#and is getting tossed out bc management is fucking moronic

[alphacrone]

this is your reminder that 99.9% of employers care more about money than you and even if they are kind and fair now they WILL at the end of the day put profits over your well being so absolutely do not sacrifice your life for them.

[sightlined]

@starsassume from [ here ] bc reasons:

Protective action prompts  | @sightlined (Billy Russo) [ INTERCEPT ] : sender takes a bullet(s) meant for the receiver (Frank Castle)

“Russo!” Frank’s voice roars down the narrow corridor as he barrels down behind him, gun pointed at his back. He notes the moment Bill freezes, the tensely drawn line of his shoulders before he slowly turns to face him, hands raised. Frank doesn’t give him a moment to recover, closing the distance between them until they are but a mere breath apart, barrel pointing squarely at Russo’s head. Breath is coming rapidly, matching the rapid beat of a heart flooded with adrenaline. Bill’s lips part, and he knows before it comes that there’s something biting waiting on his tongue, but just at that moment Frank sees the shadow of movement over Russo’s shoulder.

One of Russo’s men, judging by the uniform. Only he wasn’t aiming at Frank, SMG lining up to take a clear shot at Bill’s exposed back. Frank doesn’t think, arm coming up to shove Billy roughly into the wall. He feels the impacts to his vest, the sting of a stray bullet finding flesh before the sound of it catches up to him and he grunts as balance fails, stumbling onto a knee at the same time gun raises to fire off two succinct shots at the attacker. As the man falls a pained sound leaves Frank, struggling to stand and he’s lost his advantage on Bill but the point seems moot now.

Whatever fury had been fuelling his quest for vengeance it had been quieted the moment he saw Billy’s life in danger.

He swears under his breath, arm resting against the wall to keep himself upright and when he finally regains composure and deep brown hues land on Bill’s face there’s something determined resting there.

“See, what I can’t figure. Is when did it start? When did you get into bed with the likes of Schoonover and Rollins? Because I keep hearing this voice in my head.” The hand wrapped solidly around his Baretta gestures weakly. “And it’s you, Bill. Back at Kandahar. And I figure.. there’s just no way Billy Russo would turn his back on one of his own. There’s just no way. So I’m thinking, right. I’m thinking it must be me. It must be something I did. Because you wouldn’t betray me, nah… Not you. Not unless I betrayed you first. So whatever it is, Bill.”

He’s making a statement now, gun tossed with a clattering sound to the floor and he pushes off the wall with one smooth movement. He brings himself upright and he knows without looking that blood coats his shirt, his vest. Slick and glistening in the dim lighting off the corridor. They have minutes, maybe, before Homeland storm this building but right now it’s just the two of ‘em. Frank and Bill. Like old times.

“Whatever it is. I’m here, okay. I’m here. You do what you gotta do.”

It was always going to go down ugly, the end of this - the end of them - but there was still the shock of facing down the literal barrel, that split second of eye contact a rougher impact than Frank’s body crashing into him to shove him out of the way. It was so fucking familiar, he didn’t even pull a knife mid-way, though Billy knew it would have been the saner thing to do. Frank Castle made it clear that he was going to put him down, and when Frank made his mind up, there was no stopping the inevitable.

He was coiled and back on his feet the second the brief exchange of bullets fell silent, his own gun gripped firmly through the tac gloves Frank had half-teased him about, what felt like a lifetime ago. Billy’s eyes tracked the dead man on the ground, and a flicker of hesitation passed over his face before he reeled himself back in to neutral. With the fight out of Frank, he had time.

Didn’t really matter, when his life was numbered in however many moments Castle could tolerate him still standing; and now apparently he’d been marked expendable. Rock and a hard place; fall on the panting knife before you, or let a sniper find your skull in their scope a day, four, ten from now when you were taking a piss. 

Better the death he knew.

The clatter of Frank’s gun hitting the concrete snapped Billy’s head back up, and he followed the tired line of the soldier’s body to his eyes - always honest, always a clear reflection of his intent. In the comms earpiece, Billy heard coded chatter; Rawlins' mop-up crew didn’t seem to realize he had ears on both frequencies.

“You made your choice when you left me behind, Frank.” It was more honest than he’d allowed himself to be to anyone other than the mother he wasn’t done hating. “I would have followed you anywhere, anywhere,” Billy’s finger jabbed the center of Frank’s vest near where the slug was still buried, “and you fucking know it. But you went the one place you knew I couldn’t.”

That bland suburban kitchen, all filtered golden sunlight, middle-class clutter, the perfect fucking snapshot, if you ignored the screaming rows, the plates shattered, the divide between the veneer and what festered underneath.

Billy didn’t know he was lifting the gun until the muzzle was already nestled against Frank’s belly, that sweet spot between his belt and where the vest ended. Frank, unless he had a good reason, always went for the quick, efficient kill; one of the may things that made them different.

“All I wanted was--”

“Hands up!”

The voice behind them wasn’t one Billy recognized, but it didn’t matter; the one thing he wasn’t going to allow was for Rawlins to finish it his way. In one movement he shoved Frank behind him and down, twisting to raise the gun up enough to fire. It was always going to be too slow; flank exposed, position wrong, he was a target only a moron couldn’t hit. The first two shots got him in the midsection: one entering somewhere beneath his ribs, the other catching the edge of his vest. Billy managed to squeeze off a round - wild, useless - before the third bullet hit him in the thigh and his leg crumpled under him. It was enough of an improvement in the angle that the next two shots Billy fired hit home in the agent’s skull. He clutched uselessly at his side, blood pooling quickly between his fingers, and bared his teeth at Frank over his shoulder.

“Get the fuck out of here! Now!”

[ahwuum]

I absolutely love freewood with mute! Ryan and bcs this is me, how about throwing some angst into it? Like Ryan and Gav went undercover and things goes just as planned UNTIL Gav mis-steps and their disguise was blown. One of the bad guys get to Gav when they were seperated and Gav didnt realise the bad guy but Ryan did and he tried to warn gav but oh god he cant talk and gav too far away to notice him and the bad guys aiming his gun at Gav and Ryan sprinting to save him but the gun when off...

Yesss I love this so much omg! I decided to write a little something for it quick, sorry it took a while aha

‘All clear?’ Ryan signs to him once they’ve creeped up along the walls of the complex to the entry door, waiting while Gavin checks the security cameras from his phone.

‘Yep, the loop’s started now, so we have a few minutes before the next guard makes his round, but it shouldn’t take much longer than a minute to transfer the files. Let’s go.’ Gavin signs back, grinning and giving him a thumbs up before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the keycard he’d swiped from the guard at the gate and pressing it against the scanner.

Green light. Go.

They move quickly, quietly, the layout of the entire underground complex committed to both of their memories by this point. The server room they need to get to is down a set of stairs, through another locked door and then on the left.

It’s so easy it’s like they’re begging to have all their information stolen.

Bank details, safe house locations, weapons stache, upcoming deals, heist plans, active jobs, all invaluable information that the FAHC could definitely use. All conveniently held in the one server room in an underground complex that, sure, has plenty of armed guards and locked doors that you need a keycard to get through, but beyond that has almost no security.

It’s so easy that Ryan starts to think that maybe they are begging to have their information stolen, especially as they get further in and still come across no guards.

Of course, that had been part of the plan, only one guard making the rounds of this particular wing, and no foreseeable reason as to why any other guards would be down in this area. But it makes him nervous.

What kind of crew leaves their server room so unprotected? What kind of crew would even put all of their information on the one server that could so easily be broken into? What kind of crew—especially one this big—would leave just one guard standing watch at the only way into their secret underground complex?

He slows down only for a moment as his creeping suspicion becomes genuine concern and anxiety, head swivelling around as he tries to spot anything amiss around them.

In the time he takes to look around, Gavin’s gone ahead of him, unaware that Ryan’s stopped as he continues toward the door. He notices too late that Gavin’s going to open it, that he hasn’t come to the same realisation as Ryan and he’s going to open that door and get shot-

‘Gavin, wait!’ He signs frantically, trying to wave his arms in the hope that the blur of motion might catch in the corner of Gavin’s eye and he might turn to look.

In the moment he wishes desperately for his voice back. He hasn’t had it since he was a child, mouth probably doesn’t even remember how to form words anymore, but-

But if he could just yell, just get Gavin’s attention so he can save his damn life because he’s too far to run and stop him before he’ll open the door and his brain is running on too much adrenaline to remember that he could clap his hands, could hit the glass window next to him or-

Gavin presses the key card against the lock. Green light. Go.

He’s shot before he can even get the door fully open, body tumbling backwards like a doll being tossed onto the floor. Luckily, the door closes with him and Ryan’s bolting to catch up to him, picking him up bridal style and holding him tight against his chest as he turns heal and sprints in the other direction.

They knew.

They fucking knew.

Deciding the fact that their crew having a fucking mole is something he’ll be pissed about later, he instead focuses all his energy on slowing his brain down enough that he can remember the layout like before, remember what hallways go where so he can find an alternate exit because he knows that this crew isn’t stupid enough to leave the way they came in clear. There’s probably a dozen guards already waiting.

He can’t even let the rest of the crew know what’s going on; he doesn’t have a comm (for obvious reasons) and Gavin’s got lost somewhere in the chaos. They’re completely alone, no way to ask for help now.

Gavin’s practically limp against him, barely clutching onto him with trembling fingers as his eyes look around blankly like a drunk person’s. He’s gulping air like a fish out of water, rasping and coughing, blood dribbling out of his gaping mouth and rolling down his neck.

It’s not a pretty sight.

Ryan’s seen worse in all his years, sure, but nothing could compare to seeing Gavin with a bullet in both his shoulder and his gut.

They’re lucky he only got tagged twice, fuck.

It could have been so much worse. It could have been so much worse, but it also could have been avoided completely, if he had have just been able to warn him-

“Ryan,” Gavin rasps out, his eyes starting to focus more as the shock wears off a little, “Ryan, go through that door on the right.”

He follows without thinking (though perhaps he should have taken a moment to think twice about it considering the fact that Gavin looks ready to pass out), the door opening up to what looks like a break room. It’s small, with a tiny kitchen stuffed into the corner and a few shitty little tables scattered about.

It’s a dead end, they’re trapped.

He purses his lips and glares down at Gavin accusingly since he can’t really use his hands now, though he’s not sure if that even comes across through his skull mask.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re thinking I’m an idiot now, aren’t you?” Gavin laughs weakly, reaching up with a bloodied hand to give the side of his mask a couple of patronising taps, “but even when I’m shot I’m bloody brilliant; I might’ve just saved your life.”

Ryan looks down at him questioningly, then turns his gaze to the room. There really is nothing special in here; a fridge, a sink, some countertops with a microwave sitting on top, a few cabinets and a vending machine—nothing they can use!

He’s about to drop him on the ground out of pure spite when Gavin rolls his eyes, grabs his chin through the mask and tilts it upwards.

There, up on the wall right above the fridge, is an air vent.

He looks down at Gavin incredulously like he’s the biggest moron alive, deciding to set him down in one of the chairs so he can actually talk.

‘Are you an idiot? This isn’t like in the movies, Gav! There’s no way we’ll fit in there!’

“Relax,” Gavin says, holding onto his side as he slumps down in the chair, “don’t you remember what I said? This is an old building, industrial. Used to be a factory decades ago and they’re still in the middle of renovating. That means the vents are bigger, they needed them to be to pump out all the fumes right? Might be tight but you can do it.”

Ryan looks over at the vent. It is quite big, but big enough to fit a person? Let alone someone as big and bulky as he is? No.

He loves Gavin dearly, but he really does want to strangle the lights out of him right now for being this stupid.

“So you go, I’ll hold them off as long as I can, it’ll be impossible to take me with you in there-” Ryan cuts Gavin off as he’s pulling his pistol from his boot, grabbing his wrist and kneeling so Gavin is looking at his eyes through the mask.

‘I won’t fit. Won’t leave you either. We’re just going to have to fight our way out. Might be harder now since we’re stuck in here and they’re probably already surrounding us-’ Ryan signs, pausing as they hear sets of boots running past the door, ‘but I trust you to cover me. We’ll get out of this.’

“Ryan, just go! I’m already shot, I’m just dead weight to you now so stop being a prick and just-”

Ryan huffs, stomping over to the fridge, climbing up onto the countertop and reaching up to yank the cover from the vent. He tries to crawl in just a little, pushing against the fridge and trying to shove his shoulders through the gap, but no use. Like he’d thought, it’s way too small.

‘See?’ He signs as he climbs back down, returning to Gavin.

“Oh,” he says softly, “I really thought it’d be big enough… And this vent leads right outside near the gate, too! It would have been perfect. God, I’m so sorry Ryan, I’m such an idiot. I didn’t save you, I’ve doomed us both!”

Ryan sighs and kneels back down in front of Gavin, cupping a hand to his cheek for a moment. When he pulls it back, it leaves a trail of Gavin’s own blood on his face.

‘It’s alright, maybe those guys we heard run by earlier came from the entry. We might be able to double back and go out the way we came, now. Or we’ll just have to fight our way out. Either way, I’ll make sure we get back home.’

Gavin takes a moment, then nods shakily, resting his gun against his thigh as Ryan hooks his arm underneath his knees and picks him up bridal style again.

They open the door quietly, Ryan peeking his head and looking around down the hallway for any guards before deciding it’s clear and pushing ahead.

They hadn’t made it very far into the building, the set of stairs they came down only a few hundred yards away and their path seemingly clear for now as Ryan jogs in a beeline for the stairs.

“Here!” He hears a guy yell from the hallway next to them, any further yelling silenced with a shot from Gavin’s pistol. All it takes is that one yell, that one shot for everyone to know where they are. Ryan’s booking it as fast as he can, now, just hoping that Gavin can manage to still shoot with his signature golden gun shaking in his hands.

His eyes are starting to droop, now.

Pushing through the burn in his legs and his lungs, Ryan makes his way to the stairs, climbing up them two at a time as Gavin starts to slump more and more in his arms, the gun in his hands starting to slip a little.

Come on, come on, he thinks, just a little longer, just a little longer…

They burst through the entry door at the top of the stairs, making it out onto the concrete courtyard before Ryan hears the familiar whirring of helicopter blades.

He looks up expecting the worst, expecting this shitty fucking crew to have had another surprise hidden up their sleeve as a helicopter starts to dip down towards the compound. Then he sees their logo.

He’s never felt so much relief as when he sees that familiar, stupid duck painting onto the side of the FAHC’s very own private helicopter; it’s possibly only rivalled by the relief he feels at seeing their entire crew out in force.

Jack’s piloting as usual, Michael and Jeremy hanging out from the side and firing bullets at the guards flooding up from downstairs, Fiona and Matt he can see doing the same from the other side, and Geoff hanging from a rope ladder, extending his hand down to Ryan as Jack lowers the helicopter enough to reach him.

“I’ve got you, we’ve got you.” Geoff yells over the whirring of the blades, yanking on Ryan’s jacket and holding him close as tightly as he can as he climbs onto the ladder. It’s an awkward task, what with Gavin in his arms, but eventually he manages to cling on and keep Gavin tight against his chest, Geoff climbing up above them until he’s back in the helicopter.

They pull the ladder back up slowly, Jack quickly veering the helicopter away from the complex as bullets fly all around them, some nicking the side and some whizzing just below the rotors, barely missing them all.

Eventually they’re pulled up into the helicopter as well, Ryan cushioning Gavin from the fall as they flop onto the floor. He doesn’t even need to look at him to know that he’s passed out by now.

In fact he doesn’t want to look at him, knowing that all he’ll see is an all-too-pale face and copious amounts of blood covering them both. Instead he sits up, presses his back against the door that Michael’s just shut behind him and holds Gavin tightly in his lap.

They made it.

“We heard shots going off through Gav’s comm, came as soon as we could.” Jeremy says as Geoff moves back to his seat in the front and everyone starts buckling back in again, looking over at Ryan and Gavin with worry, “You alright?

Ryan takes a shuddering breath, peeling his hands off Gavin’s back carefully and wincing when they come back sticky with blood.

“No,” he signs, hands shaking, “No, I’m not.”

Ok this is done aa, thank you for this lovely ask!!

Oh and just as an end note: this absolutely never happens again. After this Gavin helps make Ryan a new comm that he can use different commands with to say different things when he can’t get the attention of the others and he needs to say something to them. It’s very limited but it’s basically just so they know to look at him/can be warned/can be given answers to questions when Ryan has to break off from the rest of the guys during a heist gone wrong or something

Gavin probably spends WEEKS on it non-stop after seeing how upset and guilty Ryan feels at not being able to warn him.

[foxymuses]

@eversurviving bc retconning shit is just what the popular kids do

he’s not about to deny the man’s words, since they’re true. an easy grin crosses his features, doing his best shrug from his position. “i like my version.” it’ll all be his version in the end, whether people like it or not. and he knows most won’t. in fact, delsin’s counting on it. the more resistance the normals put up, the better. there’s no point in having all this power swirling around inside of him if he doesn’t get to use it.

it’s only a minor comfort to know the other didn’t care for augustine, though delsin’s hardly taking it as much. lots of people didn’t like augustine, but he doesn’t see them trying to come after him alone with only a gun. they’re smarter than that at least. this dso must be full of morons. but alright, leon wants to play games. augustine did too, and that didn’t end well for her. the conduit’s not sure if the man knows what he’s doing, but it sure will be fun to find out. just burning people down is a little boring sometimes (okay, no it’s not, but it’s also not an option right now).

“trying to help me, huh?” he arches a brow, not bothering to waste energy on being annoyed. he lifts his encased hands for emphasis. “helping me would be taking these fucking things off. then we could really talk. man to man.” he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he means man to conduit. maybe lean was good enough to get a drop on delsin, but with his hands free? this would be over, almost even a little too quickly. “but hey, i’m a reasonable guy. y’know, mostly. you wanna talk, well we already established that i love my voice. let’s talk.”

a dramatic sigh as if it’s tedious to come up with a decent topic before he’s launching into things with “well i’m a leo, so we’re probably not compatible. i know, i know, you’re devastated. it’s okay.” tosses a wink at the man just for fun before continuing. “my favorite food is sushi, though i have been known to indulge in some peanut butter straight from the jar. i make a mean pb&j.”

a pause as he considers other irrelevant facts that he can deliver with far more importance than they’re worth. “i do also happen to like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.” somehow, delsin manages to keep his features arranged in an innocent charm, though the mischief in his eyes never truly goes away, even as he drops a shoulder in a shrug. “not really a ‘long walks on the beach’ kind though, sorry if that’s the deal breaker.” 

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

Summary: While on a job in the middle of America, Dean enjoys a rigorous night of mutual gratification with a local art student.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x original female character

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, ass play, there’s a glass dildo (bc they’re my fave)

Words: 5,232

ONE NIGHT ONLY (23 in 1)

Mila has to keep reminding herself how much money she’s going to make tonight because she knows that’s the only way she’ll get through it without setting someone on fire.

They’re down one bartender so they pulled their DJ and people are being assholes about having to put money in the jukebox, and there’s no karaoke tonight. She’s thanking God for the latter and couldn’t care less about the former, but she really fucking hates the constant complaining.

“The fuck even is this music?” one college ass whines.

She squints into the air at the invisible sound waves, as if they’ll answer for her so she can speak to this moron as little as possible. “AC/DC?” she replies with a small sigh and a large dose of eye-roll suppression. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Two vodka Red Bulls,” his friend says, scanning her up and down. “And your phone number.” He leers and she wishes for a flamethrower.

Mila smiles sickly sweet. “That’s original,” she deadpans. “Two douche drinks, comin’ up.” She walks away from their misogynist protestations and rounds the games area.

Usually, the people who hang out back there get their own drinks, but she runs through every once in a while to collect empties and trash. Tonight, however, there’re two guys back there who are hot as fuck and hustling frat boys out of their trust fund folding money, and tipping her like a couple of daddies.

She scoops up debris and dirty glassware before sidling up behind the one with the pussy-eating mouth and all the pretty freckles. He’s chalking his cue in the most smart-ass way – like he doesn’t really need to but he really wants to prolong the inevitable evisceration of these little boys who thought they were hustling him.

“You’re so bad,” she whispers in his ear, reaching for his empty whiskey glass and checking his and his giant friend’s beers. The giant nods, waving his empty bottle at her with a smile and she nods back.

Freckles tosses a smirk over his shoulder before tossing the chalk over his other shoulder and sauntering toward the table to take his shot. 

She stands to watch, resisting the urge to sink her teeth through her bottom lip because guys who can play pool like he plays pool – especially roughneck hustlers – are so her fucking jam. She shifts her weight and draws a long breath, rubbing her legs together, fantasizing about the other things she wants him to do with that cue, as he runs the table without hesitation.

When the losers erupt into chaos, she turns with a smirk of her own and makes her way to the bar to place orders for the dickbags at table 8 and her favorite hustlers. She hears fist crashing into bone and wonders if she should wait to place their order. Then the bouncer and her manager fly by her into the games room.

“Your boy’s pretty rowdy,” Monika, the head bartender, brings the douche drinks to her grinning and nodding toward the back of the bar.

She turns to see Freckles sitting back against a stool with his mostly empty beer bottle against his cheek, while the giant explains the situation to our manager. The bouncer escorts the other two guys out and she stifles a laugh as she turns to nod to Monika to prep fresh beers for them before grabbing the vodka Red Bulls for delivery. “Pour another whiskey, too, Mon. And maybe an ice pack?”

She moves to table 8, whips napkins onto the table surface, and sets the drinks down. “Twelve, please,” she says, shaking her sleek, black hair over her shoulders, batting her eyelashes and smiling that smile. Douche Canoe #2 hands her a ten and a five and as she reaches for it, pulls back ever so slightly, like this is how adult people flirt. She doesn’t suppress her eye roll this time.

“Dude,” she says with a sigh. “Your drinks are twelve dollars and I’m not buying.”

DC2’s gaze rises to look over her head just before she feels full-body heat at her back. “Hey, sis, everything ok?” It’s Freckles. She twists to look over her shoulder and up into his face with a grin. 

Damn, he’s big, she thinks.

Freckles’ giant accomplice appears at her side then, too, brows raised in question.

“Yep,” she answers. “All good.” She turns to face her asshole customers, who are now sitting straight as rods awash is a mixture of fear and confusion.

Freckles has implied that they’re siblings and that is clearly not the case; they bear no resemblance to each other whatsoever. 

“I’m adopted,” she quips. “Twelve bucks.” She holds out her hand and DC2 slowly hands her the money. She snatches it from his grip.

“Keep it,” he mumbles. He and his friend turn their attention to their drinks.

Freckles moves from behind her and he and the giant follow her to the bar. As she’s cashing in her last order, they belly up next to her. Freckles slides a twenty across the bar top and repeats DC2’s instruction to keep the change.

“Thanks,” she says closing out their order as well. The madness of the evening is starting to ebb, so she thinks it’s safe to chat for a few minutes. “Where’re you guys from?” 

Monika approaches and sets their beers, a fresh glass of whiskey, and an ice pack in front of them. Freckles thanks Monika for the ice pack, pressing it to his cheek and she winks before heading to the taps.

“Kansas,” Freckles answers and the giant shoots him a look. “I’m Dean and this is my brother Sam.” Dean thumbs the air toward his brother.

“Brothers,” she makes a surprised face because they don’t really look much alike either. “Well, Sam and Dean,” she wipes her hands on a clean, damp bar rag. “I’m Mila.” She smiles, tossing her hair again and watching Dean’s eyes light up. “You guys in town for business?” 

“Yeah,” Dean answers, following her eyes with his until she returns his gaze, holds it, and she notices how pretty and mossy they are, warm and cool at the same time, and framed by long, thick lashes and crinkles that make her want to touch his face. 

Dean’s not like the boys she’s used to. Dean’s a man. 

“Probably headin’ out tomorrow.”

She feels a pang of disappointment and frowns playfully. “But we’re just getting to know each other,” she pouts. 

Dean smirks and Sam chuckles and shakes his head, rolling his eyes up to stare at the game on the TV screen.

Dean swivels his bar stool, his thick thighs open in that way that men do when they want the world to know they’re packing. Her eyes drop to his crotch and she licks her lips. 

“We got all night, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk and Sam shakes his head again, sipping his beer and focusing on the game.

“True,” Mila smiles and bites her bottom lip because she can see from where she stands that Dean is hard and straining against the denim of his jeans. Her vision blurs slightly so she tries to blink away the fog. She clears her throat.

“Gotta clear a few of these tables,” she says before trotting off the wait stand and into the malaise.

Dean spins to watch her work, sipping his beer and holding his cheek with an ice pack. She can feel the sheer virility in his gaze and it’s making her wet. She bends and stretches in such a way that she knows he’ll enjoy before returning to the bar to offload glassware, trash, and recycling.

“Where’re you guys staying?” she asks, conversationally, trying to sound like she’s not ready to mount him where he sits.

“Uhh, Daylight Motor Inn?” Dean looks to Sam for confirmation and Sam nods, keeping his eyes on the TV. Then Dean turns to face her again. “What time do you get off, Mila?” His voice is low and deep and she feels that question in her gut.

She doesn’t pull her eyes away. “Two-thirty,” she says, sounding a little breathy.

Dean picks up his whiskey and downs it as Sam finishes his beer. “Want a ride?” Dean asks, flicking his eyes back to hers.

If the actual fucking is anywhere near as good as the eye-fucking, she’s in for a night.

Mila nods, and Dean’s eyes drop to where she’s running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Good,” he slams his beer and the brothers push away from the bar. “I’ll be back in an hour.” He smirks, reaching for her and wrapping a hand around the back of her neck before brushing his lips across her forehead.

“’Night, sis,” Sam says with a smirk and turns toward the exit. She briefly wonders if these brothers share, which is a thought that almost short-circuits her brain.

~~~~~~~

Mila and Monika walk out of the bar to find Dean leaned against a gorgeous black ’67 Impala. He grins when they make eye contact.

“Jesus,” Monika mutters.

“Right?” Mila replies to Monika, returning Dean’s grin.

The women bid each other farewell and Mila joins Dean.

“Hey,” she looks up at him, knowing that innocent eyelash-batting thing she does could kill a man.

“Hey,” he smirks down at her, reaching for her hands. He brings them to his mouth and places gentle kisses over her knuckles. 

He stands to his full height and her eyes travel across his broad chest and squared shoulders. Dean cocks his head and rounds the back of the car dragging her with him. He opens the passenger door and helps her inside.

“Where to?” he asks as she settles in the passenger seat.

She rattles off her address and Dean quirks his lips in a small smile before closing her door and rounding the front of the car to the driver’s side. He yanks the door open and dips inside and Mila eyes his long, strong legs as he settles in. The car roars to life and CCR blares from the stereo. Dean twists the knob to a more reasonable volume.

“This car is beautiful,” she says, running her fingers over the pristine dashboard. “You take good care of her.”

Dean nods with a smirk, eyes on the road, taking the turn when she points left, guiding him to her apartment complex. “Mila, meet Baby,” he says, with that rumble in his voice and sounding like he’s a proud papa. “Baby, this is Mila.”

“Aww, Baby,” Mila chuckles, moving to stroke the cool leather of the bench seat. 

Dean’s eyes dart to where she’s lovingly caressing the space between them. He bites his lips then eyes the road again. 

“Just up here,” she says, pointing off to the right.

He pulls into the big parking lot and finds a space close to the building’s entrance then cuts the engine and they both get out, Mila leading him inside. 

When the elevator doors close, Mila hooks three fingers in the waist of his jeans and yanks him into her, wrapping her other hand around the back of his neck, fingering the soft hair at the nape, to pull him down for a kiss.

Her back is against the wall and Dean braces his hands on either side of her head, kissing her slow and deep, quickly sliding his tongue inside and wrapping it around hers. She pulls his full top lip between her own and sucks. 

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, halting their progression. 

“Number 9,” Mila breathes and Dean backs out of the elevator car, dragging her with him by her hand. 

She digs through her bag for her key card as they walk to her apartment door. When she slides the found key in and out, the mechanism beeps and blips, and Dean pushes on the lever to shove the door open.

Once inside, Mila drops her bag and jacket and Dean wanders ahead of her. 

He’s got a swagger that isn’t put on; it’s just the way he walks, but he’s also guarded, searching - for what she doesn’t know.

“Beer?” she asks, ducking into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

“Sure.” Dean pokes around her living room until she meets him at the bookcase. She hands him a beer, and they silently toast before each taking a healthy swig.

“I need to shower,” she says, gnawing at the inside of her lip. 

Not wanting to delay touching him, she pushes a hand inside his suit jacket and slides around his back. His body’s thick and worn. This is where the older man thing comes in handy because she likes the feel of a body that’s well-used and built.

“Wanna come?” she asks.

Dean nods and sips his beer, looking down at her. “You’re a bold little thing, aren’t ya?” His eyes twinkle as he licks his lips and runs a single finger down the side of her face and along her jaw.  “You know what you want?” he asks before grasping her chin between his thumb and finger. 

Mila nods. “I do,” she answers. “Long legs and warm skin, nicely aged.” 

She takes another large swig of beer as she leads him to her bedroom, clicks a lamp on and sets their beers aside before turning back to face him. She’s wired tight and so ready to get his clothes off. Mila pushes his jacket from his broad shoulders and yanks at his tie.

“Like a fine wine?” Dean chuckles, reaching for the hem of her black ruffled top, tracing a finger along the waistband of her jeans. 

She pulls him in for a kiss, doing everything she has to do to get rid of his starched white button-down, and he grips her hips with both hands and he walks her backward toward the bathroom. He dips his head into the kiss and her head spins.

Mila hums. His tongue and lips are unhurried as they lick and pull at hers. She knew he’d be a good kisser, and she’s sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.

His hands pull her top off and trace the satin straps of her bra as he continues kissing her. She pulls away momentarily to twist the shower knobs to hot, then faces him again to push his undershirt up and off his torso. 

Before she kneels to get his shoes and socks off, she kicks her booties to the side then looks up at him as she lowers to her knees at his feet. 

“What’re you doin’ down there?” Dean teases, working his belt and pants open with one hand.

He is so fucking beautiful – all man, not an ounce of boy except the twinkle in his eyes. She’s never seen anyone so perfectly made. He’s big everywhere in just the right way and that smooth skin she’d touched earlier continues all the way to the tip of his long, thick cock.

“Jesus,” she wraps a hand around his thickness and strokes. 

Dean huffs a laugh peering down at her, tucking shiny black hair behind her ear. “And you’re sweet.”

Mila flicks her eyes up to hold his gaze as she licks the tip of his cock, tasting the bit of pre-cum then swirling her tongue around the thick head. She grips him as best she can in one hand then cups his balls with the other as she takes him in her mouth, never leaving his gaze. 

Dean twists a handful of her hair and tugs, and she moans around him.

She likes giving head to pretty dicks. It’s not the act itself but the feeling of consuming something so beautiful, so perfect. She doesn’t like the taste, but the mix of sensation is unparalleled.

As her jaw grows tired from the stretch, Mila pulls back to pump him with her hands. His eyes are closed and his head is thrown back, jaw slack, and he’s panting. “I want you to come on me,” she says as she spits and works the slick around him. “Are you there?”

Dean swallows thickly and gives her a tight nod. “Take your bra off?” he says, looking down at her with a kind of reverence she’s never seen. 

She releases him, unclasps her bra and drops it to the floor then watches in awe as Dean grips himself. He’s still twisting her hair in his other hand as he twists and pumps his throbbing cock. 

“Okay?” he breathes, his jaw clenched with tension bubbling under the surface. 

She nods shaking her hair back and grasping her tits in her hands, squeezing and pushing them together. 

Then Dean’s coming, covering her chest in sticky white and groaning loud and long. 

They’re both panting as she climbs to her feet. 

“Fuck,” Dean grunts, stepping out of his pants and boxers on wobbling legs. 

Mila shucks her jeans to the floor and he’s kissing her again. His lips are on hers as she opens the shower door and pulls him with her under the spray. He closes the door behind them then puts his hands on her.

He’s everywhere at once as the water sluices over their skin. She gets her hair wet and he runs his hands over her hips, sliding one hand between her thighs, stroking her skin, then up to run one single finger through her slit. 

She gasps and grinds into him, gripping his thick forearm with both hands because that’s right where she wants him. 

“Yes,” she hisses. “Fuck me with that big, rough hand.”

“Rough?” he rasps and his eyes spark. He’s looming over her with her back against the cold stone wall, one hand braced next to her head. “Is that how you want it?” He pushes his long middle finger up inside her to the last knuckle and twists.

She nods. “More.” 

She lifts a leg to rest her foot on the stone bench, opening herself for him. He slides his index finger in with his middle and twists again, brushing her clit with his thumb. She’s reminded of his hands expertly wielding that pool cue at the bar and she clenches around him. 

“I was fantasizing all night about you fucking my ass with that pool cue,” she gasps as his fingers drag inside her.

“You dirty little…” Dean drops his head to take a mouth full of her neck, biting and running his tongue over it, fucking his hand in and out of her before slipping his ring finger from her pussy and up between her ass cheeks. His ring hits her in a spot that makes her squirm anew. 

“Am I gonna get here tonight?” He presses that finger against her tight hole and nips at her throat.

“God, I hope so,” she breathes with her head back and lolling against the wall.

Dean ups the pace with his mouth on hers. Then she feels his ring press flat against her perineum and his finger slowly push inside her ass. 

Mila bucks her hips forward and back. She’s never had a guy who’d touch her there, so her desires for it were always lived alone and with toys. Dean’s big, warm finger slowly fucking her back hole is an entirely new level of holy shit that’s good.

Her mind races with all the things she wants him to do and all the things she wants to do to him.

He’s using his whole arm to thrust into her – rough but practiced. This is not Dean’s first rodeo. Like, at all. His mouth is leaving soft bruises on her throat and her collarbones. He lifts her other leg so she’s aloft and at his mercy, hanging by her knee from his hand. She has no leverage, except the tiny bit from her arms around his neck, and he’s brutal. She is quaking and vibrating as her orgasm starts to race through her.

“Oh, shit!” she shouts, her voice bouncing off the walls. He keeps fucking into her with his hand and she’s wailing, spread wide open to him and coming like she’s dying.

Dean kisses her down from her high and gently settles her on the stone bench before stepping into the hot spray of water. He washes his hands before running them over his face and through his hair. 

“I’m gettin’ out,” he says, pushing the door open and reaching for a towel. “Get that ass nice and clean for me, babydoll. I want a snack.” Dean winks and closes the shower door.

Mila sighs and stands on shaky legs then sets about doing as she’s told. 

Once she’s squeaky clean and glistening, she exits the shower and wraps herself in a towel. She’s buzzing with anticipation and when she enters her bedroom she isn’t disappointed.

Dean’s gathered every candle in her apartment, scattered them about her room and lit them, and is sitting butt naked, propped up on her pillows. He’s tossing a glass dildo back and forth between his big, calloused hands like it’s a baseball. 

Mila flushes hot and there’s another rush of moisture between her legs.

“Found my toy box, I see,” she says, dropping her towel before waltzing over to where he’s made himself comfortable on her bed.

He playfully points the toy at her like a gun, squinting one eye like he’s taking aim, and pulls the invisible trigger with a cute little pewgh! sound. 

Mila giggles and climbs astride him, pushing his wrists into the pillows on either side of his head and kissing him. After a minute of slowly getting reacquainted with his spectacularly erotic mouth, she sits on his abdomen, feeling him hard against her ass.

Dean sighs, slipping the hand not gripping her glass dildo into her smaller one, entwining their fingers, licking in and out of her mouth before pulling at her lips with his own. 

“Never seen so many fuck toys in one place, to be honest,” Dean chuckles around her lips. “Impressive.”

“Mmm, psyched to finally have someone who knows what they are,” she mutters. “It’s usually just me and-”

Dean groans and rolls her to her back, immediately spreading her legs open with his knees. 

“That image,” he nips at her throat. “Of you using this thing on yourself? Fuck.” 

He teases her nipples with smooth, cool glass, working his way down her body, rolls it with his palm over her ribcage and across her soft belly. He grips it to lightly drag it through the wet at the apex of her wide open thighs, and she shivers.

Dean takes several long moments to kiss her as he lazily thrusts the wide, cool but quickly warming glass inside her. He tilts it and grinds it against her g-spots, firm and thorough until she’s whining and undulating under his efforts. Finally, he drops the toy between her thighs and rests his heavy forearms there as well.

Mila’s been with guys who were rough and domineering, but never one who was also hyper-focused on and in-tune with her pleasure. She is out of her mind with lust.

She peers at him, and he holds her gaze as he gently parts her lips and uses his soft tongue to slowly lick up one side and down the other. He presses a light kiss to her opening and the wet sound makes her wetter. 

“Dean,” she sighs on his name and pushes her fingers into his soft hair, gripping him tight.

With each yank of his hair, Dean gets a little more forceful. He pushes his tongue inside her then slides a finger along her clit, alternates fingers and tongue, kisses her pussy like it’s the only thing to do. 

Then he backs off for a brief moment. “Roll over,” he says, smoothing his hands over her hips and patting her on one side. 

She doesn’t hesitate. 

Dean pulls at her hips until she’s on all fours. And then he’s back at it.

He cups her ass cheeks in each of his large palms and opens her with his thumbs to drag his tongue from just under her clit, slipping inside, slicking as much of her wet as he can, and over that sensitive bridge to circle her tight hole.

“Dean, my fucking god,” she gasps backing into him as he hums into her.

He chuckles quietly and pushes his face into her, mouthing her, licking her back hole. He moves one hand, keeping her open to finger her, sliding a thumb along her pussy. The combination of his hot tongue and his thick fingertip, taking turns at her ass has got her babbling into her pillows. 

“Touch yourself,” he says, continuing slow but insistent at her back hole.

“I want-” she whines, pressing her clit.

“Shh, I know.” Then he spits on her hole and pushes that middle finger inside, slowly inching until he’s up to his second knuckle. He twists and rubs and she’s coming harder than she’s ever come in her life with another person in the room.

“See?” He peppers kisses across her lower back, holding her steady, bringing her down. “Your fucking god.” He smiles against her skin.

Mila collapses and Dean grabs the throw from the foot of her bed, covering her before hopping up and heading to the bathroom. He leaves the door open and Mila lazily watches as he washes his hands and face then roots around her drawers. 

“Mouthwash?” he calls.

“Under the sink,” she answers. He’s a sight to behold, even as he performs basic hygiene.

Dean takes his time sauntering back to the bed, that seductive smirk, hard cock jutting proudly, all bowlegs and swagger.

“We should probably do something about that.” She motions broadly at his entire lower torso, but it’s not just his cock she wants – she wants all of him on her, around her. 

He crawls onto the bed to face her, each on their sides.

“What d’you suggest?” he asks, using one finger to pull the throw down, exposing her tits and watching her nipples pucker at the rush of air. 

He licks his lips and she reaches up to touch him. Dean’s eyes flick to hers and he takes two of her fingers in his mouth, swirls his tongue around them then uses his hand to press them against her nipple. His mouth covers the other and she moans.

“Hmm?” he rumbles into her neck. 

He pushes the throw to the floor and runs his hands over her sensitive skin. She practically purrs with it.

“I wanna feel you inside me,” she answers, and he nods. “Just you, hard and deep, on top of me.” 

She pulls his earlobe into her mouth and sucks as he rolls her to her back, one knee between her legs, pushing up and letting her grind against on him. He props himself on his elbows, holds her face in his hands and kisses her while she rides his thigh, trapping his cock between them, creating friction. 

“Condoms in the drawer,” she manages to eke out, running her hands from his shoulders down his chest.

Dean rises to his knees and reaches into the bedside table to open and rifle through the drawer. He finds another toy, snorts and tosses it aside then snatches a couple of foil packets from the mix.

“You’re somethin’ else.” He gives her a small smile then carefully rips one of the packages open with his teeth and hands it to her. 

He towers over her as he opens her with a hand on each knee and moves to position himself between her legs, his fingers ghosting over her skin as he maneuvers her, spreading his own thighs to create a solid place for her ankles to rest and to hold her open. He dips in to kiss her, cupping her jaw with one hand and using his other to guide himself inside her.

“Dean,” she breathes. There are no other words. That one word, name, syllable, is everything she needs right then – everything she wants.

Dean sets a lazy rhythm, grinding into her, holding her, kissing her. She wonders if she can come again. She touches him everywhere she can reach with the same unhurried fashion in which he’s fucking her. Then moves his hand to her pussy, pressing the heel over her clit and down, and she suddenly explodes.

He kisses her slow and deep as he rises to kneel upright again, gripping her hips, pulling her onto his, and upping the ante with a new angle. 

Her hips are narrow and his hands are so big that he can press a thumb against her clit just as he holds her in place to grind against her, staying deep inside her. She arches off the bed riding out her orgasm.

Just as her spasms slow, Dean settles on his haunches, gripping her hips tight and drags out then slams back in. He recalibrates his pace and his angle and Mila can’t breathe. He’s fucking into her hard and deep and slow, the air leaving her lungs with every thrust.

The sounds and words coming out of her mouth are utter nonsense and Dean is grunting like an animal. Her hands dig into the covers below them and she’s yelling now. She feels Dean’s pace stutter and she wants to see him come.

She watches his face, mouth open, eyes closed, brow furrowed. She’s overwhelmed and overstimulated and she feels a slow rumble in her core once again. 

“Oh, shit,” she sobs, disbelieving that’s she’s coming again.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers harshly into the air, fingers digging into her skin, fucking her through it.

He’s breathing heavy and fast when he drops to all fours over her, and her legs slide from his, falling open. After a few moments of catching his breath, he reaches between them and pulls out, taking care of the condom with a Kleenex from her bedside stand.

They both lay staring at the ceiling in silence, other than their panting until she speaks. “Where the fuck have you been all my life?”

And he laughs a genuine belly laugh before rolling into her once more.

The next morning, Mila makes coffee and eggs and bacon, and they talk about her plan to go to art school in the spring. She tells him she’s been saving money and that she can’t wait to get out of town. She never asks what his business in town is – she has a feeling he wouldn’t tell her anyway and that’s fine with her.

After breakfast, Dean helps her clean up the kitchen and she walks him to the door.

“Thanks again,” Dean grins down at her. He takes her face in his hands and searches her eyes before kissing her lips one last time. She sighs into it when he brushes her cheek with his thumb.

She reluctantly pulls away from the kiss. “I should be thanking you,” she says.

Dean tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and shrugs. “Mutual gratification,” he says. “Doesn’t get any better.”

She grins back at him.

Dean pulls her in again and places a small kiss to her forehead before turning to head down her hall and exit her apartment without looking back. Once Mila hears the outside door slam shut, she collapses onto her couch in a boneless heap and a fit of giggles.

Dean Winchester Master List

Supernatural Master List

[tfw-no-tennis]

hxh RESUME

back at it again w/the hxh, heres my recap of the last few eps 

ok so i totally forgot to recap that one ep at the end of the hunter exam arc lets see what i remember from like 3 wks ago lollll

i thiiiiink i left off in the middle of ep 21 lol. i really dont remember much tbh so im gonna skim the ep to refresh

exposition time! its so wild that if you lose ur hunter card That It like u cant get another or retake the exam hgabjdfuhasjf Ls 

also the fact that you can sell it is rlly interesting 

leorio & kurapika backing up gon as he confronts illumi again :’) good lil family 

illumi u fool. gon is a shounen protag. he can do anything he sets his mind to

the fact that gon thanks illumi for telling him where killua is....hes literally THAT polite like...what a perfect boy 

hisoka just fuckgin stepping out of the shadows....ok bitch 

the fact that gon fucked up illumis arm that bad with one hand....boi is STRONK 

AUGH AUGH AUGHHHH HISOKA IS SO CREEPY AUGHHH I HATE THIS BIIIITCH 

ok but like is illumi implying that hisoka is a fr p*do bc uhhhhh thats so nasty oh lord. pls stay away from gon, and killua, and like everyone as a matter of fact 

EWWWWWWWWWW I HATE HISOKA HES SO NASTY. PLS STOP MAKING P*RNO FACES IN RELATION TO 12 YR OLD BOYS. 

no but rlly what IS hisoka gonna do now. im assuming he’ll show up p soon (tho probs not in the zoldyc arc like i thought bc its shorter than i thought) 

ok the fact that they have the internet is hilariously wild to me for some reason....it just seems like this would be one of those fantasy shounen worlds with very little tech (a la one piece) but lol nope we can just google shit hvbhjdhjdfks

gon: it was fun when you beat me up for 3 hours and broke my arm! seeya dude!

i love gon he is so chill and doesnt seem to hold grudges except when it really matters (like hisoka and illumi) 

hanzo has.....ninja business cards....thats amazing hvbhsdjkujfnd

dont worry pokkle, leorio was basically carried thru the hunter exam by various people and also won by default. he still deserves his license tho

an exotic game hunter sounds pretty cool! i wonder if we’ll see pokkle again. kinda doubt it? that sounds pretty firmly non-combat based, and therefore probably pretty far from any plot lol

so gons dad is a bigshot huh.....whatever hed be a bigger deal if he didnt abandon his son tbh 

gon swinging his feet on the bench....sooo cute 

so ging could restore a bunch of ruins but he couldnt raise his son...ok

im just gonna be bitter at this guy for abandoning the most perfect boy vhbhjfbsjhdhbfsk sorry dude but being a good hunter doesnt make up for being a shit father 

gon is so precious ;_; 

WHAT WAS SATOTZ GONNA SAY TO GON???

why does it look like theyre googling things on MS paint 

ah yes, padokea, on the continent of Africa But Sideways 

idk if i talked abt it before but the world map is WILD lmao i love how its all the continents/landmasses scrambled around.....im super curious abt that weird island in the top center of the map, thats the only thing that immediately sticks out as not having a real life equivalent 

the music in this show is so charming :’) i love the main theme sm 

gon is sooo precious i literally cant get over it. and his hurry to rescue killua is so sweet....and i love how naturally charming/charismatic gon is....pretty much everyone he meets likes him, especially leorio and kurapika, who basically adopted him after knowing him for like a day, and continue to be completely taken by him

ok wtf is satotz & co talking abt......do they know something abt ging that they arent allowed to tell gon???? shouldnt gon have access to the same info now that hes a hunter? i need ANSWERS

i bet this whole thing abt the hunter exam not rlly being over is a metaphor abt the hunter exam NEVER truly ending bc youre always being tested, or st

ok the ED continues to be So Much like especially the last shot where the 4 main characters look like theyre posing for a JC Penny catalog while the singer goes FULL metal-screamo

ok ruth and i just rewatched the next two eps woohoo

i love that there are tourist busses that take people to the front gates so they can like pose for pics and stuff vhbhjafdsfkj and its like ‘ah yes here are where the local assassins live!’ thats so funny yet it makes so much sense

i love that leorio passed tf out during the bus ride. big big mood 

gon is so cute...hes like ok yes i understand that we’re not supposed to go in but i think they can make an exception for me bc im very polite. 

those 2 dudes r so ugly and so dead god bless

that bigass buster sword....sir please 

ruth and i rlly thot that the old guard guy was gonna turn out to be grandpa zoldyk or st lol

the fact that the dog managed to eat All their flesh but left some clothes....skill 

also the dog is named mike but it sounds like the guy is calling him miku hvbjdfssk

this cant be the first time some morons have been killed here likeeee 

i cant believe nobody has visited the zoldyk estate in 20 years damn they all rlly b havin no friends. depressing 

the whole gates thing is wild. also that part where gon gets the math wrong on the weight.....BIG mood kiddo 

ok the part where gons on the phone w/the butler is soooo good oh man. i love how gon just calmly dials the phone again after hes hung up on the first time and then YELLS....and leorio and kurapikas faces r so good 

also the butler guy unfortunately has a point, it isnt foolproof that gon is here Legit....but he IS let him see his tiny bf :( 

as ruth pointed out, the butler guy is reminiscent of kuro from one piece. same vibes 

maybe if leorio was jacked like he is in the manga/1999 anime he couldve opened the gate that first time around....Ls 

god i love this shows approach to Everything so far,....as ruth put it, half the time its like ‘oh wow they should do [x]/i wish theyd do [x] but ofc they wont cause its a shounen’ but then they DO do [x] and its like damn thats dope 

anyways i love how gon is increasingly approaching situations with his Plucky Shounen Protag Attitude in full swing, and he pretty much gets shot down every time. BUT his general determination to see killua bc killuas his FRIEND and hes gonna RESCUE HIM is still a good and pure motivating force 

like here, when hes climbing over the wall and hes like whatever i dont wanna have to deal w/being tested thats bullshit, i wanna see killua, my intentions are pure, im gonna try my luck with the dog....i was like ok yeah he’ll get over and like tame or defeat the dog and the guard will be suitably impressed bc nobodys ever done That before, and then gon will continue on to get killua 

but NOPE instead the guard calls him down and explains that gon Will Die if he tries that, and then the guard will die too for letting that happen. and gon is like oh shit my actions have consequences for people other than me, wow. 

and THEN the guard takes them in to meet the dog. and hot DAMN that is a scary creature. not even really a dog tbh. they did an excellent job making the dog Legit Scary and not just like, big and flashy looking....those eyes are so soulless, and the proportions are freaky 

and the guard says exactly what i was thinking - that gon would use his Country Boy Woodland Creature Skills to workaround the dog....but then the subversion - this creature is NOTHING like the woodland critters gon is probably used to dealing with. theres no way gon stood a chance here. the guard just saved him from a really unfortunate death 

i love all the Super Heavy Stuff in the servant house that seems so inconvenient vbhjdkfasjfld. also forgot to mention earlier but the guard guy being Absolutely Ripped was wild and kinda funny 

training montage! gon continues to be so cute. and i love so much how leorio and kurapika are like no, you rest, we’ll take care of this. good parents!!!!

and then!!!! they sync up and use the power of gay love to almost open the gate. but then gon uses the power of Improbable Shounen Protag Healing Speed to toss that arm sling off and help out

i feel like leorio was side-eyeing gon like w8 a sec u broke that arm like a few days ago that aint right.....

oh man i almost forgot abt that scene with the zoldyks torturing killua :( :( this poor kid he doesnt deserve that 

also mom zoldyck seems truly awful but i must say her aesthetic does fuck. the victorian-lookin outfit paired with the futuristic cyclops visor thing....excellent. also im betting this face bandages are from killua cutting her face 

this family is so fucked up hvbsjdhjfbakdfn

killua telling his mom that gon is definitely gonna make it there :’) hes got such unshakable faith in his bf thats so good.....

back w/the gang, and immediately they run into more trouble in the form of the young girl butler, whose name i dont know, but i love her....her design is SO good oh man. a non-caricature black person? who also isnt sexualized? in MY anime??????

 i love how gons approach to conflict is currently ‘let more powerful person beat me up for hours straight in hopes that they get tired or something idk bro’ like....i love him lol, is it in an effort to show how determined he is? he doesnt even try to dodge her blows or get around her....id be tryin to hop that fence lol 

oh shit the tiny zoldyk kid from earlier is spying on them....she was w/the mom so im sure thats not good

when he punches the rock part and it breaks....strong boiiii 

oh man that little flashback from when killua first came back and told her that he made a friend ;_; bruh 

i love butler girl :( she wants to let gon but knows it isnt allowed....and as soon as she starts to waver BAM here comes mom zoldyck JFC that was so sudden and jarring....im assuming butler girl isnt dead cause that would be lame and anticlimactic 

also IS THAT NEN??? NEN>>>??? NEN??? HM? NEN????????? 

im so annoying abt nen i need to make one of those ‘is this a pigeon?’ memes w/’is this nen?’ bc thats me anytime anything remotely weird happens lmao

i do think its rlly nen this time tho

anyways shit is wild, cant wait to meet the full zoldyck family 

PREDICTION CORNER: 

as i said above i doubt hisoka will show up now bc this arc is a lot shorter than i anticipated. also im doubting that illumis even gonna show up honestly 

i think we’re gonna have this OP for a while, as the part just at the end shows gon and hisoka fighting in what looks to be an arena, and ik the next arc is the heavens arena arc, which im assuming is the tournament arc....

also i have no idea what that weird building in the OP is but my guess is that its the building w/the heavens arena in it bc its tall and,,,,heaven 

i predict there wont be much fighting in this little arc bc how tf else is it so short. at this point i rlly think gon is just gonna grab killua and go lmao. im super curious abt how thats gonna go down, considering that killua is currently strung up just bc he wont apologize...so i cant imagine his family would just let him leave w/gon. i wonder if killua will fight them, or if gons determination will impress them and then theyll let killua go (doubt it)

thats basically it....we’ll see abt the next few eps holla

[caiuscassiuss]

Cohabitation (Opposites Attract AU! WinWin)

"i thought my roommate was murdered but i actually ended up dating him lol”

Description: an early bird and a night owl learn to co-habitate

masterlist || request

bulletpoint scenario

_______________________________________________________________________

the first thing you woke up to was Brahms’ Hungarian Dance in no.5

you looked at the time on ur phone; 5:30 AM

bitch fucking ass

you were very irritated, obviously, from being woken up way to early by your roommates classical music

Your roommate, Dong Sicheng, was a classical music major who loved chopin and apparently loved to be the bain of your existence by waking up 5:30 every fucking morning

how, you ask, did this happen?

STORY TIME

yeah it was the typical “i need an apartment, i see a cheap one near campus” college deal

you found the leasing through Johnny, you highschool friend, who said the cute chinese transfer student from shanghai needed a roommate

you were “okay, sure” but when you saw the rent price you quickly dialed him up because!!!! it was hella cheap!!! and you were broke as fuck!!!

you talked over the phone with the guy and he seemed nice enough and his slight accent was making you inwardly squeal at it’s cuteness

however, his early bird tendencies were not making you squeal in joy

his daily routine might’ve been fine for the average joe but you were a night owl who loved to sleep in late

Night Owl + Early Bird + Same Living Space = DISASTER

at first you just dealt with it

maybe he had an early class or something?

but as time went on you slowly grew more irritated

he woke you up early so when you went back to sleep, you ended up tossing and turning for 2 hours until getting up for class

and when you arrived in class, you were fatigued as hell

so you kind of um

decided to take vengeance

you decided that if he was allowed to play his goddamned conciertos you were allowed to turn on your trap music

at midnight

because you were a petty hoe okay

and you were afraid of confrontation so you decided little passive aggressive things would irk him in retaliation for your uncalled for early morning wakeups

this had been going on for weeks at this point, and it both resulted in you having eyebags the size of your college textbooks (and those are pretty large okay)

ye back to PRESENT DAY

you fumed quietly and ripped your bedsheets off

you stomped across the cold wood floors and flung open the door to the living area

“Sicheng!”

the tall boy turned around from the stove, dressed in a sweatshirt and jogging pants

“what?”

“can you turn off whatever violin shit this is? or at least turn down the volume?” you pouted and crossed your arms

he usually wide eyes narrowed and he put down his spatula

“I’ll do it whenever you turn off your shitty rap music at like 1 in the morning” he spat out and he, too, crossed his arms

you pursed your lips

rap music somehow made you understand international policy better, okay? and you just happened to study better late at night

it wasn’t your fault he couldn’t understand the blessed flow of Biggie

“the hell? it’s art, you moron-“

“more like trash”

“- and I’m not the one waking up with the fucking chickens in the morning!”

you two glared at each other

perhaps it was early morning grumpiness or a built up grudge or a combination of both both but you decided this had gone long enough

Winwin’s pretty face and broad shoulders weren’t going to save him this time!!1!11

“okay you know what? this has gone long enough. turn off the fucking stove and we are going to discuss this like the mature adults we are”

you stomped over to the counter and sat down on one of the stools and he turned off the stove flame

he, too, sat down in front of you

“this is clearly not working out and i think it’s safe to say that neither of us are going to move out” he drawled

“correct! 10 points to sicheng!” you sarcastically crowed

“for fuck’s sake shut up and at least try to be nice? i’m trying, okay!”

“fine” you pouted and rested your head on your palms

“i think we need to come up with a system before we start failing our classes- actually, just you, because I am stellar-“

“Winwin you better shut your ass up and get on with it” you narrowed your eyes at the boy

he rolled his eyes and stared straight at you

“lemme think”

you sat in silence for a few tense seconds as you both tried to think of something that could work

suddenly an idea popped into your head

“why don’t we just… turn down the volume of our music?”

DING DING DING dumb and dumber have just appeared!!!

wow you couldn’t believe you had just thought of this

damn you really were stupid

“… fine.”

you beamed and cheered

“BUT!”

you deflated

“that solves only like 60% of the problem. you stay up until like 1 am and i can’t sleep when i know someone is awake.”

“well that’s something you have to compromise bud, because i can’t sleep when someone is getting ready at 5 in the morning” you deadpan

“i think we’re just going have to be quieter then, is that fine?” win win asked, pursing his plump lips

damn he still looked good in a hoodie and sweatpants while you probably just looked homeless

“yeah. that’s okay.”

the next few days were actually pretty damn good

you could actually sleep!

in fact, you actually felt like you weren’t dying everyday!

in the few times you saw sicheng, he, too, didn’t look like he had 3 kids and was going through a mid-life crisis

it was a great improvement all in all

and you didn’t feel like you had to move out anymore

however one night something… shifted

you had just got home from your part time job at the local convenience store and you saw the lamp in the living room turned on

strange, because win win always turned off all the lights when he went to sleep

wait… WAS SICHENG MURDERED????

this is some creepy home invasion shit isn’t

this bitch is out

jk jk this bitch is poor and would probs live with a serial killer if it meant cheap rent

okay a bit extreme but you get the point

you step out of your shoes and creep into the living room

however, instead of seeing a dead sicheng lying on the floor

you saw a very much alive sicheng sleeping on the couch

with a book accidentally lying on the floor

you couldn’t help but awww bc he was so cute and innocent like this

unlike the snarky sicheng you often encountered

you decided to get a blanket from your room and layed it on top of him and adjusted his head so he wouldn’t have a stiff neck when he woke up

then you turned off the lamp and then went into your room to watch a vine compilation

next morning!!!

you woke up to a light drizzle outside your window

you then put on a sweatshirt and opened your door

you were suddenly assaulted by the smell of bacon

you frowned and saw on the counter of the kitchen was a plate of bacon and eggs with a cup of coffee next to it

there was no note or anything next to it but you knew it was from win win

mY uWuS aRe ExPlOdInG

the next few weeks these daily acts of kindness turned from unacknowledged to you two getting closer together

when you would come home late and happened to catch winwin reading, you two would sit on the couch and talk about your day and your favorite pieces of literature

when he would cook you breakfast he sometimes stayed and chatted with you at the counter about mutual friends and stuff like that

sicheng turned out not to be an asshole, as you initially thought 

he actually was pretty sweet and nice

he also loved harry potter, which probably earned him a gazillion brownie points in your book

soon enough casual goodbyes turned into hugs

living room talks turned into cafe hang outs

a snarky jabs turned into playful banter

your friends started to wonder if you two were dating

especially johnny, you always raised an eyebrow when you and sicheng would hug goodbye

sadly, you were not, but you kind’ve... wanted to?

he was basically the perfect boyfriend

yeah he had shitty taste in music and you hated how put together he was, but sicheng was a genuinely great guy

however, the more you pined over him, the more you realized how unattainable he was 

girls would always gather in a group in the university courtyard when he passed by and you heard he was number 1 in his class

unlike you, who was doing pretty average and the only things you attracted was lint

one day you two were walking through the uni grounds, a cup of coffee in both of your hands from the cafe down the street

“uh, y/n... i got something to tell you.” sicheng whispered

you looked up at him

“what?”

he smiled down at you and booped your nose

“hey! what was that for?” you shouted and crossed your arms

“ur just so cute!” he said and pinched your cheeks

you slapped his hands away and you both laughed

“no, but for real, what did you want to say to me?” you asked while resting your head on the side of his arm

he was silent for a few moments until he led you to a bench

you two sat side by side, him looking off into the distance and you utterly confused as fuck

wait shit waS HE GOING TO MOVE OUT????

alarm bells started whirring inside your head as your thoughts raced

“y/n, you have really shitty music taste and are utterly disorganized as hell...” he started off

what the fuck

“... but i really like you and i want you to be my girlfriend.” 

“wait so you aren’t moving out???” you blurted out

winwin gives you a funny look

“no? y/n i just fucking confessed to you, does it look like im moving out?” 

“i don’t know!” 

you were flustered as hell because sicheng??? confessing??? to you???what a mindfuck

winwin gives another look

“Well?”

“oh yeah, i really like you alot too, and i, uh, would love to be your girlfriend” you somehow managed to get out, and looked down to your coffee cup, which was clenched tightly in your hands

“great” and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer

he kissed the top of your head as you settled into his chest

Bonus

“you two?? are together???” johnny asked, clearly confused as hell at this recent development

“yeah?” you glanced at winwin and he just smiled and squeezed your intertwined hands tighter

“holy shit i can’t believe this happened! y/n... you’re like the latest night owl i know and winwin! you’re like... the earliest early bird on the whole fucking campus!” johnny threw his hands up, nearly tossing his phone also

“and?” sicheng asked

“that just... doesn’t add up!” your mutual friend sputtered

“okay then what are you? night owl or early bird?” you asked

johnny finally seemed to snap out his daze and adapted a solemn look on his face

“i am not an early bird nor a night owl.”

“I am some form of permanently exhausted pigeon.”

[parkandzhong]

🎪🎡🎢 ---- Yet Another Untitled Anon

(Chensung Anon back at it again with no solid plot and an open ending)

Chenle and Jisung take up an interest in dying their hair after Mark goes blonde and Donghyuck dyes his hair red. They talk about it constantly, chatting about which hair colors they’d like and how it unfair that even goody two shoes Renjun got to dye his hair as well. When Jeno bleaches his hair and Jaemin also goes light brown, Chenle and Jisung are starting to feel the limitations of being younger than their entire friend group.

All of their friends have jobs, and as soon as their parents agree to let them dye their hair using their own money, they can go and get it done the next day. Even though Chenle is rich, his mom scolds him when he asks about it.

“You’re 15, what do you need to be dying your hair for?”

“Mom! Everyone else has their hair dyed but me and Jisung! Don’t you think I’d look nice with a different hair color??”

“How fair would it be to Jisung if you dyed your hair and he couldn’t?”

“Oh mom, come on!!”

Jisung’s faced with the same argument, with a “even if I let you, I don’t have the money to bleach and dye your hair!!” thrown in for good measure.

“It’s not fair,” Chenle whines, tossing a rock into the lake. “Everybody else is allowed to dye their hair but us!!”

They argue with their parents for two months, and Renjun dyes his hair again and so does Mark. Eventually, their mothers start to get tired of their whining and they make a bet with them. If Chenle and Jisung can make the honor roll at the end of the semester, they can dye their hair. So they work their asses off and Jisung actually studies for once and their hangouts turn into study sessions. Somehow they make the honor roll. And even though Jisung’s mom is apprehensive, she keeps her promise and Chensung get an appointment to get their hair dyed.

The bleach smells bad and they spend 2 days getting their hair dyed. It’s worth it when Jisung gets to see Chenle with purple hair. Jisung has blue hair and his mom is obviously not happy with the color. But a bet was a bet so she just glares at him and lets him keep it.

Jisung and Chenle become the talk of the school and a bunch of kids come up to them talking about their hair colors. Jisung gets shy and flustered so Chenle takes charge and charms the girls who come up to them to flirt. He always turns around and laughs for a while afterwards.

“How do they have no idea that I’m gay?? They saw a guy with purple hair and they thought he was straight…..”

Jisung keeps quiet. Mostly because he’s looking at said guy (Chenle) with purple hair and thinking about how not straight he is. Instead he ruffles his blue hair and says:

“Maybe they want to date you for popularity.”

“Then they should date you. You’re the one on the soccer team. They’d have no luck with me.”

“Chenle, I’m also gay.”

“They don’t know that!! I thought girls liked dating the sports guys to get popular!”

“Are we gonna stand here talking about girls like a couple of straight guys or are we going to go get lunch?” Jisung asks. “Because I’m having a gay crisis and I need to hear about whatever drama Hyuck has gotten himself into this week to keep me sane and soothe my soul.”

Chenle cackles and follows behind him.

“That was the gayest fucking thing I’ve ever heard and we’ve heard a lot about what Jaemin gets up to.”

 -

The popularity only increases at every soccer game Jisung plays and every dance competition he does. Even girls from the opposing team’s audience come to talk to him and try to get his number. He feels awkward, and he doesn’t even feel flattered because he’s not attracted to any girl ever. Chenle thinks their sudden popularity with girls is hilarious. Jisung’s not so sure he likes having blue hair anymore, but it takes a few months for his hair to fade and his roots to grow back. He tries to hide the hair, but the teachers force him to remove his hats and he just has to deal with it. He wonders why the girls are so persistent when none of them have gotten a positive response from him.  

“Can I dye it again?” he asks his mother at dinner one night.

“Jisung—”

“My roots are showing and the hair dye is faded. Can I just go blonde instead?”

Chenle’s in China with his parents on a business trip the weekend Jisung’s mom takes him to get his hair bleached and dyed blonde. He avoids skyping Chenle and showing his new hair, and for some reason Chenle only phone calls him too.

“Hey, uh, I kinda have something to show you when you get back from the airport,” Chenle says on the phone.

Jisung hears him get in the car on the other end of the phone.

“I was going to say the same thing,” Jisung says.

When they meet each other at Jisung’s apartment as soon as Chenle gets back from the airport, Jisung’s excited. It’s only been 5 days, but he’s really missed Chenle and he’s excited to show off his new hair to his best friend. So when they finally come face to face again and Chenle’s just staring blankly at him, he feels self conscious. He catches sight of Chenle’s hair and he laughs. Chenle doesn’t move.

“We both dyed our hair blonde while you were in China!” Jisung laughs.

Jisung clears his throat and Chenle finally unfreezes.

“Wanna go hang out with Donghyuck?”

“Why so suddenly?”

“I’m having a gay crisis,” Jisung admits. (bc of Chenle but that’s not important)

“What is it with you going to Hyuck when you’re having a gay crisis?” Chenle asks.

“He’s already a gay disaster so he makes me feel like more of a contained gay disaster.”

“God do you have a crush on somebody that you don’t want to tell me about or something?”

“No,” Jisung lies, panicked. “He’s been telling me about his crush.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Hyuck talks his ear off about Mark all the time. In turn, though, he talks about Chenle and how he thinks he might be developing a crush on his best friend. And once Chenle had dyed his hair purple it just kicked into overdrive. Chenle’s a blonde now, and Jisung’s having a hard time refraining from having a mental breakdown over how good it looks. (Chenle’s thinking the same thing, u moron)

-

Chenle somehow manages to look cuter as a blonde and Jisung somehow realizes that he is developing a small crush on Chenle. He’s been willing it to go away, hoping that it was just a momentary thing brought on by doing something fun together like dying their hair. When they started this whole hair dye thing he didn’t expect it to launch him into the gay void. He just wanted a fun hair color and a fun thing to do with Chenle.

-

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO PUSH ME IN,” Chenle yells as Jisung pulls him out of the lake.

“I didn’t mean to!!”

Chenle looks like a drowned kitten as he glares at Jisung. His shoes squelch as they walk on the path and Jisung worries his lip between his teeth, trying to figure out a solution.

“OH! I still have my soccer practice clothes!”

“YOU SWEAT IN THOSE,” Chenle shouts.

“Practice got cancelled, they’re clean.”

“I CAN’T JUST CHANGE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PARK!”

They have to walk for 5 minutes as Chenle complains and shivers in the cool April air to find a place for him to change. They finally find a bathroom and Jisung hands off his backpack to the soaking wet Chenle. Chenle’s still fuming from being almost drowned, so Jisung just sings to himself as Chenle changes clothes.

“I look stupid,” Chenle says.

Jisung freezes with a slight blush. His mind is screaming (mostly just FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK) as he watches Chenle flap his new sweater paws at him. He’s wearing Jisung’s black sweater and black sweatpants. They’re a little too big for him, and Jisung’s having a fucking gay crisis again. He’s not even having a gay crisis anymore, he’s just been drop kicked into the gay void of falling in love with his best friend. All of the feelings Jisung has been denying come rushing at him. His legs start to shake a little as he realizes how fuck he is.

He could deny his feelings when Chenle looked a lot like the little kid he met on the playground one day. But after they dyed their hair together he realizes how cute Chenle is and once Chenle becomes a blonde and wears his clothes while looking like a drowned kitten.

Chenle’s face looks neutral as he looks expectantly at Jisung.

“We should put my wet clothes in a bag,” he says simply.

“Yeah,” Jisung croaks. “That’s a good idea.”

~

LISTEN OKAY I HAD MY FIRST GAY AWAKENING WHEN I WAS GETTING MY HAIR CUT BY A NEW STYLIST AND SHE LEANED DOWN AND 12 YEAR OLD ME SAW ANOTHER GIRLS BOOBS (EVEN IN A BRA) AND MY BRAIN SHORT CIRCUITED OKAY SO HAIR DYE MAKES ME REMEMBER THAT SO THANK YOU FOR THIS