#and i managed to get thru it but it just added to the feeling like no one gave a shit

[krispiecake]

i hope that everyone is aware that i am trying SO HARD to be normal but the universe is TESTING ME.

[dangaer]

dialov.ers lore is so complicated even rejet gave up on it

[imloyaltoscoups]

guinea pig | kim mingyu

You've recently turned one of the empty rooms in your apartment into a makeshift photography studio. It's become your haven, a place where creativity flows freely, but there's just one thing missing—a model.

With a sigh, you glance around the room, pondering your options. Suddenly, it hits you, your friends! They'd be perfect for the job. You grab your phone and open your group chat, typing out a message: "Helloo~ I need a guinea pig for a photo shoot. Any takers?"

You wait eagerly for their responses, but one by one, they all decline. Some are out of town, others too busy with work or other commitments. Feeling a tad disheartened, you're about to give up when a private message pops up from Mingyu.

"What do you mean by guinea pig???" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

You grin, relieved to have found at least one potential prey model. Quickly, you reply, "I mean someone to pose for some experimental shots I want to try out. Are you up for it?"

There was a pause before Mingyu's response came through, teasingly saying, "Ah, I see. You might want to change the term you're using though. Sounds a bit... scary."

"Sooo it's that a yes?" you type back.

"Yup, just give me a minute to prepare," Mingyu replies promptly.

Amused by Mingyu's willingness to participate, you shoot him another message, "Oki~ Btw bring a few different outfits if you can."

After a moment, his reply pops up, "Hmm, shouldn't you be the one worrying about outfits? I'm just the canvas, remember?"

Chuckling at his cheeky response, you type back, "True true. Haha. I'll make sure to have some clothes ready. Just get your ass here. ASAP!"

As you continue to organize your makeshift studio, another thought crosses your mind. Typing out a message to Mingyu, you suggest, "Gyu, since you're the model, can you bring some food? We might get hungry during the shoot!"

Mingyu's reply comes in swiftly, his cheekiness evident in his words, "Wow, now you want me to be the model and the caterer? What's next, am I also doing your hair and makeup?"

You chuckle at his response, appreciating his sense of humor. "Consider it a payment for your modeling services," you reply, adding a smiley face.

There's a brief pause before Mingyu responds, "The audacity. 🙄"

You can't help but laugh at his cheeky response, typing back, "Hey, a multi-talented model like you can surely handle it all, right?"

"Fine" he concedes, "I'll drive thru mcdo, anything you want?"

With a grin, you reassure him, "Anything will do, as long as it keeps us fueled for the shoot. Thanks, Handsome!"

As you place your phone down, you can't shake off the excitement bubbling inside you. Rushing over to your printer, you start browsing Pinterest for inspiration, printing out a mix of cute and seductive poses. You gather them into a folder, ready to guide your impromptu photoshoot.

Heading to your closet, you rummage through the clothes, searching for outfits that can accommodate Mingyu's towering height. After a bit of digging, you manage to find a few options that might work.

With a satisfied nod, you arrange the shirts, jackets, and skirts neatly on the rack, mentally crossing your fingers that Mingyu will show up in jeans to complete the look. It's a bit of a challenge styling someone taller than you, but you're determined to make it work.

Glancing around your makeshift studio, you double-check the lighting and adjust the backdrop slightly, ensuring everything is set for the photoshoot. you settle into a chair nearby as you wait for your muse to arrived.

Hearing the doorbell, you spring up from your chair, practically sprinting to the monitor to check who's there. Sure enough, it's him, standing at your front door with a grin on his face. "Open the door!" he calls out, his voice muffled through the speaker.

Swinging it open, you're greeted by Mingyu's amused expression. Before you can even exchange greetings, your hand instinctively reaches for the bag of food he's carrying.

But he is quick to react, pulling the bag out of your reach with a playful tsk. "Ah ah ah," he teases, holding the bag just out of your grasp. "Not so fast, photographer. You'll get your food after we're done shooting."

You can't help but pout, disappointment clear on your face. "Come on, just one fry!"

With a mock sigh, he relents, literally plucking a single fry from the bag and holding it out to you. "Fine, just one. Don't say I never did anything for you." you eagerly accept it, savoring the salty goodness.

But when you ask for more, he shakes his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Sorry, buddy. You're on your own for the rest. Gotta save some for the hungry model."

You let out a playful curse, feigning disappointment as he steps past you into the house, the tantalizing scent of fries lingering in the air. Well, at least you got a taste.

"Nice setup," Mingyu comments as he steps into the studio, his eyes scanning the room before landing on the clothing rack. He quirks an eyebrow as he examines the skirts hanging there. "A skirt? Really?"

You shrug with a sheepish grin, replying, "Hey, it's the best option considering my pants won't even fit you. But don't worry, it's part of the art."

Thanking him for wearing denim jeans, you dive into picking out some clothes for him. "Okay, let's see… How about this turtleneck?.. with this skirt." you suggest, holding it up for his approval.

As you hand him the clothes, you expect him to excuse himself to change, but to your surprise, he starts undressing right there in front of you. You pause for a moment, taken aback, but then you remember that you're both comfortable with each other, and it's all in the name of art.

Once he's dressed, you step back to admire the look, studying him intently. Despite the unconventional pairing, Mingyu somehow manages to pull it off effortlessly. You can't help but feel a pang of admiration, marveling at how effortlessly he can make any outfit look good. "Nice," you finally comment, unable to hide your admiration. "You could wear a garbage bag and still look hot."

He laughs at your comment, flashing you a grin. "Thanks, I think," he replies, striking a wink. "But let's stick with the turtleneck and skirt for now."

"Alright, Gyu, I need you right over here," you gesture towards a spot in front of the backdrop, indicating where you want him to stand.

"Stand tall, shoulders back, and give me a confident stance."

Mingyu follows your directions with ease, adopting a relaxed yet commanding posture that fills the frame with his presence. You adjust the lighting, capturing the play of shadows on his features as he effortlessly owns the space.

"Great, now let's try something a bit more dynamic," you continue, gesturing for him to shift his weight and strike a more playful pose. "How about a slight lean forward, like you're about to take a step? And maybe tilt your head to the side, just a bit."

With a subtle nod, he adjusts his position, adding a hint of movement to the shot while maintaining his composed demeanor. The camera clicks away, freezing the moment in time with striking precision.

As you review the shots on your camera screen, you can't help but be impressed by Mingyu's natural talent in front of the lens. "You're a natural, Gyu," you remark with a grin, feeling the excitement building with each successful shot.

"Let's switch things up a bit," you suggest, motioning for him to crouch down slightly. "Can you lower yourself down and rest one arm on your thigh?"

Mingyu nods, gracefully sinking into a crouch while maintaining his poise. He extends one arm, resting it casually on his thigh, the lines of his body creating a captivating silhouette against the backdrop. His expression takes on a thoughtful intensity as he gazes off into the distance, his features highlighted by the soft glow of the studio lights.

As you review the images on the camera screen, a playful idea strikes you. "Gyu, do you think you could put your finger on your lips and stretch them out a bit? Like you're shushing someone?"

Mingyu quirks an eyebrow at the request but doesn't hesitate to comply. Placing a finger to his lips, he stretches them out into a playful pout, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It's a simple gesture, but it adds a touch of whimsy to the shot, making it all the more captivating.

"Nice," you grin, snapping away as Mingyu holds the pose, his playful expression captured for eternity. "Stand up Gyu, let's switch up the look." you say, turning towards the clothing rack to pick out a new outfit.

As you start browsing through the options, you hear Mingyu's footsteps approaching. Before you can react, he's beside you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he plucks the folder from the table.

You turn to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Oh, found the inspiration folder, did you?"

Mingyu nods, flipping through the pages with a knowing smirk. "I see you've been doing some interesting research," he remarks teasingly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You feel a flush creep into your cheeks, but you try to play it cool. "Just trying to get some ideas for poses, you know," you say nonchalantly, though your heart rate might have picked up a bit.

He smirk, as his gaze lingering on the images in the folder. "Hmm, some of these poses are... quite provocative," he comments, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

You clear your throat, feeling a bit flustered under his scrutiny. "Uh, yeah, I was just exploring different styles." you reply awkwardly, hoping to steer the conversation back on track.

But Mingyu doesn't seem deterred, his grin widening as he leans closer to you. "So, which one of these 'interesting' poses are we trying next?" he asks, his tone teasing yet daring.

You clear your throat, trying to regain your focus as you hand Mingyu the leather jacket. "Yep, just the jacket and pants for this one," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow playfully, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just the jacket and pants? Sounds like my kind of outfit," he teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.

You chuckle nervously, trying to keep your composure as he strips off his previous clothes and slips into his pants. Your breath catches in your throat as he casually drapes the jacket over his shoulder, the fabric falling in elegant folds.

Gulping down the sudden surge of nerves, you muster up the courage to give him instructions for the next pose. "Next, let's try something a bit more... dramatic," you say, your voice coming out a little shaky.

Mingyu quirks an eyebrow, his gaze flicking towards you with a hint of curiosity. "Dramatic, huh? I like the sound of that," he remarks, his smirk widening as he waits for your next move.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands as you instruct him to pose. "I want you to stand with your back against the backdrop, one hand resting on your hip and the other holding the jacket open slightly," you explain, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu nods in understanding, a playful glint in his eyes as he strikes the pose with practiced ease. As you prepare your camera, he can't resist teasing you one last time. "Why not give me some more specific instructions? After all, you've already seen the folder," he teases, his voice laced with playful mischief.

You swallow nervously, acutely aware of the charged atmosphere between you. "I think you already know what I want," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. As you continue to snap away with the camera.

He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sureee" he concedes.

Rolling your eyes at Mingyu's teasing, you instructed him to wear the jacket. "Just put on the jacket now, please," you say firmly, trying to ignore the playful smirk on his face.

He laugh quietly, but he complies, slipping into the jacket with a casual grace. As he starts to zip it up, he pauses and shoots you a mischievous grin. "You sure you don't want to show off my abs?" he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

You shoot him a glare in response, your patience wearing thin. "Just follow the instructions, Kim Mingyu," you say, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Mingyu's smirk fades slightly at your tone, and he nods, zipping up the jacket until it reaches his chest. He then looks at you expectantly, waiting for further instructions.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gesture towards his pants. "Now, unbutton your pants," you instruct, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't protest. Instead, he reaches down and unbuttons his pants, revealing the waistband of his boxers underneath. He looks back at you, a playful glint in his eyes as he waits for your next command.

"Now, let's try something a bit more candid," you suggest, adjusting your camera settings. "Take out your phone and look at it, as if you're checking a message or something. And keep one hand resting on your jean."

Mingyu nods, slipping his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. As he does so, he shoots you a playful grin. "Sure thing, boss," he replies, his tone laced with humor. With his phone in hand, Mingyu adopts the pose you described, his gaze fixed on the screen as his other hand rests casually on his jean.

"Perfect," you reply, framing the shot and adjusting the focus. "Just hold that pose for a moment."

As you snap the photo, Mingyu's eyes meet yours briefly, a playful twinkle dancing in them. "Got it," you say, lowering the camera and giving him a nod of approval. "That was great."

Mingyu grins, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Thanks. Anything else you want to try?" he asks, his tone casual but curious.

"Can you lower the zipper of your jacket just a bit?" you ask, trying to maintain your professional demeanor.

Mingyu's grin widens as he teasingly responds, "Oh, now you want to see my abs, huh?"

You shoot him a glare, but he only laughs in response. "I was just kidding," he adds quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But seriously, I can't adjust it."

Letting out a resigned sigh, you reluctantly make your way towards him. As you reach for the zipper, Mingyu takes the opportunity to grab your camera, holding it up to give you a better view.

But as you struggle with the stubborn zipper, you can't help but feel Mingyu's gaze burning into you. His eyes are fixed on your face, his expression unreadable yet strangely intense.

Feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks, you try to ignore the distraction and concentrate on the zipper. With a final tug, the zipper finally gives way, sliding down smoothly to reveal the hint of Mingyu's toned chest beneath.

With the zipper finally adjusted, you reclaim your camera from Mingyu's grasp, grateful to resume the shoot. You quickly refocus your attention, determined to capture the perfect shot.

"Alright, Gyu, let's try something a little more intense," you say, your voice slightly husky as you gesture for him to follow your lead.

He nods, his expression serious as he waits for your instructions. "Place your thumb on your lower lip," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper as you watch him carefully.

Mingyu follows your directions without hesitation, his thumb brushing lightly against his lower lip as he fixes his gaze on the camera. There's a raw intensity in his eyes, a simmering passion that sends a shiver down your spine.

As you snap away with your camera, you can't help but feel the sexual tension crackling between you. Each pose becomes more daring, more provocative.

"That's a wrap," you declare with a satisfied smile, reviewing the pictures you've taken with Mingyu. The images are stunning, each one capturing a different facet of his charm and charisma.

Mingyu nods in agreement, a satisfied grin on his face as he removes the jacket, leaving him with just the unbuttoned pants. "Great job, Y/N," he says, giving you a playful wink. "Now, how about we switch roles? You be the model, and I'll be the photographer."

You consider his suggestion for a moment before nodding. "Why not?" you reply with a grin, handing him the camera. "Let's see what you can do behind the lens."

Mingyu accepts the camera with a grin, already brimming with ideas for poses and compositions. "Alright, but first, I think you need to change," he says, gesturing towards your denim shorts. "How about switching into some jeans?"

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of being on the other side of the camera. "Sounds good," you reply, making your way to your bedroom to change. As you slip into a pair of jeans, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation building inside you.

You return to the room, a sense of suspense coursing through you as Mingyu holds out a denim jacket. His next request catches you off guard. "Um, remove my shirt and bra and just wear the jacket?" you repeat, your voice slightly shaky with surprise.

Mingyu nods, a determined look in his eyes as he hands you a picture from the folder. "Yeah, I saw this pose and thought it would look great on you," he explains, his tone confident.

You take a deep breath, feeling a surge of nerves and excitement as you strip off your shirt and bra, leaving you with just the jacket. Clutching the picture in your hand, you mimic the pose, trying to channel the same confidence and allure as the model in the photo.

As you hold the pose, he snaps away with the camera, capturing the moment from every angle. "Perfect," he murmurs, a hint of admiration in his voice as he reviews the shots.

Suddenly, Mingyu's voice breaks the silence, pulling you out of your reverie. "Now, how about we try something a little more daring?" he suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. "Oh? That would be?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Mingyu hands you another picture from the folder, his gaze intense as he meets your eyes. "I want you to remove the jacket and just cover your chest," he says, his voice low and husky with desire.

You swallow nervously, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. With trembling hands, you remove the jacket, leaving your chest exposed as you cover yourself with your arms.

Mingyu watches you intently, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he captures the moment with his camera. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he continues to snap away.

But he's not done yet. "Turn around," he instructs, his voice firm but gentle. "Place your hands behind your back, in your pockets."

You obey his command, feeling a thrill run through you as you follow his instructions. The cool breeze brushes against your exposed breasts, sending a shiver down your spine as your nipples harden in response.

Mingyu continues to photograph you, you can't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through you. This photoshoot has taken an unexpected turn, but you find yourself embracing the moment, eager to see where it leads.

As you stand there, feeling a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty, you hear Mingyu's voice behind you. "You look really stunning," he murmurs, his words sending a thrill down your spine.

You turn to face him, a faint blush tinting your cheeks as he moves closer, reaching out to adjust your hair with gentle fingers. His touch sends a shiver of anticipation racing through you.

Mingyu then leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Why don't we go all out?" he whispers, his voice low and husky. "Why don't you take off all your remaining clothes? We can recreate the birth of Venus. You already look perfect, so let's give it a go."

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you consider his proposal. His eyes are dark with desire, burning with a hunger that mirrors your own.

In that moment, you feel a surge of courage coursing through you. With a nod, you take a deep breath and begin to remove your remaining clothes, baring yourself to him completely.

You stand there, vulnerable and exposed, you can't help but feel a sense of liberation washing over you. Mingyu's eyes drink in every inch of your naked form, his admiration evident in the way he looks at you.

As the last click of the camera signals the end of the shoot, Mingyu's words bring you back to reality. "It's done," he declares, his voice filled with satisfaction as he sets the camera down on the table.

With a sense of relief, you start to gather your clothes, eager to cover yourself and return to some semblance of normalcy.

But before you can fully clothe yourself, Mingyu's voice stops you in your tracks. "Wait," he says, his tone commanding yet gentle.

Confused, you turn to look at him, your hands still clutching your clothes to your chest. His eyes are filled with lust as he walks towards you, a hunger burning within him that sends a thrill through your veins.

You swallow nervously as he cups your face in his hands, his touch sending electric sparks dancing across your skin. Closing your eyes, you lean into his touch, anticipation building in the air as you wait for his next move.

And then it happens. Mingyu leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle caress. It's a slow, languid kiss, filled with passion and thirst as you melt into each other's embrace.

Feeling emboldened by the intensity of the moment, you drop your clothes, wrapping your arms around Mingyu to deepen the kiss. His response is immediate, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as he pulls you closer, his desire evident in every touch.

With a soft gasp, you feel Mingyu's hand on his pants, lowering them along with his boxers to let his cock free. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him aligning it along your entrance, the anticipation sending a shiver of excitement coursing through you.

As Mingyu slides his length inside you, you let out a soft moan, the sensation of him filling you completely overwhelming your senses. His hands wrap around your butt, lifting you effortlessly off the ground, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him, clinging to him tightly as he begins to move.

With each thrust, he sets a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You find yourself moving in sync with him, using your arms to pull yourself up and down on him, your legs squeezing his waist to grip him tighter.

His lips find yours in a passionate kiss, adding an extra layer of intensity to the already electric atmosphere. You lose yourself in the moment, the world fading away as you focus solely on the feeling of Mingyu inside you, the rhythm of your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

As you reach your climax together, the pleasure crashes over you in a tidal wave, your bodies trembling with the force of your release. Pressing your foreheads together, you lock eyes with Mingyu, sharing a moment of pure connection as you cum together inside you.

Still clinging to him, he squeeze your ass, the sensation sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Mingyu's words break the silence, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. "If this is what you meant for being a guinea pig," he says, his tone teasing yet sincere, "then count me in for every experiment."

Laughing at his playful remark, you reluctantly unwrap your legs from around him as he gently sets you back down on the ground. Despite the lingering warmth of your connection, you know there are practical matters to attend to.

"Shower sounds amazing right now," you say with a grin, feeling a sudden pang of hunger as you remember the food Mingyu brought. "And food too, definitely food."

Mingyu nods in agreement, a smile playing on his lips as he reaches for your hand. "Lead the way," he says, his voice soft and reassuring as he follows you towards the bathroom.

As you step into the shower together, the warm water cascading over your bodies, you can't help but feel a sense of intimacy and closeness with Mingyu. The simple act of washing each other's skin becomes a tender gesture of care and affection, deepening the bond between you.

After the shower, you wrap yourselves in towels and make your way to the kitchen, where you find the food Mingyu brought earlier waiting for you. Sitting down at the table together, you share a meal.

You then started to set up your laptop to export the pictures from the photoshoot, eager to see the results of your collaboration. As you browse through the images, you can't help but feel a sense of pride at the work you've created together.

With a satisfied smile, you lean back in your chair, feeling grateful for the day you've shared with Mingyu. As you look at him, a sense of warmth fills your heart, knowing that you've found someone who's willing to go on this journey with you, one photoshoot at a time.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

[444rockstargf]

₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ "𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡." | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: female!reader x spencer

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 777

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: smut, unprotected p in v, doggystyle, creampie, overstimulation, slightly implied aftercare, not proofread

when spencer reid fucks, he fucks.

it was nearly impossible to comprehend. the BAU’s genius, the one who beamed like a ray of sunshine and wouldn’t hurt a fly, turning you into a sobbing mess with the rapid thrust of his hips into your cervix? you would’ve laughed at the thought a few hours ago. now here you were, your face shoved into his pillow as he slammed himself into you, taking slight pleasure in the sounds of your muffled whimpers.

his veined hands dug into your bruised hips, the chestnut hairs on his head falling in tufts over his flushed face. he had seven and a half inches stirring within the gummy walls of your hole, his balls slapping against your puffy clit over and over again.

spencer’s lips glistened with juices of arousal as his groans echoed through the room. “m-my god, y-you’re losing it, aren’t you baby..?” he taunted, managing a breathy little laugh as you whimpered in response. he pulled out his cock, mainly to get a reaction out of you. your cunt fluttered around the absence of his rod, your hips rocking back desperately to feel him in your again.

he hissed, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he dragged the tip of his dick along your sticky entrance, coating it in your cum. you let out a laboured, shaky breath as he gave you a few wet slaps, pushing himself back into you inch by inch at a time.

you were a mess, your tears and spit saturating the pillow underneath you. not to mention how swollen you were getting from the relentless abuse on your hole, but you couldn’t complain. he had shoved his fingers into your mouth, anyway.

you could feel his neatly-trimmed v-line slam against the sore flesh of your ass each time he buried himself inside of you. a string of curses slurred from his lips, his grip on your hips only getting tighter with each passing second. your vision had gone hazy hours ago, your body completely submitting to his newfound dominance.

“i-i… i can’t, s-spence..!” you stammered out just as he began to rub sloppy circles on your clit with his long fingers. you rolled your hips against him, chasing an orgasm that seemed just within your reach. your pussy convulsed around his girth, making him toss his head back as a deep groan erupted from his gut. the lewd noises of skin slapping together quickly drowned out the groans, whimpers, and pleas. “c’mon, baby. j-just like that… use me…”

and you did. you ground against him, wanting to feel him in every way possible. sweat cascaded down the valleys and crevices of both of your bodies, adding additional heat to the steamy atmosphere. his cock twitched and throbbed as his balls swelled with the overwhelming presence of cum.

you were so, so close that it almost hurt. the sensations buzzing in your body were reaching an all-time high, bubbling over like a pot of boiling water. you buried your face into the pillow to hide your sobs, but spencer took a handful of your hair to pull you back up. “i wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make when you cum… c-can you do that for me, baby..?” you were helpless to denying his request. the line between reality and whatever heaven felt like were becoming blurrier as he finally found that bundle of muscles deep inside of you.

your body jerked, and there it was. you let out a moan so pornographic as cum gushed out of you that spencer couldn’t help but blow his load while he was shoved inside of you. he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood as he hastily began fucking you again, his thrusts lacking all their usual composure.

he wanted to drag out this orgasm. to make it better than you could ever fathom. even through this time of weakness for him, his motions were perfect and precise. the speed of his fingers, the rhythm of his thrusts, it was all hypnotic and you quickly found yourself reaching a stage of overstimulation. 

your body quaked and trembled as he milked every last drop of cum out of you, giving your pussy a few more flicks before finally pulling out, a thick white string of cum connecting your bodies before snapping. you collapsed onto the moistened bedsheets, spencer joining you and wrapping an arm around your waist as you panted like starved animals.

you were lying in a puddle of cum, your body still spasming as shaky breaths slipped from your mouth. and all this was because of the BAU’s genius, spencer reid.

[nogodsnomorales]

Know that I am going to get pretty serious here, as this post is about Punkflower. I am going to talk about the age situation, the blatant racism ABOUT this ship, and to also talk about the ship itself*. There is also some talk about the shippers/non-shippers + Punkflower antis in general.

[*nothing negative! just like.. discussing it as a whole, because everybody needs to be aware of some important things. the shippers, non-shippers/people on neutral ground, AND the haters/antis.]

There is a BIG wall of text incoming, but all of it is organized to its very best at what I could do!! I first wrote this in docs, I did my best to make it not a whole chaotic mess to read through. It's a big post, but there's a lot of spacing and some text is coloured, so it will be very easy to read.

This is a very detailed and THROUGH post, so it is slightly recommended to read on computer for the best viewing experience.

[It's not needed as you can still just read on your phone/etc, I do want you lovely people to have the best viewing experience possible.]

There will be an expand button, so I will not clog your feed and the tags.

TDLR;

Dear punkflower shippers,

your prayers have been ANSWERED. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT SHIPPING PUNKFLOWER NOW 🙏

punkflower shippers, do not live in fear no more, for I am here now.

Sincerely, 

tumblr user: godunforgiving

Edited Note (06/21); FYI, I am muting this! Read the edit change log at the end of this post for more information. If you have any concerns or inquiries regarding this post, do not hesitate and feel free to DM me!

punkflower talk/analysis(?) + talking about Hobie’s age

This entire post is a discussion of various things, of my own thoughts and opinions! Some of the talk is about the posts + comments I have seen other people say about this ship [mainly questioning and worried ones.] All of the pieces of information that I knew were scattered, so I wanted to gather all of what I could find, and put it in a singular post for those still worrying.

[Also where others can actually just refer to this post and just read thru here first, instead of having to spend a lot of time going through the Punkflower tag to desperately find info!]

I would have gotten this finished and posted days ago, but you know, usual IRL things slowed me down, and I had to spend my day in the ER yesterday, lol.. I’m okay as of now! Just have to take it easy, but I really did want to finish writing my ass off with this post, since I know it’s important to me and for many others out there.

Take your time to read through this, and please absolutely feel free to add any of your input/extra knowledge/anything that I should add onto this post. DMs can be the best, or just through the comments can suffice, because I can and will edit anything into this post [that is accurate aka there is backed up evidence/sources to go along with it.] If you do want to see something added here, just tell me and I'll see if I can manage!

I genuinely hope that this post can be helpful to you, as it will be helpful for me!

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Please know that; I will directly quote from many people, as all of them will be credited properly by being mentioned down below and leaving their username (that is linked back) with their respective quotes, because their own pieces of text really helped build this post! I cannot thank each person enough.

Do not be a piece of shit and go after or ‘witch hunt’ any of them. Respect their own privacy and being.

users mentioned (IOOA): @comfortingnightmare, @luvvnobo, @ghostspider-isms, @saltylemonade13, @artisan-is-bored, @bellamer, @uglynavel, @peachypea0ny (fyi, site is not allowing me to tag), @crownecromancer, @raspberryjars, @spideyzpoolsp, @hamiltonforpowerpoint

[If you are one of the mentioned people, and you want yourself to be removed or become anonymous, please let me know ASAP!]

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Notes:

If you are colourblind (some of the text is coloured fyi! colours used are blue, pink, and purple), or have difficulty reading text due to it being too small, or can't read the font, etc, please let me know! I can give you a google docs link of this entire post that is best suited for your needs. No, you will not be a burden to me. Your needs are very important, and I will want to assist with the best that I can do with that!

I, godunforgiving, am on a mix of a positive + neutral ground on the topic of shipping Punkflower. I absolutely adore the comic!Punkflower, and I am fond of ATSV!Punkflower with the way I view it. Reason why I said neutral, know that I am not against the ships by any means!! But I guess why I say that is because there wasn’t a lot of canon media to consume [ATSV!Punkflower], and I want more [Also note that I have NOT seen the movie yet.] I don’t usually ‘do’ shipping when it comes to various franchises, I guess it’s mainly just not my thing? But I do know that I’ve come to like Punkflower.

I do not ‘do’ discourses, nor do I intend to actively join them! This is my first time doing something like this / this being my first ‘discourse’, yet I hope for it to be my last. I made this post with the pure intention to help the Punkflower shippers. Do know that!! I know that many people do not like the topic of discourses, but this one and the problems I’ve seen revolving around Punkflower, I just have to say something. Bc idk if anybody else is going to [with the way I did this post], considering the mess that occurred days ago, but someone has to and has to do it properly.

I am autistic, so I may process words + information differently, or even ‘incorrectly’. So if a sentence doesn’t make sense, due to perhaps my misuse of grammar, etc, please do not hesitate to ask/reach out, and I can do my best to re-explain it to you.

Negative comments [and comments directly to this post where the person is actually spreading misinfo], will be deleted. Know that if you decide that you disagree with this post, then okay! I am not bothering you, just as I hope that you will revert to ignoring me, instead of hating on me. Please have the common decency to just be kind or even don’t say anything at all, and carry on with your day.

If you have any concerns regarding this post, do not hesitate to reach out to me.

this post was originally inspired by a friend, then originally created for @feuille-morte, but it is finished for the rest of the punkflower fans, ily all. take care of yourselves!! anything for these cute silly little guys ok (and the entire punkflower nation)

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let’s get started with an introduction.

“what is Punkflower?”

Punkflower is a slash [aka queer] relationship between two black male teenagers, Hobie Brown and Miles Morales. Usually, it is perceived a romantic relationship, as some other people only see the pairing as a platonic duo and such. I do not know more forms of Punkflower, but I will use the 'main' two forms in this post. Comic![SG!]Punkflower [SG is Spider-Geddon, a comic series first released on Sept 2018], and Across the Spider-Verse aka ATSV!Punkflower.

Think of it as the same ships with the same characters, but in different fonts.

Comic!SG!Punkflower has existed for nearly 5 years now, likely first existing sometime in late 2018 to early-mid 2019. Both Miles and Hobie are very close in age in the comics, at around 16 to 17 years old. Away from Spider-Geddon(?), but still on the topic of comics, Hobie is still 16-17 in the comics.

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“people are saying Punkflower is a problematic ship!”

The main [and probably only] source of this misinformation, is from a clip that was cropped to be posted with the intention of spreading heavy misinformation (We will get into that next.) So, as far as I am aware, and know; Punkflower antis are throwing around p/do allegations, because they hate the ship and they are outraged with people enjoying it. This hate is clearly rooted with racism, and homophobia. So, no, Punkflower is not a minor x adult ship!

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“the interview talk, what happened, and what is actually real?”

If you’ve watched the interview, you can easily see that they were talking about the brainstorming process of developing Hobie's early ideas for his character. A director mentioned that in the early concept stage, Hobie was originally going to be 19-20 [This wasn’t even our Hobie, but Prowler Hobie.]

A person cut a very small clip of the mentioned interview, and uploaded it, a clip that was EXTREMELY out of context. 

The uploader cut out the part explaining that Hobie’s ‘original’ age had changed as his character was being developed.

So from this, and no context given, a lot of people were instantly quick to hate; since it was on purpose to make the entire ship, AND those who enjoyed the ship, look extremely bad. What happened was not okay, yet this disgusting behaviour is at an attempt to be justified [and those people are trying to justify literal racism and homophobia.]

“19-20 thing that the directors mentioned were Hobie’s early designs ideas but those eventually changed as his character changed. Even one of the directors said its up to interpretation plus even his VA was all hinty towards Gwen and hobie so honestly its up to you what his age is" - comfortingnightmare

As soon as the clip came out, I had started to see a number of people saying that, apparently, Hobie looked like he was in his 20s to his 30s** (while also throwing subtle/discreet hits towards the Punkflower ship), but this was after the clip came out.

**Literally saw someone on Tumblr say that he looked like 28, and trying to shut down the idea of Hobie being a teenager. Like be completely serious with me right now..

Things don’t quite add up here. This was because of WHAT Hobie only looked like, and now it just has to be racially motivated, as there are no solid explanations or reasonings for their behaviour and disgust. Those people just look bad [as they should.]

So, no, Hobie is not 19-20. Another director had confirmed that Hobie’s age is UP TO INTERPRETATION.

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[TLDR; The interview got taken completely out of context from a clip that made people start throwing SERIOUS accusations left and right.. Since more people actually later found out that the clip was taken out of context [instead of doing research], the situation died down, but people are walking on eggshells now. The haters were being desperate likely because Punkflower is a black queer/mlm relationship, since there is no solid explanation for this hating.]

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“So.. what can we interpret Hobie’s age as?”

That is where I come in! I have many reasons that can help you decide what Hobie's age is to you. And those many reasons are speculated on Hobie's age being 16-17, as many users already guess that Hobie's age is equivalent to a teenager's age. I also believe this idea, as there are many things that already support this thought process.

[But if you like.. (god, I hope nobody does) go through this list and conclude that Hobie is 18+ and continue to ship that Hobie and 15 yr old Miles (or any of the minors).. GTFOH.]

1. Hobie Brown in other media (I’m talking about the comics for instance) is commonly shown for Hobie to be a teenager at either 16 or 17 years old.

“Hobie is in fact labeled as ‘badmouthed teenager’ since 2014 and is 16-17 in the comics and that just because he doesnt have a confirmed/canonical age in ATSV, hes still in the age range of a teenager (16-18)" - luvvnobo

2. Topic of the spider-bite. 

ATSV!Hobie is likely to be 16-17 years old (18 at the latest), meaning that he would have been bit at the ages of 13-15. So IF Hobie was bit 3 years ago / at 14 years old, then he would be 16-17.

Realistically, this really could have happened, considering Hobie’s living conditions! [aka what led to Hobie getting bit by a radioactive spider in the comics.] If he indeed gets bit at 14 years old (like how Miles and Gwen got bit at that age for example), then either 16 or 17 yrs old.

Again, with how he lived; if he got bit at 13 = 15-16 years old in crrnt events of ATSV. [If you don’t know of Hobie’s conditions, in the comics I’m pretty sure he, like, basically lived on the streets as a homeless teenager]

“During the "Spider-Verse" storyline, the Earth-138 version of Spider-Man is revealed to be Hobart Brown, originally operating as Spider-Punk. He is a homeless teenager who was transformed by a spider that was irradiated as part of President Norman Osborn's toxic waste dumping.” - Spider-Punk: Wikipedia

The topic of the bite / needing to know if Hobie was (x) age when he got bit, isn’t very serious, as he is already grouped with 3 kids.

3. It would be unlikely (and also weird) for a four man crew to be 3/4 teenagers and 1 adult;

WHILE ALSO implying that the mentioned ‘adult’ and one of the mentioned teenagers could’ve had something going on. [Even if nothing really happened (keyword = implying), and how Pavitr treated it in that way, implies that Hobie isn’t that much older than the three.] [I would have kept this reason combined with the Spider bite topic aka reason No.2, since it’s actually referenced off of pastelnightgale’s post, just that this paragraph alone is solid enough as a separate reason.]

4. Hobie’s mannerisms.

Note, I haven’t seen the movie, but I have seen many clips. From those clips, he’s definitely a teenager at least, it made me feel like Hobie was 16 or 17 years old. I’ve asked two of my brothers; they said that he definitely was their age [both being 17.]

“my two cents on the age debate is like. hobie doesn’t have the vibes of an adult even if his age is up to “interpretation”. like i’m eighteen and bro has definitely gotta be younger than that. he makes my “stupid younger sibling” sense go haywire." - ghostspider-isms

5. If you look up “how old is hobie brown”

You will already see many people speculating that Hobie is likely to be around the same age range as Miles and Gwen [if not a bit older.]

Again, Hobie is already 16-17 years old in the comics. 

“in the spiderverse, we have seen that it is common for most spiders (gwen and miles specifically) to get bitten around 14. hobie states he’s been spider-man for three years, meaning he’s most likely 16-17." - artisan-is-bored

6. “Like if Hobie is really 19+ then why is it only a problem with Punkflower?? Wouldn’t the whole love triangle thing be a problem????" - saltylemonade13

Yes. It would be a SERIOUS problem. It also would make the other ships [Chaipunk, others with minors in them] very problematic and illegal ships. But Hobie isn't 18+.

7. Ageing down process happening to various characters in Spider Verse, and Hobie non affected?

If Gwen and the other spiders are aged down in Spiderverse, then it doesn’t make sense that Hobie was not aged down like the others.

8. Hobie literally hangs out around teenagers.

If an adult is constantly hanging out with other children, then that obviously would be the first problem. I wouldn’t really need to keep talking any more about this one. Because if a 19-20 year old was spending a majority of his time around young teenagers, ages ranging 15 through 17, and not really with anybody else his age or above, then yes, that’s already weird.

“it’s also implied that miles is jealous of gwen and hobie. why would the directors make a key plot point of the story be that hobie is a grown ass man hanging out with a bunch of teenagers? and that he might have a thing with one of them???" - artisan-is-bored

9. Genetics do not matter within age.

This is one of my most common quotes by now. Hobie is indeed very tall at almost 6 ft, yes. No, it does not mean that he is above 18+ years old. Hobie can be over 6 ft tall and still be 16-17 years old.

I have seen so many teenagers at drastically different heights, but still be the same age. Many of them being over 6 ft [180 cm], and still being in my age range, and having met a 5’10” 8th grader [aka 13 yrs old] years ago. Both of my previously-mentioned brothers are 6 ft and over 6 ft, yet they are only 17.

“people can look one age and be another." - artisan-is-bored

“hobie’s description as a character. hobie is a foul mouthed TEENAGER. that has been his description for the past five years." - artisan-is-bored

10. “how do i tell them Punkflower has been a thing since 2018 or 2019 and they have interacted in the comics (they are close in age)" - luvvnobo

11. “He has to be an adult, because he goes to pubs!!” Let’s be absolutely HONEST here.

“dude is BFF’s with the Riri of his universe, she can probably whip up a fake ID in no time and even if Riri isn’t in the Spiderverse, he still gets around and knows people. he’s definitely cool with someone who makes fake ID’s." - bellamer

What bellamer said. To add onto this, a pub is different from a BAR as well.

If you look up “what is a pub vs bar” your first result will be this.

To also add, all bars in England aren’t considered pubs.

“If you’re 16 or under, you may be able to go to a pub (or premises primarily used to sell alcohol) if you’re accompanied by an adult. However, this isn’t always the case. It can also depend on the specific conditions for that premises. It’s illegal to give alcohol to children under 5." From the official GOV of the UK website

But literally, let’s be honest here, Hobie would already know at least one person who will help him get in a pub, if he cannot do so himself. If Hobie is constantly going to pubs, then that does not mean he is getting drinks 24/7 when he is there, unless stated otherwise. Pubs focus on serving food and to give drinks [upon request] to go along with the meal.

Before 1995, children under the age of 14 were NOT allowed in pubs in England and Wales. And Hobie is definitely by no means 14. He is likely 16, or 17. He can already drink, with adult supervision, at 16 in pubs. But we know that Hobie is no law-abiding Spider-man.

12. “Hobie wouldn’t be able to own his own place!”

“it’s a key part of hobie’s comic backstory that he used to be homeless. once again, the breaking the law point still stands. wouldn’t be surprised if hobie bought an apartment with a fake ID, was squatting, or was staying in some sort equivalent of the community center that he used as his main group’s operation headquarters in the comics.” - artisan-is-bored

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I do not think that another director/anybody who worked on the movie will come out and say that Hobie is actually 18+ at this point. I CAN be wrong in the future, but right now, he is not, and there are my reasons for why I strongly agree with the idea of Hobie being a teenager.

ALTHOUGH, even IF a director comes out and says that ATSV!Hobie is actually 18+, obviously all of the ATSV!ships with him and the other minors should STOP RIGHT NOW. But as of now [06/13/23 (when I first wrote this)], and from what we already know, I do not see anything wrong with ATSV!Punkflower and my views.

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The racism revolving Punkflower is disgusting.

I’ve seen a lot of people bashing Punkflower when the whole misinfo-hobie-being-19/20-situation occurred, but ONLY with Punkflower [from what I’ve seen.] I didn’t see any of this happening to the other ships that Hobie is in / shipped with Gwen, and Pavitr.

I have not seen any, quite literally nobody, complaining about any other ship that isn’t Punkflower, and it’s insanely overwhelming and confusing?? People don’t complain when it comes to Hobie x Gwen, but if it’s with two queer black boys? Huge problem all of a sudden.

“Love how when it was Hobie and Gwen no one batted an eye but as soon as people started shipping two black males together all of a sudden everyone’s disgusted and outraged” - uglynavel

“none of y’all had a problem w gwen and hobie, but when hobie started getting shipped with miles and pav? y’all got pissed. get your racist and homophobic head out of your ass. even if hobie IS an adult in the movie, that still doesn’t mean that shipping him with miles in the comics suddenly isn’t valid. newsflash, gwen is MUCH OLDER than hobie in his universe.” - artisan-is-bored

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Other quotes, that I wanted to point out, but I didn’t sort them into a spot;

“There are a lot more weird problems in the ATSV fandom, yet people are worried about Flowerpunk and whether Hobie is of age, or not. Those problems are full on grown ass people sexualizing Miles, Gwen, and likely more. There’s already stuff about Peter B. and Miles ship, and THAT is an active problem on hand. More people need to worry about all of that instead of a guy who has an up-to-interpretation age (but is strongly, likely, a 16-17 year old if not an adult.)” - peachypea0ny

“I can’t even enjoy comic versions of punkflower without me being called a pedo or having multiple fucking comments telling me over and over that punkflower is a proship.” - uglynavel

“I’m sorry it’s just really not fucking fair what In THE ACTUAL MOVIE it can imply something between Gwen and Hobie but the SECOND people started shipping two black boys together then it became a huge fucking problem, here’s the thing if Hobie is actually older and they never say that in the movie but imply something to the audience that him and a sixteen year old girl could possibly have something between them THEN THATS GROSS I DONT CARE HOW GOOD THE MOVIE IS! But Hobie is always, in other crossovers and his comics he is around 16, he has met Miles before in canon the ship’s not new, it was just small.” - crownecromancer (Edited to make sense, by me, godunforgiving.)

“punkflower is originally a comic ship, its been around for ages before atsv, its normal for shippers to crossover into different areas where the same characters are. he doesnt have an age on his wiki and why would he be said to have a love triangle with gwen if he WAS 19/20, idk why ppl have such a problem with punkflower but not with hobie and gwen??” - raspberryjars

“this is what happens when you believe in misinformation on the internet. no, there is no age gap, because hobie does not even have a canon age. if you watch the interview, instead of 10 seconds of it, he says it was early concepts of hobie. another director has confirmed his age is up to interpretation.. so. yall rlly need to stop with this, its weird asl. this whole thing was rooted in racism and homophobia, stop spreading misinformation I BEG.” - spideyzpoolsp

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Another disclaimer/notice;

PLEASE, PLEASE STOP BELIEVING IN EVERYTHING THAT YOU SEE!! EVEN IN TIKTOK OR TUMBLR!

IF it’s a piece of information that could be misinformation revolving around Punkflower or Hobie Brown, or anything, DO find out if it is real or fake asap!

I’m using a method that I remember from my elementary school that was constantly talked about [can’t believe I’d bring it up in a post about a ship years later], however it really does pay out and work anywhere else tbh. The “Stop, Think, Act method”.

STOP = Pause, if it distresses you; then take a breath to calm down, avoid doing anything on impulse aka don't do anything without thinking carefully beforehand.

THINK = Instead of the “what is the problem, what are the options, best path forward?” in the method itself, we will reuse this but change stuff up that can apply directly to this post. So after stopping and calming down, we will think carefully and review what we already KNOW. If it’s where the piece of information is easily seen/known as misinfo, then you are good. If the piece of misinfo is affecting something that we already know, then we move onto the next step.

ACT = “Proceed with the best option. Act carefully, and revise if needed.” The best option forward from thinking, is to do research, and make sure that it is actually real, and not misinformation with lies laced within. IF it is indeed misinformation, then it is the best to alert others, with proof.

If you are thinking “But why even mention that method??” The best example to use this method is with the age discourse blowup. A LOT of people believed in the misinformation very, very fast. What should’ve happened is that the mentioned method should’ve occurred early, to help prevent most of the freak out and its damages. But many users may not have thought of that, or even know the method, so it is okay. At least it calmed down a lot as of now, just that people are now likely afraid.

[Note; I am NOT blaming anybody!! I also freaked out a bit too, but I stuck to what I already knew, until I found more information. At first I heard “Hobie is 19-20!!!!” I figured that it must’ve been misinfo through what I already knew, because adding all of what I knew and this uproar of info, it just didn’t add up from what I alrd knew. but I still researched and did my homework!! Just that more people should naturally second-guess things that they are suspicious of and also be aware of that method and to apply it online, as it is already useful in real life!]

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Wrapping this post up, finally.

It’s sad to see different Punkflower fans fight each other. But it’s also outrageous and annoying to see the plat!Punkflower shippers, who see Miles and Hobie strictly in a brotherly relationship, to throw the term ‘!ncest / pseudo-!ncest’ against the romantical Punkflower shippers.. Like holy shit, that doesn’t make you any better. Can people, please, stop throwing serious accusations against other people so nonchalantly?

These accusations are SO serious and life changing, even if it's pointed at the wrong person. But people are just too ignorant to realize that unfortunately.

“You see him (Hobie) as 19/20 who’s a big brother to the other spiders? Cool! You see him as 16/17 rebel teen amazing!” - hamiltonforpowerpoint

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End post.

Reblogs, likes, and comments of your own opinions of this post are so welcome!

Again, ily all and take care of yourselves!!

and again, if anything you think that should be added onto the post, let me know! have a great day everybody

A friend asked what’s up with the discourse, asked me to make a post, after hours of research - I absolutely fucking DELIVERED. Love you guys.

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Edit #1 (06/15); had to reformat some things since it just looked broken to me! Using the editor on mobile is a PAIN.. 0/10.

Edit #2 (06/16); an edit update! I rewrote some things (to hope to make the post sound more better), added some stuff in the notes section and some throughout the post itself, updated the crediting so the quotes used are credited and linked back to hell!!!! bc crediting others is awesome! and the post is also def over 4.2k words lol

Edit #3 (06/17); An anon told me that I was “misusing” the 'proship' term, so I edited the post. Proshitters can go to hell for all I care. To clarify, I am talking about problematic shippers. Edit #4 (06/19); oh my god 600+ notes?? i hope all of you are having an EXCELLENT month okay.. i love you guys <3 /plat

Edit #5 (06/21); I am muting this! I saw some people reply to this post, but I just do not have the ability to respond to them (Selective mutism), I did write “drafts” to them, but I do not feel like polishing it and responding. Just busy with other things, honestly! I may end up responding some time later, so yeah. If you have any concerns or inquiries regarding this post, do not hesitate and feel free to DM me!

Every once a few weeks I may check up on this post as well, until I stop altogether.

[comfortless]

Outside they say you’re alright (chapter 1 of ?)

🌱 PAIRING: König x fem!reader 🌾 CONTENT: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fae au. blanket warning for death, violence, very light horror elements <— comes with the territory; all of this being said it’s still cozy and sweet here!!, not even remotely canon compliant, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter specific warnings: animal death (bird), implied ghoap, minor character death (but not really, hold tight!), non-consensual cuddling. 🍃 NOTES: this is my first time writing in a long stretch, but after finishing Meeting the Other Crowd i had to write this lest i wound up chewing thru my own fist. later chapters may have additional warnings added. not proofread. wc: 7.9k

next ->

The season of turning leaves, of the harvest moon, of a waning veil; it feels as though the entire world calls for change. Packing to move feels less arduous when the very earth is moving along with you, shifting her shape to bring in the autumn, the winter. Autumn feels less intense in the city. Concrete and vehicles don’t naturally shed their skins, hibernate, bed down and cozy up by a warm hearth. There’s a significant lack of trees and wildlife, all uprooted and shed away to make room for more human comforts. It’s never felt like home to you.

It’s almost funny how in your desperation to be untethered from an unwelcoming, pristine and metallic skyline, you’ve managed to neatly pack away your entire life into a mere two bags. Everything that wasn’t utterly necessary or sentimental donated or tossed into the garbage behind your former apartment. You know it’s a silly thing to believe a new roof over your head in an unfamiliar town a few hours venture away will change your entire life, but just as the leaves turn you feel it’s your moment to follow suit.

Kate hadn’t made you pay anything in advance. No deposits, no frivolous faxing of paperwork, Kate had requested nothing but email correspondence, and perhaps that should have set off some instinctual alarm bell in your head. Yet, you had been in contact with this woman for weeks, and you hadn’t picked up on anything odd in the eloquent responses Kate had given. The woman answered all of your questions with ease, and even had the decency to ask if there was anything she could do to make the move more bearable.

You found Kate’s listing on craigslist of all places— a humble little ad showing off a barren room in a small cottage located in the middle of nowhere, some mountainside town down south that you had never heard the name of prior. It was impulse that led you to reach out, typing out a sloppily worded email in the midst of another sleepless night expressing your interest in the room and a few words about yourself. Kate didn’t waste any time with her response, declaring that she felt you would fit in well in the home and things progressed naturally. You had decided that you liked Kate already.

But nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting Kate Laswell.

As you park your little, beaten down sedan in the forested driveway, you takes a moment to calm your nerves. A six hour drive has left you feeling as though you’re in an entirely different world— around the midway point in your journey was the last time you had actually seen a town. There’s a sense of apprehension building, and yet it does little to fully snuff out the excitement.

The cottage laid out before you is off-white in color with a grayish-brown roof, blanketed by tendrils of hedera helix curling up each corner of the home and meeting in a cluster on the roof. The fence surrounding the property, wooden and worn seemed more decorative than any protection against anything getting in or out. ‘Quaint’ was the only word that seemed to come to mind as you step out of the vehicle and move to the trunk to collect your meager belongings.

And as the trunk of the vehicle slams shut, you’re met with the sight of a gentle-looking woman sprinting toward you from the cottage, a bright, welcoming smile on her face and an oversized yellow cardigan draped ‘round her shoulders. “So glad you made it,” Kate greets warmly. “Need help with your bags?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t bring much.” You reply, and for the first time in months, you feel your heart begin to settle in your chest. This was good. The stress of the city seemed to retract its claws from your shoulders the moment you take a good look at Kate and the cottage behind her. The woman is older, soft lines visible on her face. She was fragile looking like a twittering little bird, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she was much more than her stature. Maybe not a robin at all, but a red-tailed hawk instead. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the clothing she wore looked comfortable, a loose fitting white blouse, jeans, and the cardigan you wonder if she may have even knitted herself.

“Well, come in then. We’ll get you settled and have tea, or whiskey if you would prefer it.” Kate says with a wink, taking you by the hand and pulling you up the gravel-laden trail towards the door. Sparrows are nesting in the trees above, clover, sourgrass and wildflowers springing up in a viridian and brown blanket beneath your feet, and the dirt feels far more forgiving against the soles of your boots than the pavement of the city ever did. This already feels like home. “Just tea would be fine.”

Kate shows you around the cottage with pride, and you find that it’s entirely deserved. The home is immaculately tidy, albeit a tad cluttered. The woman had all sorts of strange baubles and crafts lining walls and shelves, books of all nature (even an extensive romance section you had found yourself drawn to, Kate had laughed at the sight of your eyes lingering on the spines as you read the suggestive titles), her furniture was all clean and patterned. Your room nearly brings you to tears. It was still rather empty, just as the pictures in the listing had suggested, with only a bed, dresser and vanity furnishing it. However, in the windowsill sits a blue planter with your name delicately painted on the front of it.

“A lily,” Kate informs you, smiling soft as you gaze down at the little green bulb in the pot. You ghost your fingertips over the rim of it as you tilt your head to look back at Kate, both confusion and gratefulness painting your expression. Kate’s smile doesn’t waver as she steps to your side and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. Her kindness has already made you trusting, and it seems with every action she takes you feel more at peace, as though Kate were merely an estranged aunt rather than a complete stranger. “I thought a lily might suit you. It might still be early enough for her to bloom.” You whisper a thanks, returning her smile with one of your own. The thoughtfulness of such a simple gesture warms your heart in a way that you hadn’t felt in some time. You make a mental note to read up on plant care to ensure Kate’s gift doesn’t go neglected.

She waits to lead you into the kitchen and dining area until after you had put away your things and have properly seen your room. The rooms are just as well cared for as the rest of the cottage, every item in its proper place, the sink cleared and a knitted doily placed in the center of the range. The table is what catches your eye most of all though— a fat loaf of fresh baked bread placed carefully on a platter next to small serving dishes filled with honey and jam, a tea kettle and two floral painted mugs set neatly just beside the display. It looks more like a painting than any meal you’ve seen before, far too accustomed to quick snacks and dull fast food bags. In the city, working so much just to ensure that you still had your apartment to come back to, the time it would take to prepare something even as simple as this was never something you could expend.

“This looks… it’s lovely, Miss Laswell,” You breathe out shyly, taking a seat at the table, your fingers flexing slightly. This kind of welcoming felt so foreign, not that you minded it. Not at all.

“Please just call me Kate.” She says with a laugh, pouring out a generous mug of tea for you and sliding it across the table as she takes place on the opposite end. Her smile is infectious, warming your heart and causing the corners of your mouth to tug upward, too.

“Kate.” You say aloud, committing it to memory. You wanted to be respectful. This was her home, you were just a temporary guest after all. You accept the mug of tea with a thankful nod of acknowledgement before taking a small sip. Warm. Everything about Kate’s home and her demeanor is so warm. Even in the midst of autumn, there’s no chill here, only tenderness and warmth as though some invisible hearth roars in the corner of every room. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Kate hesitates for a moment, and had you blinked you would have missed the way her thin shoulders seemed to tense and the lines at the corners of her mouth visibly tightened. She parts her lips to speak, eying you carefully before… she merely reaches across the table to slice you off a plump helping of the bread, scooting the bowls of jam and honey in your direction.

You wonder if somehow your words had offended her, and you wished you could retract them, snatch the fluttering of your voice from thin air, but as quickly as that thought comes, Kate sighs.

“Well, I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, dear,” Kate begins in a soft voice, tilting her head as she sips her own tea. Your eyes widen in surprise at her words, uncertain as to what weight they carry. Your thoughts immediately veer in the worst direction— perhaps she wasn’t offering the room as long as the listing stated, and you had no where else to go. Perhaps someone else lived here too, someone dangerous.

“What do you mean?”

“The neighbors come around sometimes.” She says, and it almost pulls a giggle from you. Neighbors? You hadn’t seen any other homes on the way up here, and having lived in an apartment complex you were used to all manner of folks, from the loud, the strange, the elderly and standoffish. You give her a little shrug in response, unsure of what to say to such a silly thing.

“You’ve just got to understand how to deal with them if you see them,” Kate continues, her mouth pressed to a thin line as she regards you. There’s that sharp look in her eye that suggests she really isn’t kidding around, that there may even be a threat if you didn’t hold what she says next with the highest regard. You feel a swell of unease, but give the woman your rapt attention, not even bothering with the bread on your plate despite the way your stomach grumbles, quiet but demanding. “Don’t eat their food, never give them your name. Don’t thank them either, even if you break your ankle on a hike and one stops to help. No thanking them.”

You laugh. This had to be some silly joke, harmless hazing for the new roomie. Your mirthful giggles die in your throat when you meet Kate’s gaze again and her expression is entirely grave— gone was the soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and you’re quickly reminded as to why you thought of a hawk when you first saw that look in her eye.

“Kate… I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She toys with the handle of her mug for a moment, watching as if to ensure your amusement has entirely died out before she graces you with another word. “Dear, I know I sound like I have bats in the belfry, but I need you to listen to me.” A heavy sigh leaves her lips after her words and her brow pinches as if she’s trying to consider the best possible way to explain this farfetched idea of her neighbors to you in a way that’s easy enough to digest without giving too much away. “Perhaps meeting one of them would be the best way to show you.” She mumbles as she sets her mug aside and stands from her chair. You remain dumbstruck in your seat, watching as she pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around herself before fumbling around in the kitchen to retrieve a small woven basket. Kate places two thick slices of bread inside and the little dish of honey too as you watch on.

“Sure.” You say with a quizzical tilt of your head. You didn’t want to insult your new roommate further, and she seemed deadly serious about this strange concept. Maybe it was best to appease her, and meeting other folks that lived out here didn’t seem like too arduous a task. Kate flashes you that smile again as you agree and offers the basket out to you. Your fingers curl around the stiff handle as you stand and bring it closer to your person.

“There’s a little walking trail out back that leads straight up the hill to the cemetery. Ghost should be there.”

“Ghost?” A ghost in the cemetery. How fitting.

Kate breathes a laugh and shakes her head. You’re pleased to see the tension has left her, she seemed at ease and just as sweet as she had when she rushed to greet you earlier. “Not really a ghost,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll see. He’s a bit… prickly at times, but he’s harmless enough. Just take him the bread and you’ll see.” Harmless, you want to tell her, is what most people should be expected to be without graceful description. ‘Are the others harmful, then?’, your mind supplies, as if trying to make you feel closer to a side character in some low budget horror film. Something was certainly off here, but you don’t find yourself questioning it further.

Kate leads you to the back door, unlatching a chain lock before unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. The hinges whine as she directs you toward the trail with a pointed finger. And, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, she pushes you out of the door. You can hear the tinkling of the chain and the thump of the deadbolt as she locks it behind her. You don’t know whether to side more with the anxiety building in your chest or the frustration burning at your stomach after finding yourself in this situation. So maybe Kate did have ‘bats in the belfry’ as she had called it. What woman would have invited a complete stranger to come live with her in the middle of no where, after all. But this was only your first day here, and you knew you had to make the most of it. Where else could you possibly go?

At least she was nice. The tea had been perfect, too. With a sigh, you decide to overlook her eccentricities for now as you start walking towards the trail. Your pace is brisk, orange and red fallen leaves crunching with each step as you meander up the thin, forested trail. The chill of an autumn breeze pushes through the trees with ease, shaking a flurry of dead leaves from dark branches to whirl around you, one landing gently on the shoulder of your coat. You pluck it off, twirling the stem between the fingers of your free hand as you walk.

The cemetery comes into view about half an hour later. The peaks of moss covered tombstones rise up over the hill, and you’re surprised to find that the old graveyard isn’t entirely overgrown. Some thorn bushes border the backside of the small clearing, trees towering so high to either side it almost roofs the area in entirely apart from a center circle where sunlight beams in. It’s quiet apart from the splintering of leaves beneath your soles and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard a sound not pulled from your own being since you started your short journey here.

You look around for this supposed ‘Ghost’ for a few moments, scanning both behind and above the tombstones. There’s nothing and no one to be seen, just a heavy silence and carpeting moss over stone that hasn’t been touched in what looked like centuries. You didn’t want to return too soon for fear of Kate not taking too kindly to it, you couldn’t run the risk of being cast out, even if the thought of her doing such a thing already felt uncharacteristic and outlandish.

So, you kneel in front of a larger headstone, fishing out a slice of bread from the basket and smoothing honey over it with the butter knife Kate had placed inside. The engraving was entirely illegible, worn away by the elements, and with so much moss encompassing it you doubt you could have read it anyway even if it hadn’t been so neglected. The bread, still warm and soft is nibbled at as you inspect some of the other graves, all in the same state of disrepair. A part of you wishes you had plucked some wildflowers on the walk, perhaps you could have given some restless spirit the satisfaction of not being forgotten.

A clipped ‘woof’ pries you from your thoughts, a deep and breathy sound that sends a chill down each bony knob of your spine as you whip around to face whatever had made the noise. You’re met with the view of a massive dog standing a mere three meters away. The animal’s fur was a coarse, wiry black, it’s eyes just as dark. It regards you with its ears flattened back against its skull, dark lips pulled back in a snarl, though it doesn’t growl. In fact, the creatures tail betrays this display of intimidation as it wags lazily behind it.

You break a corner of the bread off and extend your hand out to the dog, cooing softly to it and encouraging it to approach. The dog huffs, ears flicking forward. It watches you for several long moments before stiffly walking towards you, accepting the bread into its large mouth and swallowing it down without so much as a courtesy chew. Up close, you can’t discern what breed of dog this is at all. His ears were long and floppy, descending down past his maw, his hair looked stiff and rough almost like a wolfhound’s but it was much shaggier, longer.

“Good boy.” You chirp, reaching up to lightly ghost your fingers over the crown of the dog’s skull. The dog recoils with another huff, and for a moment you almost think you see his eyes narrow as if he were glaring at you— a silent ‘do not touch’. Your hand retreats and you mutter an apology out to the creature. The dog doesn’t move, standing still as a statue as it watches you fiddle with the handle of the basket and rise to your feet.

So, no Ghost, but you did meet a dog. That would have to do for now. You were exhausted from the drive, and more than anything you wanted to be in the warmth of a building, away from the volatile breeze and the eerie silence of the graveyard.

“Wait.” A voice rasps as you turn back to the trail. Everywhere and no where at once it comes and the feeling that arrives with it, so peaceful yet uncanny. Just like before, you don’t hear the dog approach, but you feel the cold of a wet nose press against your palm. His mouth opens, grazing your fingertips with his teeth as you whip your head around to look down at the creature, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. What?

You wrench your hand away from the dog, uncertainty sending a violent shiver down your spine. Surely the animal couldn’t’ve …

“F’me, wasn’t it?”

It’s not your mind playing tricks from the emptiness of the graveyard.

The dog spoke, rough and deep and accented.

The creature’s tail wags languidly behind him as he stares up at you expectantly, big paws placed firmly in a moss bed below with long, black claws curved into it.

“P-pardon?” You manage to breathe out, voice tight as your chest rises and falls rapidly with shallow, panicked breaths. This was impossible, you knew it. As a child you had spent countless hours trying to get your childhood pet to utter a single ‘I love you’ to no avail, and yet this dog before you seemed to find human speech as simple as inhaling or flicking his ears. The dog huffs, his dark eyes rolling, and you realize the animal does not simply speak, it finds you amusing too.

He noses at the basket, sniffling deeply at the food within before peering up at you in silent demand. You part your lips in a small ‘o’, lowering the basket to the mossy floor. The dog doesn’t spare you another glance as his tongue lolls out to lap at the dish of honey and draw the bread between rows of hungry teeth. He eats quickly and with all the grace of any normal canine, crumbs dotting the fur surrounding his mouth as he raises his head to regard you.

“You just… you spoke to me?” You question, your knees wobbling in surprise. Perhaps if he didn’t have the look of a cute dog, you would have been more fearful. “You talk?”

The dog tilts his head before sniffing at your boot for a moment only to raise his head back as he settles onto his haunches. The animals ears perk up, still flopping at the ends, almost covering his dark eyes.

“You smell like Kate.” He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. In fact, his entire body remains rigid and still, a graveyard statue blessed with the breath of life.

Something clicks as his words register. This isn’t just some extraordinary talking dog, this was the Ghost Kate had mentioned. Your eyes finally relax, there’s no more look of surprise, there’s no more unease. Having a talking dog for a neighbor seemed so much better than dealing with Mr. Thomson, stumbling back into the apartment complex after a long night drinking, singing his curses to the city, to the world itself.

Ghost was just fine.

Emboldened by this sudden realization, you reach out to the dog again. “Ghost,” you say with a hint of a smile. “You’re awful cute, aren’t you?” A giggle escapes you as you see he’s not moving away this time, but diligently sniffing at your hand. The dog pauses after a moment, flashing a hint of teeth at you. It’s not aggressive, you realize. Perhaps, he’s not the best with people.

“An’ you’re awful chummy, girl.” The dog snorts, turning his head away indignantly. So this one had a bit of an attitude, you let it roll off the shoulder. Surely he would warm up, talking or not, most stray dogs had a tendency to. You retract your hand and collect the empty basket and the dog gives you a slight nod in approval.

“I’ll walk ya back.”

— — —

The walk back to Kate’s cottage felt longer than the hike up to the graveyard. Ghost didn’t seem very keen on talking to you, despite his offer to escort you home. He padded in front of you with hurried steps, only circling back to nip at your heels every now and then if he felt you were trailing too far behind him. You didn’t yet know that there were other eyes in the forest observing the two of you. Each time a branch snapped behind or to either side of you, or when footsteps or laughter could be heard some distance away, Ghost would dart behind you to mouth at the leather of your boot with a low growl to keep you from looking at anything apart from the roof of the cottage as you approached.

After the third bite, with the cottage in full view you finally stop in your tracks, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, an air of annoyance to your tone as you note the indents of fangs in your boots— the only pair of shoes you had even brought with you, already covered in drool and bite marks by some magical dog you hardly knew.

Ghost snorts, dark eyes locked on your face as he circles back around you. “You’ve got lead in your head or your shoes girl, which is it?”

You puff your cheeks in a slight pout, half a mind to knock his fuzzy head with the basket in your hands. “Neither,” you mutter, carrying on towards the cottage. “Stop biting me.”

Ghost shakes his shaggy head, opting to press his mouth to your hand in a silent order to get you moving again. You oblige, leaving the dog behind as you make it to the back door of the small house. You knock once, and already hear the sounds of the locks unlatching just beyond the wooden door. The door swings open, and Kate stands there in silence. face paled.

Ghost lets out a low bark somewhere behind you as you wave him off. Kate smiles broadly at the dog before turning to look at you just as he scampers back up the trail, no doubt back to the graveyard he had appeared in.

“I apologize, dear,” she breathes out, ushering you back inside. She looks incredibly apologetic as she takes your shoulders and turns you around to face her. Her tone remains a cross between stern and reassuring, and you feel a swell of guilt, almost like you should be comforting her rather than the opposite.

You explain to her that Ghost didn’t frighten you, and she settles immediately, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return the basket to its proper place, stored on a shelf high up in the pantry as you tell Kate about your interaction with the strange, talking graveyard dog.

“Sounds like he likes you.” Kate responds followed with a soft laugh. You notice she’s cleared the table of breakfast, only neatly crocheted doilies in place of where the two of you had sat earlier that morning. “He wouldn’t speak to me the first day we met.”

You shake your head in protest, gesturing towards the marks from his teeth in your boot. “He bit me!” You whine, earning another laugh from Kate. You crouch down to untie your boots, pulling them off of your feet, the woman kneels next to you and pries the boots from your hands with gentle, aged hands. She runs her thumb over the indentations with a hum.

“I should be able to fix them.”

“Really?”

Kate nods, standing to her feet and offering you her free hand. You take it, straightening yourself out. The room smells of lemongrass and lavender, the flickering glow of a large candle placed neatly on a side table housing a few choice pieces of fine china.

You watch as Kate takes your boots to her room, no doubt where whatever supplies she deemed useful enough to fix them lay in wait. She returns roughly a half hour later with them graciously repaired, and you’re uncertain of how she’s managed such a feat to the extent she has— no more indentations, no scuffs on the leather. They look new, something you haven’t seen since the day you purchased them.

You thank her graciously with a little bow of your head and you and Kate fall into a comfortable conversation. She tells you that there are many others like Ghost, that some of them look human but aren’t, that some are no more than groaning shadows or looming abysses of fur and sharp claws. Kate diligently reiterates her rules from earlier, and though you weren’t quite sure you believed her entirely about the dangers of these ‘neighbors’, you nod along enthusiastically.

“So, if Ghost is just a dog, why doesn’t he live here? With you? Winter gets cold in places like this,” you breathe out, seated on the opposite end of the floral patterned loveseat next to Kate.

“Oh? He didn’t show you then.” Kate laughs. She’s brewed another kettle of tea and she dispenses the amber fluid between two mugs. “I suppose he didn’t want to frighten you off, but he’s no dog.”

Your eyes widen, and you’re uncertain as to why Kate’s words fill you with dread, a cold spike through the chest that sends a shiver down each ridge of your spine. Ghost hadn’t hurt you, of course. He didn’t even seem to be entertaining any idea other than eating and walking you home. Maybe a bit pushy, but otherwise a proper gentle…dog. Your head tilts, wordlessly asking Kate to fully explain what Ghost may have been hiding.

“He’s a big guy,” is all she says as she takes a long sip from her tea. You open your mouth to speak again, but all of a sudden the scent of tobacco fills your lungs, swirls around the entire room as though it was emanating from the walls itself. You stifle a cough with your palm pressed flat against your lips and Kate laughs. Yet, as you glance about the den, you see no one else. Paranoia? But Kate seemed to have smelled it too. “Not me, dear.” She says quietly.

“… what are they?” You question, voice wavering. The scent of tobacco seems to grow stronger then dissipate after a few moments only to return.

“The good folk,” comes Kate’s immediate reply as she stands, clapping her palms against her thighs with an exasperated sigh. She tilts her head to look down at you with a small smile. “This one’s nice enough, too. Don’t worry.” Despite the waves of scent that drift in and out of the room, nothing else seems to appear. With everything that’s happened today, a part of you expects to meet with a sentient cigarette at Kate’s words, but… nothing.

— — —

As the days pass, you and Kate fall into a sort of routine. The woman will tell you the most unbelievable things with a smile on her face, and you find almost too quickly that everything she says is true. This place feels holy in a sense. It’s no church, but things of myth seem to embedded themselves into the walls, singing like a choir in the dead of night. You swear you hear Kate talking to someone some nights, a man’s voice booming through the cottage. They share laughs and the scent of a cigar ebbs and flows, but every time you’ve tried to steal a peek at this visitor, he seems to vanish the moment you step out of your room. Maybe you would think him rude if you knew for certain he existed at all.

Your mind tends to play tricks after the stress of leaving behind everything you knew, uprooting your entire life to come here. On the second day, you lose your car keys. You had placed them on your nightstand and you knew it, but the following morning they were no where to be found. On the third night, you wake up on your side in bed, the sound of someone breathing deeply behind you sending a swell of dread from the base of your neck down to the heels of your feet. Sleep paralysis, you tell yourself, but you knew you had pulled the blanket a bit tighter around yourself when it happened, stealthily tried to move your foot to see if you could feel anyone. You could move, it had been real.

It’s on the fourth day that your heart sinks in your chest. You wake to morning light flooding through the curtains, the chirping of birds in the willow just outside of your window. As you sit yourself up and wipe at your eyes with the meat of your palms, you realize the potted lily Kate had gifted to you is gone. Plants don’t just get up and walk, using their leaves to tug up their pots as if it were trousers as they saunter away on thin, wiry root legs. You feel like your sanity is slipping when you check the window and realize it’s still locked. Even though the lily was just a plant, you feel a sense of grief at the fact you couldn’t find it anywhere— not beneath the bed, in any drawer, the closet or… anywhere in the cottage.

You finally give in and decide to ask Kate, to which she explains that this event isn’t uncommon. You expected her to be upset (with what you believed to be your own irresponsibility), but she remains kind as always, tells you it will turn back up when you least expect it and ushers you to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with you, coffee, omelettes and bowls filled with blackberries.

“You could try asking Ghost,” Kate offers, “He seems fond of you, perhaps he took it.”

You bite back the urge to ask her how a dog could have possibly broken into your room and stolen a potted plant. The very image of it seemed silly, a beast like him biting down on the clay pot to, what? Haul it off to rest it atop some long-forgotten soul’s grave? Instead, you toy with the eggs on your plate, still feeling a bit strange about the entire ordeal.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman speaks up again. The expression on her face, oddly sheepish, doesn’t suit her well. A silent ‘don’t leave’ buried beneath her words, written clear as day in the sullen look in her eyes.

The trek to the graveyard feels heavier this time around. The dog isn’t what has your skin crawling, it’s the ever-present feeling that something just beyond your field of view is lying in wait, eyes trained solely on your form. You swear you can feel a puff of breath on the back of your neck a time or two, almost causing you to trip over a cluster of fallen pine cones and other forest debris. It’s silent, as always, and as much as your eyes scan through fallen leaves and bent branches, you can’t make out the sight of anything scampering about, not so much as a squirrel or a proud cardinal. It’s strange how empty a place teeming with life can feel at times when something lurks coaxing the other creatures to silence lest they fall victim to sharp fangs. Even you, you find, have taken to subconsciously adjusting your strides as to not step on too many fallen leaves, avoiding twigs as though making a peep at all would be a death sentence.

Making your way to the hill littered in graves only makes it feel more certain, that steady drip of dread telling you that death was nipping at your heels. Though, a part of you considers that’s just Ghost’s presence. Black shulk, a keeper of fairy mounds, a harbinger of death.

You’re not met with the presence of a wiry-haired dog this time though, but a man clad in black, face concealed by the frontal bones of a human skull with all but the jaw mostly there. Tall and bulky, the thin fabric of a tunic barely concealing the rigid musculature beneath. There’s a moment of panic, so brief the swell and fall leaves you breathless, before you realize looking into those eyes that this was still the dog you had met before. Different, but still just as haunted and weary. There’s a misplaced sense of peace with Ghost; a wolf taking to shepherding a lamb rather than devouring it.

“Ghost?” You call to him, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, attention pulled from whatever duty he feels that he owes to this cemetery. Some instinctual guardianship, perhaps, rooted just as deeply in his fae blood as the pride and fear in your humanity.

“Yes?”

The dog, man, whatever he may be doesn’t seem to have a care that you see him as he is now, his focus returning to the same tombstone you had kneeled beside the day you met him, thick fingers roving over the mossy stone. He’s not clearing it away, you notice, merely looking it over and it dawns on you that perhaps, in some distant past that this was someone he once knew. Had he waited at their side during their end? Pressed his muzzle to their palm in a kiss of death? Your fingers twitch at your side as your feet move on auto-pilot, arriving at his side before you seat yourself next to him.

Ghost smells of sulfur, of pine and morning dew. Not death as you had expected. He smells of spring mornings and hazy summer afternoons, scorched earth and vibrant meadows all in one. Purgatory made flesh, a passerby between heaven and hell.

“Did you steal my lily?” The words seem entirely outlandish as they spill from your mouth, and you realize how stupid you sound the second he cocks his head to look you over beneath the skull concealing the majority of his face from you. He doesn’t have to give you an answer, really, because you know he didn’t take it, but he still gives you the courtesy of a slow shake of his head. “Well, it’s gone.” You say quietly, drawing your gaze away from him as you look to the tombstone before the both of you. You can see it now, the name. Johnny MacTavish.

“Don’t know anything about it,” Ghost utters, his dark eyes remaining trained on you, but his hand moves to the soil beneath his feet. There’s a certain reverence to his touch as he splays his hand across the earth. This ‘Johnny’ must have been important to him in some capacity. Not a kiss of death at all, you realize then. Whatever Ghost was, he had the propensity to love, to grieve.

“Oh.” You breathe soft, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him during such a sensitive time, but there’s some flicker in his eyes when you look up at him that suggests a semblance of gratitude that you’re here. “… you knew him?” Your force the question from your tongue, and Ghost merely turns his head to look at the stone before him, eyes somber as they trace over the engraved name as though he were reading poetry.

“That I did.”

You both sit in silence for a time. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him to haunt this place alone anymore, and a more rational part that tells you that he belongs here, tethered to this Johnny’s side for the rest of his days. Ghost seems less tense in your presence, almost soothed by the silence it seemed as his broad shoulders go slack and he pays his silent respects to this buried man by way of gentle touch and a barely contained softness in his eyes. The silence feels neither awkward nor unfamiliar, it’s as gentle as a breeze passing through. You picture what this man must have been like, to steal the heart of someone like Ghost, even in death. You don’t ask, despite the questions burning in your throat. In due time, perhaps.

An hour passes before you force up the will to leave him, and just like the last time, Ghost walks you home. There’s no more pushing, no ushering you to look forward or walk faster. The man would never voice it, but something about the way he looks at you now tells you there’s some newfound respect budding up in his chest like a wildflower.

The silence is only broken as you reach the door to Kate’s home.

“Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.” You whip your head around to question him, but find the man has already gone.

— — —

You return empty handed, noting that Kate’s car was no longer parked in the gravel driveway. A note on the refrigerator door reads ‘Out. Be back soon!’. It’s the first time that you’ve found yourself alone in the cottage, but you have the sense to tell you that you’re not entirely alone. Even the mottled white and blue wallpaper, some faux marble pattern, makes you feel as though you’re being watched, as though something you’re just not seeing is tucked away beneath those colors observing you with the eyes of a starved wolf.

And it’s quiet, it’s so quiet that it makes that unease grow. You’re repeating Ghost’s words in your head like a strange mantra.

Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.

Why didn’t he elaborate? Did he even know? Could he know?

The house settles, a floorboard creaks loudly and that’s enough to spur you to hide away in your room, at least until Kate returns.

Your room feels like small sanctuary as you shut the door behind you and let out a shaky breath. The calm is only interrupted when you notice the dead sparrow lying neatly atop your bedsheets, it’s wings spread out, feet tucked against its tiny body and it’s eyes closed. It looked peaceful, not brutally marred and yet the sight alone pulls a gasp from your throat as your eyes grow wide.

Something had been in your room. Someone had been in your room.

Was the dead bird a threat? A gift? You couldn’t be certain, but you glove your hands and bury it in the backyard, eyes carefully scanning the tree line every so often as a chill runs down each knob of your spine. You’ve heard mentions of the fair folk your entire life, in books and film, but those stories all felt so nonsensical and sweet compared to the here and now. Were they not supposed to simply be little people donning butterfly’s wings? Fluttering about thick oak trees and being birthed from flower bulbs? Kate’s ‘neighbors’ looked and felt the part of demons by comparison.

If not for Ghost’s existence, you would think this all was her doing, that perhaps she was more eccentric than you had realized. You’re scared, you’re alone here in the country, and it seemed as though these strange occurrences would just be your new day-to-day. As normal as a walk to the subway, as ordering your coffee from a local cafe. You pat the small grave with the spade once as you rise to your feet to head inside to wash your sheets.

— — —

You don’t remember falling asleep, memory only supplying you placing your sheets in the washer with a slight grimace on your face. But you wake, you wake to the dim light of the moon basking your room in a hazy, milky glow. You can feel the presence of a blanket covering your lower half, but you’ve hardly time to question how it got there at all.

A long, muscular arm curls around your middle, inviting in a cold, billowing wave of fear to wash over your bones. Ghost?, you wonder in silence, but the thought immediately dissipates as you feel the figure shift closer behind you, tucking you further against himself. Ghost was big, but this person was somehow larger. Impossibly so. You part your lips to scream, but not a sound comes out. You feel as though your voice itself has been snatched away from your throat. “Shh,” a voice hisses into your ear, the feeling of fabric moving over your face as the man behind you tilts his head to look you over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice continues, somehow both gravely and light as he speaks. It’s unfamiliar, entirely unfamiliar. He sounds unhinged in a way your fretful mind can’t even begin to voice, and surely, he must be. Climbing into bed with a stranger, pulling someone you’ve never met so closely to you… why would anyone in their right mind do that?!

You manage to find your voice when the man lowers his head to the crown of yours, deeply inhaling as his grip around you tightens. “What the hell are you doing?” You try to sound assertive, truly, but it comes out as a small squeak, anxiously wavering with each syllable uttered.

“You smell like honeysuckle.”

Was Kate back yet? If you screamed would she come sprinting through to door to rid this beast of a man from your bed? Your thoughts are like a roaring storm in your head just before you feel the gentle brush of lips, hidden beneath some veil, against your cheek and the figure pulls away to settle against your pillow with a soft huff of breath.

“Your heart is racing like a little hase. Calm down.”

“Stop. Please.” Your voice cracks again. Through the dim light of the moon seeping through your window you make out the sight of a clawed hand resting over your tummy. Thick, black keratin gently splayed over the fabric of your shirt, grip firm but not tight enough to cause injury. Your breath catches, the stranger let’s out an airy laugh, tries to pull you closer once again. You’re so entwined that it’s for naught, you’re only grateful he was gentle. The thought of those claws splitting you open surfaces just before he shushes you again.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats as if sensing your unease. You can almost detect the dejection in his voice, as though he knows, knows that you’re catching glimpses of a monster, a sight he couldn’t change. It’s gone so quickly you think you’ve imagined it. His thumb moves languidly to trace a circle along your sternum, trying to soothe.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a low hiss, eyes darting from his hand to the wall in front of you. The courage to twist in his grip and face him wasn’t there, your imagination running wild with possibilities of the rest of him like stills from a horror film.

“To hold you.” Simple sentences do nothing to make his voice sound calm, the man is practically trembling as his hand moves to your hip to trace a pattern there, clawed fingertips dancing over a hint of exposed flesh. His other arm shifts to fit beneath your neck, you can see the taut muscle, the veins there as he moves it to curl over your chest, his breathing uneven and deep. The sound was familiar, the same sound you had heard when you felt the dip in your mattress a few nights prior. “Just to hold you.”

And this, despite how horrific and strange, is oddly comforting. Your mind has been plagued with anxieties caused by the unseen for days on end, and you can’t even recall the last time you’ve been held like this, if ever. So tender, so warm. The man behind you quietly hums the tune of a song that isn’t familiar, but feels as though it were just behind you. His fingers continue to delicately trace small shapes against you, warm paths of connecting points, some angular, some smooth. Despite yourself, you find you’re lulled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of fall forests, of unknowns with sharp teeth and fierce eyes. A song, dancing naked in groves, a man with eyes like an ice covered stream.

When you wake, you find your bed empty apart from your own person, and a fully bloomed lily in your windowsill. 

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Eight

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: Forgiveness is earned, not given. And you were prepared to do whatever it takes to earn it, even if it means groveling for the rest of your life. 

Warnings:  All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, grief, angst, strained relationships, arguments, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues, running away, addiction, al-anon.  

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: BESTIES ! ! ! i AM BACK FROM THE DEADDDDDD ! ! ! Unfortunately, i became an academic victim instead of an academic weapon this past year . Currently suffering thru a stress induced cold too LOL love that 4 me . ut the year is over n finals r done so ill be continuing this ! ! ! ! Anywaysssss only two chapters left of this series </3 breaks my heart low-key LOL I really enjoyed writing this whole thing, it was fascinating putting the emotions into this whole thing ! Quite the experience, I tell ya ! but anywayssss have a slay day ! 

Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 @jadeittic @eternallyvenus @jackierose902109 (i apologize if i missed anyone new or previous!! please let me know if you were missed/wanna be added <3)

Masterlist

The tears wouldn’t stop bubbling over, leaving stains of sea salt on your cheeks that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you rubbed it with the back of your hand. At this point, your skin was raw from your scrubbing. But no matter what you did, they just wouldn’t go away.

The Al-Anon meeting had since been adjourned and slowly but surely people were shuffling out of their seats and either to the snack table for a quick swipe of donuts and coffee or straight to the door out of there. But here you were, scrubbing away fat tears that continued to roll down your cheeks, staring straight at the back of the head of a person you didn’t really know if you wanted to face at that moment. 

A particularly watery group of tears clouded your vision, making you wince and snap your eyes shut before bringing both your hands up to viciously scrub them away, taking your vision from the head whom you were trained on. As you scrubbed, feeling your eyes burn and vision turn into a kaleidoscope of colors, you failed to notice the sound of someone getting up and rapidly approaching you until it was too late.

A strong hand gripped your forearm and jerked you up from your seat, making you yelp and snap your eyes open again. They stung from the sudden sunlight invading your vision, but you blinked it away, instead focusing on the person with a calloused grip dragging you out of the room with a rush that made those still sticking around gasp and glance in your direction. 

You barely managed to hold yourself and your stuff together when you realized you were out the door of the room and back into the empty hallway. Carmy dropped his grip with an expression on his face that you couldn’t read at all. 

“Carmy-“ you began.

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t start…. Not now….” 

Carmy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking off and away from you. His shoulders started to sag, making him look so uncharacteristically… scared in front of you. 

He glanced back at you, watching your mouth open and close like a fish out of water as you kept trying to stop yourself from launching into some sort of explanation or apology. He continued to watch as you leaned against the wall, your body folding it on itself as your knees got weaker and weaker. All you did was stare at him with wide, watery eyes, trying so hard not to say anything. 

After some silence, Carmy looked away and spoke up, “You came.”

You swallowed the knot on your throat before nodding hesitantly.

He turned to look at you, blue eyes rimmed red. 

“Why.”

You opened your mouth, ready to launch into what you wanted to say, but Carmy threw his hand up to signal you to stop. With one hand on his hip, he looked at the floor and sighed again. 

“Why now? Is this an attempt for you to... to make it all better? Just like that? Listen, that might’ve worked on my brother but definitely not me.”

“No, I-“ 

“If you think of this as your form of retribution for everything, forget it. I don’t need your begging for forgiveness or your pity. I can’t… I can't just get over this, okay?”

“Carmy, I get that but-”

“But what? There are no amount of apologies or declarations of love for my brother in front of a group of strangers that will… that will change how i feel about this-”

“Carmy!”

He snapped his mouth shut.

With shaky legs, you stood up before him and made direct eye contact.

“I’m sorry.”

His adam's apple bobbed as he stared at you. 

You took in a shaky breath, “I’m not asking for anything, okay? I just… I want to say sorry. For stressing you out. For worrying everyone. For…. for leaving. I’m sorry.”

Then, Carmy did something you haven’t seen him do in a long, long time.

He cried. 

Tears spilled over his red rimmed baby blues, falling slowly, then faster and faster and faster.

With a choked breath, Carmy whispered out, “I needed you.”

“I needed you and you… you weren’t here. You ran. And I ran too.”

He shifted uncomfortably and looked away, but still whispered out his confession. 

“I was so… so fucking scared. I didn’t know what to do. But I knew that I needed you here. But you got scared too. So you ran. I…”

And with that, you began to sob.

You leaned against the wall, sobbing into your hands. You could barely hear his words over the echo of your cries, but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care when people came slowly out of the meeting room, casting glances in your direction before walking away to exit the building.

“I’m sorry. I… i’m taking it out on you. But you aren’t my brother. You're you. And I needed you in the same way you needed me. But…neither of us were here for each other like we promised.”

One thing you and Carmy always did during an infamous Berzatto family dinner was sneak out of the house and into the front yard, leaning against the garage door to share a cigarette.

Whether it was Donna’s yelling that drove Carmy out or Mikey’s constant erratic personality that got you feeling overwhelmed, you both somehow managed to take a second to go outside and catch a breath at the same time. 

So it became tradition to sneak out for 10 minutes before someone came looking for one or the other, to silently smoke and have a brief moment of peace.

Most of the time you were alone together, other times Natalie joined the two of you, usually just closing her eyes and leaning against the wall besides you, silent. 

By the 32nd informal Berzatto Family Sneak Out, as you two dubbed it, Carmy was opening up to you. He would tell you about how life has been treating him, his struggles, and general day to day things he enjoyed. You would do the same, providing him with his own mental escape just as he did for you.

Some days he would chatter on and on in a way you didn’t normally see him do. Other days it was silence. But regardless,you enjoyed his company regardless, as he did yours.

One Christmas, the two of you were shivering in the cold but still out there in scarves and sweaters regardless. 

“Shit,” you murmured and threw the cigarette down to stomp on it, foot sliding across the icy pavement.

You wobbled a bit, making Carmy snicker as you shot him a look.

“Hey uh, i got you a really cool present this year.” 

You glanced at him, rubbing your hands together, “Oh yea? Owning up for last year’s mistake?” 

Carmy rolled his eyes, “I swear i didn’t know you owned that sweater.”

You laughed, “I wore it during Thanksgiving!! It was right in front of you and you didn’t even notice!”

Carmy rolled his eyes and chuckled, rubbing the dark circles under them.

“Yea whatever, give me shit. But i promise this one will blow you away. I put a lot of thought into it, especially because it’s been a while since i’ve been down here…”

You hummed, looking off into the soft piles of snow glittering under the string lights, some red, others blue. 

“I missed you, you know…”

Carmy sighed, throwing his cigarette down and stomping on it. 

“I did too.”

You looked up at Carmy, smiling but no longer feeling your lips. He smiled back at you. 

“Promise me that we'll always have these little sneak outs, yea? It keeps me from going insane on your brother,” you said with a snort. 

He just chuckled, “Of course… I'll always be there for you if you’ll always be there for me… yea?”

He extended his hand out. You slapped your hand into his, shaking it with a playful grin. 

“Agreed.”

Someone calls your name from inside. Mikey’s booming voice echos from the house, loud and clear like a siren call within a turbulent sea. You whip your head to the front door and giggle, “Better get going, come on Berzatto. Maybe i’ll let you have my leftover christmas cookies if you sneak me an extra piece of that tiramisu you brought.”

With that, the two of walked back into the home for the rest of the night.

You can feel his hands gently grip your shoulders, helping you up from leaning against the cold wall into his arms. His muscular arms wrapping around you, the familiar scent of spices and sweat invading your nose; a scent so remarkably Carmy. 

“I’m sorry… I just really needed you… I needed you and i.. didn’t know how to ask…” He whispered into your neck, muffled. 

You sobbed, staining his shirt with tears but neither of you cared as you stood there, in the empty hallway as the setting sun streamed in through stray rays. 

By the time you separated from the hug, the hallway was a twilight blue. His rough hands reached up to your eyes, thumbing them away with a gentleness that made you want to cry again.

“I missed you.” you managed to say, after a long period of silence. 

“I missed you too…” he murmured, eyes droopy.

It was quiet and it felt… good. It felt good to stand there, staring at the lines on one another's' faces that showed the age and the years that you missed while apart. The stories they told you of each other, of how you drifted apart. But now they showed a different story. 

It felt good to be back.

“Hey uh, i have to get back… we have a, uh, bachelor’s party today…”

This made you snort, making Carmy crack a side smile. 

“A bachelor’s? At The Beef? Are you that broke?”

This made him chuckle softly, “Uh, yea…”

You shook your head with a small smile, “Well, I guess you better get going then. Everyone’s waiting on you, chef.”

Carmy looked to the floor, stepping away from you as he continued to smile, “Yes chef.”

You watched through as Carmy waved to you and your parents from the backseat of their car, your arms wrapped around yourself tightly. Your mom waved enthusiastically as your dad backed out, tires scratching on the gravel underneath you.

He got smaller and smaller as you all pulled away, making your way back home with a car full of hope. 

It was 6 in the morning when you got the call from Carmy.

You drove a little above the speed limit as you chewed on your bottom lip, eyes sweeping across the streets as your car lurched forward ahead of everyone else. The streets were slick from a light morning fog, rolling in with the cooler weather of fall and winter. But your skin was too hot to even realize how cold it was outside as you ran across the street from where you parked to The Beef. 

You threw the back door open, causing multiple people to throw their heads around to look at you. Ebraheim nodded in your direction and Tina smiled warmly. She glanced behind her before turning back to you, beckoning you in from your stiff stance in the doorway. 

You thanked her softly as you walked in, the chill from the air behind you making you shiver in your light sweatshirt and thin pants. 

You found Marcus in his corner, organizing diligently as Carmy walked away from his station and to Ebraheim’s, where he held up and complained about a sparkly black bra. You giggled as you watched them, getting Carmy’s attention.

He walked swiftly around the kitchen, signaling you to follow with a nod of his head. 

The two of you moved to stand in the door way leading to the front of the restaurant, watching Richie and Tina laugh before they turned, grabbing cleaning supplies. But when Richie turned and saw you, he briefly froze.

“Richie…” you said softly, crossing your arms across your chest with an arched brow. Carmy clued you in during the call, which is why you rushed here as soon as possible, worried sick about Richie.

“Hey uh…” he mumbled, sheepishly looking away from you as he scratched the back of his neck and avoided your gaze.

“Really? Jail?” you huffed.

“Come on, it was hardly even jail. I spent a night in holding, that’s it. Besides, i’ve done my penance… i’m a changed man. ” Richie said with a roll of his eyes and a choked laugh. 

You rolled your eyes, only to tense up when he asked his next question, “Why are you here?”

It wasn’t meant to be accusatory, just curious considering how the last conversation had ended here. But here you were, beside Carmy who didn’t seem very upset next to you. 

You looked away, clearing your throat softly, “Can we… can we talk in private about that…”

Richie visibly softened and glanced at Carmy before turning back to you, “Listen, you don't have to worry about-”

“No no no, just listen to me first, okay? Please… cousin?” 

This made Richie perk up and clear his throat, “Yea yea, come uh, come out back with me then..”

The two of you made your way to the backdoor, Carmy’s eyes trained on your backs right up until the door clicked shut behind you. 

“Listen Richie, I'm… I'm sorry. For… for everything. It’s…” you began, your throat drying up pretty soon after. 

Richie sighed, pacing away from you for a second as you struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. 

“Can i… say something…?” 

You looked at him, his back turned to you. But you heard him and the slight quiver in his throat loud and clear.

“I… it’s a secret so you have to promise not to tell anyone.” He said, laughing softly.

He slowly turned to you, showing the guilt and remorse all over his face that cleared that little moment of laughter right up. 

You nodded slowly, stepping forward toward him, “Yea, yea, of course….”

He hesitated, glancing up at you and analyzing every part of you for some form of dishonestly… but he found none. He only found the same eyes looking back at him, with trust glittering in them, like all those years ago. 

“Okay…” he began with a shaky breath, “I…”

You leaned forward some more, nodding softly. 

“I… I never once regretted loving Tiff.” 

Your eyes widened.

“She… was everything to me. I don’t regret loving her… even now…”

You could feel your heart racing in your ears. The way his eyes watered slightly as his hands shook at his side made your own eyes water. But his words, his words shook you up more than anything.

“I fucked up alot with her… you know that… and… and i don’t regret it either…”

Your bottom lip quivered. 

“I don’t think you should regret anything you did out of love for Mikey either… okay?”

You could only whimper, reaching forward to wrap your arms around him. He wound his arms around your own body, squeezing tightly as he did so, squishing you against him but neither of you cared. 

“So don’t apologize to me, okay? I know why you ran, and I don't blame you for it either.”

“....Thank you Richie… you're the greatest friend Mikey and I could ever have…”

Richie smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “Of course, Mikey might… Mikey might not be here but I am. I’m here for you…”

“Thank you…” you tried desperately to hold back the tears.

The two of you held each other there, in the cool morning air until Richie cleared his throat and murmured, “So you and Carmy are good now? Or what the hell?”

You laughed, voice watery. 

“Listen, i thought you two would fight each other out here, honestly. Wrestle like you would as kids over the last goddamn pudding cup but uh, i guess not huh.”

“No…no. We uh, talked yesterday and it… it ended pretty good i think.” 

You stepped back with a sigh, brushing away a couple pesky tears, “You know Carmy, he’s not easy to forgive so I don't expect that talk to fix everything but i… I'm glad I finally grabbed the hand that was reaching out…”

Richie shook his head, “I don’t get how you two always were so buddy-buddy, you’re like exact opposites.”

You shrugged, “You don’t know Carmy like I did… like I do. We are a lot more similar than you might think.”

With that Richie chuckled and clapped his hands together, “Alright, no more slacking, we got a shit ton of prep today.”

The two of you wiped your tears away with small chuckles as you stared at one another’s puffy eyes and flushed faces, trying your best to not look like wrecks as you walked back inside with small smiles. 

The day went off without a hitch, until… the fire.

[aballadforbarbatos]

Obey Me! Crushes on Social Media

includes the dateables as well as the brothers, so i'm adding a cut because it feels pretty long. the "social media" in question is just dewitter (twitter) and devilgram (instagram) because that's the socials i know the most about using :)

i was tempted to come up with some demon version of linkedin for lucifer though LOL

does lucifer own social media? devilgram doesn’t count, he can’t anonymously post about his inner feelings there. vague tweets (deweets?) about you. so vague that he’ll show you later and you’ll be like “what the hell this sounds more like one of your brothers than me. nice hair today? are you talking about asmo?”

mammon WISHES he could relate. mammon tweets about you every five seconds that’s how bad he is over you. lives in the same house as you and couldn’t send you a single friend request on anything, OR follow you first

leviathan is JUST as bad as mammon, please do not point it out to him. has no friends but if they ever stumbled across his dewitter account they’d KNOW who it is. it’s not fair that mammon can spend so much time with you and it’s not suspicious. you looked so pretty today. and yesterday. and you will forever and ever and he knows this because it’s you.

satan takes a picture of you and writes a cute little book quote that he thinks describes you perfectly. he shows you the post, all ready to hit send- you laugh and hit the button for him. it becomes kind of a joke between you, except that he’s dead serious, scouring through books for the perfect line for his perfect person. all his followers think he’s in a relationship with you, and he’s not about to say otherwise.

asmodeus has his personal devilgram account, but he definitely has a second account dedicated to fashion. you’re forced to model more and more outfits so that he can post them. definitely puts things like “look at MY pretty model” in the captions. he already has enough problems with his brothers, he doesn’t need other demons snooping around you too.

beelzebub doesn’t mess around. he doesn’t outright tell you either though- for obvious reasons. for every post you make he’s the first like and the first comment- although it’s typically riddled with typos since he’s normally eating when you post. he doesn’t really pay attention to his own social media accounts, but he never ever fails to pay you a compliment or well wish, even when he’s in the middle of something important. if only you took it as something beyond being a good friend.

belphegor- social media who? he HAS it, technically. it’s drier than australia and there are definitely cobwebs on his page, visible or not. the last post was also his first post: "..." if he ever makes a second post, it'll be when he wakes up and can't get back to sleep. upon posting “mc.” he finds he’s already drifting off, back to the sweet embrace of dreams and rest.

barbatos tweets “going through it” and then nothing else when he has a crush on you. rts it every once in a while when the pining gets particularly bad. once he typed out “GOING THRU IT” but never sent it. tweets “got through it” when the crush leaves him (never) or you pick him.

diavolo starts a “fan-page” of you. takes at least ten pictures of you every time you’re together and says that it’s for his fan-page on devilgram. the first time you heard this you were like “weird, but definitely not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me here! you do you boo <3”. fan-page of you- for who? nobody but him.

simeon is AWFUL with technology. it truly is a miracle that he manages to use devilgram. nonetheless, he does his best, and is always taking photos and posting them, typically with the caption "i thought you might like this :) @/mc". you respond eagerly, and at least one demon tries to remind you two that this can be a conversation in dms. neither of you pay attention to this reminder, and simeon invites you to the place that he took the picture. he later posts a picture of you lightly kissing his cheek. the demons become on very high alert after that.

solomon isn't subtle. "me, myself and mine" is the caption when he posts a picture of you and him together, and he tags every single demon brother and the royals and simeon, just for good measure. you laugh it off and comment "mine :)" underneath it. solomon gets a target on his back for an entire week before you clarify it was just a joke. this cycle repeats every couple of months as he tries to get more and more flirty comments out of you- when you post a picture of you kissing him with the caption "now shut up", he does. it's almost like an act of god.

bonus: LUKE only really has devilgram. he was worried about an "age limit" and it took diavolo, simeon, and barbatos to reassure him. lucifer tried to help but it just made everything worse. you're the first comment on all of his devilgram posts. any time you're not, you're apologising profusely, and he says it's all the demon brothers' fault, and you say yes it's all the demon brothers' fault. and then you spend the entire afternoon at purgatory hall. solomon takes great joy in rubbing this in their faces.

[ironstrange1991]

Too Tired

+18 smut

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is tired from a mission and after two rounds with you, you still want one more. Will he be able to met with your expectations?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Its a smut, but a soft and romantic one. P in V, Oral sex with female and male receiving, mastrubation with female and male receiving, lots of dirty talk.

A/N: Guys I have been thru a lot in my personal life so thats the reason why I have disappeared but I love be in here, I love this comunity and I love to write for Stephen, right now its the only thing that is keeping me alive LITERALLY. So belive me when I say I wrote this from rock bottom and took this words from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoy it.

Stephen rolled onto his side of the bed, body sweaty, breathing heavily after two rounds with you, the second being a particularly long one. He was spent.

You were apart for two weeks and when he got home that morning you simply attacked him demanding to be sated of all the love and desire you felt for him.

Stephen had a relatively high sex drive, but sometimes he was surprised by you. Positively of course. That morning he made you come three times, once on his face, twice on his cock. He came hard twice himself, the first time in your mouth and the second inside you and yet as he threw himself back on the pillows trying to regulate his breathing you crawled into his chest placing kisses on his neck, moving up to his face, his cheek, rubbing your face against his goatee and  squeezed your thighs together like a cat in heat and he knew it was going to be a long day and he wasn't complaining, he loved that about you but to be quite honest he didn't know if he could meet your demands and expectations.

Stephen was tired. The mission had been a long one and although he came back in one piece this time with no bruises or broken bones, he could feel the weariness getting to him and as much as he wanted to immediately go for a third round he doubted he could get an erection that fast.

You cupped his face pulling him to your lips and stuck your tongue in his mouth kissing him so hot it brought a moan from the back of his throat. "Oh sweetheart..." He caressed your face watching as you bit your bottom lip "I love it when you kiss me like that"

You grinned and kissed him again, this time giving his bottom lip a little nip. You took his hand and brought it down between your legs. He sighed feeling how wet you were again when minutes before he had cleaned you up. "You're insatiable, sweetheart, look at that, all wet for me again" You lay back on the mattress and spread your legs wider for him "I've been without you for two weeks Stephen, do you have any idea how hard that was? I I had to resort to other methods, but it's not the same as having the Master of the Mystic Arts fucking me."

Stephen chuckled, he propped himself up on his elbow as he dipped his middle finger deeper inside you, slowly fucking you with rhythmic strokes. You moaned louder. "Is that why you called me in the middle of the night? Because your toys alone weren’t enough to make you come?"

He added a second finger to draw a passionate sigh from your lips. You shook your head, your eyes were closed "I needed to hear your voice" You confessed.

"Aham, just my voice or all the dirty things I whispered to you on the phone?"

"Both... Ah Stephen I want you to make me come again"

Stephen kissed you. Not a simple kiss, but that kiss where his tongue wandered to each corner of your mouth, sucking your tongue hard and biting your lips in the process. You could have sworn that only that kiss was capable of making you come.

You groaned loudly, your hand on top of Stephen's hand showing him exactly what you wanted. He managed to put his thumb on your clit and started circling it slowly. "Like that?" He asked in your ear in that wonderful whispered voice. You could only nod your head in approval, your mouth went agape.

"Oh I know sweetheart. I know exactly how you like it. You need to have just the right amount of pressure here, don't you?"

You shook your head vehemently.

"I know. Just let go then. I know you so well, my love." He put a little more pressure on his thumb as he moved both fingers in an intense rhythm and he could feel your walls tightening around his fingers. Oh he loved that feeling. He loved it much more when it was in his cock, but it felt powering. Knowing he was responsible for leaving you in that state made him feel more powerful than any spell.

"Oh Stephen, you're going to make me come..."

Stephen hummed in your ear and nibbled your earlobe reveling in the way your skin prickled "Come on, sweetheart, come hard for me, show me how much you love me"

He didn't have to ask twice. The combination of the intense penetration of his fingers, the friction of his thumb on your clit and his voice whispered in your ear was explosive. You came. Hard.

Your moan was almost a whimper, but Stephen insisted on swallowing it with another breathtaking kiss.

He took his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, sucking them provocatively "You taste so good"

You smiled charmingly at him opening your arms and he throws himself into them giving you a crushing hug and biting your neck rubbing his goatee there making you shiver and giggle. He rolled to the side, but kept you firm in his arms, your head on his chest, your hand caressed his chest and went down to his belly and kept going down, not satisfied you started giving light kisses on his chest that quickly went from Innocent to provocative, your hand grabbed his cock which was only half hard.

"I dont know if I can do it again sweetheart, even though I want it, I am tired."

You hummed undaunted by the challenge ahead and held it tight in your hand stroking it up and down slowly.

He squeezed you in his arms and you turned to kiss him and God, that kiss alone would be more than enough to make his cock hard if he wasn't so tired. Even so, the way you moved and your kiss was enough to bring some life to it, though still not enough.

"Put it in your mouth sweetheart, make me hard for you."

You were moving to put it in your mouth when he pulled you past his head, putting you on all fours and bringing your pussy up to his head giving him a privileged view of your soaked slit. You didn't wait a second to put it in your mouth and he didn't wait to grab your thighs and pull you to his mouth sucking and surprising you with delicious voracity.

Stephen wasn't small even half flaccid, but as he hardened in your mouth he grew and you loved to see that transformation. Stephen had a delicious cock, but more than that, his cock was beautiful. Just like him. Big, thick, with the pink tip and bulging veins that pulsed in your mouth.

Stephen loved to suck you. He could be hard just by smelling and drinking all your fluids, but he also loved the way you rolled on his face without any shame. You had a hungry clit, he loved to take it between his teeth when it was all swollen and red from your arousal, to flick his tongue on it or simply suck on it and feel his entire body quiver in response. Pleasuring you was always the best way to get Stephen hard.

He loved your moans, he loved the way you reveled in your own pleasure and he especially loved knowing that he was responsible for leaving you in that state.

Stephen knew all your weaknesses, he knew for example that you came faster if you had friction on your clit along with the penetration, he also knew very well that getting you face down from behind pinning you against the bed with his body weighting above you as he rubbed the beard on your neck and whispered all kinds of filth in your ear was the most delicious way to make you come and fall head over heels in love with him.

Just like he knew that, like now, you loved being able to wiggle in his face and rub your pussy in his goatee.

But he didn't want you to come yet, your next orgasm would be on his cock which was already rock hard for you again.

"That's right sweetheart, you are awesome, look how hard you left me again. Come here, ride me. I want to feel you bouncing on my cock"

You were more than happy to comply with his request. And a second later you were directing his cock at your entrance completely soaked by your lubrication and Stephen's saliva.

You moaned as you lowered allowing him to go deep inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate him inside you. It didn't matter that he'd fucked you twice already, it was always quite a challenge to contain him inside you.

"Fuck you feel so good, love. Move please, ride me hard" You leaned against his chest and started rocking on his cock, alternating between back and forth and up and down movements. Increasing your pace slowly, the noises of his cock moving in and out of your soaked pussy was always so delicious, it made you extremely horny for him.

Stephen took one of his hands around your waist and grabbed your tit with the other letting you do all the work.

"Oh sweetheart you do it so good, I love it when you fuck me like that"

It wasn't common for Stephen to relinquish control in bed, usually he did all the work being dominant all the time and you loved that about him, but sometimes when he was tired he chose to let you be in control and the result was always extremely pleasurable for both  and you knew he was a lot more tired than he let on.

Even from that and from the way his cock was throbbing violently inside you, you knew he wouldn't last.

"Fuck, if it continues at this rate I'm going to come, sweetheart, I can't hold back, you feel too good"

You were so close to your orgasm that stopping wasn't an option. "I am almost there, Stephen. Hold it" You bit your bottom lip bending forward to get just a little more friction "Slap my ass"

Stephen grinned and complied.  You moaned loudly "Again"

He did it. "Again" He did it again and then it happened. Your entire body shook on top of him, your walls squeezing his cock so hard and pulling him to his too. "Oh thats right sweetheart... oh fuck, fuck..." Stephen spilled inside you and you loved that feeling.

You collapsed on top of him and Stephen wrapped you in his arms putting you on the bed but keeping you in his arms.

"That was... intense" You finally said and then you both giggled.

Stephen kissed your lips lightly and got up going to the bathroom and came back with a cloth. He cleaned you up and then cleaned himself up and then came back to bed holding out his arm for you to lie comfortably next to him. You rested your head on his shoulder and caressed his face lightly watching him. His eyes were red with sleep.

"Poor thing, I took advantage of you a lot, didn't I?"

He smirked, but his eyes were practically closing by themselves "I pretty much enjoyed every second of it"

You smiled cupping his face and pulling it to your lips. You kissed him softly.

"Yeah I know. And you were amazing as always, but I will let you sleep now, Stephen. You deserve it."

He hummed squeezing you in his arms "Thank you sweetheart"

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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[maochira]

Hii I just wanted to say you are my most fav writer cus your the only one who writes for lavin, Lorenzo and others who are not highly written and the way you depict them seems so on point 😭

May i request a crying, insecure kaiser, Lorenzo and Chris with a comforting fem (or gn) reader?

I read thru your request rules two times but if this ask is uncomfortable for you you can deny it ofc!!

Tysm for making our day with your fanfics, they are always extravagant <3

Aaa tysm <3 I only write gn!reader btw so yeah!! (only fem!reader if reader is a lesbian.) Also adding some characters hehe

Characters: Kaiser, Lorenzo, dad!Chris, Raichi, Tokimitsu, Zantetsu

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, dad!Chris but the others can be seen as romantic or platonic (your choice), fluff, I didn't end up writing about the characters crying but comfort in general, mention and description of flashbacks in Lorenzo's part, not proofread

As high as Kaiser's ego is, even he has moments when he feels down. And luckily, you're always right there to comfort him. And it doesn't even take words to make him feel better. A simple hug is more than enough to lift Kaiser's mood when he's down. There's just something so special about your embrace. It's a specific comfort he's never experienced from anyone else before.

Lorenzo sometimes thinks too much about his past. He's mainly come to terms with the wrong things he's done, so nothing of that ever bothers him. But Lorenzo has experienced what it feels like to be on the verge of death, and sometimes he gets flashbacks of that from which he can't distract himself from. Only you manage to find ways to properly distract him and get his thoughts focused on other things, especially when you're close to him and hold his hand while you're talking. It makes him remember where he is right now, and not how his flashbacks make him feel.

Usually, Chris is the one comforting you. But every now and then, even your father has his moments of feeling down. He always tries to hide that from you because he doesn't want you to feel responsible for his well-being. But it's always easy to notice when your father is feeling down. Even if he thinks you don't notice it, you do. You try to not be obvious with how you're helping him so you always do subtle actions that you know will make him feel better like a hug or asking to play soccer together.

Raichi can get too rough with his words and often think he hurt your feelings. You're a very important person to him, so he always feels super guilty as soon as he thinks he's gone too far. He apologizes even when unnecessary and that's always when you notice how much guilt he's carrying around about this. Even though he sometimes really does hurt your feelings, most of the time he's just overthinking too much. And fortunately for Raichi, you always reassure him enough to make that guilt go away.

Tokimitsu gets anxious extremely easily. He's always afraid of doing something wrong but at the same time, he hates admitting that because he doesn't want to be a bother to you. But no matter what's dragging him down, you're always there to help him. Because he addresses what he struggles with so rarely, you've learned how to read Tokimitsu's body language very well. Most of the time there's no need for you to say anything, it's enough to hold his hand or give him a hug to let him know everything is okay.

Zantetsu is well aware of how stupid he is and he knows everyone thinks he's an idiot. Well, everyone except for you. You're always the first person he thinks of when he needs to be comforted. Zantetsu knows that no matter how stupid other people make him feel, you're always right there to provide him with comfort and reassurance. He may be dumb with words, but you always know just right what to say to make him feel better,

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[warmilksz]

❤️How would you and your person be as a couple?❤️

hello everyone ⭐ I hope this post finds you well!

Take a moment to breathe for 4 seconds, hold it for 6 and release for 8. Do this as many times you need to renew your mind🙏. Now scroll up and pick whichever pile resonates with you the most.

Most importantly, Thank you for reading, following liking and reblogging( u dropped this--👑)

This is just for fun, it doesn't predict any futures, you control your own destiny.take was resonates and leave what doesnt for someone else ❤️

For the first image I'm getting, on the surface you guys are a calm couple. You guys seem so relaxed in each others energy. That calmness is really the trust you have for each other that people see. Sometimes you both may get frustrated with eachother but you still keep the bigger picture a priority ( ur love and trust for each other ) 💞 I'm getting your person thinks you are very cute, but not sweet if that makes sense lol Maybe your a bit of a brat haha. But they find that unique and interesting, like adding spice to a dish. Do you tease each other? I think you know them. (There's someone whos sexual frustrated here😂) you may be annoyed by your person at times, but you can't help but feel a gravitational pull towards them bringing you back. Like they do something to annoy you, but then they buy you flowers and you forgive them or you do that to them. I don't think they're annoying you on purpose though. It's just who they kinda are lol but when they eventually feel romantic towards you, it balances itself out. Your relationship is sweet and spicy. Sweet feelings are nice but Maybe you like that spice in your person too 😉.

For the second image, I'm seeing you guys when ur deep into the relationship. You're both working hard to make it work. I think for some, you both have a lovely thing going on. your person and you are both putting in similar efforts as a couple.( I think u guys seem pretty normal intimately movies/park dates, hand holding, yknow stuff u see in chick flicks lol) Your relationship is full of learning to trust each other and I feel that u want to definitely make it work. I can't shake the feeling that maybe someone has something on their mind in this pile that might influence this relationship. I'm not getting in a bad way so don't panic 🫣. Someone could be going thru a tough time emotionally or mentally and may hide it from the partner. They don't want you to see them like that especially after all the work u guys put into each other (aww🥲). Regardless of what it is, you guys will make it thru it and come out stronger and closer. Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly 🦋

Finally, you guys have been through some tough things but you're in a period of calmness now. I feel so happy. (Such a transition from the last pile) It's giving married old couple ❤️ (even if ur young haha). When there is conflict u guys talk it out and smile after. Maybe u guys will have pets, kids or both. This person also seems like they really are in it for the long haul. They wanna do somethangs with u group 3! Perhaps some of you were taught traditional values and gender roles growing up and that Is a foundation for ur togetherness. Some how in todays society, u guys managed to balance ⚖️ ur values and ur partner's values. Y'all both feel equal and valued regardless. They are patient though and won't rush you. (You/them may lose/exchange your virginity with this person) That's so beautiful 😭. I think this relates to traditional values cause someone here feels dominant 🧐lol. Like they want to build with you as a equal but if needed they also wanna protect you and shelter you without u having to lift a finger 👑💕

[taylortruther]

i feel like a lot of fans are only able to view folklore in two extremes: (1) it’s all fiction, no influences from her life affect it (2) it’s all based in reality, to the point that there’s no fictional elements at all—the latter is just being used as a way to keep adding to the ‘she hated being with joe’ thing bc she writes about heartbreak. and honestly it just feels so trivializing to her craft as an artist. yes someone in a relationship can write about heartbreak without going thru it at the time, or you can channel feelings from a very specific period in time into art without it expressing ur current state. idk it just feels like people don’t want to listen to what she says about her own art

hmmm i agree but also think i might slightly disagree. imo taylor is bviously drawing from her own life for all of these songs, but i think the fandom has extrapolated a lot, post-breakup, that is not necessary.

it's not super relevant (to me) to try and find "signs" that things were leading to a breakup. all relationships have their issues! that's what she'll write about, even with travis or whoever. and often couples go through the same fights, the same issues, over time!! sometimes they lead to a breakup, other times you can manage them together and get stronger. sounds like perhaps taylor and joe were in the latter category until they simply couldn't do it anymore. that's...... normal!

plus, taylor was open about her own fears and anxieties, and she was also confronting memories and lessons learned because it was simply time - things like fear that her life was a burden, depression, suicidal ideation, what she's gained from her success, what she's lost, the loss of her masters and friendships, etc.

these are all intertwined with her songs in folklore, evermore, and midnights. and all of her love songs with joe. they're impossible to separate.

however, this isn't me suggesting it was all in her head. i have long taken issue with the fandom's old mentality that "all of their problems are due taylor's anxiety"... some of the songs (like hoax or renegade) make it clear joe had his own issues. duh. because he's human lmao.

but they're her songs about her experiences and fictionalizing some of these issues was therapeutic.

i don't really know why people struggle with this. idk.

[strawbrygashez]

soapshipping hcs?? :))

AAAA okay! I’m worried these r ooc but UHM oh well 😈 under a cut bc it’s kinda long

•They both love listening to the other talk about anything. Well like, the narrator could listen to Tyler talk about how he stubbed his toe this morning and this man will still be like “mhm go on 😍” but I mean like how Tyler goes on long rants & randomly lists off things he knows. The narrator listens to every word like God is talking to him/giving him orders. Tyler likes listening to the narrator ramble too even tho the narrator probably doesn’t often unless he’s stressed from work and wants to talk about it. But I think every now and then he does ramble on about things he likes & random things he knows too.

Sometimes Tyler doesn’t look like he’s interested but he IS! He stores like literally any information the narrator tells him away in his head somewhere so he can do something with that info later. Be it like, learn more so he can show off, bond with him more or just is lowkey trying to show he does care about literally everything abt him.

•Tyler loves when narrator sits in his lap! The narrator is almost always embarrassed about doing so but after a while of Tyler just basically yanking him into his lap, he gets more used to it. Tyler will wrap his arms around him and rest his head on his back. He mostly only makes him sit in his lap at home but I think maybe a couple times he tries to get him to in public when no one is really paying them any attention anyways.

• AAA… okay sorry for this one but, Marla would watch them get it on ONCE I’m sorry but I can so see her just smoking and boredly watching them. She doesn’t join in but she’s like throwing in swears at the shit they do..maybe tries to give Tyler some advice on what to do next 💀 I don’t what would lead up to this situation but yeah.

•Obviously it’s so easy to tell when the narrator is jealous but I think Tyler can be just as jealous but won’t show it. He’ll smile thru whatever it is that has him feeling that way but kinda have a vaguely threatening aura but not enough to where the narrator or the other person will feel like brining it up. Usually his jealous feelings are solved in bed later but sometimes he will just be all silent and off until the narrator somehow manages him to tell him what’s wrong (yknow without the sex. This would probably be later down the road tho LOL)

Adding on to this, If the narrator makes it clear he doesn’t give a shit about certain people or a majority ppl knowing he’s with Tyler, Tyler will just be all over him while talking to other people. (Jealous or not) like his hand is in the narrators back pock, he has a arm around him, he kisses him or he really just starts a makeout session in front of whoever.

•The narrator feels like he doesn’t look anything special himself and is kinda confused why Tyler calls him pretty and etc but it’s not really a huge thing that bothers him. All the complements he gets from Tyler does help him gain a little confidence every day :)

• I think the narrator would assume Tyler is a dog person but in reality, Tyler would take home a little abandoned kitten if he felt like it :,) he lovesssss cats. If he believed in getting things that he doesn’t really need he would have that one cat poster that says “hang in there!”

They bring up getting a cat together every now and then but it’s always never a good time for some reason or another. Unless like what a said where Tyler would feel bad enough for a abandoned cat and just takes it home without warning lol.

•Tyler knows the narrator doesn’t eat much as it already is so eventually, he will go out of his way to buy more plain food that he personally wouldn’t get bc he likes foods with a lot of different things in it or on it. Like before he really started caring a lot for the narrator, he’d just shrug and be like “your loss” if he won’t eat what Tyler cooked but once he learns that the narrator has a lot of food aversions, he will get and cook the ‘simple’ things he likes with only a little bit of teasing, if any at all.

•Tyler uses sooooo many different nicknames and whatnot for the narrator but the narrator is only comfortable with calling him Ty. He will jokingly call him honey tho when he gets home or if Tyler is doing some house wife or ‘man of the house’ stuff.

Speaking of, if Tyler is doing some building or handy work around their house, the narrator finds it super hard to stop watching. The way Tyler sweats, his muscles flex, and the occasional grunts he lets out has the narrator about to pass out!!

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty - house training

warnings: explicit content 18+ (oral m receiving, mxf). mentions of death, injuries, canon typical violence. tiny slight bit of matt x karen but blink and u miss it really. they r just friends.

a/n: told u the next one was coming FAST. and it’s long too. also thx to everyone who said they enjoyed the frank w the kid situation going on, i was going to breeze thru their time together bc i didn’t think ppl would like that, but i added a lil part in this chapter just for u guys!! i love this chapter so much omfg. the whole gang is here!!!!

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s 4am and Frank Castle is wide awake.

Six months ago that was fine. He didn’t sleep much at the best of times. Even when he was in the army he couldn’t shut his brain off. Always thinking of what he needed to do tomorrow, if he’d be able to get home soon, what he was missing out on at home. He couldn’t stop thinking about Maria, his kids, what they might be doing, if they were safe. Even when it wasn’t about them it was involuntary— he just couldn’t shut it off.

But now, it feels like torture. It’s because of you— ever since that night in the hotel where you curled up next to him after he’d dragged you out of the water, he’d slept like a god damn baby. Just knowing you were in the room somewhere close, safe, in a four step radius from him. It just meant he didn’t have to think about any of that other shit. You were right there, and all he had to do was reach out and you’d be safe.

Now, he was cramped in a single bed trying to drown out the loud snores of a kid who’s clearly never had a good nights sleep in his life. He was laying like a starfish on his bed, out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. At least he felt safe enough to sleep here— some shitty hotel probably looked like a palace to him.

He’d already tried to call Madani about nine times in the past few hours, but she hadn’t so much as texted him. The one time he actually wanted her to call him, she doesn’t. It makes him feel sick— if something had happened to you, and he’d let you just drive away, he’d never forgive himself. Sam would never forgive him either.

Just as he’s about to try and close his eyes again, the phone in his bag buzzes. It’s quiet, but he’s been listening out for it inadvertently for fucking hours— it’s like an alarm. Ripping the phone out of his bag, he moves about as quiet as a bull, slamming out the door and closing it behind him, the small balcony about as much privacy as he could afford.

“Madani. I’ve been calling for fucking hours. Tell me—“

“Hey, Frank.” He has to put a hand on the railing to keep himself steady. Even just your voice, slow and soft through a muffled speaker manages to strip all that shit away and his eyes close, trying to breathe.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“You haven’t slept.” Even through the phone you can read him like an open book.

“Neither have you.” You laugh quietly, and he can hear the quiet hum on of engine behind the sound of you.

“You get out okay?”

“We’re fine.”

“We?” He slides down the railing, his head feeling heavier now. Madani hadn’t told you. He doesn’t know how you’ll react, if you even wanted him to do this— you’d told him Sam wasn’t his responsibility, but he just looked so…sad.

“They were gonna put him in a foster home. I didn’t think I…”

“Sam’s with you?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, and Frank can’t tell if it’s because you’re angry or you’re trying not to be heard.

“Yeah. Thought it might be easier for when you come back. He looked bad— back at the house. They didn’t know where he was gonna go.” There’s silence again, and his eyes close, listening to the sound of you breathing. He could fall asleep out here on the balcony to that sound.

“You didn’t have to do that for me.” Your voice shakes, like you might start to cry.

“Yeah, I know. The kid looked sad, though.”

“Softie.” He’s smiling so big like you’ve just told him some great fucking thing, but really it’s just because he can hear you now, making fun of him and it’s only been a few hours but he fucking missed it. Missed it so bad.

“Where are you?” He keeps his eyes closed as you tell him everything that’s happened, how you were heading back to Murdock’s place with Karen to lay low until he could figure something out for you. He swallowed his pride and hummed in agreement, knowing that was something he couldn’t do for you. It’s why he’d suggested it.

The sound of your voice was doing something to him that he couldn’t place, wrenching something free in his chest that had been stuck longer than he’d admit. He kept asking you things about the cases Madani brought up, if she’d told you anything about the Gnuccis and where Bobby might be now.

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“You could meet me there. Only a few hours away now.” He knows Murdocks place. It’s not far from him either.

“Just a few hours, yeah?” You sigh, and if he concentrates he can see the face your pulling, eyes fluttered shut and your head back. He’s glad the wind is cold as shit out here, cause he needs to focus.

“Think you can hold out that long?” He’s laughing again, leaning back against the door.

“You think you can do any better?” Your breath hitches on the other line. “Missed your voice.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“So?”

“Yeah. Missed yours too.” You say it quietly, muffled slightly so no one else in the car can hear you.

“You miss anything else?” His voice is low and heavy, and you let out an even longer sigh. He sees your face behind his closed eyes again, and nearly groans. 

“I’m in the car, Frank.”

“I’m not.” You let out a soft curse, and it’s probably meant to be a warning but it sounds too fucking good. It’s like being starved, being away from you. He’s way too attached, he knows it’s not the time or the place but he never gets that right anyways, and he just needs to hear you. “Sound so pretty when you swear like that.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“Nah. You missed me, didn’t you?” 

“You’re an asshole.” Someone coughs on your end of the line and he hears you straighten up. “Does Sam seem okay?”

“Yeah. He’s fine. Eats like a horse.” He lets you change the subject. If you were asking about anyone else he wouldn’t. Just a few fucking hours. 

“I’m scared he’s gonna be messed up. I don’t know what they did to him.” You shuffle again, and it sounds like you might cry again.

“Hey, don’t worry, okay? He’s alright. He ate a burger, slept, asked me a million questions and messed around with the radio for seven hours. Most normal kid I’ve seen.” A short, breathy laugh flows through the receiver. “He’s gonna be fine.”

“Thank you, for taking him with you. I wouldn’t trust anyone else.” He can’t keep his eyes open any longer, mumbling back some kind of response. “Need to sleep. I’ll—I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Real soon.” The receiver clicks off before he can say anything else. He doesn’t know how to navigate this shit— navigate you. He should of just said it. Said fucking something at least.

Real soon. Jesus Christ. He meant to tell you… when they shoved you in that car he should of said it back.

Sliding the door back open, he walks straight back to bed and his legs give out as soon as he finds the edge. He manages to sleep now, memories of you sending him unconscious in a matter of minutes. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Shit!” Frank flies upward at the sound, reaching for the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He looks to the left and sees the kids bed empty, then hears something else break behind him.

The bathroom light is on, and he doesn’t think— the worst already running through his head. He kicks the door down, snapping the lock in one go, and the first thing he sees is the blood.

“Fuck!” The kid swears again, jumping backwards away from the aim of the gun, broken glass cracking under his feet. He backs up to the opposite wall so fast, Frank hasn’t even dropped his gun yet. “I’m sorry!”

“What the hell are you doing?!” He’s half asleep and not thinking right, dropping the gun, but the words come out angry and harsh. Blood’s running down the kids arm from his hand, which is clenched in a tight fist like he’s getting ready for a fight.

“I didn’t mean to— the light wasn’t working and I hate the dark! I thought if I just twisted the bulb… I’ve done it before but it smashed—“ He looked a lot younger than he is right now— skinny, folded over, eyes still darker than normal. Frank takes a step forward, glass from the broken bulb and cover crunching under his foot, and Sam straightens, his hand shaking a little. “I’m sorry— I thought I could—“

“It’s okay. It’s fine, yeah?” He tries, something about him being scared of him making him want to vomit. “You hurt?”

“No.” Blood continues to drip down his arm, and he’s still sticking to the corner of the bathroom. Frank goes to take another step, and more glass crunches. Looking down, there’s blood and glass all over, and the kid doesn’t have any shoes on.

“Just— stay there.” He’s staring at the floor, and Frank sighs, having no idea how to handle this— handle him. You were already scared he was going through shit you couldn’t help him with, the last thing you needed was to have Frank make it worse.

It wasn’t all that new to Frank, though— not the twelve year old kid, but the frozen reaction he had when Frank burst through the door, or the way he backed up and put as much distance between himself and Frank as possible. It was basic survival instinct, and he’s guessing the last time someone aimed a gun at this kid they weren’t trying to help him.

He came back into the bathroom to find Sam standing next to the sink, balancing on the toilet seat to avoid the glass, washing the cut on his hand. Using an old t-shirt, Frank managed to swipe away most of the mess to a corner of the room, the only noise the crunch of glass and the running water.

“You want me to take a look at it?” Frank breaks the silence, and the kids face doesn’t move, just stays staring at his hand.

“I’m sorry. About the light.” Sam says, and Frank stands, moving towards him slowly.

“Ah. Shit happens.” He shrugs, and Sam finally flicks his eyes up to him for half a second.

“I couldn’t do it.” Frank hardly hears it over the water, but he just keeps as still as he can, afraid to scare him off. “They wanted me to do what she did. Hurt people… and I couldn’t do it. I tried— but I never did it. Maybe if I could of, she wouldn’t be—“

“Hey— none of this is your fault. You hear me?” He crouches down, his forearm leaning on the edge of the sink. “Anything they did is on them alone.”

“She did it for me. Why couldn’t I do it for her? I could of tried harder. I’m not a kid anymore.” Frank knows he’s crying but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Let me see your hand.” Wordlessly, he reaches out, and Frank rifles through a tiny first aid kit, finding tweezers to start to pull the tiny shards of glass out. “The only thing your sister was worried about this whole time was you. It’s what older siblings are meant to do.”

“But I— ow.” Frank takes out a small piece of glass, and Sam flinches, but doesn’t pull away. Frank takes that as some kind of progress. “I wanted to help her. Like she helped me.”

“She did it because she wanted you to stay alive. And you did. You did everything you had to do.” Dropping the tweezers, Frank dries his hand. “Sometimes, the only thing you can do is keep going. Even if the people you care about the most aren’t there to help you do it.”

“Yeah.” To his credit, Frank bandages his hand without having to tell him not to move, and after he lets go, he stands, feeling the kids eyes on him. “They always came when it was dark. To try and make me… I don’t want the lights to be off.”

“I’ll leave the front one on.” Sam nods.

“Thanks. For—“ He holds up a now bandaged hand, and Frank just nods back.

“Go to sleep. We leave in a couple hours. Your sister called.” For the first time since he was eating, he smiles a little, then turns around and walks out of view.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” You hear in his voice but you don’t move, not wanting anything to wake you from this perfect dream. It feels so real, you swear you could even feel the warmth of his words on the shell of your ear, the press of his skin to yours.

One of his hands is splayed on your lower back, touching the small sliver of skin where your shirt rides up. You shuffle down slightly, encouraging him to go higher, and when he does you nearly purr with satisfaction. His chest presses against your arm with each inhale, and he leans closer, placing one sweet kiss to the side of your temple.

Your eyes reluctantly flutter open, but you can still feel the warmth of his palm, rough and soothing along your back. He kisses you again, and you know you can feel it; the dip of the bed as he leans forward, the warmth of his mouth, slowly kissing under your jaw, moving down your neck. You were conscious now, only just, but enough to think thoughts with some kind of rational.

“Frank?” He couldn’t be here. He was hours away. You swear you only fell asleep in Matts spare room an hour ago, there’s no way he was already here…

His nose brushes against your jaw, and his mouth is all softness as he looks up, finally hovering in front of you, pulling you awake with a slow press of his mouth to yours.

“Mhmm.” He hums against you. Every time his hand strokes up your back, your shirt comes up a little more. You shiver slightly, and he pulls you closer, your body turning to face him. He pulls back and kisses the tip of your nose. Your eyes fly open fully.

“You’re here.” Your arms don’t move as fast as you will them to, but instead they slowly wrap around his neck, and he smiles when you finally kiss him back. You shuffle up to taste more of him, feeling the soft strands of your now clean hair fall over your face. Frank groans, his tongue meeting yours with a desperate pull, fingers tracing the line of your cheekbone.

He takes control, flipping you underneath him now he knows your awake. He follows every single tired, subtle hint you give him so you don’t have to think— just feel him. Your back arches, and he knows you want him to wrap an arm under you, hold you up against his chest. Your fingers thread through his hair and he ducks down, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, finding all the places he’s claimed as his.

You sigh as he slots himself between your legs, groaning your name in a horse tone when he feels your not wearing anything besides the shirt. As his hand slides over your hip, he pulls back to find the hem of it, then stops moving completely, hovering over you with a confused look on your face.

“Who’s shirt is this?” Blinking a few times, still coming out of your sleepy state, you tilt your head.

“What?”

“Where’d you get it?” 

“I don’t know? Matt gave me some cl-”

“You’re wearing Murdock’s clothes? In his bed?” Rolling your eyes, his hand on your hip tightens a little, the other tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Frank. He’s helping me— he was being nice.” He leans down to kiss you, taking your bottom lip between his teeth lightly.

“Yeah. Real nice of ‘im.”

“This was your idea. You called him, didn’t you?” He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to savour the smell of you.

“To be your lawyer. Not walk around in his clothes.”

“Well, I’m sure he’d like it just as much if I walked around naked.” He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Please don’t tell me your jealous right now.”

“Tryin’ not to be.” His teeth now drag lightly along the sensitive part of your neck, just under your ear, and you gasp. 

“I just needed a shirt.” In one movement, he slips the shirt you were wearing over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room, and then takes his own off. “Happy?”

“Fuckin’ thrilled.” He peppers you with kisses even though your laughing, but when he presses his weight down between your legs you breathe his name, eyes closing, feeling that warm, shuddering feeling flood your body again. 

“Wait... wait where’s—”

“Karen and Matt took him out for food. Told you the kid eats like a horse.” You should probably ask more questions, make sure he’s okay, but Frank leans down again, kisses you so deeply that the dreamlike feeling comes back and nothing else matters— nothing else can matter but the feeling of having Frank like this.

His hands wander all over your body, scorching heat trailing every line his fingers trace. He pulls you down the mattress, torso lined below his mouth. He looks up at you, making sure you see his face when he kisses his way down a little lower. He murmurs words against your skin, your hands brushing through his hair, simultaneously pushing him down and tugging him toward you. 

“Frank...”

“What do you need?” He stops moving, head resting on the top of your thigh. The sight is fucking dizzying— how his hands look hooked around your legs, his eyes half dazed. You tug on his hair lightly, and he frowns, but follows your movement. Once he’s hovering above you, you flip him over in one move, sucking in a breath when the warmth of his chest presses against your thighs.

He moves where you put him, one hand in your hair, the other reaching out for you, running along your back, then your shoulder as you shuffle lower, and when you roll the waistband of his boxers down, his free hand fists into the sheets. Blinking up at him, he looks completely gone, his eyes only half open and his knuckles white with restraint.

You couldn’t help it, some baseline thing inside of you just wanting to give an inch of what he’s given to you. And he has─given so fucking much to you. Given you anything you asked for and more. You want to give him what he needs now— you.

You take him into your mouth, and you can’t hold the moan you let out at the taste of him. His hand tightens in your hair, wrapping around the length of it in a makeshift ponytail. He says your name, over and over, and with each slow motion of your mouth you take more of him in. You’re greedy— swirling your tongue around his head, taking your time to memorise the taste of him, the way he sounds when you take him deeper.

“Fuck— so fu— shit.” His head falls back, the rest of the words getting lost in choked out moans. The broken way he’s trying to tell you how good it feels only spurs you on, taking him deeper, not caring what you sound like or look like, only caring that he feels as good as he gives.

Taking him to the back of your throat, you swallow around him, and he borderline growls before the hand in your hair pulls you up slowly. You know it’s messy but you get the feeling he likes it, the way he holds you there, inches above him, his eyes flitting over your face.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He says lowly, and pulls you up so quick your arms give out, but he’s too fast for you to care. Swinging you underneath him, his mouth is on you, swallowing you like he’s never had you before. It’s desperate and messy, and it’s everything you missed about him, teeth and tongue and hands are all you can focus on.

It’s what it’s always like with him— everything ceases to exists, nothing else matters when he’s here in front of you, when he’s kissing you like you really are that fucking gorgeous and he can’t get enough. One arm wraps around his neck, the other is taken above your head by his free hand, fingers interlocking.

It’s something he does a lot when your like this, and you can almost read him through it. How his hand gets tighter the longer he fucks you, how he holds it there and doesn’t let go, keeps one hand on you until it’s no longer possible. Like he needs to keep you in arms reach. It makes you feel safe, and when he slides into you, there’s no where else in the world that’s felt more right.

Neither of you say anything other than each others names as he drives into you, slow and deep. It feels perfect— right, and when he pulls back to look at your face, there’s something you go to say. Something you’ve said only once, and something he didn’t say back. Three little words, yet they feel so heavy in your chest.

You didn’t expect him to, and really, if this was all you got from him, the way each stroke makes you feel like you’re on fire, and how he kisses you with so much hunger it makes you light headed, you could live with it. It means something different to him— he’s had that before, and maybe it’s not something he wants to have again, but you do. You can’t help it. Not when he’s looking at you like he is now.

“Frank…” You shudder as the hand on your hip trails softly across your stomach, down between your legs to circle your clit. He hums, the feeling against your collarbone as he dips his head to kiss you there, driving you closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby. Taking me so fucking good.” He speeds up, lifting his head and pressing his forehead to yours. His hand squeezes yours and you’re pretty sure your eyes roll back in your head, the rhythm of his hand and hips sending you into over drive.

“Close, Frankie. Please—“ You beg for everything he’s already giving you, and he obliges.

“Atta girl. Let go for me.” He whispers into your ear, and your release cracks open from your chest and floods your body with warmth, your thighs already shaking around Frank. “Fuck— that’s its, I fucking… I love you.”

At the last second he pulls out, and you feel him spill onto your bare skin, the sensation only sending you further into your own pleasure. His mouth is on you in the second after his confession, telling you everything all at once, but you are too blissed out to know the magnitude of it.

The gentle caress of his thumb over your knuckles where your hands are joined brings you down, and the solid weight of his body on yours takes your focus, allowing your heart beat to slowly return to normal.

He picks up a shirt and cleans you off slowly, then slides another one over your head. It smells like him— his shirt. You’ve worn it before, but then in dawns on you that the only other shirt in the room was the one you were wearing before. Matt’s shirt, that he just used to clean you off after—

“Tell me you didn’t just use what I think you did.” He doesn’t lift his head from where it’s buried in the crook of your neck, but he doesn’t need to. You feel him smile, and you’d have the mind to say something but he’s so real and he’s here— that when he picks up his head and smiles at you, you just kiss him again. “I hope you plan to wake me up like that every morning.”

“You don’t wear anything else other than this—“ His hand fists the shirt you have on “— and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“How’d you get here so fast?” He pulls you onto his chest, and you squint, the sun shining brightly into your face.

“Not that fast. It’s 3pm.” Your fingers trace soft lines along his chest, straying further down when you touch the metal chain that holds his wedding ring. “Besides, had a little motivation to get me here.”

“A blowjob?”

“Jesus.” You look up, seeing him turn his head away from you to try and hide the red in his face, and burst out laughing.

“I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know if I’d see you after they—”

“I would’ve come found you wherever they took you.” It’s only one sentence but it makes your heart feel like it’s on fire. “But that’s not what I meant. I—“

You both hear the door open, and three voices fill the once quiet apartment.

“Later.” You whisper to him and swing out of the bed, very aware of how Franks eyes trail you when you stand, his shirt only just covering your ass. “Clothes?”

“Bags in the bathroom.” His hands rest under his head, making no move to get up.

You grab some clothes, making a conscious effort to take Matt’s dirty shirt off the floor and shove it underneath your bag, and quickly change before the voices outside the door get too close. Coming out of the bathroom, Frank has found another shirt, and is doing up his belt Once his hands are free they are on you, like he’s holding on to the last three seconds of time alone you have.

As much as you can’t wait to see your brother just outside— you know he’s safe, and you can hear him laugh at something, so you lean into the touch, coming up on your toes and turning your head to kiss him. He groans against your mouth, feeling your fingertips tread through his hair, and if the voices weren’t so close to the door, you’d lock it and keep him here all day.

“Later.” He says before kissing you on the forehead and letting you go, heading towards the door.

Opening it, your feet move faster than your brain does, and Sam spots you as soon as you walk into the room. He calls your name, giving you enough time to see his face— safe and smiling, before he grabs you and hugs you tight.

“Missed you too.” When he lets go, you bend down, and then you see his bandaged hand. “What’s this?”

“Tried to change a lightbulb. Don’t worry about it.” Frank answers for him, and the two of them look at each other with some kind of knowing look, but Sam looks grateful so you don’t push it.

“You been okay?” Sam nods, looking over to Karen and Matt.

“Yeah. I ate six pancakes for lunch. They just kept bringing them on these plates! It was fucking cool.” You can’t wipe the giant grin off your face, and you turn to Karen and Matt.

“Thank you.” Karen smiles and Matt shrugs, and then you remember what you’re here for. “I’m really— I don’t know how to repay you guys for everything. If there’s anything you need from me…”

“All I need is time. And for you to keep your guard dog from peeing on my floor.” Matt motions to Frank, and before you can figure out how he knows where exactly Frank is, he’s continuing. “Bobby Gnucci is AWOL. Without him, we have to rely entirely on getting Agent Madani to grant you immunity after the fact.”

“After the fact of what?”

“When you came to her the first time, and said you’d work with her, you didn’t sign anything. There wasn’t any record of it, there was no terms— no one even knew your face. Now she’s got you on record, and practically extracted all the information she needs to clear her own name. Knowing her, she’s not going to throw you under the bus, but without Bobby…” It’s clear even Matt is still trying to work through this thing. He sits down on the couch in front of him, Karen moving around next to him. “We have two options.”

“Okay.”

“One, we go to trial. That means sitting you in front of a public jury, your face and your brothers plastered on every newspaper and television in New York. It won’t be long before it turns national, considering your… record.”

“You’re supposed to win trials. You’re a god damn lawyer— it’s your job.” Frank says, standing behind you.

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t win. I said it would be public. Everyone would know you. Ignoring public opinion, the thing that’s been keeping you safe all these years is the fact that no one knows who you are. Once they put a face to the name… you’ve killed people in almost every major gang and organisation in the country. Bobby could be the least of your worries.” You swallow hard. Having enemies in New York was hard enough to track— let alone the entire country. And then your brother would be involved… you look to Frank, who knows exactly what it means to have enemies who would stop at nothing to hurt you, including going through one’s you love.

“Option two?” You say hopefully, and Matt sighs.

“Did you ever read what happened after the Punisher trial?” The question confuses you, but you rack your brain. You remember reading about the trial, and how hated he was. You don’t think you ever asked about the outcome, although you assumed he got out. He’s here, and free— which is more you can say for you.

“I don’t think so?”

“They killed him.” Karen says, and you laugh for a second before you realise she’s not joking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Madani. She faked my death in a shootout. Said I got caught in the crossfire. Made me a passport and got me a new life just outside the city.” Frank continues, and you turn to face him.

“And that worked?”

“For a while.” He says, a hand brushing yours. He looks back up to Matt. “You reckon she’d go for it?”

“Not without a lot of work. I’d need time. And a reason for you to…”

“Die? Surely we can find that. People get shot every day in New York.”

“Your brother, too. And it would still mean your faces go public. It has to be big.” You look at Frank, and he’s got that trained look in his eye that tells you he’s thinking the same thing as you.

“You said Bobby went AWOL. How do you know?” You pick up the newspaper on the desk, reading over Karen’s article about the death of the Colonel.

“Ever since they got Sam out, he’s disappeared. No phone calls, no emails, not even a ping on any of their networks. It’s like he’s completely disappeared.” Karen says.

There’s one place you can think of. One place that’s dark enough, lonely enough and isolated enough that someone could disappear for weeks, months even and no one would ever know. One place that no one would be looking anymore because it’s supposed to be desolate and evacuated.

“I’ve got a feeling we can avoid that all together.” You look up at Frank, and he smirks. “Feel like another road trip?”

“Road trip?” Karen asks, and they both stand from the couch.

“Washington D.C. He’ll be there.” Frank says as you put the article down.

“How do you know?”

“There’s only one place I know where a guy like that can disappear. Plus, he’s sentimental. He knows I know where he’ll be, and he wants me to come to him.”

He wants you to come back to him— that was the real truth, but there’s only one man you’d cross state lines for, one man you’d cross anything for, and he was standing right beside you, like he’d do for as long as you’d let him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Klainebingo 2023

Thank you for hosting this event! I’m an old school reader and admittedly haven’t read much new stuff post-2016 or so, so it’s been absolutely lovely to find some new stories and authors!

1 Reverb (2018) by Fickelodeon

2 Wouldn’t Change a Thing (2020) by nontarelationship 

3 You Will Be Found (2020) by kurtswish

4 Avian Series (2020) by kurtswish (Occupation: Superhero Costumer)

5 Even Better Than the Real Thing (2020) by gleekto

6 Andante, Andante (2020) by fionapear 

7 Courting Royalty (2022) by hundredindecisions (Challenge: 3-2-1 Prompt Bang 2022)

8 (N/A)

9 Head Versus Heart (2020) by dizzywhiz (Trope: Hurt/Comfort)

Thanks for your list!!  Find them on ao3.  Rules here

1. Debut fic:  Reverb by Fickelodeon

Post-Michael thru Season 4, Blaine’s just a little unwell, and it’s not long before everyone can tell. Physical and Mental illness. Hurt/Comfort. If Robin Cook wrote for Glee and General Hospital, the story would probably go like this. Universe Expansion for Seasons 3 and 4 wherein I add some elements to canon and leave some out but manage to get everyone back to place where they can still have the endings they got in canon. Honestly, I just wanted to write H/C, but the more I hurt Blaine, the more I realized he wasn’t going to handle that very well, so I added in diagnosed mental illness. All in all, it’s everything I love to read in fic all in one epic story, just in case I don’t ever get the chance to write these characters again.

2.  Page turner:  Wouldn’t Change a Thing  by notarelationship

On the eve of his junior year at Dalton, Blaine’s dad kicks him out of the house, dumping him at the bus stop, cutting him off, and leaving him homeless. This is the story of how he survives, meets Kurt, and ultimately triumphs.

3. Need Tissues:  You Will Be Found  by @kurtswish

While on a National Broadway Tour, Kurt meets an intriguing man. With more than just miles separating them, they must make a choice. Will they go back to their different lives, or will they let themselves be found?

4. Unusual occupation: Avian Series by @kurtswish

Kurt Hummel always felt separate from his world and being the only one without a Soulmark didn’t help. Just as he is ready to end it all, something happens to change the course of his life.  Parts 1 - 3

5. Your choice:  Even Better Than the Real Thing by @gleekto

College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

6. Summer story:  Andante, Andante  by fionapear

Burt settles himself down in the chair of the vanity, peering up at the wall-mount TV at the movie. He fishes in his pocket for the piece of paper from the restaurant earlier. His fortune cookie fortune reads: “With time comes understanding.” It feels a little apt, even if he can’t place exactly why.

(Or: In which Burt Hummel, slowly, begrudgingly, grows to accept Blaine’s presence in his life.)

7. Written for a challenge:  Courting Royalty  by hundredindecisions  @thnxforknowingmeme

During Kurt’s senior year, his friend Rachel gets some surprising news: she’s the princess of a tiny European country, and she has a twin brother to share the throne with. The summer after graduation, Kurt visits his newly-royal friend in the country she’s heir to before they head to New York for college. Staying in a castle and rubbing shoulders with European nobility is pretty overwhelming, but the most remarkable part is meeting Rachel’s brother Blaine, the new prince who Kurt instantly begins crushing on. This summer is either going to be a fairy tale come true, or result in multiple diplomatic catastrophes.Inspired by Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries series and the movie adaptations, but no background knowledge is needed to understand the fic.

8. n/a

9.  Genre/trope you wouldn’t normally read:  Head Versus Heart by @dizzywhiz

Blaine gets hit by a taxi and ends up in the hospital - so naturally, as his best friend and long-standing roommate, Kurt visits him at every possible opportunity until he gets to come home.

It only takes a couple of visits before Kurt notices something impossibly endearing: the beeping of Blaine’s heart rate monitor speeds up whenever his friends come to visit. At least, Kurt assumes it happens with all of Blaine’s friends, until Sam has no idea what he’s talking about.

#Jen

[amarriageoftrueminds]

idk how familiar you are with modern captain america comics/most recent cap stuff, but they're so bad and so endgame-like in how it just throws random ideas at a wall to see what sticks, but it just ends up covering any good ideas they manage to get with 💩 . and the newest ones just seem to resent the fact that they're writing a book with Bucky & Steve, at times it literally feels like those "not team cap friendly" fanfictions with the way they get their characters so wrong go to lengths to "prove" (thru OOC writing) that the friendship of this franchise isn't important/overrated to uplift other things in its place 🙃

Like I would love nothing more if the creative team suddenly got replaced/got their 💩 together and continued this awful plotline with Bucky & Steve genuinely being part of the same team, because for some reason marvel seems to avoid Steve & Buck fighting alongside each other like it's the worst thing ever... even though they're supposed to be BFFs??? so like my delusional hope for this 💩 to turn itself around is if we finally a long term Bucky Steve team up

and if I was in charge, I'd retcon away a lot of the Cold War OOC-ness that felt spiteful and destructive/regressive & instead add some of my own constructive retcons to enhance and progress Bucky & Steve's old canon dynamic instead of mischaracterizing it and crushing it and trying to wipe it away, something like:

And after the events of the Cold War event, Steve and Bucky join forces once again finally and have a heart to heart after being reminded of the last time they teamed up together -- Steve recalls when he first met Bucky at Camp Lehigh before being injected with the superserum, and he remembers the way Bucky protected small skinny Steve Rogers at bootcamp without even asking for anything in return. This was the foundation of Steve's trust in Bucky, how Bucky stepped up as Steve's protector and guardian angel(with a shotgun) -- And Bucky reminds Steve that he always protected him from the cold harsh realities of war and bloodshed and was the one to do the dirty work that needed to be done; Bucky got his own hands dirty to keep Steve's hands clean -- And in the wake of the events with the Outer Circle, Steve confesses to Bucky that he doesn't want Bucky to have to do that, tells him that if he needs to get his hands dirty too, then so be it, as long as they do it together. -- Steve pleads Bucky to watch his back and be his (fallen)guardian angel again, to not leave him again -- Steve opens his arms and Bucky accepts wraps and morphs* his arm around Steve like a metal wing as a protective symbol, a sign of his commitment to watch over Steve like he has always done.

.*I actually don't like the stuff these new comics did to Bucky's arm, chopping it off and adding a "freakier" "evil" one, it feels like they are doing it to (ableist-ly) dehumanize Bucky as "damaged" and "corrupted" like how marvel always loves to do to the guy imprisoned and tortured by Nazis, but if Bucky's gonna have a shapeshifting metal arm then they could at least use it to create some (positive) visual symbolism, but doing that requires an actual love for the characters which the new(ish) creatives in charge of Bucky & Steve seem to be devoid of

I don't read them (and frankly don't know why anyone who liked the characters still would) but I've seen the bad panels on twitter. And... it's the homophobia.

They must be separated and undermined and the disabled one must be demonized and made monstrous because #givecapaboyfriend trended on twitter and Sebastian Stan's contract is ending. They hired artistically bankrupt writers with no interest or investment in the characters, and no intention of bettering themselves, because those writers had those qualities. And Lady Brexit must be lionized and shoved down our throats at all cost to cover up the fact that they adapted a Nazi character, and because the actress fucked Tom Cruise and made herself seem briefly relevant and useful to have on staff again.