#My brother was really hung up on the pants thing

[bedrockkbros]

okay, WHO got the Technoblade skin banned on Minecraft.... Like come on, fess up.

[iliketangerines]

wife please kuai liang facesitting wife please wife you know how i feel about this wife PUHLEASE

kuai liang banging his fists on the table and just staring at reader going "HOLY FUCK JUST SIT ON MY FUCKING FACE ALREADY" (i'm lying his ass would not do that)

entangled in your wamrth

a/n: @partycatty college is kicking me down into the darkest pits of hell right now

pairing: kuai liang x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), porn with feelings, pussy eating, face sitting, brief overstimulation, creampie

Kuai Liang scratched at the side of his face, observing you training the initiates from the other side of the sparring fields

it had been a few months since the Shirai Ryu had been established, and things were finally settling down: initiates had started training, the buildings were coming along, and Takeda had finally managed to calm down enough to not try and escape every day

the only thing he had yet to do was marry you

his engagement ring sat heavy on the thread around his neck, glinting the sunlight into his eyes and reminding him of the delay

yours similarly hung around a thread around your neck, the metal tucked underneath your tanktop to keep it from flying around while you showcased the moveset

perhaps it was just the uncertainty of the future: if plans would change, if Bi Han would attack, if Liu Kang would require them

he didn’t want to have to keep pushing the date of the wedding further and further back, disappointing both you and him

Tomas called out his name and snapped Kuai Liang out of his thoughts, and his younger brother looked at him with an amused smile

“you know, you really should marry them soon. everyone here is itching to see you two get married.” Tomas stood next to Kuai Liang, slightly bumping his shoulder into the grandmaster’s as a he gave a cheeky grin

“besides, we all see how you two stare at each other. it’s only a matter of time before something happens.” the gray assassin laughs and turns into smoke as Kuai Liang turns his head and goes to smack his younger brother

he scowls as the gray smoke moves away and toward you, materializing into Tomas

over the soft breeze, Kuai Liang could hear his brother challenging you to a spar, to show off your moves to the initiates properly

you smile at the gray assassin and slightly crouch, beckoning him to attack you first, and Tomas grins at you, lowering himself into his fighting stance

Kuai Liang watches from the side, heat creeping up his neck as Tomas’s comment plays in his head while he watches you fight

you’ve stripped off the upper layers of your uniform underneath the heat of the sun, your pants hanging onto your hips and exposing your soft underbelly

he turns his head away, fingers reaching up to play with the metal ring on his necklace, but his eyes dart back to you just for a moment

even through the fabric of the bottoms, your strength still shows with how you leap into the air, grappling with Tomas even as he tries to dodge you

it’s an impressive sight, and Kuai Liang watches as you take down Tomas, wrapping your thighs around his neck and slamming him to the ground and disorienting him

he taps at the side of your thigh, and you release him, helping Tomas up as the initiates cheer and clap for your win

Tomas goes to leave, but you grab back onto his hand, telling him to stay, you need a practice dummy to show off all your moves

the assassin pales and turns into wisps of smoke, flying toward Kuai Liang and appearing right behind him before solid hands push the grandmaster out from underneath the shade of the pagoda and into the light of the sun

you laugh when you see Kuai being pushed and you walk over, sweat covering your skin, and yet despite the heat, you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a kiss

Kuai Liang places one hand on your hip, the other coming up to cradle your upper back and bring you in closer as he tastes you on his tongue

you taste like black tea, the last drink you had, and you smell of sweat and musk and you

he wouldn’t change a single thing truly, and he melts into your embrace, trying to drag you closer into him, almost trying to bring you into him

you pull back first, breathless, and look up at him with a knowing smile, “you really miss me that much?”

Kuai Liang keeps his hold on you, laughing softly and sneaking in another kiss to the corner of your lips, “of course i did. how could i not?”

you roll your eyes at the comment but nonetheless smile at the corniness, peeling yourself off of him and grabbing onto his hand to drag him to the initiates

already, he misses your warmth against him, and he sighs in discontent at the fact that he couldn’t hold you a bit longer

“Tomas doesn’t want to help, so you’re going to have to help me. all you have to do is stand still and look pretty,” you turn back to him with a smirk, “not like it’ll be hard for you”

Kuai Liang lets out a laugh and murmurs a quiet agreement, too distracted with how the light breeze plays with your hair and how the edges of your eyes crinkle up when you smile or how your face brightens every time you see him

placing him in front of all the initiates, they bow and greet him properly, and he bows back, letting them sit down as they watch the demonstration

it’s nothing too complicated what you show, simple kicks and hits and dodges, fundamentals to more complicated moves

you send them off to practice and weave in between their fighting forms, correcting their posture, their form, and reminding them of the moves

Kuai Liang moves off to the side, sitting down on the steps leading down to the training fields, and watches as you teach, fingering the ring hanging on his necklace again

as the sun starts to set, the kids lay on the field, out of breath and sore from practicing all day, and you laugh and tell them to go and get dinner and have fun before bed

they all go to leave, but one student’s hand shoots into the air, “wait! can you show that one move again? it was so cool!”

you tilt your head and look for the questioning voice, smiling at a young girl, “of course i can, which move do you want to see?”

“the one where you wrapped your legs around Master Smoke’s neck and took him down just like that!” the girl slaps her hand down for dramatic effect, and you laugh

your head turns to Kuai Liang, and you jerk your head to bring him to the yard

he obliges and walks to the middle of the field, crouching down to prepare for the blow, and you set yourself up across the field from him, bouncing up on the balls of your feet before crouching down

a second passes as you both collect your breath, and then you charge at him

Kuai Liang instinctively moves to get away, but you immediately adjust, leaping up into the air perfectly and swinging yourself up to wrap your legs around his neck and squeezing

he falls down to the ground, grunting and pulling at your legs but you remain firm, squeezing your thighs even tighter around his neck

his hand frantically taps at the side of your thigh, and you loosen your hold on him, smiling and laughing while the initiates clap once again

you stand up from the ground, shooing them off to get dinner, but Kuai Liang remains on the ground, an arm draped across his burning face as he tries to control his breathing

not ever had he really thought about your legs like that once, yes he had admired the muscle, the strength you held, the beauty of your body

but he had never once considered that he would find it so…arousing

of course, he knew about it, as careful as his father was, the three teenage boys had managed to find a way to scrounge up erotic art

he remembers glancing at it, unsure if it really was that appealing or not before turning to the next page

his memory replaces the picture with you and him, your thighs surrounding his head, your scent enveloping him completely, your pleasure dripping down his face all because of him

another flash of heat travels up his neck, and he can smell his clothing starting to burn and fringe at the edges from the embarrassment

“Kuai Liang, are you okay?” you peer over him, crouching down to examine him, and he sits up and clears his throat, waving his hand in the air

“i’m okay, just a little caught off-guard.” he tries to hide the raspiness in his voice, the thought of your thighs wrapped around his head prevailing frustratingly

a sudden wave of jealousy bubbles up in his stomach at the thought that you had wrapped your thighs around previous opponents before

he had watched you perform the move countless times, it was almost your signature move at this point, and Kuai Liang has to smack himself internally to shake off the envy

you hold your hand up for him to grab, and he pulls himself up, hoping that you didn’t notice the heat in his palms

“come on, let’s go and get dinner. i’m starving.” you bemoan it dramatically, holding onto his hand and practically dragging him out of the field

your ring comes loose from your tanktop, catching the last fleeting rays of the setting sun

Kuai Liang wonders if the time will ever be right to marry you, if time will ever permit, there would always be something to attend, something to fight, something to defend

coldness creeps up onto the tips of his fingers at the thought of never being able to marry you, to seal his love for you in history, to let the world know that he loved you so greatly and devoted his entire life to you

Kuai Liang tugs your hand into his before you can disappear to the dining halls

“let’s get married. right now.” Kuai Liang sounds breathless, feels breathless as he says it

you turn around with wide eyes, brows lifted in surprise at his rudeness, and he grabs onto your other hand and rubs his thumb over the top of your hand

“i don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, if the Lin Kuei will attack, if Liu Kang will summon us, but i do know i want to marry you. i want to marry you before it all happens.” Kuai Liang rushes the words out, nervousness creeping into his voice

you stare at him slightly open-mouthed, your breath so quiet that Kuai Liang has to strain to hear it, and he struggles to keep his hands still as he hold onto yours

a small smile creeps up onto your face, and you laugh, throwing your arms around him and squeezing him tightly

“of course i will, Kuai. let’s do it.” you bring your head back to look into his eyes, sparkling with something bright, and you bring yourself forward to kiss him

Kuai Liang meets you with just as much force, teeth clacking together painfully, and you pull back slightly enough to laugh at how eager the both of you are before pressing back in

the next day, the both of you sign the marriage certificate at the office down in the town by the Shirai Ryu

neither of you can let go of each other’s hand as the both of you walk back up the mountain,  smiling and giggling at each other

bark litters the back of your shirt from how many times Kuai Liang backs you into a tree and starts kissing you, hands gripping tightly onto you everywhere, your shoulders, your waist, your hips

when you both finally make it back up, Tomas stands there with crossed arms, a small smile on his face

“so you two finally decided to tie the knot?” Tomas teases Kuai Liang, but the gray assassin gives his grandmaster a small gift bag for the both of you

Kuai Liang smiles and looks to you, “yes we did.” he squeezes your hand, and you squeeze it back, smiling back at him

“i thought i would be your best man, Kuai, but alas, i guess i’m not your true brother after all.” Tomas sighs dramatically, and Kuai Liang rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to punch him in the shoulder

“of course we’ll have a proper ceremony in time,” your husband brings you in a bit closer, “just couldn’t wait any longer.”

“well then, we’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day then. go and have some fun” with a small wink, Tomas disappears before Kuai Liang can grab him, face burning

it was bad enough that he had found something out about himself yesterday, and it was even worse that Tomas knew what you two were going to do

he opens the gift bag, and the both of you look inside

Kuai Liang thinks he is going to kill his brother as he stares at a bottle of lube, burn cream, and a small box of condoms sitting at the bottom of the bag

you laugh at the gift and tug on his hand, “well come on then. let’s take some time for ourselves. i think we deserve a bit of celebration.”

he wants to be mad at his brother and chase him down around the compound, but he really could never resist your smile, at least not when you looked like that

Kuai Liang lets you drag him through the hallways, blood rushing south as he stares at the back of your thighs, the way your pants hug the curve of your ass

the memory of you wrapping your legs around his neck flits into his head again, and he lets out a quiet groan at the thought, relief flooding through him at the sight of his bedroom door

neither of you waste time, Kuai Liang slides the door close and immediately brings you into his arms to kiss you, melting into your touch, your warmth as you grab onto him

his hands slide down your back, and he cups the curve of your ass, kneading at the plushness and groaning into your mouth

you laugh a bit at his eagerness, pulling back to make a teasing comment, but he doesn’t let you, unwilling to part from your lips even for just a second

he presses further into you, groaning into your warmth, the softness of it, the gentle way it surrounded him, the way it curled inside of him and sent life blazing through his soul

patting softly at your buttocks, he groans for you to jump, and you do so easily, wrapping your legs around his waist, thighs hugging him to tightly

he walks towards the bed, setting you down gently onto the soft sheets and being careful to not crush you with his weight as he presses his lips into yours

you groan, hands clutching onto the back of his uniform, back arching into him, and he settles his hips down further, to press his aching heat into yours

the pressure forces a choked grunt out of him, heat spreading from his stomach and through his body, and you moan into his mouth, rolling your hips against him

Kuai Liang turns his face to bury it into your neck, letting out small moans and whimpers as you grind against him, and he attaches his lips to your neck, lightly nipping at your skin

a small surprised yelp falls from your lips, but you don’t push him away, rather your hands grow tighter, tugging his shirt downward

he places the flat of his tongue over the bite mark, soothing the soft skin and tasting you, and Kuai Liang pulls away, his body aching to grow close to your touch once again

his hands work quickly on your uniform, undoing the sash and belts and buckles, and his mouth slightly parts at he works your top off of your shoulders, showing your chest to him

slowly, his brings his hands from your shoulders and feels your chest as you breathe heavily, your own hands holding onto his upper arms, squeezing and kneading at the muscle

Kuai Liang lets you, too distracted with the muscle he can feel underneath his fingertips, the proof of your hard work and training underneath his touch

he traces the scars you’ve gotten over the years, from trying out new weapons and moves, from sparring your allies and fighting the enemies

tracing the scars with his fingers first, he then lays a feverish kiss on every single one of them, murmuring praises every time

your heat warms him, the embarrassment in your voice as you moan and complain, telling him to stop, but your hands remain steady on his arms and then his hair as he moves further down

slowly, carefully, he undoes the belt holding your bottoms up, and he wets his lips as he exposes every inch of new skin, your stomach, muscle showing up as you tense up your abs when he kisses the softness

his hands bring your bottoms down your thighs, your ankles, and then to the floor, and your legs remain on top of his shoulders, keeping you exposed to him

you’ve gone silent, fingers nervously playing with the strands of his hair that have come loose, and you open your mouth, “you don’t have to, Kuai, i know-”

you interrupt yourself with a gasp as he brings his fingers up to part your pussy lips, staring at the mess you’ve already created for yourself

and all he’s done is kiss you

Kuai Liang glances up at you, “of course, i want to, how could i not?”

he wastes no time after that, pressing his mouth to your pussy, using his tongue to spread the folds and collect your taste on his tongue

it tastes like you, distinctly you, and he moves his head in further for more, his nose bumping and grinding against your clit, the friction making you gasp and whine

wrapping his arms underneath your thighs, he tries to drag you closer, frustrated that he can’t get deep enough, eager to make you whine and whimper

he can’t fuck his tongue deep enough into you, can’t hold onto you as tightly, can’t taste you as well, frustration wells up in his chest

his hips rut into the bed instinctively, the rhythm inconsistent and jerky, too engrossed with your pleasure to try and get himself to cum

he whines into your pussy, and he pulls away, glancing up at you as you let out a disappointed sound and look down

“i need more. i need more of you. i need you to sit on my face.” Kuai Liang crawls up, patting at the side of your thigh to get you to move as well

“what? i mean, are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you.” you move to get on your knees but kneel next to his head, not quite moving yourself above him just yet

he frowns, a hand grabbing onto the flesh of your thigh and squeezing it slightly, “please. you won’t hurt me. i promise.”

you oblige with his plea, moving slowly until you hover above him, your heat just a few inches away from his face

Kuai Liang moves his arms, grabbing onto your legs and pulling you down onto his face, his tongue fucking into you and nose grinding into your clit again

this time he can taste you, feel every part of you, how your thighs trembles around his head, how your pussy tightens around his tongue

your hips jerk onto his face, and you let out a whine, hand flying down to grip onto his mussed hair

he groans at the feeling, pulling you down tighter onto him, relishing in the feeling of you tightening your legs around his head as your clit grinds harder on his nose

it’s addicting, the way you slowly start to grind on his face, your pleasure spreading across his face, your taste coating his tongue

through the muffle of your thighs surrounding his head, Kuai Liang can still hear your choked moans and whimpers, how you whine out his name and gasp

his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, heating up as he moans into your cunt, eyes closing as he savors the taste of you

he thrusts his hips into the air, almost instinctively to try and find any friction against his aching cock, but Kuai Liang finds that he can’t really care

no, not when you sound so sweet, taste so delicious, feel so wonderful wrapped so tightly around his head

you gasp out his name, a short warning, and he fucks his tongue eagerly into you, tasting how you release on his tongue, feeling how you grind desperately onto his face

gripping onto you even tighter, he tries to drag you down further, to get more of you, and you whimper and gasp, thighs tensing as you jump up

his arms keep you firmly attached to him, even as you whine that it’s too much, that you just came

but you don’t even attempt to try and get up, still grinding down onto him and gripping onto his hair like a lifeline

Kuai Liang fucks his tongue into, wanting to at least get one more out of you, just one, and he moans into your pussy

you let out a pitiful choked moan of his name when you come on his face again, and he lets you ride out the vestiges of your orgasm, tongue lapping up into you to try and get every drop

slowly, you bring yourself up, thighs trembling with effort as you move yourself off of him and onto the bed, laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling

Kuai Liang turns over to look at you, licking his lips as he stares at you

your chest rises and falls rapidly, a slight sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your hair is messy and frizzy from the heat of the room

you look beautiful, and Kuai Liang gently tilts your head so that he can kiss you, needing to feel you against him again

letting him guide you, he keeps your head tilted and his lips to you, kissing you, tasting you, feeling you against him

your hand gropes at his pants, and he pulls away, “ah. you don’t have to.”

“i want to. i really do. come on-” you slightly squint at him as you paw at his pants a bit fruitlessly, head still fuzzy from the orgasms

Kuai Liang sheepishly smiles at you, feeling his face flare with heat, “...i already came. i need a few minutes.”

you stare at him with wide eyes, “just from…?”

he responds with a nod, glancing away from your amused face to your thighs, looking at the thick muscle shake as you begin to laugh

grinning at you, he shuffles downward and throws your thighs back over his shoulders, and you let out a surprised squeak and stare down at him

“now, who’s laughing?” he knows it’s a corny line, and you can’t even get an answer out before he places the flat of his tongue against your clit, leaving the long drag on the sensitive bud

“that’s! that’s not fair! you can’t-hnng!” you cut yourself off with a small sound as Kuai Liang wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly on it

his eyes flutter close as you try and stutter out a curse, and he simply smiles against your pussy, moving down to fuck his tongue back into you

you whine and grip back onto his hair, your head tilting back into the pillows as he tastes you on his tongue

he really could stay here forever, forever surrounded in you, your thighs squeezing his head tightly, your sweet moans filling his ears

his tongue laps at you endlessly, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you, and he can feel himself growing hard again, his hips rutting against the bed and his cum sticking to the cloth of his underwear

whimpering, he pulls his pants down, just enough for him to fist the base of his cock and keep himself from cumming

“Kuai- please please--nngh, i want you,” you plea with him, voice breathless and a little hoarse, and he looks up to you, how you look at him so openly

he brings himself up, keeping your thighs up on his shoulders as he brings himself up to kiss you, pulling off the rest of his pants with one hand as moans into your mouth

you whimper into his mouth as he grinds against you, stifled gasps escaping you every time the head of his cock catches against your clit

throwing his pants off to the side, he parts from you, leaning his forehead against yours, “okay, i got you. i have you.”

slowly, he pushes in, and your hands fly up from the bedsheets to dig your nails into his shoulders, a loud keen tearing from your lips

he doesn’t stop, slowly pushing into you, wincing as small tears leak from the sides of your eyes, and he kisses them with gentle lips until his hips press flush against yours

you pant heavily, still gasping for air, your pussy clenching around him tightly, as if trying to push him out

Kuai Liang resists a moan, instead breathing heavily, waiting for you to adjust, to calm down until you felt okay again

he wants patiently, pressing kisses to your face everywhere, murmuring that he had you, that he was here, that he loved you

slowly, surely, you start to relax, your breathing evening out, and you open up your teary eyes to stare into his

one hand moves from his shoulder to cup the back of his neck as you bring him in for another kiss, never being able to have enough of each other

his hips move slowly, barely thrusting into you, testing the waters, and when you only give a small weak moan, he pulls back a little further, thrusts a little harder

the pleasure is all-consuming, swallowing him from the inside out, burning him up until he was a bright star in the sky

your moans echo into his ears, bringing him high above, and how you squeeze around him as Kuai thrusting in faster and faster

it’s the wet slick sound of sex in the air, his hips rutting into yours unevenly, desperately, wanting to feel every bit of you

reaching his thumb down, he rubs it against your clit, feeling how you clench and tense around him, a high-pitched whine of his name flying into the air

“please, please,” he moans into your mouth, wanting to feel you cum on his cock, for you to cum with him, he needs it, needs you

you hum into his mouth, craving him just as much, and he groans into you as his hips stutter as you clench around him

he doesn’t stop thrusting into you, hips slow and sloppy as you both cum, and you pull back and rest your forehead against his, eyelids fluttering close as you try to calm your breath

Kuai Liang does the same, careful not to put all his weight into you as he moves your thighs from his shoulders down to wrap around his waist

neither of you make a move to clean up, too absorbed with each other, engulfed with each other’s warmth,each other’s love

“are you okay?” Kuai Liang breaks the silence first, opening his eyes to stare into yours, the peaceful look on your face, devoid of stress and tears

you hum an agreement, “mhm, just tired now”

“let me clean you up then.” Kuai Liang moves, but your fingernails firmly dig into his shoulder

“no, stay with me, just a few more minutes…please” it’s barely a whisper, voice hoarse and scratchy, weighed down by exhaustion

“...okay, just a few minutes.”

you both fall asleep in each other’s arms

[wcters]

𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗔 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗗𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗢𝗦𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗬

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: the relationship between matt and a girlfriend in cosmetology school

warnings/notes: established relationship, swearing, nudity innuendos?? they are naked together, kinda went off the cosmetology thing but it’s cute so whtv, a bit short but this is my first time doing preferences

- first . . . he’s totally spoiled

- like really spoiled

- you would practice at home, and then whatever you could on matt

- manicure: hand massages, cuticle cutting, nail painting, hair washing: head massages, shampoo and conditioning his hair

- he would let you practice shaving his beard but it would take awhile for him to let you

- not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he was going through a beard phase

- matt would loveeee the head massages and would get you to do them all the time

- eventually it becomes second nature and so you’ll be cuddling on the couch or outside sitting down with him between your legs and your hand will just find it’s way into his hair

- and you have fake nails so you know it feels reallyyy good

- waxing . . . but he would not admit that he lets you do it

- you ALWAYS smell good

- your shampoo and conditioner, perfume, skin/body care

- nick always asks you what you use for your skin

- sleepovers with nick where you do skincare, face masks, nail painting

- and chris begs to join until nick says yes

- matt always finds you three on nick’s bed watching a movie

- you had been obsessed with makeup your whole life

- def the designated hair braider on your sports team

- BATHS TOGETHER

- bubble bath, candles, you talking about your day and drama and he’ll be listening

- he’s just happy to be there

- studying at his house while you’re watching a movie together or if he’s busy with the podcast

- chris coming up to you and randomly asking you a question about what you’re doing when you’re studying

- “why do you push your cuticles back?” “how do perms work? like how do you do them?”

- it makes you smile because he’s genuinely interested

- will show him some things if you can

- you’re super sweet

- everyone likes you

- you’re a girls girl

- someone needs a pad/tampon? you got it. someone doesn’t want to go somewhere alone? they aren’t because you’re coming with

- you don’t gatekeep skincare or makeup

- always have lip balm on you

- you and matt go to the gym together

- always have a matching top and pants for your workout outfit

- matt just can’t believe you’re his 🤍

- like he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars

- i want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck vibes

- you literally have a necklace with his initial, you walked it with it on and his eyes popped out of his head

- totally share jewelry

- you steal his sweaters, shirts, shorts, boxers, basically anything you can get your hands on

- give matt face massages

- he be lookin’ flawless

- pays for you even though you decline because he knows how much money you use for school stuff

- that shit is expensiveeee

- nick asked you first to help him dye his hair red

- ofc you said yes! he’s your bestie

- played ariana, doja cat, clairo, stuff like that

- #danceparty

- your stuff sort of pops up around the house

- chris will find like a bobbypin or a hair tie on the floor

- smells like you because you bought candles for them that you loved

- thrifting and going to flea markets and getting stuff for your apartment like vases, cups to hold jewelry, etc

- your hair is amazing. everyone’s jealous. i’m jealous.

- no split ends, doesn’t get greasy until at least 5-6 days after you wash it, perfect for styling. also sleep with a bonnet because that does wonders for you

- lashes are amazing as well. it’s because you get them done while at school 😉😉😉

- you drive nick and chris around if matt’s not there or busy

- they literally love you

- think you’re perfect for your brother

- so nice, so sweet, literal angel

- you’ve been on the podcast

- made a tiktok account after matt suggested you do

- blew up. and it’s partly because you don’t gatekeep

- you’re so relatable too, being completely honest about how you feel . . . and are so funny

- “hot take . . . men should shave their armpits. like how do you put deodorant on?” “you ever too lazy to wash your face so all it is is a makeup wipe and a rinse with water? me too.”

- will trim matt’s hair if be wants just a trim

- you first said no, didn’t want to mess up, but he believed in you 🤭🤭

- your biggest supporter

- they would totally be there when you graduate

- cheering loudly when you walk along the stage

- like the pricilla movie scene but with no creepy old men

- you love that movie, hate elvis, but love pricillia

- you sometimes cook for them so they don’t eat out all the time

- you’re a good cook 👩‍🍳

- force them to have some form of vegetables

- his parents love you

- go fishing with jimmy and the boys the one time they do (sorry jimmy but it’s true)

- fans will ask for pictures when you visit matt on tour

- who’s the triplets? they’re here for you

- matt is so proud of you

- if you ever need him to pick you up he’ll bring you food or starbucks so you have energy when you’re done

- is at your beck and call

- ask him to jump off a cliff? he’ll hesitate a bit but will ultimately do it

[zapreportsblog]

❝army of ivarrsons❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings

✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”

✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.

"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"

Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."

Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.

Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."

Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.

She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."

The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.

Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.

And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.

The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.

Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.

As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.

Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.

"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."

The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."

The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."

Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"

(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.

Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."

The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.

Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."

The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."

(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."

The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.

Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."

Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.

Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.

The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."

Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."

Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"

While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).

It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.

Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.

Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.

Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.

The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.

As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.

The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.

As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.

Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.

But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.

Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).

Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.

The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.

[hanmaitani]

First Impressions are Deceiving

PAIRING - Scummy! Fushiguro Toji, Gojo Satoru, Kamo Choso, & Nanami Kento x Reader WC - 4.7K GENRE - smut CW - HEAVY DUBCON, college au, reader called 'princess', drinking, drugging, semi-public, gangbang, hair pulling, finger sucking, no prep, unprotected sex, riding, oral (m!receiving), dp, anal, dacryphilia, choking, creampie. SYNOPSIS - you like to think you're good at knowing who you can and can't trust, but a halloween party that your friend drags you to might show you that you're more naive than you thought...

You hate parties. Especially frat parties. But your best friend loved them. She had begged you “just this once” to come with her to the Halloween party of the biggest fraternity on campus. Literally begged you. On her knees.

Your costume was haphazardly put together. A bustier, royal blue with black lace, flimsy ribbon keeping it together down the back. It pushed your breasts up, giving your more cleavage than you usually would have, bits of it spilling over the top. A short tube skirt, soft yellow, ending just below the tops of your thighs with a zipper running the length down the front. Just below the bottom of your skirt, your socks started-black stockings that clung to your legs, all the way down to your uncomfortably high black heels. There was a bright red ribbon in your hair, haphazardly tied as a headband and matching the color of your lipstick.

Your friend, for wanting you here so badly, had disappeared almost immediately into the crowd, leaving you alone in an unfamiliar frat house, in a crowd that was vastly different from what you were used to. You sighed slightly, sipping on your drink as you leaned against the wall, watching the crowd. It wasn’t alcohol in your cup, you weren’t brave enough to drink when you’d lost your friend, instead sipping on a virgin version of your favorite mixed drink.

“You look like you’re having a fun time.” The low and steady voice was heard before you noticed the body leaning against the wall beside you. You turned your head to take him in, he wasn’t looking at you, instead watching the crowd you had just been watching. It somehow put you at ease.

He was wearing a black button up shirt tucked into a set of brown pants, a matching brown jacket hung on his shoulders. He had a cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, blonde hair peeking out the sides as he adjusted his tie.

“Parties aren’t quite my thing, Mr…”

He chuckled, turning towards you then, flicking a small metal star pinned to his jacket lapel. “It’s sheriff, actually.” You giggled slightly and put your hand over your chest in apology. “Sheriff Nanami.”

“Sorry, Sheriff Nanami.” You smiled and stuck your hand out for him to shake. “I’m-”

“Princess Snow White, right?”

You chuckled, glancing down quickly at your outfit sheepishly. “Yeah, great guess actually.” You chuckled, giving him an awkward smile as you sipped on your drink.

He hummed softly in response. You weren’t sure what it was about him, he seemed to emanate seriousness, steadiness. Him towering next to you made you feel almost protected. “What are you drinking?” He peeked down at your cup and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when he looked back at your face. “Juice? At a party?”

“It-well it isn’t like that.” You giggled nervously as he raised his eyebrows expectantly for you to go on. “I came with my friend, but she seems to have disappeared on me. Don’t really know anyone else here.”

“Well you know me now.” You nodded along, completely enraptured by his aura. “You can stick with me until she comes back, I’ll protect you.” He shot you a smile and you were sure you felt every fiber in your being melt in spot.

“I mean, if you insist.” You chuckled and tried to keep him from seeing your obviously flustered face.

“You can come chill with me and my brothers, I’ll get you a drink.” You went to protest but he cut you off before you could. “If you’re stuck here, might as well have some fun yourself, right?” You smiled and nodded. Nanami’s hand fell to your lower back, guiding you gently from the wall and closer to him, moving the two of you towards the crowd.

“Wait-” you looked up at him as you continued to follow his lead, words processing in your brain, “brothers?” You asked, head tilting in confusion.

“Yeah,” he huffed a laugh from his nose as you two reached a small archway that led to a much less populated area, “this is my frat’s house.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Oh! Sorry you just didn’t strike me as a frat guy.”

“I get that a lot.” He pushed on a cracked door and nodded his head for you to come in. You paused for a second, nervous to enter the new room, there was loud music coming from inside, different than the beat from the room you’d just left and you were sure you could smell some smoke. “I said I’d protect you, right?”

Something inside of you softened and the slight hesitation faded as quickly as it had come. “Right.” You smiled as you ducked inside the room.

“Heyyyy, you brought a new friend!” The first thing you see when you enter the room is a pair of strikingly clear blue eyes directly in your vision. You stumble back for a moment, only to run into Nanami’s solid chest. You look up to him to see him glaring at the man behind the eyes.

Feeling much safer against Nanami, you have a moment to fully take in the man who had startled you. He’s lanky, incredibly so, as he stands to his full height, taller than even Nanami. His white hair is coated in what you assume is the colored hair spray that you can find on every shelf in town this time of year, pink on one side and blue on the other. The white baseball tee that’s been crudely cropped with scissors clues you into exactly when his costume is. It reads “Daddy’s Lil Monster”. Your vision trails slightly down, to the space between the edge of the shirt and the buckle on his dangerously low jeans, the hard lines of his abs on full display, white hairs trailing down to his-

Your eyes snap back up to his mouth as he loudly pops his gum. A smirk has settled on his lips as he looks at you and you know you’ve been caught.

“Brought us a princess, did ya?” Your head snaps to another man in the room. He’s lazily spread on one of the chairs, legs open wide like he’s asking someone to come stand between them. His legs are clad in loose blue pants, rolled up at the cuffs to expose the laces of the black boots he wore. His top half was covered in a loose white top, too low of a v on the neck that clearly exposed his pec muscles underneath. A red sash cinched around his waist and seemed to only accentuate how big he was. The bottom half of his face was covered by his drink, the only thing visible for you being his green eyes and the shaggy black hair from under which he peered at you. When he spoke again your eyes immediately found the scar at his lips and watched it stretch as he talked. “I think I’m the prince you’re looking for.”

A scoff from the last body in the room drew your attention. He was so quiet there that you’d hardly noticed him. “Wrong fucking princess, pea brain.” He spoke in a bored tone, his brown hair was tied into two sloppy buns on the top of his head and he had a strange looking tattoo across the bridge of his nose, although you thought it seemed to suit him well. You caught a glimpse of his sharpened canines as he spoke, watching as they slightly caught on his lip. He was mostly in plain clothes, although he was sipping a drink from a straw stuck in a fake blood bag. You assumed he wanted to be here as much as you did, attempting to play the part of vampire with minimal effort.

“Don’t worry ‘bout them, all bark no bite, princess.” Nanami glared at the two louder boys as he guided you, hand on the small of your back, to the couch where the quieter boy sat. Said quiet boy, gave you a small nod in greeting but didn’t choose to say anything further. “That’s Gojo,” Nanami gestured to the Harley Quinn dress up to which the lanky boy responded with a dramatic twirl and bow, “Toji,” a small point to who you assumed (as he said he was a prince) to be Prince Eric who only drank more of his cup as he stared at you. The stare from Toji made you want to cling closer to Toji, nervously fiddling with your skirt. “This is Choso.”

“Hi.” Your voice sounded small in the room as you found yourself sitting between Nanami and Choso on the couch. Nanami seemed to trust Choso the most and from his quieter nature you were inclined to agree with the sentiment.

“Let me get you a drink.” Nanami stood nearly as soon as he sat, as if remembering the purpose of bringing you into the room. You instinctually curled closer to Choso as Gojo fell onto the couch in place of Nanami, hand immediately falling to your thigh, thumb rubbing circles as he leaned closer to flirt.

“Go away.” Choso’s arm wrapped your waist easily, pulling you further into him as he snarled at Gojo. You blushed at the feeling, you hadn’t noticed just from looking at him, but feeling his arm now, Choso seemed to be just as strong as the rest of them. His muscles twitched around you and you swallowed down the nervousness as Gojo rolled his eyes and got up.

“Th-thank you.” You mumbled but Choso just grumbled and released his hold on you.

“Vodka and apple juice for the princess.” Nanami joked as he plopped back into his spot besides you.

You laughed at the drink but took it anyways. “Like Snow White and her poisoned apple?” You smiled at the irony as you went to sip on the straw he’d given you so you didn’t ruin your lipstick.

You missed the look that the boys shared around you as you narrowed in on your drink, feeling safe between Nanami and Choso. “Yeah, like Snow White and her poisoned apple.” Nanami chuckled back. You had no idea just how poisoned it was.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

You felt warm as you giggled again, a wave of dizziness hitting you out of nowhere. You clung to Nanami’s arm to keep yourself upright as you continued to laugh at something Gojo had said, not nearly as funny as you were currently finding it. Nanami sure knew how to mix his drinks strong, you weren’t even sure how many he’d fed to you at that point.

“You warm?” Choso’s question had you realizing that you’d been fanning yourself to cool down the heat on your skin.

“Oh.” Your voice sounded more surprised than you felt and there was a hint of embarrassment crawling across your cheeks. “Yeah, a bit.”

“Let me help.” You watched with wide eyes as Choso untied the ribbon acting as your headband and pressed it between his teeth. Your attention was held by how the silk of the red ribbon dimpled around the fangs in his mouth. His hands brushed the back of your neck and it seemed to light your nerves on fire, sending a shockwave of goosebumps across your body. You shivered when he held your makeshift ponytail in place with one hand, the other pulling the ribbon from between his teeth. You watched hazily as his tongue swiped over his bottom lip before you realized he was speaking. “Better?”

Your hands came up blindly to touch the ponytail he’d made for you, held up by your former headband. You nodded quietly, wide eyes still looking up at him, held by the smirk on his lips. “Ye-yeah, thank you.”

“No, thank you, your neck is pretty, should show it off.” You watched his tongue run over his fangs as his thumbnails scraped lightly along your jugular.

“Trying too hard to live up to the vampire costume, Choso.” Toji joked from across the room, his gaze on you had gotten heavier, leering more obviously now.

“Can’t help it.” Choso’s eyes flicked up to your own, smiling at how blown out they were, and the fact that you had no idea. “Something about having a pretty girl’s vulnerable little neck between my teeth really gets me going.”

You gasped when you felt Choso’s teeth graze against the spot where his thumb just was. You were quick to jump off the couch, suddenly feeling nervous. Your feet fumbled under you, tripping over Nanami’s in your scramble to get away from Choso. A pair of arms caught you as you stumbled, holding you upright.

“Hey, hey, relax. What’s got you all worked up?” Gojo’s arms caged you against him and even though you struggled, it was in vain. It was like your strength had been drained from you, your arms feebly trying to push his from your body.

“Ge-get off me.” You shrieked slightly before your gaze landed on Nanami. He was still reclined on the couch, sipping on his cup as he watched you. “Na-Nanami?” Your voice begged for him, asking for help. But he didn’t move, just watched.

“Oh, princess.” Toji’s voice was condescending as he came into view next, his head appearing next to Gojo’s above you. “Weren’t you taught not to take apples from strangers?” He chuckled as he and Gojo spun you in a circle, throwing you even more off balance.

Fear struck you through the heart when you fell to your knees in front of Nanami. You shook as he peered down at your body between his knees, your wobbly lips looking up at him. “They might truly be poisoned, you know.” Nanami’s chuckle seemed darker than it was before, the comforting protectiveness that he had previously radiated was gone and you seemed to fear him just as much as the rest now.

“Bu-but.” You whimpered as your eyes jumped from one figure to the other. You were suddenly aware of the blur to your vision. You were sure that you hadn’t had enough alcohol to affect your movement and vision as much as it was being affected. Even your thoughts seemed to move sluggishly. And the heat that you’d thought Choso had been helping to relieve you from, wasn’t on your skin like you’d thought, but rather crawling under it, burning into your veins and forcing your breathing to get heavier. Air that only fanned the fire.

“Bu-but.” Nanami mocked as he leaned forward. The rim of his hat brushed against your forehead and the glint of his sheriff’s badge only seemed to mock you now. The protection he’d given you now falling away like the facade that it truly had been. “God they’re always so cute when they realize.”

Al-always? They?

It dawned on you slowly that you’d fallen straight into their perfectly practiced trap.

“Come onnn, Nanamin.” Gojo whined from behind you, pouting at the blond man in front of you. Gojo’s hands brushed against your bare shoulders and before you could jerk away from them, they were slapped away.

“You know the rules,” Toji chastised his dramatic frat brother, “he caught her which means he gets her first.”

“Well he can hurry up is all I’m saying.” Gojo huffed and glared at Nanami. Nanami didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he seemed amused as the weight of your situation seemed to settle into your bones.

You scramble then, a split second decision, rushing to try and squeeze between the two men behind you. You barely catch a glimpse of freedom through the crack in the door but it isn’t close enough.

A large hand wraps around the ponytail that Choso had just made for you, a harsh pull that has tears immediately falling from your eyes and you scrambling to follow its lead, desperate to relieve the tension it places on your scalp. You sob as you’re pulled high on your knees in front of Nanami and then higher up, him easily pulling you into his lap by the grip.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” The rough pad of his finger brushed against the apple of your cheek, wiping your tears as you sniffle on his lap. “You wanted to come back here with me.” You shook your head then, frantically trying to deny it. Not like this. Not like this. “I said I’d protect you right? Promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Wa-wait.” Your hands’ attempts to untangle yourself from him proved to be futile as Nanami unbuckled the belt on his pants. “Ple-please wa-” Nanami’s finger’s entered your mouth with no warning, forcing you to gag on them, your saliva flooding your mouth and coating them.

“Thanks princess.” He laughed when you gasped for air as his fingers left your mouth, and you missed the way they dropped between the two of you to coat himself in your saliva, slicking up his cock. “You’re gonna wanna take a deep breath.” He mumbled as his fingers brushed against your core. Even though you bucked away, his grip was too strong, lifting your hips just enough to line his cock up with your little hole as he held your panties to the side.

The scream forced out of your lungs as he dropped you, in one fluid motion, on his cock ricocheted off the walls and there was soon a hand clasped over your mouth. Toji’s hand, to be exact. He jerked your head back so you were forced to look up at him, as he watched your eyes widen in pain.

“Oh fuck she’s so tight.” Nanami groaned, both his hands on your hips as your hands pressed against his abs through his shirt. Your eyes crossed when he dragged your body up, the feeling of his cock moving when you weren’t yet ready had you crying into Toji’s palm. “Think you’re tighter when you cry.” Nanami plummeted your body back down and your scream couldn’t be muffled this time.

Your mind spun, your vision blurry as he bounced you on him like a mere doll. “Look at the cute princess losing her mind.” Gojo’s voice barely reached your ears as your mind was consumed with the way Nanami’s cock split you open over and over, stroking the fire in your gut.

Toji’s hand left your mouth and even though you tried to scream the only thing that came out was a wanton moan. They flooded out of you now, whines and moans, high pitched hiccups in your voice as Nanami’s thrusts got faster. Your hips ached already, at the way his slammed into yours.

“So noisy.” Choso chided you, hand tugging on your ponytail to turn your upper body to him. “Quiet down.” He forced your body to twist unnaturally towards him and fold you forward. You squeaked at the new angle Nanami’s cock was being forced into you at, your jaw dropping as you gasped. Choso was quick to push his cock into the open space you’d accidentally created for him. The sound of your gagging sent Choso groaning, his head tipping back at the feeling. You could feel Choso’s hand on the back of your neck, the cold of his rings soothing the heat under your skin. Your head moved on its own volition now, barely needing the guidance of Choso as you moved. “There you go princess.”

Your body shuddered and shook, your core tightening around Nanami as he continued his antics. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, too many hands on your body overwhelming your senses. Two hands were grabbing one of your wrists, pulling your hand to wrap around the final two cocks. Your eyes flickered over to where Toji and Gojo had your one hand wrapped around both of them at once, dragging your fist-small in comparison to theirs-up and down their cocks.

You gasped as your body was pulled from the couch. Lifting you unceremoniously off of Nanami’s cock first. Your cunt clenched around its emptiness. Your tongue still connected to Choso’s cock with your own spit, lips trying to chase after him as you whined. There was a small ring of red around the base of Choso’s cock, partially obscured by his pubes, the remnants of your lipstick.

“Fuck, I was just about to cum.” Nanami groaned in irritation as your body was separated.

“You got all night, shut up.” Toji growled, pulling your body onto his where he laid back onto the carpet. Your voice shook as he filled you up just as fast as Nanami had, your body screaming at the extra stretch. “Fuck, thought you’d stretched her out.” Toji snidely remarked towards Nanami with a smirk. “Oh fuuuuuuuck.” Toji groaned under you, his fingers easily snaking between your bodies in search of your clit.

He kept your hips pinned to him, his cock filling you to the brim as his fingers unrelentingly press to your clit. Your back arches and you can hear Gojo’s voice in your ear from behind you, coaxing you to fall over the edge. Your body was still shaking when your senses started to come back, you r cunt clenching around Toji. Your upper body fell onto his as your muscles relaxed.

“Yeah, just relax princess.” Gojo’s laugh echoed in your ear. You could hear him spit, feeling the liquid hit your lower back you whined when it started to slide. Your body jerked when Gojo’s thumb spread the spit lower, swiping diligently over your empty hole. Your eyes widened and your hips tried to move away, but you were pinned in place by Toji’s hands. “Relax, it won’t hurt for long.” Gojo chuckled lowly in your ear as his thumb pressed inside of you easily. Choso’s fingers were quick to slip inside your mouth, keeping you from protesting as Gojo pressed in his other thumb and captivating your attention.

“Breathe.” Choso mumbled, his lips coming to your ear then. You could feel his fingers massaging your tongue, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your neck. Choso’s teeth buried themself in your skin at the base of your neck where it met your collarbone, the pain blossoming out from the spot at the same moment that Gojo easily replaced his fingers with his cock, plunging into you without warning. The scream that came from your body was muffled by Choso’s fingers but hurt your throat just the same. “Hey princess, see it’s not so bad.” Choso withdrew his fingers, wanting to hear your sobs wrack your frame.

His saliva covered fingers smeared around your lips as you looked up at him, bleary eyes finding his. He was focused on smearing your lipstick more, smirking at the mess he’d made of your mouth. He was also becoming fond of the teeth marks he’d left on your neck and wanted to leave more.

“Aw she’s cryin’.” Gojo chuckled, hand wrapping around your throat from behind as he jerked your head up to get a better look. “You had pretty makeup on, it’s all ruined now.” He pouted at you and it only seemed to spur the tears on more. He smirked at the sight, his tongue flicking out to trail up the line left by your tears. Your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment as you tried to focus on something else. Anything but the way Gojo and Toji seemed to split you apart, not even moving yet, and the way your body probably looked wrecked.

“This is in the way.” Toji’s voice under you barely registered before you could hear the tearing of fabric and the cold air against your torso. You whimpered when your eyes opened to see your bustier top being dropped next to the torn remnants of your panties, you didn’t even know when they’d done that. Every sense was blurring into the next one. Your skirt was still bunched around your waist and your thigh highs had started to slip, resembling closer to knee highs.

“You want them to move?” Nanami’s hand took hold of your jaw, jerking your face to look at him. The motion had Gojo’s hand on your throat tightening and you choked slightly at the motion. As much as you were afraid, you were sure them not moving was worse. Your head nodded before you gave it consent to. “Beg them for it then, they’ve got egos they need stroked.”

Your breath shook as you tried, your voice coming out as a small squeak at first. “Please.” You whimpered when Gojo’s grip tightened and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would lessen the burn that was etching across your cheeks. “Please move, go-god you’re so big. Feel too full. Please.” You whimpered at the words that fell from your mouth like honey but it seemed to be enough for them.

“Jeez baby, just had to ask.” Toji chuckled from beneath you. You barely had time to feel Toji lift your hips slightly before both men began to move. Your mouth fell open in a moan, broken and pitiful as they picked up a rhythm in time with another. Practiced. Like they’d done it many times before. If you could think properly you’d realize that they had. But you were too far gone for that.

The pain that had existed was being pressed away with every thrust they delivered into you. The drag of their cocks against your walls, against each other through your barriers had you seeing stars. The drugs and alcohol in your system worked in tandem with the stimulation, slurring your words and your thoughts as you babbled, head hanging as you choked yourself on Gojo’s hand more.

“Give me this.” Nanami grabbed one of your wrists from where it laid on top of Toji’s chest, attempting to hold yourself up and yanked it higher, above your head. “Come on, earn something.” You whined but let Nanami wrap your hand around his cock and followed his lead as best you could to stroke up and down. Your movements were sloppy but grew more enthusiastic when you heard the symphony of moans from the men around you.

“What does the princess want?” Choso asked, catching your eyes again as he thumbed at your lip again. He smiled at the far off look in your eye, his favorite one that girls got. You couldn’t get your tongue to properly form a word as Gojo and Toji fucked you into the high heavens. Instead, you wrapped your lips around Choso’s thumb dutifully, and batted your starry eyes at him. “Well if the princess demands it.” He chuckled as he stood up, turning your head to him. He patted at your cheek lightly and you obediently let your jaw drop and your tongue fall out. “Isn’t it so much easier when you relax?”

You kept Choso in your blurry vision the best you could as he pressed his cock against your tongue again, sliding it easily inside your mouth. You didn’t even notice when he swatted Gojo’s hand away from your throat so he could better fuck into it. Your eyes leaked more tears and your body was only being held up by the multiple pairs of hands. You were sure your vision was going out but you couldn’t be positive.

“Fu-fuck!” Gojo’s broken moan reached your ears and the foreign feeling of his cum shooting into you sent the feeling straight up your spine. Your eyes rolled and you were cumming, cunt clamping down around Toji’s cock as Gojo pulled out of you.

“Hey what the fuck!” Toji’s growl was your only notice as you were pulled away from the cocks inside of you again, manhandled up off the floor and into Nanami’s arms. You didn’t have to whine about being empty for long. Nanami, with his arms hooked under your legs, was quick to sink his cock back into your cunt.

“You got all night to cum in her.” Nanami repeated Toji’s taunt back from earlier and you were oblivious to the scowl the latter currently had… or that it would be taken out on you.

“Careful with the little princess. Don’t want her to break before I get my fun.” Choso’s words felt like a threat in your ear. But your brain, having trouble sorting through the threats and comfort, latched onto it-whining as you leaned back into him. “Bet she chooses me to take her home after this.”

a/n happy halloween <3

TAGLIST -

@tsukiran @awkwardaardvarkforever @all-in-the-fandoms @mightyknight501

@qichun @megumuro @s0uldarling @seiri-ously @deepenthevoid

@winniethepooh-lover @stunies @little-miss-naill @hayatoseyepatch @theycallmenanamisgirl

@cl-0-vr @iluv-ace @rockrose-blossoms @afire24 @raven-nevra

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 21 -  Purple

Sherlock had returned to his room that night and laid in bed, reading his book. He lapped it up, cover to cover in record speed and then spent the rest of the night pondering John’s behaviour. His usual instincts told him that John was somewhat nervous around him lately. But he didn’t trust his instincts right now at all, because he knew he was personally invested in the outcome. He was most likely misreading things entirely. The book had been eye-opening. Perhaps dangerous, entertaining romantic fancies like that, though. It seemed to Sherlock that the themes in the story were about influence in decision making, how relationships between family members, and pressure to conform to expectations almost ruined the ingenue’s chance at love. It all seemed so very relevant to their situation. 

Things with John were very strange at the moment. When they were good, it was lovely and relaxed: laughter, conversation, friendship. All the things Sherlock enjoyed of their time together as flatmates, as friends. They worked well together. John was the only person he had ever felt that much ease with. He didn’t have to try or to put on an act with John. He could just be. And John didn’t mind. In fact it seemed to be the same for him. They were invaluable partners - in work and in life - to each other. And yet, there was definitely an unending sense of pressure around them - from friends, family,  media, clients, all destroying the little moments they shared. Sherlock could feel it - the electricity between them, sparkling with potential, ready to ignite a flame at any moment with the right conditions. And then one word, one snigger from someone and John disconnected all over again. Even here, he thought, hoped, that perhaps time away from London, from the familiar, from the watching eye of the media and his brother, John might be able to relax into their time together. It certainly seemed to be helping a little. It felt as if he was making small amounts of progress each day, to show John there was something here important enough to pay attention to. 

Having separate rooms at this hotel had actually been a blessing. It had allowed him time to really get his head clear, to think of a new plan of attack. Sherlock took his time getting ready. He may not quite know the right way in, with John. But what he did know about was experiments. Hypotheses. Perhaps testing the waters might be a gentle way to gauge what was going on here. He pulled out The Shirt. He remembered one other time wearing it and he was fairly sure John had seemed entirely distracted by it: his favourite, purple, well fitted shirt. He tucked it firmly into his best, most tailored black pants and jacket. He wanted to make a good impression on the client, but more importantly he wanted to make an impression on John. If this didn’t make things clearer, nothing would.

He walked down the stairs to the breakfast room. John would already be there. Always the early riser, needing breakfast, impatient to get to work. He would be halfway through breakfast by now, ready for Sherlock to waltz in, make an entrance, sip some tea and drift out again for their cab. It was their usual routine. But when Sherlock entered the breakfast room, John wasn’t there. He looked around, a little surprised. Maybe he had already eaten? He dialled John’s phone and a slightly flustered sounding friend answered.

"Sherlock."

“John?”

“Yeah hey, on my way down, sorry. A bit late today.” He sounded a little out of sorts.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll find us a table,” Sherlock offered calmly.

“Okay, thanks.” John hung up the phone.

Sherlock grabbed himself some pancakes. He might as well eat something, he supposed. And coffee. He was going to need strong coffee today. He had settled himself in, and had just brought his first mouthful up to meet his lips when John walked in and he froze. Long enough that the pancake slid right off his fork and back to the plate, surprising him. He looked down at his plate and then back up to the doorway of the breakfast room, mouth still gaping open.

John Watson walked in with more swagger than usual. He was wearing a suit. An actual suit. His good suit, in fact. Sherlock had only seen it once, in court when they had had to testify for a case. John didn’t own a lot of very well tailored clothes, but this suit was actually very nice. A dark blue, that matched the shade of his eyes. His shirt was crisp white and he wore a striped blue tie. He even had his good shoes on. He didn’t even wear those on first dates.

What was going on? Sherlock felt his mouth go dry. John had showered, shaved and created a bit of a swishy thing with his hair. Oh god, I’m in trouble. I was supposed to be messing with him.

John saw Sherlock and gave a little half wave, and the most winning smile. If he registered Sherlock’s outfit, he didn’t show it. Not yet, at least. He walked over and sat down opposite Sherlock. “Morning,” he said brightly.

“Morning,” Sherlock said, his voice a little raspy. He realised his empty fork was still paused in mid-air and he might look like an idiot, returning his fork quickly back down. “Sleep in?”

“I… had a restless night. Thought I’d sleep a bit late, so I could get ready and feel refreshed.” John seemed to blush slightly which intrigued Sherlock.

“Well you look…” Sherlock couldn’t find a word for it. As he paused, John’s face registered the hesitation and frowned slightly, looking down at his outfit. “You don’t normally wear a suit. It’s…”

“Is it too much?,” he rushed to ask. “I just thought, if we’re going to a posh house, and you always look so…” For the first time John gestured at Sherlock’s outfit and Sherlock saw it. The blush, and the look in John's eye, the one he got the last time Sherlock wore the shirt.

“No, it’s fine. It’s… good… you look... good,” Sherlock managed to spit out.

“Okay. I have other clothes if you think it’s…”

“No.” Sherlock said it a little too forcefully and then grabbed desperately at his coffee to cover the overreaction. “You look the part.”

“Well, okay.” He smiled. “I’m starving. I’ll be back. Those pancakes look really great,” he said, before disappearing to the buffet to grab some of his own.

Sherlock closed his eyes and said a little prayer to the universe. He never prayed, but lord, if he ended up a stuttering mess today just because John suddenly decided to be fashion conscious, he would be furious at himself. He needed to stay focussed. To stay calm. It was just a suit. Just a suit. He himself was wearing a suit. Yes, but you wore yours as a sexual strategy, he reminded himself and then thumped his fist on the table in annoyance at his own retort. Why was John wearing… that?

“Everything alright?” John asked as he sat back down, looking a little concerned at Sherlock’s tense posture. He took in Sherlock’s clenched fist on the table without a word and sat down, preparing to eat.

Sherlock merely gave him a weak smile and a nod.

“So, what’s the plan of attack, then?” John asked.

“We’ll travel out to the… ah… estate, speak to the lady of the house, and… then hopefully she will… let us interview… the staff and… the rest of the family.” Sherlock’s brain felt slow, annoyingly slow. Basic thought felt impossible. This was not a good start.

John nodded and looked up at Sherlock and his eyes were… god they were more beautiful against that suit jacket. But then, Sherlock was sure John was looking back at Sherlock like he was a meal too. They ate in silence, just sharing glances with each other along the way, discussing the case every so often. Within the hour they had polished off breakfast, packed up their belongings and checked out of the hotel. 

John stood on the curb outside the hotel in silence. He looked over at Sherlock, then at his luggage, then at Sherlock, a few times before he finally spoke. “I thought… perhaps with the… case…”

“What are you asking?” Sherlock spoke in irritation, trying to avoid looking at John. It was making things so much harder.

John rolled his eyes. “Well… so… we aren’t staying here… tonight?”

“No, if we need to, we will just stay on at the mansion,” Sherlock explained. "Obviously." “The mansion. I see.” John nodded quietly to himself.

“Problem?”

“Not at all.”

“If we solve it quickly enough we can simply head home tonight,” Sherlock suggested.

“Already?”

Sherlock smiled to himself and finally looked at John again. “Enjoying yourself?”

John’s eyes locked with his and then looked away. “Well… it’s been… I think… I don’t know… and maybe I’m… but… well it's only that...”

“John, you’ll find speaking in full sentences is more productive.”

John sighed. He closed his eyes. 

Was he doing that so he didn’t have to look at the shirt? Sherlock smirked. Was he struggling just as much? God, Sherlock hoped so. He wanted to be back on the upper foot. He needed to be on his game for this case.

“It’s just been… a nice change of pace. It will be a shame to go home so soon.” His eyes snapped over to Sherlock’s. Although I love it at home. At Baker Street,” he rushed to add. “It’s… comfortable there. But… it’s been…” He shook his head in frustration. “Never mind.”

Sherlock reached out and put a hand on his arm. He nodded. “I know,” he said. “I know what you mean.”

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things @daltongraham 

@sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn  

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter 

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me @sherlocke3d

@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[the-hinky-panda]

Out of the Woods Series: Part I

Title: Out of the Woods Series

Pairing: Mitch Keller x OFC Reader (Sadie Maxwell)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: An old friend of Mitch's is in need of some help and Dwight seems to be the guy to do it.

Dwight has passed by Trudy’s Diner multiple times but never stopped into the place. It sits on Route 66, about ten minutes east of the Mayo hotel. It looks like a tourist trap; the stereotypical fifties diner with neon signs, red vinyl booths, and black and white tiled floor. The waitresses’ uniforms are shirtwaist dresses and colored flats, like what his mother used to wear when he was a little kid in Brooklyn. It’s loud, bustling, and old-fashioned in a shiny way. Even though the waitresses are sporting bobs and high ponytails, they’re carrying tablets in the pockets of their full skirts. 

He follows Mitch to a corner booth where he and Tyson settle into place while Mitch asks for you. The perky blonde waitress says that you’ll be right out and breakfast is on the house for everyone. Now that he’s in the actual place, he has to admit the blending of old and new is quite seamless. There’s free wifi, which Tyson is happy about and the coffee smells strong and fresh, which he is happy about. Every surface is spit polished and all the uniforms are pristine. It’s the sign of a detailed business owner. 

When you arrive at the table, he’s not surprised at how young you look, or that your outfit is also classic fifties but with high waisted pants and tucked-in blouse. You’re pretty, professional but that’s not surprising. He is surprised at how Mitch looks at you, like you’ve hung the moon and stars. Now he knows why Mitch wants his help with your situation, whatever that may be. But you return the look as well. There’s a warmth in the way you greet Mitch, lingering touches and choosing to sit next to him in the booth. Old friends, sure. 

“I really appreciate you coming to meet me, Mr. Manfredi.” 

“Dwight, please.” He shakes your hand and it’s a firm, solid grip. Another good sign. “Mitch tells me you have an issue that you need some help with.” 

You fold your hands on top of the table. “It’s a multistep solution to a large problem but I’m not exactly sure which step you would be able to help with.” 

“Well, let’s go through those steps and find out where I may be able to help.” 

Plates of food arrive before you’re able to get into the nature of the problem. Eggs, hashbrowns, sausages, bacon, and something he’s never seen before. It looks like finely ground oatmeal but there’s a large pad of butter melting into it. 

“What is that?” he asks. 

“Those are grits,” you answer. 

Tyson is shaking his head. “My mama would be so disappointed in you right now.” 

“I think we’re all a little disappointed right now,” Mitch adds. 

“Well excuse me for being out of circulation when it comes to fine dining.” 

You put a healthy spoonful of them on his plate and hand him the salt. “It’s ground up corn, so very good with salt and butter.” 

“What are you trying to do,” Mitch nudges you, “give him a heart attack?” 

“Oh what,” you counter, “like you’re running a health spa over at the Buck?” 

“You keep this up, he’s not going to help you.” Mitch gives you a crooked smile. “Your ornery is showing.” 

You give Dwight an apologetic look but he raises his hand. “I actually quite enjoy this kind of ornery. Makes me feel like I’m back home, sitting around the kitchen table with my family.” He’s quiet for a moment, remembering those times with his mother and father speaking rapid fire Italian, thinking he and his siblings couldn’t understand what was being said. His brother poking his sister under the table with a fork and Dwight doing the same thing to him but with a knife. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good time at a dining table.” 

Your problem is precisely as you explained it: it’s large but with a multi-step process. The problem is your husband of almost ten years won’t sign the divorce papers. You’ve been living in your own one-bedroom apartment, running the diner, earning your own money. You are, for all intents and purposes, independent from him. The catch happens to be who he is, or rather who his father is. Your father-in-law is filthy rich, first in oil and then in the medical marajana business. Your husband has been put in charge of two dispensaries but because of his own drug, gambling, and frequent need for out call massages, the business isn’t doing well. Your diner, a business that doesn’t remotely interest Cal Thresher Senior or Junior, is making twice what both pot stores are making. 

Dwight leans back against the booth. “So you want a divorce from this jack-off and he’s not giving it to you because you’re worth more than him.” 

“And daddy is pulling the strings,” you add. “And by strings, I mean he has the best lawyers in the midwest working for him. So even if I do get Junior to sign the divorce settlement, I’m going to be left with nothing.” 

“Not to be unkind but it sounds like nothing would be something if it gets you out of the marriage.” 

Mitch picks up his coffee cup. “That brings us to why you’re gonna want to help her.” 

You sigh and glance around to make sure no one is listening in on the conversation. “My father has a business and he’s struggling to keep the doors open. I’ve been helping when I can but my finances get monitored too closely for me to do much. He was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago and the medical bills are killing him just as fast as the cancer. I want the divorce, but I want to leave with enough money to save his business.” 

“And I’m supposed to care about his business, why?” Dwight asks. 

You give him a slight smile. “It’s a gun shop.” 

[phoenixyfriend]

Shadow and Mirror

Read on AO3, written for this prompt

Cody has a new crush.

Well, a “crush” implies something much more childish than the point he’s reached in his life.

Cody has… felt a connection and really hit it off with someone he finds reasonably attractive.

His brothers are being less than supportive.

“He is my Jedi and one of my best friends,” Rex says, “but I just… for both your sakes, life will be so much easier if you don’t go for it.”

Cody is unfazed. “You do remember he was my Jedi Commander before he got promoted and took you with him, right? I know what he’s like, and I’m into it.”

Rex makes a face. “Uh, all due respect, Cody—”

Oh, this bitch.

“—but he’s changed in some pretty big ways since he split from Kenobi.”

“So’ve I.”

This earns him an eyeroll. “Yes, yes, you’ve discovered your romantic charisma and started charming the pants off of any sentient you encounter on leave. You do realize that’s part of the problem?”

“That I have game?”

“Skywalker doesn’t do casual,” Rex insists. “Open, maybe, if you talk about it, but he doesn’t do casual.”

After a moment of consideration, Cody shrugs. “I can work with that.”

“Can you?” Rex challenges. “Can you really deal with the full force of Anakin’s attention? With him losing his entire mind if you get hurt, and calling you up at three in the morning to chat, and promising you the galaxy in a bunch of flowery words that should be hyperbole, but really, really worryingly sounds literal and sincere?”

“…did you try dating him?”

“No, but I was there basically every time he hung with Amidala, and that shit continued past the point where he gave up on romantic seduction and settled into friendship,” Rex says, more of a grumpy complaint than anything, “and she’s just as weird as he is when it comes to all that, so it’s no skin off her back to match his energy, but you are not on their level.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying,” Rex grits out from between clenched teeth, “that you like to have fun, and Anakin likes to dedicate every morsel of crazy knocking around his brain to whichever poor soul ended up in his affections.”

“I feel like insulting your CO that much is grounds for a court martial.”

“Echo told him, to his face, that he occasionally seemed crazy as a bag of tooka kits and about as hinged as a sliding door. General Skywalker took a second to process, and then laughed. He doesn’t care, not if it’s from a friend.”

Cody hums. “Which you are.”

“Yes.”

“Enough to warn me away before I break his heart?” Cody asks. Rex looks away, and Cody can only chuckle. “You’re not that subtle, Rex.”

“I’m trying to make sure you do what’s best for both of you,” Rex insists, glancing at Cody for only a moment before breaking eye contact again, “so Anakin doesn’t get disappointed, and so you’re not walking in blind when it comes to him being… the most.”

Cody snorts. “I can handle Skywalker, Rex. I may not be a Jedi or a Senator, but I can handle one brat with a smart mouth, a bad attitude, and a couple of super-powers.”

Rex grimaces. “I mean… it’s not really… that simple. The Force stuff, I mean.”

There’s something a little odd to Rex’s voice with that one, more than just the weird pauses. Cody doesn’t dismiss it quite as easily as he might have. Instead, he carefully asks, “the whole ‘Chosen’ thing some of the Shinies were gossiping about? Kenobi said it was an old superstition more than anything, a metaphor taken too literally, and that even the Jedi argue about it.”

“When?”

Cody’s expression must speak for him, because Rex clarifies without prompting.

“When did Kenobi say that?”

Cody looks past him at the wall, frowning as he thinks. Rex waits, and doesn’t take it too personally; they know each other too well for that. Finally, Cody shrugs. “A couple months in. Skywalker was still a Jedi Commander with the 212th.”

“So, before Mortis.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “This has to do with that shitshow?”

Rex looks uncomfortable. “You… aren’t 501st.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Well… Kenobi didn’t get possessed. Or channel a god. He just used an extra weird lightsaber for a bit.”

Cody gives it a few moments, and then finally says, “Rex.”

His brother continues to look uncomfortable.

“What did that place do to Skywalker and Tano?”

(Continue on AO3)

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 6

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,800 Warnings: Angst, fluff, and some supernatural shenanigans.

Part 6: Trust Building

After you showered and dressed in a clean shirt and yoga pants, you felt refreshed but still somewhat anxious. You don’t have anything to be nervous about, you tried to remind yourself.

You finally met him. His name is Dean. He seems…nice.

A soft smile grew on your face when you thought of how he’d looked over your injuries in concern. How he’d seemed just as nervous as you, but was familiar in his teasing and gentle when he’d helped you up the stairs.

He seemed to be a decent guy. But so had Danny Schmitt.

That thought made you shudder. Those horrific memories of last night tried to surface, but you stubbornly shoved them down by covering your eyes with your hands and letting out a few deep breaths.

When you’d calmed down, you released your trembling hands. That’s it, you decided. You were going downstairs. You were going to go crazy if you stayed up here in this room.

…Plus, you were getting hungry.

Things were probably going to get awkward fast, but you were up for it. You didn’t want to be rude to your uncle, and you wanted to get know Dean and his brother Sam.

So you carefully descended the stairs, trying not to freeze in place when all three men paused in their conversation to look at you. You gave a little wave.

“How’re you feelin’?” Bobby asked.

“I’m okay.” You joined Sam and Dean on the couch once they made room for you. Bobby sat in a rickety chair across from them, with a coffee table full of old, open books in between. What kind of book club were these guys having?

You shared a small smile with Dean, who seemed to take a brief moment to look you over. You noticed his gaze lingered on your yoga pants. But smoothly his eyes returned to your face. He inhaled and looked curious.

“What’s that, apples?” he asked. You blinked in confusion, until you realized what he meant: your body wash. To be fair, it did have a strong smell.

“Oh, apple spice.” You nodded. “Good guess!”

Dean grinned a little. “It’s nice.”

Sitting on his other side, Sam rested an elbow on the couch’s arm. He hid a smile behind his hand, while Bobby just rolled his eyes.

“All right, well dinner’s on the way,” your uncle said. “Hope you like Chinese.”

You were just about to reply affirmatively when your phone buzzed on the coffee table. With a quick glance, you saw who it was and frowned. Dad.

“That’s been going off non-stop for the past ten minutes,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” you sighed, and went to pick up the phone. “Hi, Dad.”

You felt guilty about taking off from Jody’s house without telling anyone, but in fairness, you’d left her a note. Your dad was stern and quick to reproach you.

“You can’t just take off like that. You had me looking over the whole damn town for you!” said Jack.

Your lips pressed together. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going, but now you know where I am. I’m safe.”

Jack started to interject, but you cut in before he could start giving you orders.

“Tell Jody I’m sorry, but I’m comfortable here,” you said, glancing up at Bobby, and then at Sam and Dean.

“…Fine. The house should be back to normal in a couple of days. If you leave Bobby’s house for any reason, you call me,” Jack said.

Like you were a child.

“Fine,” you snapped and hung up the phone. Then you looked up at the men, who all looked away as if they hadn’t been listening.

“Sorry,” you added. “My dad’s a bit…overprotective.”

“I mean…can you really blame him right now?” Dean asked. “I get it, you ditched your babysitter. But not for nothing, I’d probably react the same way.”

His face was more serious, devoid of the flirtatious teasing from before. Your hackles started to rise as he took your dad’s side…until you realized that he meant well. Through the connection that bonded your soul with his, what you felt most was his concern for you. 

And, he might actually have a point.

You just weren’t willing to acknowledge that just yet.

You tried to get to know Sam more too. You learned that he’d gone to college at Stanford for pre-law, and that he’d planned to be a lawyer. When you asked why he didn’t go for it, he and Dean got quiet.

That’s when the takeout finally came. You sensed it was a sensitive topic, so you didn’t push it.

The four of you ate while Sam and Dean traded off telling childhood stories and motel room antics, most of which made you laugh.

But you became sad when you realized what Dean had told you once was true: he and Sam had been raised on the open road. They hadn’t truly had a home since Dean was five years old, and Sam had been just an infant, after their mother died.

“The house burned down,” Dean explained, but you had a feeling there was more to the story. You sensed it in his guarded emotions—both in his body language and through your bond.

“Nice ring,” he remarked, noting the flash of silver on your right hand. You gave him a closer look and he took the opportunity to take your hand. You tried (and failed) not to blush.

“My mom’s,” you said, your eyes lowering. “She…died when I was around fourteen.”

Dean sighed and released your hand. “I’m sorry.”

You knew he understood how you felt. He’d lost his mom too.

“What about your dad?” you asked.

Sam and Dean shared a brief glance before Dean replied. “He’s still around. He started the family business, so he travels a lot too.”

“I see.” You were very curious to meet their dad. If he was anything like Dean, then that man was sure to be interesting.

After a while more of eating and talking, Bobby wished you goodnight and went up to his room. Sam returned to the living room to set up his sleeping spot on the recliner, leaving you and Dean to clear the dining table and wash the dishes together.

“So your dad’s a cop, huh?” Dean asked.

You nodded. “Yep. Hence the overprotective bit.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell him about our…” Here Dean raised his brows. “Situation?”

You smiled in amusement. “Honestly, yeah. It just…didn’t feel like the right time to tell him about us. When you meet him, you’ll understand.”

“I get it. My dad’s not always a picnic either, but he’s a good man,” Dean said. “Your dad seems to be too.”

“Except he doesn’t want me here,” you said. “He’s got this…thing with my uncle. I can’t figure it out.”

Dean seemed to remember something. “Yeah, Bobby was sayin’ something like that. They had a falling out a while back?”

“I think it started when my aunt died,” you admitted. You were seven, and Aunt Karen had been your dad’s younger sister. You didn’t remember her that well, but you had a warm memory of her making pies for every season: pumpkin and apple for fall, blueberry for winter, strawberry and rhubarb for spring, and peach for summer.

“I’ve asked Bobby about it, but he’s not really the sharing type,” you said.

“Yeah, fair enough,” Dean said. It made you look over at him with some curiosity.

Dean was becoming something of an enigma to you. In some ways, he could be incredibly straightforward and kind in how he looked after you and asked about your life. But any time you asked about his family, about his past, about his job, he would pull back from you.

It made you nervous. What the hell is he hiding?

But it also made you determined to find out more. Now that you’d found him, you weren’t going to let him go so easily.

After the table was cleared and the dishes were done, you realized just how tired you were. Even your head was starting to ache.

Dean might’ve heard your thoughts (you had to get better at controlling that), because he looked you over in an assessing way.

“Hey, you should probably get some sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day, sweetheart.”

Even that small nickname made you blush again. Dean noticed, smiling. You purposefully looked away and called out to his brother.

“Goodnight, Sam.”

He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at you. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

You returned his smile before returning your gaze to Dean. He crossed his arms expectantly, a grin playing at his lips. “My turn?”

You uttered a laugh. Gaining some courage, you leaned up on your toes, rested a hand on his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Sweet dreams, you added mentally, then you turned to climb up the stairs.

See you tomorrow, he replied. It made you pause on the stairs and turn back to him with a soft smile.

Then, Dean watched you go up the rest of the way to make sure you were all right. He did his best to clamp down on his mixed emotions, so you wouldn’t sense them. When he turned around, he found Sam wearing a knowing grin.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I just never thought I’d see you like this.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sat on the other end of the couch. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, then rubbed at his face with both hands. Sam sat down next to him and dropped a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad, Dean. You deserve this,” he said.

Do I? Dean thought. “You know we’ve got a job to do.”

“…Yeah,” Sam said with a sigh. He was conflicted too. He wanted to give his brother the time and space to enjoy this, to spend time with you, but they still had to find their dad—and the Yellow-Eyed demon that killed Jess, and their mom.

Still, this was important.

“Why don’t you go up and talk to her?” he suggested, nodding up the stairs.

Dean frowned. “She’s going to bed.”

“Even if it’s five minutes,” Sam said. “Don’t waste any more time, Dean. Do something.”

So Dean went up to your room, and he knocked.

You opened the door a few moments later, but you hadn’t changed clothes yet. Sensing more than hearing his anxious thoughts had kept you puttering around the room, straightening things up, brushing your hair, trying to find something to wear for bed. You just didn’t know how to reach out and comfort him, or even if you should.

But you smiled when you saw him.

“Can I help you, sir?” you teased.

“Just for a minute,” he said, once you let him into the room. “You can kick me out whenever.”

You beckoned him to sit with you on the edge of your bed. You and Dean sat in silence for a moment, both of you trying to think of something to say.

“This is hard, isn’t it?” you said. Dean let out a breathy chuckle, his shoulders sagging a bit in relief. He looked over at you.

“Somehow, thought it’d be easier,” he said.

“Okay, let’s just get this out of the way. We’re basically strangers. Let’s stop focusing on the cosmic bond part of it all, and just try to get to know each other,” you suggested. 

Dean saw the logic there.

“Sounds good to me,” he said. He reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing the side of your face.

A blush dusted your cheeks. “You like doing that.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“Not really, no,” you admitted with a smile. Dean returned it, before his expression became more serious again.

“Hey, can you answer something honest for me real quick?” he asked.

“Okay.” Though you wondered where this was going.

“Are you okay?”

You folded your hands in your lap and stared down. “Yeah. I feel fine, Dean. Really.”

“Not what I meant,” he said. You felt his concern through your bond, encouraging you to look up at him.

“I get it if you don’t, but if you need to talk about what happened last night…” He let the thought hang off, giving you the space to decline if you wanted to, or if you weren’t ready. You sensed that he was willing to listen to you, and actually, that he genuinely wanted to know.

Well, that you could believe. He seemed to be the protective type.

You sighed; as much as you didn’t want to think about what happened, flashes of those memories were already resurfacing behind your eyes.

“It happened so fast,” you began. People always said that in the movies, but it was true.

“I got home late. I was…talking with you. As soon as I set my things down in the living room, he grabbed me from behind, dragged me into the kitchen for some reason…” You took a breath. “When I had enough wits about me to start fighting back, that’s when he used my head for basketball practice on the counter.”

Dean was quiet while you spoke. He was trying to keep his darker thoughts from spilling into his connection with you, but that was a feat in itself.

It was a good thing for him that Danny Schmitt was already dead.

“I saw the kitchen knives, but before I knew it I was on the ground,” you continued, though it was difficult to steep yourself in those wild, thrashing moments. Being pinned down, not being able to call for help or reach anything that could help you.

Your hand went to the bruises on your throat. “I couldn’t breathe…then I’m…not sure what happened. Maybe I got some adrenaline-fueled, Hulk Hogan-type strength, because the next thing I knew, I was looking down at Danny’s body. And the kn-knife, somehow I…”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you started to lose your grip, but Dean reached for your hand, squeezing yours. That, and sensing his supportive presence in your mind, gave you something solid to ground you as you breathed through it.

As was your habit, you twirled your mom’s ring around your finger.

“Danny?” Dean asked.

“Y-Yeah. We went to high school together,” you explained. “He was an idiot then. He got his fingers caught in the automatic stapler. How do you go from that to psycho-killer spree?”

Dean gave you an amused look, but he gave you an honest answer.

“Some people are born bad. Some people do bad things once in a while, and regret it,” he said. “Some people got evil shit on their mind, but don’t got the confidence to actually pull the trigger. Until they do.”

You let out a deep breath as you nodded.

“I just…Dean, I don’t remember grabbing the knife,” you confessed. “But it makes me wonder…what the hell else am I capable of?”

Dean could understand that, better than most. He let you lean into him and drew you close as you finally allowed yourself to let go. You felt bad for dampening his shirt with your tears, but you relished in his comfort and the safety of his arms.

Until both of you shivered. It felt like the room had dropped ten degrees all of a sudden.

Dean got an awfully familiar, suspicious feeling.

“Aw, shit,” he said.

“What?” you asked nervously. Your bedside lamp flickered, and somehow a draft kicked up into the room.

Dean got you to stand up by the elbows and grabbed your hand, heading for the door. It swung closed in your faces, making you gasp.

“Shit,” he repeated.

Your looked up at him in fear. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Whatever happens, just stay close to me.” Dean’s voice was firm, authoritative. It was fair to say you clung to his arm. Maybe that made you the quintessential damsel in distress, but to be fair, you were definitely in distress right about now. You didn’t have a clue what was happening, but Dean seemed to.

Then a strong gust of wind pulled him away from you and threw him into the large wooden dresser across the room. You watched in alarm, but you eventually made yourself move to go and help him.

That’s when a strange mirage glitched and appeared in front of you, startling you. It was a woman, maybe in her late-thirties. She looked familiar, but before you could focus on her face, Dean’s fist swiped through the mirage and made it disappear.

You looked up at him in shock. He was a bit banged up with a couple of scratches on his arm, but he held what looked like the iron handle from one of the dresser drawers he’d smashed into. You touched his arm, and your mind blazed with questions that you were finally able to express.

“Are you okay? What the hell was that? What—”

“All right, for right now just follow my lead, okay?” he said. He grabbed your hand and tried opening the door. It was locked. Damn it.

Sam called from the other side.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got us a ghost,” said Dean.

“What?” you exclaimed. As in Casper?

Dean sighed. “I’ll explain later. Move away from the door, Sammy.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

In one powerful move, Dean kicked through the door and broke the lock. You and Dean escaped the room, but your eyes widened as you pointed behind Sam. “Watch out!”

The woman was there again. Now you could see that she wore a white blouse with small flowers on them, and a long, dark skirt that seemed to glide across the floor. You realized that you recognized the shade of her hair, the shape of her face and features—many of them were similar to your own.

You felt like the air had fled from your lungs, all while your heart constricted painfully. Dean’s head swiveled toward you; he’d picked up on the shift in your emotions through your connection.

“Mom?” you uttered.

A gun shot rang out, making the vision of your mother scream angrily, and then disappear. Behind her was Bobby with a shotgun full of rock salt.

“All right, let’s get downstairs,” he said.

The four of you ran down quick to the ground floor. The lights continued to flicker as you went, and a draft followed you through the living room where the fireplace crackled with life. You watched as Sam went and got cannisters of salt from the kitchen and started drawing a large circle of salt around you all. Meanwhile, Dean grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace.

“Okay, will someone please explain what the fuck is going on already?” you asked. “Why am I seeing my mom?”

And why is she trying to kill us?

Sam and Dean shared a look before the latter sighed and met your wide-eyed stare.

“Like I said, she’s a ghost. Yeah, they’re real. Salt keeps them away, iron fends them off,” he explained. “Temporary fixes though. The only way to get rid of a ghost is to burn its old body’s bones.”

That was a lot of crazy information to absorb in all of thirty seconds. Dean laid his hands on your shoulders to get your attention, and to ground you.

“Where is she buried?” he asked.

“The cemetery,” you said tremulously. “Don’t say you’re gonna dig up my mom, Dean.”

His face twisted in apology. “That’s kinda where this is going, yeah.”

You were a tad bit horrified.

“But wait, you can’t,” you realized. “They buried her ashes.”

Sam, Dean, and Bobby all shared a similar frown. Damn it.

The ghost of your mother, Christine, reappeared just a few feet away and startled a scream out of you. The four of you stood within the salt circle, but that didn’t stop her. Her dark eyes were focused on the men as she created a gust of wind to blow the salt circle away.

Bobby shot off a salt round from his gun and made her disappear for a few seconds. But she was getting tenacious. She reappeared moments later to continue whittling at the salt line.

“Why is she coming after us?” you exclaimed.

“Some spirits don’t pass onto greener pastures if they feel like they’ve got too much to leave behind,” Bobby explained. “After a while, they start to lose their grip on…well, reality.”

“They turn vengeful,” Sam supplied. “Poltergeists, hauntings—”

“But why would she go after me?” you asked. You buried your hands in your hair and closed your eyes. Maybe you could block all of this out and pretend it wasn’t happening. “This can’t be real!”

“Hey,” Dean said. He grabbed your arms just tight enough to break you out of your spiral. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “This is real. It’s happening. Somehow your mom’s ghost is tethered to something else, because I think she followed you here.”

“Followed me?”

“From your house,” Dean said. He was leading you somewhere—with his tone and his eyes.

You gasped at as hit you.

The impossible knife stabbing of Danny Schmitt.

You hadn’t been anywhere near the kitchen knives. You’d been pinned down while slowly choking to death. It hadn’t been adrenaline. There really was no way you could’ve reached them.

“She…she killed Danny.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Trust me, I know, because this is my job.”

“This is what you do for a living?” You were damn near hysterics.

He offered you a helpless grin. “And it don’t even come with health insurance.”

“He’s right, there’s something else keeping her here,” Bobby said. He looked at you. “Do you have anything of hers?”

“No, I—” You’d started toying with your ring before it dawned on you with a gasp. Dean looked down at your hand and came to the same conclusion.

“It’s the ring,” he said. “We need to burn it n—”

Dean couldn’t finish his thought, because Christine reappeared behind him and threw him several feet away. The iron poker in his hand clattered away from him. She turned to Sam and Bobby next.

Before either one could shoot off a salt round, Christine raised a hand, commanding a desk to shove them against a large bookcase. They had to shield their heads as books fell off the shelves and thudded to the ground.

Christine stopped when she turned to you. Instead of attacking, she raised her hand out to you. Your eyes widened.

“Mom?”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t look at you with the same anger and menace as she had to the men.

“She’s not after you,” Sam said, with a tilt of his head. “She’s trying to protect you.”

He was still stuck with Bobby, while Dean was also pinned against the wall by the force of Christine’s will. He had enough autonomy to raise his head and meet your eyes with urgency.

“Toss the ring in the fireplace,” he told you. “Do it now!”

Your limbs were frozen in place. It was almost like being attacked by Danny; you could see the knives, but you couldn’t make yourself grab one. This time, you didn’t want to.

“I can’t!” You shook your head adamantly.

“I get it,” Dean said. He was struggling to break free of the ghost’s hold, gritting his teeth. “But you need to put your mom to rest. It’s the ring or your life. Throw that thing into Mount Doom!”

You looked up at Christine, and at times you could see through her spirit-like body. She wasn’t really there, nor was she supposed to be here.

Right now you were poor old Mrs. Jenkins, clutching your pearls.

So you ran to the fireplace. But the moment you fell to your knees there, a strong gust of wind blew out the flames. You gasped and turned to see that your mother was there, and she was now angry with you for trying to destroy her.

Frantically you searched for something to keep her away. What you found was Dean’s iron poker.

“That’s it, stick it right through her!” Dean guided you. Inside he was desperate to help you, but he instinctively buried it under the practiced focus of a hunter.

Your hands closed around the iron and you swung it like a baseball bat, making Christine’s spirit dissolve. Sam then called your name and showed you a lighter in his hand. He threw it towards you, but it bounced through your hands and scattered across the floor.

“For God’s sake,” you muttered frantically. You all but dove onto your hands and knees to scramble after the lighter.

“Watch out!” Dean shouted.

With a gasp, you twisted to face Christine again. This time, she commanded a chef’s knife from the kitchen.

“Mom!” you tried. While she heard you, she didn’t acknowledge what she was doing. Her face was twisted with a truly evil expression—one that you’d never seen on your mother when she lived.

The knife turned in mid-air. Then it spiraled toward you.

You instinctively covered your face with your arms and shouted. “Stop, Mom. Please!”

The room was deadly quiet.

Slowly, you realized you were still alive, if breathing heavily. You opened your eyes and lowered your arms a bit. The knife hadn’t pierced you, but it was still hovering in front your face. You remained very still when you looked up at Christine.

Her face revealed her shock. The evil dregs of death had melted away, revealing your mother as she was. As she had been in your fourteen-year-old memory.

Her expression softened into regret and sadness. The knife fell away from you and clattered to the ground. You let out a relieved breath and laid a hand over your wild beating heart.

Then it was Sam, Dean, and Bobby’s turn to feel relieved. Christine released them from her hold, and Sam and Bobby pushed the desk away from them while Dean rolled the kinks out of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” said Christine. Her voice was familiar, and also sounded overlaid with many whispered voices. Tears pooled in your eyes, but your hand closed over the lighter you found at your side.

You toyed with your ring and glanced at Dean. He gave you an encouraging nod.

“Do it, honey,” your mom said.

Shakily, you got to your feet and went back over to the fireplace. You used the lighter to reignite the wood, but once you took the ring off your finger, you hesitated.

A hand rested on your shoulder, and your tearful eyes met Dean’s sympathetic ones.

It’s okay. You can do this, he told you through the soul bond.

With a deep, shuddering breath, you nodded and let go of your mother’s wedding ring. It took a while, but eventually the silver started to melt.

Your mom’s spirit dissipated with a smile on her face.

The aftermath of that night was difficult, to say the least. The guest bedroom you were supposed to sleep in had a broken door, but the guys had helped you get it back on its hinges, more or less. You all agreed to leave cleaning up the house for tomorrow, as there were only a few hours left in the night anyway.

The way you felt…well, there weren’t really words for that. You laid in bed in a worn-out, oversized shirt you found in the damaged dresser. Your body was exhausted in every way. Your mind, however, was wide awake.

So was Dean’s. He stared up at the wall from his place on the couch, downstairs. Through the bond, he could feel the many shifts in your fraught emotions. It was keeping him awake too, mostly out of concern.

He tried to take hold of that thread of energy and send you something reassuring, even if it was just his presence and not his words. Because what could he say, anyway?

He sensed that you accepted the connection. He felt your gratefulness, despite the rest of it.

Do you want to come up here? you asked.

It surprised Dean, but his reaction was…conflicted. After tonight, part of him wanted to keep some distance between you and himself. His job attracted even more supernatural batshit insanity than a vengeful spirit. He didn’t want you to get caught up in that…

But a larger part of Dean couldn’t deny you, either.

I’ll be right there, he said.

Without waking up Sam on the recliner, Dean got off the couch and climbed up the stairs towards your room.

AN: Congrats to @spnexploration for figuring out the impossible stabbing of Danny Schmitt! You guessed it right on your first try. But I hope the clues I left were subtle enough lol.

Now that the reader knows about the supernatural, let's see what she and Dean get up to upstairs...

To keep reading: PART 7

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A huge thank you to everyone commenting and reblogging and overall engaging with this story! I didn't think it would end up being this long lol. But there's more to come soon!

If you like this, follow me for more SPN fics (and other fandoms). I'm also on Ao3!

@curlycarley @buckywenal24 @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @irgendwas122 @deans-spinster-witch @dogbarkbark4445 @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @happygoodvibe @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1ller1 @icequeen1371 @mininjageek @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

I Think They Like Eachother

♡♡-Request: Choso's little brother Yuuji, likes your little sister. They hang out all the time and eventually, you two start hanging out. You're nervous and shy because of the scar on your face, but Choso falls for you anyway.

☆☆-Warnings: modern AU, choso and reader are in their 20s, yuuji is 10-11, fluffy, mentions of a scar

"Heading to her house again?" Choso chuckled, ruffling the pink strands on Yuuji's head. The smaller boy pouted, pink dusting over his cheeks as he smacked his hand away. "So what if I am?" It was cute how much his brother liked your little sister. And judging how when they would hang out, your little sister liked him too. He'd never met you; heard that you worked at a coffee shop downtown. And you were never home when he dropped Yuuji off. He'd spoken to you a few times though, over the phone. Your little sister had given him your number, for emergencies. 

His phone rang just as he picked up his keys. "Hello?"

"Hi…I know Yuuji was supposed to come over today but my parents aren't home and I have to work. Could they hang out at your place instead?" Choso always thought your voice sounded soft…and cute. "Sure, I don't mind. I'm sure those two could find something to do here." He heard you give a sigh of relief, a little girl in the background talking your ear off about how excited she was. "Cool. We'll be there in ten. Bye.."

"Bye." He hung up, setting his keys back down. "Change of plans, she's coming over here instead." 

"What!" Yuuji shreeked, immediately running upstairs. He shook his head; ah, young love. A knock came at the door around ten minutes later. And for some reason, Choso was nervous. This would be the first time he saw you. He wasn't sure how he hadn't at least caught a glimpse of you, funny how that happens. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he opened the door. Breath catching in his throat when he looked at you. You were…beautiful. And you had a scar that ran through your eye down to the top of your cheek. It was cute. 

"Hi…" you said nervously, looking anywhere but directly at him. You were then pushed a little, your little sister barging her way in. Right. 

"Yuuji! She's here,"Choso called back, hand resting on the door. The sound of feet rang through the house. Yuuji stood at the top of the stairs, pink on his cheeks as he proceeded to run down them. Tripping a little at the end but recovered quickly, his hand snatching your little sisters' "Let's go!" Yuuji tugged her hand and led her into the living room. Where paper and crayons laid on the table. 

Choso couldn't help but smile as he watched the scene unfold. Unknowing that you were staring at him. "She really likes him huh?" He questioned, chuckling softly before looking back at you. You nodded. "Yeah…she hasn't stopped talking about him. It looks like he likes her too." You nodded your head towards the two, giggling as they drew each other holding hands. 

"Yeah, he even rushed upstairs to clean his room quickly when I said she was coming over." You giggled and it was the sweetest sound Choso had ever heard. 

"Well, I'm glad she's in good hands. My mom should pick her up later, thank you, again." You gave him a smile, waving your hand before heading back to your car. His heart beating wildly in his chest.

…

Since that day, you and Choso had been talking more. Texting and even calling, and when you had time off, he would ask you to hang out. He had fallen for you and your kind nature. Your sweet laugh and beautiful smile. But he didn't have the courage to tell you and he didn't know, but you liked him too. Too scared to say it. Good thing you both have nosy little siblings, who set out to play matchmaker after your little sister mentioned the lingering looks. But still, they were 10 after all, so the extent of their plan was to simply lock you two in a room together. 

Choso sighed, "I don't know what's gotten into them." He shook his head, taking a seat on the bed. You sighed, still smacking at the door, begging them to let you out. Explaining how you had work soon and you couldn't be late.

"We're not letting you out till you confess!" "Yeah!" Yuuji agreed, giggling. 

"Confess? Confess what?" You sighed again, resting your forehead against the door. You don't remember doing anything that would warrant a confession. "I think..I know what they're talking about." Warmth flooded his cheeks as he wiped his hands on his pants. "A confession…I, well. I like you. Romantically." He cleared his throat, looking away. You didn't say anything and it filled his stomach with nerves. Were you rejecting him? Then he heard feet, walking towards him and a gentle hand pressed to his cheek. "I like you too." His eyes widened before he smiled. "Really?" He found himself placing his hand in yours, watching as you nodded your head. Two voices saying, "Yes!" Outside the door caught his attention. He shook his head,

"How about I take them for ice cream while I take you to work?"

Navigation

[abarbaricyalp]

For the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Bingo!

I've always wondered what it was that happened between Endgame and TFATWS to separate Sam and Bucky (other than bad writing) I don't think I really found an answer, but it was fun to ponder a little bit of their mental state during those six months and the fallout afterwards

Never Hit Send, Never Called Again

Sam had clocked the phone instantly in Raynor’s pseudo-office, pseudo-session. Some old flip-phone nonsense that he’d only ever seen Bucky use for nefarious goings-on. He’d flashed it at her during some argument about how reachable he was. Actually, her exact words had been ‘accessible’ which Sam didn’t like at all. Still, that phone was not Bucky’s regular phone. He’d seen the sleek thing he used to play music and also that bird game that definitely wasn’t still available to download. The one he added Sarah’s number to after much complaining from Sam and one flash of his dumb puppy eyes that only came out every now and then as he said, “What if something happens to you? I should be able to contact her.”

Despite the rest of the insanity in the ensuing months, the phone hadn’t left Sam’s mind. Or, if it did, it came back at the oddest times, like when he was stuck at a red light or when Bucky appeared on the docks like some Byronic hero getting over his own bullshit. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. He wasn’t even sure if Bucky still had it. Something had changed after that last meeting with Raynor. It was as if Bucky was caught in the moment between a world he’d been living in for six months and following Sam into a new one.  He’d chosen Sam then, even while they were both pissed at each other, even while his pardon hung in the balance, even when he hadn’t chosen Sam for half a year before. Something shifted and Sam wasn’t sure if whatever shady things Bucky had been doing went with it. The phone didn’t even make an appearance in Madripoor.

Still, one warm, lazy afternoon in Louisiana, while Bucky was in the shower, Sam thought of the phone again. Bucky had left his jeans thrown over Sam’s bed and Sam only hesitated for a few seconds before digging through absurdly large pockets for such tight pants until he came up with the phone. There was no kind of password protection on it. Sam wasn’t sure something this simple had the option.

The storage was minimal. There was a call log, a message center, and some kind of tracking program that he pointedly ignored. He navigated to the messages, where strings of unsaved numbers exchanged never more than a handful of texts. Except for two strings with Sam’s number.

In Bucky’s real phone, Sam was saved as Birdbrain and there was some unattractive photo of him shoving a hotdog in his mouth saved as the contact picture. Their messages consisted of travel plans, pictures of Sarah, Cass, and AJ, and a running joke about pigeons and raccoons. Maybe a few plans about dinner or a complaint about someone they worked with.

The first one on this phone–Sam–had nothing from the past several months. In fact, the texts stopped shortly after John Walker’s announcement as the new Captain America. Oddly enough, despite this not being the number Sam had ever had, the texts he’d sent Bucky in the months after the Battle of Earth were logged in it.

[October 25 2023] Landed safely in La. I’ll call tomorrow.

[October 26 2023] Hey, text me when you see this.

[October 31 2023] I checked with Pepper Potts. I know you’re not dead. Answer my calls.

[November 2 2023] Okay, you’re ignoring me. Fine. I can be more irritating than you are stubborn.

[November 5 2023] The world is weird. Someone moved into my brother’s old house while he was gone.

[November 5 2023] He’s a lot like you. Hiding out in New York instead of coming home. He can’t answer a text either.

[November 17 2023] What are you doing with your time? The Air Force reached out. Without the Avengers, they figure it’s a waste for me not to use the wings.

[November 17 2023] That’s crazy right? They’re the ones who locked them up in the first place.

[November 17 2023] I mean, it’s only been a month.

[November 22 2023] Any Thanksgiving plans? You know, if you don’t want to cook, lots of people get Chinese food. I knew someone who sat in the movie theater all day.

[November 22 2023] Could come down here too. Always an open invite.

[November 23 2023] If this is about Steve, you’re being an asshole. I lost him too.

[December 25 2023] Merry Christmas, asshole.

[January 1 2024] and a happy new year too

[January 12 2024] I need your opinion on something, so answer my damn calls.

[January 13 2024] You know what. Nevermind. It doesn’t involve you anyway.

[January 13 2024] I don’t know why I’m sitting here thinking we’re some kind of team. Why I’m trying to base any of my decisions around you. You gave up any say you’d get in the matter by throwing the most high school level bitchfit for no damn reason.

[January 13 2024] You could at least tell me what I did wrong. We were friends, Barnes. Don’t act like we weren’t. You were the only thing I had and I know I damn sure was the only thing you had.

[January 13 2024] I was thinking ahead and you were always there in those plans. What am I supposed to do now?

[February 22 2024] This is your last chance to say something before I don’t wanna hear it anymore.

[February 23 2024] fine.

Rereading them again, embarrassment and anger welled in his chest in equal measure but opposite directions. He’d been so lost after the Battle. Losing Steve had come out of left field, but the week after, while all of the clean up and pardon work and Blip nonsense was worked out, had made him feel like he could actually get through it because Bucky had been right beside him, a grouchy but solid shadow that made sure he was never near a cliff and never alone.

Sam had offered for Bucky to come to Louisiana with him, but the other man hadn’t even entertained the idea. He had some pretty words for how long he’d been gone from New York and he just needed to get home as much as Sam did and but, hey, send him pictures of the beach. Maybe Sam had realized right then that something wasn’t right, that Bucky was scheming something. While he was angry at Bucky’s disappearance, he wasn’t really surprised. Once he had confirmation from Pepper Potts that Bucky was alive and active–and not taken by Hydra or killed by some old foe or victim–he knew that there’d be no talking Bucky down to Louisiana or back into a team with him.

He’d wanted that so badly. After all the time they’d spent together, after all the bullshit they’d gone through together, he wanted Bucky next to him. He hadn’t imagined it. Him and Bucky, once they got past their posturing, worked well together. Bucky gave him something, brought something out in him, that he hadn’t had before. The childish, playful banter, the steadfast devotion, the support to do the things that left their hands dirty. Steve was great, the other side of Sam’s coin he thought sometimes, but it wasn’t everything. He wanted Bucky back so badly, it was like a gnawing wound in his chest, exacerbated by rejection and doubt.

Sam had reread his texts to Bucky hundreds of times over those months. He knew what they said. He knew Bucky had never answered.

Except.

On this phone? On the second text thread called STW?

There were response boxes. Not always immediately from Sam’s texts and rarely in relation to what Sam said anyway, but there were responses.

[October 25 2023] sam

[October 25 2023] hey

[October 25 2023] good

[October 25 2023] you deserve to be home

[November 1 2023] i’m sorry

[November 1 2023] it’s not about you

[November 1 2023] i mean i guess it kind of is. you’re just so good sam

[November 1 2023] i don’t know what i’m doing. I haven’t even gone outside. i have these nightmares. i barely sleep. i don’t have furniture. you don’t need this kind of bullshit while you’re trying to rebuild your life

[November 15 2023] the therapy is um it’s weird man. steve talked a lot about what you did at the va. this isn’t like that. i think she keeps trying to ‘tough love’ me but i don’t like her enough for it to stick

[November 16 2023] it’s my fault you know. all of this. it could only be me who did what i did as the winter soldier. no one else was like me. no one else survived

[November 16 2023] how am i supposed to make up for that

[November 24 2023] i saw you on the news. no rest for the righteous huh

[November 24 2023] you looked really good. you did really good. the whole world should be proud of you

[December 25 2023] Merry Christmas, Sam.

[December 27 2023] i started trying. to stop the things i set into motion. uh. it’s not really helping. at least it doesn’t feel good. actually it kind of feels like i’m falling down a whirlpool in the middle of a black ocean. there’s so much to fix. so much misery that’s out there because of me. it feels like a chore too not like a need or a desire. checking boxes to get a good grade or something

[December 28 2023] sam i’m so tired

[January 2 2024] do you remember that day in wakanda when you first came out to my little place instead of staying in the palace? you complained about the blanket i was using because we couldn’t share it then decided that it didn’t matter because i was too hot anyway? you cuddled that baby goat almost the whole time you were there

[January 2 2024] sam i think i’ve been gone on you for a while

[January 2 2024] that’s why i can’t come back. you’re doing too much good. you’re changing things. you’ve got a beautiful family who loves you. i can’t get in your way. i’d just bring you down with me.

[January 2 2024] i’ve been doing a lot of crashing recently and it’s like a wrecking ball falling over, just takes everything else with it.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked from behind him, interrupting Sam’s reading.

He stamped down the knee-jerk reaction to whirl around and hide the phone. He turned deliberately and held it up. At once, a thousand questions ran through his head. Somehow, the one that made it out was, “Why don’t you have auto-capitalization on?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose just a little. There was a simmering anger on his face, but below that was a scared animal look as he checked for quick exits. “Why do you have that out?”

“Rasputin was calling to set up your golf date. Why are my texts on here?”

Bucky scowled and he crossed the room to swipe the phone from Sam’s hand. For someone wearing Sam’s old basics sweats and a t-shirt that had seen its fair share of summer projects, he still looked like a dangerous storm cloud. “It’s none of your business. I was keeping your contact attempts close.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You were getting my texts twice over and you still ignored me? Actually, you didn’t ignore me. You were answering me, you were talking to me, but you were too chicken shit to actually send it.”

“You didn’t need to see that shit,” Bucky snapped. “You weren’t supposed to see it.”

“I needed to see all of it! I needed to hear from you!” Sam objected. “I was practically begging you to answer me!”

“I didn’t have any answers, Sam!” Bucky insisted. He shoved the phone down into his duffel bag and made to sling it over his shoulder, even though his jeans were still behind Sam and his boots were under the bed.

“Don’t even try it,” Sam bit out, yanking the bag away from Bucky. “You don’t get to run and go MIA again. Those days are behind you. I’m not taking it a third time.”

Bucky’s bright, stony eyes flicked between Sam and his bag before he gave up the fight. If he wanted to, Sam knew he could easily get by him, grab his bag, and leave. He could indispose Sam in a hundred ways. Make a dozen new escape paths. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a step back, then another, kept going until he hit the edge of the dresser and then stopped. “The first time was hardly about you,” he pointed out.

Anger and rejection and that old loneliness burst against Sam’s heart finally. It filled up his ribs until it could climb in his throat, and hot tears pricked at his eyes. He willed them away because he was not going to cry about this so long after the fact. “I needed you. Why didn’t you answer?”

“I told you, I wasn’t going to spend the rest of your life hurting you or dragging you down with me. I didn’t think the pardon would stick. I thought the past would keep hunting me. I know what people think of me. And, after the battle, I lost who I was. In the silence, in the stillness, I wanted a new fight.”

“I needed you,” Sam repeated from between his teeth. “That’s all bullshit. I needed you. You’d been there and then you left without a damn word. And now you’ve come back. Where are all those fears now, Barnes?”

Bucky blinked a few times, opened his mouth to say something but didn’t. His fingers curled on the lip of the dresser as he looked away from Sam, down to the ground. “I finally figured out you were more important than the fear.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” Bucky rushed to say before Sam could respond. “I was selfish. Unbelievably so. I masked it all as concern for you–which it was!--but I know now it was to protect myself too. I-I didn’t want to hurt you because I thought if I did, I’d lose you too. And I know I did anyway. I pulled the trigger myself. I thought it’d hurt less if I did it. One more thing in a long list. I’m sorry I put you in the crossfires. I’m sorry about all of it.”

Sam stared at him. He wished he still had the phone in his hand because at least then he’d be curling his fingers around it instead of digging his nails into his own palm. “No,” he said.

“No?” Bucky asked.

Sam stalked across the room to him, put himself right into Bucky’s space because he had nowhere to go against the dresser. “You wanted to hurt yourself and you didn’t care if you hurt me in the process.”

“Sam, that’s not–”

“You wanted to keep some happiness or security away from yourself and you didn’t give a fuck that you were keeping it from me too.”

“I never meant–”

“You didn’t think about me at all, Barnes! That’s the problem. I was in your face for months and you still couldn’t think of me.”

He realized suddenly that Bucky’s fingers were around his wrists and his own hands were pressing knuckles into Bucky’s chest. He forced his arms to relax. Bucky moved his hands just enough to keep him from digging into his chest. 

“You’re right,” he admitted in a breath. “I knew you were looking for something from me and I purposely kept myself from you. I wanted you to be able to find it away from me. I wanted you to be happy here. To be happy with Torres. To be happy with the Air Force. When you got your life put back together, I thought you had. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you still needed me. I wanted you not to need me.”

“You were the only person in the world who could understand,” Sam breathed. He stared at a spot on Bucky’s shoulder instead of at his face. “We disappeared together, came back together, had Steve, didn’t have Steve, fought the same battles, survived the same things, went on the run, went into hiding. How could I ever not need you next to me? Or even 1300 miles away, but at least close enough to text?”

Bucky’s breath stuttered as he let it out. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Hey.” He let go of one of Sam’s hands to raise his face up. “I’m never going anywhere again until you tell me to. You’ve got me now.”

And the sentiment would be sweet in any other circumstance, but Sam’s trust was still smarting something serious and all the things he’d been trying not to think about since March seemed to have just festered and grown. Six months of anger and worry and self doubt, doubled in size now. 

The way they had been over these last few months–even when they were under each other’s feet, arguing about everything but the actual problem–had been exactly what Sam had been longing for. Now he knew he hadn’t had it at all because Bucky had the emotional regulation of a six year old. They’d been living together long enough for Sam to never want to lose this again and it could’ve happened almost a year ago. They could have a house or an apartment by now. 2.5 cats and a grocery subscription service. All of the maybes and wishes of these terrible nine months could’ve eased so much of the heartache and uncertainty.

“Why couldn’t you just talk to me?” Sam asked. “I just needed to hear from you.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said again. “I was selfish and misguided. I promise I’ll do better.”

Sam held onto Bucky’s right wrist, smoothing his thumb over the racing pulse point there. If nothing else, Bucky had proven himself steady since March, even though the tumultuous beginning. But Sam had thought he was steady after the Blip too until he’d disappeared.

“I know it sounds bad right now,” Bucky added. “But if you need space–”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “Don’t leave. Not again.”

Bucky visibly relaxed. He nodded and then pulled Sam the last half foot to his chest, snaring an arm around his waist and pressing his forehead to Sam’s. He smelled like Sam’s bodywash, which was still weird even after all this time, and the warmth of the shower and an embarrassed worried flush sank into Sam’s bones instantly. “I’d come back this time. As soon as you asked,” Bucky said.

“You don’t have to if you don’t leave,” Sam insisted softly. “You’ve got a lot of time to make up for. Don’t add any more to your tab.”

Bucky huffed out the beginnings of a chuckle and nodded, forehead rocking against Sam’s. “I can do that, Sammy,” he promised. “Anything you need.”

And, yeah, maybe it was a need. It certainly felt like one, had for a while now. But more than that, it was a want. He wanted Bucky around and that ached more in his chest. Instead of admitting that, he just said, “This is a good start,” and held Bucky tighter.

[chaotic-orphan]

Delirious Villain x Hero, part 2:

Read first part here

*~*~*~*~*

Hero didn’t sleep that night. They just stayed awake, staring at Villain’s gentle rise and fall of their chest. The poor thing was probably exhausted and Hero didn’t know what to do. They felt so useless.

Villain woke up screaming in the middle of the night, fighting whatever monster was in their head. Arms flailing and legs kicking at everything trying to escape, Hero took one of the cloths from the water bucket beside their bed, still cold, and pressed it gently to Villain’s forehead.

Villain gasped awake, sitting straight up in the bed and then curling in on themselves and apologising. Hero jumped off the bed and ran around to Villain’s side, getting on their knees and taking Villain’s face in their hands.

“Villain, Villain, shhh, ssshhhh. It’s me, it’s Hero. You’re home, it was just a nightmare, Vil. It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Wide frightened eyes searched Hero’s face and found a stranger at first, pulling away from Hero’s hands.

“Villain, it’s Hero. You’re sick. You have a fever, you let me help you to bed last night. It’s me, it’s Hero, your Hero, please,” Villain entire body was shivering like they had just been dunked into a pool of ice, sweat running off their face as if they had just surfaced from the sea.

But slowly, very slowly, realisation dawned in their eyes and they let out a choked: “Hero,” through chattering teeth.

“Yeah, it’s me, Vil. Okay, I’m gonna put you on the chair okay?”

Villain just sucked in a breath and nodded, pliant and obedient as they took Hero’s outstretched hand. Tentatively they shifted their body towards Hero and hung their feet over the edge of the bed when all they wanted to do was curl up and cry.

“You’re soaking, Villain,” Hero said sadly and Villain mumbled out a shaky sorry. Hero shook their head. “No, no. It’s not your fault, Villain. I just think we should get you out of your wet clothes, okay?”

Villain just nodded. Hero said: “I’ll grab a towel for you, one second.”

When they left Villain’s hand felt unnatural and cold, so they tucked it back into their armpit shuddering as waves and waves of painful tremors shot through their body.

Hero was back in a matter of seconds, but it felt like years to Villain and they wanted Hero to just hold them and tell them they loved them. Hero would never do that again, though, A snide voice said in Villain’s head that sounded a lot like their brother, Not after seeing Villain like this. Pathetic. Weak. Useless.

“Can you put your arms up for me?” Hero asked gently and Villain obeyed. Arms going straight up.

It’s better in the long run if they just obey.

Hero peeled the sweat soaked shirt off of Villain and wrapped the warm fluffy towel around their shoulders. It was so warm and so soft, and dry, and it smelled a little like Hero. They choked back the sob that wanted to escape their throat.

Hero was too kind. Too nice to them. Loving them, doing this for them. It was too much.

They didn’t deserve this kindness. They deserved to be sick and rotting and shivering in their own sweat because they were nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“Villain,” Hero asked, voice quiet and soft. Villain’s eyes focused on Hero like they could see them again and Hero smiled. “There you are, you wandered off. I need you to stand up and I can take your pants off.”

Villain nodded numb and stood and swayed. “Woah, Villain. Hold onto my shoulders okay?”

Villain did as they were told and soon their wet pyjamas were discarded too. “Okay, good. You’re doing great Villain. Come here to the chair and I can strip the bed, okay?”

“No,” Villain mumbled, shaking their head despite the rush it caused them. “No. It’s… it’s too much. Too much work. Not… not… not worth it. ‘M… not—“

“Yes, you are worth it. You are worth this, Villain. It’s not a problem. I’m doing this because I want to. I want you to be comfortable, so really, if you let me strip the bed, you’re doing this for me,” Hero coaxed, as they guided Villain to the dry towel covered chair, letting them mull over Hero’s request.

“Okay,” Villain said as they sat on the chair. “I candoit for Hero.”

Hero smiled their radiant smile and Villain’s heart melted as they placed a kiss to Villain’s sweat covered hair. “Thank you Villain.”

Hero stripped the bed with swift sure movements, leaving and returning momentarily with another two towels that they put on Villain’s side of the mattress and redressing the bed with a new sheet and pillow case for Villain. Villain watched them work through bleary eyes, their body so heavy and sagging against the chair, enveloped in soft towels.

“Okay, see? Thank you Villain. You’ll be more comfortable now.”

“‘Mkay,” said Villain and Hero smiled at them again. They walked over to Villain and took a spare towel, drying Villain’s face and wringing out their hair. It felt so good, that little gesture. They weren’t as sticky and they felt they could breathe again. They leaned into Hero’s touch as they towel dried their neck and their torso.

“Brother would never do this,” Villain hummed happily, closing their eyes. Hero’s lips drew into a frown at the name. That horrible strange name that they hated hearing from Villain’s fever hazed lips.

“Brother isn’t here right now, Villain. They’re gone. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

Villain’s eyes opened wide and fixed on Hero, before softening, a lazy grin on their face as they said: “you’re so good to me Hero. You’re my Hero.”

Hero laughed. That was all the medicine they needed to get better. Then Villain’s hand shot out, fingers loosely holding Hero’s wrist hostage.

“You don’t have to save me, Hero,” Villain told them. “I’m not… ‘mnot a victim. ‘Mnot your job.”

“No,” said Hero, leaning in close and wrapping a hand over Villain’s. “You’re not my job,” Hero said, pressing a kiss to Villain’s knuckles and tucking them back into the towel they were wrapped in. “You’re my partner. My friend. My lover. My caretaker, my everything, Villain. My everything. If you think there’s not a thing I would do to protect you and keep you safe you are dead wrong, and I’ll spend everyday of my life proving how much you mean to me. That includes right now. I’m doing this because I love you, not because I have to. Understand?”

“They’re lying to you, Vil,” said Brother from across the room, looking out the window into the street below. They turned their head to Villain, a horrible grin on his face as he said: “Understand?”

“Yes,” Villain said quietly, eyes glazed over and unfocused. “I understand.”

“Good,” said Hero with a happy smile and kissed Villain on the cheek. Then they stood and went to their dresser, pulling out a fresh shirt and shorts. Hero’s clothes. “Let me dress you and we can get back into bed, okay?”

“Okay,” said Villain. Hero’s scent enveloped Villain as Hero put their shirt over Villain’s head and put their arms through. “You always smell good,” said Villain, keenly aware of how bad they probably smelled to their perfect Hero. Villain probably repulsed Hero right now and they were just being nice about it. As soon as Villain fell asleep Hero would leave them and it would be all Villain’s fault.

“You’re right there, Vil,” said Brother, this time beside Villain, looking at Hero as they put their shorts on Villain. “Just wait until you wake up and it’s just me and you again. Would you like that? Maybe you can throw up for me again. Just the two of us. I do so love that gagging sound you make when you retch—”

“Hero don’t leave,” Villain yelled, grasping onto Hero’s shoulders tighter. Hero’s hands were on Villain’s waist stabilising them, but they moved one hand up to brush the hair from Villain’s eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, Villain. I’m taking a couple days off. I’m staying with you. It’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you’re better.”

“Lies.”

“Okay,” Villain sighed, sagging against Hero. Hero wrapped their arms around Villain, and just held them there for a moment. When Villain squeezed tighter, Hero did too just to let them know that Hero was there. In front of them. With them.

“Let’s get back to bed,” said Hero. Villain didn’t move.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Villain mumbled against Hero’s shoulder. “I don’t want to go to sleep again.”

“You don’t want to see me again? I’m hurt.” Brother asked, right behind Villain’s ear. Villain shivered in Hero’s arms and Hero held them tighter.

“Okay,” Hero said. “So how about we just lie down then and talk?”

Villain didn’t move for a minute before sighing and nodding against Hero’s shoulder. Hero smiled and helped Villain back into the freshly made bed. Villain let out a soft sigh as Hero walked around the other side of the bed.

As soon as Hero climbed in, they had their arms around Villain, resting their head against Villain’s shoulder as Villain lay on their back staring at the ceiling. Hero wrapped their leg around Villain’s and lay a hand on their chest, feeling the soft heartbeat within.

Villain put their hand over Hero’s and squeezed it gently. “Thank you Hero.”

“You’re welcome Villain.”

They just stayed like that. Huddled together in bed, Hero not letting up or letting go for even a moment. Neither of them knew when Villain’s fever broke, but it did and for the first time in the last 24 hours that felt more like 24 days Villain was coherent. Or at least, coherent enough.

“Hey Villain?” Hero asked, voice small. Villain hummed in reply, the rumbling reverberating from their throat to their chest and Hero felt it echo under their palm. “Who’s Brother?”

Villain stiffened under Hero at the name, and Hero nearly wished they didn’t ask them. This could have waited until they were better. Until they were fully better, but Hero didn’t know if Villain would tell them when they were fully better.

Brother came into view, standing over Villain as they stared into the ceiling, a wide grin on their face and cruelty pulling at every feature.

“Yeah, Vil. Tell them about me. About me, and what I did to you. Then they’ll definitely run in the morning.”

“Listen,” Hero said, breaking the heavy eye contact Villain was making with Brother’s phantom and closed their eyes. “I know he did something bad to you. I just— you never tell me about your past.”

“There’s a reason for that Hero.”

“It’s because they were pathetic in the past,” said Brother to Hero but Hero couldn’t hear them. Only Villain could, and they knew that Brother wasn’t really here. Wasn’t real. They hadn’t seen them in years, they probably don’t even look like how Villain saw them anymore. Tall and broad and dark and hiding cruelty behind a mask of virtue.

Sometimes when Villain looked in the mirror, they saw Brother’s eyes peering back at them. Black and void and endless. Villain hated how alike they looked, had always looked. They couldn’t escape him even to this day.

“Brother…” Villain began, trailing off with a heavy sigh. Not knowing how Hero was going to take this. How does someone react to someone when they find out they were abused? How do you look at them and not see a victim? Villain didn’t want to be a victim. Didn’t want Hero to see them like that. “If I tell you…”

“They’ll run.”

“You’ll run.”

“They’ll look at you differently.”

“You’ll look at me differently.”

Hero sat up looking down at Villain. “I won’t,” they said in earnest. “Villain I would never see you as anything more than I see you now. Or anything less. I love you. I want to know you, even the dark parts. All of you.”

“They will, Vil,” Brother said, this time going to sit in the chair that Villain was in while Hero dressed them. “But go ahead. Tell them how broken and damaged you are. Go on.”

“Brother is—“ Villain began again, then sighed and ran a hand down their face, pinching the bridge of their nose. Their eyes closed as they said: “Brother is the name of my older brother.”

The silence settled heavy around them. Like the fall of a guillotine that separated the life of Villain with Hero now, and the past they tried so hard to run from. So hard to hide from.

It was out now, in the open between them. Permeating the silence. Filling every atom of the room and dragging it down. Making the air thick and sticky, and hard to breathe through.

“Fuck Villain,” is all Hero said.

Villain let out a small humourless laugh. “Yeah, fuck is right. He was awful to me. Not at first. He was a good brother when we were kids, I mean younger kids. He was brilliant,” Villain said.

“I’m touched.”

Villain ignored the phantom of their Brother.

“I mean like, he was perfect. Smart. Funny. Charming. Compassionate. Every kid loved him, every parent thought he was the perfect child. My parents adored him, which is okay, because I did too. He stuck up for kids being bullied, everyone said he was a good kid. A hero. Kind and good, and smart, so when I came along everyone expected someone like him.”

Hero’s face was drawn, worrying their lip between their teeth and their thumb absently trailing their lips. Villain let out another soft laugh.

“You’re like him,” said Villain, reading Hero’s mind, squeezing Hero’s hand on their chest in theirs reassuring. “But not in the superficial way that he was good. You’re actually good.”

“So… everyone thought he was good, but he wasn’t?”

“H— He was good. That’s the killer. He was good to everyone. A hero. A kind, smart kid. Adored by all. He was just a monster to me.”

“So poetic, Villain. You’re making me shiver. Go on.”

Villain let out a heavy sigh.

“Villain you don’t have to—“

“No,” Villain said with a forced smile. “It’s fine, Hero. I want you to know.”

Hero nodded, cautious eyes wide, catching every movement of Villain. Looking for any tell that they actually wanted Hero to stop. To stop questioning and looking for an answer, but they… they wanted to know. They wanted to know what made Villain so upset about being sick.

“So, I guess it all started after I got into a fight at school. Some idiot kid was talking bad about Brother in front of me and I wanted so badly to be like him. To prove myself that I was like him. So I defended him. Then the kid got even more lippy and we got into a fight. Brother came to break it up and when he realised it was me in the fight, I had never seen him look at anyone like that,” Villain whispered, eyes haunted by the same stare that he saw when he looked in the mirror everyday.

“Like I was worthless, and beyond saving. He defended me, like I did him and he made it up to the other boy. Turns out the other boy was just jealous and actually wanted to be friends with Brother.”

“That was at lunch… then after school when we were walking home, Brother went a different direction and I followed, because obviously I followed him. He was my older brother and we always walked home together. I thought it was just a new way—“

“But it wasn’t, was it?” Hero asked. Villain heard Brother giggle in the chair and turned their head to see him leaning forward, hands on his knees. Eyes alight with vicious glee.

“This is my favourite part, Villain. Continue.”

“No,” said Villain. “It wasn’t. He brought me into the woods, sat me down on a felled tree trunk and asked me what happened at lunch. I told him. I told him I was defending him. That I did it for him.”

“You didn’t do it for me, though, Villain. If you’re honest with me right now, you didn’t do it for me,” Brother said.

Villain stood up and protested. “I did, Brother. I swear I did.”

“No you didn’t. If you were thinking of me you wouldn’t have done it at all. You embarrassed me today, and now I have to talk to stupid, fat, ugly Tyler Tobins just so the fight doesn’t get reported to the principal.”

“I had never heard him call anyone names before,” Villain said in awe. As if the name calling shocked them still to this day. “Ever. And three names in quick succession I thought maybe he was just angry and didn’t like Tyler. No one really liked Tyler anyways.”

“So what did you do?”

“I did nothing,” said Villain. “I said sorry. Tried to explain myself again but he didn’t appreciate that. He just walked over to me very slow. Stood over me and stared me down with his black eyes, no smile or happiness of kindness anywhere near him… he looked at me with hatred and said:—“

“You’re not sorry,” Brother said along with Villain. “Not yet. But you will be.”

“Then he beat the shit out of me. Tore at my clothes. Kicked me in the ribs, the chin, the face, the nose. Stomped on my back, then when I cried out for him to stop, he kicked me over to my back and got on top of me and just started wailing on me. I couldn’t breathe with the blood and I’m pretty sure I blacked out half way through, but when I woke up my body was so sore. I remember being surprised at being alive. I think I thought I died.”

“But Brother knew I was awake when I woke up. He stood over me and said to get up and come with him to the stream so he can clean my blood off of him. He even said he would clean me up a little too. He didn’t say sorry. I was eight at the time. He was eleven. Since then the beatings only got worse, more creative, more invasive.”

“Villain…” Hero breathed, putting a hand on Villain’s cheek. Villain turned to face them, unshed tears glistening in their eyes. Forcing a small smile onto their lips. “I’m so sorry. You— you didn’t deserve that. I— I don’t know what to say.”

“I know Hero,” said Villain, tracing figures on Hero’s hand still on their chest. “I know that. I’ve dealt with it over the years. Got away as soon as I could and never looked back.”

“What about your parents?”

“Oooh, that one’s gonna sting.”

“They didn’t care. When they found out, they didn’t care. They loved Brother more, it was always like that. It hurt, but they’re not in my life anymore.”

“How can a parent just sit back and let that happen to their child?” Hero demanded hotly, eyes burning with righteous fury. “Why didn’t you report them for neglect? Or— or abuse, or something!”

“Because I just wanted to cut ties, Hero. Brother was making a name for himself in the world, and if I tarnished his reputation with a lawsuit against our parents I’m sure he would’ve tracked me down and killed me, or worse.”

“Bet your ass I would’ve,” Brother said from the chair. “But it’s okay, Villain. I don’t need to find you again. I’m already here, in your mind, still frying your noodles whenever I want.”

“But it’s not fair,” Hero said, frustrated tears forming behind their eyes. Villain cooed and reached a hand up to wipe the tears away from Hero, a fond smile on their face. “I shouldn’t be crying, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Villain. “I don’t know how many times I’ve cried over it, Hero. It’s okay. I changed my name when I left them. Moved towns, moved here. Met a certain crime fighting badass and flirted my ass off with them until they fell for me.”

Hero laughed through the tears, sniffing.

“And I fell for them,” Villain continued. “They won’t ever find me, Hero. They will never bother us again, so let’s just… be happy together and forget about them, okay?”

“Okay,” Hero sniffed with a watery smile.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[hd-wireless]

📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #3

The third week of posting has come to an end! Enjoy catching up with this week's selection of wonderful works. 

There's a work for everyone in this fest (and if you haven't found what you're looking for yet, we're not done with posting).

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there) ❤️ And here for the YouTube playlist.

Please enjoy this week’s entries below the cut:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 A Quiet Life [T, Digital art]

🎵 Song Prompt: A Quiet Life by Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld  🎵 Summary: After their relationship becomes public knowledge; after being hounded by the paparazzi; after Draco says enough is enough and leaves London; Harry’s more than happy to follow.  After all, a quiet life is all he’s ever wanted.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 I made loving you a blood sport (so let's play) [E, 3,032]

🎵 Song Prompt: Blood Sport by Sleep Token  🎵 Summary: They sat in an odd kind of silence, comfortable in its discomfort. In the predictability of its recklessness. The thing between them was as palpable as the thick smoke in the air, consumed with every breath, and likely just as bad for them.

📻 Everything that can go wrong will go wrong [T, 5,178]

🎵 Song Prompt: If You Were Mine by Leon Bridges and Miranda Lambert  🎵 Summary: “You can move in with me!”  Shit. Apparently there was still a possibility to make a fool out of himself to his crush despite his best efforts at minimizing contact. Draco and Andromeda looked at him in record speed, showing their own expressions of confusion. Maybe at his appearing out of nowhere, maybe at his panting that made it seem like he just ran a marathon for some reason, or maybe at his abrupt and impulsive suggestion. Shit. Teddy wasn’t even here to take off the edge—Harry was completely alone in this one.  After a pause, Draco fully turned to him with a manner that definitely showed his opinion of how stupid Harry was, and asked, “What?”

📻 Antelucan Ruins [E, 29,453] 

🎵 Song Prompt: Ghost by Justin Bieber  🎵 Summary: From the bloody Prophet, Draco discovers Harry Potter’s death splashed in grey ink printed on the front page. Potter is dead before Draco gets to see him again to fulfil a half-spoken promise. And yet, these days Draco has the power to bend the world to his heart’s desires, and that includes fucking Harry Potter even after he personally saw Potter’s pale, lifeless body lying in a coffin before it got buried under the soil. "Do you realise that you're just as pathetic and insane? You're so hung up on the idea of me that you'd fuck a ghost, Malfoy. You risked your life for it."  Draco puts an arm around Potter's body, "Whoever says I am sane? Certainly not me. It's calculated risk with more success rate than failure. And you are dead, Potter. You refuse to move on to the next realm because you crave for my cock."

📻 I've Been There (sitting in that same chair) [Gen, 2,212]

🎵 Song Prompt: The Village by Wrabel  🎵 Summary: People keep knocking on Draco’s door. Draco just wants to read his book (he doesn’t mind, really).  Or: Draco gets to be the supportive queer person he’d wished for when he was younger.

📻 Lonely Rivers [M, 7,370]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Unchained Melody' by 'The Righteous Brothers'  🎵 Summary: Six years after the end of the war, Harry takes care of Teddy Lupin and has started to learn guitar. Hermione negotiates with foreign powers. Draco's a trainee Healer with a glam karaoke routine. And when Ron and Parvati decide to get married, they find a job for everyone...

📻 How to Begin [E, 8,478]

🎵 Song Prompt: Blush by Orville Peck  🎵 Summary: Harry is completely, pathetically besotted with his flatmate, Draco. Fuelled by liquid courage, he finally makes his move when he's absolutely sozzled. What could possibly go wrong?

📻 Oneiros [E, 13,125]

🎵 Song Prompt: Enter Sandman by Metallica  🎵 Summary: When contact with a weird vase traps Harry in his nightmares, it's Unspeakable Draco Malfoy's task to rescue him. In order to do so, he will have to face his past and his family history and win a duel of wits against a Morpheus and try to be better than his father each step of the way...

📻 Say When [E, 24,545]

🎵 Song Prompt: Undisclosed Desires by Muse 🎵 Summary: When Auror Harry Potter is sent in undercover to determine if Draco Malfoy is laundering money through his BDSM club, will he be able to keep up the ruse and close the case? Or, more to the point, will he keep from falling in love?

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] Case of You [E, 11:48:56]

🎵 Song Prompt: Case of You by Joni Mitchell  🎵 Summary: Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down.  Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

[nabibeans]

Eternal Sunshine

Summary: Seonghwa, 19 has been in an online relationship with Hongjoong, 18 for nearly two years now. Due to high school they’ve never met. However now that they’ve graduated and have the whole summer before college Seonghwa’s family takes a trip to Los Angeles, coincidentally where Hongjoong lives.

Disc: they’re high school age here. So no smut! Just lots of fluff of two long distance boyfriends meeting.

•☀️•

Seongwha laid on his bed on his stomach, headphones plugged into his laptop while he worked on filling out paperwork for multiple colleges. He’d been offered to study at Seoul National University, Yonsei, you name it he probably got a scholarship for it. On the computer he’d forgotten the whole reason he even had it out. “Babe? You listening?” Seonghwa’s eyes snapped back to the screen, his boyfriend sat on the floor of his messy bedroom. Messy brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, he wore a sports bra with pajama pants, Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile at the bit of pudge his stomach had as he bent over to get closer to the screen. “I was asking what color I should dye my hair.” Seonghwa smiled softly, setting the paperwork aside for now. “What colors do you have this time babe?” The boy grabbed a few bottles holding them up. “Pink, red, and blue.” Seonghwa tapped his chin. “How about pink? You’ve never done that color.” The boy smiled, “okay I will! I gotta call-“ , “Hongjoong! Mom says clean your room!” A voice called from off camera. “Ugh, I gotta clean my room. Can you keep me company while I do?” Seonghwa laughed, “of course babe.”

Hongjoong smiled, picking up the laptop he had face time on and setting it on his dresser. Now that Seonghwa had a full view of the room he could see the state it was in, clothes scattered the floor with multiple art supplies, his bed was a mess of plushies and blankets, a trans pride flag hung on the wall next to a gay pride flag, the windows were covered by sheer black curtains. “Damn babe, when was the last time you cleaned.” Seonghwa joked. Hongjoong rolled his eyes, beginning to grab the clothes off the floor first. “I told you I got really sick recently, I was in the hospital for a day or two because I was dehydrated.” Seonghwa hummed. “I remember, we didn’t video chat for a couple days while you were sick.” He watched with nothing but love in his eyes as his boyfriend cleaned his room. He liked when he could see Hongjoong like this, his full body figure, the way his mullet reached just the tip of his spine. Hongjoong was skinny, but he also wasn’t. He was slim with the tiniest bit of fat in all the right places, it was cute. Seonghwa just wanted to squeeze him.

“Oh babe! Did I tell you? I was thinking of going to college in Korea. But I also don’t really want to go to college, plus the paper work of moving to Korea only to come back to Los Angeles. I haven’t spoken Korean since I was a toddler too.” Seonghwa nodded as he listened. When they first began dating Hongjoong had told him he was born in Korea but moved to Los Angeles at a young age after his mother booked a very large job there. He spoke mostly English, but knew a good amount of Korean. Seonghwa had learned proper English to be able to communicate with his long distance boyfriend, making it much easier for them both. “If you don’t want to come all the way here for college don’t baby. Do what makes you happy.” The door to Seonghwa’s door opened, “hey Hwa! Mom says dinner is ready. Gotta hang up on your boyfriend.” Seonghwa sighed, “I gotta go babe. I’ll call before you go to bed okay?” Hongjoong was tugging on the sheets when he looked up. “Okay babe, I’ll call you later. Bye! I love you!” Seonghwa smiled. “I love you too babe.” He hung up the call putting the laptop aside. “What’s your lover boy up to now?” His brother rubbed his head. Seonghwa pushed his hand away, “cleaning his room. Thinking about college.” , “so normal kid things.” The two laughed sitting at the table.

Hongjoong had finally finished cleaning his room, collapsing onto the bed he grabbed his AirPods of the nightstand, putting them in his ears before grabbing his phone. Scrolling through Apple Music he opened the playlist Seonghwa made for him and started it, he’d listen to music while coloring his hair. Grabbing a pair of gloves and a bowl for the dye the boy got off his bed and headed into the bathroom connected to his room. Normally someone would dye his hair for him, but this time he wanted to do it himself. Humming along to the playlist Hongjoong began to run the pink dye through his hair, suddenly a Group FaceTime notification popped up. “Damn it guys.” Answering the call he went back to dying his hair. “Hey guys what’s up?” The group were all scattered around right now, though Wooyoung and San were clearly in the same place. “We have a plan to go to the beach sometime next week. What do you think?” Hongjoong hummed, he wasn’t normally a fan of the beach. “I don’t know, I’ll have to see what Mom and Bumjoong have planned. We’re supposed to take a mini vacation to Hollywood sometime this month.” Hongjoong tugged the gloves off, throwing them away before grabbing another pair. “Let us know! Yeosang’s family is out of town and he’s alone with his sister, she said it was chill if we all hung out there sometime.” Yeosang nodded in agreement. “Maybe we could have a sleep over before Yunho leaves to Florida for college with Mingi.” Mingi and Yunho had both been accepted into the same college, deciding to move to Florida once the college season started. “Yeah that sounds nice, but..I kinda want to go to Korea and meet my boyfriend.” Hongjoong blushed, he’d been thinking about it for a while, his mother had even agreed to buy him a plane ticket. “You haven’t asked him yet? You guys totally need to meet!” Wooyoung gasped. “We will! We agreed we want to, but my schedules never line up with his.” , “you’ll figure it out. Hey wanna go out for burgers at about 6? San is paying.” Hongjoong nodded. “Yeah burgers are good. I’ll let my mom know.”

“So remember how we take a family vacation every month?” Seonghwa’s mother spoke. “Yea, what’s up?” Seonghwa’s brother, Seungmin spoke up. “Well, looks like Los Angeles is next on the list! Isn’t that where your boyfriend lives honey?” She smiled at Seonghwa. His jaw dropped, he’d get to meet Hongjoong!? “Yeah! He lives near Beverly Hills I think?” Seonghwa didn’t remember details, just that Hongjoong and most of his friends lived in a nice neighborhood. “I think it would be nice if you met him dear, you always talk about him and I can tell you really love him.” Seonghwa blushed. “I’m supposed to call him later, I’ll tell him I want to meet him. We’ve discussed him coming here a few times but his mom is so busy it never works out.” His brother nodded, “definitely ask him without saying we’re going. You want to surprise him.” His father who had been silent spoke up, “tell ya what kid, we’re gonna make sure you meet that boy. Regardless of how hard it is.” Seonghwa smiled. “Thank you.”

It was around 9pm when Hongjoong got home, a bit tired from his outing; after dinner he and his friends ended up doing a bit of shopping at the mall then got boba. “Mom! I’m home!” He called out, “Hongjoong! Welcome home honey!” She called from the kitchen, where she was making kimchi with Bumjoong. Hongjoong walked into the kitchen, bags in hand. “Here, got your favorite.” He handed one of the drinks to Bumjoong, then another to his mother. “Thanks shortstuff, how was it? What did you get now?” Hongjoong sat on the bar stool, pulling a few shirts out of the first bag. “I got a few shirts to wear for our trip, they’re all short sleeves. I also bought a swimsuit.” His mother looked up, “you haven’t worn an actual swimsuit since you came out. Let’s see it.” Hongjoong pulled out the swimsuit next, it was a tankini, the top red and the bottoms black. “I figured this would suit me best, so I’m not too aware of my boobs.” His mother nodded her approval. “It’s cute! I promise we will get that surgery scheduled as soon as possible honey. There’s just so much to do.” Hongjoong smiled softly. “Mom it’s fine, I’m in no rush to get top surgery, especially if Seonghwa and I decide we might want a baby.” Bumjoong spoke now, “do you want kids?” Hongjoong thought about it. “I think I’d like to have a baby yes, But not any time soon. I’m only 18.” His phone rang in his pocket, taking it out Seonghwa’s caller ID flashed across the screen. “It’s Seonghwa, I’ll be in my room!” Hongjoong grabbed his bags, answering the call as he walked upstairs. “Hey babe! I just got home!” He smiled seeing his boyfriend’s face. “Hey babe, did you have fun with your friends?” Hongjoong nodded, stepping into his room and switching the light on. “I did! We went shopping after we ate, I got some clothes and a swimsuit.” Seonghwa smiled affectionately. “I have to change and pee real quick, I’ll be right back babe.” Hongjoong set the phone down on his nightstand, giving Seonghwa a view of his plushie net. Going into the bathroom Hongjoong did what he needed to then changed, deciding on a pink tank top and some shorts to sleep in. “Okay I’m back!” Grabbing his phone he walked over to the light switch, switching it off. “I’ll show you my clothes tomorrow, I’m really tired.”

Seonghwa smiled at his boyfriend, “I can see that, you do look tired.” He laid in bed himself. “It was fun, but exhausting. Wooyoung dragged us everywhere.” Hongjoong settled into his bed, rolling over so he was facing the wall. Seonghwa’s eyes softened, his boyfriend was so cute. “You look cute, oh by the way. My mom wants us to meet up. Would there be a time we could?” Hongjoong choked on the soda he’d grabbed to sip on. “I uhm..yeah! Next week! I’m going to the beach with my friends we could meet there!” Seonghwa nodded. “Great! I’ll let her know. Do you know what day?” , “ah Friday, it’s the only day Jongho can come down from San Francisco.” Jongho was Yeosang’s boyfriend, they’d also been long distance before Jongho moved from Korea to San Francisco for college. “Okay, I can’t wait to finally see you. Get to hold you.” Hongjoong blushed, grabbing a plushie. “I can’t wait either! I want to bring you to my house to meet my mom and brother, could you maybe stay the night too?” Seonghwa nodded, “I’ll ask my mom babe, it would be better than staying in a hotel but it’s still a family trip.” He almost let it trip. “I know babe, my mom runs an air bnb I can send a link to a home that’s available right now.” Seonghwa was excited. He’d finally get to meet his boyfriend, the love of his life. “Thank you, I can’t wait to see you.” Hongjoong yawned softly. “I can’t wait to see you baby.” He mumbled sleepily. “Don’t fall asleep yet, last time you did that you called me at 3am your time while you walked to seven eleven for snacks.” Hongjoong laughed. “But I’m so sleepy baby.” The two chatted for at least two hours before Hongjoong fell asleep, hair covering his face and the tv making noise in the background. Seonghwa couldn’t wait to meet him.

It was raining when they got off the plane in Los Angeles, much to Seonghwa’s dismay; turned out it’d be raining the whole week so plans had changed with the beach. Instead Seonghwa would go straight to Hongjoong’s house and spend the next few days with him while his parents were exploring and having some much deserved alone time. “How excited are you to meet your boyfriend buddy!?” Seonghwa’s father shook the boy gently. “I’m very exited! I can’t wait to see him. He looks so small when we video chat but I think he’s shorter than that.” Hongjoong was very small, his testosterone hadn’t done much in that area. “You have to send us pictures of each other!” His mother cooed, “don’t worry I will, I’ll see you guys in a few days.” The family split up, Seonghwa walking nervously to the entrance. Hongjoong had said he’d be coming to pick him up, which shocked him. He hadn’t know Hongjoong had his license, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking it out his stomach began to do flips,

🐿️: I’m in the bathroom, I really had to pee and couldn’t hold it. It’s right by the entrance.

His boyfriend always had a small bladder, he couldn’t remember how many times Hongjoong left their calls every night to use the bathroom. Walking over to the restrooms entrance he decided to wait outside , leaning against a pillar. The next few people that exited the bathroom were definitely not Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s nerves began to build up. That’s when he saw him, Hongjoong was in fact very short, probably no taller than at least 5’7 on a good day, he wore a black cropped tank top and blue skinny jeans; pink hair messy. His face was buried in his phone, typing away at something that had his brows furrowed. Seonghwa carefully approached the boy, wrapping his arm around his waist. “Hey I’m looking for my boyfriend.” Hongjoong flinched. “Hey get your hands off me fucker-Seonghwa!?” The phone slipped out of his hands, immediately Hongjoong’s body was pressed against his own; both of them locked in a tight hug. “Oh my god! No fucking way this is happening! Are you real!? Are you really my boyfriend!? Oh my god you’re so hot in person!” Seonghwa smiled, pulling back from the hug to properly admire his boyfriend. “You’re just as cute in person as you are through a screen.” Hongjoong nodded, tears falling down his face now. “I’m so happy, oh my god.” Seonghwa smiled, pulling him back in. “I am too, you have no idea how long I’ve been dying to meet you.” The couple held each other a bit longer before pulling away. Hongjoong bending down to pick up his phone. “How was your flight? Are you hungry? Tired? Wanna drop your bags off at my place then get lunch?” Seonghwa chuckled. “Yeah sure sounds good. The flight was long but I slept most of it.” Hongjoong laced their fingers, blushing at the warmth of Seonghwa’s hand. He finally got to hold his boyfriend’s hand! “That’s good! I parked close not too much of a walk, my car is messy though so I’m sorry.” Seonghwa giggled at the boy’s obvious nerves. “It’s okay babe, I’m just happy I’m with you.” The two made it to Hongjoong’s car, putting Seonghwa’s bags in the backseat. “Your car is not messy! A few bottles of soda is nothing!” Hongjoong blushed, “it’s messy to me.” He slipped into the drivers seat, Seonghwa getting in on the passengers side. Hongjoong started the car, then looked towards his boyfriend shyly. “Can I kiss you? Is that okay? I really want to kiss you.” Seonghwa reached out to cup his cheek, gently running a thumb over the warm skin. “You don’t have to ask to kiss me, we’ve waited this long.” The pair leaned in, finally sharing a kiss. Their lips stayed pressed together for a few seconds before separating. “Wow, your lips are so soft.” Hongjoong blushed, “so are yours, nice chapstick by the way.” They shared another kiss, this time longer. Breaking apart again Hongjoong took his boyfriend’s hand. “Let’s go! Mom is excited to meet you.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong chatted the whole ride to Hongjoong’s house, their hands never once separated. “I live in a gated community by the way, curfew is at midnight.” Seonghwa nodded. “I plan to have you in bed by midnight, you barely sleep.” Hongjoong giggled. “I did last night! I was really tired.” Opening his door a bit Hongjoong typed in the password to the gate, getting back in the car as it opened. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Seonghwa was shocked to say the least, Hongjoong’s house was huge; surrounded by a well kept yard and two other vehicles sat in the drive way. “This is my home, don’t be intimidated.” Hongjoong smiled as he leaned over, kissing his boyfriend once more. Seonghwa returned the kiss, “I’m not, well..maybe a little.” The two got out of the car, grabbing Seonghwa’s bags then heading inside. “Mom I’m back! And I have someone with me!” He tugged Seonghwa into the kitchen area. Seonghwa felt nervous as they entered the kitchen, Hongjoong’s brother and Mother were packaging the kimchi they’d made. “Oh my goodness! Are you Seonghwa!? It’s so nice to meet the young man my son has been so happy with.” Bumjoong bowed. “I’m Bumjoong, his big brother. Nice to meet you.” Seonghwa bowed back, “nice to meet you both, I’m so happy to finally meet Hongjoong in person after so long.” Hongjoong smiled, hugging his boyfriend’s waist. “We’re gonna get Seonghwa settled then go out for lunch, is that okay?” Hongjoong’s mother nodded. “Just be careful my baby!” Hongjoong’s ears turned red as they left the kitchen. “Your mom and brother are really nice. I like them already.” Seonghwa followed his boyfriend up the stairs, and into his room. It was much cuter in person than on camera. “This is my room, you’ve seen it on camera though.” Hongjoong sat on the bed, “I might change, the jeans are making me sweaty.” Seonghwa joined his boyfriend on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him close. “You look cute no matter what. You know that right?” Hongjoong nodded, “I know.” He yawned. “You’re tired.” Hongjoong nodded. “Only a little, I haven’t drove that long in a while and it’s raining.” Seonghwa smiled. “Let’s take a nap instead then. I want my baby well rested.” Hongjoong thought about it then nodded. “Yeah okay, let me take my bra off and change into shorts. You can change too, I don’t like people in my bed with jeans on.” He smacked his boyfriend’s thigh. “Didn’t think you would.” Seonghwa stood up, grabbing his small boyfriend and picking him up. “God you’re tiny, perfect for me.” Hongjoong squealed. “I’m not that tiny! Now put me down!” Seonghwa put him down, but not before kissing his lips one more time.

The couple slid into bed after changing and Hongjoong shut the blackout curtains, the sound of rain was loud over the low voices coming from the tv. Seonghwa was only starting to fall asleep while Hongjoong snored softly in his arms, a sleepy smile on his face. “I love you.” Seonghwa whispered, pressing a kiss to his lovers head. As he fell asleep he heard a soft groan, followed by a sleepy, “I love you too.” The couple cuddled togeher, finally able to fall asleep in each others arms. No screen to separate them now.

[redongray]

Excerpt from a now-unknown 1982 book compiling real women’s sexual fantasies and their origins. The speaker of this account is “Margaret,” who is described by the authors as a "slender, educated, well-dressed woman in her late 40s, married with two children…Her husband is a professor; she manages the household and does some translation of contemporary German and French novels for ’spending money.' She has a pleasant, confiding quality and a ready laugh at life’s little ironies. She blushed charmingly several times when providing the interviewer her account.’

Here is a condensed version of what she told the interviewer about her secret fantasies:

“A simple sturdy leather belt has long been a very important object with great power in my most private fantasies…this image or object began to be really central to my arousal process in my early 20s when I first moved to the big city to go to graduate school, and it still is today. Or, I don’t know, maybe it was even before that time...

I’m still a little ashamed of my fascination, so I don’t really talk about it with any friends or lovers, but I sometimes wish I could. I don’t want them to sort of pathologize the whole punishment fantasy thing, if you know what I mean? I don’t want therapy for it. (She laughs quietly.) It’s just my thing, and I know where it began for me. I don’t think any of my siblings have any similar desires and they had similar experiences. We are all a mystery and we are all different. Desire is just desire; who can judge it?….

Here are the underlying biographical details that no doubt contributed to my ‘fetish’ or fantasy realm, and I’m sure some people will form their opinions and that’s okay. When I was growing up in the 1950s in a small town, a belt hung inside the door to the basement, a very serious object that served as a reminder to the teenagers in the house that they were held to higher standards of behavior now that they were closer to adulthood. We were mostly pretty sensible about what we did by that age, pretty good kids overall, so it was very rarely used. But it was always there, on that hook inside the basement door. If you really crossed the line, did something really forbidden or just wrong, like smoking cigarettes (my sister did that once) or cheating on a test (one of my brothers did that once) and had been sent upstairs to your room to wait, and then you heard the basement door open, well then you knew you were going to be 'getting the belt.’

Well, actually, the boys would be taken down to the basement for theirs. My sister and I knew about how it went for them: there was a bench they’d lie on after taking their pants down to their knees. That was usually Dad who spanked them. I always thought about that when I happened to be in the basement and see that bench. Sometimes if I was alone down there I’d start to feel funny tingly feelings in my privates as I thought about it and my breath would feel a little short. And it almost seemed to me that I could hear that doubled whistling through the air before it struck.

That was the boys. If we were going to get it, my sister or I would be told to wait in our rooms, as I said, and we’d have to lie over a pillow that was placed on the bed. If it was Mother, we’d have to raise our skirts or take down our pants and underwear or pajama bottoms. Dad didn’t do it quite as hard, maybe because we were girls, and he let us keep our underwear up for it.

Mostly with us it was Mother. It was punishment, so it always very hard. You’d feel this powerful anticipation. It took your breath away from the first stroke, and it didn’t let up once it started. You could hear the steady snapping sound through the walls or floor if it was someone else. It would just go on and on while you pretended not to hear it. When you were really crying and desperate and couldn’t believe you could stand another stroke, it wouldn’t just stop. No, somehow they knew never to stop just then; that was exactly when the real lesson was learned as you tried to stay in place.

But then suddenly it would be over. There was no nonsense about it and that was how it went. No one punished us in anger but they were certaintly stern about it; it was just a matter of accountability. They were different times and this was more the norm than not in a small town like ours. We are all just fine today. But boy did my bottom smart those few times I got it during high school, deep pink all over afterward in the mirror, with some raised bands of welts that throbbed and I’d run my fingers along, and then it would itch like mad for some reason later when you were sitting at dinner or in church or a classroom. Like my bottom was the center of the world.

The funny thing is, back then I thought I had the most pert little bottom of all the girls I knew. Little did they know what fire it sometimes felt…I sometimes even miss it, believe it or not. Isn’t desire a funny thing?"

[serialkilluh1996]

𝕹𝖊𝖜 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘™

House of wax teen-AU pt. 2

Warnings; none I can think of

Given your predicament, you had to spend the night with the unusual trio, though the stay was more than welcoming.

² stay the night

Slowly opening your eyes, you groan as you begin to sit up, looking back to see Vincent sleeping rather peacefully as he spooned you, his long arms tight around your waist. It was now completely dark outside, as you could hear the sound of crickets chirping right outside.

You looked around, noticing your necklace had disappeared. The one thing you had brought was now missing, and you didn't have the energy to care where it went. What did bother you, however, was the time. By the sound of the bugs, you could tell it was pretty damn late. It was obvious your crew had gone home by now, and if they had looked, they decided it was too dark to find you. It almost upset you, just knowing how easily they'd given up on you, but you knew you wandered off on your own.

Finally, you heard the sound of a door unlocking, followed by two pairs of footsteps and a loud thud as if something had fallen over. Vincent immediately wakes up, moving his arms from around you in a swift motion, as if to avoid getting caught with you. You stood up from the bed as one pair of footsteps proceeded up the stairs, the other going elsewhere, seemingly lower into the house.

"Sorry, we took so long. i wasn't expectin' us be out for so many hours," Lester scratched his chin as he stood in the doorway. "Did you find them?" You asked. You knew they hadn't, but you couldn't resist asking.

"'Fraid not, miss. i think they left withoutcha." You frowned at his answer. Your family was likely worried and panicking. "Where is Bo?" "He's downstairs handling some business. you can call your parents if ya want." he suggested, trying to make you feel better. Lester brought you downstairs while Vincent followed close behind, watching as you made your way to the house phone.

You sat down on the couch as you dialed your mom's/dad's number, Vincent and Lester waiting eagerly with you for them to answer. They could sense your unease.

"Hello?" "[+], it's me."

you explained how you ended up in said situation and told them about the nice yet peculiar people you'd met in the process. soon after, the phone hung up.

"How'd it go?" Bo busted through a back door, small traces of blood on his hands. "My [+] is coming to pick me up tomorrow. What happened to you?" You asked curiously. "Nothin' much. We had some truck difficulties on the way back, and i hurt ma self in the process." Bo states.

"I thought you knew how to work on cars?" "Yeah, well, it was dark outside." He responded defensively, making his way towards the stairs. Bo tapped Vincent on the shoulder, signaling what time it was. Vincent nodded, making his way to the back door.  Lester took a seat beside you, removing his cap. "How're those injuries holdin' up?" Lester asked. "Pretty good. Vincent cleaned them and wrapped them up." You responded. 

"Aw, did Doctor Vinnie patch ya up good?" Lester gushed. you giggled at his remark. "He may seem off, but he's a real sweetheart. Very caring n' protective. He hates seein' us get hurt. Why, he's practically a personal nurse for Bo as much as he gets injured. He really puts the hospital in southern hospitality." Lester leans back, stretching his legs out. He seemed to really like talking to you, even if there wasn't much important to say.

Bo walked back downstairs, now wearing a white tank-top and some dark green drawstring plaid pajama pants. Your stomach began to grumble audibly, loud enough for both Bo and Lester to hear. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"I see someone's hungry." Bo teased you as he strolled towards the kitchen. "You want me to cook?" Lester offered, smiling. "Pfft, no. what are you gonna cook, roadkill?" Bo side eyed him as Lester frowned at his brother's remarks. Those two seemed to fuss at each other a lot.

Vincent returned from downstairs, his apron covered in wax. "What's with the wax?" You asked curiously.

"Vincent makes wax figures." Lester answered for him. "Really? Can i see them?" You asked eagerly. "I wouldn't suggest it." Bo intervened. "Please?" You began to beg, obsessed with the idea of seeing them. Vincent nods, grabbing your hand and taking you to a separate room. There were two wax figures dancing, both being life-size.

Over to your right were miniature wax figures. as you took a closer look, you found that they were all signed 'Vincent' in beautiful cursive. "Vincent, these are beautiful." You tell him. He stares at the ground bashfully, his long hair draping over his face. His breathing thickened with his nervous aura.

"What's in that room downstairs?" you questioned. Vincent looked both ways, making sure his brothers weren't around. Looking you in the eyes, he pulled your hand, bringing you to the ominous staircase that hid many secrets. What were you about to see?

As Vincent led you down the stairs, you were met with a weird room that was illuminated by some sort of open incinerator. Beside it sat a table with few tools and a few tanks of wax. But that's not what got you. It was the weird machine that seemed to fit a human. Like a stretch but with spikes.

Being that you were not too familiar with how wax sculptures were made, you thought it was used to make the life-sized statues, in which, you weren't completely wrong, but there was still more to the story. that's when you noticed a familiar figure in the corner. You weren't positive, but it looked just like the guy who would often tick you off back home. Obviously, it was just one of Vincent's statues, but the resemblance caused a sort of unease.

"This looks awesome." You say to Vincent. "How do you make them so realistic?" Vincent begins to twirl his hair, unsure how to answer. You were getting far too nosy, but he didnt want to cause you any harm. You weren't much different from the many others who'd come to town, all curious about his work. But you were the only one who acted so kindly around him, even compared to Bo.

"VINCE!" Bo yelled out, and he snatched you by your arm and sprints back up the stairs. Suppressing your pants of loss oxygen, you and Vincent stand beside eachorhwe with slightly guilty expressions, hoping, praying that Bo wasn't onto you.

"You start fixing on the plates. I need [×] to come with me real quick." Nervously, Vincent walked into the kitchen, and Bo led you to the front porch. "Is something wrong?" You asked him. He could tell you were timid, but he paid it no mind. "No, not at all. I just figured you needed some fresh air." He took a seat on the stairs. "Tell me, [×]. When you separated from your group, it was because someone was bullying, wasn't it?" He asked as you sat beside him, listening to the sound of crickets chirping, the summer breeze blowing against you.

"How did you know?" you asked. "Lucky guess." He tells you with a cocky laugh. You think back to the wax figure in the basement. He'd been pestering you, and in order to get away, you wandered off into the woods. That's when you fell down that ass-scented hill and met Lester. "It's this boy. He talks a lot of shit, but i'm used to it." You told him. "Well, you shouldn't have to be used to it. I don't think you'll have to worry about her anymore." He chews on his lip skin.

"And how would you know?" Bo snickered at the question, "Lucky guess." he says, going on to chuckle. "What is with you and these lucky guesses?" You ask. "I'm a pretty lucky guy. Lucky enough to have met you, anyway." He pinches your cheek.

"Vincent's done with the plates." Said Lester, appearing out of fucking nowhere. "Alright. You should probably go in and eat." Said Bo. "We....Don't really eat together." He states.

"Oh, i see." You said. "I'll eat with you if you want!" Lester happily volunteered. "Ew, don't creep her out!" Bo yelled. "I'm nooot!" Lester said in protest, making you laugh. As the three of you walked in the kitchen, Vincent handed each of you a plate, heading down to the basement, and Bo made his way to his bedroom. Lester took you to his room, letting you sit on his bed.

"Where are you going to lay?" "The floor, of course." He tells you. "Wanna watch a movie while you eat?" He asked. "Uh, sure." Lester puts a dvd in the player. After eating, you were out cold, not even concerned with the film Lester put on. "Awww." Said Lester covering you up. "Only seventeen minutes in, too. Shame."

He grabs your empty plate. Vincent walks in, staring at your sleeping form. "What's wrong, Vinnie?" He sighed, looking over at Lester. "Aw...it's okay. I want her to stay too but...we only have to options. You know how Bo is. We kill her, or we let er go home. And j think it's best that we stay in his good graces while he feels kind enough to let er live." Vincent runs a hand across your forehead, down to your cheek. Like he's studying your face. Every curve and contour, every line and bump. He's memorizing it with his fingers.

He knew he'd never forget you.

I hope you enjoyed this, and you can find other parts of this story under the first tag (#𝕹𝖊𝖜 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘™). You can support me by liking, reblogging, commenting, and many other forms of engagement. Remember to stay hydrated, stretch your limbs, and if all else is too much, breath. Thank you for your time <3