#and i’m like damn jesus christ. i was planning to if you didn’t know!! my god

[mildmayfoxe]

my asst manager coworker is the kind of person who will get snappish or sarcastic if you ask her a question at the wrong time and it’s so irritating to work with that kind of attitude. i have to guess when might be a good time to find out something that she might know about and if i get it wrong i get to go be mad in the other room when she treats me like im stupid because i just asked her a question. like dude we are all busy. i’m not doing this to bother you specifically i just thought you might KNOW. god forbid i think you might be aware of something!

[filmologetica]

BEHAVIOR — dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader.

the one where: you and dean are trying your hardest to have sex but everyone seems to be against it.

warnings: +18. kind of smutty, language, fingering, blue balls king. english is not my first language and it’s 2am here so it might have some incorrect english i plan on checking later.

a/n: this was… something. i’m thinking about a part 2, let me know if you want it <3.

Dean didn’t know if anyone had ever died from blue balls, but if not, he could easily be the first.

Two weeks. It has been two weeks now that Dean and his girlfriend were trying to get some alone time, but it seemed impossible. Every time someone had something they forgot in the room they were heavily making out in and took too long to head out, killing the mood completely, or something urgent to talk to them, or something that needed to be done. Every damn time. And when they finally had time at night they were exhausted, completely worn out.

The tension was growing between them and they just couldn’t help it. They fought for every stupid reason, everything seeing to be extremely frustrating.

“Did you get the milk I asked you to yesterday?” Y/N’s voice was low. She was tired, frustrated and horny. More than that, she was fucking angry with the life she chose. Walking back to back killing monsters was fucking exhausting. She needed a break.

Everyday something new was getting on her nerves. Ghosts, demons, angels and even Lucifer himself. Jesus Christ, she had no more patience for anything.

“Shit, I forgot. Sorry, babe.” Dean was just as exhausted as her, but he was used to this life. What he was not used to was spending fourteen long days with zero sex.

Zero intimacy. Not even a lazy handjob. Of course he could take care of himself but once he was in a relationship - or sort of - he needed to be deep in the woman he craved. And oh, boy, he was craving her. Everything was enough to make his dick wake up and twitch inside his pants.

Every.

Single.

Thing

made him end up with a boner that he wished you would take care of but there was always something in the way.

Fourteen days. And counting.

“Fucking hell, Dean. Is it too much to ask for you to pay attention to the things I tell you?” You snapped, slamming your mug to the counter.

Sam looked up, rolling his eyes knowing very well you two were about to start another pointless argument. Dean wasn’t exactly helping his situation either, as he raised his voice. “If I pay attention to every single thing you talk about every day, there goes my whole day. You never shut up.”

“I’m really sorry. I forgot the only woman you’re capable of listening to are the stupid whores you fuck at every bar we step into.”

“Yeah, at least I can fuck them.”

“Fuck you, Dean.” Your mug was now forgotten in the counter as you marched out of the kitchen, your face red with anger. You knew Dean didn’t mean it. It has been like this for days now, just pointless arguments about nothing.

“Dude, just- Go talk to her.” It was almost like Sam was stuck in a loop all over again. That’s how he felt. He had now lost count of how many times he had said this exact same thing, the exact same way. “I’ll go buy the fucking milk.”

Sam had no idea what was happening. Your relationship with Dean was a secret and that was a deal that you both made until you figured out what it was. Of course sleeping together every night wasn’t exactly nothing but you agreed in taking things slow.

Dean entered your room without even knocking, closing the door behind him with a kick. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” He sighed, letting his body fall in your bed. “I don’t want to keep fighting, I’m sorry. You know I listen to you, it’s just- It’s been too much.”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry about what I said. I just-” Dean looked at her, knowing exactly what she would say. “I miss you.”

“Yeah?” Tracing an invisible line at her exposed leg, Dean was taking his time feeling how soft her skin was.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm.” His hand was now not so innocent, getting to her thighs still gently. The touch enough to make her shiver. “What are you missing?”

Opening her legs, Y/N exposed her delicate lingerie. It was red, and Dean could feel his mouth water with the sight. Her tiny lace panties were now making him rock hard. He could see your pussy clearly and he was ready to show you how much he missed it. “I miss you right here.” Your hands entered the fabric, touching your clit gently.

“God, I love it when you act like a cock slut.” Lifting your dress a little more, Dean was taking up the view. You never needed much to make him hard, but this was a whole different level. It was like he was drunk on your smell.

“I love it when you fuck me with your fingers.” You said and Dean now moved the fabric to the side, to get a clearer view, chewing on his bottom lip. “It feels so good when you ease me up with one finger because I’m so fucking tight for you…”

And just to make Dean lose his mind, you add one finger to your drabbling pussy. It took to much of him to not roll his eyes and come undone without even taking off his pants. “And when you add another one… God, feels so good, baby.” One more finger in, another growl from Dean out.

“I’m going to fuck you good. Make you remember what it feels like when I’m filling you up.” With your most innocent face you nodded, more like begging Dean to fuck you.

When you felt his lips on yours in an urgent kiss, it felt like you were dreaming. His tongue sliding into your mouth roughly while you ran your fingers through his hair desperately. Now, he was on top of you and you could feel his bulge.

You could feel his cock while his hips trusted into you trying to make him feel better even with his clothes still on. When your hand found his boner, using enough pressure on it, Dean moaned into your lips. “Fuck. I need to be inside you.”

And just when his hands found his belt, a knock was heard on the door. “No!” You cried.

Dean sighed, absolutely frustrated and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “We can pretend there’s no one here. We put a pillow on your face and you make no sounds while I fuck you.”

You let out a quiet laugh, just as frustrated. “What if it’s important?”

“Y/N, this is important!” Dean was furious. Who wouldn’t be? He refused to add one more day to his blue balls count.

“Open up, guys!” Sam said loudly on the other side of the door.

“What the fuck does this guy want?” Dean got up while you adjusted your dress, trying your best to fix your hair quickly. “Yeah, Sam?”

As Dean opened the door, his face was definitely not friendly but it didn’t scare Sam, who entered the room and sat on the bed.

The bed you thought you were having sex seconds before. “We need to talk about your behavior.” He says.

“My what?” You ask and Dean rolls his eyes, thinking about hitting his head on the door a billion times to end his penalty.

“We’re gonna talk about what’s happening between you and Dean and solve this problem right now.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can fix, Sammy.” You wish you could punch him.

“Well, then I’m not leaving this room.”

And with that, Dean left to take a cold shower in his room after being cockblocked by Sam once again.

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (THIRTEEN)

A very angsty chapter but with a good ending! whoops! The positive will return, no worries! <3

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 4,3K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, talking about feelings, crying, realizations, angst (but with a happy ending)

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

“OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!” Lando’s voice rang through the hall as he barged into Oscar’s hotel room, eyes blazing with barely contained rage. “YOU ARE SO DEAD!”

Oscar, hunched over his suitcase, froze and looked up, bewildered. He could tell immediately that Lando was beyond furious, but he couldn’t fathom what had set him off.

“Lando, what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

Oscar had just arrived back after qualifying, planning to freshen up before heading over to your room, as he did every race weekend. He’d been thinking about you the entire way back, looking forward to unwinding together, the familiarity of those private moments giving him a sense of calm after the intensity of the day. But now, standing here, all he could do was rack his brain, trying to figure out what could have provoked Lando like this.

Lando’s fists clenched, the knuckles going white as he glared at Oscar with pure disgust. He slammed the door behind him, sending a tremor through the room. “Don’t play dumb with me, Oscar. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Oscar’s face twisted in confusion, his mind whirling. Was this some bizarre prank? Lando was known for his sense of humor, but this felt... different. More intense. More real. Slowly, he got up from his crouched position and perched himself on the edge of the bed, his voice calm but uncertain. “Lando, I seriously have no clue what’s going on. Did I do something wrong?”

Lando let out a humorless laugh, practically spitting the air out in disbelief. “Are you actually this clueless, or are you just lying straight to my face right now?”

Oscar’s patience was wearing thin. “Lando, for the last time, what is going on?” he demanded, voice rising as frustration bled into his tone.

Lando’s face twisted with anger, and he kicked the door behind him, a loud bang reverberating through the room. “Jesus Christ, Oscar, you’re a fucking asshole.” His eyes flashed as he took a step closer, his voice dripping with disdain. “Maybe next time, don’t lie to my sister about your so-called ‘feelings’ for her if you plan on sticking your tongue down someone else’s throat behind her back.”

Oscar’s heart stopped, his face going pale. “Lando,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, “What are you talking about? I had to kiss her on the cheek, nothing more. You knew about that—you know it meant nothing.”

But Lando’s expression only grew darker. “Oh, so now you’re not just an asshole; now you’re a liar too. I’m not talking about that.”

Oscar’s stomach twisted. He had no idea what Lando was getting at, but a cold unease settled over him. “What are you going on about, then?”

“If you were trying to hide your little escapade with that attention-seeking bitch, maybe next time you should close the damn door of your driver’s room before deciding to shove your tongue down her throat.”

Oscar’s face drained of color, realization finally sinking in. “Oh god, did you see that?” He stammered, starting to explain, but Lando cut him off sharply.

“I didn’t,” he hissed, eyes blazing, “but she did.”

Oscar’s heart shattered, his voice catching. “I promise, Lando, it’s not what it looked like.”

Lando’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” His fists clenched tighter, his voice deadly quiet. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Oscar. Because if you don’t—and I mean it—if you even think of stepping near her again, I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Oscar was left in stunned silence as Lando spat the words at him, guilt and regret washing over him like a tidal wave. His mind flickered back to what had happened earlier, replaying each moment with increasing dread.

*flashback to earlier*

Oscar had been in his driver’s room, unwinding after the high of qualifying, hoping to cool down before meeting up with you. Ava had followed him in, chattering on about the race and the PR obligations they’d fulfilled. They shared a laugh about the awkward peck on the cheek they’d had to perform for the cameras, the faint taste of staged affection still lingering.

“You looked so stiff out there, Oscar,” Ava teased, smirking. “You know, if we don’t make it look real, they’re going to know. We should really practice if we want people to buy it.”

Oscar tensed, shifting uncomfortably. “I think we’re fine, Ava. It’s just PR. We’re not meant to look that serious anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his hesitation. “Come on, Oscar. Don’t be so uptight. This is for show. It doesn’t mean anything.” Her voice softened, and she took a step closer, her eyes glittering. “Let me teach you a few tricks. Just… trust me.”

He backed away slightly, eyeing the door. “This really isn’t a good idea, Ava. It could easily go too far.”

But Ava seemed determined, giving him a knowing smile as she leaned in and pecked him lightly on the lips, her eyes flickering toward the door. Oscar felt his stomach clench, a mix of unease and annoyance. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. He was only doing this entire act to protect you from unwanted scrutiny and questions.

“See?” she murmured, stepping closer still, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s not so bad. A bit of practice never hurt anyone.”

Before he could protest, she was kissing him again, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him in closer. He hesitated, feeling every fiber of his being rejecting this, but her hand slid around to the back of his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss. Uncertain, he felt her hand snake up into his hair, tugging lightly as she pressed closer, the intensity escalating.

Oscar was caught off guard, feeling her press her hips into his, guiding his hands to rest on her waist. He’d barely noticed the way her eyes darted toward the door, a glint of mischief flashing in them as if she knew someone was watching.

He froze, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of discomfort, his mind flooded with the realization of how much he didn’t want any of this. Summoning all the strength he had, he pushed her away, breaking the kiss and stepping back, his face flushed with frustration and embarrassment.

“Ava, this isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I’m not comfortable with this at all. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

She smirked, feigning innocence. “Oh, really? You didn’t seem uncomfortable a second ago.”

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing this PR stunt for the sake of appearances. To protect someone I care about. But I’m not going to pretend that you and I…" he said, gesturing his finger in her direction and then back to himself "are anything real, because it's anything but.” He gestured to the door, his voice quiet but firm. “Please. Just leave.”

She shrugged, her smirk lingering as she made her way out, leaving him alone in the room, a strange mix of relief and dread pooling in his stomach.

*end of flashback*

The memory dissolved, and Oscar found himself back in the awkward quiet of his hotel room, his heart pounding in his chest as Lando’s words echoed in his mind. You’d seen it. You’d seen everything.

Oscar’s stomach twisted violently, leaving him feeling nauseated and weak. His mind was a churning mess, every second replaying the scene, the look on Ava’s face, the moment he’d seen her eyes flick toward the door. That sickening realization that she had known. And worse, that you had seen it all. It was as if the ground had been ripped out from under him; his legs felt unsteady, his heart beating erratically, each thud filling him with a helpless dread.

Lando looked down at him, his expression hard and unyielding, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was no pity in his stare, only barely controlled rage mixed with something that might have been desperation. Lando’s voice was low, but the intensity cut through the air like a knife. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true, Oscar, or if you’re just a damn good liar,” he said. “But if you’re serious about this, if you really care about her, you’d better get your ass over there and fix this. Because I don't ever wanna see that look on her face, ever again.”

Lando’s words struck hard, each one landing like a punch. The warning wasn’t just a threat; it was a declaration, a fierce brotherly loyalty that Oscar knew was unwavering. The way Lando looked at him, with such disdain mixed with pain, it cut Oscar to his core.

“If I find out you’re lying,” Lando continued, his jaw clenched, “I will make sure you lose that seat at McLaren. I’ll make it my mission, Oscar. You know how much my sister means to me.” He shook his head, an angered exhale escaping him. “I warned you about hurting her.”

Oscar couldn’t hold back any longer. His voice shook as he forced the words out, raw and desperate. “Lando, I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.” His hands clenched at his sides as he looked down, feeling his chest tighten painfully. “This is… it’s such a horrible misunderstanding. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

Emotion welled up inside him, a mix of fear, shame, and regret, and he felt his throat close up, his vision blurring. His breath grew uneven, and despite himself, a tear slid down his cheek. Then another, until he could feel the hot, shameful trail of them spilling freely, powerless to stop.

Lando’s expression softened slightly as he watched Oscar crumble before him, the fight momentarily leaving his own features as he absorbed the depth of Oscar’s remorse. He looked away for a moment, as if weighing his options, and then his voice came, gruff but more measured. “Then you need to go to her,” he said quietly. “Go to her, now. She’s going to be devastated. If you’re telling the truth, you can fix this. But you’d better go now.”

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding. He was already reaching for his jacket, his heart still pounding but with a sense of urgency to repair the damage. He couldn’t bear the thought of you feeling hurt, betrayed. The very thought twisted the knife in his gut, driving him forward.

“One more thing.” Lando’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and Oscar turned back to see him standing firm, his eyes cold again. “This PR thing—it’s making things worse. If you really want a future with her, end it. Because if this ever happens again, you’re going to lose her. And you’re going to lose a hell of a lot more.”

Oscar met his gaze, giving a solemn nod. “You’re right. I’ll stop it. I can’t… I can’t put her through this.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the conviction was there.

Lando held his gaze a beat longer, then sighed, giving a slight nod of grudging acceptance. “Go fix this, Oscar. And don’t make me regret trusting you.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

After spending time with Lando, letting yourself unload the heartbreak and confusion, you’d assured him you’d be alright eventually—that you just needed some time alone. Retreating to your hotel room, you tried desperately to hold yourself together, to avoid being swallowed whole by the storm of emotions that seemed intent on drowning you. But the harder you tried, the more impossible it felt.

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the sight was sobering. Your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with smudged mascara that had streaked down your cheeks in uneven, telltale lines. You looked broken, more raw and vulnerable than you could remember feeling in a long time. The weight of it settled heavily, pressing down on you with each passing second.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Startled, you wiped your face quickly, taking a deep, steadying breath before walking over to the door. You didn’t open it, unwilling to let anyone see you like this. “Lando,” you called out, your voice strained, “I told you I’m fine. Just… just go.”

But instead of your brother’s familiar voice, you heard the voice you least expected—and least wanted to hear.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Oscar’s voice was soft, rough around the edges. You froze, feeling your heart twist painfully at the sound of him. Every part of you wanted to sink against the door, to open it, to confront him. But instead, you stiffened, the hurt quickly filling the space where vulnerability once lingered.

“Just leave me alone,” you managed, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Please, baby,” Oscar’s voice broke on the word, thick with desperation. “Please, open the door. Let me explain. It’s all… it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

A wave of emotion washed over you, and your chest tightened as you sank slowly to the floor, resting your back against the door as you fought to keep your voice steady. “There’s nothing to explain, Oscar. I was there. I saw it,” you whispered, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face between them, as if trying to block out the memory of it.

“You don’t get it, Y/N,” he pressed, his voice breaking again. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You let out a bitter laugh, muffled as you pressed your head against your knees. “Oscar,” you mumbled, voice hollow, “You had your tongue down her throat. There wasn’t any press around, no cameras to put on a show for. You can’t call it anything but what it was.” Your voice was so quiet, almost fragile, just loud enough for him to hear through the door. “Besides… It's not like you owe me anything. We were never exclusive. I’m not your girlfriend.” You swallowed hard, the words cutting deep. “And considering what I saw, it’s obvious you don’t want that either."

There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you two, heavy and painful. You could feel him on the other side of the door, his presence almost palpable, and it took everything in you not to reach for the handle. But your heart was guarded, waiting, hesitant to give in so easily.

The silence was broken by a ragged, unsteady breath, and then you heard him sink down to the floor on the other side of the door, mirroring you, with only the cold, impersonal wood between you.

“Please… please don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I know I don’t deserve for you to listen to me right now, but it wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t real.” His voice cracked, and you could hear the tremor in his words, the strain of holding back tears. “Ava, she… she forced it. I didn’t want it, I didn’t—I pushed her away.” His words were stumbling, broken by emotion, and you could feel his desperation as he tried to explain himself, to make you see the truth he was so desperate for you to understand.

You stayed silent, torn between wanting to believe him and the vivid memory of what you had seen. Part of you, the part that had loved and trusted him, wanted to believe every word. But another part, the one that had been hurt, was afraid to trust again, afraid to be vulnerable. You felt your throat tighten, your hands curling into fists as you struggled to hold back your own tears, feeling them dry on your cheeks as you pressed yourself harder against the door.

He paused, gathering himself before continuing, his voice raw with honesty and regret. “She kept… pushing it, saying we needed to make it look real enough for people to believe it. She’d go on about how it would all fall apart if we didn’t act convincing, kept saying we had to practice that stupid kiss.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I told her no, but she just wouldn’t stop pressing, and then she just kissed me"

He took a shaky breath, his words fractured and heavy with guilt. “I-I didn’t want it,” he stammered, his voice thick as he tried to speak through his tears. “I swear… I didn’t want any of it.” His voice cracked, a choked sob escaping as he struggled to keep going, the desperation evident in every trembling syllable.

You heard him shift against the door, his back pressed firmly as if trying to ground himself. “I felt trapped,” he continued, his words punctuated by small, hitched breaths. “Like… like if I didn’t go along with it, I’d ruin everything—the whole stupid plan. And… I didn’t want to drag you into that. I was scared. I didn't want to ruin things for you”

Another tear-choked breath left him, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I… I couldn’t keep doing it. I pushed her away. I told her I couldn’t—” His voice broke, a raw, unsteady exhale filling the silence as he struggled to compose himself. “I told her it was wrong. I told her it was wrong, and I wanted it to stop.”

His voice faded, overcome by a quiet sob that made the door between you feel thin, almost nonexistent. The vulnerability in his tears was unmistakable, and even in the silence, you could feel the weight of his remorse pressing against you.

Oscar’s voice grew softer, pleading. “You don’t have to say anything if… if you don’t want to. But I just need you to know that it wasn’t me. I didn’t want that, any of it.” His voice faltered, but he kept going. “I’m done with this stupid agreement, this entire PR stunt. I’ll quit it—even if it doesn’t mean I get you back. I just… I can’t keep doing this. I love you, Y/N.” His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper, the words raw and honest.

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something deep inside you, pulling you closer to that fine line between anger and forgiveness. You felt the sincerity of his words, the pain that bled through them, and despite yourself, part of you believed him. But the fear held you back, the hurt silencing the words that you wanted to say.

A silence fell between you, thick with unspoken words and shared pain. You could hear his shaky breathing through the door, and you knew he was crying. The sound wrenched at your heart, stirring a sadness that mixed with your own, leaving you feeling both hollow and heavy, unable to find the words to respond.

Moments later, footsteps echoed down the hallway. You could hear someone approaching, and then a familiar voice—one that made your stomach twist.

“Well, well, Oscar,” Ava’s voice cooed, feigning sympathy. “Is it really worth all this? She’s not worth it, you know.”

Oscar’s shoulders tensed, his breathing growing heavier as he turned to look at her, his eyes flashing with a newfound clarity, a sharpness born of betrayal. He recoiled from her, yanking his shoulder away from her touch, his expression a mixture of disgust and fury. Without a second thought, he rose to his feet, facing her with a look that could have frozen fire.

“You’ve done enough,” he spat, his voice low and filled with a venom you’d never heard before. “You’ve already ruined everything. Leave me alone.”

But Ava merely arched an eyebrow, her smile twisting as if amused by his anger. She opened her mouth, perhaps to retort, but Oscar didn’t give her a chance.

“Just… stay the hell away from me.” His voice was louder now, strong and unwavering, the raw pain of it echoing through the corridor. “I don’t ever want to see you near me again. Not at the track, not anywhere. You hear me?” He took a step back, his voice rising with each word, carrying both fury and anguish. “I’m done with this agreement. Done with you. Done with this entire PR stunt!”

The volume of his voice carried through the door, and even you could hear the finality in it. For a brief moment, the hurt and anger felt a bit lighter, a flicker of hope stirring beneath it all. The words he’d said, the fire in his voice—it felt real.

There was a shuffling of footsteps as Ava moved away, clearly surprised by his outburst. Oscar remained standing in the hallway, staring after her until the corridor grew silent again, empty save for him and the lingering echo of his words.

Slowly, he sank back down, his back pressed against the door again, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. He didn’t say anything else, but his quiet, broken presence felt closer than words could convey. And though your heart was still bruised, still guarded, you found yourself shifting slightly, pressing your shoulder to the door, closer to where you knew he sat on the other side.

Oscar took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping at his eyes as he sat against the door. You listened to the sounds leaving the Australian's mouth, still pressed against the other side, your heart aching with every tear-choked word he’d spoken. Slowly, as silence settled around you both, you felt him begin to shift, his weight moving as he gathered himself to leave. He exhaled quietly, almost as if he were accepting that this was the end, that he’d done all he could.

The thought of him leaving stirred something urgent within you, a longing that broke through the hurt and fear. Without fully thinking it through, you reached for the handle. Just as Oscar rose, taking a few hesitant steps away, you opened the door.

“Oscar,” you whispered, reaching out to grab his arm.

He turned around sharply, his red-rimmed eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at you, disbelief mingling with the faintest glimmer of hope. For a long, fragile moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the air thick with everything unsaid, every apology, every promise, every feeling that had built up over months. The intensity of his gaze, softened by the tears still brimming in his eyes, filled you with warmth, melting away the last of your hesitation.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I love you too, Oscar.”

The words seemed to break something within him. His face crumpled, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek as he reached out, cupping your face in his hands as if you were something precious, fragile, something he couldn’t bear to let slip away. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, his gaze so full of tenderness and vulnerability that it took your breath away.

And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with a quiet desperation, a raw need that spoke of every moment of anguish, of every ounce of longing he’d carried for you. His lips were soft but insistent, moving with a careful, almost reverent passion, as if he were pouring everything he felt into this one kiss. You could feel the slight tremble in his hands, the way his fingers pressed gently but firmly against your skin, grounding himself in your warmth.

The kiss deepened, slowly, his lips parting as he moved closer, pulling you into him as if he couldn’t bear to be separated by even a breath. His tears mingled with yours, salty and warm, the emotions overwhelming as the kiss became a quiet exchange of love and sorrow, each movement a promise, a silent plea to never let go. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you held him close, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him.

His tongue brushed lightly against your bottom lip, a gentle request that you answered by parting your lips, allowing him in. As your tongues met, a wave of emotion washed over you both, the kiss growing deeper, more intense, every second drawing you closer, until it felt as though nothing else in the world existed but the two of you. The taste of him, the softness of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours—it was intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting into him, surrendering fully to the quiet, consuming love that bound you together.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew needier, more fervent, yet still so achingly tender. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, slow and deliberate, savoring each touch, each taste, until the world seemed to fade away. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even further, his tongue caressing yours with a slow, deliberate intimacy that left you breathless. It was as if he was pouring every unsaid word, every unexpressed feeling, into this moment, and you could feel it in every movement, every touch, every trembling breath.

After what felt like a lifetime, the two of you slowly broke apart, your foreheads coming to rest against each other as you both tried to catch your breath, your eyes still closed, savoring the warmth and closeness. His hands lingered on your cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your skin as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, to lose this connection even for a moment.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of emotion. “Please be mine.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, and he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that took your breath away. “I’ve always been yours,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You managed a small, tearful smile, your fingers brushing over his cheek, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “I mean… for real this time. Be my boyfriend. Please,” you said, your voice a soft, tender plea.

A smile broke through his tears, a pure, radiant joy lighting up his face as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with a love so deep it was almost overwhelming. “There’s nothing I would love more,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling with happiness.

And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, you felt the pain and heartache begin to fade, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth, a promise of something real, something lasting.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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[shybluebirdninja]

Winter Shrink

Summary: When Bucky accidentally gets shrunk to the size of a cat by one of Tony’s gadgets, his girlfriend has to help him navigate life from a dollhouse while avoiding getting squished by her Roomba.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Girlfriend-Reader Genre             : Fluff

It started like any other day. Well, any other day when you’re dating a super-soldier who constantly gets roped into Stark’s science projects. You were lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Bucky burst through the door with that serious look on his face — the one that usually meant some weird shit had gone down.

“Hey babe,” he called, his voice sounding... odd. You glanced up, expecting to see him in his usual towering, intimidating form. Except... you didn’t see him.

You blinked. “Bucky?”

“Down here.”

You looked down, and your jaw literally dropped. There he was, Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier himself, but he was no taller than a freaking cat. Maybe even smaller.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped, covering your mouth in shock. “What the hell happened to you?”

Bucky, standing on your hardwood floor in his tiny combat boots, crossed his arms over his mini vibranium arm like he was still the most badass thing in the room. “Stark happened. Dumbass was messing with some size-reduction tech. Next thing I know, I’m fun-sized.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. Like, full-on hysterics.

Bucky’s tiny face twitched. “It’s not that funny.”

“Bucky, you’re like... like a doll!” you choked between giggles. “Oh my god, I can’t breathe.”

“Glad to see you’re taking this seriously,” he muttered, looking thoroughly unimpressed as he stomped over to the leg of the coffee table. Which, at his current size, was basically the height of a damn tree.

You wiped away a tear, trying to regain your composure. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. But seriously, how long are you gonna be like this?”

Bucky glanced up at you, his tiny hands on his hips. “Tony said a few hours, maybe more.”

“Oh great,” you said, trying not to laugh again. “So what, I just have to babysit mini-Bucky until he figures it out?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Bucky grumbled. “I’m still the Winter Soldier, doll. Just… compact.”

You snorted. “Right, right. You’re so scary right now.”

Bucky’s scowl deepened, but before he could say anything else, you heard a low hum from the other room. Your eyes widened in realization. The Roomba.

“Shit, Bucky, move!”

“What—?”

You darted forward just as the Roomba rounded the corner like a robot assassin, heading straight for Tiny Bucky. He turned, eyes going wide as the thing came barreling toward him.

“Seriously? A fucking Roomba?!” Bucky yelped, diving out of the way just in time.

You snatched him up in one hand, clutching him to your chest like an action figure while the Roomba buzzed past. “Holy crap, you almost got squished.”

Bucky’s tiny heart was pounding against your fingers, but he quickly brushed it off, trying to act like he hadn’t just narrowly avoided death by robot vacuum. “I had it under control.”

“Sure you did,” you teased, still holding him in your hand like a living GI Joe. “Should I get you a dollhouse or something? You know, so you have a safe base of operations.”

Bucky shot you a glare. “Don’t push it.”

But the idea of him living in a dollhouse was just too good to pass up. You carried him over to the coffee table and gently set him down, making sure to keep him out of Roomba’s range.

“So,” you said, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, “what’s the plan, Mini Barnes? Just hang out and hope Tony doesn’t take his sweet time fixing you?”

Bucky, who had climbed onto a nearby book to avoid feeling like a speck on the table, shrugged. “Guess so. But if that thing—” he nodded toward the Roomba, still mindlessly circling the living room, “—comes near me again, I’m taking it out.”

You grinned. “I’d love to see that. You, taking down a Roomba with your tiny fists.”

Bucky flexed his mini vibranium arm like it was still the deadliest weapon in the world. “Don’t underestimate me just ‘cause I’m fun-sized.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m not,” you said, smirking. “You’re still pretty intimidating... you know, for a dude who’s shorter than my coffee mug.”

He sighed, running a hand through his shrunken hair. “This is fucking humiliating.”

“Come on, Bucky, it’s kinda cute.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and if looks could kill, well, you’d probably still be alive because it was hard to take him seriously when he was that size. “Cute?”

You nodded, grinning. “Yep. Cute. Like a little tough-guy action figure.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully. “I’m taking pictures later, too.”

He glared at you again. “If you do, I’ll—”

“What? Glare at my ankles?”

“Doll.”

You giggled, leaning down so you were eye level with him, his tiny face practically vibrating with frustration. “Okay, okay, I’ll cut you some slack… for now.”

Bucky, finally giving up on the idea of intimidating you, collapsed onto the table like a dramatic action figure who just lost his day job. “This better wear off soon. I’m not built for this.”

“Well, you are built small now,” you teased, earning yourself another mini-death-glare.

You were still laughing to yourself when the Roomba buzzed by again, and Bucky, from his spot on the table, narrowed his eyes. “That thing’s mocking me.”

You had to physically hold yourself back from laughing again. “Maybe it is. Maybe the Roomba’s the real enemy here.”

Bucky crossed his arms, staring the Roomba down like he was ready to declare war. “First Stark, then the Roomba. Everyone’s out to get me.”

“Well, at least you’ve still got me, soldier.” You winked at him, leaning back on your hands. “I’ll protect you from the big, bad vacuum.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, sure, doll. Whatever you say.”

[sleepiexx]

Can’t Lose You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

Note: way late to the party of writing for Ghost but y’know I had my fun

Summary: A mission goes slightly off plan, Simon doesn’t take it too well.

Warnings: he yells at u lmao, mention of injury, mention of blood, mention of stitches

Word count: 1190

Mere seconds after the rest of the team cleared out of the room to take off gear and rest for the night, leaving Ghost alone in a room with (Y/N), he snapped. The stress of the recent mission got in his head. It brewed nothing but trouble for him, anger festering until it boiled over. Namely the part where (Y/N) went into the enemy compound by herself— as she’d been ordered to do— when, unbeknownst to the team, her comms were cut leaving them with no way of telling whether she was alive or dead for a large chunk of their assignment.

It all worked out in the end but that did nothing to quell Ghost’s simmering rage.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot.” He growled, “It’s like you don’t care about your own god damn well being. You’re completely fucking reckless, do you even realize how easily you could have been killed!”

(Y/N) was surprised at Ghost’s hostile behavior, normally they were on good terms. If he was mad at anyone, it was never her. Not to mention that the situation had in no way been her fault.

She scoffed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger, “I was fine! Barely got hurt, I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in a twist over nothing.”

He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, the rational part of his brain could reason that it wasn’t even her fault. But he wasn’t thinking logically, he was thinking emotionally, and to him yelling seemed the only way to express big emotions, “It may not be this time, it may not be the next, but if you keep on like this, some day you are going to meet the consequences of your actions and it is not going to be pretty.”

By then, (Y/N) was pissed, “Jesus Christ, it’s not that serious, Ghost! This is my fucking job! I don’t see you getting onto anyone else like this. What, do you think I can’t handle myself because I’m a woman or some shit?”

“No it’s not that it’s-“ because I love you, “it’s-“

She was sick of the arguing and frankly could not stand the fact that he wouldn’t refute her claim of sexism. She never pegged him as the type, but sooner or later, most military guys showed their true colors.

“Yeah, while you try and think up some shitty excuse, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She stood from her seat quickly, black dotted her vision.

Ghost watched from behind, confused as she stood there swaying for a moment. Quicker than he could catch her, she slammed to the ground.

He was filled with alarm as he yelled out to her, “(Y/N)!” He was at her side in a split second, turning her onto her back.

“Fuck.” He muttered. She was out cold.

Ghost didn’t even think, it was second nature to help her. He pulled her off the ground, one arm behind her back, one under her knees. With her in his arms, he sprinted to the infirmary.

“Medic! I need a medic!” He screamed as he neared the infirmary.

All heads turned towards Ghost holding (Y/N) in his arms. Any medic who wasn’t previously occupied with an injured soldier ran towards them.

“What happened?” One of them asked, putting on latex gloves.

Ghost was shaken to his very core, even stuttering out a simple response was hard. “She just- she just fell, I don’t know.”

(Y/N) was taken from his arms and moved to a cot where they removed all of her gear. Her green shirt was heavily stained with blood, just below where her bulletproof vest ended.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost whispered. His hands made their way to his head to rake through his hair but he was stopped by his mask. Instead, he ran his hands up and down his head.

He felt horrible. He spent this whole time yelling at her instead of checking if she was okay and she wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been yelling at her in the first place, he only now realized that. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even disappointed, he was scared.

They lifted her shirt, revealing a huge gash that was overflowing with blood. The medic who was wearing gloves pressed gauze down harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding as another medic ran to get the suture kit.

14. She ended up getting 14 stitches in her abdomen. The wound narrowly missed her internal organs; had it been a hair's width closer, she’d be in a lot worse condition than she found herself in.

Ghost was mortified, she could have died. She could have died and the last conversation they would have had would have been him yelling at her for something he wasn’t even actually mad about.

He sat at her bedside, mask rested on the table beside him. He didn’t want the mask to be the first thing she saw when she woke up; he figured that it would scare her, and he’d antagonized her enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed over the knuckles on her limp hand. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Simon tilted his head towards the ceiling, blinking away tears. “It’s just… I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I know- I know you are more capable than anyone else at your job. Hell, I’ve seen it, seen how good you are at what you do. But, (Y/N), I love you, and I dread the day that someone gets the upper hand on you and you get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

He stopped his monologue the moment he felt her hand squeeze his back. His eyes shot down to see hers blinking up at him.

“Good thing that won’t happen,” she rasped. She parted her hand from his only so that she could reach for his face. “Where’d your other face go?”

“My other face?” He snorted, holding her hand to his cheek.

“Your skull.”

“Oh.” He said, glancing towards the mask on the table. “Didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me, Lieutenant.”

Simon shook his head, half disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to have heard his confession, half relieved.

“Oh and Lt.?”

He perked up to her calling him, “Yeah?”

She sat up ever so slightly before pulling him towards her in one swift movement, pressing their lips together. He was shocked by her actions but caught on quickly, kissing back with double the amount of passion she kissed him with. Her hands found themselves interlocked behind his neck while his came to clasp around her waist.

As they parted— hands still glued to the spots on either body that they held onto with a death grip— a spit trail kept them connected.

“Gross.” (Y/N) laughed, triggering Simon to laugh as well.

She stopped laughing to stare into his eyes, the ones that gleamed with love for her. “In case you couldn’t tell,” she started, “I love you too.”

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @steddiemas Day 1: Deck the Halls read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve’s annoyed.

More than annoyed, really.

He’s supposed to be at the Munson’s, sitting between Wayne and Eddie, watching the Hoosiers play. Well, trying to watch the game, at least. Eddie has a habit of dozing off before the first quarter ends, head thunking against Steve’s shoulder so he can’t move for the rest of the game.

But no.

His mom just had to call and demand he set up their stupid Christmas tree before she and his dad get home tonight because the annual Harrington Holiday House party is this weekend, and she doesn’t have time to do it herself. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s trusting him enough to decorate the thing. He can count on one hand how many times he was allowed to hang an ornament on the statement piece in their living room.

He can’t even celebrate the decorating victory, though, because he’s still trying to assemble the goddamn thing. Nine-foot trees really aren’t meant to be set up by one person. At least, that’s what Steve’s learning as he tries to balance the next segment of the tree over his shoulder as he climbs up the ladder.

Focused on not falling, Steve doesn’t hear the front door open or the stomps of boots coming into the room. It isn’t until Eddie tuts does Steve startles, nearly toppling over.

“Woah, there big boy,” Eddie teases, reaching out to steady the ladder. “Don’t fall.”

“Don’t scare me then,” Steve snaps. It takes a moment, but he manages to get the next piece into the slot before carefully climbing down the ladder.

“Christ, someone’s feisty today,” Eddie says, hands up in surrender. “I guess it’s a good thing you bailed on me and Wayne to uh…” He glances at the half-assembled tree in the middle of the room. “What are you doing exactly?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Building a stupid Christmas tree.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Eddie asks, shaking his head. “You can’t build trees. You grow trees.”

Steve snorts. “It’s an artificial tree, Eds. My mom called as I was headed out to your place. Said I needed to get the stupid thing up and fluffed before she got home tonight because she needs a full three days to decorate the damn thing for the annual Harrington Holiday House party.”

“This thing is blasphemous!” Eddie says, circling it like a predator stalking its prey. “I thought rich people love Christmas trees. Don’t you like custom order the biggest one to show off your wealth?”

“Uh, no? My mom says real trees make too much of a mess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie says, abandoning the tree as he stalks towards Steve. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had a real tree before? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You’re being weird,” Steve says, shaking Eddie’s hands off his shoulder.

“I am not being weird. You’re being weird. You’ve never had a Christmas tree! Do you even know what they smell like? Steve, you haven’t lived until you’ve smelt a freshly cut down Christmas tree!”

“Jesus, I didn’t know you were so passionate about this,” Steve snorts.

“You think this is bad. Wait until I tell Wayne. He’s going to flip out!”

“Wayne has never flipped out in his life.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first for everything.” Eddie crosses his arms and then immediately uncrosses them, clapping his hands instead. “That’s it. You’re coming with us this year. Don’t make plans for next Friday! I’m stealing your Christmas tree virginity.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Steve groans, wrinkling his nose. “But fine, I’ll go with you. If you help me with this thing.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair trade-off, Stevie.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit,” Steve says, bending down for the next segment of the tree. “Now grab an end.”

Steve yelps when he feels a firm hand squeeze his ass. All it takes is one deathly glare over his shoulder for Eddie to stop cackling and get serious.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“I’m going to sue your family,” Eddie whines, collapsing on the couch a few hours later.

“Don’t be a baby,” Steve scolds before dashing off into the living room to grab a couple of beers.

“Excuse me! That thing attacked me! Multiple times! Look at the evidence,” Eddie shouts, yanking up the sleeves of his Hellfire shirt to examine a dozen or so scratch marks up and down his forearms. “And don’t even get me started on my hands! How am I supposed to play guitar, Steven!”

“I told you to wear gloves,” Steve shrugs, returning to the room. He passes Eddie the cold can of beer before sinking into the couch beside him.

“I shouldn’t need gloves because you shouldn’t need to fluff a tree! They already come fluffed because they’re not rotting away in a box all year.”

“You poor thing,” Steve playfully tuts. “Guess I can’t hold your hand now since they’re so beaten up.”

“I never said that,” Eddie squawks as he yanks Steve’s hand into his own.

They sit in silence after that. Nursing their beers as the Christmas tree stands in its makeshift glory in front of them. Steve can tell which side he fluffed and which side Eddie did. The giant gap between the top two layers is obvious, and he knows he’s going to have to climb the ladder and fix it before his mom gets home, but that’s a problem for future Steve. Right now, he wants to sit here with his boyfriend even if his boyfriend is gearing up for another faux Christmas tree rant.

“Don’t tell me your mom is one of those people who only puts those stupid decorative ball things on the tree, too.”

“What do you think?” Steve says, hiding his smile behind the can of beer.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

🎄 🎄 🎄

It takes a bit of convincing and a formal invite from Wayne, but Steve keeps up his end of their deal, joining the Munsons on their quest for the perfect Christmas tree for the trailer.

Eddie has a habit of embellishing when he tells stories, but Merrill’s farm lives up to all the hype. As done, the process of selecting and chopping down the perfect tree. Steve gets stuck being the tie-breaking vote when Wayne and Eddie end up arguing over which tree to bring home. Naturally, Eddie throws a minor fit when Steve sides with Wayne, whining that he likes him better than his own boyfriend, which has Wayne rolling his eyes.

Steve gets to make the first chop but passes the ax off quickly. He doesn’t want to impede on their tradition any more than he has. Besides, axes have never been his thing. He prefers to swing bats instead.

“See, isn’t this much better than building a tree?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder as they stand off the side while Wayne pays.

“It definitely smells better.” Steve inhales deeply, scents of pine and hints of peppermint flooding his senses. Someone should bottle this stuff up and sell it as a cologne, he thinks. He’d definitely wear it.

“It’s easier, too.”

Steve scoffs. “Speak for yourself! You’re not the one who helped Wayne drag it all the way up here.”

Eddie laughs, eyes sparking mischievously. “Wait until you have to help him load it into the truck. That’s always the worst part.”

Steve eyes his boyfriend through squinted eyes. He ducks out of Eddie’s grasp and settles his hands on his hips. “You set me up! You just brought me here so you wouldn’t have to do manual work!”

“You wound me, Harrington,” Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his heart as he staggers backward. “How can you think so lowly of me.”

“Because I know you, Munson,” Steve teases.

“Alright, alright, fine,” Eddie says, slinking over to Steve. “Maybe I had ulterior motives, but it's only fair after what I suffered helping you with that abomination you call a tree. At least now you’ve experienced a true Christmas tree experience.”

Steve can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as Eddie beams proudly at him.

“Ready to go, boys?” Wayne asks, rejoining them. They both nod, watching as Wayne makes his way over to the heavier side of the tree.

“You don’t have to carry it, Wayne,” Steve says, mischievous flooding his own veins. “Eddie and I will carry it to the car.”

“You bastard!”

“Hey,” Wayne scolds, swatting Eddie’s shoulder. “No swearin’ ‘round kids. I ain’t raise you like that.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he watches Eddie sigh dramatically before carefully shoving Wayne away from the tree. He waits for Eddie to follow his lead, squatting down before he counts them off. On three, they hoist the tree over their shoulders and start heading back out to the car.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks later, passing Steve a mug full of Wayne’s signature hot chocolate. “Is it better than your tree?”

Steve knows the answer immediately, but he takes a moment. Wants to make Eddie squirm as he admires the tree in front of him. It’s not perfect. It’s a little crooked, and there are hundreds of pine needles littering the floor. The lights are bright, though, and the branches are full of homemade and sentimental ornaments that span decades. A homemade star sits on top in lieu of the traditional angel. A star, Eddie tells him, he and his mom made by themselves the year before she got sick.

It’s perfectly imperfect.

His own traditional, straight out of the pages of a Home and Garden magazine doesn’t stand a chance against this one.

“Yeah, Eds. It’s better than my tree.”

“Victory!” Eddie shouts, nearly spilling his hot chocolate all over himself.

🎄 🎄 🎄

A month later, Steve’s belly is full of the Munson Christmas feast, but instead of lazily lounging on the couch enjoying his food baby, he’s carefully taking ornaments off of the dead Christmas tree that nearly caught fire twice since he’s been here.

“I take it back,” Steve says, carefully taking an ornament off of the dead tree. “Artificial trees are better.”

“They are not!” Eddie whines, wrapping the ornaments Steve hands him in tissue paper.

“I don’t know, Eds. I’ve never had to take down a tree on Christmas before!” he grumbles, reaching for another ornament. “This sucks.”

“It’s all your fault. If you chose my tree, it would have lived for another week! I just know it.”

“Sure it would have,” Steve snorts.

“Look on the bright side, at least we have firewood for the New Year's Eve bond fire now. We can’t do that with your stupid tree.”

“Nope, because I get to use my tree again next year, and you have to buy a new one. Think that’s another point for fake trees.”

Eddie screeches, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and tugging him off the ladder and onto the couch. Despite their full stomachs and tired eyes, they wrestle and laugh as Wayne shakes his head from the doorway, a light cigarette perched between his lips.

“Cut it out, you too,” he scolds when things get more heated between them. “Need it out before it really goes up in flames.”

[rainylana]

“Yeah.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: eddie calls reader a b*tch

warnings: language, angst, tears.

a/n: i know these past fics have been short, i’m sorry, but i’m still trying my hand at getting back into this! they’ll get longer, i promise! feedback is appreciate!! :)

Eddie was not in a good mood. You knew this the moment you saw him through the window of his van when he came to pick you up for school. He ranted all morning about how he needed money for new tires, money he didn’t have. Work was cutting him hours and he couldn’t afford it. He was tired of not having money, tired of not getting what he wanted. He was having a damn bad day.

And of course, you listened graciously, but after four hours of watching him sulk in class and be a dick to his friends, it was starting to take it’s toll. He was pouting and you understood why. He came from a poor family and he wouldn’t let you help out financially in anyway whatsoever, no matter how hard you begged. You didn’t want to seem rude and make his bad day seem unappreciated or invalid, but he was treating his friends, and you, poorly to a degree. Not so much you.

Lunch was almost unbearable. Everyone walked on eggshells. Eddie was one of the most dramatic people on the face of the earth and everyone had to suffer for it. Hours past and he’d taken you home from school. Your plan was to go over to his house for a movie night, hoping that a few hours apart would help him settle down and cool off. It done no good. He was absolutely enraged when you got there. The hood of his van was up, smoke flying overhead and his dark curls pulled up away from his face. You didn’t even really know what was wrong with it. It didn’t make sense when he told you. Cars were his detail.

Dinner was no change. You sat and listened to him complain about how none of the guy’s were apparently taking the new campaign seriously. He had a hole in his last pair of good jeans. You felt guilty being annoyed by this, but he hadn’t once asked you how your day was or even kissed you! You were going to loose your mind. Without thinking, you snapped.

“Oh, my god!” You wailed, throwing your silverware down. “Jesus, christ, Eddie, take a breath!”

His eyes were round and wide. “Pardon me?”

You took a breath yourself, forcing yourself to not snap and say something you’d regret. You placed your elbows on the table and rubbed your face. “Baby, I’m sorry you’re having such a bad day, but holy shit you’ve not stopped talking for one second!” You really did have a pounding headache. “You’ve been talking about money all day! Can’t we just have a change of topic, please.”

He looked taken back. Shocked. “Oh, I see. It’s all gotta be bout you, right? Fucking forgive me for having a bad day!” He threw down his fist, clinking the dinnerware together.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Eddie.” You sighed tiredly. “I’m saying that you’ve not acknowledged me at all today. You’ve not kissed me or asked how my day was. I’m sorry you’re stressed out about money, but you’ve been taking it out one everyone, Eddie. You need to calm down.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Calm down? Well, last time I checked you were living in a grand castle on daddy’s money, right? You have no idea the kind of shit Wayne and I have to got through to make ends meet, y/n.” He stood abruptly and yanked open the fridge for a beer.

“Hey,” You raised your voice. “I’m not trying to belittle you, Eddie. All I’m saying is that you don’t need to take your frustration out on everyone, out on me. I’m sorry I snapped at you, okay-”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He took a long swig after he threw the tab in the sink. “You’re my girlfriend! You’re supposed to be supportive and shit. Only thing you’re being is a bitch.” He sneered like a snake, pointing at you like you were his worst enemy.

Your face dropped at the curse, and as stupid as it felt, your heart sank. Eddie had never said anything like that to you before. Your face burned red and the room got eerily quiet. You felt your eyes immediately blur with tears of embarrassment and humiliation. You had tried to help him, offer solutions. You tried to lend a hand, offer him money and look for jobs in the newspaper at lunch. He acknowledged none of this.

You bit your lip to keep from crying, a lump building in your throat that made you feel sick. You had your head turned to the wall so he wouldn’t see you, but you couldn’t keep it in. You let out a quiet sob, tears falling down your face as you looked down. Your face was red hot, and you brought up your hand to your chest. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” You cried. “I’ve been t-trying to help, I-” Your voice broke and you couldn’t speak as tears escaped, your face twisting into tears. You sat there and cried for a few minutes before you felt the seat dip next to you.

“Hey,” His voice cooed softly, turning your shoulder to pull you toward him. You allowed him to, and you looked eyes briefly before climbing into his lap, wrapping your legs around his torso, your feet dangling off the bench. Your arms were tight around his neck, your face buried in his shirt where you sniffled. He smelled of cologne and dirt.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, voice low and sad. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He rubbed your back up and down, kissing the side of your head when you let out a whimper.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day.” You said tearfully, holding him like a teddy bear. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about money.”

You felt him sigh heavily. “It’s okay. I got the most important thing in the world right here with me.” He pulled you away so he could look up at you. His eyes were brown and full, his lips pulled into a frown at your tear stricken face. He took his thumbs and wiped them. “I’m sorry I called you that. You know I didn’t mean it, right? You know I didn’t.”

You nodded slowly, wiping your nose with your hand. “Yeah.” You creaked.

He tapped your chin. “Yeah.” Then your nose and to wipe away another tear. He leaned up to plant a tiny kiss on your lips, then one on the corner of your mouth. You leaned down to kiss back, deepening it with your tongue and a hand locking in his curls. Your noses pressed together like puzzle pieces. Perfectly fit.

[bloodredfountainpen]

Human Packbonding: Spontaneous Adoption

One of my favorite of the HASO tropes (specifically a sub trope of the human packbonding trope) is humans as the ultimate parents, specifically humans having the propensity to adopt random kids from bad situations. I love me some found family, sue me. Here’s a little three part (maybe more) diddy I wrote a while ago with this trope as the base.

Merc and Floof

Six months. I’ve been on this Odin-forsaken planet for six fucking months. It is a miserable existence, hunting monsters in the desert wasteland with no gratitude from the locals. The lords who hired me think their pitiful pay thanks enough, and the common folk resent me for being on the lord’s payroll. Not to mention the sandy terrain, beating heat, and oh yeah, the fucking monsters I’m killing. Once my contract is up, credits be damned, I’m getting out of here. I’d rather sleep on the streets than stay here any longer than physically possible.

… or at least that’s what I’d say if I didn’t have a husband and son to provide for. My mercenary work is the only thing keeping them fed, and as much as I’d like to go home to be with them, I know they can’t live off his teacher’s salary alone. Sometimes I think about abandoning my post and taking the next shuttle off planet, but those are just my intrusive thought speaking. Realistically, I’ll be staying on this planet for a few more years at least. Jesus titty fucking christ, If hell exists I am in it. Now, I know this sounds like I’m throwing myself a pity party here, but I assure you I’m not. I’m just telling it how it is.

The brooding mercenary was roused from his trance when a young Lycan tugged at his cloak. She was small, thin, and would be dangerously fluffy if not for the grime and sand caked into her fur. She was wearing what to any Terran would be easily identified as a potato sack but to the Lycan was a passable dress. She was shivering in the nighttime cold, breath nearly forming into steam before her, and yet, in perfect Terra Communis, she spoke.

“Um, ahem. My master, Lord Mokta, would like to formally invite you and a guest of your choice to dine with him and his wife in his estate in an hour. If you’ll please let me know your plan I’ll run it back to his lordship.”

“Master huh? What are you, some kind of slave?”

“Um no, not really. I’m an indentured servant for his lordship, my parents made the contract. I’ll be free once I can pay out the contract value or when I come of age, which ever comes first.”

“And how much do you get paid?”

“I don’t, I rely on the kindness of strangers like you.”

“That sounds a lot like slavery to me… So then, what’s the contract value?”

At this point, the mercenary’s interest had been piqued. He scarcely knew what he would with the information he would obtain, he only knew that his ravenous curiosity would be stated only once he knew.

“… it’s 50 credits sir.”

50 credits? Did he hear that right? Only 50 measly credits could buy this sweet girl’s freedom? He could afford to not eat for a few days if it meant this girl, whose name he didn’t even know, would get to go free. He pulled out a 50 cred stick and pressed it into the girl’s paws.

“That should cover it then, now how would you like to be my guest to Mokta’s dinner?”

Instead of simply accepting like the stoic mercenary expected, the girl burst into tears and fell to the ground. She sat there on her knees, hyperventilating, sobbing, and thanking the bewildered mercenary profusely. It was a sight to behold, and the mercenary was finding himself increasingly uncomfortable. He tried, unsuccessfully, to use words to quell the girl’s tears. This effort only exacerbated the storm of emotion and in the end, the mercenary wrapped the girl in his arms and let his heartbeat and breathing steady her own. Once she had calmed enough to be spoken to, the mercenary did so.

“So then, what is your answer? Will you or will you not accompany me? If we don’t get going now, we’ll be late.”

“Yes, I’d love to go with you! But are you sure my dress is ok?”

“If it’s good enough for his messenger, it’s good enough for his guest. Let’s get on then.”

It was quite the upset when the cloaked mercenary, sword at waist and ragged girl in tow, strode into the banquet hall. The Lycan with the fanciest robe, Lord Mokta the mercenary assumed, was especially outraged. He shouted to the mercenary.

“Human! Why aren’t you dressed properly?! This kind of disrespect would have you beheaded if you were my subject!”

“Good thing I’m not your subject then. I don’t own one of your fancy robes, nor any Terran formal wear. It was either my day cloak and ceremonial sword or my power armor and machine gun, which would you prefer?”

“I…, you…” he sputtered, “all right, just take your seat here. Messenger girl, get back to the quarters!”

“Wait now, she’s my guest. You did say I could have one guest, right?“

“Guest?! She’s my indenture and she will obey my commands!”

The mercenary patted the girl on her shoulder, encouraging her foreword.”

“Lord Mokta, this is a fifty credit stick.” She held it up to him, “as such, my contract is paid off and I don’t have to do what you say anymore.“

The mercenary cracked a small grin, a rarity for him on this hell world.

“That’s right, and as a free person I’ve chosen her as my guest. Now then, please make a place for my darling girl.”

It was just then that his holo pad pinged with a job offer in his home system for ten times the pay, and he knew everything would be alright.

This girl must be some kind of lucky charm, I should thank her, and probably learn her name as well.

As the unlikely pair strolled through the moonlight, the girl, now well fed, began to shiver again. Taking his responsibility as her father, the mercenary passed her his own cloak.

I’m a hardened soldier, and she’s just a little girl, after all. She needs it much more than I do.

The girl, for her part, began to tear up again and the mercenary knew he needed to nip that in the bud. A constantly crying wolf girl would not fly on earth, he’d be lucky not to find himself in jail. He spoke to the girl, keeping his tone even but serious.

“Hey, is the cloak ok? Are you still cold?”

“N-no I’m warm now. Th-thank y-you so much, f-for everything! For the f-food and for p-paying off-f my contract. I was w-wondering what happens to me now? I mean, I can’t go back to his lordship’s house and I w-wouldn’t want to impose on you b-but…”

“Oh I thought that was obvious, I’m taking you back to my planet and adopting you… That is if you want to of course. I have a husband who will love you, and a son about your age who would be thrilled to have a sister.”

“You’re adopting me?! That’s awesome! And I get two dads and a brother, frick yeah!”

“That’s good, some enthusiasm will serve you well. Oh I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your name?”

“… I don’t have one. A name is something to be earned when you pay off your contract or come of age. But I didn’t pay off my own contract, you paid it for me. I guess, if I have to have a name, could you maybe pick one for me?”

“Very well…” The mercenary became pensive, mentally going through a list of names, but none fit the fluffy anomaly at his side. Eventually, his thoughts turned back to the job offer that had came in earlier. Of course he had accepted, he’d be insane not to. Ten times the wages, and within a day’s commute of his family… a true miracle. He knew what name to give her.

“How does Fortuna sound to you? It means good luck where I come from.”

“I love it, cause I’m the luckiest girl alive!”

“No, I am the luckiest man for finding you.”

Merc and Floof: The Gaurdian

I hate spaceports. Between the long lines, the crowds, and always being on security’s radar, they are the worst place ever. That’s what I would say before I traveled with Fortuna anyway. I officially apologize to all parents who travel with kids, my condolences. This is a whole other layer of hell. I have been awake for nearly twenty four hours straight and our flight leaves in two, my daughter is terrified that someone will take her away from me and so she won’t let go of my cloak, and I almost got into a fight with a security agent because the moron tried to take my sacred sword. Do these blockheads not understand the concept of a ceremonial weapon? It hasn’t left the sheath in years and I have proper documentation for it. But no, they had to try to put it in a ‘travel case’ and store in in the plane. Well, the tenets of my oath dictate that my weapon shall not leave my side and so I was prepared to duel for my honor. Luckily, the guy backed off and got his supervisor, who worked everything out, and we got to our flight on time. Gods, I hate spaceports.

The exhausted mercenary was roused from his near coma by his daughter tapping on his shoulder. Towering above him stood two bovid security guards, one tapping his foot impatiently.

“Huh? Oh yes, what seems to be the problem?”

“Sir, we’re going to need to ask this girl some questions. We’ll be just over there, now come with us little girl.” At this, the already quite diminutive lycan shrank back and clung desperately to her father’s cloak. This set off the mercenary’s paternal instincts, who first glared to the security guards, then comforted his daughter.

“It’s ok sweetie, just tell the truth and there shouldn’t be any issues. I’ll be keeping my eyes on you too, so if anything goes wrong I’ll be right here.” With a reassuring headpat, the girl was sent off. The human watched the three like a predator waiting to strike. He gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles ached, ready to launch into a fight at a moment’s notice. Going to jail would be a small price to pay for defending his daughter.

After what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was only about five minutes, the now teary eyed lycan came scampering back to her father, immediately gripping her tiny paws back onto the mercenary’s cloak. Seeing her distress, the now furious human looked the bovids in the eye and spoke, his voice chilling the room.

“Why is my daughter crying? If you hurt her I will pay you back ten times over.” The guards, in spite of their clear physical advantage, backed down.

“No sir, she was just eager to get back to you. You two are fine, thank you for your patience.”

The mercenary sighed, this was not an uncommon occurrence. At the last spaceport, they’d been stopped no less than three times, each time eager to find some reason to take his daughter away from him. He looked around as he cared for his little girl, acknowledging the disgusted looks from the rest of the people waiting at the gate. Thankfully this was the last leg of their journey, they’d soon be on earth. He couldn’t wait to see the rest of his family again.

Merc and Floof: The Dichotomy of Man

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

splat

Ka-plunk

boom

“Two down, three to go.”

The mercenary whispered under his breath as he loaded up another shell into his shoulder mounted artillery. Part of him felt good having his power armor on after four days of travel, but the other, much louder part, was getting impatient. All he had to do was kill three more of these buggers and he could get back to the barracks for a video call home. He was anxious to see how Fortuna was adapting to life on Earth, and how his husband and son were adapting to the surprise adoption. He hadn’t exactly had time to call back and check with Elliot and Grayson before bringing home another kid, so when he showed back up out of the blue with a random new daughter in tow, there were shocked looks all around.

Unfortunately for the mercenary, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of time to get everyone used to the new situation, as he had to catch a shuttle to Mars the next morning. He knew that Elliot would never throw Fortuna out, and that Grayson was a good kid who wouldn’t even think of bullying anyone. Still, his upcoming call home would tell him if he’d made a mistake in unilaterally adding Fortuna to the household. He hoped not, but he wasn’t the one who took care of the kids most of the time.

Skreee

“Oh shit!”

The mercenary’s thoughts had wandered, and the last bugger, a massive mantis looking fucker, had managed to sneak up behind him and was now trying to melt his power armor off with its acid spit. The mercenary, liking his power armor unmelted thank you very much, grabbed the bugger by its spikes and ripped it straight in half.

“Well, that’s going to take some buffing out.”

He sighed as he signaled for the cleanup team and began to make his way back to the transport. Soon enough, a smile creeped its way up his lips as he looked forward to his rapidly approaching call home.

… … …

The mercenary, now changed out of his power armor, tapped his foot as he waited for the call to connect. Waiting just seconds was now taking a greater toll than the week of waiting that preceded it.

da-ding!

In an instant, all of the mercenary’s stress melted away as the image of his loved ones sitting together on their familiar blue couch appeared on the screen. As soon as the kids saw their dad, they began to smile, and the mercenary knew everything would be alright.

“Daddy!”

The young kids shouted out in unison, the young wolf girl’s tail smacking against the couch. The simple, oversized clothes scrounged up by the mercenary before their flight from her homeworld had been replaced by a comfy set of pink pajamas.

“Hey kiddos, have you two been good while I’ve been gone?”

The mercenary wasn’t really asking, he knew that his children had been on their best behavior. He just wanted to hear them talk about how they’d been doing, their voices like water to a man dying of thirst.

The young boy spoke first, “Yeah, we’ve been good! I taught Fortuna howda play connect four, she’s really good at it, she even beat me two times inna row.” He mumbled out the last phrase, indignant embarrassment painted in his body language.

“Really? Grayson Constanza, the connect four champion of the world, lost to a newbie?”

The wolf girl piped up, puffing out her chest in pride. “Heck yeah! I beat him good!”

The mercenary smiled with contentment, he’d be home with them next week. All he had to do was wait.

After chatting with the kids for about fifteen minutes, the little ones were sent off to bed and he was alone with his husband.

“Bruno, how have you been? How’s the new job?”

“I’m doing better now that I’ve seen you and the kids. The new job’s alright, much better than the last one, but I can’t wait to come home.”

“And I can’t wait to have you here. I have to admit, I was about ready to pummel you into the ground when you showed up with a random kid, but you made a good choice. Fortuna opened up to me about what she went through growing up on Lycaeus, and it wasn’t pretty. Grayson loves his new sister, even the neighbors think she’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m glad to hear that, and I really am sorry about not being able to be there for you. I miss you guys.”

“I miss you too, love.”

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 69 | Part 70

“Can I come in?” Dustin continues.

Steve looks at Eddie. “Come on in, Dustin.” Eddie moves to sit next to Steve.

He does, blinking at their positions on the floor, then mentally shrugs and joins them. “Joyce and Wayne were talking to us downstairs,” he starts quietly. “About how people think two guys liking each other is bad, and wrong, but how it isn’t, but how it’s still not safe for you.” He bites his lip. “We won’t tell anyone. None of us will. But I-” He takes a breath, looks away before continuing. “I think you’re brave. Really brave. And I think no one should get to tell you that being together is wrong or bad. Because it can’t be. I mean, even just logically speaking there are animals in homosexual relationships, but even without that.” He looks up at Steve. “I was over visiting Mike a few times when you’d be over. And I saw the way you looked at her. And I see the way you look at him. And it can’t be wrong, if the way you look at him is true.”

“God fucking damn it,” Steve grits out to Eddie, who grabs at his hand and squeezes it.

“Thank you, Dustin,” Eddie quietly says. “We really appreciate it.”

Dustin nods, fidgets. “Steve?” He pauses to fidget again. “Can- can I give you a hug? Maybe?”

“Definitely,” Steve nods, opening his arms. Dustin gives him a small smile and leans in.

“I’m glad you came back,” he whispers.

“Jesus fuck,” Steve gets out. “You’re gonna be the death of me, kid, my heart’s gonna give out like I’m eighty, and it’s gonna be because of you and your mouth. Christ.”

“Should I… not have said that?”

“No. I’m glad you did. Very glad. Thank you, Dustin.” He wipes his face and smiles at Dustin.  “Give us a few minutes?”

“Okay,” Dustin nods, standing. “I’ll tell everyone else.” He fidgets again. “Also, El wants to know when we’re gonna start.”

Steve sighs. “Today’s for a plan. When we start depends on the plan, and what day works best for it.”

“I’ll tell her,” Dustin promises, nodding, before running out.

Steve leans back against Eddie with a sigh.

“You’re really good with him,” Eddie murmurs.

“Yeah, well I’ve known him for years, I should be.”

“Not this Dustin. You’ve known him for all of two weeks. I think it’s just who you are as a person.” He wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I think you and my Uncle Wayne were cut from the same cloth. People can’t help but to like you.”

“Sure, even though you hated me in high school.”

“I didn’t know you in high school. I’d even venture as far as to say you didn’t know yourself in high school.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I think that means you should agree with me, instead of trying to argue about how terrible you are as a person.” Eddie grins at him. “Ready to go downstairs? Even if we’re not starting until tomorrow at the earliest, we should still get a game plan going today.”

Steve sighs. “I hate when you’re right.”

“Lies,” Eddie says happily, hopping to his feet and offering Steve a hand up, “lies and slander, you like me, Steve Harrington.”

Steve doesn’t even try to hide his smile. “Sure, Eds. Let’s go downstairs.”

They meet with everyone still in attendance in his living room. Joyce returns a few minutes later, and they start planning.

About an hour into it, Steve’s getting a headache. He rubs his temples but smiles at El when she approaches him. “Is your head being too loud?” She whispers.

Steve smiles wider. “I’ll be fine, Ellie.”

She narrows her eyes. “That isn’t a no. Friends don’t lie, Steve.”

“You’re right. Friends don’t lie.” He pets a hand over her head, cups her jaw for a second. “My head is being a little loud, but it’s not bad right now.”

“Would a hug help?”

“I think hugs always help,” he tells her seriously. “There are very few things a hug cannot fix.”

She beams and leans into him, throwing her arms around his waist. He grins, then buries it in her short hair. “Tell me something honestly. Could you go back to the building? Or would it hurt too much?”

She thinks about it. “It will hurt,” she tells him. “But I will be okay if I do not see the rainbow room.”

“You won’t,” Steve promises her. “What about Papa?”

She shakes her head, buries her face in his chest. “I won’t be strong enough,” comes out muffled.

“Okay. No rainbow room and no Papa. We can do that, Ellie. Anything you want to do yourself?”

Her lip curls when she moves to press her cheek to his chest. “The medicine room.”

Steve’s eyes shut. “Okay. Can I help you with that room?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He looks up to see everyone else watching them. “Have you decided on something yet?”

“We were sort of waiting for you, dear,” Joyce says apologetically. “You know the most about this stuff. We’re kind of flying blind here.”

Steve sighs, leans forward. “You’re right. Then let’s plan.”

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[shoot-i-messed-up]

🌤

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP. this is from my wip chapter 5 (or 6? no idea how I'm going to split it) of Hal Jordan: The Guy Who Made Superman Cry Thrice:

“I feel safe around you,” Hal said. “I swear it. I do.”

“But?”

“But…” Hal didn’t realize it was true until he started saying it. “Sinestro was safe, once. So was my dad. Hell, even Carol felt safe before she got mind controlled into being Star Sapphire about a hundred times. It’s nothing personal to you.”

“But it is. Because I’m Superman.”

Hal had nothing to say to that. “It’s illogical. Believe me, I know,” he said lamely.

“I know I’m very strong,” said Clark quietly, “probably the strongest person on Earth. But you have a very unique way of defending yourself against me.”

Hal heard a rustle of movement and watched warily as Clark groped around in his blazer for a pad of paper and a pen. Clark quickly scribbled something on the top page, tore it off, and handed it to Hal. He read it quickly.

“What am I looking at?” Hal asked.

“The chemical formula for green Kryptonite.”

Hal pushed the paper at Clark’s chest like he’d been burned. “Are you fucking crazy? Jesus Christ, you need to keep this down on lock, what do you think you’re doing?”

Clark’s bright blue eyes were boring into him. “You need to memorize it.”

“Why the hell would I do that? Doesn’t Spooky have enough of the damn thing anyway? What the fuck would I never need it for?”

“One of Batman’s contingency plans for me is you,” Clark said. “The Power Ring is a device that manipulates energy, so it is very much within the realm of reason that it can create kryptonite radiation. Enough to stop me.”

“Clark, what happens if I’m not in control and I know that formula? I could kill you.”

“Good. I’d rather die than touch you in a way that you don’t like.”

Hal scrubbed at his eyes. “You’re an actual lunatic. You actually mean that, don’t you? Who am I kidding, of course you do, you’re Superman.”

Clark shrugged in that Midwestern way.

“What happens if I ask you never to touch me again?”

“Hal, I’d stay six feet away from you at all times if it meant we could still have this.”

Hal arched an eyebrow. “Okay, that begs the question—what are you even getting out of our relationship? Like, obviously, I’m not complaining, but I’m getting a gorgeous six foot three investigative journalist boyfriend, who’s, oh yeah, Superman. So, between the no sex and the panic attacks and the mental breakdowns, what are you getting?”

“You,” said Clark. “I’m getting you.”

[k-slla]

I see your requests are open. 🙏🏼

Can you write something where reader is a hunter and she and dean aren’t particularly friendly. Maybe she thinks he’s a bit of a dick. Reader wears baggy clothes and doesn’t really dress like anything other than a hunter. There’s a case where she needs to look feminine and sexy and dean says she can’t do it and she proves him wrong obviously and ends up turning him on ridiculously in the process. So much that he ends up mastabating in front of her and it’s super hot!!! 🥵 🙏🏼

Minute Past Midnight

A/N: Hi, anon, thank you for this request, I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: 18+ONLY, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, mutual masturbation, fingering, implied unprotected PinV, car sex, teasing (takes place around se10-11, so possible spoilers)

WC: ~5k | My Masterlist

All mistakes are mine! Feedback is appreciated!

Enjoy!

“What do you mean by “Y/N will get it done”? Have you actually seen her?” Dean took a mean jab at you. You couldn’t help but scoff. “Gee, thanks, Dean, for the word of confidence.” You snarled at him as you got up from the library table, where you and the boys were putting together your next game plan for stealing the Compass from Jacob Styne. The one and only device that could help you to find the Book of the Damned to remove the Mark from Dean’s arm. Because, well, you had to be honest with yourself - Dean had changed a lot with it. It was expected of course, with the Mark it being a curse and all. At least you didn’t have to deal with him when he was still a demon. That would have been the last drop for you, so you were very grateful that Sam and Cas got that handled on their own.

“Of course she can do it, Dean! We’ll just have to find a way to get to him.” Sam turned the laptop towards Dean and you, nervously pacing around behind Dean’s chair. “And I’ve done it already. His family will be hosting some kind of gala, for marrying off their daughter, which..I don’t know..sounds kind of.. actually a lot of weird to me.” Sam said, lightly grimacing at the screen. 

“So, we’ll have to gatecrash their party.. Don’t you think they’ll recognize us?” You were a little skeptical. Sam gave a quick look over your clothes. “I think we’ll be safe, if we just look the part.” You groaned, knowing what this will lead to. You’d have to wear a gown. Yuck. There was a reason for you why you dressed the way you dressed, baggy jeans and oversized sweaters were your go to, and that reason was comfortability and practicality. That was important for you on hunts. 

“Well, I’ll be looking for a gown then. When’s it happening?” You sat atop the table next to the one boys were sitting at. Sam focused on the computer for a minute, looking for the exact info on the party. 

“It’s..in two days.” Sam finally said slowly. You gulped comically loudly. Two days to find a dress, shoes, and figure out the whole situation with your hair and make up. It..will be great.

Dean suddenly got up from the table. “Well, we’re screwed then.” He sighed loudly and turned to leave to the kitchen. “What do you mean?” Sam asked curiously. Dean turned around and looked back at you two. “Sorry, but look at her. She hasn’t seen a dress for once in her life. What makes you think she can seduce Styne AND steal the Compass from him? We might as well accept the fact that the Mark is not coming off my arm. We’re screwed!” Exasperated yell left his lips, making him push some books off the shelf next to the door he was standing. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, honestly, Dean! Is there anything you can do and not throw a fit like a six year old with it? Have I ever let you down in the past five years that we’ve known each other? Have some fucking faith in me. I'll get it done. And even if we don't get the Compass, we'll find some other way then.” Now you had lost your temper too, and your breathing quickened when you saw Dean storming back to stand in front of you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He said with a feigned sweetness. “But as long as you look like this?” His eyes ran over your outfit, and he didn't even need to say anything specific about it, you knew exactly what he meant with that look. Who would ever look at you? “I will have a hard time trusting that you can seduce anybody. So yeah, I'll start thinking of plan B.” He turned to leave again, walking straight past the books he'd pushed off before.

You glared after him angrily. It got personal for you, and you were determined to prove him wrong.

For the whole next day you were looking for a dress for the gala. It was exhausting. The plan was for you and the boys to attend the gala, and while they were keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, you were “entertaining” Jacob Styne, because he was probably the one who's possession the Compass was in. 

But you did it. You found the perfect dress. Silk black spaghetti strapped A-line gown with a deep neckline and a slit running dangerously high up your thigh. You were nervously pacing in your room, before going out to Sam and Dean. You were so out of your comfort zone. You couldn't have any weapons on you, if you wanted to get really close to Styne. If anything goes wrong, you have to trust the boys to get you out. 

“Y/N, come on! We'll be late!” You heard them call you. You stopped on your doorway and took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. “Here goes nothing.” You whispered quietly.

Walking into the War Room, where Sam and Dean were waiting for you, you suddenly got self-conscious, but you couldn't show it out. You felt naked. Dean choked a little on his whiskey.

“I know, I know. I look ridiculous. He's not gonna fall for it.” You mocked him annoyingly and grabbed your phone from the table. 

“Actually..you look…nice..really nice.” Dean said slowly, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.  “Thanks..you do too.” You said carefully as your eyes traveled down his body. He really did look good in a tuxedo. You noticed that Sam wasn't dressed. “Wait, why aren't you dressed?” 

“I'm not going. You two are.” Sam smirked. “Come on, you really thought it would work if you marched in there with both of us in tow?” He asked when he saw your suddenly blank face. Those bastards played you. Sam knew you would never agree to go there with Dean alone, and he waited until the last minute to tell you that. Now that you're dressed to the nines, you had no other choice. What was supposed to be maybe even a little bit of a fun night for you, just got awkward. You did not want to be alone with Dean. Not at all. He was too big of a dick for that. And with that revelation, the last bit of your good mood was gone.

“Whatever. Let's just go.” You turned around quickly, so that the skirt of your dress twirled in the movement, revealing your leg from the slit. You heard a groaning behind you, followed by a low “fuck” from Dean. He got up from the chair and you looked back to see if he followed you. Instead, he held his tux jacket in front of his crotch and was really flustered. “I- ahem, I forgot something..uhh, in my room. Be back in 10. Mmm.. actually..make it 15.” You rolled your eyes at him “Is this a joke?” You asked incredulously. He looked back over his shoulder. “I can't go out like this! I'll have to take care of it.” He hurried towards his room. 

“For fuck’s sake, Dean! Hurry up!” You yelled after him, not bothering to hide your annoyance. “Fucking joke..” a quiet mumble, meant only for yourself, slipped past your lips.

Sam stifled a laugh. “Good luck, Y/N, you'll need it.” 

About an hour later, you and Dean walked into the manor. Both grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to keep a low profile for a while to gather some information on Styne.

“So, I'll go find Jacob and get the Compass from him. I'll call you when it's done or when I'll need some back up. Go and “mingle”, I guess..” You smiled at Dean and started to make your way to the other side of the room to the bar, where you saw Jacob sitting a bit earlier. 

You clumsily “stumbled” when trying to sit down and caught yourself at Jacob's shoulder, pouring a little Champagne onto his lap. “I'm so so sorry, sir!” You quickly grabbed some napkins from the top of the bar and started to pat his pants dry. “I am really sorry.” You looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “It's alright, miss. All's good.” Smiling at him widely, you managed to sit down next to him, lightly brushing your bare leg against his. He flagged down the bartender, who didn't leave him waiting. “Let me buy you a drink. What would you like?” he smiled at you charmingly, making warm blush climb up your cheeks and you almost forgot why you were there in the first place. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that. You turned to the bartender and said the first drink that hopped into your mind. “French 75, please.” 

“You heard the lady, and Whiskey for me. Neat.” 

Both of your eyes were dancing on each other's faces. For you, that was just an act, but you had no idea what he was thinking. Your mind was occupied with Dean and some lucky girl who he probably had with him already, but you had to get that sight out of your mind immediately.

“I haven't introduced myself yet. Jacob Styne.” He said and took your hand to place a kiss on it. “Irene Rivera.” 

“My pleasure, Miss Rivera. What would you say, if I suggest taking these drinks to my room?” 

You bit your lower lip teasingly. “Mm, I’d say “lead the way”.”

You walked through the maze of hallways, remembering your path for later to send directions to Dean in case you needed some rescue.

You got up to his room and as soon as he closed the door, he put away your drinks and his lips crashed onto yours and hands started to feel up your body. You knew he was searching for any hidden knives or a gun. He wasn't stupid, and you definitely weren't stupid to take weapons with you. In turn you moved your hands over his chest, feeling something possibly resembling the Compass in his jacket's pocket.  As you faked your pleasure of his hands on your body, you pulled away from his kiss, panting hard. “May I- may I use the restroom quickly?” He pointed towards the right of you. 

You shut the door behind you and exhaled deeply.

After getting your phone out, you shot a quick text to Dean. 

“In his room. He has the Compass. 2nd floor, left hallway from main staircase, last door to the right. Be here in 10!” 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, giving a little pep talk. “You can do this. Just a little sleight of hand. Probably a little more kissing. Nothing you haven’t done before.” You took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom.

He was sitting down on the couch already, with your drinks in hand. 

“Join me.” You sat down close to him and took your drink from him, but you didn't dare to take another sip from that. Instead, you put the glass to the side table and went to straddle his hips, kissing him carnally. “I think we were in the middle of something.” You whispered against his lips, cringing on the inside from how desperate you made yourself sound, but it was all just part of the job. With intention to slip the Compass out of it, you started to push his jacket off his shoulders. His kisses moved down to your chin, drawing low moans out of you, and then up again along your jawline.

“Tell me, Miss Irene, how stupid do you think I am? Did you really think that I would fall for your little scheme?” He whispered into your ear and caught your hands to keep you strongly in place. You started to struggle with desperation to get off of him. “Fuck! Let go of me!” When you saw he had no intention to release your hands, you kneed him hard to his balls and got off his lap.

“You stupid bitch!” He groaned out of pain and quickly tripped you with his leg to stop you from getting away. “No! Dean!” He pinned you down to the floor, one hand holding your wrists while the other one closed around your neck. “Dean! Help!” You screamed out before he cut off your air. “Dean? Not as in Dean Winchester?” Your eyes started to water quickly, you still tried your best to fight him off, squirming under him as much as you could. Where was he? “Please.. don’t..” But Styne clearly enjoyed the view of you squirming under him, slowly starting to give up the fight. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s too late to start begging now. If Dean finally decides to join us, this party will be really fun!” he grinned down at you.

“I don't think so.” Dean had stormed into the room and hit Styne in the head with his gun. It had no effect on him and his hand was still around your neck. “You have to try harder than that if you want to sav-” Dean suddenly pushed him off of you and held against the floor while five shots rang through the air. You gasped loudly and coughed hard to normalize your breathing again.

Your ears were ringing loudly from the shots fired close to your head. Dean helped you up from the floor and pulled you into a quick hug. “Are you alright?” You gathered yourself before nodding at him. Dean let go of you and squatted down to search Styne’s pockets for the compass. After securing it in his hands, he guided you out of the room. You heard quick steps coming up the stairs, from more than one pair of feet. You had no gun and there was no way that Dean could take all them on alone.

“We have to hide.” You whispered and pulled him towards a door, you were happy to discover it to be an empty closet. “In here.” Both of you held your breaths, as you stood in the small space, your bodies pressed tight together, and you waited for them to pass your door.

You felt something hard press into your thighs, and while you knew that he wouldn’t even see it because you were backed against him, you still felt the need to lift your eyes up. “Dean..” You said slowly. “What?” he whispered back. “Please..please tell me that it’s not your boner pressing at my thigh?” you blurted out, without thinking. Dean started to choke on air after your question. “Wha- uhh..it’s not..just uh..my gun...”

Not knowing what had just possessed you to make you this bold, you turned around as quickly as you managed in the small room and palmed his dick through the pants. You had never been this forward with a man before so you blamed it on the adrenaline rush from the fight before. “Really? Is that the same “gun” you’re holding in your left hand, or one for backup? Because..” you looked up at him through your lashes and continued rubbing his cock. “..this one’s much bigger…and thicker.” You squeezed him tightly, making a trembling breath escape from his lips. “Don’t do this, Y/N..please, not now. Don’t tease me like that.” he begged quietly, trying to back away from you. Squinting your eyes, you smiled at him. “What? You don’t like being teased? Am I too mean to you?” You let the words roll slowly off your lips, enjoying the strained expression on Dean’s face. “Heh, ahem, just a little, yeah..” He gasped out as you let go of him. You brushed your thumb over his full bottom lip. “Take it as retaliation. You’ve been a complete dick to me for the past five years. Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” You smirked at his speechless face and opened the door slightly, to check if it’s safe to go out again.

You heard yelling coming from downstairs, as Jacob’s family tried to find whoever was responsible for his death. “If we do it quickly, I think we can sneak out of here.” You whispered over your shoulder to Dean and slipped out of the door, checking your left and right before motioning Dean to follow. You quietly snuck through the hallways, trying to avoid getting caught. Unfortunately it didn’t go that well.

As soon as you got downstairs, you were spotted and under direct fire. Dean started covering you, but it still wasn’t enough and you got grazed by a bullet in the shoulder. “Ow, fuck!” You shouted and ducked down immediately. “Are you okay?” Dean asked between shots. “Yeah, just a graze. I’ll be fine.” You were almost at the front door and when Dean pulled it open, both of you bolted towards Baby.

Safely in the car, Dean pulled away from the spot with the squeal of the tires. “Let’s get onto the main road, then we’ll make a little stop and I’ll help you with your shoulder, alright?” He took a quick glance at you. “Okay, yeah, thanks.” you said quietly, looking only at the road. 

You were driving in silence, only sounds coming from you were occasional groans, when you moved your arm. Luckily it seemed to you that the cut wasn’t that deep that you’d need stitches, although you knew you'd let Dean make the final decision. 

After a few minutes he pulled aside from the road, got out of the car and walked to the trunk to get the first aid kit. You followed his lead and climbed out of the car. Sitting on the hood, you kept the pressure on your wound until he finally joined you. 

“We only have some vodka here to clean your wound, it’s not the best, but it’ll do until we get back to the Bunker.” He gently removed your hand from your shoulder to take a closer look at the wound. “I think you won’t need stitches. But it’ll hurt like hell.” You only managed to nod a little, knowing very well that it’s going to hurt. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” You stopped Dean from cleansing the gash. His proximity and smell of his spicy, leathery cologne made you slightly dizzy and...needy. “I need a sip of that.” you reached out your hand and waited for him to hand you the bottle. “Uh..okay.” He couldn’t hold back his surprise. You chugged three big gulps from the bottle, enjoying the warmth of alcohol spreading inside you.

That's what you thought it was. Or it was just the effect of Dean on you. You handed the bottle back to him, and the last of the vodka left in there, he poured onto your shoulder, making you bite down on your fist. “Son of a-!” Dean immediately applied pressure on the wound, slightly lessening the stinging sensation with that. “Shit, that hurt!” You couldn't hold back a light laugh. 

“Told you.” he said with a small smile while he dried your skin around the graze before applying a bandage over it. “All done. You'll live.” He leaned onto the hood of the car next to you.

Your eyes locked into his and you smiled fondly at him, gratitude clear on your face. You tried to remember the exact moment you actually fell for that man. Was it at the first sight, when he had saved your life? Was it just after he invited you to live and hunt with them a few years back? Or maybe it was the moment when you saw how desperately Dean was ready to fight for his loved ones. He was always ready to save his baby brother, no matter what it took from him. He may seem like a complete dickhead at first glance, but in reality Dean was the most selfless, most compassionate man you had ever met.

“Thank you, Dean.” He looked at you with a surprised expression, as if he didn't believe you had really said those words. “Hey, no worries. We were caught in the fire, I'd patch you up again if needed to. We did it though. Got the Compass.” Comfortable silence fell around both of you as you sat there on the hood, enjoying the brisk air around you. You were admiring the stars in the clear night sky when Dean suddenly broke the silence. “You did good today, Y/N.” You snorted loudly. “Yeah, right. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you saving me from him.” You said quietly and kicked your eyes down to the ground. “Damn it, woman, take the compliment. You know that I don't usually give them lightly. You did good. You're a good hunter.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Really? So that's why you've been a jackass to me for the past years?” 

“No. Not because of that.” You raised your eyebrow in confusion.  

“It's because..well.. you're…you.” He suddenly seemed nervous. “Dean, you're not making much sense.” 

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before continuing. “You're you, Y/N, amazing and beautiful in your most natural way. I’ve thought all these years that if I was just an asshole to you, it would be easier for you to push me away and for me to not think about you all the time. But I was wrong. It is not easy for me to get you from my mind.” You turned away your gaze from him, to hide one tear that freely ran down your cheek. You had no idea. You had no idea that your feelings for him were reciprocated. All this time you've been thinking that he really sees you just as a hunter, not even as a woman.

“Dean, I-” He cut in before you could finish the sentence. “Yeah, I know. You don't feel the same and don't know what to say. You don't have to say anything. Honestly. I get it. I know that I'm not the easiest to be around, not to speak of being someone you'd ever fall for.” He sighed and got back into the Impala. “Dean, wait!” You hurried after him, climbing into his lap as soon as you got into the car.

“Stop it!” You panted, slightly out of breath. You turned his chin up, face towards you and looked him straight into his eyes, that were glimmering even in the darkness. “You can't just say all those things and then run away from me without letting me answer, because..” you got lost in his eyes and the warm breaths leaving from his slightly parted lips started to intoxicate you with the way they were flowing over your skin. You knew that no words could really give away the feelings you had for him, so you gathered the courage and just kissed him hard.

At first you felt like Dean didn't know how to react to your kiss, but as soon as you started to nibble on his lip, asking permission to enter his mouth, he deepened the kiss and his fingers slipped under your dress, with blunt nails digging into your hips he pulled you closer. You chuckled against his lips, feeling his erection through his pants again. “Really? You're hard again?” He bit your lip teasingly. “Mm, not again sweetheart, since we were in the closet actually. Haven't really gotten time to do anything about it.” You shimmied backwards on his lap, leaning against the dashboard. You knew you were both waiting to release some of your past sexual frustration, but you were pretty sure neither of you had protection. “I'm not on the pill, do you have a condom on you?” 

“Ah, fuck. No, I don't.” Dean sighed defeatedly, running a hand over his face. You leaned back in to kiss him.

“Well, no worries, we can still have some fun, you know?” Your hand started to work on his belt buckle, to free his dick from the restraining boxers. You took his hand into yours and spat into his palm before guiding it down to his cock and slowly started to move it up and down. “I want you to jerk off.” His laughter rang through the car. “And what are you going to do?”

Without another word you moved back on his lap, leaving as much as free space between you as you could. You lifted both of your legs on the seat on either side of him, opening yourself completely to him, revealing your drenched lace underwear.

Your dress was moved up enough so it was just resting around your waist, thanks to the long slit it had. With a devilish smile, you hooked your fingers into your underwear and started to pull them away.

Due to the position you sat in, when they reached your knees, they were pretty much into Dean's face and you were not expecting what he did next. Dean lifted your left leg from his right and slightly bit down on your inner thigh, making you yelp, before pulling your underwear off with his teeth. “Ugh, fuck…you're delicious.” He muttered quietly, your panties still in his mouth. He pulled them out of his mouth and threw on the seat next to you. “Can't wait to eat you out. Can I please?” He looked at you with bright green puppy dog eyes. “Not now.” You whispered and slowly slid your fingers between your glistening folds, teasing Dean.

“Well, I'm going to play with myself. I hope you're not just going to watch?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and pushed one finger into your dripping pussy, making Dean groan at the sight of you. He began to slowly stroke his cock, catching a bead of precum with his thumb and spread it along his shaft, with deep sighs leaving his lips.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful. Big. Thick.” You moaned yearningly, wishing he'd be inside you right now instead of your fingers. The sight of him slowly massaging his dick, head resting on the seat, sighing and groaning softly, made you even more aroused, and you knew you wouldn't last very long.

“Did I really turn you on before we left for the gala?” you whispered, breathing slowly getting heavier from the pleasure slowly building deep in your core. “Yeah..you really did.” He offered a half-smile, as his eyes fell down between your legs, where you had your middle and ring fingers sunk as deep as possible into your pussy, while your other hand rubbed your clit. “What were you thinking of when you were masturbating then?” You had your eyes closed and you imagined him in his room, jerking off earlier in the evening.

“Look at me, Y/N, then I'll tell you.” He said quietly and you immediately locked your eyes with him, still fucking yourself with your fingers. “I was imagining having you in there with me. Feeling your beautiful lips around my cock, sucking hard, almost choking on it, or having you spread out on my bed, screwing all the hate you have against me out of you.. making you cum on my cock..” You ran your thumb again over his lips. “Oh, Dean, I don't hate you..never have..never will, but if hate-sex is what turns you on, I can always pretend.”

“Please..I need to taste you more, Y/N, so bad..” he begged and you pulled out your fingers, clenching around nothing when Dean lifted your hand to his mouth, closed his eyes, and began sucking hard on them. With one hand still rubbing himself, the other one found his way to your pussy, not letting you be empty for long, his long fingers filled you perfectly. That angle was so much better for him to finger you while you went back to rubbing your clit. You clenched around him hard, moaning and whimpering when his moves sped up, hitting the sweet spot deep inside you. “Oh, fuck, Dean, I'm-!” He was still sucking onto your fingers, and you had to brace yourself on the roof of the car with your other hand, when an intense orgasm overpowered all your senses. You had forgotten what words were and only whimpers were leaving your mouth when he continued fingerfucking you through your climax. You had now completely ruined his pants with your juices, but he clearly didn't mind, as he watched you coming off your high while he started to jerk himself off. “You're so fucking beautiful right now.” You were squirming in his lap, as he continued rubbing your clit, all sweaty and breathless from your orgasm. “The view I have right now.. fucking hell, you're..” he gasped and shut his eyes as he finally came hard, cum spurting onto your stomach. “Fuckk..!”He continued to stroke himself until he was all out. Both of you were out of breath, when you leaned into him to close the gap between you.

Your kisses now were much sweeter, slower. “I ruined your dress, babe.” He whispered. You smiled against his lips. “I ruined your pants, so I guess we're even.” Your fingers ran through his hair, gently scratching his scalp, making him moan softly. “Thank God you always make us pack up some extra clothes for the hunts. Wouldn't want to explain this to Sammy.” 

You reluctantly pulled away from his arms and sat next to him, both of you still half-naked and not bothering to cover yourselves. “I think he'll be happy for us. Or at least that much, that he doesn't have to be afraid that we'll jump each other's throats.” For some time, you sat there in silence, still not able to think clearly. Even after that intense orgasm that you had, there was still desire burning inside you for his cock. “Dean…” you started, slowly moving your hand up his thigh again. “What if we make a little detour before going home?” You looked up at him with big doe eyes. “What do you mean?” He smirked at you. Your smile widened. “What if you fuck me right now like you imagined and afterwards we buy some morning-after pill and hope for the best?” You were clearly blinded by the arousal, but as you learned, so was Dean, when he hungrily pulled you back into his lap.

“Are you really sure about this, Y/N?” He purred against your neck. “Yes, I'm sure.”

Basking in the afterglow, you were both again breathless and speechless. “Oh...uhm..fuck..that was..yeah.” Dean had a hard time finding words to describe what you both just experienced. “Yeah..I know.” You smiled at him, totally satisfied with yourself now and you knew Dean was too.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @alternativeprincess94 @il0vebeingdelulu

[deansapplepie]

Inherited | Chapter 4

Summary: You’re not leaving the farm and now Daryl need to deal with the fact that both of you are sharing a house.

Warnings: yelling (?), swearing, ghosts of the past, soft asshole Merle.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 2,630

A/N: English isn’t my first language so it can have mistakes.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Why does it matter?

The next morning Aaron and Eric left to New York, you were going to miss them, but life needed to go on and they had their own lives. You stayed on the porch watching the taxi disappear on the road, now your real life started, no Aaron and Eric to build a bubble of protection around you. It was you, the farm, the memories of your father, your ghosts and Daryl.

“Why didn’t ya get a ride with them?” You jumped at Daryl’s voice and presence, you thought he had left as soon as the guys had said their farewells.

“ ‘cause I’m not leaving” you answered, and now it was his moment of being startled, his heart beat desperately and anxiety was boiling in the pit of his stomach.

“Wha’ d’ya mean?”

“It’s ours. Everything. I don’t mistrust you, but he made this choice for a reason and I don’t think I was supposed to leave.” You turned to him and you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. “We’re stuck together.”

He stared at you for some seconds and it felt like hours, you held his sight. Who looked away first would lose this battle. You didn’t know what was on his mind, but you knew he wouldn’t voice anything. “I’m planning on separating his things for donating, there’s probably things that fit you. If you wanna, you can join me and help, of course if you don’t have anything better to do.”

He wanted to say ‘maybe’ or ‘I dunno’, but nothing came out of his mouth, he grunted in response and left descending the stairs, he needed to think, he needed some time. He was almost accepting the idea of both of you having to talk from time to time due to the situation, but he wasn’t prepared to live full time with you.

After he left, you went back inside and went towards your dad’s bedroom, you didn’t opened it since you arrived and you still didn’t know if you were ready for it. You breathed in, your hand touched the doorknob and you finally opened the door. It was the same you remembered, all organized and clean, mostly men weren’t as organized as him.

It hurt not seeing him around and it felt wrong going through his things, but you also knew that it made no good keeping his things and it would be better if you could redirect it all for people that could use or that needed. You made small piles of things, his shirts, his belts with cool buckles, boots, pants, hats… there were so many things, but fortunately you knew what to do with some of them.

It wasn’t very difficult to separate his things, since he was very organized, but of course you couldn’t make it all in a day. You walked around the room and on top of the chest of drawers you saw a picture of you and Daryl, when you were kids. You remembered so damn well when it was taken, it had been on your first summer back to the farm and you were so happy, even Daryl was smiling in the pictures, teeth and all, and even as a kid he wasn’t one to openly smile like that.

“Why are ya smiling stupidly?” You jumped at the voice that came from the door.

“Jesus Christ! Couldn’t you knock or make some noise? You scared the shit out of me!” You complained, your hand on your chest and the other still holding the picture frame. Your smile faded, you hadn’t even noticed how big you were smiling, your cheeks hurt.

He shrugged, he didn’t give a damn if he scared you or not, it even entertained him. But his curiosity was bigger and stronger than him, so he didn’t even see when the words left his mouth. “What were ya lookin’ at?” He knew he was going to regret it.

“Us.” You replied, you could have made up an excuse and hidden the picture, but he was going to know it either way. Besides that, baby Daryl wasn’t the one that hurt you so you were allowed to smile and remember fondly of him. You turned the picture frame to him, so he could see. “Little you, with his cute blond hair and smiling, who’d guess you’d become your grumpy asshole ass.” You didn’t even know if it was allowed say the word ass so many times in the same sentence.

He took the frame from your hand and looked at the picture, damn, it was difficult to maintain his stoic face at something so cute and pure. His childhood were never easy or magic like the other children, but his best memories had been in this farm, with you and your dad… sometimes one good memory with Merle here and there. “Look lil ya before you became yer bitchy run away self.” He retorted using the cue of the moment to mask his smile into a sassy one.

When he took his eyes off the picture, he caught you staring at him. He wanted to know what you were thinking, but he couldn’t quite see your thoughts and feelings at the moment. He looked straight in your eyes for a little more time and then averted his gaze from you.

“I organized it in piles and there’s somethings that I think would be perfect for you. Like his stylish belts.” You took one in your hand to show him, he knew all his belts, he had seen him using it throughout the years. “I know you have your own, but they’re very beautiful. He was very fond of them, so I think you’re the perfect person to have it. Besides, it’s a good thing to have to remember him.”

“I don’t feel good taking his things… it feels wrong” He looked anywhere but you.

“And I don’t like to touch his things to give away and all, but is something I need to do. We can’t keep everything locked in here. I know you don’t believe in shit, but for him to be in peace on the other side, we need to move on…” you said, your voice dying in the end, expecting him to answer you harshly, but he didn’t. He just grunted and took the belt that was on your hand with a beautiful horse sculpted on its buckle. “Nice, so… his hats, you can also have them. Or at least the ones you like. I’m keeping this one.” You showed him a beautiful brown cowboy hat that you had given him in one of his birthdays many years ago. “Some shirts if you like or if it fits, you can take too. Many things are not your size, so… maybe they could fit Merle? I don’t know. The boots we need to think about something, I know you’re not the same size.”

You were holding all the conversation alone, he was unable to say anything. What he could possibly say? It pained him seeing all the things from your father being separated to give away, but he knew you were right and soon or later you’d need to do that. He woke from his thoughts with you waving your hands in front of him.

“Wha’?” He answered coming back from his turmoil of thoughts.

“I was asking about Merle, how’s he going? What’s he doing?” You asked leaning on the drawers.

“Why does it matter?” He answered, since when were you interested in Merle?

“Because he’s you brother and my friend.” You answered. God, how could he be like this? You had known Merle all your life, you could care about him and he wasn’t so bad as anyone else thought.

“He’s fine. He’s probably doing shit.” His dry answer got to your nerves, but you breathed in and kept calm.

“I was thinking… if he doesn’t have anything better to do, maybe we can contract him. We’ll need help and it’s a good way of keeping him away from… the bad things.” Why were worrying about him? It was none of your business! He was the one that should worry about his own fucking brother!

“And you think an honest job would keep him away from the nasty things he does?” His tone was acid.

“I don’t know, but we could try to help him. We can’t abandon him and…” you never got to finish your thoughts.

“He fucking abandoned me! Not once! Not twice! Many times!” He bursted out.

“I know…”

“No. Ya don’t.” He said teeth greeted. When did he became like this about Merle? His brother wasn’t an easy person, but his brother was everything to him, he would never turn his back to Merle. “I’m not talking to him about it, maybe ya should. Yer good at that, aren’t ya? Just like you made back then.”

He stormed off the room and in seconds you could hear his heavy angry steps down the stairs. Wow! Was he really mad at his brother because you told him all that happened? Did Merle lecture him or something? Damn. You didn’t know what to think.

You hadn’t expected to find Merle in the bus to Atlanta in the scorching hot day in Georgia. You were just trying to run away from everything, the negative thoughts, the shame, his words, your words, the pain… That same day you had made your luggage and called Maggie asking if she could take you to town, you were going earlier to Florida where you were going to College. She tried to talk you out of it, but you just couldn’t stay any longer.

That morning you left your dad heartbroken, he didn’t understood what had happened. He knew Daryl and you had fought, he could feel it in the air. The day before none of you showed up for dinner, saying you were not hungry and that day in the morning Daryl left early to the woods to hunt and clean his mind before starting work. Both of you gave him lame excuses and he didn’t buy any of them, you were inseparable this summer, well you had always been, but he knew there were a couple of summers that things changed between you two to more than friendship. God! He was even afraid he’d be a grandpa before what he expected. He knew both of you would eventually fall in love and get together, since childhood you were like soulmates, but he also thought he was too young to have grandchildren.

So, when you left and none of you would tell him the real reason, he stopped asking, he wasn’t going to force you into anything. But he also noticed that after that you started to call more and come less to the farm. After that you came a couple of years for thanksgiving and Christmas, but then you stopped completely.

It was the middle of the morning when Maggie left you at the bus station, you bought your ticket and as soon as they said you could enter the bus you did. You found a sit in the middle of it and chose it as yours. One minute before the bus left the station someone came running and hopped on the bus. You didn’t really paid attention, you just wanted the bus to start moving so you could watch the landscapes passing by the window.

“ ‘morning doll!” Someone said sitting by your side. You looked to your left to see Merle sat by your side. “ I Wasn’t expecting to see ya here.”

“Hey Merle…” you answered, normally it was fun to have him around, but right now you didn’t think it was a good idea to have him there. Daryl and you were much younger than him, and he saw you growing up, so even though he would hit on every woman, he never did it to you. He saw you like a little sister. “Why are you here?”

“Got some business in Atlanta…” he answered, by business he meant dealing drugs or robbing some place.

“Hope you don’t get in trouble.” You said, months after you heard he had gone to jail. Again.

“Hm… wasn’t ya supposed to leave in middle of August?” He asked, of course he knew… or he just supposed because normally it was how long the summer vacations lasted.

“Yeah, I changed my plans.” You answered looking through the window. You were not being yourself, he could see it, and he didn’t need to be a mind reader for that.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Did ya fight with Daryl?” He wasn’t the one to go around, he’d rather be direct.

Silence.

“So you fought.” He affirmed, no answer from you was an answer. “Don’t worry, give him some days, he’ll call ya and ya’ll make up.”

“We won’t.” You rested your head on the window.

“It was that bad?” He asked, you turned to him and nodded. “Ya know yer like a lil sis for me, ya can tell me anything.”

“We were both assholes.” You reckoned, but you thought what he did was worse.

You knew you’d probably regret it in the future, but you opened your heart to Merle and told him everything about your fight. At the moment it made you feel a little bit better, but of course later when you were alone you’d feel bad all again.

“Damn… this time it was real shit.” He murmured, he passed his arm around your shoulders and squeezed your arm. “ ‘m gonna kick his balls. That wasn’t how I raised him.”

You gave him a look of ‘really?’, because you knew what Merle was capable of saying.

“I dun say the things he said to a pretty sweet girl like ya.” You weren’t sure that he didn’t, because you never saw Merle being nice to any woman besides you or the nice elderly lady from the bakery that would give him extra cookies or muffins every time he went there.

“Please Merle, don’t tell him anything. I don’t want he thinking I was talking bad about him.” You pleaded him, you just told him because he was a friend and you needed to vent. Also he wasn’t going to leave you alone until you said anything. “Promise you’re not saying anything.”

“I promise doll.” He lied. Once he was with his little brother he’d give him a hard time. He knew you wasn’t a saint too, you even admitted it to him, but he couldn’t let him go easy for what he did.

At the Atlanta bus station, you said your farewells to each other and received a brotherly hug from Merle before heading to the airport.

After you finished with everything in your dad’s bedroom, you took the things you separated for Daryl plus the picture and headed downstairs. You didn’t know where he was or where he went, but you descended to the basement and let everything on the mat in front of his door. You weren’t expecting the way he reacted and you didn’t know everything would turn out like this. You sighed and left the basement, going to kitchen after all, you still needed to eat.

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Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Inherited Taglist: @angelbunny222 @lightningyummy

[tatertotsafterdark]

Marking - Scott Howl x Reader

18+ MDNI. READ “CONTAINS” SECTION BEFORE READING.

|| Being a struggling college student sucks. Luckily, your werewolf boyfriend doesn't mind helping you de-stress - even if he gets a little too into it.

CONTAINS: AFAB READER, GIVING!SCOTT, RECEIVING!READER, BITING, MARKING, HICKEYS, OVER THE CLOTHES, NO AFTERCARE, MENTIONS OF MIDTERMS

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: IK I switched this fic from what was planned at the last minute but shhhhh... tried to put some characteristics of the Monster Prom writing style but I don't know how successful that was. Based mainly off the first Monster Prom game. (Ignore how the gif is monster roadtrip okay byeeee have fun reading or don't)

Midterms, midterms, midterms. Jesus fucking Christ. That’s all your life has been for the last few weeks, working on gradually revising your notes and studying for those God forsaken tests, worth a part of your grade that’s way too big. You slam your flat palms onto the desk in your small apartment, giving it a good couple of smacks. You’re frustrated, unable to grasp the topic you’re reading through. Why the hell did you have to take a math class? You hated math. Your major didn’t really use math, either. 

You groan as you hear a knock at the door, lifting yourself on to tired legs. Who visits this late at night, especially when you have a giant sign on your apartment door labeled “DON’T DEAD OPEN INSIDE?” You’d think by now people would catch on to your witty ideas of decoration and lack of availability. Maybe studying for midterms wouldn’t be so hard if you’d stop making interior design into your impromptu passion. 

Your hand quickly twists the knob, without giving much thought to check if there was some kind of evil monster or a serial killer or a Jehovah Witness outside of your door. Luckily, it’s none of those - it’s Scott! You manage a smile as his tail wags, and step aside, nonverbally inviting him inside. You can do that since he’s not a vampire. He quickly enters, wrapping his muscular arms around you.

“Dude, where have you been?!” He yells out, a large and toothy smile plastered on his face. You can practically hear his tail wagging, and you can definitely hear it hitting into his backside as it wags. 

“Studying.” You reply, returning the hug weakly and shuffling back over to the living room, lit only by a singular lamp (setting the aesthetic is an important part of studying, after all). You didn’t realize it until now, but your desk was piled with sticky notes, flashcards, notebooks, highlighters, pens in every color under the sun, and empty energy drink cans.

“Studying? Who even studies anymore?” Scott cocks his head, making that stupid-yet-so-damn-cute face at you like he always did when he was questioning your totally normal decisions. 

“I mean, c’mon, when was the last time you got some sun, bro? Your curtains are never open.” Scott says, a small pout on his lips as he looks down at you. You opt to ignore the comment about your currents, and instead huff and walk over to your desk.

“It doesn’t matter when I last left my apartment or opened the windows or anything like that. What’s important right now is that I teach myself everything my professor has been trying to teach us for the past few weeks.” Your ass hits the office chair a bit hard, which sends it backwards. The back of your chair hits Scott’s front, stopping it in its place. 

“You haven’t even showed up to the gym recently! You’re not getting any exercise.”

“I’m not interested in exercising. I want to pass these dumbass exams, Scott. Plus, there isn’t an exercise in the world that I actually like.” 

“Yes there is, bro, you know that.” 

“Great, Scott, then go ahead and tell me because you definitely know me better than I know myself.” You roll your eyes, and the action could probably be heard just off of the nasty tone you dip down into using. Swapping sleep for caffeine isn’t good for your mood, note to self. 

“Well, Polly says that sex burns calories, so therefore, it’s exercise.” 

You freeze up for a moment, thinking about the implications of the sentence that just slipped out of Scott’s lips. Was he implying that you two-? 

Before you can think much longer, one of Scott’s large hands is slowly massaging your chest, and the other is in between your thighs. He may be a bit academically challenged, but at least he wouldn’t be totally lost in an anatomy class. You can’t help but lean into the touch. It’d been ages since you’d gotten any action, even before you started obsessing over getting good grades on your midterms. Scott’s large fingers rubbing slow circles over your clit is enough to melt your brain, getting it off of finding derivatives, even if it was only for a temporary amount of time. 

“Shit- don’t stop- please.” You manage to get your voice to work in between pathetic squeaks and whimpers, and Scott simply speeds up in response to your words. You close your eyes, soaking in the much needed feeling of human contact. Two of Scott’s fingers find their way to the hard bud that’s developed under your shirt, gently twisting and pinching it as your moans get louder.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, and before long, you feel fangs on the tender flesh. Love bites are completely welcome, of course, so you don’t complain. You run your fingers through his hair as he finishes you off, giving you much needed release without so much as undressing you.

“There, bro! Now you’ve got your daily workout in. Your studying is going to be way easier now.” Scott says with a proud smile, turning your office chair around to face him. The way his face drops, you can tell he’s totally marked up your entire neck to the point even a turtleneck wouldn’t be enough to hide it. Oh, shit. 

“Well… a workout is exactly what I needed. Thanks, bro.”

“Anytime, dude! Just, uh, make sure you have that color corrector stuff you were talking about the one time.” Scott laughs, turning on his heel and walking to your kitchen. You rub your fingers over the bite marks, and the fact that they’re indented into your skin is enough to tell you that any amount of color corrector wouldn’t be enough anyway. They trail up to just below your ear, so you’ll just have to hide away in your room and study for a few more days until they fade. 

You take a deep breath, turning away from Scott as he opens your fridge, and picking up one of your colorful pens for the umpteenth time that evening. 

[ladykailitha]

In the Midnight Hour Part 4

We get more of the party as plan is starting to form.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

*

Eddie landed on the roof and tapped on the window. The window immediately opened and he leapt back in surprise.

“Holy shit!” he cried. “You’ve never been waiting for me before.”

Steve chuckled. “Jokes on you. I’m always waiting. I just usually am in bed when I do. “

Eddie cocked his head. “You wait for me?”

“I can set my watch to you showing up, you know?” Steve teased. “At exactly midnight, like clock work.”

Eddie blinked. “You know...I don’t think I realized that I was that punctual. Mrs Click would have been impressed. Was always late to her class.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think anyone liked her class, not even the history nerds.”

“You a history nerd, Harrington?” Eddie asked as he sat down on the roof gripping his ankles.

“No,” Steve said as he crawled out of his window to sit next to him. “The dates made my head swim. Though that could have been the concussion.”

“Just how many concussions have you had?” Eddie barked.

Steve cocked his head to the side. “Is that your first question tonight?” he asked with a wink.

Eddie laughed. “Sure, pretty boy, if that how you wanna play it. That’s my first question.”

“Um...if I’m counting them right, three,” Steve said after a moment.

“Three in three years?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not good,” Eddie said softly. “Do you know that too many of them can kill you? Like even if it’s a little bump, having too many concussions will make your brain so soft a little bump could kill you. And you’re out there fighting monsters, protecting those kids and for what? You don’t owe them a god damn thing, Steve. Jesus Christ!”

Steve looked down at his hands. “Did I tell you the first time I faced a monster I ran?”

Eddie’s mouth went dry. “Nope. No way. I’ve seen you in action, dude. There is no way you ran.”

He shrugged. “You can ask Nancy and Jonathan if you want. They’ll tell you how I turned tail and ran.”

“Wait...” Eddie said slowly. “I do know this story. Nancy was telling it Robin. You came back. You listened to their screams of terror and came back.”

Steve looked up at him with a small smile. “Yeah, I did. Jonathan had to drag me and Nancy out so we could all run together. But this is what I meant when I told you give yourself some credit. Fight or Flight. You couldn’t fight it. So you ran. It’s okay to run. As long as you come back when you need to.”

Eddie closed his eyes.

“And you did, Eddie,” Steve said softly. “You fought for Dustin who you wanted to protect.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Eddie said with a smile.

Steve bumped their shoulders together. “My turn. Why was Chrissy Cunningham in your trailer that night?”

“Fuck, man,” Eddie said. “Veto.”

Steve winced. “Sorry.”

Eddie sighed. “I just don’t want to get you into trouble. It wasn’t strictly legal. But she was so scared, man. Pure terror in her eyes.”

Steve nodded. “I think Vecna had been haunting her for a while. Like what he did with Max and Nancy.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You didn’t know?” Steve asked with a frown. “All the victims had Vecna in their head.”

Eddie thought for a minute. “Holy shit, that makes more sense.” He looked at Steve. “Is that what you think, that I’m a Vecna specter living inside your head?”

“You are my greatest failure, man,” Steve said quietly. “It would make sense.”

Eddie frowned. “You told me not be a hero, and I did it anyway. I thought you said that you were pragmatist. What happened to that?”

Steve sighed heavily. “It’s Dustin. He blames me for your death. He’s changed so much in his grief and there is nothing anyone can say or do to pull him out of it.”

“Shit.” Eddie had been so caught up in the thrill of teasing Steve that he forgot that there were other people that would miss him.

“You should go visit him,” Steve murmured. “Or your Uncle Wayne.”

Eddie let out a low whine. “I can’t. You know why I can’t.” He tapped to the side of his head.

Steve let out a low gasp. “Shit, man. I got so wrapped up in everything that I forgot I don’t live in a world that you aren’t some bastard’s plaything.” He ran his hands over his face. “That was cruel of me to suggest it.”

Eddie nodded. “I wish I wasn’t. But even I know if Veckie decides to the plug, I’m back to being dead.”

Steve nodded back. He ran a finger over the scar on Eddie’s chin. “I wish I could have saved you.”

Suddenly Eddie was clutching his head.

“Eddie!” Steve called. He reached out to touch him but Eddie shrank away.

“It’s‒ah!” Eddie screamed. “It’s Vecna. He’s angry. Oh god, it hurts!”

Steve was on his knees. He didn’t dare touch Eddie, but he hovered close. “What hurts?”

Eddie just screamed and then suddenly he was being yanked into the air, his feet kicking as he was pulled back to the Upside Down.

Steve stared at the no vacant spot where Eddie once was in shock. He had touched Eddie before. But this time it hurt him. What had changed?

*

Steve didn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning. The guilt of having hurt Eddie, eating away his insides. He knew that there was only one person he could talk to about this.

He showered and dressed. On his way he stopped by and grabbed donuts. He pulled into the parking lot and fought to control his breathing. He pounded his fists on the steering wheel and he squeezed his eyes shut.

It was the right choice. It had to have been. Because there wasn’t another. He got out the car and grabbed the donuts.

“You can do this,” he said to himself, talking himself up.

Steve looked up at the hospital, lips quivering, hands shaking as he gripped the box. He took one step. And then another. Soon he was at reception asking for her room number because he knew she had been moved since the last time he was here.

He walked into the room to see Max sitting up and chatting with someone just behind the door. He took another step and immediately tried to back out.

“Oh shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” He stepped back, but realized he still had the donut box in his hand. “Oh here. I mean. You can have these. I’ll come back later.”

“You take one step out this room, Steve Harrington,” Max growled from her bed, “and I will hunt you down.”

Steve looked down at the floor. “I think that’s up to Dustin, if he wants me here.”

Suddenly he had an arm full of Dustin Henderson and they were both crying.

“I didn’t mean it,” Dustin cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Steve just tucked the boy under his chin and held tight.

Max huffed. “It’s about time, morons.”

They finally stepped away from each other.

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve said. “I should have left someone else with you so he didn’t feel the need to protect you.” I should have stayed.

“He was so brave,” Dustin whimpered.

“I‒I might have some news on that front,” Steve said. “It’s why I’m here bribing Max with donuts.”

Both Max and Dustin’s eyebrows shot up.

“About Eddie?” Max asked.

“Sorta,” Steve said. “But that’s the wrong order. Let me tell it from the beginning.”

And so he did. He talked about the nightmares at first. The constant terror and ghosts from his past. Everyone he couldn’t save. Barb. Billy. And finally Eddie.

And then about a couple months back, Eddie started showing up at his house at midnight. Every night. He was and wasn’t Eddie. He had the same smile, the same humor, but he was wrong. Fangs, wings and claws. His wounds sealed, but not healed. As if one touch and the wound would open, spilling his life’s blood once again.

How Steve thought that these were just more nightmares. But found out a couple of days ago that he might be more real than he thought. How scared he was for Eddie. How Vecna was living in his head. And that’s why he needed to talk to Max.

“Because Vecna had been living in my head, too,” she said softly.

Steve nodded. They had long since polished off the donuts and Steve was sitting on the edge of her bed, Dustin back in his chair next to them.

Dustin let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god he went to you and not anyone else.”

Steve frowned. “Why’s that?”

“Anyone else would have been too mad with grief to think properly.”

That hurt. Steve inhaled sharply. “You don’t think I miss him as much as everyone else?”

“No, no!” Max cried rushing to reassure him. “That’s not what he meant at all. Right, Dustin?”

Dustin looked between them, eyes wide. “No of course not. What I meant was that you’re always level headed in a fight. Everyone else would have been so caught up in their grief it might have broke them.”

Steve sighed and went over to Dustin, hugging him again. “He misses you.”

Dustin started crying again. “I want him back. I just...”

“I know,” Steve murmured. “Me, too. Me, too.”

“Which is why we need to get the party back together,” Max said.

“We were only planning to destroy the gates and kill Vecna,” Dustin agreed. “But now we have to save Eddie, too.”

Steve nodded. “We’re going to need Wayne, too.”

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11   Part 12  Part 13

Tag List: @estrellami-1 @anzelsilver @thequeenrainacorn @savory-babby @chaoticlovingdreamer @grtwdsmwhr @renaissan-vvitch @panicatthediaz @swimmingbirdrunningrock

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Tangerines and deers- Part 4

Series masterlist

Tangerine pushed Ladybug through the doorway, you sat on the counter in the kitchen.

Tangerine saw you in the corner of his eyes, he thought that you were odd. And lemon was right, you were way to calm about this. You were barely helping Ladybug.

Tangerine pushed Ladybug onto a seat, and punched him, and started to strangle him with the seatbelt. You hopped off the counter quickly and punched tangerine, knocking him off of ladybug.

“You could’ve helped me earlier.” Ladybug groaned.

“Shut up.” You said, looking around and sliding underneath tangerine. You pushed a red button, and tangerine and you flew out the train.

Ladybug grabbed your hand as you held on, but tangerine tried to climb up as well, and a train came passing by. Ladybug pulled harder and you climbed back into the train and tangerine followed.

You fell back a bit, and ladybug took over. Tangerine tried to get to you, but ladybug started to choke him. But Tangerine grabbed him and threw him on the ground.

“Ouch.” you winced, holding your hand. Youre pretty sure that ladybug broke your damn hand.

Tangerine grabbed chopsticks and held them above his face.

Ladybug grabbed his arms and used all his force to stop him. You quickly got back up, tangerine didn’t have enough time to process what you were doing. And out of nowhere, your hand hit the back of his head.

He groaned, and held the back of his head. It was bleeding.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You winced, holding your hand again. And he got off of Ladybug as his phone rang.

You reached your hand out to Ladybug and helped him up. And tangerine fumbled around for his phone.

“Yeah, what do you want?” He said.

“The white death says to get off at next stop holding the briefcase or he will kill everyone on that train.”

“Okay, yeah I can make it, but Lemon, he’s a little tied up right now.”

“Both of you this time. With the case. Or everyone dies.” Lemon let out a quiet sigh in annoyance and hung up the phone.

“Fuckin’ paranoid, this lot. You don’t happen to have the case on you, do ya?”

“No.” Ladybug said, fixing his hair.

“Ladybug..” you held your hand up to his face.

“Oh. Wow… you sure it’s not broken?” He grabbed your hand, examining it.

“Fucking feels like it. You have the grip of a goddamn giant.” You groaned.

“Sorry. Uh, maybe Maria or someone can check it out later. She’s good at this type of stuff.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d reach lemon in time anyway. You still got his phone.” Tangerine continued.

He turned to you know “Don’t you have a gun on ya? Lemon mentioned it. Nice sticker, by the way. Might have to take that idea.”

You had a sticker at the front saying “Fuck you.” So that if you did shoot someone, the last thing they would have been told is fuck you.

“Thanks, but this idiot made me put it away.” You scoffed.

“Why?”

“It goes against his morals.” You said, holding quotation marks up and he scoffed.

“Okay, have you learned absolutely nothing?” He turned to you.

“Okay, well, games up, mate. For what is worth, you seem like a right fucking asshole, and you seem like a horny little asshole. And I’m glad you’re gonna fucking die with me.

“Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” You nodded.

Tangerine scoffed.

“Although this is not quite how I planned my death.“ you mumbled, having a much better thing in mind.

Tangerine tried to get up, but sat right back down and held his side.

“Just curious.”

“Yeah?”

“Do they even know what lemon looks like?”

“Oh this is always so funny.” You giggled when you realized. It was very often that Ladybug acted like he was someone else.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“You two do look like twins, huh?”

“Yeah, okay. We got the case, now what?”

“You still take the train to Kyoto station.”

“Mm-hm. Yeah. Okay. We can do that. Wonderful.” Tangerine said and began to walk away.

“Hey.” The man stopped him and he turned back. “Have you opened the case?”

“No, of course not. I never asked for the combination, you know what I mean? Keep it safe that way.”

“Yeah. So no one gets greedy.” Ladybug said in a horrible British accent. And he somehow, accidentally opened the case. And what came out was not Money.

They both ran back to the train quickly, hiding as you laughed hysterically at them.

“Oh my fucking god! That was hilarious. How’d you open that? Man, todays really not your day is it lovebug?” You teased, knowing he hated the name.

“I told you to not call me that. And no, it was not funny.”

“It’s hilarious though!”

Tangerine and him got up, and tangerine gave him a look.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Like she said, I have this bad luck thing-“

“Is that what you call it?”

“I hit the thing and it went..”

“Why did you even bother trying?”

“I was trying to sell it.”

“Well I don’t think they were in the market for fucking dildos and pantyhose, were they?”

“Ah, but they were buying it.”

“Well, lovely knowing you guys. But since we’re all about to die, how bout that date? We could make it work on a train, I think.”

“Bloody hell, if I say yes, will you shut up?!” He groaned.

“Yes I will.” You smirked.

“Fine! I’ll go on the bloody fucking date if we live.”

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“Sorry. Pardon me, I don’t mean to interrupt what’s, uh, going on here. But uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a tiny white prick with a pair of glasses and a girl come through here, have you?” Lemon asked a girl and a man he saw. He took a sip of water.

“No.”

“What about a silver case with a train sticker by the handle? You seen that?”

“It’s not ringing any- uh, uncle Kimura have you seen a silver briefcase with the train- did you say train sticker by the handle?”

“Yeah. The handle had a train sticker.” Lemon was suspicious. He never said briefcase.

“That’s unique. No I haven’t seen anything like that. I think I’d remember.”

“Hm. Uncle kimura?”

“Yeah.” The man said.

“Right. Are you okay? That’s…”

“Oh yeah. Never shave on a bullet train, you know what they say.” Lemon said and started walking.

“Well, couldn’t hurt to ask, you know? I’m just gonna keep following him.” He tried to pass them, and they moved out the way.

“You guys take care. Just one thing, though, uh… most people assume suitcase, you know, cause it’s a train, overnight and all. But you…” he sighed and turned around to face her “You said briefcase.” He shrugged “I never said briefcase.” He took out his gun.

“I think… I found my diesel.”