#and there's a fucking cop outside. god fucking damn it.

[monotonykillsartist]

(Note this all before anyone outside of Fawcett knows who Billy batson is)

So Billy was in gotham for a simple mission, getting a magical herb that was local to Gotham. Obviously he had to come as Billy Batson and not as Captian Marvel cause he didn't want to get caught by batman. He was walking around a for a while before he spotted some of the herbs growing by an alleyway, with a grin he ran over. The sooner he got what he needed the sooner he could get out.

Unfortunately nothing in life could be that easy. In the middle of the alley there was a gun, with a grimce he picked it up. As he was contemplating how to properly throw away a gun, does it get recycled it's metal right? Or does it get thrown in the regular trash bin?

An ommunous cackling sound starts coming from the other side of the alley way and a shadow figure stands watching him. A trash can gets knocked over startling him and he accidentally pulls the trigger the figure drops, the laughter remains. Billy drops the gun and runs toward the figure with whispered profanity spilling from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident" in rushes in a panic trying to stop the bleeding but the man dressed as a clown stops laughing and still a wide smile on his face.

"HELP!! SOMEBODY PLEsse" his voice wavers he's still putting pressure on the bullet wound. A thud drops down behind him. "It was an accident, I don't, I think" he sniffles "I killed him" he whispers out.

He turns and looks at who he persums is batman behind him and instead finds a man stock still with red metal helmet with glowing eyes. He shivers, red hood, he's not opposed to killing the bad guys like batman.

"I swear it was an accident I didn't- I wouldn't- ...I did it tho I killed him" Billy looked away from red hood and back at the man he killed, he was dressed as a clown gods was he going to a birthday party did he not only kills someone but also ruin another kids party. He is the worst.

"You-" a shaky voice starts hesitated for a second before continuing, "fuck you killed the Joker, that's-" he breaks off into a wet sounding laugh. Billy tenses shit did this guy know this clown was it for his kids birthday.

"It's fine kid your all good. I can take care of it from here. Don't play with guns, tho got it" Red hood says his voice sounding oddly warm.

\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\

(So I had a couple ideas for this same premise, Billy accidentally or sometimes "accidentally shooting and killing the Joker so here's another route this could have taken)

"HELP!! SOMEBODY PLEsse" his voice wavers he's still putting pressure on the bullet wound. A thud drops down behind him. "It was an accident, I don't, I think" he sniffles "I killed him" he whispers out.

"Fuuuuccccckkkk did that kid kill the joker!" A baffled voice asks. Billy turns to see two cops and picks his lips nervously.

"Hey kid common up back away from him, Jim watch the kids, could be a set up" Billy swallow and walks over to the cop who remained behind eyes trained on his partner one hand ready to radio for help the other hovering over his holster.

"Shit, well I'll be damned. The kid got a lucky shot." The cop who approached the body said with a grin after checking for a pulse. "Officer Jackson speaking, the jokers dead" he spoke into his radio.

"Are you sure?" A voice asked over the radio in disbelief "pretty sure, bullet through the heart would have died almost instantly no pulse kicked him even no response, sucker's dead as a door knob" the office replied relief and joy in his voice.

"Aye Jim take the kid out for dinner kid deserves it, wait yold on" officer Jackson says pulling out his wallet pulls out 4 20s and a couple tens. "Here kid take this, all ongot on me right now but I feel like I gotta give you something not enough but all I got on me"

\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\

(Or if it does end up going to court)

Billy on the stand: I did it I killed.

Lawyer: please don't listen to my client he is in shock he had a recent encounter with the Joker

Judge nodding along: strick that from the record and disregard that statement

Jury after seeing a grainy video of Billy shooting the joker: he is guilt free let the child go and he should be given a sum of money for the court wasting his time

**************

The watchtower

Captian marvel: hey bats I hope you had a good birthday

Batman grunt

Billy as Cap grins what do you get for a man who can have buy or do anything something he can't buy or do himself. Like kill his sons killer. Pss he's been in several wars and has a license to kill what one more body to the count. He does notice that batman looks alot less stress then he usually does. Best birthday present ever.

[roanniom]

hi issa! i hope all is well and im so glad you’re back! you are literally one of the best writers ever (and literally my favorite person who writes for eddie) ! i hope you’re day is going good 💛

i would love to request cute; needy eddie phone call (you can make it spicy if you want), maybe the reader went on a girls trip and the reader calls him once at the hotel and he is just miserable 😩

Hi there anon! I'm doing okay, but writing is making everything better. Super happy to do this request.

On the Line

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation

"Eddie. I've been gone for half a day. I was literally with you this morning." You try to make your voice sound reproachful, but your smile cannot be hidden. You're in your hotel room getting ready to go down for dinner with your friends.

"I knowwww, don't remind me. It has been AGONY!"

You hear a muted thump which you imagine to be Eddie throwing himself on his couch near the landline.

"Well what are you doing to distract yourself from this agony?" you ask with amusement.

"I tried touching myself, but I'll be honest, it's more effective now that I can hear your voice, babe."

"EDDIE MUNSON!"

"Whaaaat? What else is there to do?"

"I don't know. Go outside? Maybe touch some grass, you fucking horn dog," you laugh, laying back on the hotel bed.

"I can't exactly go jerk off on the grass, Mrs. Jenkins said she'd call the cops if she ever caught me doing that again - ,"

"Eddie. I will smack you."

"Ugh, don't make promises you can't keep. What do you think I've been imagining?"

You slap an exasperated hand over your face and Eddie moans.

"What was that? Smacking your own ass to give me some auditory stimulation, princess? Do it again!"

"No, that was me covering my eyes from the shame of having such a perverted boyfriend."

"Don't pretend you aren't just as perverted, sweetheart. Even Mrs. Jenkins knows, with how loud you usually are - ,"

"Edward. Munson."

"Mmmm yeah. Say my name, baby."

You can't help but dissolve into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

"Are you actually touching yourself right now?"

"Think about that question for a second. Really let that simmer for me."

Suddenly you hear the most obscene, wet squelching coming from the phone. It's so sudden and so rapid that you pull the phone away from your ear for a second. Clearly Eddie had put the receiver down where he was...taking care of himself.

"Eddie..." you say, but this time it is less reproachful and more breathless.

"Princess." His voice is less humorous now. A little deeper. A little scratchy.

"I have to go in a few minutes..." you trail off wistfully. You've begun to tune into Eddie's more labored breathing.

"Sure about that?"

His voice is gruff. You want to laugh but suddenly find that you can't.

"You know I can still smell your perfume in this fucking trailer, right? Like a god damn temptress. Why would you do that to me, honey?"

The phone is clearly by his lips as you can hear him loud and clear. But similarly loud and clear is the sound of his hand on his cock. Now moving furiously.

But you're not the only one hearing new things.

"I can hear you breathing heavier, baby." Eddie says it conspiratorially. There is the distinct sound of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah well you're turning me on. I'm only fricken human, you know."

"No. I don't know that. Pretty sure you're a goddess." Eddie finishes his statement with a groan. "So what are you wearing...my goddess."

You clutch the phone to your ear and look down at your outfit.

"Well, we're all going out tonight so I'm wearing that sparkly top that you said was too sexy for The Hideout."

"Are you fucking with me right now, sweetheart?" Eddie chokes out. You imagine that he's gripping himself, trying not to cum at the mere image of you in the revealing garment. "You mean to tell me...we've been talking all this time and your tits have just been...out?"

"I'm not naked, Eddie. It's just low cut," you argue, but your body begins to heat up all the same.

"Low cut, huh?" he asks gruffly. "Why don't you reach into that low cut top and touch yourself for me then."

"Oh...kay." You don't even fight him. Your hand cups your breast under the fabric.

"Make sure to pinch and twist your nipples a little. For me."

As if pleasuring yourself will inherently bring him physical pleasure. Which you guess it does, because when you inhale sharply at the feeling, Eddie lets out a moan. You hesitate for a second.

"Is Wayne - ,"

"At work. Don't bring up that old man when I'm so close to cumming." Eddie barks with frustration. You release a breathy chuckle.

"You're already close?"

"Babe. I've been touching myself for hours. I've been on the edge this whole conversation."

"Yeah?" you ask, egging him on.

"Yeah, baby. I'm about to blow hearing your sweet voice."

"Well....you should know that I'm wet." You're being honest. The idea of having to go downstairs in a few minutes is becoming less appealing by the second.

"Oh fuck."

"Yeah. I really want to touch myself, baby."

"Do it." Eddie practically orders.

"I can't," you say, though one of your hands does begin to slide south, between your breasts, down the plane of your stomach, to cup yourself beneath your skirt. You keep the phone cradled between your ear and your shoulder so you can keep one hand on your breast, fingers tweaking your nipple.

"I need you, baby." It comes out more submissive than his previously demanding tone. You lower your voice to match.

"I know, Eddie. Can you cum for me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? You'll cum for me?" You hear his breathing pick up. From the sound of his stroking, he's right there. You rub your palm over your clothed pussy, feeling your clit ache with need.

"Fuck. Yeah I'll...fuck."

"That's it baby, cum for me."

The gasping and sputtering on the other side of the phone overwhelms you and you find yourself grinding against your hand in vain. You won't be able to take care of yourself. Not yet at least. But you know that when you get back to your hotel room later tonight, one of those pillows are really in for it.

"Fuuuck, princess."

"That good, huh?" you ask, cheekily.

"Don't act all proud of yourself," Eddie admonishes playfully. "There's nobody here to clean me up."

Your heart (and pussy) pound at the reference to the way you usually lick up the evidence of his pleasure.

"I'll be back before you know it, handsome."

Eddie sighs.

"You have to go now, don't you." It isn't a question. You laugh.

"I had to go fifteen minutes ago. But I guess you had to cum first."

~*~

--

---

--

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what your favorite part was!

[deadghosy]

Slytherins boys during 4th of July with their American! Reader

Warning: of course this is modern era‼️���

Ft. The riddles, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire

TOM RIDDLE

Your dark aesthetic of an English boyfriend is staying his ass inside 😭 he’s not coming out!!

He DOESNT fuck with them bugs or those loud fireworks…yes he moved to America for you. As much as he loves you. Hell no.

He’s in the shared room with you as he read a book, listening to crime documentary and podcasts. Or he’s just cuddling with you.

If you ever did drag him out to pop fireworks wit you, he may or may not pop them at his brother if mattheo comes to visit.

“Y/N!! GET YOUR MAN!!” Mattheo says running from Tom who had a evil grin on his face. Chasing after Mattheo with a sparkler.

you just stood there waving your sparkler around giggling.

at least he's having fun!

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Mattheo is popping fireworks like a god damn maniac…please control him…

Literally bought an illegal firework and lit it outside…PLEASE get your unhinged man or else people are gonna call the cops on him.

STOP CAUSE HE’S DEFINITELY THE TYPE TO THROW POPPERS AT THE NEIGHBORHOOD KIDS 😭😭

A MENCE TO THE STREETS AND YOU!! YOU ARE NOT SAFE!!

Chaotic just like his damn brother with that evil ass grin. He’s literally the king of being an asshole.

But if you don’t like fireworks, don’t worry…he’s got you bbg. He’s a softie for you anyways.

He’s literally probably buying noise canceling headphones so you can relax with him.

He’s a cutie patootie under all that gremlin energy he’s got 

DRACO MALFOY

This sassy ass man…this bbg dude..is probably staying his ass inside. I’m sorry, but he’s probably confused on why “American’s” celebrate such a day even if you educate him about it.

At least you grill him food and still love him.

That’s all it matters

BLAISE ZABINI

He’s already starting bullshit if you don’t like popping fireworks cause of how loud they are.

If you’re asleep, he’s literally like playing loud ass firework sounds or he is outside popping them loud ass works 😭😭

Honestly I do picture American! Reader just grilling while Blaise is getting ready to pop these babies.

But since I headcannon this Slytherin boy to be a romantic, he’s taking you to a firework show. He loves you like that.

Putting the blanket below you guys, cuddling you with that charming smile of his.

It’s just perfect!

Best 4th of July ever.

THEODORE NOTT

Get ready to wake to this man cooking at 4 am so you can eat.

He knows you love to eat you beautiful foodie, so he’s making you some food.

Watches the fireworks from inside and then goes out to pop his own

He’s a romantic as well, so he might just take you out for a firework show

He loves you like that.

And if you don’t like fireworks, don’t worry you two can just enjoy the fireworks inside

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

He’s the type of boyfriend to try and grill for you only to fail and need assistance. 😭😭

Literally though he will try again only to succeed with your help tactics and then he will be so proud!

Pops small fireworks with you. He doesn’t pop big ones as he did look into the holiday to see so much accidents with big fireworks.

“Enz, honey.. it’s okay…” you say holding up a pack of big fireworks. Lorenzo looked nervous as he took the fireworks from your hold. “Sorry love..but what if an explosion hits you?”

Please calm your man down before he packs it up makes you two just watch movies instead of popping fireworks.

End of the night and day, he loves the food a little bit.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Endless Road

This was written for @impala-dreamer 's Through His Eyes - A Dean Winchester Writing Challenge. Thanks, Beka! The prompt (in bold in the fic) was the quote "Goddamn it, you need to hear me!"

Pairing: Dean x Reader, established relationship

Word Count: 2060

Warnings: Angst, Dean going out of his mind, maybe a little hurt/comfort

Impala dividers by @firefly-graphics

We’re flying low, the trees just look like a green blur outside the windows, and I’m just hoping the cops are busy with something besides speed traps today. All I can think about is getting there faster. I keep thinking there had to be something I could have said that would have stopped her, but fuck, I know better.

She’s just as stubborn as I am.

We just finished up a case in Hawthorne, Nevada – and I was thinking, hey, not too far to Reno. Maybe a mini-vacation before we head home. Then my phone rang.

“Hey, Dean!”

“Hey, sweetheart – on your way home?” She’s been in Greenville, North Carolina, visiting her sister, and it’s been way too fucking long.

“God, I’ve missed you, baby.” Her voice warms me all the way up. “Can’t wait to see you. But – and don’t get mad – I ran into a little snag on the road.”

“What kind of snag? Why would I be mad?”

“Kind of ran into a case.”

Okay, now I was mad. “Damn it, you promised no hunting on your own.”

“I know, I know – but how can I not do something, Dean?” I’m grinding my teeth, trying to be patient and let her finish, but I’m about to snap off a molar or something. “Dean, my sister’s friend – her daughter went missing. And I started checking things out – I’m pretty sure it’s a djinn.”

“Jesus Christ, you know how dangerous it is messing with a djinn without backup! You can’t – look, listen, we just finished up here, we’ll hit the road and go in and take care of that thing together, okay?”

“Dean, you’re clear across the country from me.”

“I don’t care. You need to wait for us. Promise me you’ll wait.”

“She could be dying in there.”

“So you already know where they are?”

“Yeah. I do. I’ve been careful, but Dean…”

“No! Goddamn it! Promise me you’ll wait, babe. Please.” Sometimes ‘please’ works. Not usually.

I could hear her breathing on the other end, probably trying to think of some way to tell me no that wouldn’t make me explode.

“Dean – I know you’re worried, but don’t be. I’ve been hunting for a long time, I can handle it. You’re two days away, baby, and that girl might not have that long.”

“Son of a bitch.” At least I didn’t yell. “I don’t like it. You should have backup, it’s too fucking dangerous. Is there anybody out there? Hunters?”

“Not that I know. Dean, I know you’re pissed and I know you’re worried, but I’ve gotta do this. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you later.”

“Sweetheart, wait… Hey! Damn it!” She’d already hung up, and I knew she wouldn’t answer if I called her back to try and talk her out of it.

So here we are. I’m driving like a fucking idiot because I’m going out of my mind. I need to be there now. Fuck, that’s it, I’m never letting her go anywhere alone again, I should have known she’d find something to hunt, that fucking instinct of hers…

Sam keeps offering to drive, but if I’m not doing that then I’m going insane. The only thing I’ve heard from her since that phone call is a text with the coordinates and a message – ‘I know you’re driving like a maniac trying to get here, please be careful and don’t worry.’ Yeah, like that’s happening.

I can’t stop thinking about the djinn I’ve dealt with, how close I came… Fuck. I can’t. I can’t lose her. I never thought – never – that I’d find somebody like her. Sometimes it’s almost like we’re one person, say the same things at the same time, laugh at the same stupid shit. She knows everything about me. Everything. The only person besides Sammy that really knows me. That I can depend on.

I fucking need her.

Shit, it feels like something’s trying to claw its way out of my chest right now. What if we’re too late? What if…”

“Dean? You okay?” Sam’s voice interrupts my doom spiral.

“I’m fine.”

“Want me to try and call her again?”

I nod my head, biting down hard on my lip to try and get back in control. Can’t afford to lose it right now, gotta focus, stay on the road, get there as fast as we can.

“No answer. Straight to voice mail.”

I nod. I don’t want to say it out loud, but I can’t help it. “Sammy, what if…”

“Don’t even think it, Dean. She’s gonna be fine. We have to believe she’s gonna be fine.”

I nod again. I’m trying like hell to believe. But that monster inside my chest is telling me there’s something wrong, and I’m having a real hard time keeping my shit together.

Endless road. Feels like one of those fucking nightmares where you’re running but you’re not getting anywhere. Every once in a while Sam bugs me about letting him drive so I can get some sleep, but I mostly just ignore him, or tell him I’m fine.

I’m not fine. I turn the radio on for a while, until I can’t stand the music mixed in with the noise in my head, so I turn it off again. Until the quiet gets to me, then I turn it back on again. Endless thoughts about what we might find when we finally get there, to go along with the endless driving down the endless highway.

Sam finally bitches at me enough that I agree to let him drive for a while. I probably won’t be able to sleep anyway, but at least he’ll quit nagging. I slouch down in the passenger seat, closing my eyes even though I know it’s hopeless.

Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a cold sweat, my heart is pounding. “Dean, you okay?” Sam asks, and I nod after a minute.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He clears his throat. Here we go again with the positive thoughts. “You know she’s a good hunter, Dean. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Yep. And I’m done. “You keep saying that, Sam. Over and over. But if she’s fine, why haven’t we heard from her? She’s not answering her phone. If she broke it, or lost it, she’d get another one and let us know. She’s either hurt, or that djinn has her, or…” I can’t say it out loud, but it’s screaming in my head – ‘or she’s dead.’ But it’s not his fault, he’s just trying to help, so I take a breath and try to calm down. “Sorry, Sammy. I just… How much farther?”

“We’re about five hours away, I think.”

“Pull over at that station, I’m gonna get some coffee, and I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

He looks at me for a second, then finally nods. “Okay.”

We finally drive through the small town close to the coordinates she sent, and it feels like everything inside me is vibrating. I’m holding on to the steering wheel so hard I’m not sure I’ll be able to let go when we get there.

Sam gives me directions, turn left here, right there, 2 more miles and finally – finally – we’re pulling up to an old abandoned building, looks like it used to sell farm equipment or something. I’m out of the car almost before it’s completely stopped, heading for the trunk, the lamb’s blood and the knives so we can kill this fucker and find her.

She has to be alive.

Sun’s going down, it’s all shadows and dim light as we go inside, quiet, adrenaline has me so alert I don’t even think I’m blinking. We go down a dark hallway and into the main room, junk sitting everywhere, but we make our way around, scanning every inch for the djinn. I step around a pile of boxes, Sam goes a little farther ahead to come in a different way, and I see a familiar sight, like stepping back into one of my nightmares.

There’s a girl strung up by her wrists not ten feet in front of me, looks like she’s about 16 or so. Just as I get close to her, I hear a commotion and then Sam busts into the room, wrestling with that glowing blue sonofabitch. I tear ass over there, and we all go down in a pile, but he’s not strong enough to fight both of us at once. Sam drives that knife right into its heart, gives it a twist and sends it to Purgatory. Hopefully that was the only one – they’re usually loners, but we need to be careful.

I send Sam over to where I saw the girl, and I pull out my flashlight, start looking. There are a couple of other bodies hanging, but they’re long gone. I’m starting to panic, but then I move behind another pile of boxes and there she is.

I run over there, saying her name over and over again, begging her to wake up. I lift her off off the hook she’s hanging from, cut the ropes and go down to my knees with her in my lap while I carefully pull that fucking needle out of her neck. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta wake up for me.” She’s breathing, she has a pulse, but she’s still unconscious, and I’m fucking scared.

My hands are shaking so bad, but I try to get her hair out of her face, lift her eyelids and look, but her eyes are rolled back and her mouth is dropped open. She probably put up a fight – of course she did, and that motherfucker probably gave her an extra strong dose to knock her out.

I keep talking to her, patting her face, and I finally lose it. “Goddamn it, you need to hear me! Come on, baby – fucking WAKE UP!” I’m holding her by her shoulders and shaking her, and she finally tries to open her eyes. “Hey, sweetheart – yeah, that’s it, come on, open your eyes for me. Jesus, baby, come on.”

“Dean?” She’s trying like hell to keep her eyes open, still limp in my arms. “Where – where are the kids?”

Fuck. “Hey, sweetheart, come on, open your eyes and come back to me. Look at me, baby.”

She slowly tips her head back and looks up into my face, it takes her a minute, but finally she’s actually looking at me. “Dean? What happened?”

I can’t help it, I just wrap my arms around her and pull her up into my chest and hold her. I don’t ever fucking want to let go, and I’m trying not to cry like a fucking kid. “Goddamnit, baby, you scared the shit out of me.”

Sam walks up just then. “Dean?” I can tell he’s worried, scared I’m just sitting there holding your body.

“She’s okay, Sammy. She’s okay.” I look up at him, and he lets out a sigh of relief, a half-tearful smile on his face.

“We should get her to the car. I have that girl in the back seat, she’s barely awake, I think we should get her to a hospital. We should get them both to a hospital.”

I nod, and manage to stumble my way to my feet with her in my arms. “I can walk, I’m okay,” she mumbles, and I can’t help but laugh a little.

“Maybe after we get you checked out.”

After checking that young girl in at the hospital with a bullshit story about a kidnapping, escape, and Sam and I rescuing them from a road ditch, we managed to get out of there before the cops came in, and headed down the road. I let Sam drive and sat in the back seat with her still in my arms. “Maybe we should get a room for the night, let you get some sleep?” I asked her, but she shook her head.

“I just wanna go home. Can we just go home?”

Sam smiled at me in the rear view and nodded, and I gave her a squeeze. “Okay, baby. We’ll go home.” We stretched out on the back seat, her laying halfway on top of me, my arms wrapped around her tight.

I’m not gonna be letting go any time soon.

Tag List #1:

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[multiheadcanons]

OUTFITS I LOVE TO IMAGINE THE MERCS IN

scout: i’m gonna qualify this with i don’t even twinkify scout like that; but the idea of him in those whorish 13-15 inch inseam shorts for men is so delectable to me, shirt optional. i want to see his thighs tense as his feet hit the pavement and he propels himself forward. i want to see every muscle flex and contract as he breaks people’s ankles on the field. i need it so bad. i need more dynamic scout art.

soldier: soldier is so batshit that i just want him in military blues so he feels good about himself and the work he did that nobody asked him to do. but i like thinking of soldier in anything even remotely formal because it's so unlike him to wear. and also because the idea of him wearing something he is notably uncomfortable in and then shit hitting the fan and him tearing it off, becoming more comfortable and in that same breath an actual danger in his immediate surroundings is so... mm. love that goofy american.

pyro: i'll imagine pyro in anything because i haven't actually come to a conclusion on who or what pyro is to me, personally, so my go-to when i'm thinking about pyro outside of the suit and mask is just another full-body suit that covers their face. but the second pyro realizes that not every suit can resist flame they would probably go straight back to their own suit. but i think we could probably all convince pyro to get into one of those inflatable t-rex costumes. for a moment, anyway.

demo: if you see any fanart of demo in a kilt know i've liquified it and injected it directly into my veins. any character in their cultural clothes is so good to me, i just want to gobble it up. but especially tavish. a kilt, a simple turtleneck, one of those droopy fucking hats... demo pleasepleaseplease-- imagining demo in anything is always a tasty mental trip to go on. i just know he makes any and everything look good and artists solidify that every time i browse the demoman tag. especially when they give demo different hairstyles. cornrow demoman... loc demoman... afro demoman... the possibilities are endless. please play with demo's hair.

heavy: put him in a white turtleneck. bright white. pressed. well cared for, but he's owned it for a while. it's loose, it just frames his jaw, makes his head stand out. now put a sweater on top of it. deep, dark, bloody maroon. wool blend. thick. thick enough to keep him warm, just enough to moisten his skin. not quite enough to make him drip sweat, but enough to keep him glistening with the additional layers. enough to get the underlying scent of his sweat when you're close enough. let the collar hug his neck. like he doesn't wear it enough to truly stretch it out, so it still hugs his body. roll. the sleeves. up. to. the elbow. perfect cuffs. not a single wrinkle. tuck it in to a pair of tailored black slacks. freshly pressed. and a set of polished, black leather dress shoes. unscuffed. now put a bow on him so i can unwrap it.

engineer: for a moment i considered if this was a cop out, but i don’t think it is anymore. i want him in the world’s most frayed jeans and a tight fitting t shirt of any color and some god. damn. cowboy boots. i want him covered in dirt and grease and sweat. i want the threads of the denim to be holding on by the lord’s grace and a daily prayer. i want to see his boxers through the ass pockets. goggles optional, player’s choice of head covering.

medic: nothing but a smile. a towel. a blanket, maybe. okay i’ll stop being a freak. it’s so hard for me to really imagine the doctor in anything but his work uniform. from there i am literally just peeling off the layers with a very absent smile plastered on my face. i am gone. my favorite part of the process is when i get to his undershirt, past the button up, and his pants and his boots. like woah… save some hoes for the rest of us, doc… out here showing all that… slut. i want you so bad.

sniper: mick. mick. look at me. look at me, okay? relax. it’s not gonna be a big change. promise. promise promise promise. close your eyes, okay? we’re gonna take the hat off. nonononono mick mick mick mick. buddy. buddy. it’s okay. this is not permanent. and this is the only change, okay? and maybe get your huntsman, it’ll tie the look together. like the doctor, it is hard to imagine snipes in anything but his work uniform, but the only difference is we take the hat away and replace it with a rich, chocolate brown hooded cloak. it could be a full length cloak, a tea length or mid length cloak, that ends by his shirt hem, or like a little shoulder shrug for the summer. he’d probably keep the hood up if it’s a light enough fabric. make him look like a real hunter. embroidered leaves and birds as holes are worn in the fabric. also done in threads of different shades of brown. i’ll let him keep the aviators. i’m feeling nice today.

spy: unlike the rest of his support teammates, i imagine spy in pretty much any and everything! spy is pretty enough that he can easily put on anything and make it look good; but i particularly like to imagine him in, frankly, whatever i have on for the day. i think my favorite outfit i wore that i telepathically projected onto him was a sleeveless turtleneck with some burnt orange slacks and these odd cognac dress shoes i have that have cut outs on the side. i just think he’d eat those shoes up. but i think he’d probably wear that whole outfit better than i did.

[worldlxvlys]

FOR THE DWB W MATT PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE DO A FIC WHERE HE COMES OVER N THE GUY IS STILL THERE I WANNA SEE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN🙏🏻🙏🏻 YOU DONT HAVE TO THO ID JUST LOVE TO SEE IT👁️👁️

lose your shit

dwb! matt x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, violence, mentions of blood, cursing

based on these texts, it won’t really make sense if you don’t read them.

a/n: the guy’s name is alex, i hope you like this <333

shit shit shit shit.

this is not good. i look over to the man laying in my bed, he was in a dead sleep.

matt doesn’t live that far away, maybe 10 minutes tops. however, he could have left before he even sent that text.

fuck.

i began to shake alex awake. “you gotta wake up, dude”

after a few seconds, he stirred and opened his eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asked, letting out a yawn.

“nothing. you just really need to fucking go”

“alright damn, but what’s the rush?”

“please just hurry up, i don’t have time for this” i said, pulling him off the bed.

“damn, was the sex that bad?” i didn’t even answer, just looked him up and down.

“alright, jeez” i collected his clothes from the floor and handed them to him.

he took the hint, beginning to get dressed.

when he was done he just stood there.

“was there something else you needed?” i asked trying to figure out why he wouldn’t leave.

“can i at least brush my teeth?”

“does this look like a fucking hotel to you? take your shit, and get out. now.” i answered, starting to get annoyed.

he just stared at me, mouth open.

“you do have a tooth brush and running water at your house, correct?”

“well, yeah. but-“

“ok that is amazing, lovely, the quicker you get out of my house, the quicker you can take care of your dental hygiene” i said nudging him out of my room.

i pushed him all the way to my door. maybe there is hope for this man after all.

when i opened the door, there stood matt.

fucking hell.

that has to be the worst timing i’ve ever had in my entire life.

his eyes immediately snapped toward alex. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“i could ask you the same thing, matty-boy”

they know each other.

the two men stared at each other, never breaking the intense glare.

“oh great! you two know each other! well, alex was just about to head home so, y’all can catch up later” i said, trying to get him to walk away.

“actually, i think i’m gonna stay” he said, looking matt up and down.

well, shit.

this was like something out of a god damn movie. and while it didn’t surprise me that matt was acting this way, i wasn’t expecting this from alex.

alex did not seem like the type of guy to start a fight, he seemed more like the type to run away from one. he simply wasn’t built for it, at least, that’s what i thought.

matt clenched his jaw before grabbing alex by his shirt, pulling him outside and pushing him against my house.

“jesus christ, matt” i said in shock.

“what ya gonna do matty? gonna hit me?” matt did just that, swinging at alex’s face.

“you need to stay the fuck away from her. got it?”

“no can do, matty pooh. i can’t lie, she’s a good fuck”

matt didn’t like his comment, as he pulled his fist back to punch alex again.

alex, however, was quicker this time. he caught matt’s fist with one hand and swung at him with the other.

yeah, i was definitely wrong about alex.

“hey fuckers! i don’t know if you’ve noticed but my house is white. it’d be lovely if you didn’t get blood on it !” i yelled, making matt turn his head towards me.

alex took advantage of matt’s distraction to land another blow to matt’s face.

that shit looked like it hurt.

i then pulled matt away, placing myself between the two.

“you two need to get a fucking grip” i turned to alex. “walk away before i call the cops on your ass”

i turned to matt, “you’ve made your point, let him go”

matt gave him one last glare before gesturing alex to go. with that, alex walked off “your face isn’t the only place i left marks ” he mumbled.

matt started to walk after him, but i placed my hand on his chest to stop him.

i tilted my head at him, looking into his eyes. “it’s fine. just let him go” he looked at me, eyes softening, and nodded.

once i heard alex’s car door shut and him drive away, i pulled matt inside “come on”.

i brought him to my bathroom, pulling out my first aid kit.

“did he actually mark you up?” he asked, as i grabbed a wash cloth for his face.

“no, matt. he was just trying to get under your skin” i said as i ran water over the cloth and brought it to his face.

i began to clean his cuts, making him grimace. “i know, i know. sorry”

my tongue poked out a little past my lips, as i continued to clean his cuts.

he stared down at my lips the whole time, not saying a word.

“all done.” i said as i finished up. i started to reach over him to grab a bandage. “lemme just grab a-“ he suddenly grabbed my arm halting my movements as he studied my face.

my face felt hot under his gaze, as i tried not to show how nervous he made me. without another word, he grabbed my face, pulling me in for a kiss.

he kissed me with passion, like he was pouring all of his emotions into it. it wasn’t hungry or lust-driven. it said all the things that we could never say to each other’s faces.

he pulled away, pressing his forehead to mine. “what was that for?” i asked, eyes still closed.

“i need you to know that i care about you” my eye opened at this, staring into mine.

“i’m not using you for sex. i could never do that, baby. and i’m so sorry i ever made you feel that way. you are the most important thing to me. i can’t lose you, and i couldn’t live with myself if i let anything happen to you.”

he pecked my nose.

“i know that you’re capable of making your own decisions, and i’m not trying to take that away from you. but i know that guy and he’s not the type of person you want to be around. i can’t just watch him ruin you.” he moves a piece of hair out of my face.

“so i’m sorry that i just showed up here. i’m sorry i lost my shit. i’m sorry about the blood on your house” we both chuckled.

“but i can’t help it when it comes to you, you drive me crazy”

“hmm i don’t know i kinda like it when you lose your shit, it’s hot” i said as our noses touched.

he pushed my hips against my sink.

“good” he said as he went in for another kiss.

🌀🌀🌀🌀

hope you liked :)

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @chrissturnioloswifey @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @sosmatt @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Ghost Story

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader

Summary: After a drug deal, you two watch A Christmas Carol (and make out)

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Enjoy this late as BALLS Christmas post 😭😭 Merry LATE Christmas @tr4sh-pl4nt I was ur secret Santa (nobody is surprised)

-

Despite the cloudy skies and flurries of snow, a soft reflection of the frost outside streams a bit of light into the office as you pull back the blinds. The sidewalks and alleys are empty- nary a car on the street. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you were in Silent Hill rather than Gotham City. There’s nothing but grey, blistery, snowy solitude. This was good. With nobody around, this was sure to be an easy buy.

“Something on your mind?” He pipes up.

Snapping the shade back into place, you look back to see that he’s found the stash. In a small, plastic bag, the pills are on the desk. “No, I’m all good.”

He clicks his tongue with a wry grin. “If it’s the cops you’re worried about, don’t be. There’s gonna be a huge storm tonight- I doubt the pigs would leave the barn; freezing their butts off to go after a low-life like you.”

“Low-life? Look who’s talking,” You glare, making your way over to the desk. “Scarecrow.”

As your hand goes to reach for the pills, his thin fingers come into view, sliding the bag back.

“You fuck. I already payed.” Your eyes stare daggers into his clinical gaze. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you brace yourself for whatever psychological games he decides to play with you now.

“Look,” he slides the bag off the desk and in between his slender fingers, as if dangling it just out of reach. “I’m not dumb enough to mess with a tweaker and their drugs, but humor me for a moment, won’t you?”

“You have five seconds to give me my-”

“Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?” He’s completely unfazed by the threat, pulling out a DVD copy of the film.

“What?” Any aggression from within you begins to dissipate, turning into utter bewilderment.

“A Christmas Carol,” he repeats. “Y’know, a grizzled, selfish old miser who is haunted by three spirits who represent the ever-changing stages of his life? How each journey into his past, present, and future make him reevaluate the way he lives his life and treats others and learns the true meaning of Christmas?”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

“Well forget it.” He slides the DVD into the video player, watching it click into place. “Sure, it’s a classic holiday tale, but it’s so much more than that.” He springs up, flicking off the lights. “It’s a horror story.”

The blue glow from the old television illuminated the office as it came to life with some static and a startling pop. You began to wonder how old that damn thing was until you found yourself standing alone with Crane on the empty couch. Although the room was dark, you could feel Dr. Crane’s piercing gaze beckoning you over. Hesitantly, you sit on the other end of the couch.

As the film begins, the Disney logo catches your eye. “Horror story my ass…” you mutter.

“What was that?” He quips, wondering how he heard you.

“Horror story my ASS.” You annunciate clearly. Shifting in your seat you turn to him. “A Disney movie? You refuse to give me my shit for this?” You laugh bitterly.

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly. “You really don’t have any idea of what we’re about to get into, do you?”

“What the fuck on God’s green earth are you talking about?”

“Scoff all you want,” he grins, turning down the volume. “This version of the film truly captures the true essence of fear better than its other iterations. Narratively speaking, the film remains pretty faithful to the original novella by Charles Dickens, which obviously is something to be expected from any adaptation, but it’s especially crucial here to really showcase the specific fears of the time.”

“Well yeah it might be accurate, but doesn’t everyone collectively agree that this one sucks?” You reply. “I mean, look at the creepy ass mocap, it’s literally the same shit as the Polar Express-”

“Oh right!” He shifts excitedly. “The visuals only contribute to terror! Sure, motion capture gets a bad rap because it’s a little off-putting, but it really works in a film like this- perfectly seasoned with that uncanny valley effect. It really adds to the flavor of dread.”

“Whatever man,” you scoff. “It’s just some story about an old man.” You turn your attention back to the movie, straining to listen to the low volume despite Jonathan’s chatter.

He clears his throat. “An old man- who you may find, has far similar fears to you than you may think.”

You cock your head to the side, turning to him. “You callin’ me an old man?”

The sound of his laughter fills your ears. “Oh no, not at all.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “It’s just so painfully human.”

“Human?”

“Scrooge isn’t taught redemption, he’s simply being driven by fear.” He leans back on the couch. “The ghosts don’t just visit him to bring awareness to his cold heart, but they dismantle him- tearing away layers and layers of his psyche until there’s nothing left but his raw fear. It’s fascinating, really. How the fear completely reshapes his attitude in the waking world.”

You find yourself leaning back as he moves his way closer to you, only to be caught by the end of the couch.

“And you wanna know what the real scary thing is? It’s the fact that we could all end up just like him- Alone. Forgotten. Unloved. It’s a common fear that drives us all, isn’t it? The fear of abandonment? Being left behind.” You can feel the heat radiating from his body with every word spoken.

You blink, at a loss for words. It’s starting to feel all too real. “I,” you stutter. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

“Oh, but it has everything to do with you.” His voice is low, as you feel yourself be closed in. “That invisibility,” he lets the words linger on his tongue. “Something that most people prefer to ignore, but it’s still there isn’t it? Lurking.”

His eyes stare within the confines of your soul. You look away from his prying eyes, but you can still feel his gaze on you like a searchlight.

You can feel your chin between his fingers as he gently forces you to look at him. “I think this little arrangement we have- these little meetings, it’s more than just a drug deal isn’t it? I think you want more than just drugs.”

Suddenly the office didn’t feel so chilly anymore. The closeness of his breath on the shell of your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He’s right. You do want more.

Your hands slide up his long arms, feeling the fabric of his shirt beneath your palms. Resting your fingers on his shoulders, you pull him closer. You speak up, words barely a whisper. “So, you gonna give me my drugs or not?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask.” A knowing grin graces his silhouetted frame.

Pulling the bag from his pocket, he opens the seal, taking out a small, ghost-shaped tablet and places it on his tongue. At first you were confused as to why he was breaking into your stash until you felt the harsh press of his lips against yours.

Pulling him closer into you, you allow your hands to slip under his shirt, feeling his flesh on your fingertips. In turn, he runs his hand through your hair while the other snakes its way down your spine, cradling the small of your back. His grip is firm, fingers digging into you, showing no sign of letting go.

Quickly, he nips at your lower lip. As you whine at sting, you fall victim to his plan when he slips his tongue into your mouth. You can feel him transfer the tablet to you, swallowing it down with his guidance. In retaliation, you sink your nails into the skin of his back, feeling him hiss into the kiss as he pulls away with a chuckle.

Breathless from the kiss, he wraps an arm around you. “Maybe this will help you understand Scrooge’s fear.” He grabs the remote, adjusting the film’s volume back to normal.

At this point you could give less of a shit about the movie. You allow yourself to fall into Jonathan’s side. You’re not sure if it’s from the pill or the kiss as you let yourself be overtaken by the waves of euphoria and adrenaline.

[kivrumi]

⭑ᡣ𐭩"₊SEVEN 𐙚⁺˚

chapter 4 - fuck virgins

FEM!READER × ? JJK

ʚ PAIRINGS : Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, Ino Takuma, Higuruma Hiromi, Kento Nanami, Naoya Zenin ɞ

{ it is not stated here who the reader ends up with, the story is to find out.. }

NON-CURSE AU | COLLEGE AU

꒰ SUMMARY : How did you end up in such a mess with various guys? From strangers, friends, and crushes to ex-boyfriends and enemies. How did, what you thought was simple, life turn out like this? And who exactly were you to end up with?

꒰ WARNINGS : SLOWBURN - NSFW 18+ - mature & sexual themes - smut / lemon - language - violence - mentions of obsessive behaviour - sub/dom mentions - angst andd fluff :3

SEVEN MASTERLIST

prev chapt | next chapt

You were a virgin.

It's not surprising due to your life usually being boring and on the low. But you were 19 now, and a plain old virgin. Although it shouldn't be embarrassing to be a virgin at 19, in fact, it was a good thing! But it's embarrassing that nearly everyone you knew was not a virgin.

In the past, you have had only one chance and it was with your ex, you two were so close but, you were scared. It's embarrassing, that you were scared of losing your virginity. That topic has never actually been brought up between you and your friends. You assume Choso thinks you lost your virginity to your ex, and the rest of the group would assume the same when you would tell them about your ex. You were the only one who knew you were a virgin. Until now, where Toji already has you laid down on his bed. You are both still clothed as his hands cup your pussy outside of your shorts. You squirm at the feeling of his large hand down there, where only you have touched. He wouldn't be able to tell that you were a virgin, right?

"You a virgin or sum girl, im barely grazing my finger over your pussy, yet you're squirming like you're taking my dick" Toji grabs both of your thighs and sharply pulls you closer to him, "You are a virgin, aren't you?" His head dips to the side of your neck, licking upwards. "That's fine... do you like that I'll be the one taking away your innocence?" His words scare you, his prominent bulge scares you. His hands go to your breasts, kneading them over the fabric. You were in a daze, you forgot everything he said to you. You forgot how painful it's going to be in a few minutes.

He stripped away from you to take off his shirt, and you then lazily unbuttoned your top. "Bad cop, need to reverse the role? Need me to tell you what to do" You nod with teary eyes as you take off your top fully now. Revealing you only being in your baby pink bra. He bites his lip at the sight, he then slowly unzips your shorts and slides it down. You raise your hips to help him as he struggles at your feet. He yanks your shoes off and throws them across the room along with your shorts now, and then your panties. He gets on his knees, placing your legs on both of his shoulders, you were too much in a daze to realize how close he was to your exposed pussy "damn girl, you're already so wet for me" he slides two digits up your slit, causing you to go back to squirming as he leaves out a small chuckle. One digit started poking into your hole slightly as if he was checking something. "Forgot how tight virgin girls are, I'm in for a real treat tonight" And with that both of his hands are tightly gripping your thighs as his head slams into your cunt, eating you out.

"O-oh my god-" Your head was thrown back onto the bed as your hands reached down to the covers to grip something but not much was there to gather under your fingers. His tongue relentlessly poked your entrance as he savored your taste. He groaned into your pussy and pulled you closer to him by your thighs. Your hands, at last, found a location. His hair. Your hands gripped onto it unsure whether to pull him away or pull him closer. "nghh s-slower pleaseee" Your cries were unheard by the pussy hungry man, instead he moved his hand to join him. His thumb circled on your clit as two digits slowly slid into your entrance. "too much Toji please~ too muchhh" He didn't bother replying to you, his focus was all on your cunt. His fingers curled, they felt so different from yours. His are a normal length but extremely thick. If his fingers are so thick how thick can his cock possibly be? "Toji- im gonna aghh fuck im nghh" It was obvious to understand what you were declaring, but he pulled away fully. The warmth of his tongue and hands were undiscovered as it was replaced by something that was previously in his pants. He was big.

Your legs automatically closed as you look down at his size. Are you sure you want to do this? A hand pulled your legs apart again as you felt the coldness down below, you do already miss the feeling of his mouth but now you see his bare dick nearing your entrance. Oh fuck. His cock was huge, the girth was insane. No way could you take that.

"Toji your uhm, your so.." Would he be upset if you backed out? Would he hate you forever for that?

"My... what?" he moved his tip to tap it onto your clit, he knew what you were trying to say but itched for you to say it yourself.

"You're so big Toji... I don't know if I can- I think this is a mist-" Mid-sentence you hissed as he bit your neck, he knew you were afraid but he quite frankly didn't care.

"I'm going in now" Your heart pounded with fear as your hands gripped his biceps, ushering him to back away but he wouldn't budge. His tip found your entrance as you started hissing and the slight pain now. He knew you were a virgin, can't he take this slower?

"Toji, please... I'm not sure if I-" Every word you were soon about to utter disappeared once he bottomed out. You didn't know what to do, what to say, and how to react. It seems like running away is no longer an option. But he is the man you've adorned for so long, it's finally your chance. Ignore the pain and enjoy every minute of this. He slowly started thrusting in, and when he saw your unsure face he kissed your temple.

"You okay doll? You can handle this right?" You nodded your head yes when truly you just wanted to say no, leave this house, and cry at home. His thrust became quite frantic and the pain finally became a pleasure. His cock was able to hit all of your sweet spots and the way he hovered over you allowed you to be sunk into this pleasure. The way his hairs now stick to his forehead, eyes closed in ecstasy as he lets out small grunts. You couldn't help but whimper his name, his eyes immediately glaring at you in lust as his thrusts became faster and harder.

"fuck Toji please"

"You feel so good for me doll huh, a little slut for me. I can do anything I want to you and you'd still fall on your knees for me right?" you moan in response as you feel a tight knot in your stomach. "Baby I'm going to cum" He didn't even bother asking where. He then pulls out, and stroked himself twice to then shoot onto your stomach and breasts with an audible deep grunt, ropes shooting onto you.

Wait, he came without waiting for you? You haven't came yet, and you are desperate to. You're confused as the tight knot in your stomach has vanished, as you watch him put his sweats back on. Did he think you came? You watch him smile to himself as he goes to the bathroom to wash his face, then comes back to the room to look at you. Your legs are trembling and you're in pain again. You look up to him, hoping he will help you finish or just help you clean, get dressed, or even help you leave.

"You was alright doll, if you want to fuck some other time I'd have to decline, I got real sluts in line f'me, yeah?" He unlocks the door, ready to leave me stranded, vulnerable, and naked. He stops to look back at me and adds an extra snarky comment "Sorry doll, you just bore me. Just a pretty face and body." The door is now slammed shut as you stare into nothingness. How can anyone process such cruelty?

You can't help but blame yourself, what made you think you were different from the other girls? What made you think he would stay by your side after one night? What made you think he would have sex with you and focus on YOUR pleasure?

Rage, confusion but mainly sadness crossed your mind. Tears flew down your cheeks as you nakedly sat alone. How could you lose your virginity to such a man?

-

Although it was uneasy to walk due to the throbbing pain you felt in your lower area you now found yourself finally clothed and walking around the house. Gojo was your designated driver but did you all think this through with the amount of shots he's been slinging? He shouldn't dare touch the wheel. You spot a balcony, the door open with wind barging through. Steadily walking towards it you stare down into the city, admiring real beauty. You feel that you're going insane from Toji's sickening words and what had previously happened. Becoming a pothead seems like a great idea now.

"I'm surprised to see you still alone" a dark voice spoke out behind you as you were glazing at the buildings' flickers of light. Turning around you're met with that same military man, "Suguru Geto, remember me from a few hours ago?" you nod your head, he seems to be less high you might say, his eyes finally rid of the redness, bringing out his alluring purple eyes. "sure you wanna be out, in the cold? Not really a good idea, specifically cuz of that skimpy outfit of yours..." Now that he has stepped a lot closer he can make out your dried-up stained mascara and gloomy face. You either got fucked hard or fucked up hard. Little to his knowledge it was both. His thumb glazed your cheek as you found it hard to reply or even react to his words. The moment with Toji before replays constantly in your head since he left that room, making you lonely in his bed. So caught up in thought you don't realize Getos lips ghost yours, before a word of protest can be said he slowly and gently kisses you. It wasn't like any other kiss before, nothing like Toji or your ex-boyfriend. So warm, calm, and relaxing. Yet he had a disgusting tint taste of weed, the effects of it still clearly within Geto. His hand travels down your back to your waist as his other hand remains on your cheek. You kiss back at the same pace, completely forgetting this is your second man of the night. Your hands are placed on both his shoulders, he has faint fumes of weed which make you pretty disgusted, but his warm kiss keeps you reeled in. Why were you even kissing him?

Finally, you part your lips away from his, looking at how his face scrunched up in the moonlight, with a slightly needy look.

"Geto..." your hands are placed on his cheeks, and you feel out of place. This night is confusing to you. "What are we doing?"

"What are you doing? Want to explain your distraught face and tears?"

You leave a gap of silence after his words, concerned about what is going on in his head "Why are you concerned? You don't know me"

"You're Satorus pretty little friend" His hand then squeezes your hip "Plus, I'm very curious about you. A gorgeous girl like you and Satoru isn't on your tail? It's genuinely shocking, I wonder if it's because he doesn't like you well enough or he doesn't want to scare you off" Unsure what he meant by his statement you just silently stare at him. He towers over you, ghosting his lips to yours once again. "I'm glad I've had the chance to meet you.." he slides his hands upwards, feeling around your body "and touch you, like this..." His lips found themself back on yours, it's quick and messy. Without realising, you've stepped backwards, you shiver once feeling the balcony metal rails shock you with cold steel, yet in front of you, a large warm body embraces you. "You want this?" He asks, breathless and kissing you softly as you nod yes. Why did you nod yes?

His lips detached from your lips and trailed downwards. From your neck to your breasts, after admiring them for a while, his knees slowly fell. His lips were found by your waist, and now tugging your shorts down?!

"Ngh- Geto wait-" His head between your thighs shocked you. Your thin layer of panties is all that guarded you at this point, you push his head away. He looks at you confused, honestly, he looked really cute like that. Confused face, looking up at you, made your heart flutter and you had the urge to shove him back where he was clearly aching to be. "This isn't a good idea, tonight I had just..."

"Just what princess?" He patiently waits for you to answer as he still looks up at you. You feel guilt rush through your veins, you had only just lost your virginity around an hour ago to THE Toji Fushiguro in his bedroom. Not that you were able to finish... You really felt the need to finish. Plus, you're not thinking straight, your head is fucked up after Toji.

"Nevermind"

‐

Geto has got your panties in his pocket, and you're still on the balcony, back against railings. Anybody here can go upstairs to Toji's fourth floor (He happens to be rich here) and see Geto's head between your legs, working hard to please you.

"Fuck Geto"

"Suguru. Call me Suguru please princess"

"S-suguru, please i-" His tongue worked along your slit, and two of his fingers had just found your G-spot. "F-FUCK Oh my-" It wasn't long until his new discovery, which he was able to abuse, had made your legs tremble immensely as you finally let the knot that was building up inside release. He didn't mind that his face was still right below you as you came, hard. Pent up from Toji, you felt blessed now, relaxed. Your eyes were closed, due to the ecstasy that had taken over you. Suguru has gotten up and placed you on a nearby chair since standing wasn't an option for you. Suguru finally distances himself, staring at you. Your eyes slowly opened, processing everything. The guilt and regret have already started consuming you.

"You okay?" Suguru asks as he stands in front of you, analysing if he can do anything to help.

"mhm" you faintly say. You then realise Suguru hasn't had any chance of satisfaction, you're not greedy like Toji but hell you were tired. But you will make an effort. You motion for him to come closer, which he does, but then abruptly moves away when your hand goes down to his zipper in hope of freeing his hard-on.

"What are you doing princess?" He questions you, as you're baffled why he moved away.

"Pleasure goes both ways" You reply with, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Don't worry about me princess, that was just a gift for you. I could tell you had a horrible night with someone else and I just wanted to make sure you finished off" He says calmly, how could he tell you was pent up by someone else? He then grabs a pen and then your arm, writing down digits. "My number pretty, I'll see you around yeah? Will you be safe?"

He and Gojo were practically the same, writing their number on your arm. No wonder why they are joint to the hip. You nodded your head as he gave you a warm smile, before walking away back into the sea of drunk dancing college students.

prev chapt | next chapt

a/n wow this is pure smut and its with two different men too... insane

@kivrumi do not steal / copy / reword / translate my work

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 18

Kinktober Masterlist dis manibus - "for the ghost" Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader Kinks > possessive, dub con, ghosts?? Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

In your little town of Sleepy Hollow, it’s usually not hard to make the news. But, when the headlines start bringing up ghosts from the past, and your fellow residents make claims that a ghoulish biker is attacking drivers on Route 330, you start to regret being the lone journalist in town. Legend has it that the masked rider is on the hunt for the most perfect sacrifice, and he won’t stop his reign of terror until he finds it.

Warning: actual ghosts, possession, dub con?, general spookiness

Yellowed teeth and a dangling cigarette, the stench of sweat and cheap tobacco, shaky hands and disordered movements, plus a wardrobe of ill-fitting, oil-stained jorts with a crooked-cropped Bud Light tee shirt completed Brandi Reddman’s signature look. Mrs. Reddman was standing in her usual spot outside of a dilapidated Pilot truck stop on the corner of Hatchet and Simmons. But, the leather-skinned, bleached-blonde, trailer park queen didn’t go by her late husband’s surname anymore. She preferred to be called by her well-earned title: Beaumont Brandi.

“And don’t you go putin’ no damn Reddman on my fuckin’ report,” she glared at you from her perch on the bright red bollard just outside her favorite Pilot truck stop, “Don’t even know what I’m gettin’ a goddamn ticket for. Two consentin’ adults can do whatever the hell they like, cain’t they? Ain’t this still America?”

“Ms. Brandi,” you sighed, “I’m not a cop. I’m a reporter. And I’m not sure what you want me to do when Mr. Brunson calls me down here to tell me about you tearing up his dumpsters again. You know there's a whole town full of people upset about the destruction of property here.”

Your stomach turned just thinking about writing this ridiculous article. What would the title even be? The Trash Takes Itself Out: a Sleepy Hollow tale. Or, Lot Lizard Strikes Again! With a full cover spread? No. This could not be your life. You tried to control the look of disdain on your face. 

“It wasn’t even me! That asshole is crazy!” Brandi protested, the cigarette in her mouth holding onto her dry, cracking lip with nothing more than God’s will at this point. 

“He said he saw you and a certain truck driver come out of the alcove just a few hours ago,” you reiterated.

“Hell, no. I ain’t gonna fuck no John in no smelly-ass dumpster. I’m a high class lady,” Brandi gestured to her ensemble, “And I’m tellin’ you, that lock was busted before I even stepped over here this mornin’. It’s that damn haint is what it is.”

The Haint of Sleepy Hollow. The Hollow’s Hell Rider. The Ghoul of 330. He went by many names, or sometimes, he was just called The Ghost. 

Back in the late seventies when everyone was doing a little too much of everything, your town earned a bit of a reputation. There had been a string of disappearances off of the local highway, Route 330, and locals claimed to have seen a masked soldier on a motorbike, fresh home from Saigon, carrying his M16 slung across his back and wearing a skull mask over his face. He was riding an Indian 900, blacked out with no headlight and no plate. 

Of course the truckers had been the first ones to sound the alarm, and there was a city-wide manhunt for any bikers matching that description. But back then, no one had cameras in their hands as readily as they did now, so it was all just a bunch of hearsay and over-exaggerated stories about the boogeyman. 

But, that’s all it was. Just stories. There was no masked rider. 

“Hey, you got another one of those?” Brandi pointed to the pack of smokes in your pocket that you’d brought along to bribe her with. 

You sighed, lighting one for her and then for you. You told yourself you needed it to get through the rest of this conversation. 

As she took a long drag, her timbre changed. She became quieted by her own voice, it seemed.

“I seent him, though. He was there. Parked under the bridge.”

She pointed to the overpass, her wrinkled finger trembling a bit as she guestered to the black shadows under the highway. You followed her line of sight, trying to imagine a dark rider in a skull mask, parked in the umber and looking for vengeance in the most boring town in New England. 

“Did he do anything?” You asked, trying your best to scrounge up something more interesting than sex work in gas station parking lots for this write up. 

Beaumont Brandi stared into the darkness with you, remembering… or maybe she was just fucking with you. But, it didn’t seem like it. She took another puff of smoke into her mouth, hissing it out through her stained teeth, 

“No, but it felt like he was looking for somethin’. Felt… lonely. I dunno.”

Shaking you from the eerie moment Brandi had crafted between you both, a big, rumbling Mack truck pulled into the back lot, turning your gaze away from the bridge. Your interviewee hurried to smoke one more pull from her pilfered cigarette and gathered up her glittery, denim purse. 

“That’s my ride. See you around,” she said, her voice still distant and restrained, lacking all of the ruffled animosity she’d presented to you earlier. 

You stayed there, watching her scamper across the wide, drab concrete field, dodging pot holes and puddles, heading for the blue semi that had just parked in the trucker wash station. You watched her until she knocked on the door, standing on her tiptoes to reach the wide passenger window, shuffling around until the latch popped open and she disappeared inside. 

The dark hollow of the highway’s bridge caught your gaze as you turned away from Brandi and her “ride”, and a cold chill shot down your spine. As you peered into the shadowy underpass, a lone biker, all in black, was sitting on his Indian motorcycle, staring right at you. His body was enormous. Even though the bike he rode was large, he was simply unfathomably tall and broad. When he leaned forward on the handlebars, idling there, his shoulders bulged in his leathers, threatening to break free. He was wearing a full-face helmet, but you could feel his eyes burning into your skin. 

The problem was, you had no idea how he got there. You hadn’t heard his engine rev, and you knew you would’ve been able to listen to the roar echo through the underside of the highway, it’s enclosure making an accidental amplifier. 

You stared back at him, but you reached into your pocket and clutched your car keys. Everything in your body was telling you to run. So, you quickly turned away, needing to force yourself to break your gaze, making yourself walk briskly back to your beat-up Miata. 

Get in, and drive away, you told yourself. Get in. Drive away. Get in…

You were trying to calm yourself down, your mind feeding you a million excuses as to why you hadn’t heard him approach, or telling yourself it was just a guy on a bike and not a ghost, but you could still feel your heart in your throat, pounding away like a fist inside your veins. 

Popping open the door to your car, you climbed in and immediately shut it behind you. Luckily, the soft canvas top of your ratty old convertible was already pulled up, but the sooner you got back to your apartment, the better you would feel. You cranked the engine, threw it in reverse, and sped off out of the gas station parking lot, sending your work bag spilling out across the floor. 

As you pulled onto Hatchet, you headed east, avoiding 330. You tried to tell yourself it was because you enjoyed the senic route instead of the shorter path, but you knew that was a lie. 

Behind you, you heard the roar of a bike. 

You looked in your rearview mirror, but you didn’t see any headlights. Then, as you checked the side mirror, you saw him. It was the blacked out biker from the bridge. He was riding close to your back wheel, sitting in your blindspot, staring hard at you. 

He followed you for miles. You doubled back, avoiding red lights, trying to make circles so he would get tired of tailing you, but he never did. If anything, he was getting braver and braver, moving his bike up and down the length of your car. Getting in your way, toying with you just to get a reaction. 

You tried to speed up, but your junker was no match for his machine. So, you turned into a neighborhood, trying to lose him in the curvy, bumpy side streets. 

He followed, and you felt your breath catch in your chest. With every turn, he would drive up next to your window to peer inside, staring straight into your eyes. You almost hit the curb, and when you finally exited the neighborhood, you took a right, trying to race him on a wider road. 

It was one lane, but he didn’t seem to care. He reached out and planted his gloved hand on the glass of your driver’s side window as if he was trying to touch you through it, and you screamed at him through the glass, illogically,

“Leave me alone!”

He threw his head back, and you knew he was jeering at you. If a masked, faceless being could laugh, that’s what it would look like. 

You had no idea what else to do, so you got aggressive. You swerved, trying to sideswipe him, desperate to get rid of your masked tormentor. 

He dodged, nimbly moving himself out of your way. Then, he was right behind you, so you slammed on the brakes. 

There was no way for him to stop in time. No way. 

But, it didn’t matter. You watched in horror in your mirror as his bike and his body dematerialized, and he faded into a black mist, filling the interior of your tiny car, and reconstituting itself in your passenger seat. Your nose filled up with the smell of stale cigarettes and something undeniably masculine. His body filled in next to you in inky layers, pouring from a gas to a solid like smoke into a bottle, and what was supposedly impossible was becoming very, very real in your car. 

You screamed, pressing the brakes even harder, coming to a full, screeching stop in the middle of the road. No one was behind you yet, but you wished there would be. You prayed for someone - anyone - to turn down your street and find you stopped in the middle of it. 

The ghost - because what else could he be? - was staring straight at you, as if he was waiting for something.

“Leave me alone,” you begged, your voice feeling so small and strained. 

You were staring into your own eyes, seeing your face as it was warped and contorted in the gleaming black shine of his helmet visor. Suddenly, you felt your car lurch forward, and it was moving on its own. You tried to turn the wheel, and your foot was glued down onto the brake, but nothing you did mattered. The car was driving itself.

You yanked at your seatbelt and pulled on the door handle, trying to throw yourself from the car, but it wouldn’t budge. You ripped at the handle even harder, trying to slam your shoulder into the door, ignoring the pain. In a last-ditch effort, you reached into the steering column and pulled the keys from the car, hoping to kill the engine. But, it didn’t. Your vehicle was taking you wherever your ghost wanted to go, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

With your keys held tightly in your fist, you lashed out at the biker, using the metal shards to rake across his mask, scratching the visor. 

The speed with which he reacted startled you, and as his hand wrapped itself around your wrist, he tilted his head to the side as if to study you, curious about you and your choices. 

You felt your throat burn with despair, and tears ran from your eyes. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you sobbed, trying to pull your wrist away. 

He yanked your arm to his chest, tugging your body closer to his, forcing you into his space and taking you almost out of your seat, if it wasn’t for your belt. 

You were face to helmet with him, and you could smell the menthols that inexplicably clung to his clothes. He could touch you, and you could touch him. He felt so real, so warm. And yet…

Slowly, he reached out to you with his other hand to touch your face, caressing your cheek and wiping away a stray tear. The feel of his leather glove was so gentle against your skin, it made your head spin. His earlier aggression was still fresh in your mind, and you sobbed from the fear. 

Out of nowhere, a pickup truck swerved around your stopped car, blaring its horn at you, kicking up dirt from the side of the road, obviously upset at the stopped Miata in the middle of a street. 

In the few seconds your attention was snatched from the ghost in front of you, he disappeared. Your passenger seat was immediately empty, and you were alone once more. Your car was dead since your keys were in your hand, and the clicking of a warm engine cooling down was the only noise you heard. 

Another car was honking behind you, less aggressively than the pickup, but it moved around you and you turned back in your seat. 

As you drove home, you were numb. You couldn’t reconcile anything that happened to you, and you had no words to even describe it. You thought about driving to the police, or to your office so that your phantom biker wouldn’t know where you lived, but something in you laughed at your naivety. Why would that matter? He was a ghost. He could reach you no matter where you were. You might as well leave your front door wide open for how much good it would do you. 

When you finally crawled into bed, you left every light in the house on, but it didn’t help.

It was 0417 when you jerked out of your restless sleep, opening your eyes in your unusually bright room. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself down, and the horrors of the night before felt more like a bad dream than a true memory. 

You looked around, trying to determine whether you could manage to go back to sleep or not, when a faint noise pricked your ears. It was coming from outside your apartment window, down in the parking lot below your balcony. 

You sprang out of bed and pulled your curtain. There, parked and sitting on the side of his bike, was your ghost. He was looking up at your window, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was waiting for you. Waiting for you to say something, to do something. But, you didn’t know what.

Grabbing your keys, you flew out of your door and rushed down the stairs, hurrying to see if you could catch him. But, he was gone. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him, but you needed to know the truth. Your instincts as a reporter were driving you forward. You craved answers, needed them. 

You turned back around and headed for your car, starting it up and driving out of your complex, back onto the street. You headed for the highway, and he was waiting for you, parked on the shoulder. He took off, and you followed him, swerving in and out of early morning commuters, pushing your crappy Miata to its limit. 

He took the exit toward the old part of town, turning on the road to Ichabod Farm, cutting his speed and letting you catch up to him. Then, as he got further and further away from civilization, the farms turned into forests, and the roads went from pavement to dirt. Just as the sun was staining the clouds with its pink dawn, he stopped, sticking his leg out as a kickstand, and turned around to look at you. 

You waited, sitting in your car, but after a while, nothing changed. He was still just sitting there, staring back at you. So, you killed the engine, and you climbed out of your car. 

“Who are you?” You called to him, willing your voice to carry in the quiet morning. 

As if he was tired of your questioning, he turned forward. He swung his leg over the body of the bike, and stood beside it, still waiting for you. 

You started walking around to the front of your car, beginning to feel like you were a rabbit being led into its own trap, a lamb to its slaughter, and your skin tightened, the hair prickling on the back of your neck.

He put his hand out, gesturing toward the bike. 

“Do you want me to go with you somewhere?”

He seemed impatient. He stalked forward, marching in black leathers and boots, and grabbed your wrist just like he did in the car. 

“Wait! Hey! Wait, no!” You tried to fight him, but he held you fast, dragging you over to the bike. 

He lifted you without struggle and sat you on the back of his seat, and he climbed in front of you, bringing the bike back to a loud roar. He took off, nearly toppling you over, and in your shock, you wrapped both of your hands around his middle, holding on for dear life. 

To your shock, he turned off of the road and into the trees. The leaves made his tires slip and the roots of the tall yews made the ride bumpy and wild. You gripped him tighter and tighter, trying to remember which direction you were going, sure that he was taking you straight to your death, but just in case you escaped, you wanted to be able to try and make it out of the woods.

Suddenly, you came to a clearing. In the middle of it stood a huge, dead tree. The trunk had been struck by lightning, and the branches hung low, dipping towards the ground. Its roots were gnarled and popping like broken bones out of the dark earth, and it gave you a sense of immediate dread. 

He stopped the bike, throwing down the kickstand and climbing off. Then, he held out his hand to you. 

You looked at his helmet for a moment, trying to determine what he wanted, and then you realized he was trying to help you down. You placed your hand in his and felt him support you as you climbed off of the old motorcycle. 

He released you, and he stood beside you, looking up at the tree. 

You waited for a moment, again unsure about what he was trying to show you, but then you stepped forward. Something compelled you to touch the tree’s wide, twisting trunk. 

You were suddenly aware of the state of your dress. You were in socks, sleep shorts, and a tattered old tee shirt, shivering from fear and from the chilly morning. But, still, you stepped forward, moving with your hand out towards the tree, trying to ignore the pinch of stray rocks and sticks beneath your feet. 

Right before you touched the bark, you looked over your shoulder at the biker, and he was still standing there, waiting for you. 

So, you pushed forward, laying your palm against it, and you were instantly overwhelmed with flashes of images and sounds, memories which were not yours. You saw him. It was your ghost. He was fighting in a war with muskets and swords, and then he was in a trench with grenades. You watched him crawl on his belly through a wet, dense jungle. Then, you felt the heat and the sting of desert sands, and watched him dragging the bodies of his friends from the rubble of a bombed building. 

As quickly as they had begun, the visions stopped. You looked back at the masked rider, and he stepped toward you. His hands went to the neck of his jacket, and he raked the zipper down, revealing his bare chest and belly. He was riddled with scars, but he looked very much like a real man. The jacket fell with a thud on the forest floor, and he moved to shuck off his helmet. 

You watched the reveal with wide eyes and an open mouth. Black, inky smoke surrounded his face. He didn’t have a head. It was only a skull mask, cracked and broken around the edges, perched on him where his face should have been. It was just a swirling darkness, nothing else. His head was gone. 

Your heart nearly stopped.

“What… happened….” You managed to ask, your voice lower than a whisper. 

The helmet clattered to the ground, rolling until it rested against a thick root. 

He walked toward you, and you were staring into two black pits where there should have been soft brown eyes. You’d seen him in the vision. You knew what he should look like. And yet, all you were left with was this ghastly form. 

His body was warm. You could feel it as he towered over you, mere inches away from your face. You reached up to touch his cheek like he had touched yours in the car, and he let you. As your hand swiped across his jaw, you saw flesh appear where there was none before. More and more, you touched him, painting his face back on with your hands. You moved over his eyes and nose and mouth, feeling the softness of his lips and watching in awe as he became a man again. 

“Oh, my God.” You gaped, watching his face twist into an unknown expression, “You’re…”

“You made me real,” he spoke, his words sounded hellish; the noise was a terrible smear of shadow and violence. It was as if a million of voices were speaking at once. 

“I…” You were trying to talk, but he wasn’t interested. 

He leaned forward and slanted his mouth against yours, kissing you with a smoky musk on his tongue, forcing you to open and take his writhing muscle inside of your cheeks. He was breathing just as raggedly as you were, pushing himself onto you, dragging you to the leaf-covered ground. 

He repeated his mantra, gasping it, his timbre full of disbelief,

“You… made me… real…”

His mouth was on you again, the top half of his face still hidden by the skull mask. He kissed your neck, and you felt his gloved hands grabbing at your clothes, shoving down your shorts. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered. 

“You.” His voice reverberated through you like a snarl of thunder. You could feel the sound move through your bones, “You can bring me back to this place.” 

The air was cold as it billowed across your skin when he pulled away your shirt. The leather of his gloves was such a rough contrast to the smooth, furry expanse of his chest and belly, and he crushed himself against you, pressing you with all of his weight into the forest floor. 

Your mind was in a haze. All of the magic and memories from the tree were whirling around you. His many lives, all stacked together, repeated like the rings of its trunk, year after year, his wars, his scars. All of them now real and raised to the touch. 

His mouth moved over you, hungry and wanting. You weren’t ready to be taken so roughly, with so little regard, in the dirty, dank mud of this clearing. But, you wanted to be. You found yourself completely captivated by his movements, his hands, and the way he consumed you, making you feel like you were the key to his entire existence. 

You spread your legs for him, and he had the audacity to laugh softly in his ghostly throat, rolling his hips between your legs to fit himself there, spreading you further with his wide body. 

You felt the button of his leather pants loose and dangling, flapping open against your thighs which meant…

His cock lolled across your mons and belly, warm and hard. He humped himself against you, rutting along the curve of your tummy and teasing you with a preview of his strength. You reached down very slowly, stroking him carefully, barely touching his velvety foreskin, feeling the slip of it as he moved against your hand.

He let out a long, heated moan, his breath warm as it surrounded your neck, and he whispered to you in his million voices,

“Give yourself to me,” he chanted, “Bring me back.”

No sooner could you whisper back your consent than he grabbed you by your jaw and forced you to look into his black, soulless eyes. He notched his cock at your trembling hole, letting it dip into the wetness he had crafted there. Then, he pushed forward, stretching your walls around him, making you take his drooling head, raking himself in and out so that he could go deeper and deeper with each thrust. 

You cried out, grasping your hands around his shoulders, and he squeezed your face in his huge paw, making you feel like he might break your jaw if he held you any tighter. 

Once he was fully sheathed within the hollow of your body, he moved with a powerful, pistoned thrust, slamming himself through you and making your core heat from his friction. You felt yourself being broken by him, the parts of you that were holding together your sanity were slowly slipping away with each punishing movement, and the deeper you allowed him to fuck you, the further away from reality your thoughts were. You were back in his memories, imagining his life before, his warfare, ancient and modern, and all you could think about was why he would want to be back here. What did he want? Was it you?

His hand slipped between your lips, and he pressed into your throat, rubbing your tongue and making your jaw ache from his pressure and invasion. You tried to suckle from him, taking his fingers past your teeth, licking and slurping up your own spit from his glove. 

“Such a good girl. Perfect for me. A new vessel.”

Vessel? What were you holding?

You whined, trying to understand, and he silenced you with a growl, low and deep. He was fucking you at a pace full of fire and fury, and your whole body felt like it was being pounded into submission. You could hear the wet, gushing slapping noises that his cock was making as it churned inside of you. Your legs felt weak, and you couldn’t help but leave them hanging open, allowing him to fill you as deep as he could go. 

Your mouth burned from his fingers, and your pussy was begging to come, clenching and shaking with need. He felt you, and he pushed through your shuddering quim harder and harder, using you to bring himself to his own crescendo, joining you on the edge. 

“You’re mine…” He hissed, moving himself right against your most pliant spot, massaging you up to a tumbling explosion of feeling and fervent want. 

As you came, you screamed, but it was muffled by his invasive hand. He came with you, filling you as you tightened around him, dumping his thick load into your hole, smearing it all over your lips with each covetous thrust. 

Then, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was melting into you, his body turning back into mist, covering your skin and seeping into your flesh. You felt him inside of you, curling and twisting around all of the parts that made you who you were, turning them for his own benefit, staining your soul with his own. 

You gasped, searching for air, watching helplessly as the last thing you saw before he disappeared completely was the black sockets of his skull mask, and it felt like he was smiling. 

You lay there, alone, and yet full of him. He was feeling and sensing and thinking right alongside you. And he was… playing with you. You could feel him moving his cock deep within you even though, when you looked down, there was nothing there. 

“Please…” You begged, closing your legs together, trying to stop the sensation from happening.

“Pretty thing,” the Ghost chuckled, “We’re just getting started.”

[frownyalfred]

Do you have any fun stories involving galas and rich men because the botox thing has me so curious now

Ooh, me personally? I have a few. I once was invited to a very important black tie event with an honest-to-god billionaire or close to it, who was a very old man at the time and infamous for being inappropriate with women. We had some face-to-face time briefly and he was absolutely wildly inappropriate to me. His staff were fluttering around him making excuses and thinly-veiled threats about me sharing any of this info. I wasn't allowed to stand more than a few feet away from him since he was grabby. I think he ended up having dementia that they didn't release publicly until after he'd died.

You run into a lot of coke at these events. It's not my thing, but I've stumbled into a lot of bathrooms and back rooms where it's happening very enthusiastically. I've known a few guys who have gotten too deep into that world and embezzled from clients or their jobs. It ends up being super sad and it's rough to watch happen in person (people losing their houses, or social standing, etc, because their husband was trying to maintain a lifestyle they couldn't afford)

I once danced with a wealthier guy (flashy watches, etc) who was, in hindsight, absolutely involved in some sort of organized crime. He was Russian and thought I was cute, and dragged me and my friend to a few different clubs with full line skipping and bottle service at every place. They all knew him by name. Once we got inside and started dancing, I reached behind me while we were kinda grinding to grab his waist. There was a huge fucking gun in the back of his pants. I grabbed my friend and we danced away, haha.

I knew a wealthy man who was going through a rough divorce and very clearly threatened his soon to be ex wife all over his personal social accounts. She didn't like that and called the cops. He never got arrested, but it was a damn near thing. All his buddies pretended it never happened.

I once went on a very fancy date with a guy to a prestigious steakhouse/bar. They refused to seat us since they closed in 30ish minutes. We were in black tie attire from a previous event, and there was a huge storm outside. He ended up suing them for racial discrimination I think. It made the news and everything. He asked me to be a party/witness but he was very, very intense and I kind of dropped him after he wouldn't stop calling me.

I dated someone with a penthouse once. It was very nice but very clearly not his. Never got a full explanation on that one.

[lunaatthezoo]

The Light Between Sin & Salvation: Chapter 2

🎶 Good morning, good morning, you slept the whole night through. Good morning, good morning, new chapter for u! 🎶

Chapter 2: Pizza and Beer

Summary: Az and Elain strike up a friendship. They learn surprising facts about each other. Az becomes significantly more deranged about protecting Elain. We have a CLASSIC "Who did this to you?" moment (honestly my fave trope I don't care how played out it is). Preview below!

Azriel lounged in his car for a couple hours, listening to his book and surveying the surroundings. He had parked further down the block so he could watch Elain’s building from a distance, both to maintain her privacy and to avoid any potential enemies learning where her building was. 

He checked his phone every few minutes but received hardly anything. One message from Rhys saying Nesta had finally agreed. One message from Cass with a crying emoji. Azriel responded to each with noncommittal remarks. 

He checked Elain’s window through binoculars every few minutes as well. Thank god for tinted windows or someone for sure would have called the cops on him. 

Her curtains were open and he could make out an apartment filled with pastel colors and hanging plants. It made him smile. It probably smelled so fucking good in there. He imagined the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafting through the small space. 

At one point he glimpsed Elain doing dishes. Her sink must be right under the window. He watched her methodically wash and rinse. She bounced a little and looked like she might be singing along to music. 

Fuck. She was so mesmerizing to watch. 

When evening was beginning to fall, Elain stepped out of the front door of her apartment and Azriel straightened. She walked the opposite direction down the street, so Azriel slid out of his car and followed on silent feet. He patted both his holsters under his jacket to make sure he was locked and loaded. 

He followed half a block behind Elain for about fifteen minutes. Thank fuck she was wearing a puffy winter coat so he wasn't forced to watch a swishing ass as she walked. He was certain he wouldn't be able to handle that. 

The god damn effect this woman already had on him. 

She finally entered a cozy-looking coffee shop on a bustling little corner. Azriel debated waiting outside but it was fucking cold and the warmth inside beckoned him, so he slipped through the door after a minute or two. 

She had told him to “pop up” every once in a while. 

Az ducked into the shop, a little bell jingling above him as he did. He instantly spotted Elain at the counter ordering and he hung back in the front corner of the shop, waiting. Elain then walked to the other end of the counter to wait for her drink. She started shifting nervously on her feet. She didn’t have quite the same light air to her as she had earlier in the day. It looked like something was weighing her down. 

Continue reading on AO3!

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part One)

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Hi beauties! Another late update because I started working full time again and I barely even have time for myself. I'm warning you, my updates are going to be much slower from now on. I'm so sorry😭❤️

I know the season finale is next but I will definitely try my absolute best to finish them in time but the only day I get to write now is literally Sunday since its my only day off 💔i said it once, and I’ll say it again I HATE ADULTING

Alright, enough of my rambling. I hope you guys enjoy it!! <3

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Joliet, Illinois

Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ was blasting through the Impala’s deck as Dean drove. His phone rang and he instantly picked it up upon seeing Y/N’s contact. “Yeah?” Dean answered, “There’s a cop car outside” Y/N whispered into the phone that was on speaker, currently holed up in her motel room with Sam and Jo.

She slightly creased the curtain, standing at the window with a worried expression. “You think it’s for us?” Dean asked. “We don't know” Sam responded, moving from his bed where he and Jo sat to speak into the phone next to Y/N. “I don’t see how it could be for you guys. You ditched the plates, the credit cards.” Jo chimed in. Sam and Y/N let out a breath of relief when the cop car drove away.

“They’re leaving. False alarm” Y/N told Dean as Sam moved back to his bed. “See. There's nothing to worry about, sweetheart” Dean assured her. “Yeah, being fugitives is a fucking dance party” Y/N sassed, pacing the room. Sam snorted at her humor in agreement as he flipped through the books on his bed along with Jo. They were currently hunting a Djinn.

“Hey, chicks dig the danger vibe.” Dean chuckled, “Isn’t that right, Jo? You can’t tell me knowing Sammy is a wanted man isn’t getting your knickers in a twist” Dean’s amused voice boomed through the speaker. Jo blushed and flipped him off even though she knew he couldn’t see her before she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t talk about my knickers, prick!” She retorted as Y/N buckled over in laughter. “That’s not exactly a no, asshole” Dean teased, hearing Y/N’s laugh in the background. Sam threw himself down on his bed, covering his face with a pillow and groaned. “I can’t listen to this,” he complained in a muffled tone.

“Leave the lovebirds alone” Y/N joked after sobering up from her laughter, this made Jo toss a pillow at her as Sam groaned again. Y/N quickly dodged it, blowing Jo a playful kiss. “You got anything?” Y/N asked, changing the subject. “Are you kidding me? How could I? You got me sitting through, like, 50 square miles of real estate here” Dean sassed, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Well that’s where all the victims disappeared” Y/N pointed out as Sam finally uncovered his face and returned to flipping through his books. “Yeah, well. I got diddly squat. What about you guys?” Dean asked, Y/N looked over at Sam hopefully. He shrugged before gesturing for her to hand him the phone. She did just that.

“We got just one thing. I’m pretty sure of it now. We’re hunting a Djinn” Sam told Dean. “A fucking genie?” Dean cackled, “Yeah.” Sam nodded as Jo tossed her feet up on his lap and Y/N dug through her bag to get her cigarettes. “So what? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?” Dean mused as Y/N lit her cigarette.

“We don’t know. I guess they’re powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants” Jo chimed in as Sam ran his hands up and down her shins. “Yeah, I mean, djinn have been feeding off of people for centuries. They’re all over the Koran” Sam added as Y/N propped herself up on the window still. “My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn’t she?” Dean muttered.

“Damn straight. Way hotter than that Bewitched chick” Y/N agreed from across the room. Sam scoffed in annoyance as Jo rolled her eyes, the two shooting Y/N a judgemental look. “Are you two even listening to me?” Sam chastised Dean and Y/N. The psychic pursed her lips, trying to hide her amused smile as she took a drag from her cigarette.

“Ahem. Yeah. So where do the djinns lair up?” Dean asked, clearing his throat. “Ruin, usually. The bigger, the better. More places to hide” Sam explained to him. “Yeah. I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I’m gonna go check it out” Dean told them. Sam’s hands paused on Jo’s shin as he and Y/N’s eyes widened with panic.

Y/N quickly crushed her cigarette in her ashtray, darting over to snatch the phone from Sam. “Are you stupid?! Come pick us up first” Y/N said firmly, “Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around” Dean assured her. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unsure look as Dean hung up the phone.

Y/N sighed heavily, stuffing her phone into her pocket. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” Sam muttered, worry plastered on his face, “Me too” Y/N agreed.

-

Meanwhile, Dean pulled in-front of the old warehouse. A storm was coming as the thunder clapped. He abruptly exited the Impala, shutting the door as he took out his flashlight. Dean clicked on his flashlight, shining it around the dark surroundings before heading towards the building.

The large door on the front of the building was already open, slightly creaking as it rocked a bit back and forth thanks to the wind. Dean stepped in, immediately noticing all the cobwebs and piles of dirt and sand everywhere. He glanced around with his flashlight, noticing the piles of clothing lying among the debris, and the sound of footsteps made his ears perk up.

He immediately clutched his knife dipped in lamb’s blood, clenching his jaw. Dean stepped closer to the sound of the footsteps, his footsteps light and his ears on high alert. The footsteps continued, and Dean felt his heartbeat start thumping in his ears as the dread started to fill his stomach.

Suddenly, the djinn lunged out from behind a pile of clothes. It was a flash, one moment Dean was simply walking and the next his back was slammed backwards against a wall. The back of his head stung and he was briefly disoriented, dropping his knife as white spots danced in his vision.

Dean grunted as the Djinn’s hand gripped his throat, trying to fight the monster off. The Djinn’s eyes flashed a dark shade of blue, along with his hand. Dean struggled and grunted as the Djinn pressed his glowing tatted hand to his forehead, the hunter’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fell in a sleep-like state.

____________________________________________

Dean’s Dream World

Lawrence, Kansas

Dean gasped awake in the middle of the night to thunder clapping. His eyes wide as he struggled for breath. He found himself in an unfamiliar bed with a naked woman next to him. He tilted his head in confusion as he leaned down to see who the woman was, the last thing he remembered was getting attacked by the Djinn.

Dean’s jaw plummeted to the ground when it turned out the woman next to him was Y/N, a blanket lazily draped over her chest, her back facing him. Dean began to panic instantly, wondering how in the fuck he ended up in bed…naked…next to Y/N fucking L/N.

His eyes drifted down to her lower back to see her anti possession tattoo was not there. His heart was in his ass at this point.

He sat up quickly, his eyes wide as the realization of the situation hit him. He put his hand up to his head and groaned. He glanced at Y/N’s sleeping form and swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw her eyes were shut. “Motherfucker” He mumbled, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

4:32 A.M. He slowly removed the covers, silently standing up and grabbing his jeans off ground and quickly got dressed.

-

Now fully dressed, Dean exited the bedroom, strolling around the unfamiliar house. Not in any way used to the environment. He had no idea what the hell was going on. He switched on a light and did what his mind instantly told him to do. He called his little brother.

“Dean?” Sam answered, confused as to why his brother was calling him at this ungodly hour. “Sam?” Dean whispered in relief, trying to keep his voice at bay. “What’s going on?” Sam asked, concerned. “I don’t know where the fuck I am man” Dean told him. “What? What happened?” Sam gasped, now worried.

“Well, the uh, the djinn. It attacked me” Dean told him, running his hand over his face. “The gin? You’re drinking gin?” Sam’s brows furrowed. “No, dumbass. The djinn! The scary creature, remember?” Dean exclaimed lowly. “It put its hand on me and then I woke up in bed next to Y/N!!” Dean explained, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“You mean your fiancée?” Sam snorted. Dean’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped to the ground in surprise. “My WHAT!?” He exclaimed, eyes going even wider if possible. “My fiancée? When the fuck did that happen” He repeated, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Dean, you’re drunk. You’re drunk dialing me” Sam shook his head as he laughed. “No, I am not drunk! Quit fucking around!!” Dean exclaimed lowly, “Look. It’s late. Alright? Just get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Sam brushed it off, instructing his brother to sleep it off. “Wait. Sam! Sam!!” Dean gritted his teeth but the line went dead.

-

Palo Alto, California

Sam chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he sighed deeply before shutting his Criminal Law and Procedure book.

-

Lawrence, Kansas

Y/N heard Dean arguing and slowly awoke, eyes wide with confusion as she sat up and looked around. She realized Dean wasn’t in the bed with her anymore and her stomach dropped. She glanced at the bathroom, it was quiet so he couldn’t be in there. She then saw a faint light coming from the hallway.

Outside, Dean groaned as he looked around nervously. He quickly stuffed his phone into his pocket, his eyes landing on a stack of mail that was placed neatly ontop of the dining room table. His eyes widened again when he picked it up to see, ‘Y/N L/N. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ written on the first letter.

Inside their shared room, Y/N pulled the covers off her body before wrapping her light blue robe around her and slowly padded out into the hall, peering into the kitchen to see Dean rifling through mail.

“Lawrence?” Dean muttered to himself, sifting through the mail. ‘Dean Winchester. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ was written on the next letter. “What the fuck????” Dean mumbled, his heart stopped when a sleepy voice behind him said. “Charming?” He spun around to see Y/N, clutching her robe to her chest.

“What are you doing up?” Her soft voice of concern honeyed his ears. “Hey…Y/N” Dean said sheepishly as his ‘fiancée’ approached him. His heart beating out of his chest. “Y/N. I just- uh-” Dean stammered, “Oh, you can’t sleep, huh?” She cut him off in a sultry tone, running her hands over his chest. His eyes glanced down at his left hand to see a very familiar ring placed neatly on her ring finger.

The ring his father gave him the day he died belonged to his mother. Sam was indeed not lying when he said that Y/N was his fiancée. Dean’s breath got caught in his throat at Y/N’s touch and the tone in her volume. “Yeah,” Dean chuckled nervously. “Well, why don’t you come back to bed and let’s see if I can do anything to help?” Y/N suggested, her voice low as she snaked her arms around his neck.

Dean shivered involuntarily when Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt his whole body stiffen as her fingers traced the nape of his neck. His cheeks began to heat up as his eyes looked down at her, the blue robe she was wearing hugged her body perfectly. The low tone of her voice sent a small jolt down to the pit of his stomach.

“Well- um- Princess- ” He mumbled nervously as he tried to make an excuse. He didn’t get a chance to say anything again when she attached her lips to his. Dean’s eyes widened as Y/N’s lips crashed onto his own. He let out a small gasp of surprise against her mouth at her sudden movement.

His brain shut down as his hands automatically moved to grab her waist. Dean shut his eyes, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel of her lips finally against his. But it didn’t feel right. It felt off, he knew the Djinn had something to do with this but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it since the love of his life, the woman he believed didn’t him love back, Y/N fucking L/N’s tongue was down his throat.

The kiss deepened as she parted her lips for him and slowly began to pull him back towards the bedroom. Dean’s brain was screaming to stop. This wasn’t what he wanted, but the feel of her lips against his. The way her tongue was exploring his mouth. It was driving him crazy. And he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, moving against hers. He moaned low, the sound getting muffled by the kiss. He backed her up against the wall of the hallway, pinning her there with his body.

SNAP OUT OF IT WINCHESTER!

“No, no. Stop” Dean whined, forcefully peeling himself away from her. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t have sex with her. As much as he wanted to, so fucking badly. He couldn’t do it. Not like this.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and her smile faded from her face at his words. “Huh?” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned her back against the wall and tilted her neck to look up at him. “Why?” She asked confused as he ran hand through his hair, putting a decent amount of distance between y/n and him.

She stepped closer to him again, placing her hands on his chest. “C’mon baby.” She whispered in a seductive tone, a small smirk on her lips, “What’s wrong? You’re not one to deny sex” She asked concerned. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as she spoke, his breathing becoming a bit more labored.

“Y/N, I- ” He began, his mind racing to find words to explain the situation. But then Y/N pressed chest to his, her palms pressing into his chest. Dean’s mind immediately went blank as she looked up at him with those damn eyes. That damn look is gonna kill him. “I’m just tired, sweetheart” Dean lied fluidly, praying she’ll take the bait.

Y/N’s expression softened a bit as she stared up at him. She could tell it was a lie, by his facial expressions, but she didn’t push him for answers. “Oh, baby” She said tenderly, her hand moving up to caress his cheek. “Why don’t you come back to bed then. I’ll just hold you. How does that sound?” She asked, her voice sweet as honey.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat as she placed her hand on his cheek. Getting held by Y/N didn't sound like a bad idea right about now. His eyes flicked down to her lips, wanting to kiss her again.

God, it’d be so easy.

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, leaning his head against hers. “You go ahead, I’m right behind you” He whispered. Dean wanted this to be real, he was praying it was. Y/N’s lips curled into a soft smile at his reply. She brushed her thumb over his cheek before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead softly.

“Alright, don’t take too long” She whispered, patting his shoulder before making her way back to the bedroom. At the doorway, she gave him one last glance before heading back into the bedroom.

Dean groaned under his breath as he watched her disappear into the room. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Dean’s mind was racing. This was all wrong. How the hell did he end up naked in bed with his friend who he was secretly in love with but also his supposed ‘fiancée’?

This was all some sick game the djinn was playing with him. Dean knew they possibly granted wishes, it was no secret that Dean wished for y/n to be his…could it be? Could the Djinn have actually given him what he desperately wanted? Even though he never said it out loud, is it possible the Djinn knew somehow?

Dean began to investigate the house, peering around the living room. He took in the pictures of him and y/n that were placed neatly around the room. Pictures of them on vacation with y/n wearing a big floppy hat, pink two piece bikini and Dean in a matching white shirt with pink swim trunks on.

Dean’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest as he picked up a photo of him and y/n at a beach. It was summer, both of them were soaked, and both was wearing bright smiles with shades on. Dean’s hand trembled as he observed the picture.

He set it down before walking over to the bookshelf, he let his fingers brush over the spines of each book. He was trying to look for a clue, anything to tell him this wasn’t real.

He went back to looking at the pictures. A small smile gracing his face when his eyes landed on a frame that held a picture of the two hugging. Y/N had a big grin on her face, holding out her hand to the camera, showcasing her engagement ring while Dean’s eyes were trapped on her. The starstruck gaze he had on her in the picture was oozing with love and admiration. The two seemed to be at a concert in the picture.

Dean felt his heart swell as he took in the picture. He had no recollection of any of these memories. Curiosity got the best of him, so he turned the picture frame around and took the picture out. Written on the back was ‘Bon Jovi, Nashville Tennesse. February 14th, 2006. She said yes!’ In his handwriting.

His heart leaped to his throat again as he read the writing. This must be when he proposed to her. He sat down on the couch, a wave of emotions washed over him. His fingers trembled as he stared down at the picture in his hand.

Dean’s eyes scanned the room once again, his eyes landing on a particular picture. He thought he was gonna cry upon seeing it, his entire world stopped. Dean Winchester dropped the picture frame, the glass shattering on the ground and instantly left the house.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the Winchester residence, the L/N residence right across from theirs. Both houses were still intact, the L/N residence not burnt to a crisp. Dean shakily stepped out of the Impala, shutting the door behind him.

He walked up the porch and began banging on the door harshly, ringing the bell a few times until the light came on outside. The door opened to reveal a very alive and well Mary Winchester, a worried expression etched on her face. “Dean?” She said softly, sleep potent in her voice, clutching her robe to her chest.

Dean's eyes widened, tears welling up at his emerald irises. “Mom?” Dean gasped, “What are you doing here? Are you alright?” Mary asked her son, concerned. Dean gulped, unsure of how to feel at this exact moment. “I don’t know” He croaked. “Well, come inside” Mary ushered him inside. His body was stiff, still in shock but he managed to pull himself inside.

“Y/N just called and said you took off all of a sudden” Mary said as she shut the door behind her. “Y/N? Right…” Dean muttered, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from his mother. His very alive mother. “Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you and Mrs. L/N always tell me when you put me to bed?” Dean asked as he swallowed hard, he wanted this to be real.

Mary’s brows furrowed in confusion as she folded her arms across her chest, “Dean, I don’t understand-” She was cut off, “Just answer the question” Dean snapped. His mothers eyes softened, “We told you angels were watching over you” Mary answered, Dean felt as though he was about to break down into pieces.

“I don’t believe it” Dean almost sobbed before pulling his mother into a tight hug. Mary grunted in surprise as her son’s strong arms engulfed her. Confused from the random show of appreciation, “Honey, you’re scaring me” The motherly tone in her voice echoed through his ears as she gently rubbed his back. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t think that wishes can- can really-?” Dean stammered, his words getting lost in his throat. “What?” Mary asked confused, “Forget it” Dean smiled, pulling his mother into a hug again that he longed for since he was a little boy. “Forget it. I’m just, uh— I’m happy to see you, that’s all” Dean held back his tears as he buried his face in his mother’s hair.

His brows creased, his breath constricting in his throat as he melted into the embrace before pulling away, “You're beautiful” Dean chuckled tearfully before pulling away. “What?” Mary gasped confused. The padding of footsteps made Dean’s ears perk up, his head swung around to see M/N, squinting her sleepy eyes at him.

F/N wasn’t in town, he was coming back tomorrow and M/N never liked staying alone in her house. So, it became tradition whenever either of their husbands went out of town, M/N and Mary would sleep in each other's guest room. Clutching her own robe to her chest, “Dean, what are you doing here?” Y/N’s mom asked him, equally confused.

“I-uh” Dean started, his words caught in his tongue again as he saw Y/N’s mom. Her hair was tousled, her eyes were tired and squinty from being dragged out of a dead sleep. “Mrs. L/N!?” Dean gasped, now engulfing his soon to be mother-in-law in a tight hug.

She was alive. His mother was alive. It was all surreal.

M/N chuckled and patted his back as she returned the hug with her own. Mary just stared at the two with a slight smile on her face. “It’s great to see you too, hun. But why are you here, now of all times?” She asked as she pulled a little away to look up at him.

“Uh- I uh- just missed you guys” Y/N’s mother chuckled at his words and pinched his cheek. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” She teased, her lips curving into a small smile. “Did Y/N kick you out of the house again?”

Dean’s smile faltered slightly. He felt on the verge of tears again, the only thing keeping him grounded was the feel of M/N in his arms. Just the mention of Y/N set him off again. This time his lips started to tremble when he spoke.

“No- uh- I just-” He began but his voice was cracking. M/N could sense he was on the verge of tears and gently caressed his face. “Okay, sweetie calm down. You’re alright” She whispered in a motherly tone.

Dean felt his bottom lip tremble again. He hasn’t been comforted like this since he was four. He leaned into the comfort of his future mother-in-law. His eyes fluttered closed as M/N’s fingers gently touched his skin, he could practically hear her say ‘You’re okay, baby’.

“I’m fine,” Dean assured her shakily, pulling away from her gently. A broad smile on his face as he cleared his throat, wiping his mouth. His eyes scanned the room, staring at the picture frames that were propped up all about. “Hey, when I was- when I was young, was there ever a fire here? Or at your house?” Dean asked them.

Both women shared a confused look, “No. Never” Mary told him as Dean walked around the room. He saw a few pictures of both their families.

Of him and Sam as kids with their parents, seemingly on vacation.

One of Sam and Y/N, they looked to be in their teens, smashing cake in each other’s faces.

Another of Sam and Y/N wearing a graduation cap and gown, both holding up high school diplomas, Dean wasn't in this picture.

And another of Dean and Y/N, he was wearing a light colored dress shirt, dark jeans. His arm wrapped around Y/N, grins spread across their faces as he wore her graduation cap. This time, Y/N was holding up her degree.

A few more were framed of Sam, Dean and Y/N going to prom. Looking almost exactly like the ones they took years ago.

There was another one of the trio sitting on a couch, their arms folded across their chests and Y/N was sitting in the middle of the boys. It reminded Dean of a picture Bobby made their take years ago as teenagers.

There were more of Y/N and her parents, along with some of all three kids when they were young and another unfamiliar little girl who looked quite similar to Y/N with F/N and M/N. Dean tilted his head in confusion but brushed it off.

Dean’s heart swelled as he looked at the pictures, “I guess I was wrong” Dean mumbled, his eyes widened when his eyes landed on a picture of F/N and John, wielding softball bats, “Dad and Mr. L/N are on a softball team” Dean gasped. He turned to Mary and M/N who seemed to be still confused before clearing his throat.

“Their softball team. That’s funny to me” He covered up his stammering as he took in the picture. The idea of either men on a softball team was wild to him. Mary’s eyes landed on the ground as a sympathetic look took over M/N’s face. “He loved that stupid team” Mary mumbled, M/N noticed her friend’s look of heartbreak and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Dean’s face dropped, his eyes snapping back to his mother. “Dad’s dead?” Dean asked, both Mary and M/N tilted their head at him from his question. Dean quickly recuperated, “And the thing that killed him was a-” He tried to find out. “A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that” M/N said, shaking her head at him as tears welled up in Mary’s eyes.

As much as hearing his father was dead hurt him, Dean was happy to hear that his father didn’t go out the way he originally, “And F/N?” He asked M/N hopefully, “Out of town, you know that, it’s why M/N is here” Mary said, furrowing her eyebrows at her son. Dean nodded sheepishly before saying, “That’s great”

“Excuse me?” Mary gasped, Dean’s eyes widened when he realized how his words must’ve sounded. “That- that’s great. That he went peacefully, I mean it- and F/N fine….it’s sure beats the alternative” He said softly, placing the photo back down. Mary and M/N shared a knowing look, “You’ve been drinking” Mary pointed out.

“No, I haven’t. Mom” Dean sighed, assuring her. M/N nodded, not wanting to press anymore. “I’m just gonna call Y/N and have her come pick you up, okay?” M/N said calmly, taking her hand off of Mary’s shoulder to pick up the landline. “Wait. No. No, don’t do-” Dean quickly stopped her, holding her hand gently to place the landline back down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that” He begged, taking a proper look at her. “I wanna stay here” Dean told them, their faces contorted in confusion again. “Why?” Mary asked. “Because. I-i- I miss the place” Dean sheepishly lied. Mary and M/N shared a look again, both confused at what the hell was going on.

“It’s okay. You two go to bed, okay?” Dean assured them, moving to sit on the couch as he continued to scan the place with his eyes. Mary walked over to her son, placing a gentle hand on his face. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked him, the maternal tone potent. Dean’s heart swelled, his eyes softening. “I think so” He croaked, holding back tears again.

“Okay” Mary said sweetly, placing a kiss on his forehead. Dean leaned into the touch and the kiss, still trying not to cry. Mary pulled away and gave her son a small smile, “We’ll be in our rooms if you need us. I love you” The mother told him. M/N nodded in agreement as she and Mary turned to slowly walk out of the room.

“Me too,” Dean said softly. “I’ll get you a blanket” M/N told him gently. “Thanks” Dean croaked out, his voice low as he heard their footsteps fade away. He let out a shaky breath as his head fell into his hands.

He let himself take in a moment to process everything. Seeing his mother and m/n alive again, seeing them full of light and life again. Hearing that his father passed peacefully. Knowing that F/N was alive and well himself. This was the life he always longed for. The life he always secretly wanted.

Dean exhaled another shaky breath. ‘You’re okay. They’re all okay’ He assured himself, wiping his mouth as a tear rolled down his cheek. But it didn’t feel right, that little voice at the back of his head was telling him that this is not what he thinks it is. Not what he wants it to be.

He looked up when he heard footsteps re-enter the room, his eyes landing on Y/N’s mom as she walked toward him with a blanket in her hands.

She stopped at the edge of the couch before she gently laid the blanket over him. Dean’s body tensed as he felt the fabric being pulled over his lap. A feeling he hasn’t experienced for a very long time. M/N seemed to notice his tenseness, her eyebrows slightly furrowing, “What’s wrong?” She gently asked.

“Nothing” Dean replied, his eyes not leaving the blanket that rested against his legs. “Just tired” He muttered, shifting his body so he laid down as he leaned against the pillows. M/N gave him a soft smile. “I know that” She said softly before leaning down and placing a kiss on his temple.

Dean melted at the feeling on his skin again, closing his eyes and relishing the comfort he got from this simple action. It’s a feeling he always craved but never got. M/N gently pushed his hair away and gave his cheek an affectionate pinch. “Get some rest, honey, okay?” The woman told him gently.

Dean opened his eyes and met M/N’s loving stare, fighting the urge to cry again. “I will” He mumbled, a lump in his throat slowly forming. M/N smiled and gave him one last pat to the cheek before she pulled away, turning on her heel to head down the hall to the guest room. leaving him alone in the living room.

The second she was gone, a soft “Fuck” escaped his lips as a tear rolled down his cheek again. Dean allowed himself to succumb to the comfort, his mind finally stopped racing, the darkness of a peaceful sleep taking him over.

-

The next morning, Dean woke up on the couch. He shot up from his position after his eyes fluttered open.

It was real? It wasn’t a dream? What the fuck is going on?

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared at the picture frames again, his heart still aching from the comfort he’d received. He shook his head. “No. Something’s not right” He whispered to himself, his eyes landing back on the picture of him and Y/N on prom night.

He did the only thing he could think to do in a moment like this. He called his little brother. Dean fished his phone out of his pocket, dialing in Sam’s number but it went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I can’t come to the phone-” He shut his phone, taking a deep breath.

He had to figure out what the fuck was going on, what this djinn did to him, or gave him.

____________________________________________

“Well I don’t think I’ve seen you in my class before” The professor said to Dean, leaning back in his chair. Dean sat across from the professor in his office, immediately going to the Lawrence local college for any answers on this Djinn. “You kidding me? I love your lectures. You- you make learning fun” Dean chuckled, pointing to the teacher who chuckled in response.

“So, what can I do for you?” The Professor asked. “What can you tell me about djinns?” Dean asked, clasping his hands in front of him as he leaned into his chair.

-

Now infront of several books filled with lore, “Well, a lot of Muslims believe the djinn are very real. They’re me times in the Koran” The Professor explained, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, i know. Get to the wish part” Dean said impatiently. “What about it?” The professor furrowed his brows. “Do you think they could really do it?” Dean asked.

The professor looked baffled, “Uh…no. No, I don't think they can really do it. But, you understand that these are mythic creatures?” The Professor pointed out. “Yeah. No, I know, I know. But, uh, I mean, in the stories” Dean clarified. “You know, say you had a wish, uh-” He cleared his throat, gulping before continuing.

“-but you never even said it out loud. You know, like that- uh. Some loved ones never died or something awful never happened. Or…uh...the girl you love starts loving you back? Is it possible?” Dean asked, swallowing harshly. “Supposedly, yes” The Professor shrugged. “I mean, they have godlike power. They can Alter reality however they want. Past, present, future” The Professor explained.

“Why would the djinn do it?” Dean queried, leaning down to look at the books as the Professor eyed him suspiciously. “What, self defense? Or maybe it’s not really evil” Dean muttered, hoping that he could stay in this reality. This beautiful, dreamlike reality. “Son?” The Professor asked, concerned. “Hmm?” Dean hummed.

“You been drinking?” The Professor questioned, his brows raised. Dean had to stop himself from laughing, “Everybody keeps asking me that, but, uh, no” He assured him with a cheeky smile.

-

Dean was now outside the college, opening the trunk to the Impala. He snorted upon opening it when his eyes landed on a couple of old magazines and trash in the trunk. “Well, who would’ve thought, Baby? We’re civilians” He chuckled, shutting the trunk.

Dean felt as though someone was watching him, so he looked across the street to see a young girl, looking almost terrified yet calm, staring right back at him. Dean looked shocked and confused as to why this young girl kept her eyes trained on him. Assuming she could be in trouble, he began to approach her.

He moved to walk across the road without looking at both sides and almost got hit by a red pick up. The tired screeching on the road as the driver hit the brakes. The driver beeped their horn and yelled inaudible curses at him as he stood in the middle of the road.

“Ah, sorry” He apologized, holding up his hands apologetically before turning his eyes back to the little girl, only to see she was now gone. Nowhere in sight. Dean felt something off in his stomach as he walked away.

____________________________________________

Now back at the Winchester household, Dean greedily and contently ate a sandwich prepared by his mom. He leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to relish the feeling of a home cooked meal. One of Mary’s favorites to make him, a chicken salad sandwich with extra pickle. A loud moan of content left his throat.

“Mmm. This is the best sandwich ever!” He exclaimed, his mouth filled with food. Mary chuckled lightly from where she was at the sink. “Thank you. M/N made you a pie before she left for the airport to pick up F/N. I’ll get you some”

“Pie?” Dean mumbled, perking up at the mention of it. He hadn’t had M/N’s pie in years, the only person who could almost replicate her recipe was Y/N. And he loved her pie but nothing could compare to M/N’s pie. Mary hummed in response and disappeared into the other room for a short moment.

He waited anxiously in his seat, his eyes bouncing back towards the doorway every other second, waiting for the woman to reappear with the pie. “I tried to get ahold of Sam earlier. Where-? Where is he?” Dean asked through a mouth full of food as he chewed.

“Oh, he’ll be here soon. M/N is picking him up too” Mary replied, setting down a plate of warm apple pie in front of Dean. “Good. Thanks mom, I’m dying to see him” He replied, picking up a fork and dug into the pie immediately. A small hum of contentment escaped his throat.

His eyes fluttered shut, his lips curled into a smile, “Sweetie, uh, don’t get me wrong.” Mary began, sitting across from Dean at the dining table. “I am thrilled you’re hanging out here all of a sudden” Mary said softly, placing her hand on Dean's shoulder before gently brushing her son's face. A content smile spread across Dean’s face, his cheeks still stuffed with pie as she said this.

“But, uh, shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked. “Work?” Dean’s face dropped. “At the garage” Mary said as if it were obvious. “Right. The garage. That’s where I work.” Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. I’ve got. the day off” Dean said as he took another heaped forkful of pie into his mouth. “Mmm” He moaned as his mother chuckled.

“That’s good. The boss man deserves a day off with how hard you work” Mary said. “Bossman?” Dean mumbled again, confused. “Yeah” Mary chuckled. “The one you and F/N own after your dad left his shares to you in his will?” Mary stated as if he was supposed to know this. Which he was, but obviously, Dean was confused.

A nervous laugh escaped his throat as he tried to compose himself, attempting to act as normal as possible. Mary tilted her head when she saw his bewildered look again before continuing, “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?” She questioned a second time, her hand still gently resting on her son's face.

A lump formed in his throat as he looked at her. A feeling welling up in his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure, mom” He mumbled, forcing a smile. Mary looked worried for her son, wondering if he started drinking frequently again. But she nodded before pulling away, not wanting to rile him up as his eyes landed on the lawn outside the window. Picking up his pie, Dean padded over to the window.

He leaned down to get a better look before saying, “That lawn looks like it could use some mowing” Dean said excitedly as he stuffed his piehole with…..pie. Mary looked surprised at this, “You wanna mow the lawn?” She asked, amused. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to mow the lawn” Dean said enthusiastically like a kid on Christmas.

“Knock yourself out. I think you’d never mowed a lawn in your life” She snorted, sipping her coffee. Dean shrugged at her words but ignored them, he was just so excited to mow a lawn. The domestication of it all was heartwarming for him.

-

Dean reeled the chain back of the lawn mower, happily pushing the machine around the grass. He struggled a bit but quickly got the hang of it. He noticed a neighbor across the street throwing out trash, so he happily waved to the man, who awkwardly waved back at him.

Dean didn’t think too much of it, instead. He continued mowing the lawn.

-

After finishing up the yard work, Dean sat contently, relaxing on the steps to the porch of his mom’s house. A beer in his hand, He took a swig, “Ahhh” he breathed out. He let his head roll back, his eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath, letting his eyes travel back to the lawn, the sweat on his forehead glistening as it hit the setting sunlight.

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up, his eyes darted back towards the driveway. His eyes widened when he saw a car pull into the driveway, someone he believed to have been gone appeared. “I don’t believe it” Dean gasped as M/N pulled up with Jessica, Sam, and F/N. Jessica was alive and well.

Dean instantly pulled Jess into a tight hug, grunting as the college student gasped. “Jessica,” Dean said with relief. “Good to see you too, Dean” Jessica chuckled awkwardly, wiggling in his tight grip. “You’re okay” Dean mumbled in her hair. “Dean. Can’t breathe” Jessica groaned, causing Dean to finally let go.

Sam looked a bit confused at his brother, who now had a huge smile on his face, which was pretty rare when it came to him. Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N’s father, who was helping Sam unload the trunk. An almost tearstrucken expression was on Dean’s face, “F/N” Dean pulled him into a bone crushing hug as M/N smiled at the affection Dean displayed.

The two never had that since they were always at each other’s throats, oppositely contrasting real life. F/N’s eyes widened in disbelief and surprise at the hug. He instantly brushed him off, leading Dean to be confused. “It’s Mr. L/N to you, son,” He said sternly.

Dean’s smile faded as he looked at Y/N’s dad, slightly shocked. He took a step back, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle as he muttered an apology, “Right. Sorry, Mr. L/N” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, shooting a glance at Sam who shrugged in response.

M/N’s smile dropped at his rude response, she smacked her husband on his arm roughly. “Be nice!” She chastised him as Sam and Jessica shared an amused look. F/N winced and rubbed his arm where his wife smacked him before he let out a laugh, “Hey! I was nice” He protested. The corners of Dean’s mouth curled into a smile as he shoved his free hand in his pocket.

M/N rolled her eyes in response at her husband’s usual stern behavior to Dean before turning to him. “Tell your mom we’ll be right over, honey. We’re just gonna put his stuff away” M/N said gently to Dean, pointing to their house across the street before patting his cheek.

“Of course” Dean smiled, running a hand through his short cut hair. “See y’all in a minute” He called over his shoulder, watching as the married couple walked across the street with the luggage. M/N was firmly pointing at her husband for being rude while he said lowly, “What’d I do? I was nice” F/N protested.

But M/N wasn’t having any of it, “You were rude, and you know you were. You’re always like this with the boy” M/N said, shaking her head at her husband. Dean’s brows furrowed, confused as to why Y/N’s father seemed to not like him. But he brushed it off, shaking the thought.

“Sammy, look at you!” Dean then turned to his little brother, patting him on his shoulder. “You’re with Jessica, that's- I don’t believe it” Dean chuckled as Sam smiled. “Yeah” Sam said a little awkwardly. “Where'd you guys come from?” Dean asked the crew. “We just flew in from California” Sam Said as if Dean was supposed to know that.

“California! Stanford, huh? Law school, I bet” Dean exclaimed excitedly. Sam slightly scoffed at his enthusiasm, “I see you started off Mom’s birthday with a bang, as usual” Sam said with a bit of judgment, gesturing to his beer. Dean blinked twice, “Wait, Mom’s birthday. That’s- That’s today?” Dean stuttered.

Sam raised his brows at his brother, “Yeah. Yeah, Dean. That’s today. That’s why we’re here. Don’t tell me you forgot” Sam shook his head at him in disapproval. Dean gulped slightly, feeling guilty for not knowing, even though there was no way he could’ve even known.

____________________________________________

Later that night, the Winchester’s and L/N’s were dining at quite an exquisite restaurant for Mary’s birthday. The table was filled with chatter and laughter, “Wow, that- that looks awesome” Dean said sarcastically with a grimace as the waiter set down his food, which was practically asparagus on a stick. The table erupted in laughter as Y/N gently placed her hand on her fiancé’s thigh.

“Alright. To Mom, Happy Birthday” Sam put up his wine in a toast, “Happy Birthday” Y/N and Jess both said to her as everyone raised their glasses. Mary smiled happily, letting the warm feeling spread through her chest as she thanked her family. Jessica then leaned over to place a kiss on Sam’s lips.

Dean looked at the pair with awe, a warm feeling in his chest, he was beyond relieved to see his little brother happy. Though, he did wonder about Jo. But he put two and two together in his head, realizing that they met Jo on a hunt. So since they have a normal life, they never met.

“I was really worried about you last night” Y/N said softly to him, causing Dean to break his gaze away from the couple. “Oh, I’m- I’m good. I’m really good” Dean assured her, his heart skipping a beat at the feeling of her hand gently caressing his thigh. “Okay” Y/N nodded, though she didn’t believe him, but she decided not to push.

Her eyes flickered down to Dean’s very unappetizing looking food, a coy smile on her face. “Why don’t you say later we get you a cheeseburger and we can watch American Pie on Blu-Ray” Y/N said in a suggestive tone. “Oh God, yes” Dean almost moaned at the thought, causing Y/N to snort in response as lightly bit her lip.

Cheeseburgers and American Pie were code for “food and sex” when it comes to them. But Dean didn’t know that yet.

“How did I end up with such an amazing woman” Dean said with awe. A smile spread across Y/N features as she gently squeezed her fiancé’s thigh. “I’ve just got low standards” She joked. Dean snorted as He looked at her lovingly, a small smile on his face as his eyes roamed her features.

“What?” Y/N asked suddenly as she caught Dean studying her. He shook his head in response as he said softly, “Nothing. Just admiring you, as always” Y/N’s eyes softened at his response before leaning over to place a small gentle kiss on his lips.

F/N narrowed his eyes at his daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law, but said nothing as he glanced over at the young couple, shaking his head slightly as he took a sip of his wine. His wife shot him another stern look, firmly pointing her finger at her husband in a manner that said, ‘Behave’. F/N sighed deeply, giving an almost bored look at his wife before turning back to his food, a grumpy look on his face.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright, Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom’s birthday” Sam began before turning to Jess. “Uh, you wanna tell them?” He asked her. “They’re your family” Jess said shyly, “What? Tell me what?” Mary asked curiously, Sam then lifted Jess’ hand to display her engagement ring.

Dean’s jaw dropped as gasps were heard around the table. “Sam!” He exclaimed, his eyes moving from Jess’ hand to his little brother, shock still written on his features. Y/N placed her hand over her mouth, excitement radiating off of her as Mary and M/N clapped their hands together, a huge smile on their face, “Oh, my God! You’re getting married!” Mary cried, bringing a hand up to her lips.

The older woman instantly got up along with M/N And Y/N. “That’s so wonderful!” Mary exclaimed as she pulled Jess into a hug. “Thank you” Jess smiled as Mary let go. “Congratulations, honey” M/N Said as she hugged the young girl. “Thank you, Mrs. L/N” Jess giggled before turning to Y/N after her mom let her go.

Y/N pulled her into a tight hug as she exclaimed, “We’re both gonna be Winchesters!” A smile spread across Jess’ features as she pulled away, “I know. I’m so excited!” Jess gushed. Y/N pulled back and held Jess’ hands in hers. “Let me see that ring,” She said expectantly.

Jess giggled as she held her hand out before Y/N gently took it, admiring the ring. “It’s so beautiful” Y/N commented, letting go of Jess’s hand and turning to Sam. She gave him a quick thumbs up as Dean got up to give Jess a tight bear hug, lifting her up slightly from the floor as Mary hugged Sam. “I just wish your dad was here” Mary said to her younger son.

“Yeah, me too” Sam said softly to his mother, hugging her tighter before pulling away. Dean then moved to shake his little brother's hand, “Congratulations, Sammy” Dean said sincerely as Sam eyed him weirdly at the term ‘Sammy’. “Thanks,” Sam said gratefully, “I’m really glad you’re happy. Even if it’s not with Jo, I know you loved Jess” Dean’s words spewed out of his mouth without thinking.

Sam raised his eyes at his brother, confusion written on his face, "What are you talking about?” He questioned, "Who’s Jo?" Dean’s mouth slightly went agape when he realized what he said but he didn’t get a chance to clear up his words, due to the girl from earlier that day appearing at the corner of the restaurant.

Dean’s eyes wide fed as he pushed past his brother, immediately rushing over to the girl. He brushed past a few people, his eyes leaving the young girl for a split second, only for her to disappear again, gone into thin air.

Everyone at the table looked at Dean with confusion as he turnt back to them gulping, F/N especially with a look of disapproval aimed in his direction as he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

____________________________________________

The two families were laughing and chattering as they reentered the Winchester residence. “So, Dean, what was all that back at the restaurant?” Sam asked his brother as they walked into the living room, all the ladies were talking amongst themselves as he said. “Oh, I thought I saw someone. I’m sure its nothing” Dean assured him.

“Well, I had a lovely birthday. Thank you” Mary said sincerely to everyone. “Goodnight” Everyone Said in unison as Jess And Y/N blew kisses to their future mother-in-law. Mary smiled as she started to rub her eyes. “Goodnight” She said, blowing kisses to everyone before wrapping her arms around M/N, drawing her in for a tight hug.

“Thank you for baking the cake, it was delicious” Mary said to her best friend with much gratitude. “It was my pleasure as always, Mar” M/N squeezed her back before letting go, moving back to cling to her husband as Mary walked up the stairs. A little yawn left her lips. “I think you and I should hit the hay” F/N chuckled, gently wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist, letting her lean against him.

“Agreed” M/N said, a small smile on her face before turning to her daughter. “Goodnight, baby” M/N said softly. “Goodnight, Mom.” Y/N said as she leaned in to hug her mom, a smile on her face. She then plastered on a fake smile towards her father before awkwardly hugging him.

“Have a great night everyone, love you y/n/n” F/N said to his daughter gently, a bit of despair in his eyes. “You too, daddy” Y/N responded half heartedly. Her dad sighed before shooting Dean one last glare. He then opened his door for his wife, before walking out behind her and shutting the door behind him as Dean smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah, well. I’m beat” Sam said tiredly, “Ready to turn in?” He asked Jess. “Sure” Jess nodded. “Alright, night guys” Sam smiled at everyone, “Goodnight” Y/N muttered But Dean’s face dropped. “Hey, hey. Wait a second, wait a second. Come on, it’s not even 9 o'clock yet.” Dean protested. “Let’s, uh, let’s go have a drink or something” Dean suggested.

Y/N shrugged in agreement, not minding the idea of hanging out with everyone. “Maybe another time,” Sam said, a little irritated. “Come on, man. Look at us. I mean, we both have beautiful women on our arms. We’re both engaged. Let’s go celebrate!” Dean chuckled, smacking Sam on his chest lightly.

A silence fell in the room due to the way Sam was looking at Dean, “Guys, can you excuse us. I just wanna talk to my brother” Sam said to the ladies politely. “Sure. Come on, Y/N” Jess shrugged, gesturing for both her and Y/N to leave. “Thanks,” Sam smiled but Y/N narrowed her eyes at Sam.

“Don’t start, Samuel” She whispered in a warning tone before following Jessica out of the kitchen. Sam raised his hands in defense, “Won’t do anything” He assured her as she, as well as Jess, left the room. Y/N him one last pointed look over her shoulder before shutting the door behind her.

Sam turned to his brother, an irritated look on his face. “Okay, what’s gotten into you?” He questioned. “What? What do you mean?” Dean asked, confused. “I mean, this whole…warm fuzzy ecstasy-trip thing” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. “I’m just happy for you, Sammy,” Dean smiled, patting his brother on his arm. Sam rolled his eyes with a tight smile.

“Yeah. Right. That’s another thing. Since when do you call me Sammy?” Sam scoffed. Dean's brows furrowed, his heart dropping. “Dean, come on. We don’t talk outside of holidays” Sam pointed out. Dean blinked twice in shock, “We don’t?” He asked surprised. “Well, we should. I mean, you’re my brother” Dean chuckled, trying to ignore the tugging pain in his chest.

“You’re my brother?” Sam huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah,” Dean smiled. “You know, that's what you said when you snagged my ATM card. Or when you crashed my car. Or when you bailed on me and Y/N’s high school graduation.” Sam pointed out his multiple mistakes as Dean’s mouth went agape again. “Yeah, that kinda does sound like me,” Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, hey man, I’m sorry about all that-” Dean tried to apologize, stepping closer to Sam but he cut him off and stepped away. “No. Look. It’s alright. I just— you know, I’m not asking you to change. I just, uh….I don’t know. I guess we just don’t really have anything in common. You know?” Sam said, shrugging. Dean felt his heart drop in his chest again.

A lump grew in his throat as Sam moved to walk away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes, we do. Yes, we do” Dean stammered, pulling Sam back. “What?” Sam raised his brows. “Hunting” Dean took a chance. “Hunting? I’ve never been hunting in my life, Dean” Sam scoffed. Dean swallowed harshly, his heart caught in his throat,

“Yeah, well, we should go sometime. Me, you and Y/N. I think you guys would be great at it” Dean said sadly, this made Sam even more confused. “Y/N? We've barely talked since high school since you two hooked up on our prom night” Sam snorted.

Dean’s heart felt like it had been stabbed as Sam’s words sank in. “What? You guys don’t talk?” He asked in disbelief. Sam shook his head, burying his hands in his pockets as he looked at his brother, still confused. “Why not?” Dean asked genuinely, feeling another pang of pain in his chest, he was trying to wrap his head around all the things that had been said tonight.

He thought that he and Y/N were the best of friends, hell, they were practically siblings, so why would they not talk?

“People just…drift” Sam shrugged, eyeing his brother weirdly. “That fucking sucks, you two were like ring on finger” Dean gaped, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, people change,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. A silence fell between them as Dean took in the newly found information, “Get some rest” Sam said softly to his brother before leaving the room. The shock still evident on Dean’s face.

____________________________________________

It was later that night, Dean and Y/N were back at their own house while Dean sat on the couch in the living room. His mind was racing and stuck on that dreadful conversation he had with Sam. His heart was caught in his throat, a sick feeling churning in his stomach at the fact that he and his brother were not close and neither was his brother and the love of his life.

Y/N noticed Dean was a bit in his head as she entered the living room, a sigh escaped her lips as she padded over to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out two beers, she then popped the bottle cap open with a silver ring on her right hand. She then headed back into the living room, offering her fiancé the beer.

Dean’s eyes snapped over to her, his expression softening. “My favorite. I guess you know me pretty well” Dean said softly as he accepted the beer, “Afraid so” Ashe teased, plopping on the couch next to him. “You alright, baby?” Y/N asked gently.

Dean gave her a thin smile before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip of the beverage. The conversation with his brother had really been bugging him. How could they have not been talking? When did they stop talking? And when did Sam and Y/N stop being friends?

“Sammy and I don’t get along. And you guys stopped talking” Dean said, glancing down at the bottle in his hands as Y/N sipped from her own bottle. “Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together and me and Sam sorta just…drifted. It happens, people change. I mean, I just think you dont know each other all that well” Y/N said gently, a small frown on my face.

“And for the record, he doesn't know what he's missing” She added, offering Dean a smile, which he returned. “I could fix things with us. I can make it up to you guys….to everyone” Dean said confidently, nodding. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. “Okay…what's gotten into you lately?” She asked with a small chuckle.

“This isnt gonna make a lick of sense to you, princess. But I kinda feel like I've been given a second chance. And I don’t wanna waste it” Dean said wholeheartedly as he stared at Y/N lovingly. Calling her ‘princess’ felt wrong here to him but he didn’t care, he wanted it to be real so bad. “You're right, it doesn't make any sense. But I’m all in” Y/N chuckled.

Dean grinned at her words as he placed a gentle hand on Y/N's thigh "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are," he said softly, his emerald eyes filled with tenderness. Y/N smiled shyly, a light blush spreading across her cheeks, “You only say that every hour” She teased, taking another sip of her beer. “Not that I’m complaining, it gives me an ego boost” She joked.

Dean chuckled along with Y/N, the sound of her laughter music to his ears. The thought that had crossed his mind earlier in the day resurfaced, prompting him to ask her a question. “Hey, princess,” he began. Y/N looked at him expectantly, curious about what he was going to say. “I gotta ask…why does your dad hate me?” Dean asked, tilting his head a bit.

Y/N let out a sigh, a slight frown on her face as she recalled the strained relationship between her father and fiancé. "It's complicated, babe. My dad's just a bit of a control freak, especially when it comes to me" She explained with a hint of frustration.

Dean looked confused, he was used to F/N being controlling in reality but the man never seemed to hate him before. If anything, he adored Dean. So F/N hating Dean right now was foreign to him. “You know, since that night..” Y/N said lowly, Dean was even more confused now.

"Since what night?" Dean asked, a frown forming on his face as he tried to decipher why F/N’s behavior had drastically changed towards him. Y/N took a deep breath before answering, the memory still a bit raw. “Don’t you remember the night of my prom?” She asked. "Well…not exactly" Dean admitted, trying to recall the event, only to come up blank.

Y/N gave him an incredulous look, “You don't remember?” She asked in surprise, her tone almost sounding hurt. Dean’s heart sank at Y/N’s reaction, he hated the thought that he’d done something to hurt her, but he genuinely had no memory of what took place on prom night, at least in this world.

"Look, I'm sorry, princess," Dean began, moving closer to Y/N and taking her hand in his. "I seriously can't remember a thing about that night. Can you tell me what happened?" He asked gently. “We lost our virginities to each other and Dad caught us a couple weeks later hooking up at a motel, how could you not remember that?”

A mixture of realization and shock washed over Dean as Y/N's words sank in. It all made sense now why her father hated him with a fiery passion. “And then he kicked me out the same night when he said he didn’t approve of our relationship” Y/N further explained, caressing Dean’s hand with her thumb.

"Jesus... no wonder he hates me" Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. It all made perfect sense now. But the memory of that night was still a complete blank for him.

"I personally don’t think that's why he doesn’t like you. I think it's because you proved him wrong” Y/N assured Dean. Dean furrowed his brows, puzzled by Y/N's statement. "Proved him wrong? What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely curious as he rest his beer down on the table. “Jesus, charming. What’s going on with your memory?” Y/N chuckled.

Dean cracked a small sheepish grin, realizing how dense he sounded. "Right, sorry. Go on" he chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze. “After he cut me off from my trust fund and John cut you off from yours. You worked your ass off and put me through college. Dad never thought you had it in you, but I knew you did. He has not choice but to respect you, but Dad being Dad is too prideful to admit it”

Dean’s expression softened as Y/N recounted their history. After what Sam told him, it messed with his head. Realizing he was practically the family fuck-up, the black sheep…it hurt him to say the least. But now knowing that Y/N stood beside him through all he had supposedly done and he did whatever it took to support the love of his life despite getting completely cut off, Dean felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in himself.

He felt like he was worth something, because everyone including God himself knows how Dean Winchester thinks of himself. A proud smile tugged at his lips, his loving gaze never leaving Y/N’s face.

"I'll do whatever it takes” Dean said tenderly, squeezing her hand again. She giggled lightly at this, resting her own beer down besides his, “I know you will, and that's one of the many reasons why I love you” Y/N said softly as she brought her hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, he automatically leaned into her touch, nuzzling into her hand like a kitten.

“And I love you too, more than anything" he replied tenderly, placing a soft kiss on her palm. “Besides, Adrienne was always his golden child” Y/N said with a bitter tone and a scoff as she pulled away. Dean furrowed his brows, confused by the new name she had mentioned. "Who's Adrienne?" he asked quizzically, his curiosity piqued.

“My little sister.” Y/N said as if Dean was supposed to know that, rolling her eyes. His eyes widened in surprise. Y/N had a little sister??? His mind then went back to the little girl in the pictures at his mom’s house, that must've been Adrienne.

“The one who tried to sleep with you last time she was in town” Y/N added bitterly. "It's always been ‘Adrienne this, Adrienne that’ “ she imitated her father's voice. Dean's smile dropped as he processed Y/N's words.

He couldn't recall the interaction with her sister or any prior mention of her, but the idea of anyone trying to come between them made him feel rather possessive.

"She tried to what?! ” Dean exclaimed, a hint of anger in his tone. "Relax, baby” Y/N chuckled as she placed a soothing hand on his chest. "You shut her down pretty quick, if I recall. You drunkenly said I was ‘the one’ and then proceeded to scream your lungs out at her, I think I’m safe” she replied, amused by his reaction.

“It's why you put a ring on it” Y/N teased, gesturing to her engagement ring, admiring it in her hand. Dean smirked as he watched Y/N admiring the ring on her finger. "I knew it would look good on you" he said with a hint of admiration in his voice. Seeing her wear the physical symbol of their commitment filled him with a sense of contentment and belonging.

“I’ll never forget you kneeling down in that stadium while Bon Jovi was playing ‘All About Lovin’ You’ and you asking me to marry you.” Y/N reminisced, resting her head on Dean’s shoulder. A warm smile played on Dean's lips as Y/N recounted the proposal. Even without his memory of it, he could tell it must’ve been special.

The fact that he had chosen such a romantic setting because he was never a huge Bon Jovi fan but Y/N loved the band’s music. The fact that he chose something so close to her heart filled him with a sense of satisfaction. "That sounds like a pretty perfect moment" he said, a hint of longing in his voice.

"You were so nervous" Y/N chuckled. "You kept shaking your hands and your leg kept bouncing up and down," she added, recalling the proposal with a fond look. Dean shook his head with a mock frown, "Shut up" he muttered playfully. “You know….I get it” Dean said softly, tracing circles on her hip with his thumb.

Y/N hummed in response, enjoying the feeling of his touch on her skin. "Get what?" she asked curiously, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. “Why you’re the one,” Dean responded, connecting his eyes with hers, this gaze filled with love and admiration. Y/N felt a warm sensation in her chest as she returned his gaze, his eyes so full of love and tenderness. "Oh, really?” she asked, teasing him a bit.

Dean grinned as he nodded, attaching his lips to hers. Y/N let out a small gasp of surprise, which soon melted into a soft moan as she returned the kiss eagerly. The way he took charge sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, her heart hammering in her chest.

Dean's hand on her hip began to wander, gently caressing her body through the thin fabric of her clothing. His other hand moved to cup her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. There was a voice at the back of his mind that was screaming at him to stop, telling him this wasn’t right as Y/N straddled him.

Dean's mind waged a war with itself, her presence in his lap both tantalizing and guilt-inducing. He wanted her, craved her, and yet he couldn't shake the nagging thoughts that told him it was wrong, Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet.

He pulled back from the kiss, panting lightly as he looked up at Y/N. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen and parted in a gasp. "We gotta stop,” he said quietly, his voice filled with both desire and restraint. Dean brought his lips to her neck, “Mhhmm” Y/N panted, groaning slightly as she rocked her core against his growing erection.

Dean stifled a moan as she rocked against him, his hands on her hips gripping just a bit tighter. "We gotta stop..” he repeated, though his body was clearly at odds with his words. “I know, I know, i've got work” Y/N sighed, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

Dean returned the kiss, his fingers moving to run through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. "You gotta work now?” he asked, his voice thick with desire but also confusion because it was nearly midnight. “I told you, I’ve got the night shifts on Thursday” Y/N responded as she reluctantly peeled herself away from him and headed over to the closet.

Dean’s brows furrowed as he picked up his beer from the table and followed behind her, “You work nights at the uh…” He began as he stepped into the closet to see Y/N with a hanger in her hand, nurse scrubs attached to them, “…hospital.” He finished, an impressed grin on his face. “I’m engaged to a nurse. That is so respectable….and hot” Dean muttered to himself as he eyed Y/N’s ass while taking a sip of his beer.

He wondered to himself why Y/N decided to go into nursing due to the fact she always had a love for music, but Dean shrugged it off.

______________________________________________

Authors Note: Okay soooo, Tumblr told me that my post was too long so I had to split this into two parts.

Part Two Here!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

Police sirens.

There was red and blue flashing against the white of the house, the Curtis brothers all stood outside on the grass, holding onto each other as the police asked questions and checked inside the home.

Just a few moments before, Soda had done a full turn-around and grabbed the things he left at the DX meant for Ponyboy. That poor kitten, nearly abandoned and howling just as loud as Ponyboy was on the phone earlier.

Soda wasn't no snitch, of course he didn't tell the fuzz what had happened to his brother. Ponyboy was sick. That's all they needed to worry about. He really wanted to though. God, if only.

Ponyboy's poor hair. Rebleached, and a mess. Darry and Soda had both looked him over a number of times. The kid was in ruins, looking just as bad at the day he came home from that damn church.

It was a different kind of bad. The type where you could tell he didn't lose someone else, but he lost himself. It tore Soda's heart to shreds seeing him like that all over again.

There wasn't a scratch on him. Not physically, at least. But Soda was being driven crazy over the fact Ponyboy probably just had another traumatic 9 hours added onto his life's story and Soda wasn't even there to do anything.

He should've left work earlier.

The cops finished up around the place, leaving the brothers to clean themselves up. Nothing from the house had been taken. Nothing had been moved. There was minimal signs of someone tampering with the window. A spilled drink on the floor—only water, thankfully.

“We're gonna get you inside and fix you right up, okay Ponyboy?” Darry was holding Ponyboy up, clutching him under his arm like a mother bird using a wing to protect her baby.

Ponyboy was still crying and crying, you would think he'd run out of tears by now. He just blubbered out a real tiny "okay."

Soda had been sobbing too. He hadn't even realized until he felt the tears drop onto his clenched fists.

He didn't notice the pain coming from his fingers digging into his palm either until then. “Christ...” He swore under his breath.

For once, Soda felt stuck. He couldn't run away, he couldn't do anything. He had been talking about running away all day, and this seemed like the one time he couldn't.

He should've punched Mark Jennings. He should've talked to Steve. He should've called Ace and Elisabeth.

But he didn't. He felt so stuck because he was right in the middle of the chaos. Like a wreckless dog in a cage. Snipping one second, whining the next. Begging for some kind of attention.

Soda came back to when he felt the pain in his hands again. He had punched a hole into the wall of the bathroom. He stared hard at his hands.

Darry was yelling something at him, the ringing in his ears making it hard to process anything. He just looked at him.

He felt the tears falling down his cheeks again. Seemed like all he could feel tonight was his own tears and blood.

“Darry...” Soda whispered, his voice warbling as he turned to him. He nearly broke his fucking hand. Both of them, apparently.

“Glory, Soda.” Darry whispered back, grabbing his brother's hands and staring at the blood on his knuckles. Bruises already blooming colors, looking like some kind of sea-sick sunset on the back of his hands.

...How many times had he punched the wall?

In a blink, night time had already passed. He could hardly focus when he was angry, and it left him in a new place again.

Ponyboy was sent to their shared room just a couple hours earlier, he was "off duty" for the rest of the week, Darry named it.

Off duty was just a funny phrase for "being called out sick".

The kitten had made it's way to Ponyboy some way, Soda didn't have any memory of giving it to him. But it was on the bed with both of them.

Soda was hardly able to sleep. He blamed it on the cat, knowing fully well it wasn't. The cat was actually making him more tired, ironically enough.

He had too much stuff on his mind. It was going to drive him crazy trying to sleep after the day he's had. He couldn't be surprised, but he wasn't exactly happy about it either.

“Soda?” Ponyboy interrupted his thoughts with a soft voice, leaning in close to Soda so he could talk easier.

Soda hummed a response, his eyebrows flinching up before relaxing again to let Ponyboy know he was listening. “Yeah, Pone?”

It was real quiet again for a moment, before Ponyboy's voice cracked with an “Are you mad at me?”

He hiccuped, Ponyboy was crying again.

Soda opened his eyes and turned to him. “No. Not one bit, Ponyboy.” He put a hand on Pony's cheek, bumping foreheads with him very delicately. He knew Ponyboy was nauseous, he didn't wanna clunk heads with him and make it worse. “Not at all.”

Ponyboy sniffled. He was still out of it, Soda could see it on his face. God, the poor thing.

“...Is Steve mad at you?” It felt inappropriate to ask, but Ponyboy had better things to worry about than making his brother feel awkward.

Soda stared, head still pressed against Pony's. He kind of shrugged, not really knowing how to reply. “I don't think so.”

“Oh... well. I'm mad at Steve.” Ponyboy nodded, before moving away from being under Soda's hand.

Soda dropped his hand in between their faces, letting it sit there idly. “Oh yeah? Why's that?” He smiled a bit.

Ponyboy rubbed his eyes, immediately regretting the motion and pulling away his own hands from his face with a grimace.

“...Because he's stupid.” He was holding his fists out awkwardly, stretching his fingers and then clasping them again. The feeling of... everything. It was weird to Ponyboy whilst he was high.

Soda giggled. “What? Stevie's real smart. Smarter than me.” He was eyeing Ponyboy's motions, frowning slightly as he recognized the discomfort.

Ponyboy mumbled, sighing. “...Well, maybe in some areas.”

“Oh, c'mon– you ain't supposed to agree with me.” Soda laughed, shoving Ponyboy lightly, before immediately apologizing.

Ponyboy groaned and readjusted again, holding his breath for a second to reduce nausea before he exhaled again. He mumbled something to Soda, his voice was so quiet though, even Soda couldn't hear half of what he said.

Soda just nodded, humming. “I can't stop him from doing whatever he wants. It's not like we're– y'know.”

Ponyboy shook his head. “I know, but...” He placed his hand on the kitten, who had crawled it's way around them both and behind Ponyboy. “I think he kind of wants you to.” He put the kitten between them.

Soda just stared at the kitten, ignoring Ponyboy's eye contact. “...Yeah, I figured.” He sighs. He knew. He just didn't want to admit it himself.

Ponyboy had fallen asleep hours before Soda even got a wink in. Four in the morning, he still had to be up in two hours. His brain was still working up a storm. It was pissing him off at this point.

He did not want to go to work today.

Darry wasn't as merciful to Soda as he was to Ponyboy, unfortunately.

Soda was old enough to make decisions on his own, Darry agreed with that plenty. But he still had to boss Soda around for doing dumb stuff. Even for letting his mind chase itself all night... as if he didn't do the same damn thing.

Darry wrapped up Soda's hands at the kitchen table, tying the bandages around nice and tight before tearing and placing a piece of tape down on the loose end. “Don't go trying to punch nothin' else, you hear me?”

Soda scoffed. “I'm hearin'.” He fidgeted with the bandages, before stopping himself to stare up at Darry.

Darry stared back and smiled. “You gonna be okay today? Or uh, y'gonna be... "tired" again?”

Soda shook his head. “As much as I would love to not be "tired", Darry, I am not in the mood to be...” Soda motioned something awkward, rolling his shoulders and bobbling his head. Myself.

Darry rolled his eyes, he wasn't hearing any of it. “Well. Then, if you can't be—” He pulled the same motion, yourself, “—at least go easy on yourself. Don't tire yourself out more.” He teased, before pulling Soda up out of the chair.

“And, I'll... help keep an eye out for Steve for you, alright? I'll be staying around a little later to help Pony, leavin' around noon. Two-Bit can take over babysittin' by then, if he ain't too drunk that is.”

Soda just nodded, smiling at the nudge at Two-Bit. “Alright...” He stared at the bandages on his hands again as he began to walk around, grabbing up his things.

Soda and Darry both left, Darry dropping off Soda, leaving Soda without a vehicle today. He was alright with it. For now, at least.

Only working on an hour of sleep, if less. This'll be an experience. At least now he didn't have to lie about being sleepy.

Ding ding!

Soda picked up a note left by one of his coworkers, a small complaint about how he left suddenly. Nothing serious. They picked up for him, thank God.

He got himself to work immediately, dragging out some supply boxes and restocking some things. He did some extra work here and there, just to make up for his missed hours.

And then he sat his ass down on that stool. Ready for whatever came at him.

Alright. Let's see how this shit show plays out today.

[biggietofu]

Tornado at the Curtis house and there are three things on Darry's mind:

1. Get Pony and Soda into the bunker

2. Get his parents' wedding rings

3. Get out of there alive

The sirens rang as Darrel Curtis ushered Pony and Soda into the Bunkers, assuring them he'll "join them in a bit, just need to grab something first." He runs back into his childhood home as the wind picks up outside, frantically searching his p̶a̶r̶e̶n̶t̶s̶' room for his parents' wedding rings cause, surely, they're worth more than his safety.

The wind picks up outside and debris smacks across the windows, leaving even the strongest curtis with a shiver down his spine. He opens the drawer of mother's vanity, blindly feeling around in panic, because: 1. Something shattered and he's pretty sure it's a window. And 2. His hand feels nothing but dust in the drawer of his late mother's vanity.

Alarmed, he opens the drawer fully to see it's empty. He curses and slams it shut, hurriedly searching around the room for the two rings of metal that bound his parents together for life. He tears the room apart, looking high and low; his heartbeat going a million an hour. A thud and a crash is heard from the kitchen, and he just knows the wind got to the pots and pans. He can feel a slight breeze make it's way into the room.

He's running out of time.

"Fuck!" He curses. "God damn it, where did I put those rings?"

His mother would send him to hell and back if she heard "fuck" and "God" used in the same sentence. That thought only makes him search harder than before. The bed's overturned, the closet's been ransacked, and there are clothes all over the floor. He's looked everywhere and he still can't find the damn ring!

"C'mon, where are you," He begs in desperation.

He knows he should give up, go back to his brothers before anything happens. He knows his parents would've wanted him to leave it, that they'll be with him with or without the rings. But something in him needs to find the rings, he doesn't know why, be he just needs them. Maybe cause he promised he'd give one to Soda, or that he said he'd put one on a chain for Pony.

But he also knows that none of it will happen if he doesn't get back there alive. So he turns around and heads for the backyard, with an urgency in his path that he'd felt many times before. When Paul dumped him, and he ran back home. When the Cops came to his door, saying his parents had died, and he stumbled back in horror. When Pony ran away, and his feet urged him to follow. Look where that got him. When Soda ran away, not being able to take the constant tension in the house.

His mind's made up and there's only one thing left on his mind:

Get back to his brothers.

Something hard, maybe a branch or something, pelts him in the back, he falls forward. How a branch got into the house, he doesn't know.

"Shit!"

A sharp pain stings him on his hands and knees. He fell into the glass from the broken windows. The shattered glass blended in with the shatters of his broken dreams. Leaves and sticks get thrown at him by the wind through the doorless doorway. At least it won't creak anymore. The winds whips around him, almost toppling him over when he gets out into the backyard with the bunker in view. He can feel the stickiness of his blood drying over but ignores it as the shelter comes into view. Just a few more steps, and he's back into the safety of his brothers' arms.

He hears a loud crack and knows it's just a matter of time until he flies away with the tornado.

He limps over to to the shelter. It's handle just a foot away. He reaches his hand out, just imagining the scolding he'll get from his brothers as he savors their warm embrace. He'll wait with them through the worst of the storm. Comfort Pony as the wind's rage destroys everything in it's path. Soothes Soda as he assures that they'll be okay.

But that never happens.

The wind knocks him over sideways, and his head hits the ground with a thump as the world slips away.

-

The rings of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were never found. And neither was the Body of Darrel Curtis.

[hellfirecvnt]

You're Just Drunk

Benson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Alcoholism, drinking, angst? MILD fluff? Some secret third thing? High-key OOC Benson. Mentions of suicide and attempting. Y/N is unwell. Bad advice.

Summary: A story about hidden feelings, bad brains, and probably blossoming alcoholism.

It's nearly 2 AM when Benson wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing loudly across the room. Initially, he jumps, leaping awake and forcing himself to be as aware as possible. A symptom of his poorly medicated paranoia and mania. His heart races as he emotionlessly crosses the room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Hello?" He speaks groggily, never minding to check who was calling in the first place.

"Hey, man. You gotta get down here."

"What the fuck, man? You know what time it is?" His anger is calm and quiet; covert. "I'm trying to sleep."

"You gotta come get this bitch, dude. She's losing her fuckin' mind." Benson's peer whines into the phone.

"Call the cops." He replies flatly. He's seconds away from slamming the flip-phone closed when he hears a name.

"No, man. It's Y/N!" Your name silences the line for just a few seconds.

"Alright. Give me five." He closes his phone and tosses it on the dresser, raking impatient hands through his hair as he frustratedly searches for a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Dressed and heading out the door, he opens his phone and checks the time. What could have you out so late, at the local bar, acting so wildly that they've called and outsourced your own ride home, ready or not? The last he heard from you, months and months ago, you were supposed to be doing better. So much so, in fact, that you cut everyone off, including him.

When he pulls into the parking lot, he immediately spots your car. He's expressionless as he stalks toward the entrance. The woman and security guard working the door allow him past, recognizing him as an old regular. You both were. He nods at them as he passes, stepping through a wide doorway into the bar. He carefully scans the room when a loud commotion draws his attention. It's you and a man twice your size, both belligerent, both yelling. He strains to hear what's being said from so far away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You wave your finger in the man's face.

"For the last time, drop it and shut the fuck up, bitch!" The man yells, towering over you in an attempt to intimidate you. You meet his gaze, too drunk for your own good.

"Fuck you," you hiss, and the man can't hold back; he shoves you harshly, and you drunkenly stumble backward into a table, spilling everything on top. You're just about to return the energy, letting a lifetime of pent-up rage loose on a man who couldn't mind his own personal space, but someone cuts you off, putting themself between you and the tall, violent drunkard.

Benson starts swinging, and he doesn't stop. With each devastating blow, the sickening sound of blood squelching fills the air. It's all you can hear over the screams and prying arms. You're staring in awe, too drunk to process what's happening until you feel yourself being lifted and escorted toward the exit by your arms. "Hey, what the fuck?" You kick and thrash in protest, but you're useless in this condition.

Benson's rage is vile and deafening, and by the time sound reaches his eardrums again, he's bloodied the man unrecognizable and torn his own hand to shreds in the process. "God damn it, Benson. I just wanted you to take her back home." His friend sighs, shoving him out the door with friendly discipline. Tough love. Outside, Benson is annoyed with his own behavior. Who the fuck was he putting his ass on the line for? He flexes his sore, bloody hand and groans.

"Fuck," his attention is drawn in your direction. You're fumbling with your keys, trying to get into your car.

"Hey! Y/N," he calls to you, jogging over to stop your attempted escape. "You can't drive like this. Give me your keys."

"I'm not gonna fucking drive, I just want to sleep. Fuck!" You snap, fighting back the sharp prickle of shameful tears prodding at your eyes. You may stifle the tears, but your flushed face and pursed lips meant to hide the tremble give you away. Benson's face remains flat. Nothing. He scans your face and notes every little tell. He always could.

"Let me take you home," he says, snatching your keys from you once and for all.

"How am I supposed to get my car back?"

"I'll come back to your place and drive you in the morning. Just get in my God damn car." You stare at him. "Please." He finally adds. You silently accept defeat. The drive home starts out quiet and tense. You could slice through the air with a knife. "Long time, no see." He finally breaks the silence.

"Yeah, I... Left town for a while." You furrow your brow, unsure of how much you're willing to share with him right now. When just about a year ago, the two of you were closer than anyone in the entire group of friends you managed to make it through high school with all those years ago. Well known in your small, unimportant town for being misfits and "bad kids." It was common knowledge that Benson would do anything he put his mind to if he was mad enough, and often you wondered what that meant. You've seen him in plenty of fights before, but the way he laid into that man tonight was new. "You really fucked that guy up."

"You didn't have it-" he hesitates, searching for a word. "Under control."

"I didn't think I did."

"Eric called me. He told me to come get you. I didn't show up to play hero." He's driving, but still his refusal to look at you feels intentional.

"Yeah, I guess I was a lot tonight. I don't... I can't really remember anymore." You sigh, settling back in the seat. The smell of his car is nostalgic-feeling to you. The interior is stained with the smell of cigarettes and weed, no doubt causing trouble for him every time he's pulled over.

"You drinking like this a lot?" Benson's eyes narrow in that way that tells you he's bracing a subject that makes him uncomfortable.

"It's just- dont- Look, I'm working through some shit, okay? I don't need a lecture from-"

"From someone who knows you better than you do." He huffs. You don't respond. Instead, you lie your head back against the seat and let your eyes fall closed. You'd always tried to emulate Benson's stoic nature, but you were never as good as he was. Tears always found their way to you the way anger found its way to Benson. The car slows down as the tires crackle the loose gravel against the solid concrete of your driveway. It's silent for a while, and then he speaks again. "You need help gettin' inside?" His words startle you awake, and your reaction is shockingly similar to his when his phone rang only about an hour ago.

"No," you mumble, stumbling out of his car and up to your porch. He's pulled out of your driveway and headed to the culdesac to turn around. The same quickness he arrived with. It'd be a cold day in hell if he made you think tonight meant anything to him. That the fact that he's who Eric called meant anything. That you were in his passenger seat again. Emotionless as always, his mind races until a shining object in his cup holder grabs his eye. Your keys.

"Fuck," he curses, frustrated and ultimately unbelievably tired. He quickly whips the car back into your driveway as he emerges from the turnaround. At first, he doesn't see you, but as he steps closer, hoping to leave your keys on your porch, he spots you. You're curled up in an uncomfortably cold-looking situation, sitting on your stairs, leaning against the railing. You're out cold. "Hey," nothing. "Y/N, come on. Just get to your couch or something." He lightly shakes you, closing the awkward gap between you. "Hey..." he notices your dramatic makeup streaking down your cheeks with fresh tears, but still you remain unconscious.

Benson unlocks your door and for a moment, takes in the subtle differences of your house. The small way it's changed over the months apart. The way it's changed after you moved and came back. At least your family held off on selling the place. That totally didn't feel like a giant I-told-you-so or anything like that, by the way. He carries you to your bedroom and lays you on the bed. Annoyed, he pries your shoes off and tosses a small throw blanket over you before heading to your bathroom to wash his throbbing hand. The cool water runs over his open wounds and the soap burns like needles, but his face displays no more than the slightest twitch of his lip. With his hands clean and dry, he makes his way out of your room, reaching for the light switch when he hears your voice.

"Benson?" You question, unsure if running into your old friend was a dream or not.

"Yeah," he says after debating for a moment. He almost just leaves after that, hopeful that you'll fall asleep and he can help you figure your shit out with your car tomorrow.

"I'm sorry."

"Go to sleep," Benson speaks with a low, quiet voice, reaching again for the light switch only to be interrupted.

"Don't go." Your words sound pathetic to your own ears, but you just don't care.

"Y/N."

"Just- don't- just don't go. Stay here for a minute." You say all of this with your head still buried in your pillows, eyes closed, tears falling. Benson leans in the doorway. He tosses up a hand as if he's torn, and taps at the knit on his brow as he thinks. Already knowing he's about to give in, he sighs.

"Alright. Just... Go the fuck to sleep." He finally flips the light off and disappears down the hall, headed for the living room. You always had a large, comfortable couch, so it's not putting him out to crash here for a night. All he wants is to sleep. He didn't ask for any of this. He grabs a blanket from the recliner and flops onto the sofa, settling in with a quickness. Shoes off and cardigan tossed aside, he bundles himself in the soft covers and closes his eyes. Over and over, he tries to force himself into long-awaited sleep, but all he can see are the tears slipping from under your closed eyes, muddied with eyeliner and mascara. Benson eventually manages to sleep for at least an hour before his body wakes him up, stirring his mind with worry and paranoid thoughts.

Without giving it much consideration, Benson makes his way down the hall, just to check in on you. The little episode he'd let out at the bar has his brain running on high. When he pokes his head in, you've seemed to have gotten up and changed into pajamas at some point while he slept. He wonders if you even knew he was out there, staying like you asked. It pisses him off at himself how badly he wants you to remember he stayed because you asked. Your face is washed too, clear of the dragged markings left behind from dried tears, but still, they fall, just a little less visible. Benson can't imagine and doesn't really want to know anything about your time away from home, not unless you want to share it. All he knows is you got knocked down further than you needed. Much further. It's uncomfortable for him to see you so vulnerable. He's seen you drunkenly cry a plethora of times, but this feels different. Heavier.

After a few seconds of watching your breathing shudder as you sniffled, he left the room. He snatches the blanket from the couch and returns to you, climbing into your bed. There's a respectable gap; after all, he's not about to come cuddle you while you cry. He knows you're better than that. Yet his gesture feels intimate enough, even as he rolls over, and faces his back toward you. It's like coming home. It reminds you of when you two were teens and you kissed one time at a concert and never talked about it again, but thought about it almost every day. Benson did too. Albeit a little more strangely obsessive, hence the grudge he held when you left.

"I'm sorry," you mumble and he's unsure if you're awake at all.

"Shh, go to sleep." He closes his eyes, sleep finding him peacefully quickly compared to the distant couch.

"I wasn't trying to cause an episode tonight." You speak through a hiccup. "I just needed a drink."

"Y/N, go to sleep." He insists, already aware of the way you'll regret this vulnerable behavior in the morning. Your levels of hangxiety could be studied by scholars.

"I've always done this to you." All of this being said with your eyes sealed shut and a small semblance of drool pooling by your mouth on the pillows.

"You're just drunk," he whispers, truthfully just desperate to get some shut-eye. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning on his side. You both lie back to back, close enough to feel each other's body heat.

"I didn't come home because I couldn't make it on my own," you're suddenly very spry. You prop yourself up on an elbow and speak into the dark room, still not facing him. Benson releases another heavy sigh, knowing you're just getting started with this monologuing behavior. But he can't lie, his interest is piqued. He's been wondering about you this whole time.

"No one thought that," he responds flatly, his voice is hoarse with exhaustion. You steady yourself, still blackout drunk.

"When I left, my new life was everything I dreamed of," you start. Immediately, Benson raises an eyebrow, listening. "But I kept... I don't know how to explain it. Things would go so good, and I'd keep fucking it up." He listens silently the entire time you drone on, misusing words in your drunken confession of what all went wrong. The way an unchecked rage boiled inside you and it spilled over at the smallest inconveniences. You even venture as far as to say you came so close to hurting others physically, that it made you want to take your own life to prevent any sort of irreversible damage. You couldn't keep a job, forget any kind of relationship. It became a Hell you put yourself in. Benson stifles a scoff.

He wonders why you feel so ashamed of the emotions that other people cause. In a perfect world, there'd be no need to hurt anyone. But war exists, and death exists, and murder exists. You didn't invent it, why would you punish yourself for the way it fills your veins when someone gets in your face? He shakes the emotions and hopes from his mind and flattens his face in an eerie ritual of cracking his neck.

"After the overdose, my aunt and uncle said I could just keep living here if I came back home. C-Closer to everyone." Now all he can imagine is your unconscious body on a bathroom floor, miles and miles away from him. And he never knew a thing. All those adolescent years together, figuring out life, and he would've had to hear about your death in the obits. It enrages him to imagine. Like he's incapable of any other emotion. They all just come out as blood-simmering lividity.

"Please, get some goddamn rest, okay?" He speaks through gritted teeth and you let your elbow down, collapsing onto the mattress and falling into silence. Benson isn't tired anymore; he's wide awake, and he lies there with his brows arched, staring directly at the wall. How could he not know this about you, of all people? How had you successfully masked such an important part of yourself? And then he realizes he's been doing the exact same thing. None of your friends know Benson keeps a shotgun in the back of his car solely for the off chance that he might snap. It looms over him the way it slips out of you. Being away from home must've made it harder to keep bottled. Amateur, he thinks.

The next morning, you pry your eyes open against the harsh morning light, emitting a pitiful groan as you do. You sit up, rubbing your head and looking around your bedroom, confused. You notice a brunette head of hair facing away from you, lying peacefully on the other side of your bed. You scrunch your face, afraid of what kind of weirdo came home with you. You're about to draw back and kick him out of the bed, but then you notice your two separate blankets. You look down, and you're wearing normal sleepwear, not "fuck me" pajamas. When you glance back over to the man in your bed, you instantly recognize everything about his outline.

"Benson?"

"Morning."

"You're in my house," you say, suddenly embarrassed by the half-unpacked moving boxes scattered about your home. Though few and far between.

"Yeah. I'm in your house." He rises from the bed and sits right across from you, one leg hanging off the side, like a symbolic foot out the door. Slowly your memories return to you bit by bit, with large empty gaps in-between. But you remember why he stayed.

"I asked you to stay, I didn't think you would." You'd never be able to notice the light behind Benson's eyes as you say this, but it's there nonetheless.

"Well, you weren't having a great night." He stands from the bed, stretches, and sits back down, reaching for his shoes. "We can go get your car whenever you're ready." He's tying his laces as you stare into nothing, gathering your memories amidst the worst headache of your life.

"Yeah. Thanks." You slip into the master bathroom to get ready for the day, washing your face and staring at the dark circles below your eyes. With a sigh, you splash water in your face. After your morning ritual, you're looking a little brighter, but no less hungover. Benson's waiting in the living room when you return to your bedroom. You get dressed quickly and throw a pair of sunglasses over your darkened eyes.

In the car, more and more memories from last night resurfaced. You place a tense hand on your forehead, leaning against the window as you recall the way you cried to your estranged friend. A friend who didn't want to be there in the first place. "Um, Benson. About last night-"

"Forget about it."

"I was just drunk, and-"

"Would you just drop it, Y/N?" He chuckles, never averting his eyes from the road. "Whatever you've got going on," he pauses for a moment. "Stop crying about it."

"I wasn't gonna cry! I was gonna beat that guy's ass and sleep in my car." You argue.

"Oh, you were gonna beat his ass?" Benson asks, fully laughing now.

"Of course I wasn't! You know what I was doing. Fuck." You resign.

"Yeah, getting your face beaten in as an act of self-destruction doesn't really cut it at our age anymore." His voice is cold and factual. He's reeling in his guffawing laughter, trying to regain a sense of seriousness. "You hate how angry you are, but you don't care if it gets you killed."

"Oh, my fucking god. He wasn't going to kill me. Please don't choose now to do one of your mellow dramatic monologues." You pinch the bridge of your nose. "You're worse than me after too many shots."

"Am I wrong?" He asks, suddenly much more intense than before. His voice is rough and his eyes have widened. You narrow your eyes at him, clocking this switch right off the bat. It's familiar. "Am I wrong, Y/N?" He asks again, truly wondering if you think he's wrong about your passive death wish. He pulls the car into the other lane, driving into oncoming traffic. Luckily, the road is nearly never busy.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?" You exclaim, hoping he'll have time to swerve if someone were to appear around a corner. He's driving fast and recklessly. Your pulse begins to race. "Benson, okay! I get the point, stop the car!" You cloak your panic in anger, as always. Laying into him so hard, a stranger would think you're enemies.

As he rounds a wide turn, a semi-truck comes into view. It blows a billowing horn, begging even harder than you, for Benson to get out of the way. "Fuck," you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and accepting what's to come. Never thinking to wonder why, only accepting an early fate the best way you can. Just as the truck's horn became unbearably loud, Benson jerks the car to the side, missing the large 18 wheeler by what felt like mere inches.

"Nothing's worse than you after too many shots." He cuts, and for some reason, it does sting a little. A reminder of your already self-perceived burdensome existence, even with your veins pumping full of adrenaline. You're shaken up, but you recall that kind of strange behavior from your youth together. Though, it was usually less horrifying from the sidelines.

"What the fuck was that, man? Fuck." You breathe heavily.

"You're not fearless. And you're not indestructible." He lights a cigarette and cracks his window about an inch. The smoke flies out into the wind as he exhales. "Get your kicks without getting your teeth knocked out." He laughs through a cloud. "Or stop holding yourself back. Either way, don't get yourself killed." There's a certain amount of weight on that "don't."

Finally, he pulls his car into the parking lot of the bar, and you confidently mask any embarrassment that might still remain after your little outburst last night. He pulls up next to your car and you step out, stopping to respond as you stand outside the passenger side door.

"Thanks, Benson. A game of chicken with a semi is a pretty crazy way to start the day." You laugh, something that always comforts him. His inability to run you off until you did, in fact, run off.

"I'm a visual teacher." He grins. "Aren't you happy to be alive?" He asks, cockily. You pause for a moment before answering.

"No," you say, flat out. "Come to my house for a drink sometime, I'm probably not allowed back here anymore." You smirk, closing the door before he can make a fake excuse about how it'll never happen, all the while knowing full well that he'll be at your place by tomorrow.

[makeucrawl]

🎃HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

~A little Halloween “ShockTherapy” short for you all~

!!WARNING!!NSFW!!

It was Halloween night in the Murkoff facility, and Coyle was patiently waiting for his favorite doctor to arrive. Easterman was at some company party and promised to bring back some alcohol.

Hearing the keypad outside his door beeping,Leland immediately perks up.

Like a dog ready to greet it’s master home.

Hendrick entered the room, the cop’s eyes nearly burst out from behind his sunglasses.

The doctor was wearing a priest's costume.

“W-What in the hell are you wearin’!?" Coyle's mouth dropped open as the doctor handed him a beer.

“It was a Halloween party, Leland. People dress up for them." Easterman shrugs and opens a drink for himself.

"Well you look…stupid." Coyle murmurs as he drinks, his gaze still fixed on the other man.

There was something about seeing the doctor dressed differently than his normal dark suit that was working for the cop. He nursed his beer, intensely observing the other like prey.

“You a religious type or is it all science with you?" The police officer asks curiously though he deeply hopes the other would recite something.

“If you're asking if Ive read the Bible, I still do so on occasion. I haven't been to a real church in a long time.” The doctor makes the sign of the cross, drink still in hand, while leaning back against a wooden dresser. Coyle made a weird sound, similar to a growl.

Easterman narrows his gaze at the officer.

“Oh don't tell me this is doing something for you."

He gestures at the clothing he is wearing before rolling his eyes. "Your mind really does only know the perverse doesn’t it?" The doctor reaches up about to remove the white clerical collar.

The sound of a bottle hitting the ground was Hendrick's only warning before Leland pounced.

“Don't you dare take a damn thing off."

With one hand, he holds the struggling man's wrists above his head. "What are you doing!? Get off of me!!” Easterman exclaims, but Coyle simply grins down at him.

“Well fergive me father fer I'm about to ssssin~”

He let out a devious chuckle, which caused the doctor to shiver slightly.

“That was a…terrible..terrible joke. Now get off of me!" He lets out a sharp gasp as Coyle grabs his ass with his free hand and lifts him up onto the dresser.

“Can’t do that, Father, and it ain’t a joke. Now let’s get that ass to mass!”

“Oh my g- Stop with the damn jokes!!” Henrick's face flushes slightly as Leland grinds his hard on against him.

“Aw yer a little shy aintcha ya~” The sight of the normally pompous man writhing and becoming flustered just fueled him.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Breathing heavily he makes short work of undoing the “priest's” pants.

"Going to make ya sing hallelujah!" Another malicious laugh as he lifts the other man's legs into the air. "Now let me give ya a lil communion." He dragged his heavy tongue around the sensitive skin before plunging it into the twitching hole. Hendrick bites his wrist as a shaky hand grabs for Coyle's hair.

“F-Fuck! Leland…G-god..damn..your tongue..!” The doctor unleashes a series of curses, causing the prime asset to chuckle deeply making his tongue vibrate slightly.

After pulling his tongue away, Leland spits heavily into the already dripping hole. He enjoyed the rather nasty look the doc gave him.

“Now let's we if we can get you seeing the lord~"

“I am going to kill you for this-!”

Easterman's head jerks back on the dresser as Coyle pushes within him. One hand covered his mouth, and the other grips tightly onto the officer's arm.

“Hoooooly fffuck..!! Oooh g-god..daaamn..Father you feel..sssoooo fuckin good..!”

He groans out, slowly rotating his hips into the quivering “priest” before picking up the pace.

The wooden dresser groaned and creaked beneath them, obscured by all of Coyle's continuous chatting.

“Oh fuck..oh fuck oh fuck-! Hnnn! This is too damn gooood..! Need to haaaaa…need to get in ya more often! Heheheh oooh…an’ ya look so fuckin delicious right now! F-Fuck! Am I fuckin’ ya nice an hard, Father? Huh?! Ya seein’ god yet?!”

“J-Just shut up already!”

Hendrick glares up at him, but it was difficult to maintain that expression for long. His most sensitive spot was being abused by this crazed ranting lunatic.

He was confused at first when the cop drank the rest of his beer, or at least until he kissed him. Now he was a little more grateful for having his drink stolen.

Coyle kissed him as if his life depended on it, his tongue gliding against the doctor's.

“Heheh..Ooh..Thinkin’ it’s c-come t-to Jesus time…!”

The prime asset suddenly chuckles, causing the other man to groan. Regardless of the bad joke, he knew he was going to cum soon. His release splattered the costume as he lets out a low groan.

Leland followed quickly, his hips sputter with each twitch of his cock. He continues thrusting himself enjoying the heavy slick wet sound that accompanied it.

“Holy-Fuck!…S-Stop...! G-get o-off..!”

Easterman groans, attempting to push Coyle away. Though the cop whines, he slowly pulls himself out, grinning as his cum spills out.

“Outta get ya dressed up more often~”

“Please..Just..shut up..and..bring me another beer..” The doctor wheezes listening to Coyle chuckle as he walked away. He was going to have to burn this outfit.