#I’m going a little bit insane but screw it

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

Stargazing

GUESS WHO WAS STUPID AND DECIDED TO STAY UP EATING TIRAMISU AND STARGAZING UNTIL 1AM

:D

This is a silly messy rambly post because while I initially intended to stay up all night if necessary to see the asteroid I only ended up photographing til midnight and I’ve got a camera roll FULL of photos but I’ll sort through them tomorrow to put together a cute aesthetic-y post

I snapped shots of the night sky without the telescope early in the evening:

(The brightest star in the middle is the asteroid Ganymed, I tried to take this picture as steadily as I could. Just above and to the slight left of the tree you can see a small cluster of stars - the Pleiades!! I wanted to get a close telescope shot of them but alas by the time I got properly set up they’d moved out of range)

Alhamdulilah this camera really captures the view I get on a clear night, I can see stars quite well. The sky was so wonderfully clear tonight Alhamdulilah ^_^ oh I feel ecstatic my first proper stargazing session ever and it was just- breathtaking

When I saw the asteroid properly, close up, I gasped in amazement

Despite my best efforts, I struggled to perfectly capture the asteroid because by attaching my phone to the telescope it destabilises it so I had to hold it steady and… I mean I’m not perfect

But I did the best job I could ^_^

Same for, what I believe was the half moon and Mars close by? I forgot to check the app by this time but I’m pretty sure it was Mars

Cool artsy shot of the telescope (and my starry jumper yes it’s just hung up there) with the moon and Mars in the background

Okay I’ll have to reblog with the rest of the great photos bc photo limit but also I’m tired

Today has been a long long long long day and it has been extremely taxing so on the one hand it was stupid as hell to stay up like this

On the other hand. My soul needed a rest and cleanse as much as my body does

[a-lonely-dunedain]

Go to the DMV without something going horribly wrong challenge (impossible)

[webbluvrsugar]

I'm loving the bully!reader trope.

Currently thinking about reader teasing him but like physically teasing him, Walking past him as her ass rubs against him. During movie nights sitting next to him, touching his thigh and going up. Whispering nasty shit in his ear. Meeting him in the hallway to make out and then leaving him rock hard, alone and desperate for more.

With bully!reader you wake up something in all of us, that we didn't know we had. You bring back to life the tag.

a/n: omg yes I love this trope soooo much! And thank you so much, this is a huge compliment, I’m so glad y’all are liking it!!

﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ bully!reader teasing Ethan ‘cause she knows how it gets him…

He doesn’t think you do it on purpose at first, specially because you’re not the brightest bulb in the bunch — he’s noticed that when you two started dating — even if you convince yourself that you are by ordering him around and mocking him to insanity, he just thinks you’re a bit careless with the things you do, that you don’t notice how he gets.

For example, when you ask him to get you something from a high cabinet, you always make sure to arch your back a little more, get your ass flush with crotch and then make fun of him when he gets turned on for it. — “Oh my god, are you seriously that easy?” You’d say in a high pitch girly voice, laughing and giggling at him as you leave the room. — He never thought you’d be that mean, he only realised you had the courage to do it when you started putting him on the spot, always in these compromising situations to get a boner out of him.

Like in class, when you’d sit besides him to whisper — “My back hurts soo much, you need to stop giving it to me that rough.” — and he’s suddenly gripping his pencil harder than he was before, trying not to picture your head on the pillow and the way your ass looked with every thrust he gave you.

But the worst thing you’d do would be randomly stopping him after lunch with an angry frown to trick him. “Meet me in the library, can’t believe you’ve even had the courage to do that!”

Now, Ethan doesn’t know what the fuck he’s done wrong, he usually knows how to calm that little demon in you, but now he really thinks he screwed up when you turn around in your kitten heels and sprint your way there. He follows you in an instant.

“Listen, I don’t really know what I’ve done but I just —“ He’s cut off with an angry grunt and a command that follows suit.

“Sit down.” He does, you sit besides him.

“I’m serious, I have no idea.” He mutters, doe eyes staring into yours as you drop your books on the table and turn to him. “If you could just —“

“Shut up, loser.” And then your lips are on his, both hands on his shoulders before one goes down to his thigh, slowly going up to the zipper on his pants.

Of course.

Your hand is quick to nest itself inside his pants, manicured nails brushing against the tip of his cock before you slightly squeeze him, pull away with a smirk, and just when he thinks you’d get on your knees, you stand, kiss him on the cheek.

“What? You got class.” You say with a smile, pouting as if you’ve done nothing wrong.

So now, not only does he have to walk around with a boner, he also has to carry the books you casually forgot there.

Next time you’re both in bed, he’ll make sure he gives it to you rougher.

[captivating-flavors]

protection | caleb

pairing: yandere!caleb x reader

prompt: -

summary: caleb locks you up as a way to protect you.

words: 1,299

warning(s): MDNI, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION, yandere!caleb, obsessive!caleb, ooc caleb, cursing/profanity, caleb is (very) insane in this, spoilers to caleb's lore, rearranging of caleb's lore

a/n: ok this is super experimental since ive never tried this sort of style and ive never written anything as dark and unhinged before but rewatching caleb's main story and myth got me wanting to rearrange it a bit and make him a little bit (ok a lot more) unhinged. so enjoy?? reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated <3

masterlist

Tedious.

That was what Caleb thought when he arrived back at his home in Skyhaven. He had just gotten back from the occasion he had been planning for the past month. After all, as the Colonel to the Farspace Fleet, it wasn’t hard for him to fabricate all the necessary cover story and circumstances along with paperwork that was required. But he wished, oh how he wished, that you would just stay put and stop putting yourself in harm’s way so he wouldn’t have to go through the lengths he did.

“Pip-squeak, I’m home.” You heard him call out to you from in front of his bedroom door.

You were on the other side of said door, but you refused to give him a response. You’d let out a curse internally, not expecting that he’d be back so soon, especially when you’re nowhere close to breaking down the door. At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cussed him out in your head.

You were smart. But Caleb was always one step ahead. Especially when it comes to ensuring your safety. He had made sure to take the precautions of installing a new and unbreakable door and he’d also taken the liberty to install a padlock in front of the door. He’d done all that when you passed out last night, due to the exhaustion of yelling and fighting him to let you go.

He took a leave of absence, reasoning being grief, to make sure to not let you out of his sight in the past month, leaving all his Colonel duties to his adjutant and Lieutenant Colonel. Of course, they were the only ones to know that that was merely an excuse. Caleb had no idea, though, how long his leave of absence would be, since you are not to be left to your own devices. For now.

But he had to leave the apartment today. And true to his preconceptions, you had planned to make the most of it. You had been trying for hours to break the door down, to no avail of course. Hence, you’re still stuck here.

Caleb sighed from beyond the door, “I’m coming in, so you better stay away from the door.”

You stepped back and true to his word, the door swung open a few moments later. He was wearing his usual black colonel uniform, looking as put together as ever. You felt his gaze assessing you for a moment before he closed the door behind him.

“You’ve hurt yourself.” Caleb said, noting the bruised and slightly scraped areas on your shoulders, elbow and knees.

You still refused to give him a response, turning your face away from him. He sighed, “C’mon, let’s get you patched up.” He reached out and grabbed your arm, steering you towards the bed.

“No. Fuck you, Caleb.” You moved away from him, dodging his touch.

Oh, how stubborn you were. His unruly little captive bird. He was not planning on using his evol on you, but he eventually does. You were being difficult, he had to keep you from putting more distance and to get you to sit on the bed.

“Let me go, Caleb.” You said with gritted teeth, trying to pull your arm out of his grip.

“Don’t make this hard for yourself.” Caleb said as he loosened his evol to get you to sit on the bed and knelt in front of your sitting form.

He had one hand on your thigh to make sure you’d stay put, as he used his evol with his other hand to retrieve the first aid kit from atop one of his bookshelves. He took his hand off you since he needed both his hands to get the disinfectant onto the cotton balls.

“Screw you!” You pushed at his shoulders as he attempted to press the disinfectant-soaked cotton ball against the scrape on your knee.

He hated using his evol on you but god, you were making it so difficult for him, leaving him no choice.

“Now, now. That’s not what you’re supposed to say when I’m the only one who knows you’re alive.” He chuckled.

“No! The Association–”

“–believes you’re dead. They all did.” His tone laced with finality.

He didn’t plan on actually following through with his threats, at first. But you kept sneaking out and venturing off to the abandoned research facility. Not just once or twice, which he would’ve let slide, but you just kept doing it. Don’t you know that curiosity usually kills the cat? He was just worried about you. He just wanted to keep you safe. Why can’t you just understand that everything he does is for your own good?

Yes. He did just come from your funeral. Well, fake funeral, technically. He had to make up a reason for your friends and colleagues not to look for you. It wasn’t hard to orchestrate a fake explosion and tell everyone that you died in it. He didn’t even have to provide a body for them to bury, telling them that your remains were unretrievable.

“Caleb, you… you can’t do this.”

“Oh, Pip-squeak. I just did.” He looked up at you and smiled. His smile, the one you used to love. The one that used to be accompanied by that warm gaze of his, now nothing more than an expression that felt cold, sinister and detached. “Now, all you have to do is be a good girl and stay put.” He added and continued with patching you up with a band-aid, before moving on to the scrape on your shoulder.

“No!”

“C’mon, Y/N. Stop fighting me.” His tone was calm, but you could feel that he was getting angrier by the moment.

Why couldn’t you just stop fighting him? Why can’t you just be willing to accept the protection he so willingly offers you? Why can’t you just understand that everything he does is for your own good?

“Let me go.” You thrashed within the restraint of his evol and you felt him tighten his grip.

“This is all for your own good, Pip-squeak.” He continued to press the disinfectant towards your scraped shoulder, ignoring the hiss you let out. “Why can’t you just accept my protection?”

“Your protection?” You scoffed, “This is captivity, Caleb.”

“Protection, captivity. Same thing. As long as you’re safe. And you should know that you’re only safe when you’re with me.” He said with certainty. Because it’s true, isn’t it? He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

“If this is what you call protection, then I’m sick of it.” To say you were angry was an understatement, but you just couldn’t stop the tears of anger from falling. Upon hearing you sniffle; he looked up at you. The fact that you’ve been confined to this room for several weeks makes you want to rage, but you knew that this new version of Caleb is… unmovable. A detachment from the Caleb who’d easily fold at the sight of a single teardrop from you.

“If this is your attempt to have me give you more freedom, it’s not working, Pip-squeak.”

“Please, Caleb. Just let me go. I can’t take this anymore.” More tears started flowing.

“You can’t cry your way out of this, Y/N. This is all for your own good.”

He stood as he finished putting on the band-aid on your elbow. “I’m going to make you some food. Your favorite braised chicken wings. So, stay put.” He said as he left the room, leaving you alone with your tears and your determination to find some other way to escape. Because you have to. This was no longer the Caleb of your childhood and this was no longer a version of Caleb you’re willing to tolerate any longer.

-

taglist: @mayooness

[etherealrin]

Hey! Love your works, it's really nice to read them and I just love your style💖, may I request an isagi x reader but the reader is kaiser's little sibling? It sounds fun ☺️

⋆｡˚꩜ a comprehensive tutorial on how to piss off michael kaiser in his penthouse; by yoichi isagi.

yoichi isagi just wants to hang out with you...but your brother is making it quite uncomfortable

warnings: slight violent descriptions (as a joke), michael kaiser gives you no privacy, one mention of google translated german // wc: 957

note: i was giggling the entire time writing this LMAOO imo such a funny dynamic, the rivalry goes crazy.

your bubbly laughs that echo through the penthouse allow isagi to relax, just a little bit. the environment is new to him, and he’s afraid that the smallest slip-up will result in his head being chopped off by one of the rather large, menacing butcher knives lined against the marble kitchen walls.

but what’s even more threatening is the way kaiser is glaring at him, blue gaze more piercing than any dagger.

“micha, you’re making yoi uncomfortable,” you begin, shooting the blonde haired man your own look of annoyance. you turn your attention away from the mixing bowl in front of you to interlace your fingers with yoichi’s, trying to offer him some comfort. isagi wonders if theres nervous sweat on them.

“he’s in my penthouse, with my sibling? am i meant to leave him unattended, to let this donkey roam around with free will?” kaiser huffs, arms crossing.

yikes, was he in a mood today.

“you’re calling my boyfriend a donkey?” yeah, you were ready to throw hands right there.

isagi had practically jumped for joy when you’d invited him over to bake cookies. he somehow managed to forget that you were rival’s little sibling, and that your house was technically also michael’s—of course he would own a penthouse with a city view. michael was an oddly protective elder brother, or maybe his rivalry with yoichi just ran that deeply; was it not enough for isagi to steal the soccer ball on court? did he have to steal michael’s bloodline too?

“go, um, read a psychology book or something,” you say, wanting to get your brother off the scene. “hang out with ness! i’m sure he’d love to!”

yoichi nods his head hurriedly in agreement.

“you think you two are getting rid of me that easily? that’s-“ your brother is cut off mid-scoff, his phone ringing loudly and persistently. you snicker, knowing that you were about to win.

“was zum teufel,” michael spits, picking up the line.

“no, ness, i’m busy…what? you seriously can’t drive yourself? can’t i…uh….i guess you’re right,” he seems to be arguing with ness, going back and forth.

“you two lucky idiots are getting your wish,” michael snaps as he hangs up, hurrying out the door. before it closes, a warning: “isagi, if you try anything, i’ll screw you over before you can blink twice.”

“yeah yeah, shitty rose.” yoichi’s ego gets the best of him. great, now he’d been rude to your brother in front of you!

but you don’t seem to mind, maybe you didn’t care, humming softly as you add chocolate chips to the mix.

"you need to move out," yoichi doesn't think he can visit you if this is how your brother was going to be.

“hmmm, could be worse. what if we made s’mores cookies?” you reply excitedly.

“the ones with marshmallows?”

“yep! i think i have them somewhere,” you pull him into your startling large pantry. the size is almost that of a grocery aisle, and it’s stocked with an insane amount of protein powder—likely your brother’s doing—but you find the small package of the fluffy white sweets tucked away in a corner.

except, you can’t quite get to it, the nook being far above your head.

“let me,” yoichi says, reaching up. he has to be on the tips of his toes, curse michael kaiser for being so damn tall!

as yoichi fumbles above you for a bit, he doesn’t notice the odd position he’s forced you into, your back flush against the shelves. you’re not that much shorter than him, but he’s gripping onto your shoulder for support, and the proximity makes you flustered. he smells good, crisp and clean, a hint of citrus in the mix.

with a small flop, the bag finally comes crashing down, along with yoichi’s balance. he lets out a startled yelp, hurriedly latching onto your other shoulder.

oh.

you blink, fazed by his deep aquamarine eyes, and the way that your noses are practically touching. his breath is ticklish, irregular from the earlier struggle, and a cherry red blush painted across his entire face.

you’re both too scared to move, stuck in the haze, should you move? closer? maybe further?

it’s like that for an agonizingly long second—still—until yoichi chooses for the both of you, his fingertips make contact with your jaw and they’re warm, hot like the kiss he suddenly pulls you into.

you’re far too eager to reciprocate, hands finding their way into his soft dark locks. the cookie batter stays neglected on the sleek white countertop, both of you distracted and lost in another world.

when your lungs threaten to implode from lack of air, that’s when you pull away, gasping softly.

your boyfriend’s face is ten times redder now.

“sorry, i- i should’ve asked first,” yoichi stammers, flustered and unable to meet your eyes.

“it’s fine, i like you when you’re confident, yoi,” you smile, twisting a strand of his hair.

you fail to notice how the front door had opened, and you’re greeted with michael kaiser standing in the hallway, gawking at the two of you.

“why’s he in my pantry?” michael’s pissed now. “of all damn places, could you two not make out in the middle of my protein powder? seriously, that is gross. i won’t be able to drink that shit now!”

“oops,” you giggle. “you’re just upset that you don’t have someone.” your brother lets out an indignant huff, ready to start hell as he marches closer. you’re still snickering.

unfortunately, yoichi cannot find any of this nearly as funny as you do—no, he’s already thinking about the hell your brother’s going to give him during the game tomorrow, convinced that both of the kaisers would be the death of him.

a/n: michael says "what the hell" in german, i just wanted to make it diverse idk. like genuinely isagi is lucky if he makes it through the week dating a kaiser sibling...kaiser is not giving his blessing for the wedding LMFAO

masterlist!

[cjlouwho]

I need to… not care for a little bit. I’ve spent the majority of today scrolling and going through waves of disbelief, to sadness, to full on ache in my chest, to laughing at the sheer insanity of it all. I’ve barely eaten today, which is not me. I didn’t sleep last night. I know it’s so ridiculous because this is a tv show for crying out loud, but I’ve mentioned before that it kinda saved me. I started watching not long after my dad passed and it got me out of a really bad place. It made me want to write again, made me laugh and cry and feel things.

And now it feels like I’ve been stomped on. I know the show doesn’t owe me a thing, but the interviews with Tim and Oliver really got to me even moreso than the breakup itself. The nonchalance of it all. The way Oliver doesn’t seem to care about what Buck and Tommy meant to so many people. How he wants Buck to revert to his old ways, how he casually threw out that we wouldn’t see Tommy again. The way Tim talked Tommy up so much to kinda throw him aside in the end. And then Lou’s interviews were just sad. He put so much care and thought into Tommy, he deserved more. He was there for more than a paycheck, and they screwed him over.

I’ll get over it, I know. I keep telling myself it’s just a show, it doesn’t matter. But it still hurts that they didn’t even let us react to the breakup before shoving the fact that Tommy and Lou were done in our faces.

I’d love it if Tim made a statement of some kind, even if it’s telling us to get over it. I mean, he was the one posting the positive Tommy articles and the video asking if Buck’s found his perfect match. He kinda built this all up just to burn it to the ground. It’d be nice to know why. If Buddie fans get a long explanation as to why a 10 second karaoke clip was cut, I feel like we deserve something.

Anyway, I need to not be here. I need to not let this depress me. I need to remember what I thought about as I fell asleep before it was all fanfiction running through my head. I’m gonna try a day, to start. See if I can go longer. Focus on something else. As long as I’m here I’m gonna keep getting re-upset and overanalyzing every little thing.

Feel free to send me asks though! Let me know if anything happens! I’ll be back when it hurts a little less! 😘

[haveihitanerve]

I figured that I would actually provide the source material to the stuff im commenting on, so uh yeah, here ya go, more SFTH nonsense with my thoughts bc you guys actually seem to care and enjoy them strangely enough???

anyway yeah, you know the drill, dont care about my dumb little lizard brain squeals of joy, dont click the keep reading button bc its a lot lol :)

those of you who do(thanks) and continue!!!-

“One of you… is hosting a party…” Luke looking between them like ‘who tf is gonna move’ while AJ is literally already half out of his chair because he knows they’re gonna make him do it-(literally a quote from Tom[not verbatim but close] “we always make AJ guess, because he… has the most trouble with it, and thats a joy”)anyway-

Sam’s eyebrow raise at Tom across the stage

“Balding” whoever said that- i love you. Sam, of course, volunteers, he’ll never pass up an opportunity to rag on one of his besties and we love him for it

His grin, once again across stage, to Tom

“Vampire bugs bunny.” toms face- and Luke immediately pointing it out

“He can do Bugs Bunny, I cannot.” “you can do bugs bunny cant you” help the fact that they just know  all this ahhhhh <333333

“Oh shit, Which means I’m balding…” don't lie tom you cant wait to annoy AJ with this

“What do you want Luke to be?” Tom you evil evil genius

“This is for giving him balding-” don't act like its karma Tom this is all you ever wanted

“Someone who’s convinced he’s tall.” whoever said that, marry me- you're hilarious and clearly have good taste if you're at this show

Luke also laughing at the joke is a joy

Tom pacing as Luke takes control again, literally grinning giddily with excitement ugh they clearly love what they do so much and its so pure

Toms smile at “yay!” idk its just pretty

Aj idk what kind of accent this is but im loving it

But tf were those hand movements- are we wrapping presents? 

Ok even he broke at it, and sam was grinning- luke laughed, very nice

So im not a big bugs bunny person but even i can kinda catch on to what sams trying to do- very clever, im soooo many levels of curious to know if aj can guess it

“Carrot” !!!!!!he said CARROT!!!! YAY close

Tom crossing the stage to enter from the same door as Sam-honestly i cant with their stagecraft anymore help-

Also the doorbell is soooo much higher for tom than it was for sam- sams was at his chest, toms was above his head anyway

“Careful.” AJs glance up into the cosmos to figure out what tf that means and how its a hint

Toms doing great job of being insecure about his hair, loving it, and the audience is eating this up

“This guy sucks and i should know about that” AJ’s frozen face of fear because what is he trying to tell me, quick what does that mean- oh shit im screwed-

“Other front door.” yep! Theres the stagecraft comment- Tom dodged it quite obviously but Luke had to go for the joke

PFFFFFF oh wow Luke is doing a brilliant job of being tall, truly

“I was just looking in the mirror and I couldn't see him behind me.” oh i completely forgot about the vampire bit- thank you tom-

Also sam helping him out with the “ting!’ is great, we love to see them helping each other (for once lol)

“All of the characters of the looney tunes” oh aj so close

“Uh, the bunny one.” “oh please no!” XD NOOOO AJ!!! COME ON!!! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!

Luke breaking as well for it is the best 

Aj having to turn to look at him like “why did you let him choose this character- idk who this is.” 

“..lots of creatures” Luke literally folds, as Sam does the classic disappointed covering his face with one hand and tom has to walk away, classic

The way they join behind AJ like moral support kills me-

“Oh no you're really annoying me you're really---*expectant waiting* [bugging me]” nope aj is lost “fuckin-” now sam has to walk away LMAOOO

TOM LITERALLY ALMOST WALKING OFF STAGE IS INSANE

“Its like surveillance” aj- please, im begging you- we’re all begging you- go. simple. 

“Its called they piss you off.” Luke walking to the front of the stage so that everyone can see his disappointed head hang is crazy

“BUGS!!!” LADIES AND GENTLEMEN HES DONE IT AGAIN!!!! 

Oh no… oh no, aj please- please get it- please

“Bugs bunny.” YEAH!!!! YES YAY WOOHOO!!! HES DONE IT!!!!

Tom finally getting his moment to bring up his excellent addition- “its so crazy, i couldn't see him behind me in the mirror.” also walking to the front of the stage, thats gonna be a pattern

SAM LITERALLY KISSING AJ ON HIS BALD HEAD OMG IM GONNA CRY OF CUTENESS WHATTTTTT

MY HEART

“Hey my bald friend over here,” yess!!! Two in one!!! Nice work!!!

“Thats  your quirk.” man has never been so insulted in his l i f e 

Tom shrugging in answer as AJ smiles in disbelief is amazing

“I've got a pretty good angle.” while looking at the floor is what gives me life luke never change

“Is it like me ten years ago?” luke and tom both breaking at that- also, side note, they've known each other ten years to bring it up casually and have witnessed aj balding- moving on

Tom literally having to hug AJ after he guesses right XD i adore these little fucks so much

“You are so buff right now man.” Aj confused as to if this is real or…??? “Ok-?” laughs. oh these ridiculous goobers

“Fat friend.” wrong- wrong direction dude- up, not sideways🤭 so close

“All through this” still looking down, gestures to the space above his head that does not have body as much as he would like it to be

Luke having a breakdown on stage about an issue that he genuinely gets ragged on so much for- im losing my mind omfg-

“Tiny giant.” luke losing it again- and i gotta say thats a pretty nice way to describe it, i think he gets the point

Tom leaned forward in anticipation, the cutest smile on his face, sam leaned back, trepidatious 

“Im really- Im not *moves to the front of the stage and yells at the audience* tiny okay???” lukes loosing it niow

“Its very funny isn't it?” oh no, hes pacing and breaking the fourth wall- oh no

“Cause hes tall-” Tom perking up, “oh look! Im being included back in the sketch!” “and hes a normal height!” AJ isn't even bothering to think anymore, just enjoying the show

“Hes only 5’10” yes!!! Call him out Luke!!!

“And yet somehow Im a fucking short guy!!!” i just love the other three dudes expression in this scene, just pure delight at Luke finally snapping(albeit jokingly) and being like ‘yeah… tough luck’

Also, love Luke casually including the people no longer in the sketch back into it just to make a point and call out his legitimate grievances, love it

“Im not short!” oh now hes back in it ok-

“I don't know if im talking to a character or luke right now-” Tom and Sam breaking before he even finishes the sentence lol

“I don't know either.” oh poor baby XD

“Luke,” genuinely starts to address him by his actual name, gods i love them- he was about to legitimately comfort him before sam came in- i know it(or insult him further but like wtv, same thing lol)

“Connnn-vict!” Luke trying to speak and then giving up- AJ!!! Vince! Not Vikt!!!

YAYYY!!!! HE DID IT!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this segment of me losing my mind about SFTH and their incredible bromance and also humor, thanks for tuning in, see you next time(maybe, if you guys still want it lol)!

@dawn-speckled you wanted it last time, hope you want it still??? anyway, thanks for reading, it means a lot, and byebye 👋

[yumeflower]

YO MOOTIE!! hruu today?? I’m sending in another request to you hehe, the last one was amazing btw I wanted to let you know that 😭💗 anywho here I go :P and feel free to decline if it’s too much no big deal hehe

May I request 1x1x1x1 with Survivor! Reader who is a knight (ANDD prince 👀) who is actually really good at fighting off killers and is able to kill them easily but the reader is hesitant towards 1x4 bc the reader has a little bit (a huge) crush on him? And as a little bonus the reader is always flirty towards him hehe

Thank you again!! Remember to take care of yourself and take breaks :-) adiós!

💢☠️1x1x1x1☠️💢 X Knight!Royalty! Reader

Hii Ian,tysm I really try to do my writting good!1! You take care of yourself too <3

Trigger warnings-none

———————————————————————

•when 1x had saw you kill other killers,he was terrified which is very suprising! You scaring THE being of hatred?1!1

•when the round came when he was the killer,he felt a little screwed

•you were much stronger then him! HIM! His ego was a bit deflated to say the least.

•he was surprised when you would flirt with him all the time! Why is he getting FLIRTED with by the very person who could kill him! He HATES you!!(at the moment in time)

•he noticed you seemed a bit nervous,he loves to tease you about it but was always scared of the possibility of you killing him

•gets mad when you flirt with him,but just as a disguise because you make him blush insane amounts of green.

•he thinks your armors sexy

•calls you nicknames like ‘my little scrap metal’ or ‘ragged royalty’ to make you mad but obviously you just end up flirting with him resulting in him getting even more angry then before

•if anyone hits on you he will just kill them,even if you were about to.

•likes to spar with you

•if nobody else is around he’ll kiss you on the armor.(if you wear any that is)

•if you ever have your crown he would like to swap crowns with you.

•if you do wear the armor he’ll get very distracted due to his hate-love for shiny things(I think he’d do that thing Eda does where if you put a shiny thing in front of him he’ll immediately forget what he was saying)

•likes to bow down to you,kiss your hand then bite it to catch you off guard.

———————————————————————

I hope you liked this Ian!! I always appreciate your requests <33!!

[inkedells]

dbf!joel teaching innocent!reader how to ride him? and maybe she's rlly shy about it and complains about how it hurts n stuff? also i love how you write dirty talk, i need this filled to the brim with it!!

A/N: sorry about being completely awol for so long!! next part of my plushie series should be soon but for now have this little drabble <3

warnings: SMUT, insane dirty talk, age gap, needy!reader, joel miller thoroughly enjoying ruining reader's innocence.

my masterlist

mdni! | requests open.

“Just like that, honey, bounce on it.”

You sat naked in Joel’s lap with your hands behind you, settled on his knees.

“H-Hurts, Joel, please—”

“Hey, hey,” Joel cooed, eyes searching for yours as your lashes fluttered, “Hurt’s good, sweetheart. Y’know why?”

You whined before sinking down to his hilt, trying your best to rest there despite the ache from his cock being so deep inside of you. “Why?” You whispered in a voice so small, Joel huffed a small laugh.

“It means you’re tryin’ super hard to make me feel good. So when you’re hurtin’ a little, I know for sure you’re taking it like a good girl.”

You leaned forward until your arms wrapped around Joel’s shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

“I’m the best girl, Joel, I promise. Gonna—Gonna show you. Gonna make you cum.” With that, you lifted your hips and slammed them back down again, repeating that motion over and over.

You were hungry for him, wanting him in as many ways as possible, so with your eyes screwed shut and your senses intoxicated with his scent, your hand blindly searched for Joel’s much larger one and brought it up to grope your breast. Even that silent request was dripping in innocence; Little things like the tremor in your much smaller hand, the way your most desperate touches were gentle, and perhaps his favorite show of your innocence, your pleading whimpers and moans that were so clearly unintentional. He couldn’t explain it, but the hottest things about you were the things that you didn’t know were hot.

And, well, Joel felt like corrupting that innocence he adored so much, just a little bit. “What do you want me to do with these, baby girl?”

“Um,” You hesitated shyly, your hips slowing down as the humiliation of the situation seeped in, “I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Oh, but you do know, honey. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I-I want you to… play with them,” You felt your confidence growing with every second you spent thinking about your biggest fantasies, until your hips subconsciously started back up again at that brutal pace and the rest of your “request” came spilling out, “Mess with them. And… And squeeze them. Suck on them, too, Really hard. ‘Till there’s marks. Can you, Joel?”

He groaned a little at the depravity of your words and the delicious way you were messily bouncing on his cock, but your desires inspired a need for a change in plans.“Go ahead and climb down, sweetheart.”

You looked up at him, concern in your eyes as you rambled. “W-What? M’gonna fuck it better now, I swear, gonna let you go in real deep and I’ll squeeze it more so you feel good, my friends told me guys like that, and I forgot to do it before but I’ll do it now, and, and I’ll bounce quicker, I—”

“—Oh, honey,” Joel tsked, shaking his head slightly before bringing his mouth to your ear, “Do you want me to fuck your tits or not? Get down.”

my masterlist

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Forgive and Forget

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Dean says something he shouldn’t to you, and now he has to make up for it.

“I’m going to my room.”

“Hold on!” Your dad’s hand gripped your shoulder, and your retreat was halted. “You’re not gonna just ignore what happened.”

“Really? Because I was planning on doing just that,” you huffed, pulling your arm from Dean’s hand.

“Y/N, sit down.”

There was no arguing with your father when he used that tone. With as much attitude as you thought you could get away with, you yanked out a chair and plopped down on it, crossing your arms and staring up at your father.

“You deliberately disobeyed my orders!” Dean thundered. “You could’ve gotten killed! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that you needed help!”

“Help? Help what, getting you killed?” Dean scoffed.

You grit your teeth.

“If you didn’t think I could help, why was I there?”

“It’s not like there’s anything else I can do with you!”

Your mouth was half-open for a retort when his words really hit you.

He didn’t want you there.

He thought you were useless. Helpless, even.

“You almost got killed!”

“It’s not like there’s anything else I can do with you!”

He brought you along—heck, maybe he only kept you—because he had no choice. You weren’t wanted, and you never had been.

When your mom had kicked you out, you’d seen it coming—she never even pretended to want you.

But Dean did.

You didn’t give your dad a chance to see how his words affected you. You jumped up from the chair and sidestepped him, almost running to your room despite his protests.

…

Dean was screwed. He knew it the moment the words had left his lips, but he hadn’t been able to stop you from leaving. He tried to go after you, but Sam stopped him—Dean hadn’t even known Sam was listening.

“Don’t,” Sam said, grabbing Dean’s arm. “That…she’s gonna need a little bit after that.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Dean said.

“I know you didn’t.”

“You know how I get when she…”

Sam was patient. “I know. But she doesn’t. You’re gonna have to make up for this one.”

…

Dean was trying to make up for it, he really was. He’d brought food to your room every night, since you refused to come out, but you left it untouched every time. He’d tried apologies through your closed door, notes slid under your door, little gifts—he’d even offered to let you drive Baby.

Nothing was working, and Dean was running out of options.

…

“You’re gonna have to talk to him again at some point,” Sam said.

You had joined your uncle on a run that morning, trying to spend as much time out of the bunker as possible so your dad couldn’t track you down.

“I’m not gonna make him talk to me,” you huffed, speeding up just to spite Sam. It didn’t work, and with his insanely long legs, he matched your pace easily.

“Make him? Have you not seen him this past week? Dean’s doing everything he can to get one minute of time with you.”

“He’s just doing that because he feels bad.” Your attempt to remain stoic throughout this conversation was getting harder as your words hit you. You’d been thinking these things for a week, but saying them out loud felt different.

“Hey.” Sam slowed to a stop, and his hand on your arm had you stopping right beside him. “Come on, that’s not true.”

“He didn’t want me on that hunt, and he doesn’t want me here.” You wish you could say that your face was only glistening with sweat. “But there’s nowhere else he can put me, so here I am. I’m not gonna make this any harder for him.”

“Where are you getting all of this?” Sam asked, his brows drawn together in concern.

“Dad said—“

“Your dad said something stupid after a bad hunt.” Sam sighed. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. If I believed everything my dad said to me after a bad hunt…” Sam shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Point is, Dean didn’t mean that he doesn’t want you here. I’ve never seen him happier than he’s been since you moved in. But I do know that he didn’t want you on that hunt. He knew it’d be dangerous, and…” Sam leaned down to stare into your eyes, making sure he had your full attention. “Look, your dad should be the one telling you this, but I’m gonna do it anyway. He doesn’t want you on hunts because he doesn’t want you in danger, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if something happened to you. Neither do I.”

The tears were flowing freely now, and you didn’t try to stop them.

“How do I know you’re right?” You sniffled.

“You just gotta trust me. And trust your dad.”

“That’s—that’s not—“ you took a deep breath, trying not to choke on your tears. “That’s not easy for me.”

“Hey…” Sam pulled you into his arms, his hold secure. “I know it isn’t. And I know what you’ve been through. But me and your dad, we’re not like that. We’re your family, your real family. Your mom, she didn’t earn that. But we—me and your dad—we’re trying to earn it.”

Your grip tightened on your uncle.

“You did—you have,” you assured him.

“Ok then.” Sam was grinning when he pulled away. “You’re our family too, kid. And that’s more than just blood. We’d do anything for you, and don’t you ever doubt it.”

You and Sam were silent on the way back to the bunker, and when you reached it Sam retreated to his room after looking at you and nodding towards Dean.

Dean jumped to his feet when he saw you, and he seemed pleasantly surprised when you didn’t try to escape to your room.

“Hey,” Dean said once you were alone. “I…how’ve you been?”

“I’m…” you sighed. “I’ve been a jerk.”

Dean chuckled, relaxing slightly.

“I don’t know about that. I mean, I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.” You couldn’t meet your dad’s eye as you spoke. “I-I should’ve known you didn’t mean it, I just…after my mom…”

“I never should’ve said that to you. I didn’t mean it,” Dean said. “I want you here. Always. I don’t know what I’d do without you, that’s why…I guess that’s why I got so scared.” Dean’s gentle hand on your chin had you finally meeting his eye. “I need you to know that I love you. I need you to know how much I love you.”

You all but jumped into your dad’s arms, and he accepted the hug willingly.

“I do know,” you said. “I love you too.”

Dean smiled. “So, we’re good?”

“I don’t know…” you sighed. “I might need another week or so of you sucking up.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, now you’re just being a brat.”

You squealed when Dean started pinching your sides, giggling as you tried to escape his hold.

“Nuh uh, you’re not getting away that easily.” Dean laughed. “I’ve spent a whole week trying to get close to you, I’m not letting go now.”

“Da-had, stop it!” You laughed, and after one last dig into your side, Dean finally relented.

“Alright, squirt.” Dean grinned. “Let’s go for a drive, get some food.”

“You sure you want me to be there?” You asked. Dean turned suddenly, looking at you with alarm. That is, until he saw the grin on your face.

“Alright, you little smart mouth.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Get in the car.”

You laughed.

“Yes sir.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ 5 in the mornin’, trafalgar law (nsfw)

law never gets mad when you call. even if its to have phone sex with him at 5 in the morning.

only back to drop for my baby daddy’s birthday <3. might feed y’all some more later today i gotta see how tired i am 🙇🏾‍♀️

it nearing 5 in the morning when you’d started to grow restless. usually you pulled all nighters on the night where law had to pull doubles at the hospital, most lasting anywhere from 36 to 48 hours. but no matter how many times he told you to stop waiting up two days straight for him—you didn’t listen.

you were sure that sleep was coming soon. law only worked four days a week, ranging at 96 hours of being head surgeon, and most of that time, you spent it awake, up and waiting for him—you were insane. you checked the time and figured that he’d finally be on his three hour break, permitting him to finally get at least a nap in his office quarters designated for senior doctors.

you began to grow irritable as you felt your body heat up randomly. you couldn’t remember the last time you had sex; it’s been a couple weeks due to how busy both you and law were. though the sun would be coming up soon, you’d felt the sudden urge to masturbate and hopefully release some tension like you usually did in order to sleep, but knew your fingers were nothing in comparison to law’s.

contemplation picked at your brain. you bit your lip, waging a mental war with yourself on what you should do. you were sure law would be napping right now—getting the little bit of sleep he usually did before his next and last surgery at eight in the morning, just a few hours from now. he always answered the phone whenever you called, but you felt so bad for disturbing him, even if it was just to get a nut from the sound of his voice alone.

you decided to try and settle it out yourself in hopes that you could have at least one orgasm before sleep naturally came over you. but with your plush legs spread open to the wall full of pictures of you two, you screwed your eyes shut in frustration when you couldn’t get yourself to cum. twenty minutes had passed by and you were growing annoyed for the lack of a nice orgasm.

finally giving into your nasty desires, you picked up your phone and clicked on law’s contact to facetime, resting the phone on the pillow by your ear, hand still between your hands and rubbing at your clit. you’re breathing heavily when he finally answers.

“hm?” you look over at your phone and notice that law is laying down with near closed eyes, the room to his quarters barely lit. “you alright baby?” his voice is groggy and tired. you felt bad for bothering him.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out. “just wanted to hear your voice is all. go back to sleep.” you’re prepared to hang up and just deal with your orgasm yourself but stopped when law hums in decline.

law opens one eye and furrows his brow as to why he was staring at the ceiling. “it’s alright. you okay?”

you breath out, rubbing your clit at the sound of his voice. even that was enough to get you to cum. “yeah, i’m good. just miss you.”

your man lets out a yawn as he finally sits up a bit and eyes the camera. “i miss you too. you sure you’re okay? you sound like something is bothering you.”

“law, please talk to me,” you whisper softly, “say something sexy, please baby. how was your day at work?”

“it’s fine. had a knee and back surgery today. the back one nearly blew me out from how intricate it was. one wrong move and you could nick an artery in the spinal cord and permanently paralyze the patient…” it doesn’t take long for your doctor boyfriend to hang onto your words once he hears your unsteady breathing grow louder. “you in bed right now?” you hum out a response and nod your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. now law was more awake as the topic of conversation intrigued him. his voice remains low as he thinks about you in all your glory. “you touching yourself?”

“mhm,” you let out. “keep—keep telling me about your day, baby please.”

“you really couldn’t wait, huh?” he chuckled lowly. it was just like you to be impatient. “thought i told you i’ll deal with you when i get home in a few hours, hm? you know my work days are boring.”

“fuck,” you drew out. it wasn’t unusual for you to be the perverted one in the relationship. law was more of the quiet one but you never had a problem with expressing yourself—oncoming orgasms included. “c-couldn’t wait. g-gonna cum soon.”

your chest is heaving up and down as law responds, dominance slowly peaking into his still hoarse vocie. “alright. you gonna do everything i tell you to, baby?”

you slip your middle finger into your cunt, slowly teasing yourself in hopes of tricking your body into thinking it was law touching you, but your body knew better than that. no one could ever replace the surgeon of death’s hands. “yes daddy, just make me cum please,” you whisper, eyes fully closed now.

the sound of a zipper is being heard from the phone, and you could only assume that law was mirroring your actions in the confinements of his own room, pulling his fat cock out the tent of his pants. with a heavy breath, he mutters, “rub that clit for me. nice and slow, okay, baby? just let me take control.”

you nod your head and do as told, handling your little bud with the utmost care as law would have. a few seconds into doing so, you can’t help but ask, “you touching yourself?”

small grunts and moans from law’s end of the phone tells you all you need to know as he breathes heavily. “no other choice but to,” he grits out, referring to your irresistible personality that only got more attractive during your mutual masturbation sessions. only you could wake the surgeon three hours before his next surgery for some phone sex and an orgasm. “go ahead ‘n put a finger in for me just the way i do it.”

“as long as you rub your thumb over your fat tip,” you whisper, pumping your middle finger in and out of you. “can you do that for me baby? nice and slow.”

“mhm,” law hummed, nodding. “fuck,” he whined lowly. and just like you said, he rolled the D of his right thumb finger right over his reddened tip, sticky with pre-cum as he savored your voice over the phone. “take your tits out. squeeze them just the way you like it.” with your free hand, you opened your robe, revealing your already naked body. “add one more finger.”

you let out a gasp as you feel yourself stretch with the addition of another finger, but not in the same way it does with law’s. “wish i can show you,” you wheeze out. “show you how wet my pussy is for you.”

“i know, mama,” law coos as he talks you through it. “but i’m not there right now so you’re gonna have to work this one out on your own in the mean time. rub your clit clockwise. you know how i do it,”

you frown. “‘s not you, daddy,” you whine, “‘s not gonna work.”

“stop talking and focus,” law’s voice is stern as he practically bites down on his tongue to prevent a loud groan from escaping from his lips. “you wanna call me at 5 in the mornin’ knowin’ i got a surgery to prepare for soon? mhm hmm, shove those fingers up that cunt and be a good girl now.”

you immediately do as told and stuff yourself with another finger. you curve your thumb upward to rub at your clit, causing you to jolt with extra stimulation. “oh fuck,” you whined, kicking ur knees up to the ceiling. you begin to feel a large knot tie in your stomach as you sped up your pace. “keep talking, baby. please.”

“yeah? you like that, mama?” law’s voice is taunting and teasing as he himself begins to lose control of his breathing. “you like it when i talk to you mean like that? you little minx.”

“yes,” you dragged out in a whining tone. “need you so bad, papa, i miss you.” you hadn’t seen your man in four days—of course you were gonna be acting like this.

“fuck,” the young doctor’s straining himself to hear your words. with a few more pumps of his shaft to the sounds of your wet pussy and whiny cries, law finally comes undone, shooting thick ropes of his hot white cum all over his delicate fingers and scrubs.

the proof of his affection continues oozing out the slick red slit of his tip as he bites down on his lip, trying his hardest not to let his sounds travel outside his sleeping quarters. “you gonna cum baby?”

“law, ngh—i’m coming!—“ you’re gasping for air once you finally feel the knot in your stomach come undone once more. fingers soaking up your juices like prunes, your eyes flutter shut when you feel your heart finally slow down. you and your man are both are breathing heavily over the phone when law finally sits up from his position.

“i’m on my way home.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; “Cassie has a sexuality crisis, Kon has a gender one, and Circe makes everything worse”. tw: internalized homophobia, unintentional misgendering of a closeted character. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

This mission sucks in a lot of ways, the least of which is trying not to make eye contact with Tim during any of it, which the whole “being stuck in a small room with someone wearing a mask with opaque white lenses” thing makes way, way harder than it has to be, in Cassie’s opinion. 

“You do realize that blatantly projecting anxiety in every single conversation and constantly overcorrecting your behavior to try not to hurt Superboy’s feelings will upset him worse, right?” Tim says, which is another way this mission sucks. 

Stupid Bat-psych profiles.

“This seems like a conversation to have while we’re not breaking and entering for justice,” Cassie says to the door she’s watching for intruders, her arms folded and eyes locked on the doorframe. She wasn’t even weird this time, dammit. Like–not loudly weird, anyway. 

“Well, I tried to get you alone for it four times already and you dodged all four attempts with noticeably not-thin excuses, which means you’ve definitely been planning ahead to do said dodging, as opposed to actually just being busy,” Tim says. 

Dammit, Cassie thinks, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. 

“You are literally his best friend,” she says as evenly as she can, digging her fingers just a little tiny maybe-kinda-bruising bit into her arms.

“I’m your friend too,” Tim says. 

Stupid Bats. 

“When I went to Themyscira last month I met a girl that reminded me of Superboy without realizing that she reminded me of him until after I’d already screwed her,” she snaps flatly. “And yes, specifically all the things about her that reminded me of him were the things about her that I was attracted to, except because she had a huge rack and a big fat launched-ten-thousand-ships ass that her barely-tied peplos barely covered, well, this time those things actually turned me on. So also-yes, I am the worst and I am going to keep feeling like shit about this, thanks for asking.” 

“I didn’t even know I liked guys until I ran into you-know-who again,” Tim says. “Genuinely did not realize it was a thing, despite definitely having had a weird obsession with what, in retrospect, is a truly embarrassing amount of dudes for a straight guy to be weirdly obsessed with.” 

“Is this about Nightwing’s V-neck era?” Cassie assumes. 

“I mean I think I actually was crushing on him when I was, like, a literal toddler, which was much earlier than that, and also I was probably a little bit too interested in literally everything Robin 2.0 ever did in his career ever,” Tim says. “And, like, the time Red Hood beat my face in while wearing Robin’s colors was an interesting experience that I learned absolutely nothing about myself from.” 

“Um,” Cassie says. 

“Also I wasn’t trying to clone Spoiler in the basement,” Tim adds, half-tilting his head.  

Cassie . . . blinks. 

“What?” she says. Tim’s currently occupied with whatever he’s doing to the terminal, apparently, so just shrugs without looking up at her. 

“Ninety-nine times really does not seem like a platonic amount of times to try to bring someone back to life, I think,” he says. “Like, platonic cloning probably only covers about the first fifty attempts, max.” 

“Robin, I would believe your insane abandonment issues would try to clone literally anyone you were even passingly fond of ninety-nine times minimum,” Cassie says blankly, trying to . . . process that, kind of. Is that–like, that was not a subtle thing, what Tim just said. 

“I mean, I thought about it a few times,” Tim replies with another shrug. “But I only did it the once.” 

“. . . ‘the once’ times ninety-nine, you mean,” Cassie says, and Tim smiles wryly and finally spares her another glance. 

“That, yeah,” he says. “And I built an entire illegal cloning lab, memorized literally every single detail of the night I met the original Robin before the violent trauma happened, stole a codename and costume from the subsequent Robin not once but twice, and still genuinely just assumed I was straight ‘til a dude who I knew for less than six months in high school showed up out of nowhere and actually, you know, directly asked me about it.” 

“World’s second-greatest detective, huh,” Cassie says, then has to repress a grimace, because–well, that’s the joke Kon always makes, obviously. 

“I mean you don’t have to have your whole identity figured out from day one,” Tim says. “Superboy definitely understands that, if anyone does. All of us do. Impulse tried to make himself be Kid Flash and hated it, I assumed things about myself instead of actually thinking about myself, Secret was afraid enough of herself to end up becoming a supervillain over it, and Superboy’s been having an identity crisis since the day his cloning tube got cracked. Also, literally Arrowette’s entire life experience. Just . . . literally everything that’s ever happened to Arrowette. Ever.” 

“You didn’t mention Empress,” Cassie says a little lamely, trying not to grimace at herself, because–that’s all true, yeah. She knows it’s all true. Just . . . just it never felt . . . 

“I think Empress might’ve actually sprung into existence fully-formed just to embarrass the rest of us over the course of our respective self-discovery journeys, but all my supporting evidence is technically conjecture,” Tim says, which may or may not be a joke. Who knows, with Tim. “But the point still stands. Superboy’s not mad at you for not knowing something about yourself. None of us are, but especially not him.” 

“I knew,” Cassie says tightly, digging her fingers into her arms a little harder and staring at the wall. “Part of me, anyway. I just thought . . . he’s the perfect guy. I thought if the perfect guy liked me . . . I thought that’d–fix it. I thought that’d be . . . enough. Like–he was already the celebrity crush I lied to all the girls at school about having, just because I thought he was–you know, cool and everything, and so–and then when I actually got a chance to meet him, and then we all wound up teaming up . . . I just thought . . .” 

She’d thought a lot of stupid things, but the stupidest ones had probably been about Kon. 

Those were the things that’d actually gotten somebody else hurt, so . . . yeah. Definitely the stupidest things. 

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god. 

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with. 

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment. 

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.” 

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks. 

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic. 

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds. 

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead. 

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman. 

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side. 

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks. 

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that. 

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart. 

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala. 

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons. 

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me. 

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out. 

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed. 

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!” 

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks. 

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed. 

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers. 

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed. 

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him. 

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.” 

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying. 

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack. 

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head. 

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. 

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works. 

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us. 

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.” 

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further. 

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy. 

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas. 

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued. 

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical. 

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully. 

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers. 

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’” 

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly. 

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles. 

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells. 

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure. 

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help. 

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy. 

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.” 

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don’t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick. 

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead. 

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 14

Hey, guys just a couple chapters left. The story is done. I kind skip over the Mind Flayer bit and get back to the heart of the story, Eddie and Steve.

It will be some time before I start the last one. The lack of interest for this one made it hard to finish and as you're aware I don't really like having to rely on canon so much. And the last one will have to feature it in someway. But we'll see.

In this we get Eddie calling in the cavalry, Steve and Robin are captured and Steve plays hero.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

To say Eddie was worried would be an understatement. He had gone to the mall to pick Steve up from work and he wasn’t there.

But he knew about the Russian message and he knew that there was one thing Steve couldn’t stand and that’s was letting a literal child rush headlong into danger, not if he could help it.

So he started looking around. There were bound to be clues. And sure enough, the ladder had been moved and vent wasn’t properly screwed on anymore. But there was no way that any of the three Musketeers would fit through that space and he shuddered to think what or who they would have gotten to go down that tunnel.

He put his hand on his hip and scratched his chin. Then he snapped his fingers. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to call in the cavalry and by cavalry he meant Uncle Wayne.

Eddie went to a payphone and pulled out a quarter. He dialed home.

“‘Ello,” Wayne greeted gruffly. “Wayne speaking.”

“Uncle Wayne!” he cried. “I’m at the mall and I can’t find Steve. His car is still here, but I can’t find him. Which his car being here is weird as I was supposed to pick him up.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Wayne said, nice and low, “This is about those comics, ain’t it?”

Eddie straightened his spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be playing games with me, boy,” Wayne growled. “If your boy is trouble I need to know everything.”

“Meet me on the north side of the mall and I’ll tell you what I know,” Eddie whispered, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t want to say much over the phone.”

Again there was a beat then, “I’m on my way.”

~

The arguing was starting to mess with Steve’s head. In that he meant it was going to give him a migraine and then he was going to murder them. Particularly since he didn’t have his medication with him.

Because they were trapped in a fucking elevator underneath the mall and no way out or back up.

“Shut up!” he huffed. “I don’t care about Tina or Uncle Jack’s party, mmk?” He cocked his head forward for emphasis. “Look if we don’t find a way out of here, there wouldn’t be any parties or shit, because we’d all be dead. No one is looking for us, because they don’t know where we are.”

Erica popped her hip and placed her hand on it. “Maybe no one is looking for you. But my parents are absolutely looking for me.”

Steve covered his face with his hands. “Not what I meant! I mean no one is going to look for a secret Russian base under the mall because that’s fucking insane!”

Time went on and it was looking less and less likely they’d find a way out even with Dustin constantly trying to use his little communicator to reach out to anyone who could help when Robin heard someone coming.

They all ducked behind the crates when Steve got a bright idea. Taking Erica’s vial of green glowing liquid, he leapt into action.

As the elevator door closed, he stuck the vial between the floor and the door, effectively stopping its descent. He signaled to Dustin and Erica to get out first and then Robin. He rolled under the door just the vial’s strength gave out.

It shattered, its contents spewing all over the floor. Then to their horror it began to eat away at the floor and the door.

“Shit!” Dustin swore and Steve agreed. He barely missed rolling into the stuff and really didn’t want to know what it did to flesh if it did that to fucking metal.

They looked around but the only way to go was further into the base.

“Out of the frying pan,” Robin said with her hands on her hips, “and into the fire.”

Steve sighed and walked toward the long hallway, the other three following close behind.

~

Eddie paced in front of the movie theater. He was really worried about Steve now. He had asked a couple of the other people in the food court if they had seen anything, but the only thing they mentioned was that they closed early.

He wished not for the first time that Steve had thought to call him. But he knew why he didn’t. There were several reason that came to his head. That Dustin was super pushy about it and Steve wasn’t allowed the time to call. That Steve didn’t want him involved in whatever the hell this mess was. Which fair, but a head’s up would have been nice.

A beat up pickup pulled to a stop in front of him and he nearly sagged with relief. Uncle Wayne would know what to do.

Wayne was out of his truck and gathering Eddie up in his arms before his lip could even wobble.

Eddie told him everything Steve had said about weird shit in Hawkins and how everything was tied to that lab. He had been slowly prying it out of Steve over the last month whenever they were alone.

“We’ll find him,” Wayne said fiercely. “So he’s car’s here, which means it’s probably been left here overnight. Whatever happened, didn’t happen today. Which isn’t good. Who might he have gone to?”

Eddie frowned. “I’m pretty sure Dustin is already with him, and probably his co-worker, Robin Buckley.” He thought about the comic with the dire wolves. “Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield.”

“Ed,” Wayne said slowly, “those are children you just named.”

“Uh...” Eddie said, wrinkling his brow in concentration. “I know there are a couple of actual adults involved, but I don’t know who. I mean, I’d guess Mrs. Byers because her son is in the middle of all this shit, but...” he just shrugged.

Wayne rubbed his eyebrow in frustration. These were children, Steve included. He didn’t care if the boy just turned eighteen, Steve was only sixteen when all this shit started. None of them should have been anywhere near this shit.

“Hopper!” Eddie cried, snapping his fingers. “Steve said the police chef knew about the goings on here in Hawkins.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Wayne muttered darkly.

Secretly Eddie agreed. He was usually all about down with the man and conspiracies and all that shit, but the chief of police knowing that things are fucked up and not doing more to protect this town from whatever the hell this all was? Yeah, fuck that guy in particular.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Wayne said firmly. “I’m going to go the police station and hunt Hopper down, see if he knows about anything under the mall. You are going to stay here, keep an eye out for him at the mall. Since his car is still here, he’s got to be somewhere on the property.”

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips together and rocking back on his heels.

“Good,” Wayne groused. “I’ve got a pair of walkies in the cab of my truck, we’ll keep in contact that way, okay?”

Eddie heaved a sigh of relief. That made it easy to know where each other was at all times. He took the walkie talkie from Wayne and headed back into the mall.

He knew that Steve wouldn’t be in the food court, wherever he had gone, was away from the ice cream shop.

So he setup his vigil on one of the benches half way between the food court and the theater so that he could keep an eye on the two busiest locations.

He pulled out his little notebook to make it look like he was drawing or whatever to not arouse suspicion and settled in for a long wait.

~

Steve was fucking terrified. He wanted to run back to Forest Hills and crawl into Eddie’s bed and never come out of it ever again. They were only supposed to find out what the Russians were up to so that they could report it to their ‘friends’ at the DOE and be lauded as heroes instead of heaps of NDAs and admonishments to keep their mouths shut.

But now they were walking into something they didn’t even fucking know how to get out of. No one knew where they were. Or even where to start looking. Dustin had almost used up all the battery on his little communicator trying to get into contact with their friends and no one had answered.

And then he saw it.

It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten in who knows how long because he absolutely would have lost it.

“What the hell is that?” Erica said, reeling back in disgust.

“Dustin,” Steve implored. “Please tell me that isn’t what it looks like.”

Dustin grabbed his hand. “Uh...nope. It’s exactly what it looks like.”

They had reached a room where there were a lot of scientists running around, calling out in Russian and making notes on clipboards. In the center of the room was a red pulsating mass.

They ducked behind some boxes and Steve bit back a whimper.

“Is it open?” Steve asked Dustin.

Dustin peeked over the boxes and then ducked back down. “No. Not yet. But I bet that’s what the green goo is for.”

“Shit,” Steve hissed. “Of course they’re trying to open a Gate. What else would Russians want with Hawkins?”

Dustin looked devastated, because Steve was right. There was only one thing a foreign government would want in their fucked up little town. The Upside Down.

They managed to sneak around the scientists and found themselves in a control room. A mostly empty control with a single guard.

Steve plan was stupid. But it was all they had.

And it ended better than he thought it would if he was honest with himself. Robin and he had been captured while Erica and Dustin had gotten away.

They kept asking him over and over who they were and who they worked for. Steve did everything he could to keep the attention on him. Robin didn’t know anything. She didn’t know anything about Gates and monsters, and alternative dimensions. He kept repeating the truth over and over again.

“Steve Harrington, I work at Scoops Ahoy!” he chanted, his voice slurring after the fifth strike to the side of his face.

Again and again they didn’t believe him.

Then they took him away and the beating intensified. He was crying now and he didn’t care. He just wanted to have a barbecue with his boyfriend and his uncle. His parents had called him again to say that they wouldn’t be home. He hoped and feared that Eddie and Wayne were looking for him.

Then his world went black.

~

I'm not going to show Steve being tortured. This story isn't about that. It's not even really about season 3. It's about Steve and Eddie.

Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

[workwithmeman]

Pairing - Mountain x Phantom, 1.4k words, mature/explicit

Tags: body worship, phantummy, phantom being a little shit, mountain being desperate, mountain finishing in like 9 seconds oops, first time writing smut sorry, not beta read

Mountain was going to lose his fucking mind.

He knew Phantom had always been pretty - from the moment he had tumbled out of the summoning circle, he was all pouty lips, angled face, and doe eyes. A little gangly and underfed, sure, but nothing that a little love and home cooked meals couldn’t fix. And he was sweet - Lord Below was he sweet. An adorable nativity paired with a penchant to please that drove Mountain insane with a need to fawn, dote on, and love the little ghoul. 

But now that they had gotten back from tour, things had only gotten worse for Mountain. Without the constant exercise of tour and the increase in lovingly prepared rich comfort foods of winter, Phantom had started to grow a little soft around the edges. What once was all prominent bones and sharp edges became gently curvy and cherubic, with softer thighs and arms and an ass that Mountain would love to bury his face in. 

But the kicker, the absolute killing blow to Mountain’s sanity, was Phantom’s fucking tummy. As he had softened, a little bit of that fat had migrated to his chest and stomach, creating the most adorable little pooch that Mountain wanted to kiss, lick, suck - anything that Phantom would allow him to. 

Sweet Satan, he was screwed. 

—-

Mountain’s day started like normal, with him gently untangling himself from Phantom’s death grip on his body and shuffling to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. In the kitchen he found Dewdrop, holding a scalding cup of coffee and heating up the water for Mountain. He offered Mountain a sleepy smile.

“Hey big guy. Sleep alright?”

Mountain grunted in response, holding his cup out to Dew wordlessly.

“Understood,” Dew chuckled, pouring hot water in to Mountain’s teacup. “Phantom keep you up last night?”

“You could say that. Little bug is driving me crazy.” Mountain gently blew on his tea.

“Oh? What did he do now?” Dew leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee. “More video games? Another documentary?”

“Satan, I wish. It’s just fucking him, Dew, I’m losing my mind. I just want to hold him and never let go.”

Dew laughed again. “Wow Mount, never thought I’d see the day someone made an honest woman out of you. It’s a good look.”

“Who’s making an honest woman out of Mountain?” Phantom’s sleepy voice called from down the hall. “I want to help.”

As Phantom appeared in the doorway, Mountain’s mouth went completely dry. In his bat boxer briefs and bat wing hoodie, Phantom looked good enough to eat. Mountain wanted to mark him, claim him, fuck him, break him, and then put him back together again. He wanted to grab him and steal him back to their room and spend hours eating the poor boy out until he cried. Fuck. Mountain needed to get his shit together. 

“Oh, um, hi bug. H-how did you sleep?” Mountain stammered. Phantom chuckled and walked over to him, tucking himself against Mountain’s chest and kicking up a gentle purr. 

“Like a rock. Your cuddles and your tea always make me go out like a light.” Phantom nuzzled against Mountain’s neck before pulling away to the cabinet where the tea was kept. 

As he stood on his tiptoes to reach his favorite box of tea, his hoodie rode up a little, revealing a sliver of dark purple belly, just sticking out a bit over his boxers. Mountain looked up from his sip of tea, only to spit it out all over Dew, coughing heavily.

“What the fuck, Mount, are you trying to infect me with your earth ghoul cooties? Fuck off with that shit,” Dew yelped. He looked down at himself, now covered with a healthy spray of earl grey. “Ah, shit. Now I have to change my fucking shirt.”

Dew walked out of the kitchen past a sheepish Mountain and a bewildered Phantom, yanking off his shirt as he went. 

“You alright there, Mounty? Everything OK?” Phantoms big purple eyes stared up at him, taking his breath away.

Mountain flushed up to his horns. “U-uh yeah, bug. Just choked a little bit. Sorry if I scared you.” Phantom rolled his eyes.

“Just glad you’re not dying, you big dummy. I love you too much to watch you choke to death on leaf water.”

Mountain smiled, tugging Phantom back into his chest. “I love you too, bug. I love you too.”

——

As their day progressed, Mountain slowly became more sure that Phantom was intentionally trying to drive him insane. The way he’d slowly bend over a laundry basket in front of Mountain and turn around and smile teasingly, the way he’d lift his sweater up over his head and make sure his t-shirt was stuck to it, the way he’d brush up against Mountain when they were working side by side. Mountain was ready to grab the little quint by the scruff of his neck and drag him back to their room to not be seen for at least a few days.

It all came to a head at movie night. The ghouls were all gathered in the common room watching some movie Dew and Aether liked, something with bombs and explosions and good special effects. Something Mountain could ignore for something sweeter. Namely, his lapful of quintessence ghoul.

Phantom was lounging against the earth ghoul’s torso, sitting between his legs. Every few minutes he’d shift ever so slightly, pressing back directly into Mountain’s dick. He stretched backwards, bringing his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and allowing his shirt to ride up as he nuzzled into Mountain’s neck.

Come on Mounty, hold me. I’m so cold. 

Mountain could hear Phantom’s voice echoing around his brain.

I know you’ve been staring. Come on, wrap those big arms around me. I can feel you, I can feel you’re hard. I know you want me, Mounty.

Mountain growled slightly into Phantom’s neck.

Don’t start something you can’t finish, little bug. I hope you know what you’re doing.

Phantom only chirped and ground harder back into the earth ghoul. He brought his mouth right up to Mountain’s ear.

“Please, Mounty. Take me back to our room, come on.”

Mountain growled, picking Phantom up and throwing him over his shoulder as Phantom squealed happily. As they walked out of the common room, a there were a few chuckles and groans from various members of the pack, but they mostly ignored the scene happening in front of them. 

Once they reached their shared room, Mountain tossed Phantom into the nest, yanking his shirt over his head. 

“You fucking tease. Whatever am I to do with you?” He crawled forwards, caging Phantom in on all sides. “Hope you don’t like this shirt too much, bug. You’re not getting it back.” 

In one swift motion, Mountain slashed the center of Phantom’s shirt open, revealing his delicate, plush purple skin. Mountain immediately latched onto Phantom’s neck, kissing, sucking and licking his way down the quint’s body until he reached his tummy. 

“Fucking harassing me all day, showing this cute little tummy off when you know I can’t handle it. Fucking drives me insane, bug, madness how gorgeous you are. Could stare for hours and never have enough.”

Phantom whined, squirming against the sheets. “Then why don’t yo-hah-do something more than just stare? Please Mounty, I need it. Touch me, please.”

“Oh princess, you’ve had more than enough touches for today. You always get what you want, hmm? It’s time for me to get something back.”

Mountain straddled Phantom’s calf, slowly starting to grind as he shoved his face back into his soft purple tummy.

“Fuck, bug, you’re perfect. Love how soft you are, how soft you’ve gotten. Love that you’re so strong now, so pretty. Such a pretty ghoul.” Mountain gasped, staring to hump Phantom’s leg more aggressively. He brought a hand down to Phantom’s straining cock, slowly beginning to jerk it. 

“You drive me crazy, baby, your cute little ass and your fucking thighs, love, wanna cover em with my marks. Wanna make sure everyone knows you’re mine. Wanna - ah! Wanna mate you, mark you, show everyone how much I fucking love you, need you, want you, ah-!”

Mountain finishes with a cry, spilling all over Phantom’s leg. Phantom follows shortly after, enamored with the scene of the earth ghoul falling apart. They lay together, panting, for a minute until Mountain crawls up Phantom’s body to kiss him. A comfortable silence falls over the pair.

“H-hey Mounty? Did you mean what you said? Do you want to be my mate?” Phantom asked nervously, tilting his chin up to look in to the earth ghouls eyes.

“With my whole heart, body, and soul, bug. If you want, whenever you want, wherever you want, I’m yours.”

[all-pacas]

a list of all the times foreman and chase actively shaded one another in s1-3, because i think it's very funny,

histories:

PATIENT: [Foreman] doesn't like me. I can tell. CHASE: That's okay. He doesn't like me, either.

sports medicine:

CHASE: House says you were lying. I believe him. FOREMAN: …What’s that? You got a little wet smudge at the end of your nose!

control:

CAMERON [to Chase]: He’s not gonna fire you. FOREMAN: I’d fire you. Bye bye. CHASE: If I screw up, the patient dies… I’ll never get another job. FOREMAN: So go stick your head between your legs and lick your wounds in Gstaad.

mob rules:

CAMERON: Chase has a big mouth. FOREMAN: Yeah. He's probably the one who ratted to Vogler. [of note: Chase did obviously rat to Vogler, but Cameron spends these same episodes defending him and sure he isn't the rat; Foreman immediately jumps to "fire Chase"]

heavy:

PATIENT: I’m thirsty. CAMERON: Just a little bit longer [with this procedure], and you’ll be done. FOREMAN: Like Dr. Chase.

[later, House asks who Foreman would fire:]

FOREMAN: Chase. HOUSE: What — because he screwed up an angio a month ago? FOREMAN: Anyone can make a mistake. HOUSE: Right, it’s the money. You resent it, but you’re going to tell me he doesn’t need the job. FOREMAN: He doesn’t appreciate the job. HOUSE: He was ready to go three rounds with Cameron for it. FOREMAN: He wants the job. He just doesn’t appreciate it. There’s nothing wrong with just wanting to hang out, but this is not the place to do it.

babies and bathwater:

FOREMAN: [under his breath] Here, pussy, pussy, pussy. CHASE: I didn’t do anything. FOREMAN: Exactly my point. CHASE: You wanted me to yell at him? What the hell would that have achieved? What, is he going to jump into his time machine and fix everything? FOREMAN: When a dog dumps on the floor, do you pat its head and call it a genius? No, you smack it in the nose with a newspaper! CHASE: Dogs can learn things, House can’t. FOREMAN: Coward. CHASE: Child.

acceptance:

FOREMAN: If someone asks you to describe me to them, what’s the first thing you’d tell them? CHASE: Insecure.

tb or not tb:

CAMERON: I wrote your people a check last month. PATIENT: Oh, well… write us another one. FOREMAN: Talk to Chase, he’s rich. CHASE: My dad, not me. [i think offering chase's money to a stranger counts as shade]

the mistake:

STACY: Why did Chase screw up? FOREMAN: Because he doesn't give a crap about patients. STACY: He always gets positive patient reviews. FOREMAN: Yeah. He smiles all 84 of his teeth, tells them his tonsil story. STACY: It's a nice story. FOREMAN: He still has his tonsils! As soon as he's out of the room, which is as soon as he can be out of the room, he starts in on the trash talk. Thinks not giving a crap makes him like House. Like it’s something to aspire to. Am I going to have to testify? STACY: I… won't be encouraging them to call you.

failure to communicate:

CHASE: Even if he fell, drug use is far more likely. I’m ordering a tox screen. FOREMAN: Chase, we're not done with the differential. CHASE: You're not my boss. FOREMAN: I'm House's boss, House is your boss. The math is pretty simple. CHASE: Are you signing my paychecks? Are you hiring or firing? FOREMAN: This is not about that. CHASE: The only thing you've been asked to do is supervise House in case he does something insane.

distractions:

FOREMAN: Plug it in. CHASE: You plug it in. FOREMAN: Fine, give me the cord. [under his breath:] Wuss.

who's your daddy?

[during a procedure] HOUSE: Chase, high right atrium, please. CHASE: Her heart’s fragile after that last attack. The chances of tachycardia – HOUSE: You have my permission to blame Foreman at any negligence trial. [chase does as he's told]

cane and able:

CHASE: How could I screw up a simple bleeding time test? FOREMAN: Maybe you were abducted; lost time. [later:] HOUSE: So you’re saying Chase did screw up. CHASE: Or Foreman screwed up. FOREMAN: Big hand points to minutes. Maybe you got them mixed up? [later:] CHASE: We’ve had three results that haven’t been consistent. One of them must be wrong. FOREMAN: Or two of them.

fools for love:

[house is trying to bet foreman on wilson's new girlfriend. foreman hasn't accepted the bet:]

HOUSE: We could spend all day arguing whether we bet or not. Give me the hundred bucks. CHASE: Come on Foreman, pay up. He won! Or we could just never finished the DDX.

[later:]

HOUSE: Aha! Brochure to a jazz festival in the Poconos this weekend. CHASE: Wilson likes jazz. Foreman, pay the man.

[later:] CHASE: If [the patients] can live here without killing each other, they must really be in love. It’s tiny. FOREMAN: Then how come it’s taking you so long to search it? CHASE: Box of condoms in his jacket. FOREMAN: I know you’re poor now, but buy your own.

[later:]

CHASE: Hey, Foreman, can you wear the beeper for a couple hours this weekend? [off his look:] What? FOREMAN: We just destroyed two peoples’ lives. CHASE: I’m not allowed to run errands any more? FOREMAN: I’d like to see some sign that it affects you, or that you recognize that it affects other people. CHASE: So are you going to wear the beeper or not?

finding judas:

CHASE: I wasn't kissing his ass. FOREMAN: It just looked that way from our angle. You on your knees, House bending over. CHASE: He predicted the pancreatitis. CAMERON: It's his dad's fault. CHASE: My dad was an ass. CAMERON: But you did everything he wanted you to and, in return, you got everything you wanted. CHASE: Yeah! It's that simple. CAMERON: His strategy worked. Dad got him a cushy job, paid for his cushy life. CHASE: Cut me out of his cushy will. [cameron looks surprised/apologetic here; foreman continues:] FOREMAN: I told you, just his nature. Poor guy's hardwired to kiss ass.

[later:]

CHASE: Tritter finally froze my accounts. FOREMAN: Really? CHASE: You surprised? Why wouldn't he? FOREMAN: I figured if he was singling you out, you must have done something different. CHASE: What? Like talking? FOREMAN: Yeah. And now that he's frozen your accounts, you probably will. You need the cash, right? CHASE: He doesn't freeze my accounts, I'm guilty. He does freeze my accounts, I'm guilty. [foreman shrugs]

top secret:

FOREMAN: House would do Wilson before you'd do Chase. CAMERON: No, you would do House and Wilson before I do Chase. Now can we get back to work? CHASE: She did me once! FOREMAN: [laughing] She was stoned!

act your age:

CHASE: For the record, Cameron's the one who broke it off. FOREMAN: Not interested. No masses in the hypothalamus. CHASE: I wanted more. She didn't share my feelings. FOREMAN: I feel like I'm in a similar position.

resignation:

CHASE: So, why are you leaving? Or is it just some sort of power play? FOREMAN: You can have my parking space. My locker. CHASE: Is it about House? FOREMAN: Let me get all sensitive and confide in you. CHASE: Why wouldn't you want to tell me? FOREMAN: I don't like you. Never have, never will. You want me to share some more?

the jerk:

FOREMAN: I'll do it. But I've got a job interview after work. Anything comes up later, you guys handle it. CAMERON: Need a peer recommendation? FOREMAN: Thanks. [he looks at chase, who sort of shrugs] CHASE: Cameron's should suffice.

[later:]

CAMERON: Foreman's interview in New York got screwed up. CHASE: I heard. CAMERON: Foreman thought it was House, House thought it was Cuddy. Cuddy thought it was Wilson, Wilson thought it was me. CHASE: And you think it was me? [chuckles] God… you think I… sabotaged Foreman? I don't even want him here. CAMERON: I know. CHASE: Then why would I do…? CAMERON: I think you sabotaged Foreman just to sabotage Foreman.