#Laughing so hard I was in tears. My dog usually tries to kill anything that moves but she was so confused she just stared at it

[prolibytherium]

I think tumblr's video upload system is just broken for me right now which is a shame because I have 2 total minutes of footage of this fucking squirrel having chewed its way into my apartment and immediately regretting its decisions

[babyjakes]

tw: traumatic childhood, fucked up family (npd!dad, golden child!brother, scapegoat!me), pet loss, suicidal thoughts, dissociation, just overall this is really heavy but i need to put it somewhere

past 30-ish hours or so for me have been:

drive home to have dinner with family (last minute, dad "forgot" to invite me. nothing's wrong except dad's harassing a food service worker over the phone and mom still likes pro-cop shows and brother is still a little selfish (you know, typical Man Who Lacks Empathy shit). and he's leaving tomorrow and i won't see him for months, and i'll miss him even though he's being momentarily difficult.

play my old piano. momentarily wish i still lived at home, until i remember why i can't ever again.

feel guilty for talking about my life for a few seconds, when the rest of the dinner conversation has been about my brother (per usual.) redirect the focus back to him out of crippling guilt.

sit with him after dinner. don't know whether to laugh or cry when he sends me a trauma instagram reel (themes of "there's something wrong with me", "no one knows how i really feel", hating life, hating growing older.) realize for the first time maybe he thinks and feels these things too, despite him being my opposite in the family system (he's the favorite child, i'm the scapegoat.) empathy grows for him. realization grows (as it has been for months) that in some ways he's my best friend, and the only other person who knows what it was like to be raised in that house. send him a girl/childhood slideshow on tiktok in return. watch as he tries to cover his recognition, his relating to it, his hurt that is more like mine than i ever knew. half-jokingly but mostly genuinely beg him to get therapy.

miss my dog. wonder if it's normal for me to still grieve her like this, a year and a half later.

advocate for my needs in a tiny, insignificant way. immediately feel sick with guilt about it, which lasts for the rest of the night. resist the urge to take it back and let the fawn response do its thing.

leave early. resist the urge to tell each of them that i love them a few extra times, because i love them still. i love them so much it hurts. feel silly walking out the door with "i love you's" still caught in my mouth. tell myself i'm too sentimental and make everything weird.

cry the whole drive home to sun bleached flies and letter to an old poet. think about swerving off the freeway, jokingly at first until it's not anymore. scare myself with how hard i'm crying, how blurry my eyes are from my tears, the things i'm thinking about doing to myself. consider pulling over onto the shoulder. decide not to, telling myself i'd look stupid and pathetic.

suck it up. get it together. remind myself what and who i live for. tell myself out loud that it gets better, even though my words come out more like a plead to god.

drive past the fire station as i near home. momentarily think about turning into the parking lot and telling the firefighters outside taking their break that i'm thinking about killing myself. realize how stupid i'd look. skip the turn and make it home instead.

walk through the door and cat is waiting for me like she always is. sit on the floor in my shoes and dissociate. come back to the feeling of my cat purring against me, even though i can't hear anything.

remove my makeup, wash my face. feel as my body adjusts to being in a safe space in real time. crawl into bed.

sleep through the night, and most of the next day.

(btw please don't worry about me, safety wise i'm okay now; i have crisis management in place and therapy on wednesday lol)

[books-and-catears]

Hey, Hey, Hey! It’s been a minute but I didn’t wanna spam ya with requests while you have life stuff to deal with ☺️

This is similar to my Savage!MC ask but the brothers reacting to MC snapping at them and defending Mammon before calling the brothers out whenever they go too hard on him. Let’s be real, Mammon just acts on his sin and gets punished but when Lucifer’s a prick and threatens MC; crickets.

When Beel eats everything and damn near causes everyone to starve as well as threw a tantrum and nearly injured MC over custard;everyone turns a blind eye.

Levi guilt trips and whine over the smallest things but says the worst insults to Mammon and tried to kill MC over TSL.

Asmo acts like he’s above everyone and prefers to tend to his looks than help others (such as during the castle tour) but he gets no scolding.

Belphie routinely harasses Luci with Satan (who loses his temper) AND they all either threatened/killed MC but should Mammon do anything, he’s the worst. Even though Mammon:

- Never threatened MC

- Does shit for his brothers when asked (he may joke of needing a grimm but he’s an Avatar of greed and still gets the job done)

- Is very loyal to them

- And is a good brother to take falls for them. He knows how to sacrifice for them and the slightest inconvenience gets him thrown under the bus

These guys ain’t shit and I wouldn’t wanna be around them until they learn how to treat him better and equally work on their flaws rather than rip on Mammon, who’s a whole ass victim despite being the second strongest brother who takes it because he genuinely loves his brothers yet gets shit on by them so much.

Ooh this savage MC has nothing but heart eyes for Mammon and it's adorable. Right this one is going to be angsty and it's going to sting. I'm doing this in a short story instead of a headcannon cause it just seems right that way. Hope that's okay?

It was just another one of those days Mammon tried to steal his brothers stuff and sell it again. Another day of being upside down and being laughed at. Normally he wouldn't care - it was the usual routine. But something seemed off this time.

"Mammon.. are you okay?" You approach him. He was rubbing his shoulders and arms as if to comfort the pain. He looked more tired and pained than usual.

"Ah I'm alright MC. Just the same old ya know?" He laughed. It sounded hollow yet it pierced your heart.

Enough. Enough of this. You weren't going to stand by and watch this happen again.

"You should rest." You place an arm on his shoulder and take him to his room. Making sure he's asleep, you leave. You have some problematic demons to deal with it.

"Ah MC? What brings you here? You seem rather disturbed." He asks as you storm into his study, fuming with anger.

"You tell me, you sadistic peacock." You had lost all sense of self-preservation and normalcy. Just echoing the rage in your brain.

"Excuse me?" Lucifer said, half-amused, half-shocked.

"Either you stop treating Mammon this way or I will make your life hell." You grit your teeth.

"I already have my brothers doing that what more will you do MC? Besides Mammon had it coming. He went stealing Levi's and Asmo's things again." Lucifer said nonchalantly.

"What do expect from the Avatar of Greed? He's just acting how he's cursed to. Just like the rest of you, nicompoops. Stop listening through the door and come inside." You said loudly.

The other brothers were still in the corridor nearby overhearing the whole thing. You could hear them gasp loudly at your boldness and scutter inside one by one.

"Now let me elaborate, so you rotten cucumbers understand me clearly." You cleared your throat.

Leviathan

"This little snake in tried to kill me because I may have known a little bit more about his favourite anime than him. Where's his punishment?" You point at Levi.

"MC I'm sorry...I couldn't help it was too new to me." Levi started. "But Mammon keeps stealing my things how is that fair-"

"And you keep throwing us into new kinds of disasters with your game hoarding problem."

"If you're still mad about the TSL incident I swear I take it all back-"

"Shut up snake, we know the reason. You're the Avatar of Envy. Getting jealous is your whole point. So you didn't get punished. Moving on..." Your finger now points to Satan. "This wild cat."

Satan

"He also threatened me cause I didn't want to make a pact with him. And when he actually flies off his handle, he wrecks his room and half the house down."

Satan seemed like he wanted to say something but he scowled and looked away.

"However I won't be too hard on him, cause he tries to keep his thing in check. And the whole reason he even has Wrath is because of Lucifer. So I get your hate towards Lucifer, but Mammon doesn't deserve any of it."

"MC you know I can't tolerate stupidity-" He grumbled.

"Oh must be hard looking in the mirror then, with all your failed pranks. And speaking of mirrors, this over- perfumed mannequin." You turn to Asmo.

Asmodeus

"How have I possibly hurt anyone MC? You know I stand for Love too right?" Asmo said, batting his pretty little eyes.

"For someone who stands for LOVE, if you can even call it that," You make a disgusted face, "You surely love making a mockery out of your elder brother and revel in his misery, you over- perfumed potato."

"But I never cause problems do I? Why must I be punished just for standing by?"

"Your high and mighty sense of worth is an illusion you live in. You dress up pretty and act social to validate yourself, trying to conceal the ugliness within. Truly you are nothing but Lust. Also you're the reason we almost got eaten by a giant snake." You shake your head. "Now speaking of eating..."

Beelzebub

"This giant food vaccum." You point to Beel. "He tried to eat me over a custard. Like excuse me? There's still plenty of food outside? And let's not forget that week we all had to eat cup ramen for a week cause he finished the whole pantry."

Beel softly muttered and apology and looked down.

"He even ate the walls and pillars once! Surely those renovations cost way more than however much Mammon steals? Where's his punishment?!"

"MC enough. He's sorry already." Beel's twin spoke up. You glared at him and smiled. "Don't worry I saved the best for last."

Belphegor

"This lazy murderous cow." You walk up to him slowly. "Not only does everyone have to your chores - you love causing chaos."

Belphie laughed, "That I do. But that's only with Lucifer. What else did I do?"

"Oh you want me to go there? I surely will." You say with a sting in your eye. "In your plan to avenge your sister, you killed what was left of her in the first timeline. And your brothers just stood by and watched. Where's your penance, you murder hornet?"

Belphie's eyes grew wide. Everyone looked shocked and uncomfortable. You never brought this up before now.

"But why bother asking you about it. I should be asking the ultimate punisher of this family." You turn to Lucifer.

Lucifer

"Ah! If it isn't Diavolo's pet dog! How is your master today? Does he treat you the way you treat Mammon? Is that why you come here to take your revenge on your little brother instead? Tell me Lucifer does Diavolo punish you then?"

"MC, I understand you maybe upset but you are crossing a line here." Lucifer stood up with a gutteral growl.

"Sit doggie. I didn't ask for you yet." You commanded. Lucifer sat back down as with great force. He stared at you flummoxed.

"Did you forget about the pacts already, you pompous goat? You have threatened and tried to kill me more than anyone else in this family so congratulations! I will use my pacts way more generously now." You mock bowed in gratitude.

"You might win in a fight against him but let me tell you this..." You stared back at the others.

"Mammon is the second strongest in this family. If he wanted to - if he REALLY wanted to, all of you would be turned to dust. He is stronger than all of you - but he hides it. He supresses his powers and his anger because he loves you too much. How could he ever hurt his little brothers?" You felt tears in your eyes at this point.

"AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HIM? He's only acting on his sin! Just like the rest of you! Why must he be singled out and mocked at? I won't allow it. Never again."

"If you hurt Mammon again, I swear you will have to face me. And before you think you have a chance against me, do remember the pacts you all happily made with me I will not hesitate to use them against you dysfunctional lot-"

"MC... Stop." You felt Mammon hug you from behind.

"Mammon? I thought you were asleep." You say looking back at him. His tears were misty but his smile more full.

"And I thought I was supposed to protect ya, human! And you're out here protecting me..." Mammon trailed off and held you closer.

"We can protect each other."

[aboutapeachparty]

Stray Kids | bringing your child to the doctor for the first time

reaction | hyung line

genre ➸ romance, fluff, husband & dad! au

disclaimer ➸ This is a work of fiction. I don't own any famous character(s) - like idols - and my writings are in no way meant to show these people’s real nature and/or offend them in any way.

chan.

You have just been out of town because you and your friends agreed to go on a little girl trip. You have been very busy with motherhood since you and Chan had your baby girl. Your friends were last for a long time. But for your birthday they gave you a weekend at a spa and you were really looking forward to it. But it was also the first weekend for Chan alone with your daughter. And that night the little girl got a fever. High fever. At first, Chan thought that she couldn't sleep because you weren't there. After all, she was most used to you. But her face grew redder and redder and her body glowed. "Do you have a fever?" Chan stood in front of her bed in a panic and talked more to himself because the little girl just cried more and more. "Okay, where was the temperature monitor?" He would love to call you, but he didn't want to ruin your weekend. When he looked in the corner, he saw a box on the shelf that was labeled "Medicines". Immediately he ran over there and rummaged around and found something. "Thank God your mother is a neat freak," he said with a grin and went to his daughter with the temperature monitor. And as he had feared, she had a fever. The display read 39.5 degrees Celsius, but Chan couldn't do anything with it. Was it high or just increased? When does a baby have a fever? Slowly he panicked and didn't quite know what to do anymore. His daughter kept screaming loudly and he couldn't just leave her here. "Okay, come to Daddy," he said then gently and put his girl over his shoulder. But she didn't calm down. He picked up his phone and looked for the symptoms and found that this temperature is relatively high for a 6-month-old child and immediately decides to take her to the hospital. He dressed his daughter even when she was hot because he was still afraid that she would catch a cold. But that makes her scream even louder. She was hot from the fever and the jacket didn't make it any better. He took it off again and tried to put her in the child car seat.

"Hold on. We're going to the hospital in a moment." He tried to calm her down, but the little girl was too sick to notice her daddy. Chan drove off and he was glad that the nearest pediatric hospital was close by. After parking, he grabbed his daughter, held her tight to his chest, and ran. "I need a pediatrician, right now!" Chan was out of breath when he arrived at the reception and the receptionist looked at him in surprise but smiled gently when she saw his daughter. She was quiet now because she was so exhausted. She tried to cry now and then and to cling to her father, but she was already very weak. After all, she hadn't slept in hours and the fever was exhausting her. "Oh dear, is she sick?" Asked the woman and smiled. "She has a high fever. I read on the Internet that it is dangerous and I don't know ... my wife is not there and ... What do you do when a baby has a fever?" Chan was in a panic and hoped to be able to help his daughter soon. The woman nodded gently and smiled. "Everything is fine. I'll call a pediatrician right away." Chan thanked her and stood aside. Again and again, he stroked his daughter's back gently and hummed something to her. The girl became calmer, but she kept whimpering. Chan saw how exhausted she was, but she still fought so hard. "Christopher Bang?" He heard a voice and immediately turned around. A doctor had come and Chan immediately approached him. "My daughter, she has a high fever," he said immediately and the doctor immediately looked at his girl. But he could see right away that it wasn't anything serious. "At first, come in," he said with a soft smile and led the two of them into the practice. The pediatrician examined the child and he quickly came to his conclusion. "Fever is relatively normal for children. It can happen sometimes. It doesn't seem serious. She now needs special care and attention, bed rest and let the child drink about every half hour." The doctor smiled and Chan took his daughter back onto his lap. "Not more?" He was quite surprised. "It's all good. But please don't wrap your daughter so tightly in warm clothes." The doctor pointed to the jacket that Chan also had in his hand. "Oh, I didn't know ..." Chan was completely mistaken, that was all quite a lot. "The first child?" Asked the pediatrician and Chan nodded. "You learn with time. Everything is fine, but if the fever persists, just come back tomorrow." "Thank you, doctor," said Chan and let out a sigh of relief. Then he said goodbye and went out of the room. "Mummy will be proud of us when she comes home that we did it so well," said Chan and kissed his daughter on the hot forehead, who slowly closed her eyes.

minho.

"Y/N." Minho came into the bedroom with your daughter in his arms and looked at you seriously. "Mhmm?" You actually wanted your peace and quiet because your day was incredibly stressful. All-day you had been waiting to watch your favorite series and were glad that Minho put your daughter to bed. "We have to take her to the hospital. Her rash is getting bigger and bigger." "It's not serious," you say and look at Minho, shaking your head. Then you look back to the television and turn up the volume. "Can't you stand behind us? Our daughter is sick!" Minho looked at you in disbelief and didn't believe how indifferent you could be. But the truth was, your girl had rashes many times, and you've told Minho a hundred times not to worry. "Good, then take her to the hospital," you say with a shrug and make yourself comfortable in bed again. "Unbelievable," said Minho with a sigh and walked out of the bedroom. He was always very overprotective with his daughter. So he drove off and rushed to the hospital. When Minho arrived at the hospital, he was immediately sent to the nearest pediatrician. Probably more because he caused stress to the whole workforce. But after a short examination, the pediatrician was able to give him a diagnosis. "She has no fever and the rash seems to have subsided again. I'll prescribe an ointment for her and it should be fine again." The doctor started to write something on a pad, but Minho was not satisfied with it. "Just a rash? Look at it? Look how red it is." Minho pointed to the red spots on his daughter. "Yes, that happens a lot with toddlers." The doctor smiled but Minho immediately dressed his daughter and pulled her to him. "Have you even studied? Are you a doctor at all?" Minho was a little too worried about his daughter. That was exactly why you didn't come with them. "Excuse me?" The pediatrician was really perplexed by the cheeky answer. But Minho already had his daughter in his arms and ran out of the room. He had to find another solution, but it was quite late now. Then it occurred to him that his cousin, whom he didn't like, was also a doctor. Actually, he avoided him, because his mother always wanted him to send his daughter to him and he thought that he was annoying. But now his daughter's health was more important. After a long phone call, Minho persuaded his cousin that he could come over with his daughter. However, he reluctantly agreed. "I know I called you late at night and threatened to kill your dog, but thanks for coming," Minho said and walked into the apartment. "It's not like a doctor needs sleep," said Minoh's cousin annoyed, and sat down on the sofa. "She has a rash and the idiot in the hospital said it is nothing." Minho gently removed his daughter's shirt to show his cousin the rash. He examined everything, took her temperature, and listened to her breathing. But he had to say the same as the doctor said in the hospital. "She has a harmless rash. Many children of that age have that." The cousin could no more determine. "I knew you were an idiot," said Minho, taking his daughter back. His cousin sighed but was too tired to say anything. Minho immediately ran out of the apartment and got back in the car with his daughter. Even though he was angry that no one was taking his baby's symptoms seriously, he decided to go home. "How was it?" You ask when they were back in your bedroom. "The doctor was an idiot, then I went to my idiot cousin, but he's an idiot too," Minho said defiantly, looking at your daughter. "You were with your cousin?" You ask him with a laugh. "Biggest mistake of my life. He will accuse me of that until his death." Minho rolled his eyes and leaned back into the bed. After all, he was pretty tired after the whole tour. "You're a good dad," you say with a smile and give him a kiss. Then you grab a cream from your drawer and start applying it on your daughter's rash. "Look, that helps her," you say and look at your daughter, who is now fast asleep. But when you don't hear any more reaction, you look over at Minho and see that he was asleep too.

changbin.

"Daddyyyyyyyy." Changbin heard his son crying from his room. It was still early in the morning and actually, he was usually still sleeping at that time. "What's wrong?" He asked when he saw him come into the kitchen. The little boy had glassy eyes. "Ouch." The boy pointed in his mouth and Changbin crouched down to take a closer look. "Oh, it's all red." He felt his son's neck and found that it was completely swollen. "It hurts so much, Daddy," said the boy and started to sob. He wiped away his tears with the palm of his hand and tried to be brave. "Well, let's call Mummy then." To be honest, Changbin didn't know what to do. So he immediately picked up his phone to call you. But you've already been to work and in an important meeting. So you couldn't answer immediately. In the meantime, your son sat on the floor and cried silently. He held his small hands to his neck and he looked at the floor. Changbin looked at him and took a deep breath. "Good. She's got the pediatrician's number somewhere here." Changbin went through the apartment and searched everything. "Daddyyyyy," the little boy continued whimpering. Changbin was starting to get stressed and he knew he had to react quickly. "Yes, yes. Daddy is already looking for a solution." He looks desperately through the apartment, but then there was a glimmer of hope. There was a note on the refrigerator that said "Emergency". Immediately he went up to it and could already see the number from the pediatrician. "Yes, this is it," he said happily and immediately typed the number. "Daddyyyyyy," the boy continued to whimper, and Changbin sat down with him and let his head rest on his lap. He continued to cry softly and Changbin gently stroked his back. "Practice Doctor Yen." A female voice answered. "Hello, my son is in pain and has a red throat. Do you still have an appointment?" Changbin found himself using his rapper voice and talking way too fast. "Yes, of course, you can come over right now," said the woman kindly and Changbin breathed a sigh of relief. After he hung up, he looked at his son. "We'll get you dressed now and then we'll go to the doctor," Changbin said quietly, but the little boy didn't want that. "No doctor," he said and cried even more. "But you are in pain and the doctor will help you," he tried to explain. "But the doctor stings," said the little boy, sobbing again. "No, he doesn't sting. You won't get a vaccination. He just looks into your mouth," Changbin told his son and gave him an encouraging smile. The boy nodded and so the two were ready to go to the doctor. Changbin became more and more nervous along the way. He wrote you a message so you would know and hoped that he would manage it all. At the doctor's, the little boy was almost braver than his father. While Changbin almost fell off his chair because of his nervousness, his son was very calm when the doctor examined him. "His tonsils are swollen and sore. I'll prescribe something and everything should be fine." The pediatrician smiled and stroked the child's head. The little boy smiled, and Changbin was so proud of him that he was so brave. Almost braver than himself. "And because you were so good, there is a reward," said the doctor and took something out. "LOLLIPOP!" The boy yelled excitedly, his eyes sparkling when he saw the candy. "It's for you." The pediatrician handed him the lollipop and the little boy grinned. As if his pain was completely forgotten and Changbin was just glad that everything went well.

masterlist.

[softsergeantbarns]

I dare you!

pairing: Bucky x avenger!reader

summary: you and Bucky have this weird thing going on where you dare each other to do some stupid shit.

warnings: none. pure fluff and really funny.

wordcount: 1500

its not proof read, I'm sorry. Later on you'll get why I put in the link to that video, promise! Hope you like it. And as always, my requests are open. So just hit me up with any idea you've got!

Whenever you or Bucky were bored you’d play a game. I dare you. Most of the time it was just a stupid dare that one of you gave the other one. The rules were easy. You either complete the dare or you’ll get punished. And most of the time, the punishment was even worse than the dare.

The last dare you gave Bucky was to steal Sams wings and use them to fly around the compound, screaming that he loves Steve.

„Hey Bucky“ you said with a mischievous smile on your face.

He knew that smile and groaned already as he looked at you, hoping you wouldn’t think of something too bad.

„I dare you to steal Sams wings.“ You said already giggling. „Fly around the compound so everyone sees you. And then…“ By now you were laughing and not able to finish your sentence.

Bucky sighed and pinched to bridge of his nose. „And then?“ He asked you and looked at you, still laughing.

„And then you have to scream, that you love Steve.“ You bend over from laughing, holding your stomach.

Bucky groaned and looked at you checking whether you were joking or not. But the way you were laughing he knew you weren’t joking. Not even a bit.

So Bucky was on his way to grab Sams wings to complete his dare. It didn’t take him long to get the wings before he got ready. He just hoped no one would notice. You on the other hand made sure everyone was waiting for him outside. You were ready, holding your phone up in the air to record the whole thing.

And then, it was showtime.

Bucky flew around the compound, looking absolutely ridicules and out of place. You were shaking from laughing almost laying on the floor.

„What’s going on?“ Nat asked Steve as she pointed at you. „She dared him, didn’t she?“

Steve snickered and nodded watching Bucky as he flew.

„I LOVE STEVE!“ He screamed, his face was blushing a whole new shade of red. „AND I HATE (Y/N).“

Sam came running up to you and the others. „Are those my wings? Is Tinman really using my wings?“ He asked furiously and looked at you. But you couldn’t answer. You were laughing so hard, tears were running down your face. „I swear if anything happens to these I’ll kill the both of you!“

Bucky tried to land, but it didn’t look as graceful as it did when Sam landed. He stumbled over his feet and fell down, rolling a few times on the ground. After a moment he got up, fine, and looked for you. With his finger pointed to you he said: „Be ready, my next dare will be way worse. And there is no way that you won’t do it. Because the punishment will be just as worse!“

From that moment on you were waiting for your next dare. Like it was the only thing you could think about. And he knew that you were thinking about it all the time. Whenever he said your name you jumped a little hoping he wouldn’t dare you to do anything. It made Bucky chuckle every time.

You and Bucky were laying in your bed all cuddled up. Your head on his chest, his fingers tangled up in your hair. The TV was on but you didn’t really watch it. You had your eyes closed and hummed softly as Bucky massaged your head.

„Doll?“ He asked softly with a big grin on his face. „I dare you!“

Your eyes widen as you moved your head up to look at him. „Come on, right now?“ You groaned and looked at him with puppy dog eyes he usually couldn’t resist. But he was still thinking about how you made him fly around the compound.

„Oh doll, puppy dog eyes won’t do it this time!“ He chuckled. „I dare you to perform a song in front of the whole team.“

Confused you looked at him. Sure, it wasn’t the best thing to do but it wasn’t that bad, you thought. Was he sure that this would be the worst dare he ever made you do?

You moved into a sitting position on your bed and looked at him, still a bit confused.

„Wait, I even got some things for you.“ He said and got up. „I talked to my new friend, you might know him. Peter? The little spider dude that Tony loves more than anything?“ He gave you Peters mask and his web-shooters and grinned. „He was happy to help me out. Remember that one song we found on YouTube a few weeks ago? That Spider-Man song?“

Your eyes widen even more. You knew exactly which song he was talking about. Because you showed it to him. A few weeks ago both of you were laughing whenever you saw Peter because you were thinking about that song. Now you weren’t laughing. Not at all.

„Bucky, no way!“ You whimpered as you held the things in your hands. „That’s not fair.“

He laughed and shook his head. „Making me fly with Sams wing wasn’t fair either. F.R.I.D.A.Y. would you please inform everyone to meet us in the living area?“

„Of course Mr. Barnes.“

Bucky was laughing as he looked at you. „Let’s go!“

You huffed. „Can I at least get changed?“ You asked him already grabbing some leggings. Since you guy were already laying in bed you weren’t properly dressed. One of Buckys shirts and some shorts. But he shook his head.

„Oh, hell no. You’re doing it like that. Put your mask and web-shooters on.“ Bucky told you, grinning as you sighed.

When you got to the living area, the whole team was already, waiting for you and Bucky. When they saw you with Peters mask they already knew what was going on. Bucky sat down with them and grinned at you.

„Another dare, huh?“ Tony said and shook his head, already done with the two of you. „It can’t be worse than you flying around the compound declaring your love for Capsicle?“

Bucky rolled his eyes at Tony while the others were laughing, including you. „Oh doll, don’t laugh too hard. After that everyone has forgotten what happened a few days ago.“ He told you. Peter was already laughing, knowing exactly what would come next.

„Everyone, please shift your attention on our very next Spider-Man.“ Bucky introduced you before he told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to start the music.

Luckily with your, well Peters, mask on nobody could see your flushing cheeks as you began to move. It didn’t take the team long to laugh just as much as Bucky was. Every now and then you were using the web-shooters as you were singing along. Of course Peter was filming everything so you would never forget that this happened.

At the line: „With great power comes great responsibility“ You moved down to your knees just as they did in the video. By now nobody could hold back their laughter. And you weren’t done, whenever the song was directed to Tony you would point at him and sing it directly to him as it was only you and him.

„That’s how I live that Spidey life, that spidey life.“ You sang and shot another web from Peters web-shooter directly onto Bucky, pinning his hand down just like Peter did at the airport when you guys were all fighting each other. With that, the song was over and you took of the mask, throwing it back to Peter.

Everyone was laughing so hard, they all had tears in their eyes. You probably would’ve laughed just like that if it wasn’t you standing in front of them.

„You and your dares…“ Sam laughed at you. „It’s the best thing that happened in a long time.“

The others agreed, making you smiling sheepishly. You loved it when the whole team was having fun on their days off.

„How do you guys even come up with stuff like that?“ Nat asked and looked from you to Bucky.

You shrugged. „I don’t know. Somehow we just started!“ You told her giggling as you thought about other dares you and Bucky already completed. „Anyways, Bucky?“ You looked him directly into his eyes and grinned mischievous. „Revenge is coming. And this time, it’ll be the worse dare you ever had to do. I promise you that.“

Bucky laughed it off as he pulled off the spiderwebs from his hand. „We’ll see about that, doll. For now, this will be the new thing we laugh about for days.“ He got up and grinned at you before leaning down to whisper into your ear. „I didn’t know you would be this sexy dancing!“

Your cheeks felt hot as you bite your lip, looking down.

„Maybe you could show me again? Just you and me?“ He asked seductively and grabbed your hand, softly pulling you with him.

[3d-wifey]

Temptation Sings

Pairing: Ryūnosuke Tanaka x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, fluff, senpai kink, p*rn watching, implied bisexual reader, excessive use of the word "babe" & some curse words

A/N: The senpai kink is sort of one-sided, but what kink isn't 💀 and the title is sort of based off a lyric from Super Freak by Rick James. Also, those are actual lines from a Hentai, but I fucking lost it half way through so I had to improvise. Anyway, this is over 3,000 words of straight dog water. Enjoy!

Synopsis: You ride Tanaka while watching hentai

"What kind of porn do you watch?"

"What?" Tanaka let out a quick bark of laughter before staring at you with wide eyes. His hand was frozen over the bowl of popcorn as he turned his full attention to you. The two of you had been dating for over a year now, yet, you've never had sex.

Sure, there had been some over the clothes stuff before. Some tops off heavy petting, some groping while making out, but it had never progressed past that. Not for a lack of trying, of course. Anytime you could find time to hang out alone, something would always interrupt you.

You weren't a virgin, but you didn't have much experience, so, naturally, you were more than a little nervous. And Tanaka, bless his soul, was pretty understanding. As long as you two could still make out and he could grab your ass, he seemed fine. But, he's still a teenage boy, no matter how respectful. He could only handle being blue balled so many times. And you wholeheartedly felt the same way.

This seemed like the best way to go about it. Establishing a common interest in what you both liked to get the ball rolling.

"Porn. I know you watch it, Ryuu. So...what kind?" You sat up on your side of the bed and leaned against the headboard, knowingly making him eye level with your breast. Nothing wrong with a little incentive.

"Okay, wow. You're serious. Um," he stuttered, eyes flickering over your chest and back to your eyes, before a blush settled flooded his cheeks, "You're just gonna laugh." He moved his gaze over to the movie playing on the laptop, avoiding eye contact. Was he embarrassed? He should know by now that you didn't judge.

You wouldn't be dating him if you did.

"I promise I won't laugh, baby. Look, I'll go first," you moved the bowl of popcorn off his lap and grabbed his hands to pull him up, "Pay attention."

"Wha–"

"There's Amateur, Lesbian," you ignored his questioning look and kept going, "Creampie, Fingering, Solo male and female, Public, and Taboo. That's all I can think of off the top of my head. You like any of that?"

He stared at you slack-jawed. Had you been too forward? You thought if you were honest about it, you both could be comfortable with each other. You watched in anticipation as he moved his gaze from you to the ceiling.

"Thank you, God," he whispered, almost on the verge of tears, "I must truly be blessed."

"Are you serious, Ryuu," you scoffed, hitting his arm to hide how relieved you really were, "You made me anxious for nothing!"

"That is so hot, babe," he grinned excitedly, moving to sit on his knees with his legs folded under him, "All that stuff sounds cool, and we're definitely gonna come back to that lesbian thing later, but I usually just watch...Hentai." He cleared his throat, scratching his cropped hair.

You pulled the laptop over to you and paused the movie playing. Pulling up the browser, you typed "Hentai" in the search bar, and hesitated for a second.

Hentai. Of course, it was hentai. You weren't surprised in the least that he got off to cartoon characters fucking. In fact, you expected it. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date him. You briefly wondered what kind he watched before it hit you.

Oh, yeah, you thought, he'd like that.

"What are you doing, babe?" He questioned. You paid his nervous laughter no mind as you queued up the perfect video. You were a genius.

_

"Are you okay with this, Kasuri?"

"I've been telling you that it's okay!"

You watched as the small girl pushed the boy on the ground and climbed on his hips to straddle him backward. To your complete surprise, you were actually kind of invested in the plot. Sure, some of the lines made you cringe and the ethics behind the sister trying to fuck her brother were a bit iffy, but, somehow, it was keeping you entertained.

The less than spectacular writing didn't seem to be affecting Ryuu any. With how much he jerked off to this kind of stuff, you figured he was probably used to it.

"I want you to take it...take me Senpai."

You felt Tanaka stiffen up beside you before quickly relaxing. Well, more like you felt him force himself to relax. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he subtly, or as subtle as Tanaka could be, adjusted himself in his sweats.

He was trying very hard to hide how much the video was affecting him; however, you always found Tanaka easy to read. The furrow of his brows, the twitch of his muscles, the restless tapping of his fingers along his thigh—all of it was effortlessly understood like the words of a well-loved book.

He was holding himself back for some reason that you couldn't find the effort in yourself to figure out, but he wasn't the only one affected.

"You have to tell me what you like. You have to teach me, senpai."

There was that stiffening again.

You placed your hand high on his tense thigh, completely ignoring the eyes burning into the side of your face. Unlike Ryuu, you were a fantastic actor. You decided you would wait for him to fully relax, or be as relaxed as any teenage boy could be while watching porn before you would strike.

You waited for the moment his leg softened under your hand and oddly enough it was at the point in the video where they showed a very detailed shot of the boy coming inside of the girl. He probably thought it was ending soon. Little did he know you were going in for the kill.

You cuddled further under his arm before you looked up at him with imploring eyes.

"Do you wanna do that...with me, senpai?"

It was just like any other kink, you rationalized. It was on par with the guys who were into being called 'Daddy' or 'Sir' or some other title. It didn't do anything for you, but if your magnificent hunk of a boyfriend got turned on by being called senpai, you were more than happy to go along with it.

"Well?" You prompted when he said nothing and gawked at you like a test he didn't study for.

"What did you call—is this—are we actually about to—" His wide eyes switched between you and the computer screen before deciding you were far more entertaining.

Instead of answering his stammering, you rose to your knees to pull the sundress over your head. You unhooked your bra and threw it off the bed with no regard for where it landed. It was a shame it wasn't one of your cuter ones, but you doubted Ryuu cared.

Your hands paused on the waistband of your panties when you realized he was frozen beside you, eyes flickering over your body like he didn't know where he should look.

"Am I gonna be the only one naked?" You would have thought he was on the court with how fast he jumped off the bed.

You watched from his bed as he struggled to get out of his clothes. It was adorable how excited he was, but he wasn't the only one. You've been waiting nearly thirteen months for this and you were practically vibrating out of your skin.

You were content to watch him almost bust his ass as he tried to get his sweats off when you remembered something.

"We don't need a condom. I'm on birth control." You started birth control years ago to handle your irregular periods, but it also came with the added benefit of Ryuu being able to cream you like a Twinkie.

He stared at you for a second with a blank face before closing his eyes with his hands clasped together...almost like he was praying? You heard him whisper something suspiciously along the lines of him being blessed before he practically bounded up to you like a hyper puppy

Probably not the best analogy to be made in your current situation, but it was true! He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his hands out like he always did before a match. You briefly wondered if he ever did this before. He never told you if he got this far with any of his exes and you never asked.

At that moment, you decided it didn't matter what he did before because you would be the best he ever had.

Your hands shot forward to pull his underwear down before pausing.

"Is... Is this okay?" You asked, hands hovering over his boxer briefs. For the first time during the entire affair, you were hesitant. What if you were pushing too fast? You hadn't exactly asked anything. You just gave out demands and he followed. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you ended up pressuring him into this.

"I—," he stopped, staring down at you with wide eyes and for a split second, your heart stopped, "Are you kidding, babe? God, yes, it's okay!"

You honest to God giggled when you pulled him onto the bed with you and clamored onto his lap, like the stereotypical school girl. You calmed yourself down enough to just look at him. The way he gazed at you with a year's worth of pent-up desire made slick dampen the seat of your panties.

"You're just—you're beautiful. God, I love you so so much," the sincerity in his voice was amplified by the goofy grin he gazed up at you with and the blush on the apples of his tan cheeks, "you know that, right?"

One look at Ryuu and even a blind man could see how much he loved you. It was a good thing his feelings were mutual or it'd be pretty embarrassing.

"I love you too, idiot," your hand settled on the back of his close-cropped head to pull him into a kiss. And in typical Tanaka fashion, he kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. He kissed like his only goal was to leave you as breathless as you made him. And he always succeeded.

"Now," you took a deep breath, "are you gonna fuck me, senpai?"

The groan he let out against your lips was more than enough of an answer for you.

You rushed to pull your panties off, thanking whoever was watching over you that it wasn't one with holes or bleach stains on it.

You reached to pull him out of his boxers, but he beat you to it. It gave you pause how he whipped it out like it was nothing to gawk at.

A little over half the length of your forearm, his dick was nothing to scoff at. He was the same width as your wrist with a thick vein running up the underside of his shaft.

Not the first dick you've seen but by far the biggest. Your heart rate picked up as you thought of the logistics of how he'd even fit inside you. You'd probably have trouble with just the tip.

You pulled the foreskin back to see precum already collecting at the angry red head. He jerked when you took the heavy weight of his dick into your hand and you could barely wrap your fingers around him. You didn't think he'd be so sensitive but you called yourself thankful for it. Easier to tease.

You rubbed his tip against the opening of your pussy and pulled away, strings of slick still connecting you. You repeated the action a few times before taking pity on your poor boyfriend. You used his quiet moans as motivation as you pushed his head past your tight hole.

You hissed at the unexpected stretch. The burn veering on the side of uncomfortable, but not painful. You couldn't tell if it was because of how long it had been since the last time you had sex with anyone or if it was because of the sheer size of him.

You decided it was the latter as you tried to take more of him.

"Here," you grabbed one of his thumbs and rubbed it over your clit in quick circles. The callused pad pleasurably rough against the slick covered bud. Luckily, he caught on quickly and kept up the pace as you tried to sink further down. The ache in your walls added to the pleasure on your clit.

You sighed once you finally reached the base. You hadn't expected this much effort would go into just taking him.

He was panting hard, eyes closed and struggling to hold still enough to let you adjust.

"Okay," you breathed, "okay." You slowly rose to your knees and peeked at his dick as it came out coated with your slick, before driving yourself back down with a moan. You settled your hands on his shoulders as you picked up a rhythm.

"You're such a badass, babe," he praised and you would have laughed if him shoving himself into you, thrust for thrust, didn't fuck a series of moans out of you.

You peppered quick kisses against his lips as you drove yourself up and down. You ran the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip before nipping at it. He eagerly took the hint and opened his mouth to you. You swallowed his groans as your hand slid up to the front of his neck and squeezed, tongues pressing together in an openmouthed kiss.

When you pulled away, his eyes flickered between your bouncing breasts, where his dick split you open, and your lidded eyes.

"I've dreamed of this for so long," you moaned as his hand resumed its motion on your sensitive clit. How he was able to piece together coherent sentences was beyond you, "Wanted you so bad, baby. So. Bad."

The headboard slammed into the wall as you sped up your pace. You were lucky you two were the only ones in the house.

"That's right, babe. Bounce on Senpai's dick. Fuck," he cursed, voice cracking when you swiveled your hips, "You like that, don't you? My pretty girl." You didn't want to admit it, but the senpai thing was really doing it for you. Not the actual word, but the sheer affect it had on him.

You can't say you were surprised by how talkative he was, his dirty words dripping over your overheating body like rich syrup. If you knew watching porn would lead to this, you would have done it ages ago.

His big hands used his grip on your ass to rock you back and forth at a faster pace. You relaxed your legs and let him take the lead, pulling his head towards your chest. The animated girl's moans on the computer combined with Tanaka's and created a harmony that pushed you closer to your release.

You moaned freely into his neck as the change of positions dragged your swollen clit over his pelvis with every buck of your hips. Sweaty bodies pushing and pulling against each other in a motion that was more grinding than riding.

Wet and sticky slaps echoed around the room, punctuated by the meat of your ass meeting his wet thighs. Thighs made wet by your juices collecting at the base of his cock.

Your release bubbled low in your stomach, steadily being pushed higher with every one of Tanaka's sloppy thrusts. It pulled heavily from below your naval, expanding to the point where you felt like you could burst. You weren't a virgin—this wasn't your first time, but, God, it felt like it was. And it might as well be your first time with how sensitive he made you.

You were sweaty and you were sore and so, so completely overwhelmed. But your mind was wonderfully cloudy with the pleasurable haze of an incoming orgasm and it made it hard to care.

"You close, babe?" You whimpered out a weak yes as his lips trailed from your jawline down to your damp neck before sucking on the skin.

"Can feel you squeezing me. So damn tight." He panted against your heaving breasts.

You knew it was coming, but knowing and feeling were too different things. Your thighs burned with fatigue, but you couldn't stop. You were so close and the humid air blurred out everything that wasn't Ryuu's cock plunging against that spongy patch on your wall and you didn't want it to end.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you as you used him for your pleasure. Head thrown back and skin gleaming with sweat.

"Shit, I'm-" he grunted at the tightening grip your walls had on him, just begging him to cum, "Fuck, 'M not gonna last, babe." His hips twitched uncontrollably as he rammed into you.

The knot in your stomach built and built before suddenly loosening, your vision blanking completely. Not that you could tell with how far back your eyes rolled. Hands shooting forward to desperately cling onto him as you trembled. Nails digging into his tense biceps, a mantra of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your thighs shook as you rode yourself past the sensitivity.

And that's what does it for him, your impossibly tight heat clamping down on him. Tender balls pulled taut against his body as the white ring of cum coating his cock grew with every one of your thrusts down.

The only sound that escaped him was your name broken by his breathy moans.

Once you came back around, you're still dazed with cooling sweat gathering on both of your bodies. The air is still clammy and you were sore from your neck to your thighs but it didn't stop you from looping your arms around Ryuu's neck.

He gathered you into his warm chest, heavy arms locked around your waist.

"So," he huffed, "lesbian porn, huh?"

"Shut up, Ryuu."

[maemelany]

Fixing the Broken (Part 3)

Summary: People say that time heals all wounds. In your case, time made it worse.

You’ve been married to Chris for five years, but his absence spoke louder than his words. After 5 years of trying, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, and you left him. But Chris doesn’t want to let you go; he doesn’t want to give up on your marriage.

Would he be able to fix what you consider irretrievably broken?

Warnings: Angst, tiny tiny mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.6 k

Pairing : Chris Evans x Reader

A/N: I hope you like this one. I can’t wait for your reactions about this one. I can only imagine what @fallenoutofrose will have to say about Chris’s behavior in this part 😂

Enjoy and let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list

Love x  Mae ❤️

Masterlist 

Prologue , Part 1 , Part 2 Part 4 

“It is better to hope than despair.”

-Lailah Gifty Akita,

You finally knocked. After standing in front of that door for what felt like an eternity now, you finally knocked. Your legs felt like jelly, and your heart was pounding in your chest. You were feeling more anxious than the day of your wedding, and the irony of the situation made you almost laugh. Almost, but not quite. You were about to when Lisa opened the door.

She was as radiant as ever, a big, warm smile on her face. Honestly, it surprised you. You knew that she knew. Now that Chris was back, there was no way Lisa wouldn’t know what was going on. That man told everything to his mother.

Lisa let you in, and you followed her into the living room. The house felt like a second home to you. Actually, it felt more like home than your place with Chris sometimes. There was always something happening here. When you left your house, you almost came here. But you felt like it was unfair to Chris. Lisa was his mom, and her house was his safe place, not yours.

“Chris told me everything. How are you holding up honey, are you okay?” Lisa asked you

Her kindness broke your last defence. Her genuine, motherly concern about you made you feel guilty that you didn’t come to her sooner. Lisa had always been so kind to you, taking you in as her own daughter from the moment Chris introduced you as his girlfriend. Your lips started to shiver as you were trying your best to hold the tears back.

“Oh, honey… please don’t cry.”

She took you in her arms, and you broke into tears. It may have lasted five minutes or an hour; you weren’t sure. These days you were crying so much it was just the new normal.

Your best friend had been a great support to you, but she had to. She was your best friend. Chris’s mom was supposed to be on his side, defending her son’s best interest. Not yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me things were that bad, Y/N?” Lisa asked you

You looked away. Somehow ashamed that you thought Lisa would reject you.

“I … I don’t know. Chris is your son, and…”

“And you’re my daughter. Y/N, you’re family. We all love you!” Lisa said, taking your hands into hers. “Plus, I bet some even love you more than Chris,” Lisa joked.

You laughed, feeling a little bit more at ease now. “I’m sorry…” you whispered.

“Don’t be. I am sorry we didn’t see anything,” Lisa said

You shook your head. It wasn’t their fault. They weren’t responsible, Chris and you were. It was your marriage, after all.

Lisa asked for your version of the story, and you could tell she was trying to be as partial as possible. You hated that you had to put her in that situation. She cringed when you told her Chris didn’t notice you were gone until he went to Carly’s place.

“That boy…” she said, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, a sad expression on her face.

“It’s not your fault Lisa. Actually, it’s not even Chris’s fault. I can’t force him to stay married to me,” You said

“You think he feels… forced to be with you?”

You shrugged. “I mean… why else would he be as far away from me as he possibly could?”

Lisa watched you closely. You could tell she wanted to say something but was refraining herself.

“You two should talk. Maybe you could solve this…” Lisa said

“I don’t think us talking would do any good. We tried that yesterday; you should have seen how shi… messy it was”

Lisa tried to hide her smile when you stopped yourself from swearing. “If talking to each other doesn’t work, maybe you should try talking to someone else…” Lisa suggested

You frowned. You didn’t see how Chris and you talking to Lisa would help. Yes, Lisa was a wise woman, but as she said herself, she was your mother both. Knowing Chris, he would take it personally if his mother called his shit out about his marriage. You still remembered what happened the last time Lisa agreed with you instead of Chris. He was salty for days.

“I love you, Lisa, but I don’t think talking to you would fix this,” you gently said

Lisa laughed. “I wasn’t talking about me, honey. I meant a therapist.”

“A therapist? Like couples therapy, you want us to go to couples therapy?” you asked.

Lisa nodded. You never thought about that.

“I thought couples therapy was supposed to happen before couples decide they want a divorce.”

“Not necessarily. It could help you express your feelings in a safe place. And, you decided you wanted a divorce, honey. I don’t think Chris agrees with you.”

You frowned. If Lisa thought the warm smile would help you accept the subtle criticism easier, she was wrong. You were even worse than Chris when it came to being right. 

You loved being right and hated being told that you could have done something wrong, especially in that very particular situation. You were right. You had to be right. It would kill you to realize you were wrong and left the man you loved for nothing.

“Do you think I went too far…” You said, the tears resurfacing

“Oh no,” Lisa immediately told you. “You did what was right for you, and that’s the most important. I can’t even imagine how you must have felt, alone in that big house.”

A huge weight lifted off your shoulders. Secretly you thought people didn’t understand you. You were married to Chris Evans, living what they thought should be a fairy tale. 

Even though you and Chris were what people called a private couple, he would sometimes tell things about you or express his love for you when he was being interviewed. When those things happened, your friends would always send you messages, reminding you how lucky you were. 

They didn’t know how far they were from the truth. Most of the time, you were alone in your bed when you were reading their messages. Alone and lonely. 

People think they know things about your life, your marriage, but they don’t. They would have to walk in your shoes, feel what you daily felt to actually understand.

When you left Lisa’s house, she had convinced you. She made you realize that even though things between You and Chris were pretty bad, your relationship was worth saving, or at least you owed it to Chis and yourself to try. Even if therapy didn’t work, you still owed it to yourself and Chris to end things the most peacefully possible. Before being your husband, he was your friend. You needed at least that friendship to be saved.

Instead of going back to your best friend’s place, you went home. It wasn’t even a conscious decision. You started driving and found yourself taking the way home. Instead of turning back, you continued. You realized waiting wouldn’t help. You’d waited so much already, now was the time to act.

As you opened your front door, you felt submerged with that particular sent. You were home. Despite what you told Chris yesterday, this house was your home. You chose almost every piece of furniture.

 Chris was more than happy to leave it to you; he didn’t understand why you needed so many pillows on the bed or a particular shade of beige for the dining chairs. Instead of explaining everything, you would just ask for his opinion when it was absolutely necessary. Plus, it was hard to decorate a house via FaceTime. 

Thinking of it now, decorating this house helped you manage your loneliness for some time. You were proud of every single room, from your bedroom to the laundry room.

You found Chris and Dodger sleeping on the sofa. You weren’t surprised. The couch was probably Chris’ favorite spot in the whole house. You had your office, and he had this sofa. 

You were tempted to lay next to them. They felt like home. But you didn’t want to wake Chris up. If there was one thing Chris was lacking, it was sleep. You also noticed the dark circles under his eyes yesterday, and the current situation was not helping his sleep deprivation.

When you noticed a few takeout boxes in the room, you knew exactly how to occupy yourself. Chris used to love your cooking. Your skills were definitely better than his, but as your husband liked to say, one cannot be good at everything. You smiled when you remembered how you would tease him about his horrible cooking skills, and he would remind you how messy you were.

Even now, after thirty minutes of cooking, the countertop looked more like a war zone than a kitchen island.

“It smells good.”

You jumped. You didn’t see Chris coming, and now you had tomato sauce all over your blouse.

“Chris! You scared me!” you said, looking at him.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, observing you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

You looked at him with more attention. He looked less tired. You wanted to say something, but Dodger was all over you before you could open your mouth.

“Hey, baby. I missed you so much,” you said to your dog.

Dodger started to bark. The high pitch he usually reserved to Chris when he was coming back home after long periods of absence.

It broke your heart.

“He missed you,” Chris finally said

You didn’t know what to reply. You didn’t want to say something that would create a hostile environment for the rest of the evening.

“I need to change myself,” you said, showing your now stained blouse.

You were gone before Chris could even blink. Once in your bedroom, you found everything exactly as you left it. You rolled your eyes, mentally asking yourself how Chris could be so organized. And then you realized he wasn’t that organized. It wasn’t just the bedroom that was exactly as you left it. The walking closet and the bathroom were too.

Chris wasn’t sleeping in your room, and you wondered why.

When you went downstairs, you found him making the table.

“I thought I’d made myself useful,” Chris said when he saw you.

You smiled. That was the kind of evening you used to dream about. You and your husband casually sharing dinner together.

Chris was very attentive, serving you wine, asking you if you needed anything. You wished you could be so relaxed. You wished you weren’t about to drop a massive bomb on him.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in our bedroom?”

Your question surprised you both.

“I… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem… right.”

You looked at each other, your eyes saying more than a thousand words. Again, you were reminded how easy it would be to just give in, to just come back. But it would be a temporary relief, one you would only enjoy until he’d decide to leave again.  

It took you the whole dinner, and filling the dishwasher, and watching the first part of a show to gather enough courage and tell Chris you two needed to see a therapist.

It happened before he was about to kiss you. You could feel it in his eyes, the way they became darker, and the way his body leaned closer to yours. You could feel your heart beating faster and the room suddenly feeling hotter than before.

You wanted to give in, you missed his touch, you missed his kisses. You missed sex with your husband. But you knew it would make things more difficult. Sex had never been a problem in your relationship. Actually, it made you forget about the problems. You couldn’t remember how many times you were on the verge of telling Chris you weren’t happy with the situation and totally forgot about it the minute his hands were on you.

“No,” you said, standing up.

You started walking around the room, trying to compose yourself. It was frustrating how all your perfect, well-prepared plans got ruined the second you were around Chris.

“Y/N,” Chris whispered.

“No, we are not having sex!” you half screamed.

You needed to convince not only Chris but yourself that you were not having sex tonight. But looking at him, looking at him, looking at you made things very hard, literally and figuratively speaking.

“We’re going to therapy,” you quickly said

Chris blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

You cleared your throat. “I said, we are going to therapy.”

You could tell he was surprised. You didn’t know if it was good or bad.

“Y/N… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

It was your turn to be surprised. You opened your mouth but closed it immediately after. You wanted Chris to explain himself before jumping to conclusions.

“With how public we are and…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, anger quickly possessing your whole body.

“Y/N…”

“You’re worried about your reputation? Do you even want us to be together, Chris?” you asked him.

“I’m not worried about my reputation. I’m worried about… our privacy.”

“Chris, therapists have a duty of confidentiality,” You said, raising your voice.

“Well, you won’t believe how many people would break it given the right sum,” he screamed back.

You wanted to scream, anything that would release the frustration you were feeling inside.

“Do you even want to fix this?” you ask, as calmly as you were able to

Chris huffed. “I was begging you to come home with me yesterday. Of course, I want to fix this.”

You crossed your arms. “me coming home right now would not fix things; it would bring us back to this,” you said, throwing your hands up.

“And this is so bad, right?” Chris asked, bitterness in his voice.

“No, this is perfect. This is what I want permanently. It will kill me to come back to this if this is not forever.”

The room went silent. So many emotions went through Chris’s eyes, and you were trying to decode them all.

Chris finally drew a long breath. “I am not going to couples therapy.”

His words stung more than you could have imagined. They also unleashed the silent anger that was rising inside of you since the beginning of that conversation.

But instead of screaming and crying and pleading with Chris, you reached for your handbag. You were done trying to negotiate with him. You were done trying to spare his feelings.

You removed the divorce papers that had been sitting in your bag for days now. You threw them on the coffee table near Chris and waited for him to look at them.

You could see him become very pale, and if you weren’t that angry, you would be worried.

“Are they…” He started

“Yes. Divorce papers. We go to therapy, or you sign them. It’s your choice.”

Chris was startled. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m more than serious. I have a pen if you want to sign now.”

You looked serene, but inside, your heart was dropping lower with every second Chris wasn’t doing anything. You knew you were forcing his hand, but he left you no other choice.

“So, what is it going to be, Chris?”

Chris took the divorce agreement into his hands, and you held your breath. Your heart started beating again when he tore them in half.

He gave you a deadly stare, but at this point, you didn’t care anymore. He could be angry, scream at you, even hate you, as long as it meant you were doing something to try to fix things, you could take it all.

“Text me when you find a therapist you can trust,” you said before taking your bag to leave.

If he thought you’d be the only one sweating for this, he couldn’t be more wrong. It takes two to tango. It was about damn time for Chris to act. Because you were sure that this time feeling sorry or even good sex wouldn’t fix things.

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[alrightberries]

our sorry little hearts

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

❈ genre: angst. ❈ word count: 1.6k

❈ summary: Levi hasn’t seen your traitorous Eldian face in years.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. war. mentions of blood, death, and violence.

a/n: you’ve heard of enemies to lovers, now get ready for... lovers to enemies. this takes place during the liberio invasion aka S4 E6. based on a love like war by all time low.

(also don’t tell anyone but this is me lowkey warming up after not writing for so long)

There’s something oddly nostalgic about seeing you again on the battlefield.

Levi recognizes your usual battle stance; feet a shoulder’s width apart and hands tightly clutching the handles of your sheathed blades. You’re wearing the scouting regiment’s outdated white uniform, green cape hiding the leather straps your missing brown jacket usually would. He’s not surprised you’re not wearing your wings of freedom jacket, though; he was, after all, the one who sliced it in half during your escape with Zeke on the Cart Titan’s back. He hasn’t seen it, but he’s positive that a long scar runs down the length of your spine.

“Levi,” he hears you murmur, and he pretends that his heart doesn’t ache after hearing his name slip from your lips for the first time in four years. “I—... Levi,”

He feels his chest tighten. You still look as beautiful as he remembers you to be, and the fact that you still take his breath away is something he hates. It’s been a long while since he last stood on a battlefield with you. Only this time, there were no trees to swing from or titans to kill; no reassuring squeezes on the shoulder or cheeky kisses when no one was looking; no small smiles or stolen glances across the field as your horses galloped through Titan Country. No— this time, you wore different colors and fought on opposing sides.

“Levi, talk to me,” your tone is airy, said in what seemed to be a mixture of built up anticipation and disbelief. But there was something in your voice— something he couldn’t quite place. Was it relief? Longing, perhaps? Maybe even regret. But Levi pushes those thoughts aside in favor of gritting his teeth and giving his traitorous wife a stone cold stare. “Levi, talk to me, please.”

He refuses to reply. His hands are shaking from how hard he was gripping the handles of his blades, and he swears his heart was going to burst out of his untrimmed chest from how loudly it beat at his ribcage. There are about a million and one emotions swirling around his head— betrayal. anger. sadness. melancholy.

And he doesn’t know which one takes over him when he charges at you full speed.

There’s a grunt followed by the sound of metal clashing against metal, and Levi’s not surprised to see that your reflexes are still as sharp as they were before. His own cape whips in the wind when he turns to land another strike. But then he hears sound of your hooks digging into bricks, and he’s quick to take your little fight to the air in pursuit of you.

He knows he has to be at the plaza to save Eren’s ass but he also knows that he had at least seven minutes before he had to go. He’ll make this quick.

“Levi,” he hears you call out. You’ve led him further away from the plaza— maybe intentionally or unintentionally, he doesn’t know— and he’s only now realizing that you both stood on the side of a building, the hooks on your gears the only thing keeping you up. “My love—-”

“—don’t call me that,” his heart twitches and he sneers. It’s the first thing he’s said to you in years and god did you miss his voice, miss him in general. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that,”

“Levi,” you breathe, but the deep growl that escapes his lips is enough for your words to die in your throat.

“Stop,” he says. “You’ve lost the right to speak my name; you’ve lost the right to wear that cape,” his eyes land on the silver chain you wore around your neck, a gold ring hanging in the middle. It matched the one he had back home, the one he secretly held at night and kissed sorrowfully when he felt like breaking down. His voice is quieter, almost pained as he speaks, “you’ve lost the right to wear that ring. You’ve lost the right to even look me in the eye after what you’ve done.”

His words sting and your throat tightens when you once again remember the look of pure and utter betrayal in his eyes when you confessed you were a spy on behalf of the Marleyan government. The way he froze, hoping you were lying; yet the tears running down your cheeks and the apologies that slipped from your lips as you got down on your knees and begged him for forgiveness left no room for contest.

“Levi, we don’t have to fight, please just hear me out. I’m still the wife you loved—-“

“No,” he cuts you off. “My wife is gone. She died in the battle for Shiganshina.” your lip quivers, and he continues to speak. “You? You’re an enemy. You’re as good as dead to me.”

Your words once again die on your tongue when he charges at you, and you just barely manage to leap away. The edge of his blade scrapes against your thigh, and blood paints your trousers red when your feet land on the cobblestone streets.

Every attempt you make after, any attempts at conversation is silenced with a swift swing of Levi’s blades, almost as if he were seeking catharsis through violence.

You grit your teeth. “You’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

His silence and steely glare is all the answer you need, and you sigh. Your stance shifts, and the grip on your blades changes; you were finally taking an offensive stance, Levi notices. Blocking his blows wouldn’t be enough— you couldn’t reason with him no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn’t win with just defense. You had to outsmart him; you had to win. You had to.

“I’m sorry, levi, but losing isn’t an option for me. Not this time,” you murmur.

You didn’t want to fight him, he could see it in your eyes. But you were fighting for something, for someone more important than him. Your eyes— the first things he fell in love with, the ones that were usually fiery and full of life— are soulless, almost solemn when he sees you run at him full speed, and Levi pushes down the hurt he felt at the thought of you loving another as he charges at you too.

A tear silently falls down your cheek. You loved levi, but you loved him more. You were fighting for him, and he was waiting for you back at home.

There’s a grey little building in the Liberio Intermittent Zone, somewhere between the gates and the plaza. The gunshots and explosions just barely reach the drab building, and the smoke rising into the air is the only thing visible to the naked eye of the chaos unfolding at the plaza.

A Marleyan soldier, donned in white and war medals, stands in front of an open window. She’s got binoculars in her hands, and she peeks through the eye piece to watch as two figures fight. Their capes create shadows of black where they flutter, and their silver blades gleam in the moonlight.

She smirks. Your negotiation failed, just like she said it would, and now you had no choice but to fight to the death.

Good, she thinks, that Eldian scum’s doing her end of the bargain.

She leans back and a satisfied hum leaves her lips. She turns to look at the little boy, no more than four years old, sat on the bed. The red Eldian arm band clasped around his arm brings a grimace to the soldier’s face. She can’t believe she got stuck with babysitting some lowlife scum.

“Is mommy doing well?” he asks timidly. He doesn’t even know that you were out there about to murder a man, but the kid was smart; he at least knew your job carried a heavy weight.

“For now,” she replies. The boy’s jet black hair bounces slightly as he nods, and his slanted eyes are downcast, staring at the floor. His silvery grey orbs dare not make contact with hers.

The boy looked almost nothing like you— if anything, she was sure he looked to be the spitting image of his unknown father. Strong genes, the father must’ve had.

She finds amusement in how tense the boy was around her; at least his whore of a mother had the decency to teach the kid his place in the world. He was worse than an Eldian, the lowest of the low— he was half Paradis demon. He should’ve never been born. They should’ve beaten you to death along with your unborn child like she’d suggested when you came back from Paradis knocked up.

“You can kill me, but spare my baby, please.” she remembers you begging. “I didn’t even know i was pregnant. Not even the father knows.”

Still, maybe it was a good choice to keep both you and the demon child alive. As much as she hated to admit it, you were a skilled soldier— one of the best they’ve ever had. Threatening your life meant nothing to you, but threatening your child’s? All they had to do was suggest it, and you’d follow their commands like an obedient dog chasing after a dangling treat.

“When’s mommy going to come home?” the boy suddenly asks.

“Soon,” she replies, eyes once again gazing through her binoculars. “If your mother does her job well, she’ll be back soon.” There’s a telephone beside the soldier, ready to make the call should you ever stop fighting. A sniper awaits her signal.

“If she doesn’t... well,” she laughs. The door to the small room you called home is locked, and the loaded gun hidden in the soldier’s pocket is a weight she’s familiar with. “Do you believe in god?”

“No,” the boy shakes his head. “Who’s that?”

“Tell you what, kid. if your mother fucks this up, i’ll personally see to it that you meet him soon enough.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[thatrandomwriter]

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

*

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

*

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

[lxngbottom]

Nev fluffy smut there he’s choking the reader and accidentally makes her pass out

Weirder Things Happen | N.L.

in which neville accidentally makes the reader pass out during sex.

warnings: light smut, fluff!!!, soft dom!nev, choking, fainting, (lmk if i missed any!)

LITERALLY THE ONLY REASON I’M DOING THIS REQUEST IS BC THIS SHIT HAPPENED TO ME I WISH I COULD SAY I WAS JOKING WKFJWL

—

maybe neville had gotten a little too caught up in the moment, and maybe he just grabbed your throat a little too tight... and just maybe you were enjoying yourself so much, you didn’t even notice your vision becoming black.

he was pounding into you relentlessly, and you let out loud moans under the silencing charm that neville had placed before hand. everything was going just great, and the both of you were just about to reach your climax.

“my beautiful baby... always takes me so fucking well...” he cooed, his hand wrapping around your throat. you were used to this by now, as choking was something that neville was very much into. and, who were you to deny him of it? it felt amazing when he did it.

the harsh thrusting continued, the headboard clashing against the wall every time. his grip was getting tighter, and tighter, and even tighter. he usually did this without even realizing it, his hands giving you some sort of sign that he was about to cum.

but, suddenly, you breath hitched, and for a moment, you simply thought the pleasure was just too overwhelming. but then, everything went black.

neville’s eyes were screwed shut, and he only noticed your fainted figure when he opened his eyes to look into yours. his thrusts came to a halt, and his eyes widened at the way your arm had fell over completely limp. he quickly took his hand away from your throat, and pulled out of you without a second thought.

“oh—oh my god... baby?” he slapped your cheek lightly, but you didn’t budge. he began to panic even more, “petal? jesus—oh my god please open your eyes!”

you had always made jokes about how you would be the luckiest girl in the world if you died during sex with neville, but he didn’t think you were actually being serious. and of course, as neville was possibly the biggest over thinker in existence, he actually believed that his cock had killed you.

his eyes went teary from worry, still shaking you in an attempt to wake you up.

“please, y/n! please—oh my god! what do i do?!” he began to place small kisses around your face, and even began to sob like a child. “y/n, please! please, please, please!”

finally, your eyes slowly fluttered open. he literally had to take a step back to gain some relief from the panic attack he was having, even though you were becoming fully aware.

“shit...” you muttered under your breath, sitting up a bit, that ache still between your thighs. you looked over at your frantic boyfriend, tears streaming down his face and a look of embarrassment as well.

“nev... what’s wrong, honey?”

he furrowed his eyebrows, “what—what’s wrong?! you—you like—died or something! or—or fainted... i don’t know!”

as much as you tried to hold it back, you couldn’t help but to let out a little giggle at your boyfriend.

“it’s not funny!” he cried out, and he hid his face in the palm of his hands. “i’m—i’m never choking you ever again!”

you couldn’t help but to feel sorry for him, as you could tell that he had been genuinely worried about you.

“awww... nev—come here...” you cooed, reaching your arms out to him. for a moment, he shook his head, reluctant to even come near you. “it was an accident, love! you didn’t mean to! it’s more funny than anything!” you attempted to reassure him, but he was still all over the place about it. you made puppy dog eyes at him, “it’ll make me feel better if you come and cuddle with me...”

as much as he was trying to fight it, he finally gave in. you didn’t seem angry or upset with him, which was a huge relief. but at the same time, he felt like a bloody idiot for not being aware of how tight he was grasping onto your throat.

he laid down beside you, basking in the warmth you provided him with as his head settled into your chest.

“i’m—i’m sorry... i-i-i didn’t know i was hurting you...” he apologized, wrapping his arms around your waist. you chuckled at the apology,

“i’m not angry, nev. i promise i’m not. and plus, i’m completely fine. things just... happen, i suppose.”

“yeah... but i don’t think those type of things include passing out during sex because your boyfriend is choking you way too hard...”

you placed a kiss to his forehead, “trust me... weirder things happen during sex all the time.” he looked up at your his eyebrows furrowed, “like... do you remember when you—“ you giggled before you finished, “you farted during sex?”

he groaned at the memory, wanting the whole scenario just to disappear into thin air. you only laughed at his reaction,

“y/n... why did you have to remind me of that?!”

you giggled once more, scooting down so you could be face level with him, “because... i love you, and it’s not your fault.”

he looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but truthfulness hiding behind them. he sent you a small smile, all of his panic and paranoia suddenly fading away.

“well... i love you more...” he replied, and you pecked his lips, and snuggled even closer to him,

“but... promise me you’ll never bring this up. or—you know... when i farted...”

[its-nebula]

V3 Boys With an Overdramatic Fem!S/O

Sigh.

That's all he does is just sigh.

He tries to word things in a way that wouldn't make you feel the need to do any theatrics, but sometimes it can't be avoided.

"S/O... We can't go on our date tonight. I'll be too caught up with work, and... there she goes."

He watched as you rested your hand on your forehead, falling backwards onto the couch, telling him to "go, go on without you".

He jumped when he heard dramatic organ music, and looked to see Kaede playing ab organ right in your living room.

"K-Kaede?! When did you-? Why is-?! How-"

Kaede shrugged, pressing the keys as you continued your monologue.

"She hired me, and I get to play an organ!"

It's a good thing he has patience!

He doesn’t quite know how to keep you from reacting in the way that you do, so he just lets it happen.

“S/O, my dear, you know that I’ll gladly support you through any emotional turmoil you may face...but all they announced was that this was their final season-”

He watched as you laid across your special fainting couch, whining about how you would have to suffer when your favorite show ended.

“Hmm... I never knew that human emotions could be so fragile before I met you.”

Kiyo didn’t mean it in a bad way, but he regretted saying anything after seeing your reaction. 

“Now, now! All I meant was that, according to the studies I’ve conducted, most people usually save these dramatics for the theatre.”

Kiyo, stop talking.

“Really, I think you may have a natural affinity for it, S/O! Nobody would be able to compete with your over exaggeration of the emotions that you display, not by a mile~”

Kiyo. Stop. Talking.

A match made in Clown Hell.

The Drama King and Queen.

I hope everybody around you has prepared themselves because there is absolutely no turning back.

If somebody were to insult you, you’d act like you’d been shot in the heart, falling into Kokichi’s arms.

“No...NO! S/O! Why? Why would you do this to my precious Queen?!”

Here come the crocodile tears.

Don’t worry, it works the other way around too.

“What did you just say? You think we’re overdramatic? WAAAAAAAAAAAAH, I CAN’T EVEN EXPRESS MY EMOTIONS ANYMORE!”

The two of you could fill a pool with how many tears you produce. 

Sometimes Kaede plays the piano for dramatic effect.

“Kaede, will you stop encouraging them? This is a serious problem.”

“I don’t know, I just think it’s kind of funny.”

He's just... over it man.

Ryoma just really does not care anymore.

Every time he tells you news he already knows what’s coming.

“Well, S/O, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I heard the dog dies in the movie.”

Cue his girlfriend crying and monologuing about how the poor animal deserves to live!! He deserves to live!!

“...are you done yet?”

Everyone else in the movie theater lobby was staring at you after you’d been wailing about how Hollywood deserves to perish for their crimes.

Ryoma didn’t really like being the center of attention, so he just grabbed your hand and led you to the movie, a little embarrassed.

He doesn't get it :(.

"Why is S/O acting like that? It looks like her emotions system has gone into overdrive!"

He looked at you rolling around on the floor, after your favorite characters in the book you were reading kissed.

"Sorry, but us meatbags don't have hard drives! Not like you have any idea what it's like. She's just being dramatic, tell her to quit being such a drama queen!"

"I refuse to tell my girlfriend how to live her life! I will comfort her instead!"

He bends down to your level, and attempts to comfort you.

"S/O, don't worry! I will do everything in my power to make sure you're feeling better once again!"

He's so used to eccentric people that nothing fazes him anymore.

“Here she goes again. Thanks a lot for bringing it back up, Kokichi.”

You started to cry about the death of your favorite character, how they shouldn’t have been killed off so early. They barely had time for any real character development! Oh, the humanity! When will the pain end?!

Kokichi laughs because he knew you were going to do it, which is why he brought them up in the first place.

Rantaro crosses his arms and lets you complete your monologue.

“She’ll get tired eventually.”

I mean, really, it would’ve been so much better if that other character had died in their place! They were super boring throughout the whole game anyways, everybody probably forgot they existed most of the time because they were soooooo irrelevant to the plot!

“Mmmhm. That’s nice, baby.”

He’s not even paying attention, he’s flipping through a magazine.

He actually buys into it.

He actually listens to every word that you say when you tend to talk on and on about the tiniest things.

Talking about how that dastardly butterfly scared you half to death by landing on your shoulder?

“Gonta make sure butterfly no can scare S/O anymore!”

If you “faint”, he rushes to catch you, and gives you a piggyback ride.

“S/O should be more careful!”

Freaks out whenever you get overly upset.

"Miu no should say bad things to S/O! S/O is very upset!"

Gives you giant hugs to help you calm down.

"Gonta will always be here to cheer up S/O!"

Doesn't know how to react.

He always tends to forget how dramatic you are, so he says things without realizing that it may upset you.

“Yeah, some guy tried to fight me earlier today, but-”

Kaito? Someone was trying to hurt your Kaito? But why?!

He frowned as you started to cling onto his jacket. You told him how you regretted not being there for him in his hour of need, and how you were basically the "worst girlfriend ever".

"Hey, S/O! You know I still love you, right?"

You weren't listening as you told him how you understood if he broke up with you.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed you and kissed you to make you shut up.

"I said, I love you! You're such a drama queen, S/O, I'm fine! It'll take a lot more to faze Kaito Momota!"

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

<3 companions react to sole being an artist and drawing them?

This is literally something that I can picture my own F!sole doing 🥺 Thank you for the beautiful ask, anon 💙💛

Cait - Feels her chest clench tightly as she gapes at the picture. She takes it in her hands and holds it carefully as if it might tear with the slight motion. Her eyes are a little glassy as she stares at it for the longest time. She finally swallows hard to keep back the tears and when F!Sole finally asks what she thinks of it, she wastes no time in crushing her in a tight embrace, whispering her thanks since she can't quite trust her voice just yet. When F!Sole offers it to her as a gift, she makes a silent vow to never let anything happen to it. Ever.

Piper - Is taken with it and almost feels like crying a little. It's probably one of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for her, and for her Blue to take the time to make something as beautiful as that and make her the main subject? It means the world to Piper, and she wastes no time in hugging F!Sole, thanking her profusely, and asking if she could have permission to print it in the paper. If F!Sole gives her permission, the next issue of the paper is a lengthy talk about F!Sole's accomplishments and how the woman somehow manages to do all that and be an incredible artist at the same time.

Curie - Immediately gasps and holds it as if it is some sort of delicate artifact. It does not take her long to be a mess of blubbering sweetness. She is so happy that her best friend took the time to draw her and to do it so beautifully. And when F!Sole tells her that she can have it if she wants it, she clings to it as if she won't ever let it go.

MacCready - Is completely and utterly shocked by it and the mere sight of the drawing is more than enough to stop him in his tracks. In fact, it stops his entire thought process. As he gapes at it for a while, he is actually able to process a few key emotions--- immense gratitude, strong fondness, and happiness. He may or may not cry... Just don't look at him too closely, okay?! It's a very manly expression of deep emotion!

Deacon - Somehow touches him deeply. Appearance is such a ever-evolving thing for him, but to see himself through her mind's eye in such permanence is a true gift. He mentally notes that he might keep this version of his face for a while longer. He tries to laugh his sudden seriousness off as just being shocked that she somehow avoided drawing a hot butt on him, but he does end up very seriously and sincerely thanking her after a few minutes.

Codsworth - Thinks that he would most certainly cry if he had the ability to convey emotion in such a manner. However, his voice does become very emotional as he thanks his dear mistress and touches her shoulder carefully with his pincer. It sometimes truly baffles him when he sees concrete evidence that she sees him as more than just a robot and a butler.

Hancock - Is totally enamored by it. The euphoria from such a touching gesture is ten times better than any drug that he has ever had, and he is endlessly thankful that he happens to be sober when he first sees the illustration. After several long moments, he asks if they could somehow make it ten times bigger and put it on the walls at Goodneighbor since it is such a beautiful drawing. And he is only half-joking when he says it.

Danse - Is completely thrown off. It means the world to him that anyone would want to spend any time on him in that sort of manner. A work involving effort that he really did not think he was worthy of. It is something that he will remember and treasure forever. He actually even keeps it in a special trunk with all of his other valuable things. He usually keeps it folded in his old BOS uniform that always remains untouched just so he can keep it especially safeguarded from harm.

Preston - Cannot help the huge, enormous grin that comes onto his face at the very sight of it. He looks at her and makes some silly comment about how he did not know the general of the Minutemen was so multi-talented. It almost takes his breath away from the sheer kindness and sweetness of the gesture and he wastes no time in thanking her profusely and hugging her happily.

Valentine - Is truly surprised to see that she is an artist at all and is even more surprised to see that she does it so well and chose to depict him of all people. He casually tells her that if she does not mind then he would sort of absolutely love to hang it up in his office so he could admire it always. Of course, she happily agrees and he smiles and spends a while longer staring at it, committing every bit of it to his memory so that he will never ever forget it.

X6-88 - Is truly and utterly confused. Why in the world would she waste such time on frivolous things like that and furthermore why would she draw a picture of him? He is perplexed by the idea and even more concerned by the sudden strange bubbling of warmth in his chest.

Dogmeat - When Dogmeat sees the drawing, he's very excited. There's a dog on the page that looks just like him! He does not understand how it came to be there, but F!Sole is laughing and petting him and showing it to him, so it must be something she did. So he makes sure to give her plenty of licks to show his appreciation.

Strong - When she explains that drawing is not a way to kill enemies, he does not understand why she would want to draw at all, much less draw a picture of him. Drawing is stupid and it is a giant waste of time since it does not kill anyone. Dumb tiny human needs to work on fighting instead of drawing.

[sortasirius]

“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius.  Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad!  It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES.  THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT.  THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world.  No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack.  That jacket was this silent reminder.  Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look. 

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me.  Billie was coming after us.  Cas summoned the Empty.  It took her...and took him.  Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode.  Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space.  It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here.  This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”?  Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt.  Regret.  Pain.  Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life.  Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying???  Praying to Cas????  Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode.  Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean?  There’s no one left to save!  Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope?  It hits the hardest.  Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head.  It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water.  Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK?  FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing.  Us dead, whatever.  I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other.  Okay, you pick.  But first?  You gotta put everything back the way it was.  The people, the birds...Cas.  You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother.  Willing to die.  Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck?  Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten.  He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him?  That’s the entertainment.  He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy.  He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame.  Suffering.  And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that.  No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone.  Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again.  And Dean.  Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now.  What changed?  Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game?  I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam.  It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice??  I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too.  Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back?  And to tease Cas???  Garbage.

I mean...fam.  Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together.  It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist.  Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer.  We know Eugenie can’t bring him back.  Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael.  He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5.  Loyal to an absent father.  He has never changed, but Dean has.  Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost.  Michael and Chuck?  Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow.  And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face?  Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten.  But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them:  they won’t ever give up.  They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters.  What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free.  No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up.  It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh.  That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life.  That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God.  They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because.  You lose.”

Chills.  What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for.  Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him.  Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas.  He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart.  He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him.  But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from.  Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story?  That’s poetic right there.  Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week.  It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us.  Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief.  It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table?  I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”?  Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be.  The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over.  So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left?  And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left?  What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years.  Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at.  Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas?  Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for.  As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore.  They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together.  They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore.  Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas.  That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week?  Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.

[babymetaldoll]

Nemesis (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Can I request a Spencer x reader where they’re dating and she’s always been quiet about her past but then a case comes up in her hometown and her whole past gets uncovered and it’s pretty bad. That’s when they realize why she had been acting like that.

Summary: A case takes the team back to Seattle, (Y/N)’s hometown, only to discover her past was darker than they had ever imagined. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader 

Warnings: This one is dark. Angst, bloody crime details, Criminal Mind usual content, fluff at the end ‘cos I can’t help it. Also, cursing but that’s just how I roll. 

Word count: 2,7K 

Masterlist

- 

It was obvious there was something wrong with (Y/N). Spencer could see it clearly, though she kept telling him everything was ok. It was easy to read her after working together for five years and dating the last two.

Reid knew he shouldn’t profiler his girlfriend, but he couldn’t help it when he saw the painful expression on her face. She tried to smile when she noticed he was looking at her, but that just made it worse ‘cos now he was sure there was something awfully wrong with her. 

She wasn’t like that when they woke up. She had spent the night over in his apartment, and she looked happy. She made hotcakes for breakfast, and they laughed the whole way to Quantico, talking about the movie they had seen the night before. 

But everything changed the second they received the information of the serial killer they had to catch. 

-

When Garcia presented the case, Spencer noticed how his girlfriend’s face turned white. She didn’t even look at the pictures of the crime scenes. (Y/N) fixed her eyes on her notebook on the table and crossed her arms on her chest. She didn’t speak during the briefing, just bite her lips and the inside of her cheeks the whole time.

- “Today, my dear furry friends, you will be flying to (Y/N) ’s hometown, rainy Seattle, for a case that will give me nightmares for the rest week, so I refuse to look at the screen”

(Y/N) held her breath and stayed as still as possible on her chair. 

- “The unsub is targeting couples in their late thirties. He stabs them to death in their bed, places the bodies as if they were asleep, and forces the kids to lay between them. Then, he locks them in the house until they manage to escape”.

Hotch sighed and looked at the team. Family-related cases always were the hardest for him and J.J. Especially when there were kids involved. 

- “The police department asked for our help because they think it might be related to four unsolved murders that took place in Seattle back in the nineties”-

Garcia finished. Hotch stood up and announced, “wheels up in twenty”, and everybody left the room. Everybody but (Y/N), who couldn’t move. 

- “Hey… are you ok?”- Spencer stood in front of her chair and held her hands. She just nodded and tried her best to smile. 

- “I’m just tired, honey, that’s all. It’s been a long week”. 

- “You can tell me if there’s anything wrong, buttercup, you know that”- she tried to smile and stood up. Spencer cupped her face with both hands and kissed her lips sweetly. 

(Y/N) held her breath for a few seconds, making her best not to cry. When he looked at her, she cut him a small smile, trying to show him everything was ok. 

Of course, it was not. 

Neither Spencer nor anyone in the BAU knew (Y/N) ’s secret. She didn’t want to share it with anyone ‘cos it meant everybody would pity her, and she couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t deal with people looking at her like she was a victim. She hated it when it happened back in her hometown, and she knew she couldn’t handle it if their BAU family looked at her like that.

That case hurt her deeper than she could ever explain, and she wasn’t sure she could keep the secret that was killing her alive for much longer. 

-

During the trip, she barely looked at the files. Spencer sat next to her, trying to comfort her. He knew she wouldn’t tell him what was happening, but he wanted to be by her side. He wanted her to know he was there for her, no matter what. 

(Y/N) knew that, but of all people, he was the last one she wanted to share her secret with. She was too embarrassed and too scared he could run away. She was also too damaged, and she had, somehow, managed to cover her wounds for all those years. 

But now, everything was collapsing, and she knew it could only get worse from there. 

- “Morgan, you and Reid talk with the forensic. We need every detail on the killer’s M.O.”- Hotch said as soon as they landed in Seattle- “(Y/N), you and Prentiss talk with the family of the latest victims. JJ, Rossi, we will speak with the police chief and see the previous investigation files”. 

(Y/N)’ s heart stopped for a second. She held her folder fight and nodded, making her best not to show her whole body started shaking. 

Spencer could read it, (Y/N) was hiding something, and it wasn’t something good. He leaned in and kissed her temple and held her hand tight. 

- “Do you want me to go with you? I can ask Hotch…” 

- “No, honey”- she whispered, shaking her head- “I’m ok”

- “Sure”- she nodded and pecked his lips- “I’ll see you back at the police station, ok?”

-

Prentiss was doing all the talking. (Y/N) could barely breathe in that interview. A thirteen years old little girl sat on a couch, nearly crying, holding her grandmother’s hand tight, as if her life depended on it. 

-” I know this is hard, and you are doing great, Kristy. I need you to close your eyes and tell me, what do you remember of that night”. 

Without even notice, (Y/N) did the same. 

- “Mom and dad stayed up after I went to bed. I heard them talking in the kitchen when I went to the bathroom” 

- “What time was it?”- Prentiss whispered 

- “Eleven… eleven-thirty”

- “And do you remember anything odd? anything that didn’t look right?”- Kristy stayed in silence. You could tell she was doing her best to remember. 

- “The neighbor’s dog was barking“

- “Ok, good”- Prentiss praised- “You are doing great, anything else? A smell, a noise?” 

- “I heard something in the closet in the hall, like… like someone was chuckling, so I got scared and ran back to my room”- Kristy was agitated, and tears started falling down her cheeks. (Y/N) held her hands and looked at her, whispering. 

- “You had heard that chuckle before, hadn’t you?”- and the girl nodded. 

- “But your parents told you you were too old to believe in the boogie man, right?”- (Y/N) continued, fighting her own tears.

- “(Y/N)?”- Prentiss was confused

- “It’s not your fault-” (Y/N) whispered and wrapped her arms around the girl, who now started sobbing- “You have to understand it’s not your fault. He wanted you to be scared”. 

- “(Y/N), what are you talking about?”- Prentiss asked her but still didn’t get any answer. 

- “Kristy, this is important. Do you remember if a stranger had been in your house in the last week?”- but the girl just shook her head- “He may have said his car broke down, or he was lost” 

- “A man came last Wednesday”- the girl whispered, still crying- “He said he needed help with his car… dad borrowed him some tools and helped him change his tire”

(Y/N) nodded and looked at Prentiss. 

- “That’s the guy” 

- “How do you know?”- Emily was confused. Not only because tears kept falling from (Y/N) ’s eyes, but because of her deduction. 

- “Believe me, that’s the guy. I’m gonna call Hotch”. 

- “(Y/N)! Wait!”- Prentiss ran after her friend and followed her back to the SUV- “What the hell happened back there?”

- “What do you mean?”- the young agent tried to act as if nothing had happened. Which was impossible, but still, she gave it a shot. 

- “You knew something about this case! You knew the girl had heard the unsub before, how?”

(Y/N) stayed still and just looked at her friend, took a deep breath, and lied. 

- “We studied this case back in the academy. Some of the kids said they had heard a chuckling the days before the murder”

Prentiss frowned. She had read that case over and over again, and she knew that information wasn’t in any file. But it was apparent (Y/N) didn’t want to talk about it. 

-

Against all odds, (Y/N) managed to go through the day, keeping herself as calm as possible. After talking with Kristy, she and Prentiss reached the police station. Spencer was waiting for her with a hot cup of her favorite coffee. Just what she needed. He held her hand and kissed it as they walked to the rest of the team. 

- “How are you feeling, buttercup?”

- “I’m tired...”- she sighed and looked into his chocolate eyes. They were filled with love for her. The kind of love that made her feel no matter what, everything was going to be ok.  

- “When we are back home, I’ll run you a bubble bath. Would you like that?”

- “I would love that, honey” 

-

They delivered a profile, which confirmed it was the same killer as in the nineties. A white man. Now in his late fifties. His parents had committed suicide when he was thirteen. He was left alone with the corpses for three days until a neighbor contacted the police because of the smell. As he grew up, his trauma led him to kill couples around his parents’ age, with a single kid the same age as he was when he died. 

- “Hey baby girl, I need you to help me find this unsub”- Morgan called Garcia as the whole team gathered around the board. It was late, and they were all tired, but they didn’t want to give the unsub the chance to kill again. 

- “I need you to run me a list of all the prisoners in the area who were released a month ago, that’s when the crimes started”

- “You are gonna have to give me something else, chocolate thunder. Do you have any kind of idea how many people are released weekly from jail?”

- “Ten thousand”- Spencer answered and kept his eyes stuck at the board- “Garcia, he is around fifty, white, and had been in jail approximately thirteen or fourteen years”. 

(Y/N)’ s heart was beating so fast inside her chest she thought anyone could hear it. Her legs were shaking, her eyes were watering up. But she had to keep herself together. She had to, for the team. For herself. For this case. For the victims.

- “Still too many”- Garcia said 

- “Can you see if any of them had a red truck?”- (Y/N) asked, and the whole team turned to her, confused 

- “Why a red truck?”- Hotch asked her, confused 

- “It was a theory we analyzed at the academy”- she lied again. 

- “Bingo! Sam Paterson, 53 years old, was released five weeks ago. I’m sending you his last known address right now”. 

-

- “(Y/N), I just read all the files about this case, including the cases from ’98, and they never mentioned a red truck”- Spencer asked his girlfriend. They were in the SUV, and Morgan was driving. Reid turned to the backseat to look at her, but she kept her eyes in the window. 

- “I don’t know why it wasn’t there. Maybe they dismissed part of the evidence”

Reid was afraid to ask again, so he just nodded and turned to Morgan. 

- “How long until we get there?” 

- "Two minutes. I can’t wait to catch this bastard”. 

-

The unsub was hidden in a barn at the back of his property. He had all the trophies he kept from the crime scenes: a toy from each kid’s bedroom. 

They surrounded him quickly, but he kept pointing a gun against the team. He knew he was fucked, but he wasn’t going to surrender. 

- “You are done, Sam”- Morgan tried to talk to him, but the unsub just looked at the agents around him and laughed. 

- “I was sure you were going to be the one to get me”- he said and looked at (Y/N)- “You haven’t changed a thing”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) muttered and bit her lips, trying her best not to cry. She didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her crumble. 

- (”Y/N) James, sorry, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you use your mother’s last name now”

- “Shut up!”- the gent spit those words holding her gun tight. She could shoot him. She wanted to shoot him. But she wasn’t a monster like him. She had to keep telling herself that over and over again to keep her from pulling the trigger.

The whole team looked at her in shock. James. The James was the last couple the unsub killed in ’98. Their thirteen-year-old daughter was left with their bodies for a whole day locked in the house before she managed to escape.

- “(Y/N)?”- Spencer didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe it. 

- “I always knew you were special, (Y/N)”- Sam smiled- “You were the only one who heard me. Too bad mommy and daddy laughed at you when you told them someone was walking around the house at night”

- “You are sick”- it was a miracle that (Y/N) wasn’t crying. The anger that filled her body was too powerful, and it fueled her with revenge. 

- “Maybe I am sick, but I’m also the one who knows you better than anyone”- he made a pause and looked around at the rest of the team- “Oh! They didn’t know! Why didn’t you tell them? Want me to give them the short version of the fact?”

- “You don’t know anything about me!” 

- “That’s where you are wrong. I know a lot about you, (Y/N). I hunted you and your parents for weeks. Remember that little cat that used to play in your backyard? Garfield, that’s how you called him, right?”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) was having serious trouble stopping herself from pulling that trigger. She wanted to kill him and avenge her parents. They didn’t deserve to die just because a sick bastard decided to kill them. 

- “I always wanted to ask you, how did you feel when you laid there with them? After I killed your parents, how did you feel? ‘cos when I laid with mine, I just felt such peace… Did you feel peace too? (Y/N)? did you?” 

A single gunshot was the end of Sam. Spencer put his gun down after killing him and looked at his girlfriend. She was shaking. He didn’t say a word. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her tight, just to hear her burst into tears. Tears she had been holding for years. 

- “I’m here, I’m here with you”- he whispered as he kept kissing her cheeks- “You are safe, I’ve got you, (Y/N)”

- “He… he…”- she tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Spencer held her closer, tighter, and kissed any part of her he could. Her shoulder, her head, her cheek, her hair, her temple. 

- “He’s dead, (Y/N). He is never going to hurt you again”

(Y/N) couldn’t move. She just kneeled on the floor, a few feet away from the corpse of the man that had killed her parents. Spencer held her in his arms and carried her outside. 

- “You are safe”- Reid kept repeating, and she just nodded as he sat her in the back of an ambulance

- “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you, (Y/N). Did you know that?”- Reid ran his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping off the tears that kept falling from her eyes. 

- “I will protect you, forever”

(Y/N) looked at him and quivered her chin again. She knew he meant it, and a small part of her felt relieved he knew everything now. Even the dark part she had managed to hide for years from everybody.

- “I love you so much (Y/N), and I am so proud of you. You overcame a situation that most people would never get over, and you became an amazing woman. The amazing woman I love” 

- “Thank you”- (Y/N) whispered and sobbed- “I just didn’t want to tell anyone so they wouldn’t pity me”- she said and hugged Spencer tight again, hiding her face on his chest

- “No! listen to me. I am proud of you, that’s how I feel about you, ok?”- he looked at her and kissed her cheeks sweetly- “I love you (Y/N)”

- “I love you too, Spencer. Thank you for being here”

- “Always”

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

1 Oct. Suptober: Harvest

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

post-15x09 au snippetfic; deancas, samwena 

"Get the fuck away from him," Cas rasped, and it was the swear as much as the simple fact of Cas being alive that caused Dean to gasp and open his eyes.

He'd screwed them shut in anticipation of a killing blow that never landed. The witch had reeled around and away from Dean toward Cas, and the dagger in her hand glinted in the one of bar of light that was piercing through the boarded up basement window.

Dungeon window, more like. Cave window. The darkness made it difficult to determine where exactly Cas was in relation to Dean. A few feet away? Way on the other side of the room, maybe still half slumped against the spiderwebbed stone wall? Dean tried, and failed, to stand. Something was oozing into his right eye; his legs wobbled like the floor was made of bouncy house.

"Cas," he said once without the sound reaching his own ears. He fell backwards, wooden slats splintering on his weight.

In the dusty beam, the tip of Cas's angel blade blazed like a falling star that blinked out as the second witch holding it stalked into the dark again. 

Dean heard her guttered low cackle, as though she were a radio station the dial had finally properly tuned. His whole body went cold. 

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

"And feathers," the other crowed, before beginning a frantic chant in a language Dean did not recognize.

"Feathers, yessss." The witch's hiss poured like venom into Dean's veins. 

His eyes had adjusted only enough to see the angel blade raised high, and, somehow, the shadow of Cas's wings spread singed and mangled on the wall.

"Or perhaps both wings."

No, Dean thought. No, no, no, no. Please, no.

"We can hack them off at the--"

She'd stopped talking because her head was whizzing past Dean's own. He might have yelped in the effort to dodge it. Overhead fluorescent light banged into the room. Rowena stood in the door, arm raised like she was hoisting an invisible car over a fence; the witch who still had a head had crumpled to the ground. Sam stood over the beheaded body, breathing heavily and wild eyed as a banshee, small sword still aloft dripping red.

The witch on the floor squeaked once, like a mouse stepped on by a particularly pointed heel, and fell silent. 

From beneath her now unmoving form, what seemed like a mere pool of ink spread and spread until it almost touched Dean's boot.

He couldn't catch his breath. The room was quiet like a roar and he could not stand up. He thought to rub at the wetness in his eye and found the substance was sticky. Pressing harder made fire race into his eye socket and up his temple.

Sam was moving towards him, weapon thrown down with a clatter, but Cas arrived first, his face, wracked with fear and dappled with blood across his cheekbone, swimming into view as he knelt.

If his was the last face Dean was ever to see, Dean could take some comfort in it. He refused to close his eyes again.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said, smiling lopsided and rueful. 

Cas's hand fell to cup Dean's jaw like a blessing; it turned out Dean was lying down, though Dean had no memory of seeking earth. 

Cas's other thumb rubbed across Dean's forehead like he was tracing runes onto Dean's skin. Dean felt something crackle beneath his bones: for a split-second, his heart stopped, suspended in pain. The next second was like being punched out of a cannon -- he sat up and nearly knocked his newly healed skull directly into Cas's.

"Dean," Cas breathed in relief despite the pallor of his complexion and the way his hands shook as they pulled away from Dean. Then: "Thank you," he told Sam, who nodded and hauled him to his feet by the elbows before reaching to do the same for Dean.

Sam patted Dean on the shoulder. Rowena stepped around the puddle of witch and grinned her smug grin. 

Cas looked at Dean like he might vanish and Dean returned the stare until he had to look away or… Or. 

There was crimson on the sleeve of Cas's trench, in a crease.

Rowena and Sam collected the angel blade, the dagger, the gory sword. Dean collected himself. He followed Cas's heavier than usual trudge up the stairs and into the coming dusk. The ache of wanting to gather Cas into his arms followed him all the way back to the motel.

In the other room, Sam was talking to Jack on the phone while Rowena hooted. Well, that's what it sounded like she was doing anyway, and since there was a child in the mix, albeit a twenty-something toddler who was 90 miles away, hooting was by far the least concerning noise she could have been making.

Not that Dean in any way was going to ponder what other sounds she might choose to unleash in a room also containing his brother. He sat on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom and stared at the three jack o'lantern sized pumpkins that he and Cas had bought at a roadside stand a few hours before the case went witch-shaped. He envisioned the pumpkins with toothy grins and chose not to think about anything else with such effort it was a miracle he wasn't carving the gourds psychically.

Cas came out of the bathroom sans trenchcoat -- which was to say, almost naked -- and with a clean face. He sat down beside Dean carefully. "How are you feeling?" He looked at Dean with soft eyes, like Dean was the only concern worth voicing.

After a moment, Cas sighed into the space Dean was supposed to have filled.

"I guess," Dean started. He gave his own sigh. "We've fixed a lot of things, recently, haven't we?"

Cas tipped his head, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Like. Chuck's out there. But. Jack has his soul. Rowena isn't dead. You don't have a deal with the freakin Empty dogging your heels bad as a pack of hellhounds." Dean curled his fingers like his hands were going to betray him somehow; his throat felt full of glass. "You gotta stop saving me, man."

Cas took a breath like Dean had struck him. A variety of memories of actually hitting Cas -- blood crisscrossing, bruises blooming -- flashed through Dean so quickly he almost retched. 

He was trying to keep his mouth closed and his treacherous stomach obedient when Cas said, "You cannot ask me not to help when I can still help."

"You're the one who said I wasn't listening about your powers--" He held up a hand against the protest he could see Cas about to make. "And you were right. I dunno what to do about it, but I know you havin' to heal my dumb ass nine times a week isn't makin' things better."

Dean could see Cas's eyes were wet.

The shards in Dean's throat made it hard to speak. "You're worth more to us, to me, than just what you can do as a powered-up angel." He nudged Cas's knee with his own. "You know that, right? Not that I'm not grateful as hell for you fixing me up tonight, 'cause I am. Grateful, I mean."

He looked at Cas, whose exhaustion seemed to be draped around him like a cloak. Dean was tired too, and not just from the major brain injury he'd sustained earlier. He’d wasted so much time not saying certain things, not letting certain things happen; he’d protected the wrong things, maybe, or maybe the right thing the wrong ways.

Maybe he could blame lingering effects, illusory or otherwise, on what he chose to do next. 

Cas, he prayed, you might have died tonight. We… I. I almost lost you again. 

A prayer continued, whispered: Please let me hold you.

Beside him, Cas startled, looked over at him. Searched Dean's eyes and shook his head just a little, as though he could not believe what he'd heard -- as though having hoped, but misheard, was too agonizing a possibility to endure.

"Please," Dean said, sliding an arm around Cas's back, sliding himself closer on the mattress until he'd vanished the space between them.

Cas turned into Dean's arms. "I almost lost you again tonight too." His voice brimmed with tears. He hooked his chin over Dean's shoulder and Dean soothed his hands over the blades of Cas's shoulders. He thought of the shadow of those majestic, tattered wings, and held on more tightly. 

He and Cas rested like that, trembling, for what seemed like an hour or more, neither of them willing to let go. When sitting upright became less comfortable, they reclined together on top of the polyester comforter patterned in pinecones. Cas tucked himself into the hollow of Dean's body, as though he had done it before somewhere other than in Dean's imagination. Dean pressed his face into Cas's soft hair and let his eyes burn as they would.

None of it solved anything; it was simply more right than anything Dean had felt in a very long time.