, losing some of her usual vibrancy. “He’s really serious about becoming a man. Growing chest hair and wishing his voice would stop cracking…”

“People make it into a big deal.” Stan shrugged, remembering how he’d waited for those body changes a lifetime ago. There’d been the awkward days with acne and voice cracks, not to mention realizing he could have a crush on nearly anyone who showed him a smidgeon of positive attention. He could only sympathize with how Dipper was feeling, especially with Stan around in his current state. The kid was probably wondering when he was going to start shooting up and filling out like his uncle. Shermie and Alec were both built big as well. Dipper probably was feeling left out. “He’s gotta figure out his new place and his body’s going through some… changes. Speaking of, please tell me your mom has had The Talk with you…”

Mabel snorted, a gleam returning to her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Stan.” she snickered. “Mom told me everything to expect last year.”

Stan sagged in relief. “Just let me know if you need… any feminine products. Or chocolate. Or just tell Wendy and I’ll give her the money.”

Moses, was it hot in here or were his ears on fire. He never expected to have this conversation. Why did it have to be so awkward?! He’d had a mother, for crying out loud ― and a girlfriend who’d been very vocal about what cramps and mood swings did to her.

Mabel just laughed at him again, bouncing back to her normal self with an ease he envied.

“Do you think he’ll be alright once he’s done with puberty?” she asked thoughtfully, trying her straw wrapper into a neat bow. “I mean, you seem alright going through it a second time.”

Stan snorted at that. “Nah, I was pretty much set as soon as I hit sixteen the first time. The only thing that stuck around for a while was the acne. That didn’t really go away until my thirties.”

“I thought that went away after you turned twenty!” Mabel exclaimed, her face twisting with horror.

“Nope!” Stan propped his chin up on his hand, leaning close to give her a good look at the bumps on his chin. “Maybe it won’t be so bad once you get over the hump of the hormone changes, but pimples’ll pop up at random forever! But your face thingies helped mine the other day.”

“We should get you some pimple patches for the little ones!” Mabel suggested, poking a red spot on Stan’s cheek. He hissed at the little jolt of pain it caused and she pulled her hand away, expression apologetic. “Ohh! We should do another spa day!”

“Spa day?” a somewhat familiar voice asked from behind them. Tambry popped up over the back of their seat, her eyes fixed on her phone. “Count me in.”

“Me, too!” Wendy announced, sliding into the booth across from them. “We should get Stan some better clothes, too. He’s been wearing the same pair of jeans for weeks.”

“I wash them!” he protested indignantly.

“You’re gonna wear them out like that.” the redhead pointed out easily. “Also, you smell like an old man. Switch your cologne.”

“I don’t wear cologne to work. That’s just aftershave.” He rubbed his chin with a grimace, resenting the fact that his facial hair had been so patchy as a teenager. It looked weird if he didn’t shave every morning. Back when he was old, his five-o’clock shadow had been fine enough for tours ― now he just looked stupid.

“We should get him a jacket that fits!” Mabel suggested, bouncing in her seat with her thoughts a million miles away. Probably lost in some mental mall. “And a comb!”

“I wouldn’t mind getting some gel,” Stan admitted, running a hand over his unruly curls. “S’how I used to wear it.”

Wendy tilted her head, considering his face. “I can see it. Like those guys in Grease.”

Stan snapped his fingers and pointed at her with a grin. “Exactly!”

“Let’s go to the mall!” Mabel shrieked, overcome with excitement. She shook Stan’s arm, moving her body more than his bicep and looking like she was being electrocuted as a result. Or like a fish flopping on the floor of his boat. “Mall Day! Mall Day!”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” Stan groaned.

“Nope!” Mabel and Wendy wore identical expressions, like lionesses about to pounce on some poor, old zebra. Tambry offered a thumbs up from the other side of the booth wall. ____________________________________________________________

“This was a terrible idea.”

Now, Stan was no stranger to shopping with a teenage girl. He’d dated Carla McCorkle for a while before she was stolen away by that mind-controlling musician. He was quite familiar with wandering from store-to-store while a girl ooh-ed and ahh-ed over things without making a single purchase.

He hated customers who did that and he hated being part of a group that did that.

“Grunkle Stan, this is an essential part of shopping!” Mabel punctuated her statement with a pointed slurp of her iced coffee. De-caf, of course. She was already energetic enough.

He responded with a pointed sip of his own, secretly conceding that iced coffee was good. Especially all dolled up with fancy syrups and whipped cream.

Way too expensive, though.

“C’mon, man.” Wendy rolled her eyes fondly and threw the jacket she and Tambry had been fawning over at his face. “Chill out and leave everything to us. All you gotta do is put on what we tell you and say if you like it or not.”

“I was promised hair gel.” Stan muttered petulantly. He felt the soft lining of the jacket, an old-styled bomber like the one Ford had worn as a kid, and noted that it was soft. “Can’t I just pick some jeans and go?”

“Grunkle Stan, you need to learn about style!” Mabel exclaimed, stars in her eyes. “Now that you’re not a gross old man, this is the perfect opportunity to work on my ‘Convince Dipper To Wear More Than One Outfit’ powerpoint!”

Stan stared at her blankly. “What’s that got to do with dressin’ me up?”

“Because!” Mabel exclaimed exasperatedly. “You guys look a lot alike now! Once he sees how good you look, he’ll be inspired to do the same!”

“She has a point.” Wendy shrugged. “You’ve had more women hitting on you these past few weeks than you’ve had my entire life.”

“You’re totally hot.” Tambry confirmed flatly, briefly moving her phone away from her face to show them some kind of website. There were a lot of pictures of him and it made his skin crawl. So did the comments, most filled with the little picture things from Mabel’s ‘motivational sticker pack’.

“Ugh!” Stan shuddered at the girl’s comment and threw his hands up defensively. “I― I don’t even know what to do with all that. It’s… It’s weird.”

His eyes darted around in search of an escape route and he bolted out the door with the jacket in tow. He liked it, but he’d never admit it. Or pay for it.

Stan yanked the tags off, casually dropping them in a nearby trashcan before shrugging the jacket on. Ooooh, it had nice big pockets. Perfect for shoplifting!

“Well, if it isn’t Stanley Pines.”

Stan stiffened at the voice behind him, mind racing as he tried to place it. 

Don’t panic, you’ve been introducing yourself as Stanley the Second for weeks! This is just the con beginning to pay off…

He turned, a conman’s smile curling his lip, before a shocked scream left him.

“My eyes! My poor eyes!”

It was improbable. It was impossible! It had been forty years!

But against all the odds, there was a familiar face from Glass Shard Beach in Gravity Falls.

Old Man Nicky stared at him, his expression as sour and unimpressed as ever, another generation’s worth of wrinkles making him look like a particularly grumpy bulldog. He was still wearing the same old red sweater over a gray tracksuit, thin wisps of white hair peeking out from beneath a black beanie.

It really was his old boxing coach. Really old boxing coach.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” Stan asked before he could stop himself. A cane shot out and clocked him in the shin, making him yelp and topple over. Ugh, just like the old days.

“Shouldn’t you? Your ma told me you crashed your car into a ditch and burnt up. Guess you just got mixed up in some freaky magic shit out here. Probably somethin’ ta do with that brother of yours.”

Stan winced at the relatively spot-on observation, rubbing his leg as he looked up at Nicky. The man had shrunk over the years, but he never lost the ability to make Stan feel like some scrawny little kid.

“What’re you doin’ in Gravity Falls of all places?” he asked, not bothering with how the man knew about magic. You couldn’t live here without tripping over a gnome every other Tuesday.

“Got myself a grandson who married a selkie. Their kids like the cold and I’m mostly retired. Thought I’d spend the rest of my twilight years with them.” Nicky shrugged before piercing Stan with a stern look. “Thought about lookin’ ya up, but you were too busy runnin’ around and pretendin’ t’ be Stanford. You’re a bum, Stannie. Your impersonations suck.”

Stan straightened up with a frown, properly offended now.

“I’ll have you know,” he sniffed, tucking his hands behind his back and looking down his nose at the old man. His gruff voice smoothed into something more sophisticated and refined, the Jersey accent melting away like butter beneath a summer sun. “That I still do a fantastic impersonation of my brother… Hypothesis! Quantum physics! Exponential!”

Nicky chuckled at him, wrinkled face sagging as it softened fondly.

“That’s our Stanford.” he sighed, turning away. “Now, c’mon back to the gym and fill me in on what happened. Y’not doin’ this without good reason. Yous two hated being mixed up.”

Stan hesitated, looking over his shoulder for the girls. They were a few stores back and a few bags heavier, their eyes scanning the mall in search of him.

“I’ll have to raincheck ya on that, old man.” he hurried to say, voice returning to normal and pitched low. Secretive. “I got a couple of add-ons who aren’t exactly in on it. They can’t know.”

Nicky frowned at him, tilting his head so he could squint at the girls as they approached. Mabel had spotted them, her face lighting up as she rushed forward with a grin.

“Well,” Nicky chuckled as she caught up to them. “This one looks just like you. Braces ‘n all. She box any?”

“Grunkle Stan’s gonna teach me and my brother!” Mabel proclaimed proudly before blinking in confusion at the old man. She shrugged and offered Nicky her hand. “Hi, I’m Mabel! Are you one of my uncle’s old man friends?”

“More like his uncle.” Nicky clasped her hand gently. “You can call me Papa Nick.”

“Okay!” Mabel agreed before Stan could protest.

“Oh, c’mon old man!” he huffed. “You never let me call you Uncle Nick!”

The old man smacked him with the cane again. “That’s cause you’re a bum, Stannie. ‘Sides ― Filbrick woulda had kittens if he caught you boys goin’ soft on me.”

“Wait, you knew Grunkle Stan as a kid?!” Mabel gushed, her hands squishing her cheeks. “Oh Em Gee ― you’re like, super old! Do you have pictures of baby Stan?!”

“Course I do!” Nicky snorted. “And all’a his old trophies. Tell ya what ― yous guys come for dinner and I’ll dig ‘em out.”

“Nicky!” Stan hissed, panic seizing his chest.

The old man bopped him with the cane once more, gently this time.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kid.” Nicky gave him a pointed look. “I’ll keep all your embarrassing secrets in storage. For now.”

Stan held his gaze a moment longer, praying that the old man would keep his word, before nodding stiffly.

“Fine. Where’re ya stayin’ these days?”

Nicky smirked, smug with victory, and shoved a business card into Stan’s hand.

“Six o’clock. Come to the back door and don’t be late or you’re washin’ towels.”

“I don’t work for you anymore, old man!” Stan shouted after him as he and Mabel rejoined the rest of the girls. “I ain’t washin’ nothin’!”

Nicky just laughed at him and continued on his way. ___________________________________________________________

“What happened to you, kid?” Stan asked in bewilderment as Dipper trudged into the house, twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair.

The boy sighed and flopped down on the floor by Stan’s armchair.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” the boy mumbled into the carpet.

“Good.” Stan said awkwardly, trying to think of a subject change to get out of another ‘feelings’ talk.

“It’s just these half-man, half-bull humanoids were hanging out with me…” Dipper blurted out suddenly, shooting up with an annoyed expression.

“Here we go.” Stan rolled his eyes. He frowned as the boy’s words reached his brain. “Wait, you talkin’ about those dumb Manotaurs? Those guys are jerks!”

“I know, right?!” Dipper threw his hands up, relieved to have another person on his side. “They wanted me to do this really tough, horrible thing ― but it just wasn’t right. So, I said no.”

The boy deflated, looking as lost as Stan felt after spending too long reading his brother’s journals.

Stan reached down, easily knocking Dipper’s hat off, and ruffled the boy’s tangled curls.

“You were your own man and you stood up for yourself.” he said firmly. Dipper looked up at him in surprise. Stan grinned at him. “You did what was right even though no one agreed with you. Sounds pretty manly to me, but whadda I know?”

Dipper smiled at him, regaining some of the life that he’d lost during his all-day workout. His brows raised as he took in Stan’s new jeans and T-shirt, the outfit capped off by his new bomber jacket.

“Hey, you look good. I like your jacket. And you finally got hair gel?”

“Thanks.” Stan thumbed the collar of his jacket, remembering the one Ford had worn when they were kids. Which, now that he was thinking about it…

“How’s about you go get ready?” Stan nudged the boy with his foot, toes digging into Dipper’s ribs and making him giggle. “We’re headin’ to a friend of mine’s for dinner and you stink.”

Dipper’s face fell. “Do we really have time for me to shower? I― I mean, is it really necessary?”

“Yep.” Stan said firmly, nudging the boy again. “Go ― use soap this time.”

The boy groaned dramatically, but headed upstairs anyway.

He could hear Mabel in the attic, singing along to some pop song at the top of her lungs. Once he heard the shower cut on, Stan bolted for the vending machine.

It was risky as hell, but he’d done worse lately.

All of Ford’s old things that might have given away his identity were stored in the basement. Six-fingered gloves, old home movies and pictures ― they all lived in boxes in the observation room. Along with a trunk of keepsakes that Ma had sent after Pa died and the pawnshop closed. She’d moved in with Shermie those last few years before her death and wanted ‘Stanford’ to have all of the twins’ old things. Probably in hopes he’d use them with a son of his own one day.

And in the trunk, there was a little old jacket with patched elbows that had seen the boys through many an adventure.

Ford’s bomber jacket.

Stan lifted it out of the trunk reverently, like one would a precious artifact. It was soft beneath his fingers, the fabric worn and the fur lining a bit matted. The elbow patches were fraying and it smelled of mothballs and old books.

He buried his face in the lining with a sniffle, wondering why he and Ford had ever drifted apart in the first place.

Stan knew he was a screw-up, but he still had no idea what he’d done to make Ford want to move across the country to get away from him.

“When did you stop liking me, Poindexter?” he sighed, tucking the jacket beneath his arm. He checked the security cameras before heading back upstairs. He’d had plenty of time to get the jacket and hide it in his room before Dipper and Mabel were ready for dinner.

No worries.

____________________________________________________________

“Uh, did you just see that, dude?” Soos whispered to Wendy, his eyes wide with shock.

“Secret door to a secret basement in the Mystery Shack?” Wendy confirmed, her normally cool facade beginning to crack. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Good to know.”

[princessbrunette]

modern line cook anakin flirting relentlessly w his fave waitress…& she pretends to hate it but one night they’re the last 2 in the restaurant & uhhhh you get it

sorry i ltrlly forgot to add smut my bad

anakin always picked on the shy ones.

it wasn’t fair! you could totally see why the other waitresses fall at his feet, with that charming smile, those tattoos peeking out from his rolled up sleeves, his dark blonde waves stuffed into a beaten up black backwards cap instead of a chefs hat or whatever it was meant to be. even the dirtied apron he wore over his shirt accentuating that stupid slutty waist. you hated when he caught you looking.

“wearing the hell out of that apron, pretty girl.” he flips a spatula in his hand catching it on the handle-end as you shuffle in towards him, hot and bothered. it wasn’t a particularly busy day at all, but you were super understaffed and working the night shift — merely irritated by the fact you’d rather be at home wearing pyjamas and watching gossip girl.

“can i get an ETA on that lasagna? i asked for it like… 20 minutes ago, i think.” you avoid his gaze, and he’s just smirking, standing there looking amused by how nervous he makes you.

“i actually have it right here for you.” he smiles, softening his gaze a little subconsciously as if guilty he was making you feel uncomfortable, relenting on his teasing for a moment. you smile gratefully. anakin always prioritised your orders, ever since he took a little too long and some guy yelled at you making you cry (which resulted in him storming across the restaurant and explaining in the rudest way possible that food takes time to cook and if he wants some undercooked garbage he can go somewhere else, etc. he then cooked you some chicken tenders in your break and sat you down and told you to eat up and not listen to the asshole.)

he holds the plate out and when you reach for it he pulls it away with a grin. you reach again, and he pulls it away, biting back a chuckle. you huff, looking at your shoes, waiting for him to just play ball. he laughs because he thinks you’re adorable, gently clapping a hand on your shoulder and placing the plate into your hand. “its really hot, yeah? be very careful.”

“you say that everytime n’i’m fine.” you frown.

“a’ight, sorry for giving a shit!” he holds his hands up, voice high in lighthearted defence as he turns back to his work station. he turns his head to watch you swing out the doors back into the restaurant.

you hated closing more than anything, tired and irritable and pouty. you finish tidying up the restaurant, locking up so you can leave through the back where your car was. re entering the kitchen, you cringe — seeing anakin still there, wiping down his work space. he turns his head, face all but lighting up when he sees you.

“you headed out?” he converses and you slow your pace, keys jangling from where they hang from your fingers.

“well, m’meant to be closing. can’t lock up if you’re still here so…” you sway, hoping he’ll get the message.

“ah,” he winces, not even pretending like he gives a shit. “see, i was about to make some food. haven’t eaten yet. you had dinner?” he glances back over. you lean on your hip, huffing out a sigh, doesn’t look like you’ll be going anywhere for a while.

“well… no… what are you making…?”

“what’d i tell you, huh? can ask me for any food you want at any time on your shift. even the shit off the breakfast menu. go sit down, i’m making you pasta.” it’s not really up for debate, anakin just waving you off to the staff room. you take your coat off, and your apron, flopping down in a seat and scroll on your phone until he arrives with the food.

“are we allowed to do this?” you fiddle with your lanyard on the table, looking up at him so sweet and innocent he wanted to say forget the pasta all together.

“you see anyone that’s gonna stop us?” he sits down, the two of you digging in.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Could you do a one shot where the reader tries to rob the marquis de gramont’s house only for that to go wrong and now the reader is being interrogated.

You woke to a shrill bell, in a room you didn’t remember. Trying to get your bearings, you came to the realization that you had no memory of this place, and you were only wearing a pair of panties.

A screaming headache hit you as hard as the fact that they weren’t even your panties. Plum purple panties, with intricate lace and embroidered roses, looked far more delicate than anything you’d ever buy.

Scanning what you could see of the dimly lit room you were in, it became painfully obvious it was some sort of cell by the metal door and lack of any windows. The only piece of furniture, was a surprisingly ornate velvet chaise you were presently handcuffed to.

Frantically trying to recall how you ended up topless, in someone else’s underwear, in a dimly lit prison cell with no windows, you felt a panic attack swiftly approaching when you found no answers.

The last thing you could recall, was telling your twin sister you’d meet her in your shared suite, as soon as you swam a few more laps. You were in Paris for fashion week in a few days, and were very sought after by all the designers. Your sister ate a very strict restricted diet, while you were a bit more lax and liked food. Unfortunately that meant you had to work out to make up for the extra calories. You actually somewhat enjoyed exercise, and staying active, while your sister hated it. Still, you were amazed at your sisters restraint when it came to food. She never ate any carbs, any sugar, any processed foods, any refined grains, and even refused starchy vegetables and high sugar fruits. She also only ever drank water. Ever.

Maybe that was how you ended up here. Now that you were thinking about it, you had accepted a Mimosa from a fellow guest, but it’d been brought to you by a waitress and you hadn’t even finished it.

You hadn’t sensed any danger or nefarious intentions towards yourself or your sister, and had been recommended the resort by several fellow models and colleagues. You hoped your sister was at least okay.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall well dressed man, glowering down at you.

Never one to be intimidated, even with the obvious enormous vulnerabilities you currently had, and no plan whatsoever, you were not about to be polite.

“Who the FUCK are you motherfucker, and WHERE ARE MY FUCKING CLOTHES?” You shouted towards the end. “And what the fuck is this shit?” You asked as you pointed to your wrist, cuffed to the sofa. “This is coming off RIGHT NOW and I’m leaving!”

The man stood there with the same rude facial expression, not responding or reacting to anything you said. Breathing hard, you watched and listened for a few seconds, before closing your eyes, and screaming at the top of your lungs, for as long as your lungs would allow.

Taking a deep breath, preparing to unleash another one, you peeked at your captor and froze your breath to see he was smiling at you. Fucking smiling!

You saw red. “What ARE YOU SMILING ABOUT? Come over here and I’ll give you something to smile about you fucking nut!” You shrieked.

“Sssshhhh!” He placed a finger on his full lips, shooshing you. “How will you know how to win the game, unless you listen to the rules?”

That was it. You were at a whole new level of pissed. You were so angry at the mere suggestion of this fucked up situation, being some weird game, it didn’t even occur to you, that you should probably be frightened. Maybe even terrified, but all you knew was you were going to kick this guys Ass. “Let. Me. Go. Now.”

“What? So you can sneak out again like you did last night? And after I had forgiven you for leaving the party and going through my personal things?” He shook his head amusedly. “You are going to tell me, exactly who hired you, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

Well shit.

Last night your sister had said she was going to bed early and you’d gone out and met up with friends. Could she have gone out after you left and tried to rob this hot guy? Didn’t sound possible, but here you are in a dungeon or something.

“Well? How hard do you want this to be?” He snapped.

“Okay hear me out. I’m a twin and I never went to anyone’s house yesterday so you must be looking for my sister. This really doesn’t sound like her type of deal but I’m always telling her she needs to go out and live a little.” Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, you laid back on the chaise and shut your eyes. “We are successful models here for fashion week, so I seriously doubt she was trying to jack you. She never steals anything so maybe she was just being nosy.”

Several minutes passed before you heard the man approach you and undo your handcuffed wrist. You opened your eyes to look at him and were stunned with how beautiful this man was. He glanced down at you, before standing to his full height and walking out of the room.

Jumping up, you quickly checked to see if the door was unlocked. Unsurprised that it was, you started to pace back and forth.

“CAN I AT LEAST HAVE SOME CLOTHES??!!?” You shouted.

Fully expecting to be ignored, you were surprised when the door swung open to reveal a woman holding out a couture looking dress on a hanger, “put this on. The Marquis wishes for you to join him for brunch.”

Nodding dumbly, you took the dress, and slipped it over your head, all the while sizing up this woman for escape. While she looked fit, she was considerably smaller than you, and you were certain you could take her.

Just as you were about to attack her, the door opened again, revealing two huge security personnel.

There goes that plan. You thought to yourself.

One of the men placed heels down on the floor in front of you. You’d never seen them before, but they fit, so you weren’t complaining.

Silently following after the woman, tailed by the two men, you couldn’t help but gape at your surroundings. While you imagined the place with a dungeon, must be fancy, you weren’t prepared for the level of opulence, and immense size of wherever this was.

Artwork that you’d studied in college, hung on the walls, and furniture you only saw in museums and magazines, surrounded you.

After walking for several minutes, you came to a dining area set in a sunroom. On the table was several breakfast and fruit options, and your stomach rumbled at the sight.

“Sit down. The Marquis will join you shortly. Do not try to escape, your guard detail is just outside the door, and it’s better not to upset my master.” The woman stated in a clipped tone, before exiting the room.

Taking a seat, you scanned around the room to see if any of the windows appeared to open. Deciding they likely did not, and even if they did, the wall surrounding the property, was so far away, you could barely even see it. This seemed like the type of place that had big scary Dobermans or something.

Turning your attention to the food, you sniffed it trying to determine if it was poisoned. Realizing you had no idea how to determine if something has been poisoned, you just picked up a piece of melon, and nibbled on it.

“Isn’t it rude to eat before everyone has arrived?” The Marquis asked as he walked in the room.

“Not as rude as handcuffing a woman to a chair in your dungeon in someone else’s underpants,” you replied cheekily.

Smirking and looking down, he nodded his head a bit before taking a seat. Turning his striking green eyes to you, he took in your appearance very deliberately. “I checked and you are in fact a twin.”

“Ding ding ding! Get this man a prize!”

The Marquis genuinely laughed, before leaning forward and pursing his plush lips. “How well do you know your sister? Are you two close?”

You picked up another piece of fruit and took a bite, maintaining eye contact with the man across from you. You weren’t sure where he was going with this, but you couldn’t see any harm answering questions, that a quick scan of your social media accounts would reveal the answers to.

“She’s the strait laced, conservative, boring version of me, with the self control of a monk, is what I would have said if you asked me yesterday. Today… I am torn between being mad at her, and proud of her.”

“Why proud?”

“Because look at you! Look at this place! You’ve even got some snobby title to boot, and she bagged you. Then she ghosted you, and obviously hurt your ego. She’s never this exciting.” You answered honestly.

“You find this behavior exciting? Flirting with a man, only to look through his belongings while he showers, and exit before he returns? This is acceptable behavior?” He asked indignantly.

Inwardly you were screaming. Your sister NEVER had one night stands. You have had a few and every time she gave you so much shit over it. Going so far as to tell friends and family about them, in an effort to shame you or something. It never worked, but it was irritating that she tried, and come to find out she was doing it too! You absolutely were going to give her an earful.

“Listen buddy, I’m honestly sorry that she did this to you. You’re obviously not used to rejection, and judging by how rich and important you must be, I can see where her looking through your stuff seems nefarious, but I guarantee you, no one hired her. She probably was just kinda tripping that she just had sex with some random gorgeous French guy and was curious, or she hella thought a guy like you must have a girlfriend so she was looking for clues. Now either she found some female items in your stuff and decided to leave, or she was just embarrassed about being a hoe bag, when she’s normally the biggest prude in America.” You leaned across the table and grabbed a pastry, “you’re not going to eat?”

He frowned at you, looking as though he was going to deny you, but seemed to change his mind and grabbed a few raspberries. Popping them in his mouth, he stared off in the distance contemplating something. “We did not sleep together. I had to take a shower because a drunken idiot, knocked an entire tray of desserts into me.”

“Why was she in your room?”

“She came here with an associate of mine, but it was clear from when they arrived, she was not interested in him romantically. He became belligerent, ordering her to leave and calling her all sorts of names. I personally don’t like that sort of behavior, so I had him removed. I approached your sister to offer her a car to take her home, but somehow we ended up talking most of the night. Then the drunken idiot incident happened, and she didn’t want to be left alone with a bunch of strangers, so she asked if she could accompany me. I honestly thought she was going to attempt to seduce me, but no such luck. She just sat down in the receiving area of my personal living quarters. I actually didn’t even take very long, but when I came out she was gone. I assumed she went back to the party, but was informed by my personal security, she’d left out a side door into the night. They were able to track her back to your hotel, where I had them pick her up, but I suppose grabbed you. You see, I have some very dangerous enemies that use various tactics to get to me, and I thought your sister was sent to infiltrate my space and possibly take something, or leave some type of device. I enjoyed her company, so I may have overreacted and automatically assumed the worst in her, when maybe I just live in a world that has made me paranoid and cruel.”

“Wow.” You stated. “That’s a lot to unpack. Rich people problems I guess. You don’t seem like too bad of a guy, now that I’m wearing clothes and not in a dungeon. Fucking bat shit crazy response to a chick just trying to leave tho. Especially the somebody else’s underwear part. That was terrifying.”

He cocked his eyebrow and smirked cockily. “I’m how do you say… strategic. I apologize, and hope you can forgive me. I have a driver at the ready to take you wherever you need to go, and will remain available to you for your entire stay. I also insist you and your sister go on an all expense paid shopping spree, to wherever you like as an apology for how we became acquainted.”

“What if I said I want you to drive me around?” You asked playfully. You couldn’t believe you were seriously flirting with this guy, but he was too interesting to just leave behind. You knew he was only offering the driver and shopping spree to persuade you not to report him to the authorities. You were pretty sure, that even if you did report him, nothing would come from it. He was the kind of rich that was above the law. You didn’t know what a Marquis was, but it likely meant he was a respected member of society, and nobody would believe some random American model saying she got kidnapped by him. He probably had thousands of women willing to give a kidney to go on a date with him. He was likely on some European eligible bachelor list or stalked by the paparazzi everywhere he went. You really wished you had your phone to google him.

“You are being serious?” He asked incredulously.

You were a bit offended he seemed so shocked by the suggestion. Was it that he didn’t drive that made your request so unbelievable, or was it the prospect of spending time with you? Crossing your arms, you stared back at him expectantly.

Scoffing, he rose from his seat and began to pace back and forth across the room, periodically glancing your way, never breaking stride.

He finally came to a stop when the woman from before entered the room and approached him. Speaking to her in a low tone that you couldn’t quite make out, she looked over at you with a surprised look on her face, before bowing to the Marquis, and rushing out of the room.

Still waiting for an answer to your question, you kept your arms crossed and stared straight ahead, even when he walked up next to you.

He lightly chuckled, and combed his fingers through your hair affectionately. “Your mood swings are so extreme. It’s a good thing you are so beautiful, or you might be considered a brat.”

Snapping your head to look up at him, you stuck your tongue out at him, and had to really focus not to bust out laughing at the expression that appeared on his face.

What did you have to lose at this point? “No one has ever stuck their tongue out at you, have they?” You inquired, with a snarky grin plastered across your face.

He scoffed and turned his nose up at you, so you took the oppurtunity to stand up and start walking towards the exit. “Let’s get a move on your majesty. I’m probably already late, and not showing up will cost me a small fortune. I’m under contract.”

“I have too many obligations. I cannot cancel everything to be your personal chauffeur.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you turned around slowly, and placed your hands on your hips. Do you really think you can kidnap an international model, and then just say oopsie and send her off with a random driver? Don’t answer that, I won’t like your answer. I don’t care if you’re the king of France, you have to give me a day to make this up to me. Understood?” You dropped your hands, and marched up to the impeccably dressed man, never breaking eye contact.

Stopping just centimeters from his face, you had to hand it to him; he never flinched. But if he thought you were gonna back down, he had another thing coming. Over your dead body.

Ever so slowly, he kissed each cheek with a lingering kiss on each. “Au revoir, une fille.”

Before he could back away, you grabbed his face and kissed him square on his lips, pressing your body against his.

Meanwhile in the security room:

the security on duty, several other security personnel, and the servants were watching this crazy girl interact with one of the scariest men in Europe.

“Do you think she could possibly be so stupid?” One of the security guards asked to no one in particular.

“She is an American.” Another replied.

“And a model.” One of the maids added.

“Why hasn’t he killed her? He’s never so patient with anyone. And the way she takes such liberties with his person. It’s unimaginable!” The valet that would be driving this girl if she survived long enough asked.

“I saw him with the sister last night as well and he was absolutely enthralled with her. I’ve never seen him speak to a woman so long. He likely wishes to get to her, and will use her to get the other.”

“I don’t envy them. It’s never a happy ending when the Marquis takes a personal interest in you.” The head of security stated.

“Maybe he will fall for her…”

The entire room broke out in an uproar of laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, a huge burly bodyguard lumbered out of the room, making his way to find his boss. Maybe if he convinced her to leave, his boss wouldn’t kill her.

Knocking at the door, just in case their activities had progressed, he waited several minutes for a response but none came. Turning to go back to the security room, and enjoy the show that was likely taking place on the other side of those doors, he froze at the sound of them bursting open.

“The entire day is just not possible. The best I can do is the morning.” The Marquis said as he followed the bossy American.

“Guess I’ll just have to kidnap you then. Which way to your cars?” She asked, still walking down the hall like she knew where she was going.

“I’ll have one brought around.”

“No I want to pick which one. Lead the way your majesty!”

Every employee watching, could not believe their eyes when the Marquis de Gramont, did just that.

[reniberries]

BARRACUDA . toji fushiguro

when your search for a job falls short for what feels like the millionth time in a row, you’re just about ready to give up until an odd proposition makes itself known to you.

chapter warnings: underground fighter!toji fushiguro, swearing, hurtful thoughts, lewd comments from men, mentions of drinking alcohol, smoking and drugs, attempted theft

total wc: 3.0k

— CHAPTER ONE . desperate measures

At this point, you wholeheartedly believed that the world was playing some kind of sick and twisted game on you.

It laughed at you, dangling the one thing you truly desired right in front of your face, only to snatch it away at the very last second, like taking a child’s favourite toy from them just as they’ve picked it up.

You were the child, so full of excitement and hope at the idea of starting new, being able to pick yourself off the ground, and the world was the adult who’d come into the room and decided you were undeserving of the toy in front of you. It picked up all that you desired, and placed it on top of a shelf that you were too small to get to.

Try as you might, you simply could not reach it. Well, metaphorically anyway.

In this moment, that’s exactly how you felt, clambering across the couch to reach your phone that had lit up with the notification of an unknown caller. Like every time before, you allowed yourself to feel excited. As though this was the very moment things would start to fall into place, and all the bad memories of the past would fade away as you paved the way for your new life.

And yet, you were let down, again.

The way your face immediately falls alerts your roommate, Sherri, to the conclusion of the phone call, hearing a repeatedly distinctive phrase that she knew you’d come to despise over time.

“I regret to inform you, but…” you’d hung up before the man on the other side had enough time to finish his sentence. The exasperated sigh you released from between your lips held a heartbroken tone, and all you could do was shake your head when Sherri quietly asks if you’re okay.

It hadn’t always been like this. Three months ago you were more than content working a few hours every week as a waitress in a small but well-known restaurant called ‘Alexie’s’, where you’d actually met Sherri, and although the management wasn’t the best at times, and you were sure the chef had a stick shoved further up his ass then you could’ve imagined, it was still something.

The job had given you something to do when you weren’t attending your nursing classes, or writing essays, and it worked like a charm at taking your mind away from your personal life when things went wrong.

Sure, some customers were complete and utter dickheads, expecting five star service and for you to wait on them hand and foot, but the majority of people were nice and the pay was more than worth dealing with some crappy person coming in and demanding you seat them and their eighteen other friends immediately, despite being fully booked.

You were heartbroken when the owner had set up a staff meeting to inform you and everyone else that the restaurant was unable to stay open.

Things had never been this bad before, and honestly, there wasn’t much you weren’t willing to do if it guaranteed you a job. Not when the cost of living had skyrocketed and all but royally fucked you over.

Sherri had been an angel throughout this situation you’d found yourself in, though you were slightly jealous the day she came back from an interview with the local supermarket, telling you how they’d happily hired her on the spot. She had been your rock to stick on while your life turned completely upside down, even going as far as offering to cover next months rent.

But you still needed to feed yourself each week, still needed to pay for the bus fare on your way into college, and even worse, you still needed to pay back the money you owed to your parents.

If moving back into your parents house was an option, you might’ve resorted to it considering how desperate things had become. But that wasn’t an option, and it never would be.

You couldn’t allow that to happen.

Not only was it impossible, seeing as they were living in an entirely different country, but you’d intentionally created that distance in order to get as far away from them as possible. Moving halfway across the world in order to escape them and their overbearing ruling that they held over your head was the first thing you’d done after graduating high school, and you weren’t about to go back on the promise you’d made to them that day.

Telling your mother and father that they would never see you again should’ve been heartbreaking. You should’ve been crying or screaming at them, and maybe, in a perfect world, they would have told you to stay, or that they didn’t want you to leave.

But again, the world was seldom perfect, and after the past few months, you truly were finding that fact out for yourself.

It was Sherri’s sweet voice that snapped you out of your daydream, still clutching your phone to your ear as you kneeled on the couch. “Why don’t we go out tonight? It might make you feel better.”

You let out another sigh, ready to shoot her offer down even though the suggestion was extremely tempting after the dreaded phone call, “Sherri, I can barely afford the bus right now, I can’t—”

She grinned before interrupting you, a sly look that you couldn’t decide if you liked or not.

“You really think I’d suggest that if I didn’t have a plan?” She raised a questioning eyebrow up at your form, “Lukah’s working tonight, do you know what that means?”

With a shrug, you settled back into the couch and pulled a blanket over your knees, staring back at your roommate and waiting for her to continue.

She leaned towards you from the opposite end, “free drinks!” She exclaimed, and moved her hands around as if her point had been obvious from the start.

“Didn’t he just start a new job though? We’ll end up getting him fired if he’s caught giving out free drinks,” Sherri giggled as if you’d said the funniest thing, and then her expression began to shift into something slightly more serious.

She hesitated to reply, and when Sherri got quiet, it could only mean trouble. “Well, the place he started working at, it's not exactly in the most... uh," it was if she was struggling to find the right words to say without scaring you away. "...Desirable of places, so he doesn't think his boss will care much," she finished with.

An eyebrow raised as you stared at her, wordlessly asking the short girl to elaborate. "It's in the Jujutsu District."

Ah, you thought, that would explain why she'd been slightly more reluctant to tell you.

The Jujutsu District was pretty notorious throughout the city, and especially with the younger population seeing as a large majority of clubs and bars could be found spread out around the area. You'd been a couple times, mainly to the small pubs that laid just on the outskirts, as most locals were well aware that it was smarter to stay clear of the place. It was no secret that the kinds of deals that typically went on out there were far from legal, though even the police had deemed the place a 'no-go zone' and were rarely seen patrolling anywhere near it.

But even you couldn't say no to a few free drinks after being so down on luck, and so, within a few seconds of dubiously nodding your head in agreement with Sherri, she was yanking on your arms to pull you away from the couch and into her room.

And within an hour and a half, the two of you had made your way out of the apartment hand-in-hand.

The club was filled to the brim, drenching you in a light sheen of sweat that glistened across your skin. Music blared in through your ears from every direction and created a dull ache that stretched across your forehead. You couldn't put your finger on the name of the song that was currently playing, although it brought an odd sense of déjà vu along with it.

Truthfully, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like going out with your friends. There was something so exciting about getting ready for the club and dancing the night away, smearing shimmery eyeshadow across your lids and lining them with a distinctive wing of eyeliner. The clothing you’d thrown on hugged every inch of your body, but it was hard to care about your slight discomfort when the edge of a glass was lifted to your mouth, lips lined and covered in a colour so signature to your look.

Lukah was a godsend, sneaking both you and Sherri drinks over the counter every time either of you walked up to the bar, and just like Sherri had said, it didn't seem like his manager couldn't give two shits.

Sherri grabbed your wrist after you placed the shot glass back down on the bar, void of whatever liquor Lukah had offered the two of you. Leading you over to the sea of bodies on the dance floor, you could barely hear your roommate when she said "c'mon, my favourite song just came on!"

It was borderline provocative the way you and Sherri danced together. Her back was pressed to the front of your body, arms lifted and wrapped around your neck, and the way your hips swung against each other to the beat of the music was enough to gain more than a little attention from the boys that littered around the dance floor.

Neither of you bothered to entertain those who tried to approach either of you. Either, they came on way too cocky for their own good, or were sporting some serious baby face, and that was enough for you to shake your head, waiting for them to do the walk of shame back to their friends.

One man had come up to Sherri and asked for her number, only to continue bothering her even after she'd told him no multiple times. After the third decline and narrowly avoiding his grabby hands heading for her hand, Sherri twisted her head around and planted a delicate kiss on the corner of your mouth, exclaiming loudly that she "couldn't wait to get home and get you alone," and that was enough for him to briskly walk away.

It was no surprise honestly, as not only did you look and feel beautiful, but Sherri looked like a supermodel in her little black dress and heels. Plus, you could admit that the male attention did help a little in lightening the mood you'd been in before the two of you left the house.

"Do you wanna get another drink?" Sherri shouted over the music.

You shook your head, "I'm gonna get some air, I'll meet you at the bar." She gave you quizzical look, as to question why. You lifted your hand out in front of you, a white lighter and pack of Marlboro Gold's held within it.

Making your way outside was much more difficult of a task than you had expected, shoving your way through the endless amounts of bodies that had filled the club, probably knocking a drink or vape out from someones grasp as you went on your way.

The cold November air caused a shiver to crawl its way over your barely clothed body after you exited the building, and it felt heavenly as it washed away the sweat that had started accumulating across your skin. A flicker of light shone against your eyes, along with the sound of flint sparking from the lighter held in your right hand and a deep inhale.

Several bodies littered outside of the club, some clearly had the same idea as you, cigarettes clutched between their two fingers as they chatted away to their friends, others were still waiting in line to be let in, ID's held out for the large bouncer to take a look at, and there was even a couple who'd clearly had too much to drink, snogging away in a corner as if they weren't in the company of others.

It was quite a surreal feeling, as you leant against the cold brick wall, bringing your hand up to your face to take another inhale of the stick held in them. Three hours ago, you'd almost been reduced to tears, feeling like the world truly had it out for you, yet now, you couldn't help but enjoy the dizzy feeling crawling up your spine, making you sway slightly.

Your problems hadn’t been solved with the sip of an alcoholic drink, far from it in fact. They would still be there to plague your thoughts tomorrow morning, even as you battled the headache you knew was coming, but at least in this very moment, as you let the tipsy feeling encompass your body, you could relax.

That feeling didn't last for long.

Just as you'd closed your eyes, smoke pillowing out from your parted lips, you felt a violent tug on the bag attached to your shoulder.

The stranger takes another pull on your right arm, causing you to drop the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and the burgundy handbag falls out of your grasp.

“Hey!” Your voice is slightly slurred, an effect of the alcohol you’d consumed minutes prior, however the anger and small hint of fear is clearly heard in your words. It takes you a few seconds to register the tall man running away from you, clad in dark jeans and a hoodie pulled over his head, and your bag clutched in his hands.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you start running after him. “Hey, jackass!” You repeat, “give me pack my purse!”

Your voice echoes through the street, yet it seems like everyone around you is too far gone to even notice or care.

Discomfort surrounds the heels of your feet, but it doesn’t stop you from giving up the chase as the man turns left into a dark alleyway. You’d chastise yourself later for the self preservation you seemed to lack in that very moment, completely ignorant to the dangerous connotations of following a strange man into a secluded area such as this, in the middle of the night. But that purse has everything you owned at the minute, your phone, wallet and any small amount of cash you currently had, and you couldn’t just let it slip from your arms.

He twists his head to look at you, as if shocked to see that you were actually following him.

It was at this moment that someone stepped out in front of him, and as soon as the thief got closer to the mysterious stranger, they threw their arms out and shoved him down to the ground.

Your bag went flying from his hands and onto the pavement.

Even from where you were standing, you could hear the thief’s harsh intakes of breath, winded from how hard he had hit the ground, and your saviour stepped over the man’s body.

He picked up your bag from the ground, slowly making his way over to you.

Finally, it dawned on you that while he had saved you from losing quite literally everything you owned, that didn’t make him any less dangerous than the man who’d stolen from you in the beginning, and as he stepped towards you, panic started to make its way up your spine.

“Don’t come any closer!” You screamed at him. His steps faltered, but he didn’t stop moving, “I have a knife!” You didn’t, and it was probably pretty obvious that you’d lied as his eyes raked over your body, searching for anything that remotely resembled a weapon.

You could hear him release a small laugh as he came even closer, holding out your purse for you to take. “I believe this is yours?”

Gingerly, your hands clasped around the strap, pulling it towards your chest and releasing a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” you said, and began to quickly check that everything was still left inside, untouched.

He watched as you did so, a dark, thin eyebrow raised in questioning.

It was here, as the moonlight lit up his face, that you got a good look at your saviour. He was tall, big enough to feel imposing as he stood several feet away from you, with long black hair that cascaded down his back in a way that made you slightly jealous. He looked down at you with some of the most alluring brown eyes you’d ever seen, almost hazel with the way the street lamps highlighted his face from behind you.

A kind smile lulled you into a false sense of security as he opened his mouth to speak. “What kind of idiot runs after a guy like that in the middle of the night?” His tone was teasing, coinciding with the smirk he wore.

“Well,” you snorted sarcastically, “everything I own is in this bag. If I’d let him take it, I wouldn’t have anything left.” Maybe you should’ve been slightly nicer to the man that had just saved your life’s savings, but at the moment you couldn’t take any chances, not when you were so obviously isolated from the main street that was littered with drunks, druggies and the like.

He laughed at your comment, but shrugged and held out his hands, as if to say ‘there you go’.

You let out an awkward cough, trying to fill the silence. “I’m, uh… gonna go now, my friend is waiting for me back at the club,” you held out a thumb to point behind you, as if he’d know exactly where you’d meant despite the several buildings behind you filled with dancing strangers.

He nodded without saying anything else, and you took that as permission to make your leave.

Just as you’d turned your back on him, started to make your way back towards the club, his voice rung out again and stopped you in your tracks.

“Maybe I could help you out.”

authors note: so, the first chapter of barracuda is officially finished! this is the largest piece of writing i’ve done in a very long time and while i’m probably being overly critical, i do think at some point i will go back and edit it once the series is finished! but, let me know how you feel about this and if you liked it! i am very excited to see where this story goes. reni xx

© 2023, reniberries. please do not copy any of my writing or repost to other websites.

[zablife]

Ordering some fluffy, maybe smutty Hangman banter, please 🤭 No pressure though 🥰

Five servicemen played pool in the corner, the blonde constantly giving you the eye. You averted your gaze, biting your cheek to keep from smiling. "Looks like someone's got a crush," the new waitress said with a smirk. 

Going back to your work behind the bar, you shrugged. "He's handsome in a Ken doll kinda way, I suppose."

"Well if you're not gonna fuck him, I sure will," she said bluntly, sending a little wave in his direction. Jake gave her a dazzling smile, showing off his shining white teeth and you turned away to finish your work behind the bar.

Just then a handsome older gentleman approached asking for a beer and you began pouring it from the tap as you engaged in polite conversation. He told a joke and you laughed. You found it advantageous to play along, finding the tips better than the punchlines most nights. 

You hadn't noticed, but Jake had sauntered over, a cocky strut to his walk as he approached. "When you get a chance, I'd like another round, sweetheart," Jake announced politely, his southern drawl more pronounced after a few beers. You whipped around to see him leaning over the bar, tanned forearm stretched across the polished wood.

"Just a minute," you said, holding up one finger, surveying the people crowding the bar. You finished with the customer in front of you, giving him plenty of attention in order to maximize your tip. Tucking the cash he gave you inside your back pocket, you turned back to Jake. 

Handing him another beer, you couldn't help but notice the disappointed look in his eye. "Too busy for me tonight, darlin'?" he asked, taking a swig from the bottle. He watched the other man at the end of the bar carefully before glancing back at you. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you said, jerking your head toward the new waitress. Jake chuckled, placing his beer on the bar and reaching for your hand. 

"Jake, I'm two deep," you told him, pulling away as you grabbed the glasses you needed.

"I'd like to be deep inside you right now," he said low enough only you could hear. You shot him a warning glance as you mixed the cocktails that had been ordered, feeling his eyes boring a hole into you. 

“Don’t make me ring the bell, Seresin,” you threatened, tapping the sign behind you. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jake replied, holding his hand to his heart. He knew the rules and he would never disrespect a lady. However, he would annoy you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Sure you don’t need your bell wrung, darlin’? You’re awful tense,” he said, unable to hold back his laughter.

Your arm jerked up toward the rope, but Jake caught your wrist just in time. “Too much?” he asked apologetically.

“I’m tired, Jake. Let me get this round out, please,” you begged. He nodded, releasing you so you could serve the drinks. Coming back to where he stood with an exhausted expression on your face he asked, "You gettin' a break tonight or do you live back there now?"

"It's called work, Jake. Not everyone can play with jets all day then flirt all night," you retorted as Penny swept behind you with a fresh tray.

"Penny, this young lady needs a break. She looks positively fatigued," Jake called to the proprietor.

Penny looked up from behind the bar with a quirked eyebrow, then back at you. “I’m fine. Ignore him," you said dismissively.

"No, you should go. You've been busting your ass all night," she agreed. “Get out of here!” she implored with a wave of her hand. Knowing it was useless to argue, you removed your apron and stowed it under the counter before allowing Jake to lead you away.

The new girl approached the bar, resting her tray on the bar as she watched you walk away arm in arm, Jake leaning down to place a heated kiss to your lips before slapping your ass. "Hey, what the fuck?" she asked with indignation and growing curiosity. She had wanted to be the one to go home with the handsome aviator.

Penny snickered, "That's just the Seresins, you'll get used to 'em, honey.”