#anti-slip socks

[damon25]

The Benefits of Slipper Socks with Grippers

Slipper socks with grippers are a unique combination of comfort, warmth, and safety that makes them the perfect choice for both young and old people. At any time of the year, particularly in colder months or confined indoors, these functionals are both stylish and practical.

1. Enhanced Safety: Slipper Socks have non-slip grippers on the soles for superior traction on smooth surfaces such as hardwood, tile, and laminate floors. It helps stop slips and falls, making it great for children, seniors, anyone with mobility issues, and anyone who may be unintentionally hurting themselves.

2. Superior Comfort: These best non-slip socks for hardwood floors are made of soft, comfortable materials like fleece or knit fabrics to keep your feet warm and comfortable. Their snug fit gives a sock-like feel and eliminates the need for traditional slippers.

3. Versatility: For a number of indoor activities, slipper socks are perfect for kicking back on the sofa or for some light exercise like yoga. And because they are lightweight and flexible, they are easy to pack when you travel or to wear around the house.

4. Easy Maintenance: Machine washable, most slipper socks are easy to clean and reuse. The construction of these drives is also very durable.Slipper socks with grippers are a perfect addition to your wardrobe due to their combination of practicality and coziness, and these anti-slip socks will always keep you safe and comfortable.

[tnesock1]

sport-anti-slip-grip-sock

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar könig would be such a loser offscreen. like his voice trembles when speaking to the pretty costars he has to work with.

wipes the sweat from his hands on his wrinkled khaki cargos, white crew socks peeking from under them and he wears black, anti slip shoes.

he radiates anxiety, looking on the verge of tears half the time until the camera turns on.

the lamb sheds his skin, revealing the wolf underneath.

he's vicious when he fucks, almost like he's releasing pent up rage. his fingers are precise, every snap of his hips confident.

he knows what he needs to do, and he knows how to get it done.

and then the scene finishes. he's mumbling apologies instantly, begging for forgiveness because he came in them, or was far too rough.

never mind that his co star doesn't even know where they are anymore, thoroughly ruined.

[auroravictorium]

anti-hero (k.b.)

i wake up screaming from dreaming. one day i'll watch as you're leaving, and life will lose all its meaning (for the last time).

Summary: reader is awake and heads outside for fresh air. kaz questions whether reader still wants to be with him, and reader begins to heal.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~4.3k (!!!) Warnings: allusions to reader's recent trauma (kidnapping, torture, severe injuries), mentions of injuries (scars, cuts, bruises), mentions of sibling & parent loss/death, mentions of blood, mentions of kaz's haphephobia, mentions of violence (kaz bashing heads and dangling people of rooftops) Genre: fluffier angst? brief angst then fluff? Author's Note: i really gotta stop with these disappearing acts. anyway, i promised you guys the next part, so here is the next part at a whopping 4.3k. pls enjoy <3 masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur as you fought to recover from what you'd been through. Nothing aggravated you more than the stiffness of your muscles and the pain throbbing throughout your body; just a week ago, you'd been able to jump across rooftops and snatch a pouch of kruge from a man's pocket without any issue. Now, damn near everything ached, though the vertigo and throbbing in your head had eased thanks to Nina's work.

On one of the warmer days, where the snow had melted into the ground to form a muddy slush, you woke up feeling much better than when you'd been carried out of the warehouse. While the rest of the house slept, you slowly made your way out of the room you were staying in and down the stairs. You stuck to the edges, using the banister to support yourself as you avoided potential creaky spots. The house was in remarkably good condition, but you didn't want anyone questioning why you were up and about on your own. You needed to move, to feel the fresh air again.

To remind yourself that you were free, despite everything.

You slipped on your battered boots, your body aching as you hunched over to pull them onto your feet, then stepped onto the front porch, looking over the bleak, icy land sprawling before you. Crossing your arms to brace yourself against the cold, you stepped off the porch and stood in the snow. You let the muddy slush soak the material of your boots, chilling your skin even through your thick socks.

The air stung your lungs as you inhaled deeply, burned through your chest, and then you let it out slowly, the air fogging before you. To be standing outside felt like bliss; in the open air, you could forget the griminess of your captivity for a moment, the sensation of blood sliding down your fingers, the ringing of your ears as your friends had arrived in a flurry of action and chaos. 

You gulped down more air to chase away the prickling hairs on the back of your neck as you considered all that had happened. Not now. 

You realized then why it was easier to close off, to not think of the horrible things those mercenaries had done, that Rollins and his Dime Lions had done in Ketterdam over the years. Denial was easier than wading through the grief of what happened. Preferable, even.

Snow crunched behind you, but you didn't turn, your eyes still fixed on the empty, slush-covered fields before you. A gloved hand carefully wrapped a worn blanket around your shoulders and lingered for a moment before falling away. Kaz stepped beside you, his coat wrapped tightly around himself; there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his face was a touch paler from exhaustion. 

You frowned at him. "You haven't slept."

"Neither have you," he said quietly, sliding his free hand into his coat pocket and looking down at you. He was silent, his icy blue eyes roaming up and down your form as he surveyed you. The look made you shiver, and you turned your gaze away, a blush unrelated to the cold rising to your cheeks.

Out of your periphery, you saw Kaz slide his hand from his pocket, and you felt the brush of his fingers against your arm, loosely wrapping around your wrist. You glanced up at him, and you let him gently turn your arm so that your forearm was to the sky; he pushed your sleeve up carefully, tenderly, and his gaze lifted from the bandages around your arm to your face, waiting.

"Go ahead," you said softly. You didn't want to hide your pain and your scars from Kaz, even though instincts told you to shield it from him. You ached to hide your weakness like when you first arrived on Ketterdam's streets, to settle into denial and rage. But this was Kaz. You trusted him to catch you if you fell.

Kaz undid the bandages with practiced ease, and you wrinkled your nose as cold air hit your wounded tattoo. The flesh was nearly healed thanks to Nina's hard work, but most of the ink itself was destroyed, only a few dark remnants remaining at the edges of what had once been the crow perched on the cup. Shiny scar tissue lined your forearm, and Kaz ran a gloved finger over the skin. The gentlest of touches, but enough to make you hold your breath and look away.

"I'm sorry," Kaz said, breaking the silence with his raspy voice before you could speak. Though he deemed his investigation complete, he didn't release your arm. Instead, he carefully wrapped the bandages again and secured them in place, his leather touches nothing more than a whisper against broken skin. 

You shook your head. "It's not your fault," you said, looking up at him. You were startled to find his gaze already on you, and your breath caught as you saw the raw emotions flickering there. Concern, anguish, guilt. A raw mix of vulnerability he would never let anyone else see.

Kaz looked back down at your bandaged arm, still in his hold. Black leather gloves against pale white bandages, a stark contrast that he hated. He'd caused this. He was at fault, whether you would say it to him or not. The moment he'd crawled out of that harbor, determined to make the city pay for taking his brother, taking his name, taking his dreams, he'd set everyone around him on a path to harm.

"Kaz," you said, turning your arm in his grip so that you could grasp his. Your breath fogged in the cold air between the two of you, a warning of the winter storm brewing above that you elected not to heed. "Tell me what you're thinking. Please."

He let out a breath, and he wanted to turn away. Your gaze was intense, reaching deep into his soul and threatening to pull out every word he'd stashed away where nobody could ever find them. Most believed he didn't have a soul, and he liked it that way; it was his treasured hiding place of all the things he wanted to say but never would, because Dirtyhands wasn't tender. He wasn't kind or caring. He was ruthless, selfish, and brutal. He bashed skulls into stone floors and tortured men on rooftops.

Yet you seemed to break down his walls with only a look, stripping away the layers he'd created to become Kaz Brekker. You saw him, the boy who grew up on this farm, who fell asleep every night with the threadbare blanket currently wrapped around your shoulders, who believed in goodness in the world.

He struggled to reach into that hidden, tucked away part of himself, to find the words he longed to say to you. I love you. I'm sorry. I am not the man you should want. I love you. I thought I'd lost you. I am a liar. I love you.

I love you, and I thought I had lost the chance to say it.

"Do you still want this?" he managed to say, the words nothing more than a rasp, the sound of sandpaper against wood. Even as Kaz Brekker longed to take steps back, to fling up those walls and fall back into the comfort and safety of being ruthless and harsh, the ground beneath his feet had him rooted in place. The Rietveld farm, where the ghosts of his father and brother lurked in the house just feet away. They were watching, begging him to do better. To be better.

He could be.

"Yes," you said without hesitation, your grip on his arm steady and your gaze unwavering. "I made my decision a year ago. I stand by it." Your words were firm but not unkind, leaving no room for argument or misinterpretation.

A lot of horrible things had happened in the past week. Kidnapping, torture, interrogation, and scarring you hoped would one day heal. And despite the urge to collapse, to fall and give in, you wouldn't. Your friends wouldn't let you. Kaz wouldn't let you. And you wouldn't let Kaz wade into the guilt he was feeling. You'd haul him out by his coat collar if you had to. You wouldn't blame anyone for what had happened to you aside from those who deserved it; the guilt lay with the mercenaries and with Pekka, left behind in that warehouse.

Kaz was quiet for a few long moments. He let your words play over and over again in his mind, searching for any whisper of deceit, any hint of blame from you that would reinforce the guilt that pressed down hard enough on his lungs that he felt like they might be crushed beneath the weight. When he found none, he pushed a slow breath past his lips, trying to ease that pressure. "Alright," he said.

Because as much as he did blame himself, it was your choice. Your decision to stay with him, despite his belief that you would only get hurt again. And he wouldn't take that choice from you, even as everything he'd taught himself screamed at him to distance himself from you until you changed your mind.

He would be better.

Kaz swallowed, realizing he still held your arm in his grasp. He looked down at it again, his hand gently cradling your injured arm, and he slowly shifted his hold until your hand was held in both of his, his cane resting against his hip so it didn't fall into the slush. He could feel the coldness of your fingers through his gloves, and he trapped your fingers between his palms to try and warm them up. 

You stepped closer to him, realizing how cold you actually were, even with the tattered blanket around your shoulders. The heat radiated off him in waves, and soon you were nearly chest-to-chest with him. You tilted your head up to look at Kaz, your heart slamming in your chest as you dared to step into his personal space. He smelled like city smoke, like faint remnants of cologne. Home. Comfort.

"I thought I lost you," Kaz rasped, the words almost inaudible, even as you stood mere inches from him. He almost choked on the words, but he owed it to you to say that. To say so much more. "I thought Pekka had won."

"He didn't," you said quietly. 

"I killed him."

"I know."

His breathing turned ragged. "I should have done worse. I should have made him suffer more."

You shook your head, turning your hand in his palms so you could lace your fingers with his. "You did what needed to be done. Nothing more, nothing less. That's all that matters." You tilted your face up, taking in the emotions in his eyes.

"Before you left, you said..." Kaz's eyes slipped shut. Just say it, you fool. Say it. "You said you loved me."

The words didn't burn on his tongue like he thought they would and didn't taste like salty, bitter seawater. It didn't make his teeth chatter or his clothes feel stuck to his skin. It felt blissfully warm, burning in his chest like it might ignite him from the inside out.

You didn't answer, not wanting to interrupt him as he fought to speak. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to say, why he looked like he was somewhere between keeling over and taking off across the property to disappear into the treeline. So, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him, feeling your heart pound as he spoke again.

"I should have said it back," Kaz said. "I should have told you I..." The words stuck in his mouth like the sticky candy he'd shared with his brother on this very property, the sun beating down on their heads. "I should have..." He faltered again, his brows creasing as he grew increasingly frustrated with his inability to spit the damn words out.

Kaz sighed, the breath rushing out of his lungs and clouding in the air before he managed to force out, "I should have told you that I love you." As the words passed his lips, a feeling of peace came over him. The knot in his chest eased, and the heavy weight within his chest became easier to bear. Taking the chance, he continued, his voice quieter. "You could have died, and all I thought about on the ride here was how I didn't say it back. I just turned away like a fool and sent you into the lion's den."

He was grateful for that temporary moment of relief. At least if you stepped away and changed your mind about wanting this, wanting him, the last thing he would remember of the two of you would be this moment of respite with your hand in his and the knowledge that he'd finally told you what he felt. That would be some consolation before the bitter taste of pain rose.

You stepped closer, cutting off his train of thought by pressing his gloved hand against your racing heart, his palm resting just beneath your collarbone. The words he'd just spoken suddenly seemed far away, and his mind went completely blank as he felt the hammering of your heart against his palm. A stark reminder that you were still alive, and he didn't have to think of the 'what ifs' anymore. You had chosen him. You hadn't changed your mind, after everything.

"Don't torment yourself," you said quietly. Your gaze met his, a simultaneous fierceness and gentleness visible there that almost knocked the breath from Kaz's lungs. "Do you remember what I told you? Your pace?"

The words reminded you of an evening that felt long in the past. The two of you, sitting on Kaz's tiny bed in the Slat and working through his fear when you told him you love him and that he didn't have to say it back until he was ready. Your pace, Kaz.

"I remember," he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his breathing as he dropped his hand from your heart and twined his gloved fingers with yours once more. Once he was sure he wouldn't hyperventilate or collapse into the icy mud like a fool, he opened his eyes again.

"I love you," you said softly, giving his hand the gentlest of squeezes. The words felt right, just like every time you'd said them, tasting like shots in the Crow Club and snow falling over the city, like a heady bliss you wanted to feel again and again, as though you might never get enough. Though the words felt right, you realized you started trembling after you said them. From the cold? From the vulnerability strung between the two of you? From the anticipation of his response?

Your fingers were cold between Kaz's, and before he realized what he was doing, he caught both of your hands in his this time, clasping them between his gloved palms to warm them up. Only a few inches separated your faces now, and your tangled hands were wedged between your chests. Selfishly, he wanted to close that distance completely, to remind himself of how your lips felt together. It had been six months, and though he thought about that moment in the alley outside the Crow Club every single day, he found that the feeling had begun to drift from his mind.

"We should go inside," he rasped, despite the thoughts warring in his head. You were freezing; that much was obvious. The old blanket he'd brought to you hadn't done much to keep you warm in this bitter weather, especially as a fresh flurry of snow prepared to blanket the ground.

"I'm fine," you responded, though the growing numbness of your nose and ears said otherwise. You were caught in his gaze, trapped by the heated look in his eyes. You'd seen him angry, distant, and vulnerable at times, but the look he wore now was one you hardly recognized. It was one you'd only seen once before, moments before he'd kissed you outside the Crow Club like he'd die if he didn't get the chance.

"That's what most say before dying of exposure," Kaz deadpanned, but even his response couldn't tamp down the burning in his chest. He didn't recognize it, the looseness in his muscles and the burning in his chest. For once, no terror rose in response to your closeness, ready to shove him away with cold, invisible hands.

You rolled your eyes at him. "I can assure you, the cold won't take me out that easily." Still, you shivered just a bit as a slight breeze kicked up to remind you both of the incoming storm, making your words much less reassuring than you wanted them to be. Traitorous nature. But Kaz (and the wind) was right, the two of you should head inside, even if you wanted to bask in the vulnerability and simmering feel of his gaze for a little bit longer.

Taking a step back, you moved as if you might disentangle your hands from his and head back toward the house. Once again acting before he could stop himself, Kaz caught you, his fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. "Wait," he said, his voice almost inaudible. He took a shaky breath as terror sunk its fingers into his flesh again, making his words come out more unsteadily than he intended. "Can I?"

He could win against his fear again, could push himself past the newfound comfort of holding hands with you. He'd done it once, even though it had kicked an unfortunate series of events into motion. But maybe... maybe that wouldn't happen again. It was just the two of you and the cold. No witnesses, no traitors amongst you except the bone-deep terror that threatened to rear its head every time he dared to challenge it.

Confusion briefly flashed across your face, and then your mind went blank with recognition. The memory of the alleyway, a kiss tasting like bitter liquor and snow, flashed through your mind.

Oh. Oh.

You nodded, just as you had before, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the cold.

As he stepped closer, closing the last few inches of distance, you wanted to ask him whether he was sure. He'd opened up to you so much already; you didn't want him to feel obligated to do so further. But he'd initiated it, and you trusted him and his newfound confidence in his ability to heal. 

You were proud of him.

His lips met yours, tentatively at first. They were cold, chapped slightly from the weather, and he waited for the icy terror to yank him to the ground and drown him right there on land. While his legs felt unsteady, pushed and pulled at by his own fear in its twisted form of pale, dead hands in the harbor, he felt like he could keep standing as long as he focused on you.

It no longer felt like the midst of a Kerch winter. As snow fell down and started to kiss your cheeks, you could imagine it was a morning drizzle on a summer day, before the sweltering heat kicked in and was compounded by the smoky air of the city. You felt warm, maybe too warm, and you freed one of your hands to move up and grasp the back of his neck, standing up on your tiptoes to keep the distance between you closed.

Kaz startled at the touch, his hand moving to grab your arm out of instinct as his heartbeat picked up at the feel of your hand on his skin. The touch was foreign, soft, and hesitant, but not unwelcome as he steeled himself against letting his fear take over. He wanted to be able to kiss you, to accept your touch and affection without feeling like he might collapse. 

His determination fueled him to press even closer, his hand releasing your arm in favor of cupping your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, pretending he could feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. You shivered, and a surge of warmth ran down his spine, making goosebumps rise beneath your hand on his neck.

Distantly, he felt his cane fall from where it had been propped against his hip, thumping against the frozen ground. But his focus was on you. You, your lips, your nose bumping against his as you settled into this still-new feeling, your hand on his neck, your other moving up as if to join the other before chancing it, sliding into the mussed strands of his hair that he hadn't bothered to slick back before joining you out here.

You fought the heat running throughout your body and forced yourself to pull back, gasping a bit and looking up at him. "I'm-" you began, already starting to retract your hands. What if you'd pushed him too far? You'd felt how he tensed beneath your touch for a moment, felt him go somewhere else for just a moment. What were you thinking, Y/N? His pace, remember?

"Don't," Kaz said roughly, knowing precisely what you were thinking. He kissed you again, chasing the euphoria of your lips against his. He surprised himself with how hungrily he kissed you. The feel of your lips was better than any liquor. Better than any drug, or high in the aftermath of a successful heist. He liked the feeling of kruge passing into his hands, but this feeling had quickly surpassed that.

You made a noise of surprise but didn't protest or pull away, sliding your hands back into his hair and through the dark, silky strands. There was a bubble of something in your chest, the urge to chase this and press further, but the burning in your lungs and throbbing of your wounds in response to the worsening cold forced you to pull back far sooner than you wanted to. 

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to ask if he was okay, or what he was thinking. A million emotions were flickering through his eyes, and you were having trouble pinpointing any of them. Just as you recognized one of them as longing, Kaz's face went neutral, the emotions disappearing before you could blink as the front door to the house creaked open. Your head turned, and you saw Nina, who had just woken up judging by the wayward hair framing her face.

"If you two are done frolicking, I figure I should tell you the storm is about to hit," Nina called from the porch, leaning against the doorway with a smugness on her face that made you blush and take several steps back from Kaz. 

Tightening the old blanket around your shoulders, you glanced at Kaz as he grabbed his cane off the ground. His cheekbones were flushed pink, and there was a purse to his lips that gave away his embarrassment at being caught. But as he straightened up, his cane firmly in his hand again, there was a sparkle in his eye as he met your gaze and offered you an elbow to help you back inside.

"Not a word, witch," Kaz said to Nina, eyeing the wicked grin on her face as he tapped his boots against the steps to free the snow and mud from them. He kept his arm extended for you to hold onto as you did the same, noting the winces of pain as the impact sent shocks of pain through the bruises and scrapes on your legs.

Nina gave Kaz an innocent smile. "Of course not." She reached up to pinch his cheek, and he batted her hand away with a sharp glare. "Can't ruin your terrifying reputation, can I?" 

"No bickering before breakfast," Jesper groaned from the couch, pushing the blanket away from his face and yawning. "I can't add any witty commentary on an empty stomach." He sat up and rubbed his eyes before grimacing and hunching his shoulders. "Now, will you please close the damn door? It's freezing out there."

You suppressed another smile, stepping into the house and setting your shoes to the side. As Nina and Jesper bickered, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, sharing a brief glance with Kaz as you settled next to the fireplace to warm up. A flicker of something soft passed through his eyes before disappearing as he carefully leaned down to add another log to stoke the flames. 

Inej padded down the stairs, putting the finishing touches on her braid as she investigated the commotion. If she noticed the faint blush on your cheeks or Kaz looking anywhere but you, she didn't say anything. Instead, she pushed Jesper's legs off the couch to make room to sit, ignoring his groggy protests.

Though you weren't sure anything other than time could heal what happened, being surrounded by your chosen family was a good start. A warmth unrelated to the fire settled over you, a comfort and security that eased the tension that hadn't lifted since your capture. You would heal. Wounds would scar and fade, memories would become less vivid, and the ink along your arm could be replaced one day. 

In the meantime, you'd bask in that warmth, even when your return to Ketterdam inevitably tried to chase it away. 

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[bittersw33t-lotus]

Bloody Hell!

Tommyinnit x Fem! reader

Cw: bloody nose, Tommy feeling immensely guilty, takes place in the “I Brought A Trampoline Park” video, mentions of reader being a female, uses of woman, jokes of physical fights (uses of woman beater as a joke)

Tommy had invited you to join him, Ranboo, Tubbo, and George to go and play at a trampoline park Tommy rented for the day. You agreed and got dressed I’m comfortable clothes before they picked you up and drove to the place.

(So sorry for disappearing for a long time guys. I just fell out but I’ll try my best to get back into posting again. I have a whole bunch of unfinished works I need to finish.)

When you all arrived you walked in and got anti-slip socks before preparing to film. After we settled we got straight to filming our antics. We bang jumping and playing doge ball, Tommy and I kept aiming for each other the most but missing most of the shots all while shit-talking to one another. The day was going good and you were having a blast when you and Tommy decided to battle each other on one of the courses. You had to balance on a beam holding soft but pretty solid foam barrels that had handles you could hold onto, you had to try your best to hit and knock your opponent off the plank all while keeping your balance to avoid falling off. Who ever fell first won, so that’s what you and Tommy decided to do to see who was the best.

The George was already filming you two as you walked towards eachother on the plank. You had a pretty good balance on the plank, Tommy seemed to be struggling a bit to which you teased him for. As Ranboo and Tubbo stood on the sides with George watching the match, they began to cheer for you chanting your name, it gave you a bit of a boost in your ego. “The game hasn’t even started and you’re already struggling? Weak.” You teased as Tommy glared at you.

“Fuck you bitch!” Tommy yells out as the charges you and swings his barrel but they were kinda heavy and Tommy isn’t very strong and fast so you blocked his hit. With your barrel still maintaining your balance and making Tommy wobble a bit. You two fought and swung the barrels the best you could. You were pretty obviously winning with how balanced you were and how much Tommy was struggling. Before you could knock him off Tommy gave one last powerful swing but swung upwards as you aimed downwards. Tommy tried to hit your chest but you ended up kneeling down a bit causing the barrel to hit you square in the face. Tommy screams as you finally knocked him off and landed in the foam pit, you fell shortly after him technically declaring you the winner. As you landed in the pit you you felt a slightly painful stinging sensation buzz in your nasal area but you tried to brush it off not thinking much of it. Ranboo, George and Tubbo were showing their dissatisfaction at the results of the battle as they sighed obnoxiously. “You were so close to winning (yn)!” Tubbo says as he flails his arms.

You get up and out of the pit as you laugh. “Well technically, Tommy fell first and I call it a foul cause he hit me in the face.” You say as you felt, what you thought was snot running down your nostril, was warm and much more liquified than normal.

As you tried sniffing it in, it was rendered useless as it dribbled down to your lips and chin before dripping on your sweater. You look down as see that it was not in fact snot, it was actually blood. “Oh shit.” You muttered in surprise. You weren’t too worried about it since you kinda half expected yourself to bleed however the others didn’t think so.

“Oh fuck, you’re bleeding!” George says aloud, as he turns to you unknowingly recording you standing there with blood leaking from your nose and dripping on your sweater. George’s words catchthe attention of the other three boys and a few employees that were near by keeping watch of you and your friends.

Tommy eyes widened as covers his mouth with his hands. “Oh, bloody hell!” Tommy exclaims dramatically as he walks up to you. You take your sleeve and quickly cover your nose as you wave your hand.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t even hurt.” You try and brush them off but it doesn’t do much to calm Tommy. Tubbo and another employee go to the bathroom to fetch you some paper towels as Tommy just stands beside you freaking out and muttering apologies over and over again. George and Ranboo just stand there and talk about your bloody nose for a comedic bit for the video making fun of how much Tommy’s freaking out while you’re just they’re acting like nothing.

Eventually you get some paper towels and you head off to the bathroom to clean yourself up and get the bleeding under control. While the other wait for you they sit in the lounge area.

George shoves the camera in Tommy’s face and decides to make a good bit out of it. “How does it feel to know you just hit a woman and made her bleed.” George teases. Tommy looks at him with a blank stare before his face contorts to a ‘are you fucking for real?!’ Face.

“It was a fucking battle we were suppose to hit each other!” Tommy shouts as George, Tubbo and Ranboo laugh.

“Yeah but you won’t supposed to hit her in the face.” Ranboo says as Tommy groans and covers his face.

“I wasn’t trying to hit her face but she leaned down as I swung. I swear it was an accident!” Tommy cries out and he pretends to sob. “Genuinely tho I feel bad, I didn’t know she would lean down-” Tommy rambles as you come out of the bathroom with your sweater in hand now just sporting you t-shirt and a piece of tissue plugged up in your nostril.

“I got the bleeding under control finally but my sweater is covered in blood, looks like I murdered someone.” You joke as you approach the group. Tommy gets up rushes you like a mad man before engulfing you in a hug.

“I’m so so fucking sorry I swear I didn’t mean to hit you! It was an accident I swear.” He say but you quickly shut him up as you grasp his shoulder.

“Tommy chill out man, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to and besides I’m not mad about it, it’s just a bloody nose.” You say as shrug your shoulders. “However, if you broke my nose. It’d be a different story.” You joke but Tommy didn’t seem to think you were as he’s eyes widened a bit in shock and fear. You laugh and gently nudge his side. “I’m kidding Tom, I could never be angry with you.”

Tommy laughs in relief but also with a mix of nervous laughter not knowing if you really could be mad or not if that were to happen. After that the rest of the day filming and jumping around was fun. After it was over, you and Tommy drove back to his place after picking up some food and snacks to eat while you watch a movie and edit the video. After a couple hours of editing the video (ik Tommy has his own editor but just bear with it for the story) he finally decided to wrap it up and finish the rest of it tomorrow. You both sat down on the couch and watched movies you both wanted to watch.

A few days after the video finally came out. Everyone made an inside joke with the nose bleeding incident and titled Tommy to be a woman beater which was of course used lightly not really taken to heart. You laugh about it too and occasionally joke about it joking that Tommy beat the hell out of you.

———

“You guy remember when Tommy punched me and made me bleed from my nose-“

“Oh my god! I did not, it was a fucking accident and it was with a foam pillar!”

[sunlightmurdock]

Like This Forever | 0.3 | Jake Seresin x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Chapter Three. The early stages of pregnancy are really taking a toll on you. Jake’s got questions.

Warnings: talks of abortion / anti-abortion ideology. We’re pro-choice over here. This is an accidental pregnancy fic. Lying. Friends to lovers. WC: 3.6k.

…

Snickering had given the two of you away instantly. From the moment that Matthew Seresin had pushed open the door to the room, he had known that something was amiss. The house was uncharacteristically quiet for a Friday evening — those were the nights you stayed for dinner while your mother worked late, and you had spent hours with Matthew’s youngest brother causing nothing but trouble.

“If you’re in my room, I’m going to lock you out with the cows, you little freaks.” The then seventeen-year old had warned, his eyes narrowed warily as he tiptoed across the hardwood of his bedroom floor, aged floorboards creaking under his weight.

With that, a clammy little hand pressed itself firmly over your mouth. When you turned to look, Jake had been staring right at you, his cheeks dimpled with the sheer joy from his grin. A few more heavy steps and Matthew had dropped his old duffel packed full of wrestling gear to the floor.

Your nose had wrinkled at the smell. Disgusting, sweaty teenage boy athletic gear is a scent that doesn’t fade from memory.

“Last chance, you little germs.” Matthew had warned, craning his neck to check out his closet, then to squint at the open door to the bathroom he had Noah had shared.

From under his bed, you knew you were safe for at least a couple more minutes. As the oldest boy, and the messiest at the time, Matty’s room had plenty of hiding spots back then. Especially for two ten year olds who knew this old house inside and out. But, your window of opportunity was closing — there’s a fragile line between being able to scare the life out of Matthew Seresin, and just evoking his wrath. Back then, in all of his teenage hormonalism, the latter was much easier.

“Three,” Jake had mouthed to you, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes and his nose just a fraction too big for his face back then. “Two…”

The two of you had leapt out from opposite sides of Matthew’s double bed, scaring him so bad that he had lost balance in his gym socks, slipped on the wood and landed flat on his ass. He had been so angry that day — the two of you had slept out in Jake’s treehouse because you were so afraid of what Matty would do if he had gotten his hands on you.

Jake has always been a wriggly sleeper. He always tosses and turns, balls his hands into fists and stretches his arms out as wide as they’ll span. He has thought about joining you in your afternoon nap a couple of times now, as you stretch out along the plush bench opposite the kitchenette, but he won’t. All of his wriggling keeps you up, and he hasn’t ever seen you this tired. Even after the two of you had snuck off to Panama City Beach and spent thirty-six hours straight awake the summer after high school.

The tour has been electric so far, and Jake’s still waiting for the high of it all to wear off. His body feels like it’s vibrating as he plucks absently at the guitar strings, turning his head away from you and looking back out towards the open stretch of road. The first three dates have been everything Jake could ever have imagined. He has signed t-shirts, records, hats and skin and listened to crowds call back his lyrics for three nights consecutively. Currently, is a travel day. Seven hours from New Mexico and into Colorado. He’ll have tonight off and tomorrow, he’ll play his fourth gig in Boulder, CO. His eldest brother is going to be able to see him play.

Matt transports things outside of his work at the ranch. Just off season work to make sure his family can have the nice things he wants them to have. Jake can’t wait to see him.

The road ahead is stretching, flat and open. A couple of minutes back, the bus passed a sign informing them that the closest gas station was four miles away. Jake knows this because his driver, Pete, had announced it and interrupted Jake’s train of thought right in the middle of what could have been the best hook of Jake’s career.

With these roads out here, it’s a fifty-fifty gamble between potholes and cracks in the asphalt and smooth sailing. This road is perfectly smooth. It barely even feels like they’re moving. And yet, something wakes you up. You sit up quickly, trying to swallow through the thick churning feeling in your stomach. Your gaze flickers to the whirring air conditioning at the front of the bus as sweat slickens your forehead.

“Stop the bus!”

Pete turns in his seat, wide-eyed and ready to argue about making it before sunset, until he sees the sudden grey sheen to your skin. He doesn’t bother arguing, but his braking isn’t fast enough either.

“Pete, stop the fucking bus!”

Natasha, curled up on the bench beside you, is startled awake by the commotion. Jake’s face has already twisted into a concerned frown, his fingers stilling against the guitar strings as the bus jolts to a stop. As you leap upwards from the seat, there’s a familiar smell of dust that reminds you of that afternoon huddled under Matthew’s bed. The wild look of excitement in your best friend’s eyes are the furthest thing from your mind as you stumble forwards, two left feet trampling over each other and not enough floor space to accommodate the lack of coordination.

The door to the bus, much like the rest of it, is stiff, old and creaky. Your legs wobble down the two steps and your knees buckle, searching for the afternoon-warmed asphalt until your palms are on it too, your stomach twisting into a painful knot.

With how unceremoniously you threw yourself out of the door, Jake has to struggle to step around you without dropping himself boot-first into your breakfast. He winces, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Same old squeamish Jake. With one hand, he gets to work scooping your hair away from your neck and face and with the other, he puts a halt to the crew trying to exit the bus after you.

“Pete — you think there’s an emergency room anywhere near here?” He calls out, craning his neck to squint around the miles of fields and at the mountains in the distance.

First, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, and then you sit back on your knees and swat Jake’s hand out of your hair. “I don’t need to go to an emergency room. I just ate something — and all the driving, and… bleh. I’m fine.”

“Yeah and the other day you were just too warm. You’ve been feeling weird for a couple of days, we’re getting you checked out.” With his hand now out of your hair, Jake has it free to rest against your forehead, checking impatiently for some kind of temperature he isn’t going to find. Sitting on your knees, squinting at him through the afternoon sun, finding nothing but that stubborn kind of worry that is only fuelled by love, it makes you feel sick all over again.

As much as you used to bicker and fight, and sometimes you still do, Jake’s light has always matched yours in a way that has been noticeable by everyone for your entire life. You’ve always been a duo, the perfect pair. It doesn’t seem quite right that now you know there’s a part of him that’s fused with you — that your body is reacting like this.

Truthfully, you can’t pretend that carrying Jake’s baby had ever occurred to you. The ‘B’ word, really truthfully, still makes you uncomfortable three days after finding out. But, if you had ever thought about carrying Jake’s baby, you would have assumed that it would just be… easier… than this.

“Sunny, hey, look at me.” Jake frowns down at you, all that worry materialising right in the pools of his green eyes as he squats down. Squeamish Jake who couldn’t even clean the mess up after he got sick last New Years’ Eve, squatting above a puddle of hot puke, just to get a better look at your face. “We’ve got the day off — let’s just see a doctor, get you fixed up. Alright?”

“Map says there’s an urgent care down the street from the motel.” Bob calls from inside the bus, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s all faded denim and rolled up sleeves, a real hometown-comfort looking kind of guy. Not a rockstar by any means, but he and those drums seem to have a special arrangement. You’ve never been more grateful for him than you are right now; he just bought you another four hours.

“I can hang on ‘til then. I’ll take it easy,” You promise Jake, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears and wobbling to your feet. He presents both hands and breathes a sigh of relief as you brace yourself on his forearms. “It’s just a couple of hours — and I don’t see any hospitals around here anyway. Do you?”

Jake lets it go.

He boards the bus once again and sits with his elbows on his knees and watches you sleep for the next four hours. The way you’re moving, you’re going to drive that guy sick with worry — and Jake Seresin does not take kindly to being sick.

It’s got to be a sign, you think to yourself as you try to appear asleep. Your body rattles with the bus and the lack of the seatbelt, soft cushion under your back as you take up just about the only ‘tour bus-like’ commodity thag this old girl has to offer. Jake’s baby — fetus — clump of cells — whatever the fuck is chilling in there and ruining your day; you and that thing just aren’t compatible. It’s as simple as that.

It’s bringing you to your knees three days in. You haven’t slept, anything you eat won’t stay down, and your nerves are shot with the idea that you created a lifeform in the filthy back room of the Darkstar.

It’s not like you’re a teenager. You’re a grown up who is old enough to be moved out, old enough to be married. Hell, old enough to be a parent. By the standards of Driftwood, Texas, it’s about time you hitched a ride on the baby making bandwagon. Though, even in this more progressive times, the folks back home wouldn’t be too happy to hear that you just let any old guy knock you up.

That idea plays on your mind a lot at night now. The thought of walking down Main Street, all big and round in a pretty little dress, radiant and ready to be a mother. No husband waiting for you at home, no men in line to get down on one knee either. This clump of cells, or whatever, without a father. Poor thing. Well — that would make things even worse. It wouldn’t take long for people to figure out that your little mistake was a Seresin.

You hope that when they figured it out, they would understand. They would take one look at the photographs of you with Jake — all of those summers, and winters, and nights that weren’t captured by a lens, and know that you’re not just easy. Though — you are, you suppose. Jake hadn’t ever had to even ask. You’d agreed to it wordlessly before, or asked him expressly yourself. But that’s Jake. You hope they all know that’s what makes it different.

But you could save yourself all that explaining, all that hoping. With a small gulp, you know how easy it would be. You’re not that far along. All this sickness, and weakness and exhaustion would be gone in no time. You could just say you had a bug. Jake wouldn’t ever know, and his career would become everything he has ever wanted. You would get to remain part of it.

Maybe some day, you could do it the right way. Intentionally. That would feel better. You’d be prepared, the baby would be loved. This… baby — you’re not sure you could ever love something that threatens to rip away everything you and Jake have worked so hard for. Something insignificant that you hadn’t ever wanted, much less intended.

“How you feeling?” Natasha asks, crouched at your side with a glass of water and two ibuprofen in hand. Breaking into the hangover stash to ease your symptoms now. Not a good sign. You blink through the light, glancing over her head at Jake watching you through the rear view mirror, pretending to pluck at his guitar.

“I need someone to distract Jake when we get to the motel. You’ll take me to urgent care, right?” You ask her, dropping the two pills into your mouth and downing them with a strained gulp of water. Her soft brows draw together just slightly as she squeezes at your knee.

“Of course.”

Tbe plan, of course, was never to go to urgent care. While Jake’s stuck on the phone with his mother in a dingy motel room after a carefully timed ambush from Mickey, you’re across the town of Boulder, Colorado, sitting in the waiting area of a Planned Parenthood. The worst part is — Natasha doesn’t even know why it’s so important to keep Jake distracted.

As far as she knows, it’s because your best friend is over protective and because you’ve already got too much on your mind to deal with all the questions. It’s not entirely a lie.

The pen trembles between your fingers. A dotted line has never appeared to be quite so looming before today. All it asks for is your name, and you’re stumped. Outside, routine chanting presses on. Screeching, more like. They had caught you on the way in. People who looked far too similar to those from home, looking into your eyes, knowing exactly what you wanted so desperately to hide.

Baby. Baby. Baby. Your baby can feel already. Your baby has fingernails. Eyelashes. Heartbeat. The entire concept makes you shudder. All the times you’ve laid your head on Jake’s chest and steadied your breathing to the strong thrum of his steady heartbeat. You wonder if it sounds similar.

“It’s just a consultation.” You whisper. It isn’t until Natasha lifts her head and turns to look at you with those big, brown eyes that you realise you’ve said it outloud. One of her hands curls softly around your knee and squeezes softly. She nods. Not to you in particular.

It is just a consultation. Confirmation that you’re pregnant, a couple of questions about your permanent doctor. Whether you’ve ever been pregnant before. The doctor can see it on your face that this is uncharted territory for you. Talk about your vaccinations, your medical history.

“Okay, and is this pregnancy something that you’re looking to go through with?” You suppose there is no easy way to ask that question, and she doesn’t do it any better or worse than you would have expected. Still, it renders you totally silent. “It’s okay if the answer is no.”

“Will I be able to get pregnant again?” Your voice trembled. It’s a strange thing, finding yourself worry for something you had taken for granted until this point. The answer does nothing to reassure you.

“That’s not a very straightforward question. From the exam, I can’t see any reason why not, but things can change and age will be a factor in that.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m only twenty-six.”

It’s so casual. With a shrug, the doctor hums. “Just in the future. Something to be mindful of.”

You pick at your cuticles, staring towards the ground. “Do I have to decide today?”

“No. But I should advise you, it’s best to perform a termination as early as possible for safety and success.”

Without any of the answers you had been hoping for, you leave the office feeling substantially worse. You’ve been told that the entire crew are going out to a bar in town tonight. Your decision to lay in bed and wallow is both to ease Jake’s nerves and also, so that you don’t have to see his face. That doesn’t work out too well.

It’s just after six when he lets himself into your motel room and locks the door behind him. His smell fills the room, the sound of his boots tap softly against the floor. You squeeze your eyes shut as the bed dips with his weight.

“How ya feelin’, champ?”

A tired smile creeps across your face, even as you try to fight it. Jake worms his way into your bed until his face is opposite yours. Freckles on the bridge of his nose and a glint in his eye. A fond smile on his lips.

“Fine, like I told you.” You answer him. He doesn’t reach for you, but he wants to. He wants to grab both your cheeks in his hands and demand that you tell him everything the doctor told you. If you need more rest, or a certain vitamin, or if you’re allergic to the sun now or something.

As kids, you often discussed which superpower you would pick if you could have them. Right now, Jake has never wanted to be a mindreader more.

“Oh. So you don’t want the get-well treats that I got you, then?” There’s a faint rustling of a plastic bag at the bottom of his bed, purposely knocked by his leg to pique your interest.

“Depends what you got.” You both know exactly what he would have gotten you. It’s exactly what you would have gotten for yourself. Jake smiles as he sits up and pulls the bag between the two of you, setting it open to reveal the contents.

“If this doesn’t make you feel better, I think it’s time to call it. You had a good run, twenty-six isn’t a bad age.” He teases, already digging his hand through your bag of goodies to present you with the crème de le crème of gas station snacks. A warm, almost feverish, grin spreads across your lips as he hands you the chocolate bar.

Once it’s in your hands, Jake props himself up on his side and watches you take a bite. He studies you, slow and methodical, looking for any kind of discrepancy. Pain, fear — anything that will give him answers.

“You want a bite?” You offer him through a mouthful. Wordlessly, he leans in with that smirk plastered all over his face once again, and takes a bite from the top of the chocolate bar, then pulls back. Inches from your face, you watch him watching you.

“Haven’t lost your appetite. You’re warm but you don’t have a fever. Dizziness and nausea. You’d tell me if you were gonna die on me, right, Sunny girl?” With that, he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Maybe he needs the full picture to study your face better. You scoff, swallowing down a bite of the chocolate.

“I’m not dying.” It’s not the answer he’s looking for; you know you’re just inviting him to pester you more.

You think back to Matthew. You were twelve when he had to sit down his entire family and tell them that he had gotten his high school girlfriend pregnant. He was nineteen at the time. They had been together a long time, but it had seemed like such a bombshell. You remember how upset Jake’s parents were originally.

Matthew’s engagement was short. He married Isabelle before she was even in her second trimester. He works on the ranch through the year and picks up trucking jobs in the off season, now with three kids total. As much as Jake loves his oldest brother — you know that Matthew was his warning sign. Even now, Matt’s a sign to Jake of what he would have to give in to if he wasn’t careful.

Jake stares across at you, “Did they figure out what’s the matter with you?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, watching your hands pluck off a piece of the chocolate and place it into your mouth. Jake’s brows knit together as he watches you fight so calmly to avoid his gaze. He’s starting to look a lot like his big brother.

“Well? — Is it curable? — You’re freaking me out here.” He prompts you, just about ready to snatch the chocolate back out of your hands if it will get him an answer. You scoff quietly. Curable. Sure — to an extent.

You inhale deeply and hold it there. All of your secrets have always also been Jake’s. He’s waiting for an answer, trying not to panic.

“I’m pregnant.”

And there it is. Lingering in the air between you, you stare across at your best friend and watch those two words change absolutely everything. All at once, his face changes and his hands are reaching out for you. His hands curl around your waist, thumbs reaching towards the middle of your stomach. Jake hasn’t ever looked quite so much like his big brother.

In a split-second decision, you rush out a remedy. “It’s not yours.”

His hands still against your middle. The greens of his eyes are pale, empty, searching. He presses his lips into a line. “How can you know that?”

“The doctor said I’m ten weeks along already,” Your lie doesn’t feel good. As it’s leaving your lips, it feels hot and uncomfortable. It doesn’t change the look on Jake’s face at all. “It was before we even hooked up.”

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[lulublack90]

Prompt 27 - Drought

@wolfstarmicrofic June 27, word count 990

Previous part First part

He’d fallen asleep in Sirius’s arms. When he woke, the others had gone. It was just him and Sirius. 

“Hey, sweetheart, how you feeling?” Sirius asked as he stroked his fingers through Remus’s hair. He could have purred. It felt so good. He stretched his limbs, his joints popping. He opened his eyes to see Sirius watching him carefully.

“I’m good, need to stretch my legs though.” They felt a bit stiff after all the chores that morning and his afternoon nap. 

“That ties in nicely with what I had planned,” Sirius said mysteriously. Remus’s interest was piqued.

“What do you have planned?” Sirius sat up and pulled Remus up with him.

“Well, I promised you a nature walk to replace the one you’d missed.” Remus jumped out of bed, dragging Sirius with him. 

“Yes, please,” He said enthusiastically. Sirius chuckled. 

“Alright then, put on your shoes and let’s get going.”

Sirius led him down one of the narrow trails winding through the forest. Sirius bent down and showed him a carpet of white star-shaped flowers with shiny oval leaves. “This is wild garlic. Here smell,” Sirius rubbed the leaf between his fingers and a garlic scent filled the air. “It’s excellent to use for garlic bread, but don’t pick it if it’s flowered, it’s not as nice then,” 

They moved through the forest. Sirius pointed out different trees. “That one’s a yew. They used to make longbows out of it. Everything on the tree is incredibly poisonous, but apparently they use it for anti-cancer compounds. Beautiful trees, but yeah maybe don’t lick it,” Sirius threw his head back and laughed as he continued on pointing out a few small flowers hidden around the large ferns on the ground. 

They came upon a tinkling stream. Sirius slipped his shoes and socks off and walked into the water. “A few years ago there was a bad drought and this entire stream dried up. The lake was so low we were only allowed to kayak on it. That was the most boring summer we’ve ever had here.” Remus took his own shoes and socks off and let his feet slip into the cool water. 

It was bliss, he hadn’t realised how warm he’d gotten. “Come on,” Sirius took his hand and began walking along the stream. They walked in silence, Remus took in everything around him while keeping a close eye on where he placed his feet. The stream was crystal clear, but the bottom was littered with small pebbles and the odd large stone. “Just a bit further and we can rest,” Sirius told him. He had no idea how Sirius had known he was getting tired, but Remus had only just thought about it in his head and Sirius voiced it. 

The stream widened suddenly into a small pool. It was a lot deeper and he would have fallen in if Sirius hadn’t thrown out a hand to catch him. “Fancy a swim?” 

They quickly stripped to their boxers and Remus followed Sirius into the pool. It was freezing, but Sirius soon took his mind off it. He pulled Remus into his arms and balanced him on his knee. The water swirled around them. Remus swallowed. They’d been close before, but James had always come barging in before anything more could happen. But they were in the middle of the forest, away from everyone. He knew Sirius wouldn’t do more than he was comfortable with, but Remus felt ready to do a little bit more with him. 

Their lips met and suddenly Remus wasn’t the least bit cold. Sirius’s fingers trailed up his bare chest, tracing the scars. Remus relaxed into the touch, he didn’t think he’d trust anyone else to do what Sirius was doing. Sirius was the only one to touch his scars. He avoided them himself as much as possible. 

Sirius’s hand moved, and his fingers traced the line of his waistband, his eyes asking for permission. He felt a shiver run through him and he leaned back slightly, giving a small nod. He felt incredibly vulnerable but the trust he felt for Sirius outweighed it. 

Just then a clattering of breaking branches and thunderous footfalls broke them apart. A figure came hurling towards them surrounded by a swarm of bees. He jumped and plunged into the pool with them, engulfing them in water. They ducked down as the bees dissipated. The person who’d disturbed them bobbed into view from below the surface. 

“Hey guys, didn’t realise you were out here.” James beamed at them, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes. 

“Potter! Where have you gone?” Snape called through the trees. 

“Over here, Sev, and look who I found,” He shouted back, waving his arms and spraying droplets of water over Remus and Sirius. Snape and Peter came into view. 

“Oh,” Snape stopped. “Didn’t realise you’d be.”

“Calm down, Sevy. We’re not naked.” Sirius sighed, exasperated. “What happened to you anyway?” Peter scuffed his boots into the earth. 

“It’s my fault,” He said sadly. “I tripped over and grabbed a branch to stop me from falling, but it broke off and bit a branch on the next tree over and upset a beehive. It fell next to James and they started chasing him,”

“Peter, when we get home I’m taking you to a priestess because there is no way you aren’t cursed,” Sirius grumbled. “Now if you don’t mind, Remus and I would like to get dressed, so clear off," Remus snorted with laughter as the others disappeared into the forest laughing about what James had managed to see before he dove into the pool. “Come on, then. The cook told me there was chocolate cake for pudding again and I know how much you love that.” Sirius clambered out of the pool and offered his hand to Remus. Remus hurried him along, there was no way he was missing out on that chocolate cake.

Next part

[stupidlovergirl]

"Ugh! So Cliche!" Feat Lucifer and Mammon Word count - 1.5k Dev Notes: Every day I grapple with the fact I'm such a bad poster, oof. Anyways, here's Wonderwall

Lucifer, Enemies To Lovers

Really, you don't know why you're here, all things considered. It was Mammon who had the idea, and he dragged you along with it. You were an innocent bystander, really! So how come YOU have to clean up the hallway after Mammon spilled five gallons of paint down the hallway.

Scrubbing the floor, the light above you is blocked, and the eye roll you give could make history with the exasperation it has, and you look up, expecting your partner in crime to have another bright idea. Yet, when you look up, it is Lucifer, looking down at you with a slight glare. You have to bite your tongue at the want to groan.

“Are you almost finished?” He drones out, and you just look back at the floor, scrubbing at the neon yellow paint.

“What does it look like?” 

Thankfully, you were basically done, you were on the last spot, but you’d probably be done sooner, if the marvelous self-proclaimed “Smartest Demon Ever” didn’t run off with his next scheme. Honestly, you just hope he hasn’t got himself caught up in something you can’t save him from. The thoughts of how Mammon’s going to get caught running that “lucky” key chain thing was going to blow up, a thoughtful hum from the first born catches your attention.

“Where is Mammon?” he asks, sounding upset

“I told him he could leave, the cleaner was hurting his hands” that was a lie, it was making yours dry out more than his, but hey, you didn’t want him to get in more trouble than he was in, so you might as well. Another thoughtful hum from Lucifer above you as you finish up on the last spot, dropping the scrubber into the dirty water bucket. 

“Good work” is all the first born says, and walks away, footsteps echoing down the hall. What a dick.

This time, it happened with the Anti-Lucifer League. You stand between Belphegor and Satan, looking at Lucifer as he drones on about how “Glitter bombs are prohibited” and that “glitter is already hard to get out, so I can’t fathom why you’d rig my dresser drawers”. Honestly, you're upset with the camera that was set to catch his reaction to it and the fact that it malfunctioned. 

“And you” Lucifer cuts through your mind, leveling his gaze at you. “You’re tasked with cleaning and vacuuming out my dresser drawers” You bite your tongue and don’t roll your eyes, no matter how much you want to, and nod. After he sends you all away, you groan loudly, which makes Belphie snicker and Satan smile, before you set off on your tasks. 

In the end, if someone said glitter was a torture device made in the Devildom, you’d believe it. This is the third time you’ve had to clean Lucifer’s dresser this week, pulling out the dresser and dumping out the clothes on his bed, and using a cloth to catch some of it. You’re working hard, so when the door opens, it goes unnoticed. It’s only when you feel the warmth of Lucifer’s hand on your back that you realize he’s in the room. 

“Yes?” you ask, looking up at him in irritation. 

“I need you to move,” he asks, and you scoot away from the bed. He rummages through the clothes on the bed, and gets a pair of socks, and slips them off. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, and it makes you surprised. Lucifer wears sock garters. Oh my god, that’s…honestly kind of hot. You cast your eyes down, cleaning the drawer with more vigor, focusing hard on it to ignore the beating of your heart in your chest. For the second time, Lucifer startles you, this time with two quick pats on one shoulder and his head by your ear

“Good work” he says, voice deep and rumbling, before walking off

Oh. Fuck.

Mammon, Fake Dating

When you woke up this morning, it was the loud rapping against your bedroom door, which was swung open and revealed to be Mammon. Who came chattering about a “couple’s discount” at some where they were selling something he really wanted. You don’t remember much, other than him yanking you out of bed and grabbing some clothes out of your closet and throwing them at you and leaving. It all happened extremely fast, and you were dressed and being pulled out the door, with him rattling out things about how to be a good partner. 

“Also, you should probably pick a pet name, I’m letting you choose between babe, darling, and love of my life” he says, that cocky grin on his face as he pulls you in closer, throwing his arm over your shoulders. 

“I’ll pass,” you reply, yawning slightly as you walk with him. Really, it’s not much different between your average walks, Mammon always has been kinda touchy, so it’s pretty natural, so once you reach the…you think it’s a fancy jewelry store? It was pretty natural. You walk in, and yeah, there are a lot of couples.

“What are you getting again?” 

At your simple question, Mammon groans loudly. “There is this new matching set of watches, and I really want one, and it was said that if you come with a partner you’d get a discount. 

“Cool, does that mean I’ll get one too?” you ask, elbowing him in the ribs

“Ughh, I GUESS you can have the other one” he says, though there is a slight smile on his face. As you walk towards the counter, the worker at the bar steps up, and Mammon easily greets them, talking with ease. You look down to the sparkly gems inlaid in metal decors, eyeing them. “I’ll get you that right away!” the worker says, as they walk off. 

“This one is really pretty” you say, pointing to a necklace in front of you two. It sparkles behind the glass, enticing people to look at it. 

“You want it?” Mammon asks, and your head whips up to look at him, gaping. His head turns immediately as yours does, hiding his face from you. “Are…are you sure?” you ask, voice quiet.

“Yeah, I just got paid and it’s pretty cheap '' Well, that you know is a lie, you can see the price tag right in front of you, but it was sweet to say anyway. 

“Nah, it’s fine, I don’t really wear jewelry a whole lot” you say. Soon enough, the sales attendant returns, and Mammon buys the watches and for show he puts it on your wrist. You gasp, awwing at it as he slips his on. He pays with ease, and the two of you walk out. 

Which, you think, leads to the problem you’re facing right now. “Mammon! I can’t believe you didn’t read about this!” you say, trying to pry the watch off your wrist as you glare at him.

“How was I supposed to know they were enchanted!” He groans, his own hands trying to yank it off your wrist also. The two of you fight at it, but give up before searching on the internet.

“It says you’re supposed to admit something important” you say, huffing as you look at the details on the website. You sigh, turning off your D.D.D.  “Apparently, they were made in some form of couple’s therapy”

“How lame” Mammon replies, picking at the food in his bowl. “Well, what do you have to say?” he says, taking a bite of his noodles.

“It was me who broke your model car and blamed it on Levi” you say, smiling sheepishly as he looks at you in horror. 

“I can’t believe you!” he says, placing his hand on his chest

“I panicked!” you reply, laughing awkwardly, trying to take the watch off. You frown, the watch not budging.

“Didn’t work” 

“Damn” he replies, frowning.

“I was the one who sold your ring Asmo bought you”

“I thought I lost that!” you say, upset

“I scratched your car on purpose when I was mad at you for blaming that candle incident on me” you say, rubbing your arm slightly

“I used you as an alibi because I was out gambling last night” Mammon replies, scratching his head

“I ate your last slice of cake and lied” 

“I told you that top you bought recently looked good on you and it kinda didn’t but you liked it so much I felt bad saying so”

“I gave away that set of hair clips you got me to Asmo”

“I have liked you romantically for a while, but telling you scared me" Mammon says, hiding his face in his hands. You gape, and feel the watch slide off your wrist, and you feel floaty, looking at him.

“You do?” you reach across the table pulling his hands away from his face.

“Yeah” he replies, face red and eyes frightened

“I’ve liked you for a while too” you reply, pulling his hands towards you and kissing the knuckles.

Mammon blinks, a slow smile spreading across.

“Of course! Who wouldn’t love the Great Mammon!” he prattles on, and all you can do is laugh.

[tnesock1]

custom-sport-anti-slip-grip-socks

[themotherofblood]

Hello! If applications for the Bloody Baby series are open, can I ask for an evening of stories? They are all together by the fireplace and the baby asks about their past as she is fond of history. And at your discretion, sex during the conversation.

absolutely yes!! I’m gonna do smut on the next one :) on this one and focus on the fluff, mainly because your prompt will be great for answering some questions about our lovely vamp daemyra! What, How, When? Thank you for the request. Also Chanel exists in Modern! Westeros. Do what you will with that info hehe

Vampire!Daemon x fem!reader x Vampire!Rhaenyra

masterlist | bloody baby series | vampire au

Warnings: mentions of murder, anti!green, mentions of genocide and blood (obviously)

You groaned awake, hearing the birds chirp outside and rays of sunshine bleeding in your bedroom. You stretched out your legs, whimpering at the gentle sting that made itsself very apparent. Patches of bandages stuck to your right inner thigh and left jugular. One on your wrist that only stopped bleeding as of yesterday. You shuffled off the bed, the floor under your feet was warm (heated) as you padded your feet over to the bathroom.

Daemon had ordered the attendants clearly, while he does enjoy your figure prancing around in just a shirt, visually your little human body looked much stirring in the pretty dresses Daemon and Rhaenyra had filled in your closet to the brim. At first you would gawk, terrified at all clothes. You doubted even blood donation for money could afford you such labels. Your newest excitement however was realizing the entire collection of Chanel ballet flats just casually laying at the bottom of the shoe shelf. You had with much joy, slipped on the baby pink pair over your white socks and headed out to breakfast.

Their head housekeeper had informed you that they had not returned yet. Rhaenyra and Daemon had headed out to hunt, while they relished the taste of your blood on their tongue. They could only drain you (safely) so many times, leaving a few days to let you recover and replenish your blood before sinking their teeth in once more. Rhaenyra found it mildly discomforting to be around you while she was hungry, a craving is one thing— hunger is death.

You felt like a kidnapped princess stuck in a castle, very much like Beauty and the Beast but Rhaenyra and Daemon were anything but beasts. While there had been no formal rules around the palace, you never ventured around it much. The first few weeks your anxiety tore at your so hard, if you weren’t awake and servicing the two of them or being fed on. You were sleeping, heart heavy and away in a dream world. You wondered often, what they did about the life you came from?

Your halted progression to a university degree, your part time job at the cafè, your mother—you wondered if she tried to cash out your life insurance yet. Your friends, they might have been the only ones a little worried, it felt like a child being grounded, having all your technology away. There was a theatre, they told you about it and yet you were too afraid to touch it. This wasn’t your home.

Once you had very throughly enjoyed your breakfast of eggs on toast, you would have taken a right from the main corridor back to your wing, instead you walked forward toward the east wing. It felt intrusive to do so but your curiousity began eating at you, living in a palace built nearly a thousand years ago. Every trim on the ceiling had a story to tell.

What you stumbled across was a gallery, of small paintings to giant seven foot paintings, over time you had hunch of who Daemon and Rhaenyra were. Their names so prevalent in history, in a world ages ago when this continent was known as Westeros, if the books were true. You pitied them. There was painting right at the end of the corridor, perhaps the biggest one hung. The fine oil painting, aged and masterful.

You could recognize Rhaenyra in it, sat with a swaddled baby in her arms with Daemon stood next to her. Three boys of brown hair, two boys of white. Two dark skinned little girls and a boy stood next to Daemon and a little toddler girl on the floor. Dressed to nines in gold and fine gowns. Their family.

“Curious?” Daemon’s voice boomed from behind you, making you flinch.

You turned to him sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders as he approached you. “That- that’s you, isn’t it?” You asked. Daemon nodded, turning you back to the painting as he held onto your waist before turning your head to kiss your lips.

“That’s a lot of children,” you said as a matter of fact as Daemon resumed his daily need to suckle a bruise onto the crook of neck.

Daemon chuckled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as his nose took a long waft of your scent.

“Are they all yours?” your nosiness had you blurting your thought out. You bit your tongue the second you asked it. He nodded, “Rhaenyra birthed them all?” You eyes widened. “Bloody hell.”

Your horrified face was one of much amusement to Daemon, he knew of how little bloodline sentiments meant in this era. He wasn’t super keen into forcing one to have a child back in 120 AC, neither would he now if he could ever have them again. Your eyes squinted to read the little description etched onto the golden frame.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Royal Consort Daemon Targaryen and their dragon seeds,”

From what you had read about the ancient great houses, they would rather jump off of cliffs than not come up with macabre titles to do with their house sigils. You giggled, dragonseed. A tad dramatic but that was the beauty and irrationality of history, everything was of honour and blood then it seemed.

“You called your children dragonseed?” There was knowing glint in Daemon’s eyes as he quirked up a brow.

“No—no?” disbelief, pure disbelief.

You shriek as Daemon bent down to throw your body over his shoulder. You knocked at your legs “Daemon I wanna know!”

He carried you all the way upstairs, instead of turning left to your rooms, he carried you to his. He dropped you down by the fire place when Rhaenyra was already sat with a book in her lap. You pouted and Daemon, cheeks full as Daemon dropped a thick blanket down where you sat you sat in already a pile of thick furry blankets.

“What’s going on?” Rhaenyra asked, petting your hair and looking at Daemon in a questioning manner.

“I wanna know if dragons were real,” you looked up at Rhaenyra, hope glimmering all over your eyes, a childish dream come true. She looked to Daemon with an odd expression before pointing at a cabinet by the window.

A temperature controlled cabinet with four eggs each on its five shelves, they were the biggest eggs you had seen. You crawled up to go look at them through the glass, eggs of red, purple, white and green. Mouth gaped upon in shock, immortal royalty was cool but this— you could scream from the excitement bubbling in you chest. A wide grin spread across your face as you turned to look at them.

“Silverwing was real!” You chuckled in shock, leg bouncing as the happiness radiated off of you “you rode dragons!” You pointed at them as you waddled over to settle yourself on Rhaenyra’s lap.

“Do you know which ones?” Daemon asked, the ends of his mouth slightly curled upwards. This is the liveliest they had seen you since the party.

You nodded like a teacher’s pet, answering correctly for a piece of candy. “You rode Syrax,” you curled further into Rhaenyra as she kissed your temple. “And you rode the red wormy thing,” you snapped your fingers in the air to try and remember it’s name.

“Red wormy thing,” Daemon repeated, highly amused that Caraxes’s memory would be watered down to a red wormy dragon from the furious behemoth he was.

“Yeah,” you mellowed, still unable to remember his name “he had a wormy neck and a deviated septum, like me.” you told them as if they wouldn’t know.

You looked to Daemon apologetically “but you already knew that…since you know. You rode him.”

“Caraxes,” he helped you “and I do agree, he was a Wyrm.”

“Damn,” you whispered under your breath “so you just had flying nukes for pets. That’s crazy.” 

You settled in with them, still blurting out questions as they came to mind. No history textbook or books you found at libraries had this much details about the subject, the world still counted it’s years from Aegon’s Conquest but they were gods, myths and statues rooted at temples. They were real, tangible blood, you were sitting on one right now.

“If they hatch, what would you do? Over throw the government?” you mused “we could use a Queen, maybe get better healthcare, climate change sanctions, and an extra government holiday.”

This time Rhaenyra chuckled, shaking her head. They had thought of it, though Rhaenyra had given up on any hope of those eggs ever hatching. The last of blood magic destroyed taking down the Night King other than what created their immortality.

“We could go back to Dragonstone, preserve their kind this time around.” Rhaenyra said, pulling the blanket up your shoulders. You hummed as a reply, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Nyra.” You whispered. Rhaenyra hummed in reply. “Has my mother checked in?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes scrunched as she looked to Daemon and then down at you. She shook her head, after leaving a very colourful message on your phone after Rhaenyra had texted as you; about going away on a vacation. There was nothing. As a mother she once was, she never understood the callousness of mothers these days, having children move out of their homes and pay rent.

You closed you eyes, body already heavy from the story filled daze you were in. That and the hearth lulling you, you held no expectation that your mother would mildly care, if Daemon and Rhaenyra were to have killed you. You doubted she would have even noticed.

Just as Rhaenyra and Daemon had just each other, the possibility of you having just them grew each day.

Thank you for reading!! I’m having so much fun with this AU.

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Also lemme know if you wanna be added to a Taglist

[fertilize-my-eggs]

The hangover

Shigaraki x fem reader part one

Part two

A/N: this one gets pretty angsty because I was gonna make this one as a one shot but it was getting long, next part will be smut 💕 DNI minors and antis, you have been warned. ( p.s. I did tear up a bit when I was getting to him being upset towards reader.😭😭)

Warning: angsty + shigaraki can't handle his emotions + they both have kinda unhealthy relationships but it's tomura being a little possessive towards reader + insecure tomura.

You snore softly as the warmth feels nice on your body. Your heavy eyelid flutters open from sleep and a bit of a headache comes from your hangover.

What just happened? Your eyes wide in fear as you realize you were snuggling up to your boss, your head on his scarred chest.

Did we just…. No it can't be, is it?? You were puzzled by this as you slowly removed the covers to see you're wearing your previous outfit last night. How did I get into his room?!?

*last night*

" Bring it on asshole." You were challenged by dabi because he wanted to see who can drink the most alcohol. It was a competition where it was you, dabi, spinner, twice and mr.compress.

Both spinner and twice chicken out as it was the three of us drinking away. It turns out you beat dabi by three shots and you were more drunk than anyone.

" uhh Y/n, I think you had too much to drink dude. "Spinner's concerned voice echoed in your mind as he gently put his hand on your shoulder.

" yeah I'm with spinner on this one… no drink more y/n!! " twice said as he takes the drinks away, your cloudy mind looks at them for a bit more than turning your head at dabi who is knocked out cold.

" I-I'm finneee *hiccup* I'm going to bed. " you shake them off of you as mr.compress said." Are you sure you don't need any assistance? " You shake your head no as you begin to waddle away to your room.

You walk alone down the hall as you grab the handle, it's pretty slippery as you giggle quietly.

The bright light didn't alert you once you entered the room, you thought it was your room only to enter shigaraki's room.

Tomura wasn't in the room as you guys were having a great time with the drinking competition, he was more focused on gaming.

Now he's in his bed watching a random streamer playing a new game. He raised his brow and wasn't expecting someone to enter his room at this late hour.

His cheeks turned a shade of pink and realized it was you who was clumsy enough to walk in.

He had a huge crush on you since you joined the group. Your quirk is quite useful, you weren't great in combat but your quirk was reading other's thoughts, very useful to see who is lying and who is telling the truth by you speaking out loud what they are thinking.

It was also a problem for him since he knew he had to keep his mind clean otherwise you will be surprised by what he actually thinks of you.

He turned his phone off quickly as you removed your shoes and socks.

You stretch a bit, yawn loudly, shigaraki couldn't help but to see your soft skin being exposed in front of his eyes.

Shit not now, fuck.. he turn away as he cover himself.

You slipped inside the covers as you curled up to him as the soft snore came out of you.

Shigaraki was terrified, he wasn't expecting a person, a beautiful woman like yourself to curl up to him like that, he just knows you wouldn't act like this if you were sober.

But this was the closest thing he really hoped to last longer, he sighs softly as he turns over to see your sleepy form.

So soft and pretty… he caressed your arm and didn't realize he had all his fingers on your skin. He quickly removed his fingers, what the hell is wrong with you, you could have decayed her… wait something is off.

He tried it again, putting all five fingers on your arm. He blinked fast.. nothing was happening.

He tries your hands as he carefully holds your hand, locking the fingers together. Your snoring is quite soothing and you're breathing.. you're alive and didn't get disintegrated instantly.

It puzzles him more, you said you have one quirk and that reading minds.. What the hell?

Shigaraki has to talk to you when you wake up, that means you belong to him now. It means he doesn't have to worry about hurting you and he can feel what it's like to touch a human being.

He sighs dreamy, he has to have you already, no one shall have you.

He closed his eyes as he hoped there a chance for him.

*Ended*

You quietly removed yourself out of his bed, he looked so peaceful sleeping, his white hair messy and he had a small smile resting on his scarred lips.

As you get your shoes and socks you hear him grunt out.

" Y/n… " you turn your head towards him as he whimpers in his sleep.

" don't leave… me…. Please. " You feel bad, you could stay and wake him up but you don't know what to do.

You walk towards the door, maybe you'll pretend nothing happened and he was just dreaming. It couldn't get worse right? 

It's been a couple of days since that incident, you avoid your boss every time he tries to get you alone, you feel shit every single time you go on a mission or make some dumb excuses to avoid him.

It's late at night as you were hiding at your favorite spot, on top of the roof drinking away.

Maybe it is for the best that you keep avoiding him… you hear the creak of the door as you take a long sip.

" dabi, I don't wanna hear you bitch-... " you turn your head to see the boss emerging out and coming towards you, you immediately shut up after you see him. His eye bags were dark and his expression looked.. sad like he was crying.

He quietly sat on the edge of the roof as you took another sip.

You can feel it, his aura is intense, you shouldn't have avoided him, you thought he wasn't bothered by it a few days ago but it was definitely eating him alive.

Before you have time to speak, he started." Why? " It was short and simple..

His crimson eyes fill with sadness as he turns towards you. 

" Why are you avoiding me?? Is it because I'm that ugly to YOU.." you weren't expecting his voice to boom so loud, you can feel the pain in his voice as he shakes.

" I-.. " there was a tear coming down his scarred cheeks.

" Is that why you're too ashamed of my presents?? " he tilted his head angrily as the angry build up.

" are you seen someone, is that why you're avoid-.."

" no no no shigaraki.. please calm down. "You try your best to respond to him but the heat and venom he spits out as more tears slide down.

" I know what happened that night y/n I-..." he leaned towards you as he pulled you close. He puts his face towards your chest as he begins to sob out.

You weren't expecting him to cry and his emotions getting out of hand, why did you avoid him? Maybe you should have talked about it sooner.

" hey… shigaraki. " he looks up at you with hope as he wet your shirt with his tears.

" Listen boss, I didn't know it would affect you badly.. the reason why was because I was scared. " he narrowed his eyes towards you.

" I just thought leaving the room was best for us…." You started to tear up too.

" I thought you weren't interested in me because you were kind of dick towards me." It was true in the beginning Tomura was rude and thought you could get killed easily and would get captured by the heros if you go on a mission but he was actually protecting you from dangerous situations, he didn't want to lose you.

" I'm sorry for causing all of this. "You rarely use your quirk on others because it feels like you are invading their private thoughts, you only use it when it's an important mission.

So you were curious about what he was thinking right now.

You activate your quirk, your normal eye color turns into a bright orange hue.

( so you're not mad about me? Don't find me hideous. Are you staying here with me love please stay… ) your cheeks turn pink, you feel bad for causing this, feeling shit for having him work up over your shitty behavior.

" No, I'm not leaving tomura..." you rub his tears away as you smile softly.

(Shit you're using your quirk.. can you hear this part just for me. ) you see shigaraki start to smirk as he bites his lips.

(Listen to me, I'll fuck you so hard that you won't be walking for days you hear me. ) his eyes clouds with lust as you start to fluster red.

(Keep me waiting for so long, you were driving me insane. Your body… fuck.) His eyes look down at your body as he makes eye contact.

(You have no idea how I wanna fuck you the day you join the League.. please let me have you. ) you deactivate your quirk as you squeak a little, you weren't expecting him to think like that towards you and now you feel hot and bothered by it.

" you didn't answer my question y/n~ " he purrs at you, pulling you closer.

" Now we're on this topic, I'm gonna ask you on that day. " he tilted his head as he spoke.

" Remember you telling me you have one quirk right? " You tilt your head should you answer the first one or the second one.

" Yes to the first one and why? " Tomura purring like a cat as he pulls you onto his lap as he growls at you.

" watch this. " He carefully moves his hand towards you, putting his hand on your thighs.

You finch expecting to get killed off by him.

" what the fuck shigaraki-.. " he tilted his head as he smile.

" look… " you see his hand playing the soft flesh as he kneads it tender.

You blink a few times, you've been with them for one year and you always see shigaraki destroying everything with his hands.

" wha-.. " Tomura leaned in as he was inches towards your lips.

" see I'm not hurting you my love.. you're alive. " seeing his hand grip the soft skin as he plays with it.

" I have a second quirk?? " You say out loud costing tomura to chuckle, you always had one quirk throughout your whole life. The doctor never mentioned you had a second quirk nor did your family.

You watch his hand slide up your thighs as it reaches closer to your core.

" Do you wanna continue this gameplay with me, player two? " he said seductively as he played with your hair softly.

You feel something hard poking your entrance as he bites his lips, he rolls his hips up to make you feel everything.

" You don't have to continue this, we can take it nice and slow.. " he leaned in to lick your ear.

" It's your choice after all, princess~. "

[shallowseeker]

John, asleep at the wheel:

And some other neat motifs.

Antlers/deer on the case, guns:

//

Another clock, a forlorn "sock monkey" on the floor, as lifeless as the sleeping John watching a war film, his connection to Vietnam:

///

Besides the threat of doppelganger, John is also a door sentry, meant to protect the most precious inhabitants of home. But he is failing completely. He is like Gadreel, like Castiel, the would-be sentry, but he is exhausted from the fight, asleep as the snake (Azazel) enters the (nursery) garden.

He feels responsible for ruining the universe.

Even with his background as a soldier, and with his weapons at his side... he is underprepared. Mary didn't share the dangers with him.

///

Mary is the only one who knows about the demon (shhh), and she has taken the fight solely upon herself, and now the demon has slipped past her secondary position as defender of the hearth.

And the hearth will go up in flames.

Mary Winchester’s death is more than personal tragedy—it’s a deliberate act by the "narrative," elevating her to a sacrificial offering. Suspended on the ceiling, engulfed in flames, she becomes both an offering by the demigod Azazel and a symbolic gesture to the story itself.

Her death lights the hearth that fuels the Winchesters’ path, burning her as a martyr to a cosmic design.

///

Meanwhile, Sam, marked as an anti-Christ figure, begins his own grim preparation—fattened for eventual sacrifice to the same ruthless gods of story, who demand pain, blood, and obedience to their grand, harrowing tale.

And while Mary is elevated in fire... John falls.

John's words about Dean: "I've got him," and to Sam, "Oh, Sammy it's okay," are maybe the last times he'll truly have these sentiments for his kids.

He gets himself together for a moment, enough to get his kids out of the fire.

"Don't look back. GO! Now, Dean!" And we see little Dean descend, looking for safety. Dean will often be associated with low places; valleys, shelters, bunkers.

///

Then, John hopelessly goes BACK for Mary, screaming "No!" He doesn't want to believe what's right in front of his eyes.

And so, Sam's nursery burns. The thrust of the fire raining from the "Heavenly" narrative above, reaching down to ignite the crib-mobile, the symbol of John's hope.

Symbolically consuming his hope and his body, mimicking the motion of the Supernatural title card as it rolls towards him.

Outside, Dean is already echoing John's role, echoing the words, "It's okay, Sammy."

And John bookends it, echoing his earlier words about Dean at the beginning of the episode: "I've got you!"

And here begins the illness.

After the adrenaline wears off, John cannot comprehend what he's seen. Mentally wounded by Azazel, he is set on the path of "becoming the monster/Azazel." (That is what revenge will do to him.)

They may have escaped the fire, but inside, John is in Hell. This happened on his watch. (Mary hadn't trusted him enough to tell him anything.)

[andy-wm]

Jiminie joining Tae's fanmeet is a comfort food for my soul.

They had so much fun!

Friendship goals right here 🥰

And they sang friends too 🥰🥹

eta: this is gold...

ngl, the bart Simpson/Jimin shenanigans were a highlight 🤣🤣

All those hideously hateful antis who called him a homewrecker and dozens of other despicable things, can go sit on a cactus.

I hope their socks slip down into their shoes for eternity.

I hope their favourite food starts giving them indigestion.

I hope they get horrible BO on the most important day of their lives.

😤

All done with negativity now!

🌼😁🌼

Cr to: https://x.com/ausieyy?t=xRC8FM9id9o_QB-FMFbtsQ&s=09

https://twitter.com/stussyjimin/status/1713130867152031818?t=HWsEhaWXXbI-fwV1ICnpOA&s=19

https://twitter.com/pjmngallery/status/1713126275525554398?t=HWsEhaWXXbI-fwV1ICnpOA&s=19

https://twitter.com/951230_951013/status/1713150095523500275?t=HWsEhaWXXbI-fwV1ICnpOA&s=19

[luthienebonyx]

She’d been a diminutive woman before, but she’d shrunk to about four and a half feet tall, and her skin was now a light blue, like the sky on a clear day. Her white, haphazardly-cut hair was almost exactly the same as before, but it fit with her smaller frame, and it no longer looked so sickly. She floated about a foot off the ground, and I noted she still wore the anti-slip socks from Meadow Lark. The privacy bubble around her head was like a nimbus, making her look like one of those haloed figures in a renaissance painting. She was leaning over the bar, waving her hand furiously at the badger-headed bartender, who was serving someone else down the line. “Look at how beautiful she is,” Donut whispered. “She’s like a vision of pure elegance.” “Yo,” Elle cried at the bartender. “Whose dick do I gotta suck to get another drink? Christ.”

Matt Dinniman: The Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook: Dungeon Crawler Carl Book 3

[archived-junkissed]

the secret garden

member — seokmin x gn reader genre — fluff :) happy valentine's day! word count — 2.2k warnings — none! notes — this is for @hvcmixtape's valentine's day song collab!! this fic is based on: "like real people do" by hozier

be sure to check out the other participants in the collab - masterlist here!

“hey, honey?”

seokmin looks up at the sound of your voice trailing in from the other room. “yeah?” he calls back.

“i’m off to the store to get stuff for dinner, okay? i’ll be back in a while. text me if you need anything!”

he smiles. “ ‘kay. love you!”

“love you too!” you reply.

he closes his laptop, waiting. minutes later he hears the front door click shut and faintly, the sound of your car starting as you drive away.

when he’s sure you’re gone, he gets up from his chair, peeking out through the doorway of his office before walking out into the house.

the sliding glass door to your backyard opens with a squeak as seokmin slips outside, quickly crossing the yard. he struggles a little moving the heavy birdbath, but once it’s out of the way he finds what he’s looking for.

it’s purposefully hard to get to; hidden behind a cluster of small trees and shrubs and covered even further by the birdbath, because he needs to make sure you won’t see it, unless you knew exactly where to look.

he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees everything in place, just as it was when he last checked a few days ago.

he’s been planning this since last february, when he originally planned on doing this for you; except the squirrels got to it a few days before he could and he had to rush to buy cheap roses from the grocery store down the street because all the florists had been sold out for weeks. he’s still mad about that, and this year he made sure to cover everything in netting so it wouldn’t happen again.

he even bought anti-squirrel spray, and he feels kinda bad about using chemicals, but he didn’t want to risk a natural, chemical-free repellant not working and forcing him to settle for something store bought for a second year in a row. sorry, squirrels.

but thanks to—or perhaps, in spite of—his precautions this year, his gift is perfectly safe and sound. his flowers are coming along perfectly.

they’re right on the verge of blooming: the buds just barely beginning to open, just in time for valentine’s day in a week.

of course, he’s got the classic v-day flowers: deep red roses, pink speckled carnations, white daisies.

but he knows he can do better than that. any moron with a packet of seeds can grow roses in their backyard. so he’s planted some of your other favorites too, ones that took a little more planning to pull off. honeysuckle, tulips, and daffodils, some of your favorites, take up one corner of the flower bed.

the work and research put into getting everything right has been tedious, but seokmin is an ambitious man, and he would only attempt it for you. sure, it probably cost more in time, effort, and supplies than ordering a nice bouquet online would have, but he likes doing things himself, and he likes that his way is more personal.

it’s been many months of diligently deleting the search history on his computer so you don’t see the hour and a half of googling things like “how often do i water carnations” and “are worms good for plants” and “how much sunlight for tulips” every day.

not that he thinks you’d go looking, but he can never be too careful when dealing with surprises. not after two christmases ago when you found your (unwrapped) presents sitting behind the washing machine when your sock had fallen down there; no, he’s learned his lesson.

he heads to the shed along the side of the house to grab the scissors from the shelf of gardening supplies, along with a small watering can.

he’s glad you never end up sticking to your annual new year’s resolution to start gardening more, because if you had, you probably would’ve found his secret flowers already. although maybe after this, he might be able to convince you to come outside and garden with him every once in a while. it’s actually kind of fun, and it’s satisfying seeing his hard work turn into something beautiful.

when he’s done trimming the dead leaves and making sure the plants have enough water, he carefully replaces the netting and moves the birdbath back into place. he puts the gardening scissors and watering can where they belong before heading back inside, carefully sliding the door shut behind him and locking it again.

he’s just finishing washing the dirt off his hands when he hears your car pull up into the driveway, and he can’t help the smile that grows across his face at just the thought of you. he flicks his hands, gives them a quick wipe with a towel before opening the front door and going out to meet you at the car and help you carry everything inside.

the next few days pass by quickly, and before seokmin knows it, it’s the night before valentine’s day.

he’s just gotten back from work, having left early to make sure he has time before you get home, leaving him plenty of time to get everything ready for tomorrow. 

he opens the back door, leaving it open so he can hear your car pulling up in case you get home earlier than expected.

crossing the yard he feels like a kid on christmas eve, sneaking out of bed to peek at their presents before christmas morning. he’s excited for his months of planning to finally come together, and he can’t wait to see the look on your face tomorrow when he finally gets to give it to you.

he carefully cuts the flowers, picking out the prettiest and brightest blooms and setting them in a little container so he can take them inside without damaging them. 

back in the house he stands over the counter, thinking about how to put everything together. he’s watched countless videos on how to do different kinds of flower arrangements, but sitting in front of the flowers he grew himself, ready to start, it’s a little more nerve-wracking than he had thought.

he’s only got one shot at doing this right, and although there’s still some flowers left outside that he didn’t cut, it won’t be enough to make a completely new bouquet.

he takes a deep breath, eyes flicking across the counter from the daffodils to the daisies before he finally settles on the roses first. gingerly he picks one up and sets it in the vase he bought, already lined with floral tape and filled with just the right amount of water.

one by one he carefully places the flowers in the vase, trying his best to add layers and make everything look nice and organized.

it takes him a little while but finally it’s finished, and he stands back, admiring his work. it’s not as perfect as he’d hoped it would be, but he has to admit it looks pretty damn good for an amateur florist like himself. it definitely would've looked nicer had he bought a pre-made arrangement instead, but he's so happy with everything that the thought of buying flowers doesn't even cross his mind.

he checks his watch, surprised to see how much time has passed as he hurries to put the arrangement in a hiding spot (one that you won’t accidentally find this time) and put your other presents together in a little pink gift bag covered in hearts.

he hears the front doorknob turn just as he’s taking things out of the refrigerator to get started making dinner (it’s your night to cook, but he wants to keep you out of the kitchen and away from the hidden presents).

as always, you greet him with a smile and a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your head against his shoulder. the corners of your eyes crinkle in joy when you see that he’s making your favorite dinner, and you start telling him about your exhausting work day as he cooks.

you’ve decided to take the holiday off and call in sick tomorrow, preferring to spend a nice, romantic day with your husband, so you aren’t in bed as early as you usually would be on a work night. instead, you’re cuddled up on the couch after dinner, talking late into the night about everything and nothing at all. it’s these evening with seokmin that you love the most; the quiet days when you can just be around each other and everything feels safe and comfortable.

and he doesn’t even mind when you fall asleep on his shoulder and he has to gently tap you awake to bring you to bed. in fact, he couldn’t be happier.

the next day he sets his alarm and wakes up before you, sneaking out of bed and tucking his side of the blankets against you so that you won’t immediately notice he’s gone.

by the time you wake up a little while later, the smell of breakfast is already wafting into the room as seokmin carries a tray of waffles and fruit, topped with whipped cream and strawberries in the shape of a heart.

his face breaks into a grin when he sees you awake, carefully handing you the platter of food.

you smile sleepily at him, still letting your eyes adjust to the morning sunlight. “hi, baby.”

he giggles, sitting on his side of the bed next to you. “hi sweetheart. happy valentine’s day.”

he nods at the plate, wordlessly asking you to try the food, and you oblige, cutting off a big piece of waffle. and of course, like everything seokmin does, it’s— 

“—so good,” you moan through a mouthful of food, savoring the taste. “you spoil me,” you say as you motion to the spread on your lap.

he giggles. “you deserve to be spoiled. and besides, you haven’t even seen everything yet.”

you pretend to be shocked, gasping exaggeratedly. “there’s more?” 

after many years with seokmin, you know he’s probably got something insanely elaborate up his sleeve, but you’re still not used to the way he treats you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. and to him, you are.

he sits with you while you finish your breakfast, leaving only to take your dish back to the sink while you get up and throw some clothes on.

you meet him in the kitchen and immediately see the counter covered in little gifts, but the focal point of the arrangement is a huge case full of flowers, bright pinks and whites and reds with little hints of green spread throughout.

"minnie, this is so…" you start, your voice breaking a little as you walk towards the little display. "these flowers are gorgeous. you must've spent a fortune, you shouldn't have!"

he blushes a little, twining his fingers together. "i didn't!"

you narrow your eyes at him in confusion, and he continues. "i didn't spend anything on them," he repeats. "i grew them myself. so– well, yeah, technically i did buy the bulbs and the seeds and the fertilizer, but i got them on sale so it wasn't that much…" he trails off when he sees you staring at him, mouth hanging open. "what?"

"you grew these?" you ask in shock.

he grins proudly. "i did! and i arranged it myself, too, does it look okay? the carnations wouldn't stick to the tape right, so i had to just– y'know, shove them in there. but they look fine, right?"

you think you might cry at how thoughtful and perfect and wonderful he is, and he's explaining something about squirrels but you're not paying attention because all you can see is the way the smile on his face reaches all the way up to his eyes and the way he scrunches up his nose when he talks, and all you can think about is how happy it makes him when he makes you happy and how happy it makes you when he's happy and how you couldn't be more in love with this man if you tried.

so you do the only thing you can think to do: throw your arms around him and kiss him like it's your first kiss, your last kiss, and every kiss in between all wrapped up into one, and the way he instantly melts into your arms is worth more than any present or expensive floral arrangement he could buy for you. his gifts mean a lot, but nothing comes close to the giddy feeling bubbling up in your stomach when your lips are on his and his arms are softly hugging your waist and his nose is just barely brushing your cheek, and it's the most wonderful feeling in the whole entire world.

and when you finally break apart he's got that sickeningly in-love look on his face, and you know that everything in your life has been leading up to this moment; when you both have so much love you can't physically hold it in, and it spills out over into everything you do for each other. nothing else matters except you and him, your sunshine husband who grows homemade bouquets of flowers for you.

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[mlarayoukai]

I have really bad sensory issues and I want to wear socks but we have ceramic flooring but the socks with anti slip, I feel every grove and bump and it's bugs me. I believe this is what Dante wrote about in the Divine Comedy