#because why the hell WOULD an Inkling try and do something like this?

[annasofromafiles]

So, this is Ends (full name, 'The Ends Justify the Means') an Inkling Scientist that migrated down to the Octarian Empire thirty years before the start of the first splatoon game. She managed that by pretending to be an Octoling because Inklings 'don't get the joy of mucking about with genetics and bio hazards like Octolings do'.

The whole basis for this character is partly that Inklings canonically do NOT know when they're talking to an Octoling if they're not aware this is an option (see Marina's entire backstory along with the everything with the Octolings coming to the surface for years before the expansion).

The other half is that Cuttlefish mentions going 'undercover' in the Octoling empire, indication that there is a chance Octolings might have the same blind spot if they think its impossible for an Inkling to get into the empire.

Hence Ends.

The one Inkling stupid and smart enough to get into the Deep Sea Line, and then down to the Octoling Empire, join their study programs and get a position building bio weapons to use against squids. Which she is. And who her family is, even if she doesn't talk to them much due to the whole 'living in the Octarian Empire' thing.

This turns out great for her long term and definitely doesn't lead to a far to late realisation of 'oh no, these weapons are going to be used on people even if i just built them to see if i could'. Absolutely nothing that deals with the terrible consequences of a new variant of the primordial ooze used to make Sanitized Octolings she starts work on after getting Sanitized herself and having her self-control and moral compass wrecked.

Definitely.

[sungbeam]

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

nonidol!choi san x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)

turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.

3.7k words, neighbors au (2 lovers), fluff, maybe like two swear words, drinking, lots of mentions of food

a/n: low-key just read this like ur watching the highlight reel of a romcom lol but @jaehunnyy for u 💖 i hope u like it :'))

It all started about seven months ago when a gorgeous Thai cat waltzed into your apartment via the open window. It was a late July afternoon, stiflingly hot and sticky, meaning you had your window opened and the mobile fan set up to blow cool air into the apartment.

You were, for once, not at work. Because the art museum you worked at downtown was currently undergoing reconstruction, you were stuck in your apartment trying (failing) to sell prints off your low-traffic Etsy shop while also trying (failing) to make popsicles.

“Why is this so complicated?” You grumbled aloud as you sat on top of your kitchen counter with your knees pulled beneath your chin. You scrolled down the recipe again on your laptop screen, nose wrinkled at the amount of convoluted steps listed. “Too fancy,” you decided, slamming your laptop lid closed.

Immediately, you hissed, lifting the lid to make sure you hadn't cracked the screen from closing it too hard. Thankfully, there were no cracks visible and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You could not afford a broken—

“Holy shit!” You nearly fell off the back of the island counter at the sight of a light gray cat with black tipped ears, paws, and tail seated on the floor before you.

The cat meowed an innocent greeting.

You pressed your hand to your hammering heart and shifted to get a grip on your position atop the counter. “How—? Where…?” Your eyes drifted to the open window.

Oh. Well, that would explain it.

You glanced back at the cat, who peered up at you once more. “Meow.”

Carefully, you climbed down from the counter as to not scare the creature with any sudden movements. “Hey, baby. Where did you come from, hm?” You cooed, extending your hand out as an offer to be sniffed.

The cat unfurled its tail out from around its body and crept toward your hand. With an experimental sniff, you were deemed safe, and the cat rubbed the side of its face affectionately against the back of your knuckles.

Your chest nearly exploded from the cute interaction. You lowered yourself to your knees, gently taking a peek at the silver charm attached around the collar. There you found the engraving of a star in the metal circle.

“I'm guessing this has something to do with your name?” You hummed, reaching up to scratch the feline behind the ears and head. At least you had an inkling that this little one belonged to someone. You just didn't know how to find out who they were.

“I guess you can hang out with me,” you sighed and stood up with your hands on your hips. You didn't mind the company, after all, and maybe this could be a point of inspiration.

About three hours later, the summer sun still hung relatively high in the sky and you were trying to figure out what to feed the cat when there came a sudden knock at your front door. Really, the “sudden knock” was a series of rushed, panicked DUDUDUDU sounds. You nearly jumped out of your skin for the second time in one afternoon, and even the cat seemed to leap.

Well, the cat only looked mildly annoyed that her nap was interrupted, but she seemed content to give a languid stretch and join you in seeing who was so alarmed at your door.

When you peered out the peephole, your eyes shot open.

There was a pretty man at your door.

You glanced down at the cat who looked back up at you. You mouthed to her, pointing at the door, ‘Do you know this guy?’

As expected, she did not answer. Lovely.

You weren't exactly in appropriate garb to see people. You had thrown on something cool enough to not make you melt like one of the popsicles you weren't able to make earlier, and enough to cover any necessary areas. You were sure your hair looked about as luxurious as a barn, and there wasn't a lick of cosmetics on your face.

It was fine, you told yourself. You probably weren't even going to see this guy ever again.

You opened the door. “Hello? Can I help you?” You asked through the chain linking the door shut.

The man flashed you a flustered, dimpled smile at you. His dark hair was damp, like he just came out of a shower, and he had on a muscle tee that was definitely doing its job, and a pair of basketball shorts. “Hi! So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen a Thai cat wandering around here about yea high—?”

“Meow.” The cat at your feet shoved her way between the gap you made with the door and out into the hallway.

Your eyes widened another smidge, until the man outside released a gasp of relief and bent down to scoop the feline up into his arms. You unlatched your door and opened it fully now, the man holding the cat to his face as if he was communicating with her telepathically.

“That's the cat, I'm guessing?” You mused.

He tucked her back into his arm and his smile became sheepish. “Yes, I am so sorry about her. I came back home from work and she wasn't in the apartment, but thank you for dealing with her for however long she was here.”

You waved off his concern with your hand, sending him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. She's adorable. What's her name, by the way?”

“Oh, this is Byeol,” he cooed, lifting Byeol's paw up to wave at you.

Swoon. Your smile widened as you waved back at them both. “Well, it was nice to meet you, both Byeol and…?”

“San,” he answered. God, he was gorgeous. That smile… “And you are?”

“Yn.” You shook each other's hands in the dim hallway light.

“Nice to meet you, too, Yn.” He lit up, pointing up to the ceiling. “Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm your upstairs neighbor!”

You opened the door to your apartment wider so you could show him your open window. “Well, that would definitely explain how she got down onto my fire escape,” you chuckled.

He whistled lowly. “Man, cats are scary sometimes. I'll definitely try to keep an eye on whenever she's near my window now.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Byeol's spine. “I don't wanna take up any more of your time, but thanks again.”

“No worries! Have a nice night.”

“You too!”

San began walking back toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, and you were about to close the door when you thought you heard him chastising his cat in hushed tones. You laughed to yourself as you locked up your front door. You wouldn't mind if Byeol came traipsing down your fire escape again.

And she would. About three times a week when San had a later shift at the boxing gym he worked at (yes, a boxing gym… good lord). Byeol oftentimes expected you to have your window open, and if you didn't already have it open, she would sit out on the fire escape until you did.

Two months into the fire escape escapades, you gave up and left the window open just enough for her to squeeze through while you returned to work.

San would always come down to your apartment to retrieve her, and at some point, decided to swing by your apartment on his way up instead just to make sure she wasn't already here.

By month four when the days were shorter and the nights dragged longer and colder, you couldn't exactly keep the window open, lest you wanted to freeze your ass off in the safety of your apartment. Byeol would hop down the fire escape in the evenings when you were back so you could let her in, only for her owner to come barreling down the stairs, dimpled cheeks flushed and exasperated.

“I swear she likes you more than me,” he guffawed from where he stood out in the hallway as he always did. He shook his head as he watched the Thai feline waltz around his legs once, then circle back into your apartment. He arched a brow at her. “Look at her strutting. She knows exactly what she's doing.”

You swore there was a dash of red gracing his cheekbones now.

You bit your lip through a smile. “Well, you're welcome to come in. I was just about to eat dinner and I don't really think I can finish this roast chicken alone.”

“Ah, I don't really wanna impose,” he drawled, scratching the back of his neck and peering at you from beneath those lengthy lashes of his. He knew what he was doing—he had to know what he was doing. If Byeol could strut, then so could Choi San.

He promised to take you up on your offer as long as you let him run upstairs to grab a bottle of wine to contribute.

The last thing you expected to happen was to hear a knock on your window less than ten minutes later. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound, folding over in laughter when you saw him waving to you on the other side with cold-bitten cheeks and a red-tipped nose. He clutched a bottle of red in one hand and gestured furiously to the window latch. “It's fucking freezing!”

“Okay, okay,” you grinned, walking over to let him inside. “Just so you know,” you said as Byeol welcomed her owner into your apartment, “usually it's just cats who come in this way.”

“Well, you might have to get used to a cat and a human coming in now,” he teased. San presented you the wine bottle with a flourish. “Milady, your beverage.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you jested and accepted the offering. “Make yourself at home!”

What you didn't expect was for such a statement to be taken so literally, and yet, you had no complaints.

Three months further along—making it seven in total since that first hot July day Byeol came in through the open window—you and San (and Byeol) were cooped up in your apartment as usual. It was a Friday night with dinner on the table, a TV show playing in the background, and a pair of wine glasses for the pair of you. Over the past few months, sharing a dinner together had become a weekly event wherein San would come in via window, and the two of you would have the evening together.

Sometimes it was just dinner, sometimes it was dinner and a movie, and sometimes it was even dinner, a movie, and drunk Pictionary. But every Friday night was yours and San's night.

Plus, he turned out to be a much better cook, so you definitely couldn't argue when he somehow wrestled his entire Le Creuset pot down the fire escape to feed you the most divine lobster mac 'n’ cheese you had ever tasted. (As if you'd ever had lobster mac 'n’ cheese before…)

“I feel like it would just be more convenient if I came up to your apartment instead,” you said with enthusiasm, your free arm flailing around as you melted dark chocolate on a double boiler upon the stove top. While San had the right side of the stove for his chicken and gnocchi soup, you had the left to prepare tonight's mousse for dessert. If San made dinner, you figured you could at least learn a thing or two about a dessert course.

He chuckled, “I mean, I'm not opposed if you ever get tired of hosting. I'm kind of a creature of habit though, which is why I don't mind coming down every week, but it's up to you, sweets.”

Oh, right. And the nickname. You couldn't even pinpoint when that started, but again, you weren't complaining.

“I don't mind hosting either,” you told him, “it's just that it's either you leave your super expensive cookware here or I go upstairs. I don't think Le Creuset has fire escape insurance.”

“You're not wrong about that.” You felt his hand gently brush against your waist as he slipped past you to get to the spice cabinet on your left. “Behind you,” he murmured by your ear before grabbing the jar of Himalayan salt (also his) and returning to his station behind his pot.

You couldn't deny the pitter-patter of your heart around him either. Things were coming to a point that you didn't know how to label. But perhaps that was the beauty of everything slipping into place. You carried on, “I think I've seen your apartment once, and that was when Byeol wouldn't stop meowing until I followed you guys.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. That had been an interesting night.

“If it's any consolation, your apartment has much more life in it than mine.”

“That's a lie,” you said pointedly. “Yours is just more meticulous.”

He snorted. “Meticulous. Might as well be as barren as a clinic.”

You passed him a glance. “I offered to paint your walls…”

San beamed back at you, dimples creating divots in the apples of his cheeks. “And I never said no! But—I do think that it should be something the both of us do together.”

Your brows creased as you took the chocolate off the stove to fold into the other mixture you'd set aside. “You wanna paint with me?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost bashfully. “I think it'd be a fun bonding and learning experience. And it would be cool to see you in your element, besides when you're drunk.”

The latter comment had you turning away to laugh. “Fair enough.”

When dinner was ready to be dined, and the mousse was freezing in the fridge, you and San sat at the kitchen island with your matching bowls of hot soup and glasses of lemon water for the night. Neither of you had remembered to buy wine for the week (surprisingly), but one week without alcohol wouldn't hurt.

The two of you clinked your glasses together, toasting to another week survived.

You took a sip, then spooned the soup into your mouth, wiggling around on your stool in a little happy dance as the flavors did their own dance on your tongue.

San smiled around his own bite. He swallowed, then said, “You know, I always know I did well when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That cute little dance,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it tastes good, is what I'm saying, sweets.”

Your skin warmed, and you managed to convince yourself it was the soup or the heater or something and not the beautiful man beside you. “Then get used to the happy jig, because everything you cook tastes divine. You should be a chef, San.”

“I could've,” he shrugged, “but I kind of like this little life.” He gestured to you with his spoon, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don't you?”

For a moment, you let the smile slowly unfurl onto your lips. You lifted your own spoon in agreement. “You're right. It's a lovely, little life.”

Now that you were in agreement, you fell into a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your dinner in one another's presence. Byeol was hunched over her own bowl of food just by the foot of your stool, against the adjacent side of the island. You'd gone out and bought her a pair of food and water bowls, as well as her preferred food. San had been touched by the gesture, and Byeol most definitely appreciated it.

San wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, by the way, next week.”

You hummed. “What about it?”

“Are you doing anything?”

You perked up, eyebrows lifting to your hairline. “Why do you ask?” It was usually unsaid by now that Friday nights were set aside for the two of you to share an evening, which was why you were confused by his question.

And then he explained, “It's Valentine's Day, so I just wanted to make sure I didn't interrupt or assume anything.” He'd said it so casually and easily that you nearly missed the slight nervousness in his voice, or the minor intonation of hope. “I mean,” he fumbled, “if you do have something planned, then it's no worries, really. There are plenty of other weeks—”

You shook your head, finishing off your water after having scraped your bowl clean. “I'm not doing anything,” you said. “Well, besides what we usually do.” You chuckled to yourself, “To be honest, Valentine's Day completely slipped my mind this year.”

And if you were truly being honest with yourself, every Friday felt like Valent—no. You shouldn't think like that. It would only make things worse about how you felt for him now. Plus, these past few months with San felt far too casual, too domestic, to be like Valentine's Day. Was Valentine's Day not for grand gestures and romance? This wasn't grand… though, you could probably argue about the romantic part…

“No, I feel the same way,” he nodded. “My friend Wooyoung just asked today if I was up to go to a single's party, which was why I suddenly remembered.”

Ah. “Oh, are you planning on going?” Wine sounded pretty good right about now.

He grimaced. “Probably not. I—I was kind of hoping you wanted to still do dinner next week—but, like, it doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. If that's what you're comfortable with.”

It doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. What if you wanted it to mean more than how it usually was? There was nothing inherently wrong with how it usually was, but you couldn't deny that a part of you yearned for more. That part of you imagined what it was like if San didn't have to come see you via fire escape, and he was always in the same space as you.

There was a pause as you wrestled with your own conscience about how or if you were going to admit it to him.

He pressed his lips together. “I've made you uncomfortable.”

“No, you haven't made me uncomfortable,” you assured him swiftly. “I just…” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead then returning it to your lap. “Of course, I would love to have dinner with you next week, but I’d like it to mean something else—if you are comfortable with that.”

You watched as that beautiful smile you'd come to grow more fond of blossom onto his face. “I'd be more than comfortable with that—I’d be really happy with that, actually.”

“Good,” you said softly, unable to bite your own smile away. “Then dinner next week, it is.”

There was something fundamentally different about this next Friday night compared to the others. Specifically, the context by which you and San went into the Friday evening of Valentine's Day was completely different. The apartment was aglow with the same warmth as it usually boasted, but there was a bouquet of blood red roses in a glass vase on the kitchen counter beside a bottle of red wine.

San was at the stove, finishing off the last bit for dinner before it needed to simmer for a good thirty minutes. You were in the living room portion of your apartment, flipping through the vinyl records to play before you pulled one out and set it up. As you moved the needle onto the record, you placed the empty cover back into its slot and turned toward the kitchen.

You froze in your spot, skin warming at the sight of San leaning over the island counter with an adoring look in his eyes as he watched you. “What?” You laughed, subconsciously adjusting the sleeve of your blouse.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “You're just—you’re gorgeous.”

You were sure if your face didn't give it away, there must have at least been hearts floating around your head. “You cannot just say that,” you chided weakly as you walked over to where he was, your expression growing shy.

His smile widened and he rounded the counter to stand in front of you, your back pressed against the edge of the counter. “I can, too,” he teased. He stepped back once and held his arms out, fingers flicking toward him to beckon you forward. “C'mere. Can you dance?”

“Some.” Your eyebrows arched upward as you stepped forward and took his hands in yours. “Dancing and romancing, Choi San? What magic do you hope to enchant me with tonight?” You joked, moving your left hand to his shoulder.

“Perhaps magic that will leave your window open for me on nights other than Fridays,” he said sheepishly as the two of you began to sway to the music waltzing out from the record player. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fire escape—”

You let out a laugh, ducking your head toward your chests. He did the same, an embarrassed grin coming onto his face as his nose nudged against yours.

“That was god awful,” he winced in apology.

“It was,” you agreed teasingly, “but I'll let it slide because you're cute.”

He shot you a bright smile. “Oh? So I'm cute? I guess that makes two of us.”

You weren't really sure at what point you realized you had fallen for this man. It was sometime between the Himalayan salt lectures and the dancing like an old married couple in your kitchen, maybe. You thought about the day he showed up at your door panicking about a missing cat, and to a future where you might have found yourself in his living room painting murals on his walls. Or perhaps… not his living room, but both of yours.

As you danced with your chests pressed together, hearts beating rapidly in sync, you gazed into those beautiful, dark brown irises of his and sank further and further into those feelings. They were gradually making themselves a home in your chest.

“What're you thinking about, sweets?” He murmured as you tucked your head against his shoulder and the arm he had around your waist rubbed the small of your back.

The smell of his cologne made you inhale deeply. You could get used to this—his smell, the feel of his body under your fingertips, his presence intertwined with yours taking up space in the best possible way. “I'm thinking that Byeol is a good matchmaker.”

His chuckle rumbled through him and softly into your ear. “You're definitely right about that.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog and comment if u enjoyed!

atz m.list

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[r0-boat]

I'm genuinely surprised how many people would work a part-time job in hell This is for you

Whb Demon Kings discovering that MC is working a part-time job

Satan

It's like when your bestie pulls up on your lunch to bother your ass. This motherfucker would go through the drive-thru on His motorcycle to fuck with you and try to get your number with a stupid ass smile in his face. You're demon co-workers fucking cackling their ass off as Satan pretends he doesn't know you So he can get your number. He becomes friends with all of your co-workers. Wants to hang out with you and all of your coworkers after work.

Mammon

Mammon.exe stopped working

does not compute

working a job that pays pretty much pennies. Like why???? He genuinely cannot comprehend??? If you wanted a job okay he will provide you all of the greatest jobs that he could offer. Not even that-if you want money, he will gladly pay and give you an allowance if that's what you want. Is it because you're bored? Oh yes, it must be because you just want the experience of working like a commoner As well as gets even more money! Oh yes very greedy indeed..., of course; how could he have possibly not thought of that before?

Leviathan

"I don't care"

He has stayed up all night knowing your schedule. He knows that you've been hiding something from him. Jokes on you; he already knows about your stupid fucking secret. How dare you keep that from him!!! After he did a background check on the company, The employees, the manager, and any customer that spoke more than A few words to you on your first shift. He even comes in as a customer because he got jealous of how many devils that aren't him you see daily at your shift.

Beelzebub

You're most frequent customer, orders everything He can or request anything just to keep you in his gaze. Honestly he doesn't really do anything besides be there to watch you. And he tips you. He's there so often that your co-workers recognize him and frequently joined in to the workplace gossip. Probably has inside jokes from there too. Honestly the first king to realize you had a part-time job and he was extremely chill about it. He does ask when you get off every single day because he wants to take you somewhere after work.

Lucifer

He would rather you work under him and if he ever want to change your jobs he will pay much more and give you any amount of hours you want any days off you want. But if you say no not like he'll be upset. If you're happy with your job then who is he to stop you. But his proposition will always be open.

If you do work under him... ;)

Belphegor

Part of him is upset that you won't spend time with him as much but another part of him is excited. You're such a hard worker. He heard from other demons that humans like working he didn't know it was He only knows about an inkling of what the other kings are liked you even with Mammon's giant piggy bank of gold you still want to work? Respect.

He really likes that drive. Don't mind him if he (tries) to give you a massage after work.

[xomakara]

Desiring You

SUMMARY | When Jaehyun has an inkling that you were touching yourself and thinking of him, he wants to know all your sexual fantasies. PAIRINGS | Jaehyun/Fem!Reader GENRE | college au, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, fellatio, fingering, female masturbation, cunningulus, dirty talk RATING | Mature LENGTH | 6,435 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | 🙂 and now I will take a mini break from writing. (I'll be back next week lol)

"Fuck..."

After your date with Doyoung, you came back home feeling sexually frustrated. You were expecting to get laid tonight but that obviously didn’t happen. Even though you don’t really regret going on a date with him because he was nice and you enjoyed talking to him, you were hoping to have sex with him afterwards. But since that wasn’t happening, you decided to go ahead and try out some self-pleasuring.

You ran a hand along your chest while sitting on your bed. You knew your roommate and friend Jaehyun wasn’t coming home any soon. There was no reason for him to come home after his shift ended so early. He usually worked until midnight, sometimes later.

So it was a good thing that you were home alone. You wouldn’t have anyone interrupting you if you did decide to masturbate. Although, if he found out that you get off thinking about him it might not be such a great thing.

Not that you would ever admit that you get off thinking about him. If he found out he would definitely become curious and wonder why you fantasize about him. Of course, that wouldn’t bother you at all.

Thinking about him brought a smile to your face. How could you not think about him? Every time he looked at you with those beautiful eyes you immediately felt a little blush creep up on your face. How the hell did you start thinking about your friend in a sexual manner? Did you do something to inspire these feelings?

You weren’t sure what to call them; love or lust maybe? Those two terms seemed too strong. It was probably more of a sexual attraction towards him. Maybe that would be a better term to use.

Yeah, that sounds right. Sexual attraction sounds good.

What made you feel these feelings toward him? You’ve been friends for years. He has done nothing to make you feel this way other than be friendly and act like a normal person. You haven’t even kissed yet. Although, you would give anything to kiss those chocolaty lips of his.

Okay. Maybe this is starting to sound like you have a crush on him. A small crush. Yes, definitely a tiny crush. But is it possible that it could grow bigger?

You started to wonder if he felt the same way. Is he having fantasies about you too? Are you one of his many female fantasies? Is that even a possibility?

All this questioning made you wet.

Thinking about Jaehyun made you wet.

No matter how many times you go through this situation, you always end up becoming wet.

Well that’s convenient.

When you thought about this sexy man making you cum over and over again, it only added fuel to the fire. So naturally, when you were done touching your breasts, you reached under your bed and grabbed your favorite dildo. It was long, hard, and thick. Perfect for taking care of yourself whenever you need to.

As you slipped it into your pussy, you began thinking about your conversation with Jaehyun earlier today. What would happen if he discovered your secret desires? Would he think less of you? Would he still want to hangout with you knowing that you wanted to have sex with him? Was he already aware of your fantasies?

Just thinking about it was making you even more horny. Your mind was filled with images of you naked underneath Jaehyun while he fucks you from behind. His hands wrapped around your waist as you grinded against him. He leaned down and planted soft kisses on your neck before giving you another firm thrust inside of you. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours got louder and faster until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your orgasm rushed through you as you fell onto the floor panting.

Oh god…

This is exactly what you needed right now!

“Fuck, Jaehyun.” You said letting out a loud moan.

You picked up the pace of your movements as you became even more turned on by your own thoughts. It had been a while since you felt this way. As you sat there with a dildo buried deep inside of you, you let out a sigh of relief. All of the stress from school and work finally washed away as you lost yourself in your fantasy.

There was a knock on your door and you stopped mid stroke. Fuck! Was Jaehyun home? You grew anxious at the sudden thought of your roommate being home while you were masturbating about him. Could he tell what you were doing?

Oh my god, you are acting like an idiot. Of course he won’t know what you are doing. Just calm down.

Your heart began to race as you quickly finished off your session and removed the dildo from your pussy. It slid out with ease as you closed your legs together tightly. Leaning forward, you rested your head on your pillow and stared up at the ceiling, pulling your sheets to your naked body. After a few seconds, you finally relaxed and your breathing returned to normal. You heard your door creak open. When you lifted your head you saw Jaehyun standing in front of you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” he said quietly.

“N-no. That was just me getting myself off. It was nothing,” you replied. You knew what he was implying and it didn’t surprise you. Of course he knew what you were doing. “You didn’t hear me pleasuring myself did you?”

“Uh…” he paused, clearly trying to think of something to say. He scratched his head awkwardly before saying, “I guess I must have heard something but I wasn’t sure what.”

He tried to hide the fact that he knew exactly what you were doing. Well, of course he knew. Your rooms shared a wall. There was no way he didn’t hear anything. But it didn’t seem like he cared either. That actually made you feel pretty damn happy. “Sorry about that, I just got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, “are you ready for dinner? We’re meeting everyone else downstairs in twenty minutes.”

“Dinner? I thought we weren’t going anywhere tonight,” you said, getting up from your bed, ignoring the way Jaehyun looked at your naked body before he looked away. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before. There were times where you would shower and he would walk in on you and vice versa. You pulled on some clothes, combed your hair, and grabbed your purse before heading downstairs. “Where are we going anyway?”

“We’re eating at the place on the corner. There is a special for the night, half price drinks, so I told Johnny and the guys that we should check it out. He agreed,” Jaehyun explained as he led the way out of the apartment building and walked down the street.

Once outside, you realized that you hadn’t put on a bra under your tight cropped shirt. You shrugged it off though. You weren’t the kind of girl who wore bras unless she absolutely had to. Besides, no one was looking at you. In fact, most people were staring at Jaehyun. At least that was what it felt like. There were quite a few women gawking at him as they passed by.

Jaehyun didn't pay them any mind. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. His gaze seemed to linger on your breasts longer than usual. And when he glanced at your bare stomach, you could swear you saw a bulge appear beneath his pants.

Was he getting a boner?

As you walked, Jaehyun asked you questions about work, school and the upcoming summer break. But his focus was never on the conversation. Instead, his eyes kept returning to your body. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just flattering. You liked it when he looked at you. In fact, you loved it.

The restaurant you arrived at wasn’t very big. It consisted of three booths on each side and a bar in the middle where they served food and drinks. It wasn’t very busy so you were seated right away. It wasn’t long before you placed your order and ordered your first round of drinks. Once your orders were taken, Jaehyun turned to you and said, “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me.”

And with that he headed towards the restroom. Once you heard the door close, you lifted your glass to your lips and took a sip of your drink. Then you glanced over at the table next to you and noticed one of the girls sitting there with her friends. She was checking you out. You were the only single woman in the group. So of course she was paying attention to you.

Shaking off the awkward moment you felt on your skin, you continued to look around the restaurant. You noticed several men who were also checking you out. Some had their heads turned towards you and were talking amongst themselves while others were just staring.

They were all checking you out, but they all averted their attention when Jaehyun returned and slid into the seat beside you. The rest of your group arrived shortly after that and you ordered your second round of drinks. Soon enough you were drinking more and giggling with the guys, discussing various topics ranging from sports to celebrities.

You couldn't help but be aware that Jaehyun placed his left hand on your right thigh. To him, it was probably nothing. This was a casual setting and everyone around them was doing the same thing. It was innocent and fun. But for you, it was different. You were tipsy and feeling horny. So when Jaehyun placed his hand on your thigh, you were caught off guard.

At first, you froze. You wondered if he would remove his hand once he realized you weren’t comfortable.

But then you realized he wasn’t removing it because he enjoyed doing it. No, it was much worse than that. He was purposely putting his hand on your thigh because he wanted to. And what’s more? He knew you were going to like it.

That realization made you a little bit nervous. Did he do this often? Does he do this to every woman he meets? And why does it turn you on so much? Why can’t you stop thinking about him? It was making you crazy. Your entire body started to tingle and your pussy began to get moist. Suddenly, you had the urge to rub your clit and reach down between your legs.

Just the thought of doing that sent waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

After finishing your nth round of drinks, you excused yourself to go to the restroom. Once inside, you locked the door and leaned against the sink. You gripped the sink and took deep breaths. You needed to relax. Despite your raging need to actually get laid, you could wait until you get home. This was not the place nor time to satisfy those urges.

You walked back to the table, and was about to sit back down, when suddenly someone cleared their throat. Startled, you looked up to see Jaehyun smiling down at you. “How’s everything? Ready to leave yet?”

“Yeah, we should probably head home soon,” you responded, attempting to smile.

Jaehyun stood up from the booth and motioned for you to follow him. Walking behind him, you thought about asking him what he meant by leaving but decided against it. Instead, you chose to act like you didn’t notice anything. Maybe it was his intention to drive you wild and you would eventually ask him about it later. Who knows?

“Yeah, the guys want to resume the party back at our place.” He muttered, noticing the look of confusion you had on your face.

The walk back to your apartment seemed like forever. All the while, you attempted to ignore Jaehyun’s presence beside you. You tried focusing on the tall buildings that lined the streets instead. You listened intently to the conversations surrounding you, nodding your head occasionally in agreement or disagreement. Even though you weren’t really listening, you still managed to keep up with what everyone was saying. By the time you reached your building, you were exhausted.

When you entered the elevator, the doors closed shut and the elevator began its ascent. As you waited for the elevator to stop at your floor, you sighed deeply. What was happening to you? Years ago, you were fine and able to control your feelings for someone. Now here you were. Unable to control yourself and frustrated at the same time. You couldn’t take it anymore.

As soon as you and your friends all passed through your front door, you pushed your way through the crowd and headed straight for your room. Once inside, you locked the door and lay face down on your bed. You reached down between your legs and gently stroked your clit. You could feel the warm wetness flowing from your pussy as you began to moan softly.

Please let him come in here. Please let him come in here and fuck me hard. I want him to use me, make me cum over and over again. God please, just come in here and take care of me. Make me forget everything that has happened today. Fuck me until I scream out your name.

You began to rub harder as the pleasurable sensations intensified. Your fingers slipped between your wet folds and found their way inside of you. You felt an orgasm building up within you and increased your speed even more. Suddenly, you felt a finger slip inside of you and it caused you to groan loudly.

Your breathing became heavier and you tried to hold it back. But it was too late. You couldn’t control yourself anymore. The wave of pleasure overtook you. As you felt yourself climaxing, you closed your eyes and burrowed your face in your pillow to drown out the noise. When you finally regained your senses, you looked down at your fingers. They were coated with your juices.

Fuck. You really needed to get laid.

Wiping your hands clean on some clean towelettes, you walked back into the living room where the rest of your friends were waiting. They were having another great time chatting and laughing together. While some of them were talking about sports and entertainment news, two of them were sitting on the couch sharing a bottle of wine. Others were talking about future plans and vacations. None of them paid you any mind.

Except for Jaehyun.

He watched you carefully as you passed by him and smiled when he caught your eye. You immediately looked away and continued walking to the kitchen. Once there, you opened the refrigerator and took out a water bottle. You unscrewed the cap and took a quick drink.

Then you walked back to the living room. You avoided eye contact with him and pretended to be engrossed in what was being discussed around you. He did the same thing. Not wanting to make eye contact, you forced yourself to listen and participate in the conversation. It was difficult, especially since you were unable to take your eyes off of him. Every now and then you would catch him watching you and would quickly avert your eyes away. But when you turned your head away, you would catch him doing the exact same thing.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually, your friends decided to call it a night and left the apartment. When it was just you and Jaehyun in the living room, you grabbed a blanket from the couch and stretched it across your lap.

Jaehyun sat down on the couch opposite of you and picked up the remote. For the next half hour or so, he flipped through the channels on the television and settled on a cooking show. But every now and then he would glance at you. Sometimes he would smile and other times he would frown. But either way, you couldn’t look away. He was fascinating. 

And attractive. 

Very attractive.

Finally, you found something to say to him. “Jaehyun, what the fuck happened back at the restaurant? When your hand was on my thigh?"

Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Well you better try. If I hadn’t been so fucking tipsy, I would have kicked your ass out of here.”

Jaehyun chuckled and shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t your intention.”

"What is my intention?" you asked.

Jaehyun tilted his head to the side and cocked his eyebrow. "Hmm... I think you know, Y/N."

"Don't play games with me, Jaehyun," you snapped. "I'm not in the mood for it tonight."

"Why not? Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"Yes, actually there is. And you're partly responsible for it. You and your stupid hand. Do you do this to every woman you meet? Or are you doing this just to me?"

Jaehyun laughed. "You mean you've never had anyone touch you like that before?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I've had people touch me like that before. I'm not a virgin."

Jaehyun's expression grew serious. "Then how do you explain the way you reacted to me touching you?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I guess I was caught off guard. I didn't expect anyone to touch me like that. Especially you."

"But you liked it, right?" he asked.

Suddenly, you had no idea what to say. Part of you was embarrassed. But most of you wanted to get it over with. You didn't know why, but the sexual tension that was building between you both was unbearable. But the problem was you didn't know how to respond. After spending months fighting your attraction to him, you didn't know how to handle it now that it was happening.

"I suppose I did," you said quietly.

"Is that so?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Maybe..." you responded, trailing off.

"Tell me. Tell me exactly how you liked it."

There was no doubt in your mind that Jaehyun was completely dominating the situation. You just didn't know how to handle it. But at the same time, you also found it incredibly arousing. It was making you wet. So wet. So very, very wet. Your pussy felt like it was ready to burst. Yet at the same time, it was driving you crazy. How was that possible?

The sexual tension in the room thickened as you and Jaehyun stared each other down. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. “Okay. Well first, it felt good. But then it felt even better when I realized that you knew exactly what you were doing. That you knew exactly how I liked it.”

You heard Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle and leaned back on the couch. “That’s interesting. Why did you say that it felt even better? Was it because you were imagining that I was the one touching you?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation.

Jaehyun placed his feet on the coffee table and crossed his arms over his chest. His intense gaze bore into yours. “So you enjoyed fantasizing about me? About how good it would feel if I touched you like that? Did you ever imagine what I would taste like? How I would feel inside of you? How many times you would cum?”

He paused and gave you a smug grin. “Now that I think about it, I can’t help but wonder what else you imagined. And who you imagined it with. Did you picture me?”

You felt your heart race. He was reading your mind! You couldn’t believe it. But as much as you hated to admit it, you were flattered. And aroused. God, you were so turned on right now. The thought of having sex with Jaehyun was making you weak in the knees.

Without realizing it, your mouth started to water. You swallowed and tried to keep yourself from drooling. It was almost impossible.

“So tell me,” he pressed. “Who did you fantasize about?”

This was it. This was your chance. Now or never. You couldn’t waste this opportunity. “You,” you whispered.

“Oh really?”

You nodded slowly. “You… you’re the only person I ever pictured.”

Jaehyun leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. He pursed his lips and stared at you. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you said firmly.

He stood up and stepped closer to you. “So when you were getting off earlier, did you think about me?”

His words sent shivers down your spine. You nodded slowly and bit your lip. You could see the desire burning in his eyes.

“Did you dream about my body? Did you dream about the way I would feel inside of you? Did you picture our faces as we kissed?”

You gulped and closed your eyes. Oh god. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop.

Jaehyun smirked. “Do you like that image? Do you want to feel my cock inside of you? Do you want me to fuck you until you cum over and over again? Would you let me eat you out until you begged me to stop? Would you let me cum all over your pretty little face?”

As soon as he said those things, you knew he was going to do it.

And you were going to let him.

You were suddenly overcome with excitement. Your clit throbbed and you desperately needed release. Your breath hitched in anticipation. All you could think about was letting Jaehyun finally give you what you wanted. All you wanted was to feel his warm tongue teasing your inner thighs. To feel his fingers pressing against your swollen clit. To feel his cock filling you up. You moaned loudly and dropped your head back on the couch.

“Oh yes,” you moaned. “Please. Please. Please. Fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Very nice.”

“Oh please,” you begged. “Just do it. Just fuck me already.”

Jaehyun's eyes darkened. “Oh, baby. You sure are begging for it. Are you sure you want it? Are you sure you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Jaehyun removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants. Then he unzipped his fly and pulled out his stiffening cock. As soon as he saw you staring at it, he gasped. “Look at you. You’re absolutely beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

His eyes drifted down to your exposed breasts. “Your nipples are getting so hard. They’re practically bursting through your shirt. Do you want them sucked? Do you want me to suck them until they’re red and swollen?”

You nodded frantically. Yes, please.

“Fuck, baby." Jaehyun moaned out. "Get on your knees so you can suck me off. Get on your knees and open your mouth wide. Open it up real big so I can fit my dick in your mouth. Let me hear you moan. Suck me off until I cum all over your pretty little face.”

With trembling hands, you pulled your shirt over your head and threw it onto the floor, your nipples hardening. Without thinking twice, you moved to kneel in front of Jaehyun. When your knees met the ground, you grabbed hold of his cock and brought it close to your mouth.

“Open up,” he ordered.

Without any hesitation, you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. A wave of pleasure rushed through you and you took more of him into your mouth. Inch by inch, you continued sucking him off. You were amazed by how big his cock was. It was thicker than any cock you had ever seen. And judging by the way he was stroking it, you could tell he wanted it bad.

“Mmm, baby,” Jaehyun groaned out. "That feels so good. You’re such a good little cocksucker. God, you’re so hot. You look so sexy sucking on my dick. You’re so fucking hot. I’m going to fill you up so full of cum. I’m going to cum so deep inside of you.”

It was only seconds later when you felt his warm jizz begin to coat the insides of your throat. His dick twitched and pulsated in your mouth as you felt his cum hit the back of your throat. He groaned and pumped his hips, pushing himself deeper inside of you. You gripped his shaft tightly and let out an agonized cry. He thrust harder and faster, hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. With each thrust, his balls smacked against your chin.

Finally, after several minutes of continuous stimulation, he collapsed onto the couch next to you. You held his still erect cock in your mouth and gently licked his head clean. His eyes remained closed and he seemed to be breathing heavily. When you finally released his cock from your mouth, you watched as a small amount of his seed oozed out of the tip and slid down your cheek. You wiped it away with the back of your hand and licked your lips. You looked over at Jaehyun, whose eyes remained shut. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and locked onto yours. He stared intently at you, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Was that okay?" he asked.

You shrugged. "Mmhmm."

"Good. Because I have another fantasy I want to fulfill tonight."

Jaehyun pushed himself up off of the couch and reached for your hand. Pulling you to your feet, he led you towards the bedroom. Once inside, he reached for the rest of your clothes and quickly began taking them, and his, off. You shivered as his cool touch brushed against your skin.

"Lay down on the bed, baby."

When you got onto the bed, Jaehyun climbed on top of you and ran his hands up your legs, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He leaned in and gently kissed your neck.

"Fuck, you're wet."

"Jaehyun, I've been wet since the restaurant. I'm so horny," you confessed.

"Don't worry," he reassured you. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

He sat up and ran his fingers up and down your inner thighs, making you tremble. He smiled. "Are you excited?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Then spread your legs."

You parted your legs and watched in amazement as Jaehyun slipped his fingers between your folds. A gasp escaped your lips when he rubbed your clit, sending tingles throughout your entire body. He bent down and softly kissed you on the lips.

"Mmmm, baby. I love tasting you. You taste so sweet."

He kissed you again and then began kissing down your stomach. After several long moments, he stopped and glanced up at you. "God, you're so beautiful. Look at you lying there naked. So vulnerable. So wet. So ready."

His words caused your heart to flutter. He gazed down at you, studying every curve. "You know, I used to have dreams about you when we were younger. The first time I saw you naked back in high school, I knew I'd want to make love to you one day. Even though you didn't want me."

"Who said I didn't want you?" you teased.

Jaehyun laughed. "You're too adorable, you know that? But seriously, it wasn't just your physical appearance that made me fall in love with you. It was your personality. You're so carefree and innocent. But underneath that innocence is a naughty girl who needs to be taken advantage of. You need to be seduced. Tempted. And most importantly, you need to be fucked."

You whimpered and squirmed beneath him. "What else are you going to do to me?"

"Just wait," he replied. "You haven't even seen anything yet."

He placed soft kisses along your stomach, working his way down to your navel. Finally, he got to your pubic bone and ran his tongue around it. He looked up at you with lustful eyes.

"Spread your legs wider for me, baby."

Slowly, you parted your legs, exposing yourself completely. Jaehyun stared hungrily at your pussy, which was now glistening with moisture.

"My god, you're so beautiful," he whispered.

He dipped his finger into your slit and stroked it around your tight opening. He put two fingers inside of you and stroked them back and forth. His eyes focused on your face, which displayed your complete submission to him. Your cheeks flushed pink as his actions turned you on.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Your pussy is so tight. God, you feel so good. I could spend hours playing with this pussy."

A low moan escaped your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of your body. Every thrust of his fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Tell me what you want," he instructed.

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to go for it. You looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Fuck, Jaehyun. I need you to eat me out. I need you to lick my pussy. I want you to make me cum. Please. Please. Please."

He smiled. "Are you sure? Do you really want me to eat you out? To get between those thighs and pleasure you?"

"Oh god, yes. Please."

Jaehyun wasted no time and started licking your pussy, slowly moving his tongue in circles around your clit. He flicked it against it occasionally and sucked on it. He kept going until you were writhing under him. You grabbed hold of his hair and jerked it as he pleasured you. Within seconds, your body went limp and you screamed out his name as your orgasm overtook you. You bucked your hips up against his face, forcing his tongue deeper into your wet pussy. He continued licking your clit, driving you insane with pleasure. Soon, he removed his fingers from inside of you and lapped at your juices, continuing to massage your throbbing clit.

As you lay panting, you looked up at Jaehyun, who was staring down at you. You stared deeply into his dark brown eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. You were pleasantly surprised to see a satisfied smile forming on his face.

"You liked that, huh?" he asked.

"Absolutely," you answered, smiling back at him.

"Well, you better get used to having me between your thighs. I'm not going anywhere." And with that, he flipped your bodies so that you were now lying on top of him. Your bare breasts were pressed firmly against his chest and your legs straddled his hips. He smiled as he began rubbing your back with his hand. "I want you to ride me. Put my cock in your pussy and ride me like you mean it."

"Yes, Jaehyun," you answered breathlessly. You reached behind you to grab his hard cock. Slowly, you lowered yourself down onto his throbbing length. The feeling of it filling you up caused a wave of pleasure to wash over you. As you buried him to the hilt, you gave a slight moan.

"Do you like that, baby?" he asked.

"Oh fuck, yes," you responded. "You feel so fucking good. So good."

Jaehyun lifted his hips slightly, increasing the friction of his cock inside of you. At the same time, he moved his right hand to squeeze your left breast. "That's it, baby. Ride me."

As you continued riding him, he switched up his rhythm and began pumping his hips back and forth. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

"Fuck, Jaehyun," you moaned. "This feels amazing. Fuck. I can feel your dick all the way inside of me. That's it. Keep doing that. Yes, oh god, please keep doing that."

His pace increased and soon he was pounding into you harder than ever before. The sight of you on top of him was incredible. He pulled you tighter against him, giving you a deep kiss. His lips devoured yours, causing you to shudder with pleasure.

"Faster, Jaehyun," you demanded. "Fuck me harder. Harder."

He slammed into you over and over again, moaning as he did so. Your hands were braced against his muscular chest, leaving your fingertips lightly touching. 

"Harder, baby," you cried. "Give it to me. Give it to me hard."

"That's it, Jaehyun. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," you yelled, as your orgasms came upon you. 

He suddenly rolled you over and pinned you to the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. Your arms were trapped above your head as he continued slamming into you. The friction of his dick rubbing against your sensitive clit had you struggling to breathe. His movements became increasingly rough and demanding, prompting you to bite your lip. His breathing became labored as he slammed into you repeatedly. You felt his warm seed splashing against your lower abdomen and between your legs.

Suddenly, he withdrew from you and flopped down beside you, panting.

"Jesus fucking christ, Jaehyun, that was amazing," you panted.

Jaehyun nodded his head in agreement. "It was. I don't think I've ever had sex quite like that."

You grinned. "Me either."

He propped himself up on an elbow and studied your naked body. "So did this live up to your wild fantasies about me? Are you happy with how things played out?"

You shook your head. "No, it exceeded them. It was beyond what I expected. I loved every minute of it."

He smiled and reached over to run his fingers through your hair. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier," you told him. "But thank you for tonight. For everything. For fucking me and eating me out. For doing whatever the hell you wanted to do to me. You were perfect."

Jaehyun's eyes lit up. "Really? Thank you, baby. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Honestly, if it hadn't been for you, none of this would have happened."

You tilted your head curiously. "What do you mean?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Ever since high school, I've always fantasized about being with you. I told my friends that you'd be the one. They thought I was crazy, but now they agree with me. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Why didn't you ever tell me these things?"

"Honestly, I was afraid of scaring you off. I didn't want to lose you. We'd grown up together, after all. I figured if I talked to you about this stuff, it might change the way you felt about me."

"How did I change the way you felt about me?"

He shrugged. "I guess the whole thing just scared me a little bit. You were my childhood friend. Our relationship meant something to me. But I guess now that it's finally happened, I feel relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders."

He sat up and looked down at you. You could feel his eyes burning into you.

"Jaehyun, I feel the same way." You started. "We've been friends forever and I don't know when and how it happened, but I guess I started to have a crush on you. And then starting college together and becoming roommates, I started to feel sexually attracted to you. Not only that, but I started to become extremely jealous whenever you talked to other girls. I always wondered why you never tried to ask me out or kiss me."

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you admitted to your feelings.

"Shit," he murmured. "Don't cry, baby. It's okay."

"So why now?" you asked. "Why all of a sudden, you finally decide to make a move tonight?"

"Because you moaned my name when you were getting off earlier," he explained. "I was just sitting in my room, reading up on some assignments and then all of a sudden, I heard you moan my name. It made me think that you saw me as something more than a friend. I couldn't stop thinking about you. About us. Tonight, I couldn't stand it anymore. I knew that I needed to be with you."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you heard his words. There was nothing sexual about his confession. It was pure honesty and desire. You threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in his chest. You felt his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly.

"God, baby, I love you," he said. "And I can't wait to show you how much I love you. In fact, I can't wait to do everything you ever dreamed of doing to me. I can't wait to see your face light up when you realize how special I am to you. When you realize just how beautiful and sexy you are to me. How incredibly lucky I am to have found you."

His voice grew husky and serious. "Let me take care of you. Let me protect you. Let me give you everything you ever wanted and more. Let me show you how great life can be."

You pulled away from him and gazed into his eyes. You could tell that he meant every word he had said.

"Promise me something," you said.

He furrowed his brow. "Anything."

"Promise me that this will never end. Promise me that you'll stay with me. I know that we're still young and that things might change, but please promise me that we'll always be there for each other."

Jaehyun was speechless. He smiled at you softly. "Baby, that's all I could ever hope for. I swear that I will always be here for you. Always. Whatever happens. No matter where our lives take us, I'll be there for you."

A tear fell down your cheek. "I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking mess."

Jaehyun gently wiped the tear from your eye. "No, you're not. Look at you," he whispered. "Look at how beautiful you are. Look at the way you look at me. God, I wish you could see how gorgeous you are. You make me fucking weak in the knees."

He leaned forward and kissed you tenderly on the lips. His soft touch sent shivers down your spine. Before long, he pulled away from you. "Just relax," he said. "I want you to fall asleep with me. Please."

"Okay," you agreed. You snuggled closer to him. "Your bed tonight and then we'll sleep in mine tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," he replied. "Now go to sleep. I love you."

"I love you too, Jaehyun."

You closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man who had stolen your heart.

[dogtoling]

I know that Inkling societies mirror human ones because of plot reasons going back to Alterna, but I've really enjoyed seeing your 'convergent evolution' takes on the biology, so why not apply that same logic to something like, say, architecture? At a glance, sure, Inkopolis and the Splatlands look recognizable to us, but would for instance an inkling or octoling's home have a layout differently built for their unique needs and behavior?

Thank you! also yes this is a good point! I've been avoiding doing anything too outlandish with the architecture or much of any of the worldbuilding to be honest because we know very little about Splatoon architecture and... well, stuff like this, to begin with. And it's harder to try and change major things about the world itself than it is to work with alternative biology for a creature in my opinion; all we really know when it comes to architecture and city- and building design in Splatoon that it is very similar to those of humans, and a lot of the elements are based on modern day Japan. I doubt the developers are doing that much to differentiate the architecture from human buildings and stuff because granted it would be a ridiculous amount of thoughts and work to sculpt a society and buildings that accommodate like 500 different species MINIMUM.... there's some little things here and there, like the Giant Doorways in the Deepsea Metro, but then there's other things like the freaking escalator in Inkopolis Plaza that's literally the width of maybe 1 Inkling and no other species even fits in that. Hell, it's not even the width of TWO PEOPLE which is at least expected of escalators to my knowledge--- anyway....

my point being I don't like to make sweeping differences to human architecture when it comes to Splatoon, because whether I like it or not a LOT of their stuff is just human architecture a little bit to the left. But that doesn't mean you can't make any changes to it, and it also doesn't mean there aren't any changes, those changes just might not be as visible.

Some random things I've thought about: Modern housing in Inkadia has VERY strong windows. Glass in general is very strong in urban environments, especially buildings near Turf War areas for obvious reasons... you don't want people Super Jumping through your window nor your window blasted to smithereens by a Trizooka shot that missed.

In apartment buildings, if there are mail slots on the doors, there's a container on the other side. Prevents people from slinking into your house through the mail slot. Apparently this is a common thing to have in Japan? We just have mail slots or postboxes out in the yard or lobby.

Also to prevent people from slinking into your house: residential buildings have dense grates, nets or spikes in their ventilation shafts. In some older buildings and non-residentials, these might be missing. But without things like this, any Inkling (typically) can just fit straight through a pipe as long as their beak fits in it, so you would end up having guests you maybe don't want.

Quickly about apartments; they're actually a very popular form of living not just for cost-cutting and because there's a fuck ton of residents in Inkadia, but because inkfish are mostly very social and do better surrounded with lots of people living in close quarters. The two most popular types of apartments are single-person ones that are basically just a single-room hole, and bigger apartments that have several small rooms and a community area that are meant for a whole school of squid (usually a friend group) to live in. People who live in the single-person apartments typically just go home to sleep and maybe cook or something... unless you're an introverted squid, or not a squid at all, and just settle for very little when it comes to space.

Inklings ALWAYS have some type of direct heating in their houses, from space heaters to a kotatsu to heated blankets to sun lamps. This is because Inklings are mostly cold-blooded and become very sluggish if their body temperature falls too much (for example from lack of physical activity or from cold room temperature), so there's a focus on keeping one's living quarters comfortably warm. Most lamps marketed for inkfish are actually heat lamps to the point where finding a lamp that Doesn't Make The Room Hot if it's on for too long is kind of hard.

Inklings are pretty vulnerable to dry air due to their thin skin and dependence on humidity to keep them thoroughly hydrated. As a result, you'll find air humidifiers in like, every house. In some AC units, a humidifier function is included. From a human perspective, the average Inkling apartment feels warm and humid - but to them it feels just normal. Due to the relatively high humidity, it's pretty common for electrical outlets to have covers for when they're not in use.

It's common for Octarian homes to have "sleeping holes" or "dens" carved into the wall. These haven't really become trendy in Inkopolis yet, but they probably will. It's also quite common for inkfish homes to have stacked furniture and interior made in layers - because they can fit in very tight spaces in swim form, maze-like interiors are still fully usable to most inkfish. Though it's rarer to find people who actually want to deal with the clutter.

Most Inkopolis bathrooms have a combined shower-bath. Inkfish showers come with a shower head that only really lets mist through on the default setting. (You're expected to test this BEFORE you take your first shower and replace it if necessary because you don't want to get into the tub and then find out it's a normal cross-species shower head on fucking Jet Mode.) Bathtubs are mainly used for re-absorbing moisture and soaking in ink rather than cleaning (because inkfish don't do very well with actual baths).

Most flooring is specifically made to be ink-resistant and non-absorptive. The combined humidity of the air and the ink that inkfish naturally get everywhere would ruin wooden floors IMMEDIATELY.

Toilets usually have a flap or gate blocking the drain that flips open when it's flushed. There are too many historical cases of people falling into toilets and just fucking dying or going missing forever because it's difficult to get out. (Mostly kids, but also people who fell asleep or too far into thought and just slinked into there. The world is full of danger when you can fit into any gap.) also lots of people accidentally laying eggs there which for obvious reasons is REALLY BAD if there's nothing to catch those.

All modern apartment buildings are required to have elevators. I'm pretty sure this is also just a real-life requirement nowadays. A lot of older buildings in Inkopolis don't have any, though... and while Super Jumping on street level is usually prohibited, most apartments have roof access, so a lot of people still jump between work/hobbies and their house. It is A LOT faster than dealing with traffic or walking (but it's also mostly illegal).

uh probably more things. My brain is empty now but hopefully that's some kind of inspiring ty for asking!

[hydrobunny]

 jump then fall (into me)

tags: fluff, established relationship, insecure reader, comfort, reo reo reo reo reo reo, lots of dialogue actually, they're drinking age, listen to jump then fall !! word count: 1.2k

“do you ever regret us?”

reo mikage jolts from his seat at his computer. the expression he fixes you with as he turns around is almost comical, all wide eyes and horror.

you can’t find it in yourself to laugh.

“what?”

you shift nervously. the satin sheets underneath you bunch awkwardly. “you know. getting together- staying together.”

he rises immediately, emails left for a later time. “what happened.” the words themselves should be a question, but his stiff tone doesn’t make it one.

you sigh, falling back on to the bed. although it’s only been two nights since the two of you checked in to this particular hotel, the bed already smells of reo’s expensive shampoo. “i dont know. sometimes i feel like i’m holding you back.”

his weight sinks into the mattress. “how the hell would you hold me back?”

you drag your hands over your face. “you’re just- you’re so you. heir to billions of yen, future ceo, hotshot football player, and you’re just barely in your twenties. shouldn’t you be out there in the wild getting into scandals every week? but you’re always just... here.”

“y/n.” even through tightly shut eyes, you can feel reo’s intense gaze on you. “is this really because you think i want to be out there making a fool of myself?” his hand gently brushes over your hair. “also, why would i get into scandals when i have you?”

you roll away with a groan. “it's not that. just- shouldn't you have had more relationships than just me? you know, all the first meetings and awkward flirting and shit.  you were popular as all hell in high school, but somehow you’re still with me? isn’t it boring?”

his hand freezes, and you feel a small inkling of guilt bleed through your heart.

after a long moment, reo rises from the bed without another word. He grabs his jacket from the chair as he pads out of the room, away from you.

you shove a pillow over your face and fight the urge to scream, sigh in relief, suffocate yourself, anything.

twenty minutes later, when you’ve reached a point of contemplating if those roses in the hotel vase are fake- (they’re in water, but you swear they smell exactly like those essential oils in scented candles)- your phone vibrates from its place on the desk.

you reluctantly lift yourself up, sliding your feet into your waiting fluffy slippers. reo’s computer is still turned on from before he left, some fancy computer program steadily running. you spot a hint of a message thread with nagi before you tear your eyes away.

the notification is from your messages, from none other than reo 🦎💜 himself.

the message itself is pretty short, unlike the usually wordy messages reo sends you consistently throughout the day.

come down to hotel bar. look nice

it takes you some time to actually comprehend the message, more than a few seconds spent blinking at it blankly.

and then you’re immediately digging into your suitcase for anything considered “nice.” honestly, did reo expect you to be able to procure outfits without any hint of the dress code? was he expecting family dinner or clubbing?

and what the hell was even with this request anyway? you were pretty sure your boyfriend had a business meeting in barely forty minutes, and it’s not like you two had ended your conversation on good terms.

either way, you settle on something in between wholesome and provocative, a pretty flattering cocktail dress you hadn’t really even planned on bringing. after a moment of contemplation, you leave your hair down, sliding in a pair of glittering earrings.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were trying so hard.

but when you arrive at the bar some minutes later, reo isn’t there. in fact, there’s no one there except for a stiff bartender slowly wiping down a glass. you hesitate from your place by the doorway, shooting off a here. dont see you? message.

he leaves you on read.

it takes you another six minutes of disbelief before you finally walk into the bar, and then it’s a short two minutes of fuming before you call for your first drink.

throughout it all, you see no hint of anyone; no reo, no drunk couples, no rich guests, no one. it would actually be kind of creepy if you had it in yourself to look around or care, but you really don’t.

ten minutes later, it’s when you’re nursing your second drink of the night ( a daiquiri that honestly is not getting you drunk fast enough ) that you hear another human voice.

“haven’t seen you before, pretty. can i pay for that drink?”

your mood immediately plummets as you turn with a scowl, ready to tell whoever it is enough curses to- oh.

reo smirks at you, flashing his card towards the bartender. you stare at him in disbelief. he’s in a completely new outfit from when you saw him last, something that is definitely not appropriate for his upcoming meeting. he has a leather jacket on, for gods’ sake!

“what the fuck are you doing?” you manage to say, realizing that you’re supposed to be mad at him. “do you realize how long i’ve been waiting?”

he pointedly doesn’t respond. “another round please, for me and the lonely lady!” he says before turning back to you. “so. what brings a girl like you here?”

you literally have no idea what he’s doing. you open your mouth to respond - with what, you couldn’t say- but then reo winks at you, quick enough that you barely notice.

the words fall out of your mouth without you even realizing. “what’s it to you?”

he hums, looking you up and down. “is it wrong to want to comfort a clearly sad stranger? come on, spill out all your secrets.”

you fight the urge to smile. “well, if you say it like that…i guess i’m trying to heal my broken heart.”

he responds a beat too late. “really? what idiot broke your heart?”

“no, i was the idiot,” you sigh, looking back towards your glass. “i was a bitch for no reason. got too caught up in my head, you know?”

his hands fly to yours. “i do know. and i’m sure your idiot knows as well. in fact, if i was the guy in question, i would have told you that nothing you can do would hurt me. that any time spent with you is infinitely better than time spent with any other women.”

you meet his eyes and smile. “and if you happened to be that guy, i would probably kiss you right then and there.”

reo swallows, hard. “yeah?”

you lean toward him. “too bad you’re not him.” you stand from your seat, grinning at how your boyfriend sputters instantly, almost knocking over his cup.

your shoes click clack a rhythmic beat onto the hotel floor as you head back toward the elevator.

seconds later, reo’s familiar form bumps into you, arm linking around your waist.

“i think that was first date was awkward enough, yeah?” he says breathlessly.

you lean further into him. “it was perfect. but i think i prefer my boyfriend.”

���good thing you’re looking at him. which means..”

you laugh, stopping. “which means this.”

you tiptoe upward and finally kiss reo. he tastes like watermelon chapstick and expensive rum.

// bonus//

“hey, reo?”

“yes?”

“did you rent out that entire bar so we would be alone?”

his silence is response enough.

I loveee reblogs and comments !! <33

[waggledoogledoggle]

⚠️Spoilers for Hazbin ep 4⚠️

⚠️Also, this post will talk about Abuse and SA, it is briefly mentioned a few times throughout the rest of this… whole long thingy I wrote⚠️

⚠️Also, brief mention of the scene where someone tried to drug Angel⚠️

Ok, I am just genuinely baffled at the people who somehow find a way to hate on 'Loser, Baby'.

Like, if you don't like Huskerdust that's fine... but 'Loser, Baby' is not overshadowing/brushing off Angel's SA. It's not victim blaming. And it's not Husk telling Angel to just shut up and get over it.

Like I've seen it so much, and you know what? Fuck it. Welcome to my TedTalk on why it's not all of those things.

For starters: Husk doesn't know about Angel's SA

When Angel has his vulnerable outburst (Side note, props to Blake I mean, they said 'take 5' he heard 'change lives') he talks about how he feels like he has to act the way he does to keep Valentino happy because he stupidly sold his soul to him. That he wants to get drugged up because that’s his escape. That he wants to be broken because maybe, just maybe Val will let him go. He wants to be free, but he can't and he has no one to blame but himself.

"What's the worst part of this hell, I can only blame myself" is literally the pre chorus to his song (Poison), and that is what he shares with Husk.

Not once does he bring up his abuse or SA. If he did, do you think a song would have even happened? Look how Husk reacted when someone tried to drug Angel's drink! Now that Husk actually genuinely cares about him? Dead. Dead. Valentino would be dead.

Us knowing about Angels situation in full is dramatic irony which is, essentially, we as the audience know more/are given more insight than the other characters. We were given the insight of Angel's true trauma that he deals with on the daily. Husk and the rest of the Hotel were not and have no idea what he deals with, the only one that even has an inkling is Charlie and even then we still know WAY more about Angel’s situation than her, so you can't really get upset at Husk for not knowing something he would have no way of knowing unless Angel shared it with him directly.

Moving onto the song itself, it's a song of empathy.

Allow me to explain.

Husk pinpoints perfectly what Angel is feeling in this moment:

"So things look bad, and your back's against the wall Your whole existence seems fuckin' hopeless You're feelin' filthy as a dive bar bathroom stall Can't face the world sober and dopeless You've lost your way, you think your life is wrecked"

When Husk starts singing, you can tell that Angel is expecting Husk to pull the whole "But that's not true! It's not hopeless! You're life's not wrecked!" and is very surprised when Husk doesn't.

Instead, Husks says "Yeah. You're right." And this is when a lot of the haters get angry- but hold on a second.

When someone is feeling all of those things, saying things like "That's not true! You'll be ok!" aren't helpful at all. That's brushing it off. Even if it may be true, that doesn't help anyone when they're feeling like hopeless, lost, losers.

Because that's sympathy, not empathy. Sympathy is feeling for someone, and trying to make them feel better. Empathy, is not trying to make them feel any certain way- better or worse- empathy is simply feeling with someone. And that's what Husk does.

During the first chorus, Husk is clearly teasing Angel a bit while doing so, but not without good reason. It's keeping Angel from closing back up again, he's being a little bit silly with him and teasing him. I mean, did you see the silly lil walk he did crossing in front of Angel? And Angel is super confused because he's like "how tf is this supposed to make me feel better??"

That's the thing. It's not. That's sympathy's job, not empathy's. Empathy just want's you to feel felt with, it doesn't want to tell you how to feel. And adding that bit of silliness gives Angel's vulnerability a chance to breathe and it prevents Angel from closing in on himself.

The next verse, pre-chorus, and chorus is when the empathy though really kicks in.

The next verse, is the first part of empathy: Sharing about a similar experience you went through.

In this verse, now that Angel is listening not just hearing, Husk shares that he has been gruesomely damaged. Calling back to what he shared literally seconds before the song. That he knows what it's like to sign away your soul, and constantly look back at it with huge amounts of regret. That knowing that moment is what turned him into the mess he is today, and that he has no one to blame but himself. Just like Angel.

Then in the pre-chorus where there's the whole:

"I sold my soul to a psychopathic freak Haha! And you think that makes you unique? Get outta here, man!"

That isn't Husk telling Angel to get over himself and this isn’t him undermining what Angel’s been through. That's him saying 'I did too, you're not alone’

And then the very simple word change from "you're" to "we're" in the chorus is SO FREAKING HUGE. Because Husk is essentially saying "You feel like a total loser right now. Ok. Then if what happened to you/what you went through makes you a loser, then I'm a loser too. Let's be loser's together." Instead of trying to make Angel stop feeling like he's a hopeless loser, he decides that he is too.

He meets Angel where he is.

Aka: ✨empathy✨

Angel finally feels seen, understood, felt with. All the goals of empathy. He no longer feels alone in what he is struggling with, which is HUGE! Especially for people going through/dealing with SA and abuse.

The bridge of the song, is also extremely important, because this is where they acknowledge the differences in what they're going through. Their root problem is the same, but how it messed up their lives and created the problems they deal with now are completely different

And that's around when the song begins to shift from just Husk showing empathy and comforting Angel, to them both finding comfort in each other.

Which you can clearly see by the chorus under the umbrella, where it's not just one of them singing the chorus, but it's both of them. Because they have found a place to go to and confide in, a place of comfort, with each other.

Like, I am genuinely concerned that people find this song toxic like... have- have you never experienced empathy before? Are you ok?

So yeah, to wrap this up, if you don’t like ‘Loser, Baby’ just because you don’t like the song in general? That’s fine (odd, but fine)

But if you hate it because it “undermines Angel’s experience and what he goes through” I…

words.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[ficthots]

Tracking

A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?” 

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

[mcntsee]

Shooting star

Summary: You spot a shooting star, close your eyes tight, make a wish, and hope it comes true.

Warnings: Angst.

Note: This is not my favorite work, but I saw a shooting star today and just had to write something.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz wasn't certain what had brought him here in the first place, nor did he have an inkling as to why they were having this conversation.

"It's not foolish; it's a shooting star!"

Yet, deep down, he acknowledged it might have been his heart’s silent plea to remain close to her, willing to follow her anywhere, even through the depths of hell.

"It's not even a star."

"Quiet and let me make a wish."

He couldn't fathom it. Watching her squeeze her eyes shut so tightly, he wondered if she wasn't seeing stars.

Despite finding her actions silly, he couldn't bring himself to extinguish the twinkle in her eyes.

So he waited until she opened her eyes again. "I've seen you take down multiple men, yet you believe a rock will make your wishes come true."

“There’s people out there that can stop our hearts with a mere gesture.”

Not to mention those born destined to become Saints.

"I believe a rock entering the atmosphere could make a wish come true."

He recalled his mum mentioning shooting stars a couple of times. Just like Y/N, she had mimicked the same actions. Whatever his mum had wished for, he never discovered.

“Has it ever?”

“What?”

“Has a wish ever come true?”

“Yes. One.”

He wanted to laugh. How unfair it seemed that she could find happiness in a rock when he, as a child, had been let down by the so-called shooting stars multiple times. But he didn’t.

“What was it?”

“To be saved.”

If Kaz was known for anything other than the dreadful things he could do for the right price, it was for always having a retort. This time, however, he didn’t. So he listened.

“I was hungry, angry, cold and sad. And I saw one.”

She could recall that day vividly, as if it were yesterday. Granted, it had only been a couple of years, but she was certain she would never forget it.

“I wished someone would come and save me.”

She had closed her eyes tightly, her father’s voice echoing in her head, reminding her of the countless times he had taken her stargazing.

The day they saw a shooting star, her father had told her to make a wish. She had.

Sometimes she still wonders if the reason why her father died was was because she had shared her wish with her friend. If the Saints viewed it as breaking a rule and twisted her dream into a nightmare.

“Next day, you found me.”

“I think that’s called luck, love.”

“We don’t get lucky, Kaz.”

Kaz hummed. A silence enveloped them both, and he wondered what she had wished for. To live for many years? To always have money? Perhaps she had wished for love or to leave this city behind.

“You should try it.”

“I don’t rely on rocks for my wishes to manifest.”

With a sigh, she stood up. For a moment, Kaz yearned to grasp her hands and implore her to stay, to convey that he would, just to keep her from leaving. Yet, he hesitated, and that brief pause was all she needed to vanish.

“And, I already have my shooting star.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz never would have imagined that the next time he returned to this spot, it would be without her by his side.

He never anticipated the overwhelming emptiness that would consume him—the ache in his heart echoing the memory of her laughter and the beauty of her eyes whenever his mind dared to revisit those moments.

It had been so long since he last heard her voice—telling stories, teasing him, attempting to draw laughter from him.

His shooting star was gone, and all the magic she had planted within him was extinguished—ripped away just as she had been.

He felt so alone.

While his mind had been lost in what if’s, his eyes caught the swift movement in the sky—a shooting star, racing faster than the constant wind hitting his face.

He laughed—a laughter laced with pain—as he reminisced about the countless times he had seen Y/N pause, shutting her eyes tight in pursuit of wishes.

Without meaning to, he imitated the same actions he had seen her do countless times, closing his eyes. His wish left his lips in a quiet whisper.

“Come back.”

But she wouldn’t. After all, it wasn’t even a star. Just a rock breaking through the atmosphere.

In the blink of an eye, the shooting star was gone, much like his- his girl, his shooting star.

[motelsnleatherseats]

A new school year was on the horizon as the summer days were coming to an end. Dean had spent the weekend with Sam dreading it and complaining, asking why he couldn't just get his GED like Dean did so he wouldn't have to worry about school anymore, but John wouldn't stand for it, and if there was anyone in the Winchester bloodline that was gonna actually graduate and get their diploma, it was going to be Sam. Plus it kept Sam busy and out of trouble on the days where he'd bring Dean along on a hunt. But he was going to do it the right way, Dean would make sure of it.

"What are you going to do while I'm at school?"

Dean breathed out a long exhale as his fingers idly massaged the back of Sam's scalp as he rested his head on his chest. He was half-laid up on him in a familiar and comfortable position. The television was off with the distant sounds of cars passing along the main road outside of the motel granting them occasional background noise.

"Might find some part time work. Hustle or whatever," Dean commented as his eyes fell shut. It had to be approaching midnight.

He'd find a way to keep himself busy, but he knew he'd always have to be available if John called and needed something. He could potentially pick up a local case if one ever presented itself, but his main objective was just to keep an eye on Sammy.

"Kinda miss when you were with me at school," Sam commented and Dean gave a short laugh.

"Speak for yourself," he replied. "You're the smart one. Tests and books ain't really my gig. Plus the teachers were nothin' like they were in pornos." Dean cracked one eye open to gaze at Sam with a half grin.

"Shut up," Sam spoke as he nudged him before he shifted his glance up towards Dean, moving his hand to draw little patterns against his chest with his index finger. "You're smart too, y'know. I just meant I'm gonna miss not being around you all the time."

"I'm still gonna pick you up and drop you off, it won't be that long. I'm actually kinda shocked you're not sick of me already." Dean moved his hand to cover Sam's against his chest before he curled his fingers against his palm.

Sam went quiet for a moment as he seemed to mull over Dean's comment, pinching his lips together as if sealing off the words that sat on the tip of his tongue. He recognized the look, the little pouty expression that his little brother used to get when he'd spend too much time chatting up girls before this whole thing between them got started.

"Sammy."

"You're not gonna find someone else while I'm not around, are you?" Sam responded abruptly. Dean gave a laugh, much to Sam's dismay because he was met with a petulant scowl and a whine.

"Seriously? C'mon, man, I'm not gonna go prowling for chicks while you're at school," Dean replied with a lift of his eyebrows. He may have had that reputation before, but Sam was in the picture now. Even if he had contemplated the seriousness of their situation, he knew that Sam's jealousy and possessiveness would be hell to deal with if he even considered getting something on the side.

"Promise?" Those damn puppy eyes. Dean lifted his hand to cup his cheek before he leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

"I promise. Now let's get to sleep, gotta get up early to get you to school tomorrow."

The day dragged on longer than Dean expected it to. After a morning of Sam seducing him with heated make out sessions and heavy petting to try and convince him to let him stay home, Dean found himself hesitant to drive away even after his brother had walked through the main doors of the school. They hadn't really had a conversation about what they were in terms of a relationship, but Dean had an inkling that Sam would classify them as exclusively together. That didn't really bother him, in all honesty. Ever since they had their first kiss, Dean's eyes found themselves fixated on his brother more than anything, and any desire that he used to have when it came to flings or one-night stands had basically disappeared completely. What did bother him was the fact that Sam was still so young, and maybe the feelings he had towards Dean were getting wires crossed somewhere and he was mistaking his familial bond and reliance on Dean to take care of him as something on the more romantic side. A new school year meant a new opportunity for Sam to meet other people, and maybe that'd be good for him.

By the time the school day came to an end, Dean had posted up outside against the Impala, glancing at his watch to count down the minutes before a rush of kids would come flooding out of the doors.

"Dean Winchester?"

Dean turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice, his eyes falling on a pretty brunette with a pretty smile heading his way.

"Rhonda?"

"I thought that was you. I mean, kinda hard to miss with the car and all," she retorted as she came up to him as he pushed himself from the car, turning to face her better. "Thought you were leaving town before summer," she chided, giving him a playful push against his shoulder.

"Ah, yeah," Dean chuckled, giving an ostentatious shrug of his shoulders and a signature cocksure smile. "Plans changed. Dad's job kept him around longer than expected. What are you doing here?"

"Uh huh, and here I thought you were just making something up to let me down easy," Rhonda responded with a tilt of her head, but that smile still remained on her lips. Shit, she was flirting. "Picking up my sister, she's a freshman this year."

"Oh yeah, uh.. Darla, right?"

"Mhmm. And you're here for... Sam?"

"Sammy, yeah," Dean spoke, and is if on cue, the bell had rang and students started the migration out of school. Dean shifted a bit, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glanced towards the doors to scan for his brother.

"How could I forget?" Rhonda said with a grin before she stepped into Dean's personal space and nudged his arm with hers, drawing his attention back down to her. "Well you know, since you're hanging around a little longer, maybe we could get together? Catch a movie or something?" She offered. Dean felt a small clench in his chest, something akin to uneasiness. "I picked up a couple more things from the lingerie store," she added in a whisper and Dean's cheeks grew hot.

"Hey, hey, that was a one time thing," Dean replied with a nervous laugh, clearing his throat afterward.

"I know, I was talking about for me," she purred.

"Dean?"

Dean whirled around like he had just been caught in the act, Sam standing on the other side of the Impala with his eyes going back and forth between the both of them.

"O-oh, hey, Sam. How was school, are you ready to go?" Dean asked and stepped away from Rhonda, moving to open the passenger door for Sam who was on the brink of staring daggers at him. "C'mon, let's go grab something to eat, huh?" He offered as he ushered Sam to get in with a short huff of a protest from his little brother. He moved back around to the driver's side where Rhonda was still standing, watching him with an inquisitive gaze. He awkwardly slid passed her and against the car to get to the door before flashing her an uncomfortable smile. "Sorry, we gotta go. It was, ah.. nice running into you," Dean spoke before he climbed into the car.

"Yeah, same here..." Rhonda trailed off, lowering herself a bit to gaze better through the window at him. "Call me sometime, yeah?"

Dean gave a tight lipped smile and a half nod of his head before he watched her walk off and flag down her sister before they had gotten into their own car. He sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few long moments, feeling Sam's eyes boring holes through him.

"What the hell was that?"

"Nothing. She just recognized me from a few months back, came over to say hi," Dean answered, starting the car before he pulled them onto the road, all but peeling out of the spot.

"'Call me?' Did you have a thing with her?" Sam asked, his arms tucked tightly over his chest with his back against the passenger door, keeping as much distance as he could between them to display his trepidation about the whole situation.

"What? No, Sam, c'mon," Dean retorted with a snort. "I mean, well.. once, but it was a long time ago, way before you and I even started doing anything," Dean defended himself, chancing a glance towards Sam. He looked pissed. "Look, she just came over to say hi, that's all, I swear. I'm not gonna call her," he continued, doing his best to convince Sam that it wasn't even a notion that crossed his mind.

The silence persisted. Sam was good at giving the cold shoulder, but he felt that this was probably gonna be worse than just a few hours of no conversation given the fact that Sam had expressed this particular concern the night before. As each second passed, the pit in Dean's stomach grew.

"What's her name?" Sam asked, voice too calm for Dean's liking. He contemplated on asking why he wanted to know or just changing the subject, but there was no point in lying to Sam or avoiding the situation. Whether or not it was his fault, he had gotten caught red handed.

"...Rhonda Hurley."

"Hm."

An uneasiness settled in Dean's shoulders as Sam seemed to signify the end of the conversation with his nonplussed sound of a response. His fingers itched to reach for the radio to do something to cut the silence, but that would have been a bad move as well. They were half-way to the motel before Dean found his voice again.

"Wanna get something to eat?" He offered, voice soft and apologetic.

"Drop me off at the library," Sam retorted.

"What? Why? It's the first day of school." Dean looked at Sam with his eyebrows furrowed. "You're mad at me."

"Just drop me off, please. It's for school," Sam responded, his gaze still out the window, refusing to give his brother any read into his feelings at that moment.

Defeated, Dean sighed and drove towards the public library as requested, though he wasn't happy about it. He wanted to further explain himself, to make sure that Sam knew he had no intention of calling her and if he were to ever run into her in public again that he'd dip out as quick as he could, because being on Sam's shit list wasn't worth it. Once they pulled up, Dean put his arm against the back of the front seat bench and leaned a little closer to Sam.

"Want me to come in and wait for you?" Dean offered and Sam had turned to look at him, his expression still indecipherable. He noticed how his eyes flickered to Dean's lips for a moment he took that cue to lean in for a kiss, but Sam was quicker and had pulled the door open and slid out, leaving Dean awkwardly bent over the center and watching as Sam took a few steps back.

"Don't wait up."

"Sam.. Sam! Hey!" Dean called out, frowning before Sam turned to walk backwards as he headed towards the library. "Call me to come get you, okay?"

Dean was met with a roll of his eyes before Sam had turned back around and headed inside. He was in deep shit and he knew it.

Against Dean's best judgment, he drove away from the library, beating himself up about even letting Rhonda come over to say anything. How could he have known that he'd run into her, let alone have her be trying to get up close and personal right as Sam walked up? He didn't actually do anything, he shouldn't have anything to feel guilty over. He went back and forth of feeling deserving of punishment and coming up with an argument to plead his case to Sam once he gone to pick him back up again, but the guilt laid heavy on his shoulders. He checked his cell phone every 2 minutes to see if maybe somehow the ringer was dysfunctional or maybe his phone was dead, but he knew Sam was making him suffer. An attempt at watching TV was made, but he couldn't focus. His knee bounced nervously, eyes unfocused on the screen before he just turned it off and paced a bit. After an hour of waiting around, Dean knew he had to keep himself preoccupied with something else, so he left the motel and went to the nearest diner to pick up some food for the both of them. Something healthy that Sam liked, even one of those health conscious shakes Dean thought tasted like lawn mowings, just to get on his good side.

Another hour had passed and their food was growing cold on the table. One more glance at his cell phone had him reaching for his keys, the metal digging into his palm hard as he went to pull open the door before someone else had beat him to it, nearly hitting him in the face. Sam stopped abruptly, obviously not expecting to see Dean there.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing? I was gonna come and haul your ass outta the library. Why didn't you call me?" Dean asked, though he was relieved that Sam had actually come back.

"I told you not to wait up," Sam responded as he shouldered passed him, throwing his back pack onto the floor by his bed before he flopped back on it.

"Yeah, okay. Like I'm still not gonna worry." Dean watched Sam as if waiting for a further explanation, or just something other than disinterest. He sighed as he received a shrug in return. "Are we not gonna talk about earlier?"

"What's there to talk about?" Sam asked, giving a slow blink as he regarded Dean, eyebrows raised slightly. "You said you weren't going to see her, right?"

"Yeah, but I can tell you're pissed about it," Dean responded, caught a little off guard, though relieved that he wasn't going to make a big deal over it.

"Then that's it, isn't it? I believe you." 

Dean's eyes narrowed. This was too easy.

"That's it? You're not mad, then?"

"I'm not mad."

"Okay... well, I got you some food if you're hungry," Dean replied, though still wary of Sam's current emotional state.

"Thanks," Sam replied, flashing a hint of a smile that did nothing to dissolve the pit in Dean's stomach.

Dean had decided to leave the conversation at that, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Sam wasn't going to make a big deal out of it, then there was no need to further plead his case. Maybe Sam was getting better about his little jealousy issues. Hell, he was impressed Sam didn't tackle her upon seeing them talking to begin with in the way he used to act out when he was vying for Dean's attention. Or he was still mad at him and he was putting on one hell of a poker face. He tried not to dwell on the thought for too long even as he stole glances towards his brother to try and get a better reading on him.

The rest of the evening passed quietly, both of them eating in their own time and winding down from the day. Dean had showered first before he had gotten himself ready for sleep, slipping into his designated side of the bed as he heard Sam showering up after he brushed his teeth. He stared at the bathroom door, seconds ticking away feeling like minutes before the creak of the door was heard and Sam stepped out, dressed in his boxers with his damp hair curling by his ears. Dean wanted to ask if he was going to join him, but he swallowed the bit of vulnerability, wanting Sam to make the conscious decision himself.

Relief was an understatement when Sam crawled into the same bed and pressed his form up against Dean's, fitting himself as the little spoon. He curled his arm around his torso and buried his face against the back of his little brother's neck, giving a deep inhale of off brand shampoo and bar soap.

"Did you fuck her?" Sam asked in a voice so quiet Dean wasn't sure he heard right.

"What?" He lifted his head some to gaze at Sam's profile.

"Did you fuck her?" He asked again before he turned his head to meet Dean's eyes. Dean stared for a beat, unsure of how to answer, but Sam's eyes were demanding of a truthful response.

"Yeah," Dean replied remorsefully. 

Sam rolled his smaller frame to face his brother, another unreadable expression there as he moved a hand to reach for the amulet around his neck, toying with the adornment. Dean wasn't sure what else to say so he simply moved his hand to caress along his arm in an apologetic manner. Really, he had nothing to be sorry for. Sam knew what Dean's sexual appetite was like long before he had shown any remote interest in Dean or what he was doing with other people. Still, there was a part of him that felt guilty, because he was sure he was all of Sam's firsts, and Sam would never get to lay claim on any of Dean's.

Sam gave a little tug to the amulet in his fingers, tipping his head up to press his lips to Dean's, earning a small sound of surprise from the elder, because where did that come from? Grateful that Sam wasn't punishing him for his truthfulness, he leaned into it and let his eyes close. Sam was quick to deepen the kiss, parting his lips and welcoming Dean to do the same before their tongues grazed one another, the subtle lingering of mint there. Dean moved his arm to curl around his brother's middle, pulling him against him better before Sam rolled on top of him and gave a soft moan. His hand went to reach for the bedside table to turn off the light but Sam reached out to grip his wrist, giving a soft 'mm-mhh' before he lifted his head.

"Did you do it with the lights off with her?" Sam asked, voice a touch breathy. Dean responded with a soft, discontent groan as he tipped his head back with a roll of his eyes, not wanting to think or talk about Rhonda Hurley anymore. "Tell me, I want to know," Sam urged with a roll of his hips down against his groin, this time earning a pleasured groan from Dean's parted lips.

"Y-yeah, Sammy.. lights off," he exhaled, moving his hands down to Sam's hips where he gripped and gave a tender squeeze, pushing his own hips up for more friction.

"Did she suck your cock?" Sam asked, lifting his form to sit up as he straddled Dean and he gave deep rolls of his hips. Dean bit down on his bottom lip as he felt his cock begin to fatten under the pressure of Sam's actions and he slid his hands up along his sides, having a hard time participating in the conversation.

"Jesus, Sam," he exhaled, his green eyes wide as he gazed up at his little brother, a mix between turned on and concerned. It was hard to enjoy dirty talk when it was about someone else. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I wanna do it better," Sam replied as he leaned down and kissed Dean once more before he slid his body down his brother's thighs, trailing his hands down his torso until they were at the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. Far be it for Dean to turn down a blow job, but Sam's fixation on what he did with Rhonda was making it feel like some kind of non-existent competition. Sam would win. Every. Single. Time.

"Wait, wait," Dean interjected as he reached down to grip one of the other's wrists, shifting to sit up on his elbows as he gazed down at him. "She's never gonna compare to you. No matter what. You don't have to be better than anyone."

"Then why don't you want to have sex with me?"

Dean's chest felt heavy with the weight of Sam's question. He had put off actually doing the deed with him because somewhere deep down inside, he was afraid that Sam would change his mind about this intimate relationship they had delved into, but now Little Brother was becoming impatient. He fell back against the bed with a sigh before his arm came over his eyes.

"Is it because I'm not a girl? Because I'm not pretty or have tits and a pussy?" Dean could hear the bitterness in his voice.

"No, God no, that's not it at all," Dean replied quickly, dropping his arm and angling his head to meet Sam's gaze once more. Not pretty? Fucking hilarious. "I just.. want to make sure you're ready. That you're not gonna, y'know, hate me for it afterward or change your mind."

"Why would I change my mind? I'm the one that came onto you," Sam spoke, the edge now missing from his tone.

"Because you're young? Because you're confused? I don't know, I worry about shit like that all the time," Dean admitted, silently beating himself up for being a professional boner killer in that instance.

"Are you confused?" Sam asked.

"No.. actually I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Dean replied. If he had to compare everything that he ever felt towards anyone he took to bed, or anyone in general, nothing could hold a flame for what he felt towards his brother. Somewhere along the way of taking care of Sam, of practically raising him, he had put him on a pedestal. Sam was to be treasured, to be revered, to be worshipped, and who better to do that than Dean himself?

"Okay," Sam replied before he flashed him a smile. Okay? Okay??? That's all he could say in response?

"Okay what?"

"Okay, then just shut up and let me suck your cock."

Dean's eyebrows shot up in response, words failing him in that moment as Sam resumed what he had originally planned by curling his fingers in Dean's boxers and tugging them down, letting his cock spring free from the thin material. A soft groan left the elder's lips as he felt Sam curl his fingers around his length, holding it upright before he wrapped his lips around the head, the first touch of wet heat sending a shockwave of pleasure through him. 

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean breathed, moving a hand down to push his fingers through his still damp locks, tightening a bit at his scalp as he felt him descend on his arousal, the velvety sensation of his tongue and cheeks making the muscles in his stomach quiver. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled a pleasured sound, watching as Sam tried to take as much as he could into the depths of his mouth, the head nudging the back of his throat and making him lift his head a bit from fear of gagging. "Just.. relax your throat a bit and breathe through your nose," Dean guided, giving another moan as Sam did as he was told, now starting to bob his head.

He had seen plenty of girls go down on him, some more enthusiastically, some with a hell of a lot more experience, but nothing looked or felt better than watching Sam suck his cock. The sight alone made his length throb against his tongue, his thighs tensing slightly as his toes curled against the sheets. The wet sounds were like music to his ears as they were paired with soft little hums and gentle gags when he took too much, but it was perfect. He gave his praises through tender tugs of his hair and groans of pleasure, all while resisting the urge to raise his hips.

Sam pulled up after a few long moments of concentrated bobbing to take a breath. His lips were glossy with saliva and slightly more plump than they usually were with a thick line connecting his bottom one to the head of his cock. Then he grinned up at Dean, mouth poised so close to the engorged head that it gave another throb in his grasp.

"Am I doing okay?" Sam asked, cheeks a little flushed, and God, he's never looked prettier.

"What do you think?" Dean asked as he lifted his hips some to get his cock to slip within his brother's grasp, the hardness against his palm a clear indicator that he was doing a fine job.

"Can we..?" Sam asked, expression so hopeful, how could Dean ever say no? If Sam thought he was ready for it, then Dean would give that to him. He deserved that much.

Dean licked his lips and swallowed, holding his gaze for a long moment before he nodded his head.

"Yeah, c'mere baby," he replied, coaxing Sam back up his form before their lips had joined in another embrace, Dean rolling them over to have Sam on his back. He kissed him with a deep seated hunger, licking into the pink of his mouth as he savored every sensation, his heart beginning to pick up pace the closer they got to sealing the deal. He kissed down his brother's throat as his teeth scraped gently over the thrum of his pulse, earning soft mewls from Sam as he arched up against him. His hands made quick work in discarding their boxers, now a tangle of limbs in the sheets. Dean fit between Sam's thighs, grinding their arousals together as he moved one hand to push under the bend of Sam's knee to bring his legs further apart before he trailed his fingers inward to caress against his sweet little hole.

"You touch yourself here?" Dean asked as he lifted his head, gazing down at Sam who had circled his arms around his neck and gave him a nod as he bit down on his bottom lip.

"Yeah.. just my fingers.. wanted to be ready for you," he divulged, his cheeks taking on more of a pink hue. Dean smiled, bordering on a smirk before he stole one more kiss and detangled them briefly.

He got himself up from the bed with reluctance, but if they were going to do this, he was going to make sure that Sam was comfortable. He rummaged through his duffel for a small bottle of lube he kept stashed, coming back to his brother and resuming his position.

"You still want the light on?" he asked as he uncapped it and smeared some of the clear substance on his fingers. Sam nodded and spread his thighs for him, his lips pinched between his teeth.

"Wanna see you," he murmured in reply before Dean had moved his fingers down to touch against his hole once more, Sam giving a little jolt at the cool sensation. "S'okay," he nodded, granting Dean permission to do what he set out to do.

Dean pressed his index finger against the tight clench of his rim before the lube helped it ease inside, meeting less resistance than he anticipated. Sam's eyebrows knit together at the slight pressure, but he willed himself to relax to indulge in the sensation of Dean actually being inside of him, feeling his digit massage his inner walls as it slipped in and out. It didn't take long before he was able to add a second one, the pinch of additional pressure making Sam wince slightly, but he still pressed his hips down against the feeling, the softest little sounds of pleasure leaving his lips under his brother's thrusting fingers. Dean put his mouth to work to help distract from any pain as he kissed along his throat again and along his collar bones, his cock giving a small impatient throb as he scissored his fingers inside of him, urging a deeper stretch so he'd be able to accommodate his length better.

The wet squelches of lube played a beautiful melody to accompany Sam's breathy sounds, and the drag of blunt nails between Dean's shoulder blades only added to the heightened sensitivity of his body before he lifted his head to find Sam's eyes once more.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asked, and Sam subdued a wide smile with a bite down on his bottom lip, giving a nod of his head.

"More than ever," Sam breathed as Dean slipped his fingers free. He took what was left of the lube on his digits and slicked up his own arousal with it, moving to grip the base of it before he aligned himself with Sam's hole, nudging lightly against it.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay? And I'll stop," Dean spoke and waited for the go-ahead from Sam, both of them taking a steadying breath before he had pushed forward, the head catching his brother's rim before the resistance let up and he slipped inside with a groan, Sam's body tensing as he sucked in a breath. "Relax, baby. Breathe and relax for me," Dean coached, waiting until he felt Sam unclench enough to allow movement. "I'll go slow," he murmured, voice breathy. The tightness was incredible, and even the way he clenched and quivered around him sent pulse waves of pleasure through him, but he had to remember that this was Sam's first time. Shit, it was Sam's first time. He was taking his brother's virginity.

Dean pressed their lips together again in a kiss, another distraction, a silent 'I got you' in the form of physical affection. They stayed engaged in a lip lock as Sam's hands moved up and down Dean's back, fingertips pressing against the flesh, nails leaving light half crescent shapes against freckled skin until Sam exhaled against his mouth, giving another nod of his head.

"M'okay. You can move now," Sam breathed and Dean went right to work, giving slow and shallow rocks of his hips, feeling the slow drag of his cock against his insides. He dropped his head some, letting his forehead press against Sam's shoulder as he continued to move, his thrusts going a bit deeper, pressing just a little harder. Sam's arms had curled around him as his thighs pressed to his hips, giving little swivels against each movement that made Dean's head spin.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Dean spoke with a voice like tires on fine gravel as he breathed hotly against his skin, earning a soft whine from Sam between his panted breaths. He could tell his brother was biting his tongue at any discomfort, or maybe he enjoyed the slight sting of pain because it made this real and not some porno fantasy where everything was exaggerated screaming moans of ecstasy, but he checked in, making sure Sam could handle it. "Feels okay, baby? I'm not hurting you?"

"Bigger than fingers," Sam managed to reply with a strained laugh as he held at Dean's nape, pressing his mouth against his ear to give more of those delicious breathy sounds. "Don't stop, I want to feel you all the way," he spoke and Dean groaned, moving to find his mouth again as he angled forward and gave a full thrust, bottoming out. Sam arched, parted lips against Dean's as he gave an outward cry. His heels came to press at the small of his brother's back, holding him in place as he quivered and spasmed around him. "Oh fffuck," he whined, chest rising and falling faster. "I feel so full.. nngh, you're so big," he gasped and Dean throbbed.

"Yeah? You like me that deep, Sammy?" Dean asked, his pupils blown wide with lust as he held Sam's gaze, thankful that he opted to leave the light on because Sam's expression was one he'd commit to memory forever. He gave a grind forward and Sam let out another choked sound, giving a nod of his head as his eyebrows knitted together, those stained glass eyes glassy and dark.

"Do it again," Sam urged and Dean pulled his hips back, giving one fluid roll forward to sink as deep as he could which earned him something akin to a sob as he felt Sam suck his stomach in, the tightness around him increasing.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Dean hissed, nipping at the sharpness of Sam's jawline. "Like big brother fucking you?"

"God, Dean," Sam mewled and Dean shifted his hands up along the other's shoulders before he guided his arms up, curling their fingers together on either side of his brother's head. "Yes, yes, I love it so much.. fuck me, please," he pleaded, squeezing his fingers between his own before Dean took the lead and set a rhythmic pace, each stroke deep and firm, causing Sam's smaller form to bounce slightly. Any pain that Sam may have felt either went ignored or dissipated, because he was matching Dean's pace by countering each thrust with a throwing of his hips against his cock as it plunged in and out of him. The sound of skin on skin grew louder in slick plap plap plaps as they exchanged moans and grunts, entranced by each other's pleasured expressions, locked in an intense gaze that only exemplified their desire for each other.

Dean shifted his hips slightly, angling his body down enough to catch Sam's cock between their abdomens. The added stimulation had Sam writhing and he released Dean's hands to bring them to his shoulders, giving a sob of pleasure.

"Wait," Sam breathed, eyelashes wet with unshed tears from the overstimulation. Dean stilled, panting, eyes darting back and forth over his features to ensure that he hadn't hurt him or gotten carried away. "I don't wanna come that fast.. let me just," he murmured, pushing his brother's shoulders to guide them to roll over so that he was straddling Dean now, careful not to have had him slip out. Dean stared up at Sam, sat atop him like it was his rightful throne, face and chest flushed, hair disheveled. 

Dean moved his hand to run along the taut, slender torso before him as Sam leaned back some, his hands finding an anchor point right above Dean's knees. He could see every newly developed muscle in his abdomen, the stretch of skin from growing quickly framing his physique so perfectly. He gazed in awe, licking his lips and catching his breath before Sam rolled his hips, lifting and dropping down, sucker punching a moan passed Dean's lips.

"Shit, Sammy," he breathed, fingers now gripping at Sam's tanned thighs, squeezing possessively as he countered his movements with arches of his own hips. "Look so fucking good riding me like that," he praised, moving one hand to curl his fingers around his brother's leaking cock before his hand was batted away.

"No, wanna come on your cock alone," Sam drawled, his expression somewhat dazed. Dean gave no argument as his hand gripped his hip instead, watching as Sam set his own pace, up and down at first, the new position giving him a front row view of the show, seeing just how stretched his cock had his baby brother's virgin hole. He groaned as his lashes fluttered, full set of lips remaining slightly agape as he continued to let pleasured sounds drip from them. And then he sat fully down on him and began to rock back and forth, the grinding of his engorged cock dragging along his insides had his balls seize up, impending orgasm quickly approaching.

Dean's eyes were fixated on the way the muscles moved, the way Sam tipped his head back and dragged one of his own hands up his body, touching over his chest and his neck an into his own wavy locks. He had never seen anything so sensual, so breathtakingly arousing, he could have come right then and there, but he wanted Sam to get off first.

"Oh my God," Dean groaned, eyes rolling back for a moment as he pressed his feet into the mattress, aiding in Sam's riding motion before he saw his eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open wider upon the constant pressure against his prostate. It only took a second or two more before his little brother was coming untouched, making a mess against Dean's stomach and chest before he was right behind him, forcing his hips down a bit harder before his dick throbbed and pulsated, emptying a hot and thick load deep inside of him.

Little thrusts of hips were given as they rode out their orgasms, both of them soon breathless and boneless as Sam leaned forward and collapsed against Dean's chest. His eyelids were heavy and his body was thrumming with post-coital bliss as Dean caressed along his back, blinking his vision back into focus.

"Goddamn," Dean breathed, taking a moment to catch his breath. "You okay, little brother?"

"Fucking amazing," Sam retorted with an airy chuckle, taking a deep inhale to exhale a content sigh. "Told you I was ready."

"Yeah, you called me out on that one." Dean smiled lazily to himself, bring a hand up to smooth through Sam's hair before he kissed the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Their moment of intimate affection was interrupted by Dean's cellphone ringing, making him grunt and curse under his breath. "That's probably dad. Are you okay to move?"

Sam gave a nod of his head and forced himself to sit up, slowly lifting his hips to have Dean slip out of him, come soon to follow.

"I'm gonna clean up," Sam murmured as he got off the bed with shaky legs, Dean giving a nod before he sat up himself and hurriedly moved to fish out his phone from his jacket pocket, flipping it open as he watched Sam head into the bathroom with a sweet little smile his way.

"Hello?" Dean answered as he flashed Sam the same smile, giving a little head tilt to check him out in the process. He was expecting a gruff voice on the other end but it came out much more feminine, his expression dropping when he realized who it was that was calling him.

"Hey Dean, it's Rhonda. Look, I'm sorry to bother you so late, but you're good with cars right?"

"Uh.. yeah, why?" Dean looked away from the bathroom where Sam was busy taking care of the aftermath, afraid that all the color had drained from his face. What perfect fucking timing to call.

"Weirdest thing happened. I think someone was vandalizing cars in the neighborhood or something cause my tires are slashed and they broke my rear window," Rhonda replied, voice distressed. "I already filed a police report, but I don't know if my insurance will cover all of it. Was kinda hoping to call in favor about getting my tires switched out if you have the time."

Dean's eyebrows pulled together as he suddenly looked towards the bathroom again, swearing he caught a glimpse of Sam watching him through the mirror.

"Oh, um, I'm not really sure.. I'd just take it to a mechanic. Y'know, let the professionals handle it." He wasn't about to get roped into meeting up with her after the conversation he had had with Sam earlier. "I'll let you know. Sorry, I gotta go."

"Oh, okay-"

Dean closed his phone and gazed at it in his grip for a moment or two before he noticed Sam standing in the doorframe of the bathroom.

"Ready for bed?" No question about who was calling, which was strange considering Sam could probably piece together that it wasn't their father. Dean let the silence linger for a beat or two before he set the phone down and cleared his throat.

"Yeah." He padded back over to the bed and got settled on his side before Sam joined him, pressed up nice and close. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Hm?"

He couldn't bring himself to ask. Sam wouldn't do something like that, would he?

"..Goodnight" Dean opted for instead, reaching over to turn out the light on the nightstand.

"Night. Love you."

"I love you too."

↳ part 1 || part 2 || link to ao3

[mangoguy]

Displacement (1/2)

John "Soap" McTavish(2009) x Reader x John "Soap" McTavish(2022)

Warnings: Mention of Modern Warfare 3 (2011), Some fluff, they/them used once other than that no pronouns are used.

You recall your relationship with your John while in the hospital.

Another entry For @glitterypirateduck Soap It Up challenge!

This was heavily inspired by the Multiverse AU by shotmrmiller. It's been on my mind for a while lol

"Right, what the hell kind of name is 'Soap', eh? How'd a muppet like you pass selection?"

You heard Price state, looking up from cleaning your gun you saw the new guy who was set to join. Fresh faced and ready for battle, you wondered how long that would last. You watched as he passed the C.Q.B with a pretty average time, but he passed nonetheless. After that Price quickly briefed the team on the mission, infiltrating and assaulting a cargo ship in the Bering Strait. He dismissed us to get ready, deciding you wanted to try and get to know the new guy. You walked over to him and fell into step with him. 

You remember it wasn’t hard to get him to open up, which was surprising, most of the guys here were not up for much conversion. After a while, you decided to ask the biggest question on your mind, you asked him about his hair. 

“Why did you decide on a mohawk?” You heard him huff.  

“Because it was cool…” He mumbled.

"I love ye, y'know that right?"

You could faintly hear Captain McTavish mumble those words under his breath but the sound of the helicopter made you wonder if you heard it at all. What affirmed that it was indeed said out loud was when he took his hand in yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. Who he was comforting, you weren't sure, but you had an inkling it was to ground himself. 

You recall It was his first mission as captain and if he was nervous he sure as hell didn’t show it. But you knew him, he often sought some small physical contact as comfort when he was nervous. 

It's funny how you remember these things.

You also remember his first mission as captain went off without a hitch, of course, there were hiccups but like he promised nothing happened to you. It was oddly sweet in its own way, he knew you could take care of yourself but he often fretted sometimes (even if he didn't entirely show it).

Another moment you recall with John McTavish was when you two were outside. He was smoking and you were just keeping him company. It was a nice evening, a bit cold but nothing you couldn't handle. You two were talking about anything and everything as you two normally do. Then the topic of living together came up.

"Y'know... I've been thinking after all this is over we need to... do couples things" he chuckled.

"Oh yeah? Like what? I thought fighting in battlefields was good date material," you joked.

"Ah, that's gettin' old... we could get our own place," he suggested. 

"Get our own place? What are you suggesting?" You turned to look at him, he was already looking at you with a grin.

"Aye, I'm sayin' we should live together once this is all over and done with, I'm thinkin' out in the fields near a small town, just the two of us," he stubbed out his smoke before leaning against you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you closer. 

"Hm, that sounds wonderful... We could get a cat... maybe two so the other one wouldn't be lonely," you suggested, planting a kiss on his lips as you both thought about this fantasy. You'll never forget the way his cheeks turned a bit rosy after that. 

Though before house buying the one important thing on John's 'Couples things' list was getting married. Of course, you both talked extensively about it, making sure it was something you both were on the same page on. The ceremony wasn't anything special, just you, John, and a few friends and family to celebrate at John's Parents' house. It was a sweet time, filled with talking and laughing (Ghost and Roach were both raiding the snacks John's mom made). 

"Look at you, my little brother gettin' married! Never thought I see the day, thought you were married to the military life for a sec," John's sister teasingly bumped his shoulder. Though she was teasing, she seemed pretty proud and happy for him. 

"Aye, never thought I get so lucky, knew I wanted to marry them 6 months in but didn't want to scare them," John chuckled while wrapping an arm around your waist. You just rolled your eyes and nudged his rib, and he responded by pinching your hip before kissing your cheek.

But things didn't turn out like you both planned. Luck had to run out someday.

'I won't let anything happen to you,' rings in your head, he never failed to mention it before missions you both went on.

Is that why you were here?

You weren't sure how to explain it. One moment you were with John and Yuri, in that building, something went off and you woke up with someone looming over you.. before it all went black again.

You felt like you were in a different body, and you say that loosely since it still felt like you but a bit younger, less tense. You weakly opened your eyes, the blaring lights of the hospital flooding your vision. You groaned, wincing away for a moment before it felt safe to look again. The bed you were lying on was much softer than the ones back on base.

"Ah, you're awake," you saw a nurse to your left side checking your vitals, she gave you a reassuring smile.

"You were out for a while, almost two months! Had some bloke worried sick about you... Johnny, I think his name was," she started explaining. You never really heard people refer to John as Johnny but whatever at least you knew he was alive.

“Is he okay?” You rushed to ask.

“Yes he’s fine, was discharged a while ago, you were the one to take the most of the damage,” She paused to resume her work.

“Actually he should be coming back soon, doesn’t leave your side unless he needs the restroom, you definitely have a good one,” She chuckled.

Oh, thank god he was okay.

The nurse left you to rest after and you started mulling over what happened.

An explosion happened, you were falling alongside Yuri when it happened. But you couldn't remember much else.

You began to feel uneasy, like you lost a big part of yourself and yet you couldn't explain why. Which was weird considering the nurse just confirmed he was, in fact, relatively okay. While you were mulling it over some more you didn't hear the door opening and the sound of hurried footsteps rushing over to your bed.

"Yer awake!" 

You whipped your head up to see your husband, so grateful he was okay. You were almost ready to jump on him but you froze when your eyes finally landed on him. What looked like John, though he was a mildly younger version of him. He was a bit shorter than your John as well, along with sounding vastly different. 

That was definitely not your John.

He looked worried and relieved at you. Placing a hand on yours but also trying not to hover around you, you noticed a tattoo on his right arm, John didn’t have an arm tattoo. He decided to just sit down on the chair that was pushed near your hospital bed. Not knowing what to do you took your hand out of his and placed it on your stomach. 

That’s when you noticed your simple wedding band was gone.

Replaced with one that had a pearl and a few diamonds.

Whose ring was this?

You were confused and dare you say scared. Scared more than you ever have been in your life and that's saying a lot considering your line of work. But where exactly were you? 

"Yer looking at me like ye don't know me, Bonnie," the man broke the silence. 

But you didn't know him, you assumed this was the bloke the nurse mentioned.

Johnny. 

Wearing the face of your John.

Just what exactly happened?

Words: 1,347

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[dr-spectre]

a thought i keep stumbling on while trying to work out Splatoon's world, how fairly "utopian" splatoon seems to be compared to our own, and i'm wondering just how far that goes, socially and economically

the primary activity for inkfish is an all-inclusive, free to play social sport where you literally get paid for playing, the only barrier to entry being a weapon, of any kind, even a scavenged up Splattershot Jr. (which may even be freely given?)

GrizzCo, evil as it is, seems to take full advantage of inkfish respawning (the helicopter does not leave even when the Triumvirate shows up in an enclosed space like Undertow, fucking insane pilot), so no one ever seems to actually die on the job? with actually pretty decent pay alongside it (if you get lucky lmao)

there is/this is way WAY too much to type in somebody's askbox but GRAAHHHH SPLATOON LORE

I'm going to be honest, i haven't given much thought on the social and economic status of the Splatoon world LMAO! My knowledge of Splatoon lore only goes to the Idols, the timeline and the hidden stuff in the games. Trying to figure out how money works in Splatoon and the conversion of it to real world dollars is just as headache inducing as figuring out how the fuck does the Inkling and Octoling hair work.

Like look at this chocolate cereal for example, in our dollars, would it be 38 bucks? 3 dollars and 80 cents? Or is it based on Japanese Yen? Because Inkopolis is definitely inspired by Tokyo and other cities in Japan, just take a look at the architecture.

Inkopolis and Splatsville for sure seem very utopian and you don't hear much about crimes or any real issues aside from giant electric fishes being stolen every once in a while, and maybe an Idol goes missing and comes back like a few days later (you know who I'm talking about.)

To me it's basically Japan but more advanced and has sea creatures running the place instead of hairy fleshy humans like us lol. And they have a popular sport anyone can join and get paid for. Turf War is like THE THING in their society and they wanna encourage everyone to play it, so they give out money. Or at least that's why i think Inklings and Octolings get paid when participating in Turf War. Hell it makes sense for Inklings and Octolings to get paid for ranked battles because it's more serious and competitive, like the competitive sports we have in our world.

Also i wanna say something too which is semi off topic, Inklings and Octolings are kinda fucking insane strength wise, they are able to carry large rollers, fire giant gatling guns, survive from nearly any height as they seem to slow down in the air and land just fine. They have no bones and can stand perfectly fine with just muscles alone. And as long as there's a respawn machine, they can never die, and if there isn't a respawn machine then they'll stay as floating little ghosts until they find a machine.

Like Callie and Marie for example, are not some cute little defenseless girls, HELL NO! They will MURDER you easily if given the opportunity. If a creep were to go onto their stages or if someone tried to grab them, they would easily grab them by the neck and throw them into the atmosphere! Their bodies are just pure muscle and ink. (And they have military training too technically.) And that's one of the reasons why i like em so much... They strong... We all love physically strong girls that can carry us or fucking destroy us... Don't lie to me...

The only thing that can truly kill them is age and even then, they age MUCH slower than us. Cuttlefish and Octavio are over 130 years old and they act like they are around 70 to 80 years old in human years. And you can probably extend their lifespan by giving them more ink as when they age they slowly dry out, so all you gotta do is keep giving them ink and they might be able to survive for much longer.

There is also water, however it only seems like large bodies of water make them explode and i'm sure you can't just spray a hose at them to kill them lmao.

It's no wonder Mr. Grizz uses these cephalopods to collect eggs, Inklings and Octolings are insanely strong.

[farfromstrange]

Can I suggest something with angst (because angst with no comfort is my forte) like a daredevil x vigilante teen reader (?)  They are like siblings by blood. (The reader is treated by Matt like family, and he is so overprotective of them.) They have been together for a long time. Then something came up: the reader got caught by their enemies, and the daredevil was on the run to save the reader, or something like that. (I'm bad at explaining things, but I hope you get it.) Thank you in advance. I hope you're having a great day! love u

I am so sorry for the long wait, nonnie! I feel like I owe you for making you wait so long. Since you said angst with no comfort, I decided to completely shatter you with the angst, and I hope you're okay with that! I felt a shorter piece for this request would do better to convey the emotions. I'm nervous to post this, but I hope you like what I did with this!

Slipping Through My Fingers | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x teen!vigilante!Reader

Summary: You get hurt and Matt fails to save you.

Warnings: ANGST, TW: Death, hurt/no comfort

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Not tagging for this fic because the topic isn't for everyone.

He’s running. The city sounds, the noise, the sirens and the blood-curdling screams follow him everywhere. The stench in the alleyways seems to cruelly try to distract him from what he’s focused on, but he can’t give up now. He is close, so close. 

Matt Murdock lost the only family he had when he was just a boy and he believed he was alone, truly alone, for a very long time. And then, one day, you stepped into his life. He was at the police station when he ran into you. Well, you weren’t running, you were stuck in a holding cell. When he found out why – you were caught punching a guy to a puddle for attempting to hurt an elderly woman – and when he asked Brett for your file and confirmed that you were, in fact, only a teenager, he chose to help you out. It could have been him, after all. In his mask, getting caught by authorities, and he would have wished for someone to bail him out, too. Besides, your sassy nature when he told you he was your lawyer drew him in. You tried pushing him away at first, but then you went out again the next night, and there he was, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and he taught you a lesson or two about being smart when it comes to being a vigilante. That was the day you started working together, and you have become his family. You’re like his little sibling, and he’s never had one, so it feels right. He can mentor you, protect you and make sure you don’t get yourself in too much trouble, and in return, you breathe some fresh air into his life. It works, and he doesn’t feel as alone now anymore. You even moved in with him. 

Last night, everything seemed normal. You went out on parol together, busting up a drug ring you had been investigating long before that, and you seemingly succeeded. Though when Matt came home after work a few hours ago, he found the apartment empty, your suit still at home, and he couldn’t make out your heartbeat. When he called, you didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t text back. And you made a deal at the beginning of this that you would always call back. If you don’t, you told him, not even after five tries, and he can’t hear your heartbeat across the city, something isn’t right. But Matt doesn’t need to remember your deal to know that something happened; he can feel it in his bones. 

His chest contracts as his heart grows heavier. The fear is etched deep into his bones. He has gotten so used to the sound of your breathing, not being able to hear it is torture. Like minuscule needles drilling into his brain, the agony wraps its claws around his soul and drags him down into a dark hole. 

He’s running, and he won’t stop until he finds you. 

Something must have gone wrong last night. Someone must have remembered he isn’t working alone anymore and grabbed you to get to him. He has an inkling, but he can’t say for sure. He’s simply following the clues that are smaller than a grain of salt, and he’s struggling to keep up. For hours, he has been running, and you are no closer to being back home than he was before. 

At this point, you could be dead. You could be bleeding out in a ditch. These men could have shipped you off to Russia, enslaved you, used you– He can’t think about that now or he will stop and smash someone’s head into the nearest wall, maybe even his own. He swore to protect you and he failed, he always fails. If anything happened to you, he once told himself, it would be his fault, and it is. He should have been more careful the night before. He should have paid more attention to his surroundings. Things always end badly when he’s involved, and he believes he has doomed you. Yes, he must have doomed you and now you’re gone because of him, possibly even dead, and he is going to have to live with that for the rest of his miserable life. 

Then, he smells it. The wind comes in from the right direction and he catches the slightest whiff of your shampoo, your clothes, and your blood. The latter is what causes all fuses to blow in his mind. His already burning vision turns redder, his senses blaring with the alarms in his brain and he runs even faster. He jumps rooftops, chasing after your scent – and then he hears it. The faintest hint of your heartbeat is in the distance, but it is weak, and you’re losing blood at a pace that is weakening your body. 

He’s not sure for how long he runs, but eventually, his feet are sore and his muscles ache, and he can finally hear your voice calling out for him, “Matty!”

He finds you on a rooftop. Your body lies limp between two blocks of cement. The gash in your side is large, and the pool of blood that surrounds you keeps growing by the minute. Your breathing sounds labored. You reach out when you see his silhouette, barely conscious, but you have gotten used to his presence. 

“No,” he chokes out and gets on his knees beside you. He pulls off his mask, pulling your head into his lap. His hand flies to your wound, but it’s not the only spot you’re bleeding from. 

Bare fingers glide over your face, checking for more injuries. He finds a cut on your lip, your eyebrow has been cracked, as has your skull, and you look completely destroyed. Your life is in his hands, and you’re slipping through his fingers. 

“Who did this to you?” Matt growls. 

“They’re gone,” you whisper. Even though you are injured, you don’t sound scared, you’re not in pain – you have accepted your fate. A fate Matt refuses to see.

“I’ll get you out of here. You just have to hold on a little longer, and then we’ll end them together. I promise. We’ll come home tonight and we’ll have Tacos and–”

“Matthew,” you reach for his face, “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay, he thinks. You’re bleeding out, you’re dying, and you’re too far from the nearest hospital for him to even try to make a run for it. Even an ambulance won’t make it here in time. It’s not okay, no matter how badly you want to convince him of that, and just like that another wave of blood gushes out of you and into his hand. It feels heavy, like your life’s essence is trying to escape but he doesn’t want it to. You can’t die, he promised he wouldn’t let you. 

“No,” he says again, more sternly this time. “Don’t even talk like that, okay? You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?” He calls your name.

You feel yourself getting dizzier by the minute, but you’re oddly content. “I– I won’t make it–” You’re cut off by a cough, and you taste the copper on your tongue now, too. 

“Shh, yes you are. Stay with me, sweetie, stay with me!”

He can say it all he wants, it won’t change the brutal reality of the situation. 

You’re dying, and he can’t save you. 

You pull him down by his sleeve. “Promise me,” you breathe into his ear, “That you’ll– you’ll take that trip to Eu-Europe. Promise me, Matthew. Promise me you’ll l-live.”

“Stop talking like you’re dying, I–”

“I am.”

“No. We’ll get you an ambulance and then you’ll be fine.” 

A tear slips from his cheek and onto your face. 

“Matthew, please, just…”

“No…”

“Thank you,” you whisper, “for everything. For- for being my brother.”

He calls your name, but the noise fades into the background. 

“I love you,” and these are your last words before the dark void grabs you and hands you over into the hands of the Grim Reaper. 

You look over your shoulders on your way to the light, the last thing you remember being the tears on Matt’s cheeks and the scream he lets out as you leave, your life slipping through his finger like the sand in an hourglass. 

You’re gone, and he couldn’t save you. The one thing he promised to do, he failed at. He failed, and you paid the ultimate price for it. 

He stands alone at your funeral. Just like him, you didn’t have anyone. He made the men that did this to you pay for what they did, and the bruises on his knuckles still burn as the sun shines down on him. It doesn’t rain, which he sees as a sign from you, a silent encouragement that it is okay for him to move on and find the light as you did, but he can’t accept it. He can’t accept that you’re gone. 

You were too young to get dragged into this, and now you’re gone. It’s his fault, and beating the ones responsible to the point they fell into a coma still didn’t feel enough.

He sends a silent prayer up into the sky, but God doesn’t listen, and he doubts he ever will. Mercy is something he doesn’t deserve, and he will carry the guilt with him until the day he dies. 

[hannahhook7744]

Got any hc for Mr. Deley in your BDA descendants rewrite ?

Okay so I decided in this au, that instead of him being the usual dirtbag I write him/perceive him as I would write him as a tired, grumpy teacher who is frustrated by the lack of proper safety equipment in the school labs.

As a man who has had to explain to FG and his several other non-human coworkers why exactly this and that safety equipment is needed when teenagers-with-still-developing-brains are the ones handling the chemicals they're experimenting with, and why they need to spend more money on things like that.

A man who has had to remind his coworkers several times 'no, human children aren't fire resistant' and 'no, chemicals spilling on a human child does not have the same outcome as if it spilt on a demi-god, fae child, etc.'

A man who is used to explaining everything about a zillion times to his coworkers, superiors, and angry parents who's kids get away with everything short of murder and students who couldn't care less about what he's teaching if they don't get to do an experiment that day.

That is to say, I want to write him as a man who is tired of everyone around him and endless grumpy because he does not get paid enough for any of this but who isn't completely prejudice. A man who can admit he had a wrong first impression and who can try and change for the better (read a fic once that inspired this inkling of my brain). A man who has had to hear countless jokes about his name, and just wants to get a student who is actually eager to learn instead of students who give him heart attacks because they don't listen to instructions and, as one certain demigod student in his first year of teaching did, drink the chemicals on a dare in the not even two minute span he had his back turned to write the instructions down.

Which leads into my Badun Detective Agency Descendants rewrite where instead of the core four, it's The Badun cousins, Hermie Bing, Eddie Balthazar, Yzla, Reza, and Hadie who come to Auradon first.

Mr. Deley's expectations are low.

Is it right? No but it's the truth.

He hasn't had high expectations for many of his students since his third year of teaching and he certainly doesn't have any for students coming from a place where barely any teachers were sent.

He expects hell to be raised by the children (because even the Auradon Kids are little hell raisers who cause chaos who have thankfully gotten by miraculously unscathed).

He expects the children to months, if not years behind or completely unaware of chemistry in the worst case scenario.

He expects them to be disruptive and disrespectful, and for them to talk nonstop and cause all kinds of chaos that he'll have to clean up and smooth over with their foster parents because the heroes usually get mad if even a little unkind word is said about their precious little darling even if little Billy dared little Bella and not so little Hercules to drink chemicals or if little Susie set a girl's hair on fire with a lighter she wasn't even supposed to have in the first place.

All of that is to say, he had little to no expectations.

But these kids?

These kids blew all of that out of the water.

Jace Badun is quiet but follows instructions and answers questions when callee on, usually getting the answers correct or close to correct.

Hadie is eager to learn.

Harry Badun can keep up nearly seamlessly despite saying it isn't his best class.

Yzla and Reza are star pupils, always willing to learn something new and answer questions without even being called on, and they are always willing to tutor their peers if asked.

The only one of them he really has any issues with is Eddie Balthazar, because the kid is always falling asleep in class but that's not anything new and his foster parents say they're handling it, and that they're sorry they didn't inform him ahead of time about the issue.

They're honestly well-behaved more than the other students he has to deal with and make him rethink everything he had thought before hand (like Evie hopefully did after d1 though judging by the books about Aurdaon Prep like the New Vks Guide, probably not).

I thought it'd be a nice change of space and well, I do like trying to make characters more complex.

[the-french-belphegor]

Making my way (makinmawaayy) through my @critter-genfic-events bingo card, and this one's filling the "fights" slot! Or rather, "post-fight", which they told me works as well. Also it's set way before the start of the stream, when they're all more acquaintances and travelling companions than the friends and family we see later. They're already buds, though, for the most part.

Posting it on AO3 ASAP Now on AO3! Hope Tumblr doesn't hide the post from the tags! 🤞

(oh yeah, side note: I do know that concentration-based spells get dropped when you either don’t roll high enough to maintain it or when you take too much damage – like both invisibility spells do in DnD. But I liked the idea of being so concussed you don’t remember how to drop a spell :3)

—

Scrambled

Scanlan is pretty sure someone’s calling his name in the distance with a certain amount of worry. It’s okay, he thinks but doesn’t say. He’s gonna get back up any time now. He’s fine.

(Scanlan is more than fine, Scanlan is a godsdamn snack, thank you very much.)

In fact, he might even go as far as to let the word drag, let some notes slide a little: fiiiine. Four ‘i’s should about do it.

(Heh, four ‘i’s. Four eyes. That’s Percy. Where’s Percy?)

So, to recap, Scanlan is fine as hell, and he’s okay because he’s always okay, even with a headache so bad he’s pretty sure his brain is leaking out of his ears. Won’t check, though, that might be gross and his stomach isn’t doing too well either at the moment. Barfing while lying on your back? Yeah, no, bad idea. Of all the ways to die, drowning in his own puke is probably around number… sixty-eight.

Sixty-nine would be, of course, a particularly ill-advised tumble with someone with an ungodly number of teeth and a taste for blood, preferably that of a gnome with more curiosity than sense. As always with sex stuff with consenting adults, though, Scanlan isn’t willing to completely dismiss the idea.

Might be fun to try someday, who knows.

When he’s less tired.

Why’s everything swimming?

Actually asking out loud is out of the question, since for some reason his voice can’t even make it out of his throat, let alone his mouth –

(oh fuck no, if I can’t sing I’m toast, if I can’t play I’m dead, if I can’t talk we’re done)

– so at the price of an effort so bad he almost upchucks everything since the invention of breakfast Scanlan pivots his head juuuust a little to the left.

And sees nothing.

Well, no, not exactly. He sees yellowing grass, some dirt, a bit of sky. But nothing where his shoulder should be, or the rest of him.

…Oh yeah. He made himself invisible a while back. Somewhere between Tiberius’ Fireball, Vex’s arrows, and Percy’s pepperbox and its more-or-less controlled explosions. (Or maybe Percy went before him. Right before the world got very loud, very fast, and then very quiet. Somehow there’s a connection between this and that.) Dropping the invisibility looks like a really good idea, if only Scanlan could remember how. As things stand, he can barely remember to breathe. Oh, and also that the warm stickiness soaking up the back of his head and seeping into his collar is Not A Good Thing – not that there’s a lot he can do about that.

Things are rather quiet now. He must’ve missed the end of the fight.

Seriously, though, where’s Percy? Scanlan can’t hear the usual blasts and somewhere in the shattered mess that is his brain there’s a nagging inkling that it’s a bad sign. Or maybe there’s something else poking at the edges of his mind, he doesn’t know. He’s not exactly up to turning stuff over in his head at the moment. Turning his head was hard enough.

He’s just gonna… chill there for a while. Rest his eyes a little bit.

Which is why he doesn’t spot Vex running over until she drops to a crouch next to him and squashes his hand with her knee for five seconds.

Vex’ahlia is sharp eyes, sharp aim, sharp words, sharp everything. Her knees are no exception. Ow.

“Shit shit shit, fucking shitballs,” Scanlan hears her mutter under her breath as her hands find his head with uncanny precision considering she can’t see him. Her ‘t’s are beautifully defined, her vowels clear and precise. It’s a pity she sings so rarely; most performers would kill to have her diction.

“PIKE!” she yells over her shoulder. “OVER HERE!”

Pike, echoes the part of Scanlan’s mind that’s still functional. It would have been a small, pitiful yearning sound if he’d been able to speak. Thank goodness the word doesn’t pass his lips as is. It’s frankly a little scary just how the thought of her – the first in a while that doesn’t feel fractured in some way – quietens the part of him that’s not watching the proceedings with a detached interest. Pike is fun to flirt with and try to charm; she’s beautiful and radiant and strong, anyone with an appreciation for the female form can see that, so it’s not so surprising that Scanlan always feels drawn to her like a sunflower to sunshine. It’s so easy to let himself get starry-eyed over her, even if she’s so completely out of his league it bypasses sad and goes straight into funny. Scanlan probably is in love with her, a little bit, like he’s a little bit in love with everyone. Just… sometimes… sometimes when he calls her the love of his life he’s not sure he’s joking.

The nausea and the waves of blinding pain relent a little.

Pike?

No, Scanlan corrects himself, Vex, who when he manages to focus for more than a second finds his gaze and holds it. Unerringly.

Which must mean… the hour is up. The spell must be wearing off.

Huh.

“There you are,” says Vex, residual magic still shimmering in her fingers after her low-level Cure Wounds. She must really be tapped out.

There is blood in her hair and one of her feathers is bent at the stem, but the most telling cue that the fight went wrong is the brittle quality of her smile. She’s good at putting up a front, almost as good as Scanlan; insight isn’t Scanlan’s forte, let alone when his head feels like it’s just been cracked open like an egg, but sometimes seeing Vex’ahlia slice her way through life like a knife, just as sharp and just as shiny, is like staring into a warped mirror.

She’s good.

He’s better.

(Usually.)

“How’d you find me?” he croaks.

Vex draws back the hand she was using to prop herself with a couple of inches from his head. Her palm is coated with red.

“Head wounds, darling. They tend to bleed rather a lot.” She cocks her head to the side. “How did you even end up all the way here in the first place?”

Scanlan’s memories still feel like a scattered jigsaw, but at least now the pieces are right side up. What he puts together isn’t very glorious. Getting punted into a rock by a giant who only heard you and who was supposed to go down easily isn’t anything to brag about. At least he can always quip about it.

“Well,” he wheezes out with a grin that might work better without the blood in his teeth, “I got got.”

Then he remembers why the giant whirled round blindly and whacked him with his club. He’d been out of any useful magic, trying to sneak up on it with a fucking sword, of all things, because the big dumb fucknut had somehow gotten hold of—

“Shit, Percy – where’s Percy?”

Vex’s own smile gets wry and just a little shaky at the corner.

“He got got,” she says. There’s a story there, but at least Vex doesn’t look like it ended in tragedy. Instinctively Scanlan relaxes into his headache. “Don’t worry, though. Pike reached him in time and Grog and Keyleth got the giant.”

Oh. Good. Percival Freakystein von Mussels Colossal de Rolo III is one scary motherfucker with his pepperbox and his glasses and his devastating one-liners, but he’s still squishy as hell. Plus, well, he’s so young – Scanlan is fairly sure he’s twice, maybe three times older. The kid must be, what, mid-twenties tops? That’s way too young to die, especially having experienced so little of what the world has to offer. Scanlan would bet anything the stuck-up nerd has never taken anyone to bed, for the gods’ sake.

They’re all assholes, in the SHITs, sort of (except Pike, of course, and probably Keyleth too) but Scanlan likes them. If the universe suddenly decides that an asshole has to get killed today, he’d rather it be him rather than one of the others.

Still, nobody needs to know that.

“Worry, me? Please, I never worry.”

“I know you don’t, darling. I’m just updating you on what you missed while you were having a kip.”

Vex’s tone is even, her words light, and yet when Scanlan meets her gaze it’s like crossing blades. Somehow it also feels like grasping hands in reassurance and honestly it unnerves him a little. He prefers to know where they stand, and usually he does: he’ll downplay close calls and tell lewd jokes to alleviate the tension, while she’ll be sarcastic and magnificent and not call him out on his lies on the occasion she sees through them. But sometimes she reminds him that both twins are like blades, swift and sharp in more than one way, and in some of them she’s the sharpest. Gods, she’s terrifying.

He’s saved from having to retort something by the metallic rustle of ring mail over heavy cotton as Pike rushes up to him. Perspiration left traces in the dirt smudged across her face and her dark hair is mussed, whole locks coming out of her braided bun. She smells like sweat and leather and a little like wild strawberries, and she’s the most beautiful thing Scanlan’s ever seen.

Pike doesn’t lose a second with platitudes; she just gives him a very professional once-over, almost clinical in its efficiency, then cups his face with her hands with a look of intense concentration, eyes closed. The healing spell she pours into him feels so potent it’s practically an out-of-body experience. For a couple of seconds all Scanlan feels is warmth, clean and bright and fierce, and when he opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing his ears are still ringing.

Although that might be the blood loss.

Which would also neatly explain how weak he still is, especially when Pike’s face goes soft.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

There are so many answers he could give her.

I am now – with a wink and a nod.

I want to have your babies – with a theatrical gesture that will make her laugh.

I am if you are – with his heart in a smile. (NOPE.)

“I’m always okay,” Scanlan finally says with a grin, hoping for an echo.

Which he gets, so points to him for being awesome. Pike Trickfoot should always have a reason to smile.

Vex snorts and somehow still manages to make it sound classy as hell.

“Sure. Which is why the only reason I found you at all was the random pool of blood on the ground thirty feet from where we thought you were. You’re lucky I’m a good tracker.”

“Fair, fair,” he says with a careful nod. “Although that could’ve been from some forest critter that met a grisly end.”

“Please, this much blood, and this fresh? How dumb do you think I am?”

Scanlan sits up on his elbows and counts off on his fingers. “One, that’s gross – two, ‘dumb’ is the last of things that you are and you know it all too well – three, thank you for saving my life – four, that’s still so gross, oh my gods. What’d you do, sniff out my lifeblood?!”

“It was me or Trinket,” says Vex, looking way more smug than she has any right to. “It just so happens I beat him at the game of ‘spot the invisible gnome’. You know, before he dies on us.”

“Oh no. What a loss that would be. Such a young, useful bear, too.”

“How scrambled did your brains get? I meant you, you dick.”

Her peeved expression eases just as quickly as the smugness hardened into a glare, and she smiles at Pike before straightening up and striding off toward the others. Her perfect hips swing subtly as she walks, in an unassuming way Scanlan knows from experience requires a lot of work. He’d find her so hot if she wasn’t so scary.

(Well, he does find her extremely hot, if only because she could break him with either a gesture or a word, but despite popular belief Scanlan Shorthalt isn’t that reckless. Even he can weigh the pros and cons occasionally before deciding that diving in headfirst isn’t a good idea.)

There’s a snort on his right, and his whole world is Pike again.

“I really don’t get your little war on Trinket,” she says, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes.

“When he starts landing actual hits on whatever we’re fighting or even just holding his own more than two minutes, I might reconsider. Right now he’s just a glorified pack mule.”

“He’s plenty useful. He gives the best massages, for one thing. And he’s a good boy.”

I can be a good boy, Scanlan almost retorts, but refrains at the last minute. The lie is too big to work, even as a joke, and he doesn’t like the sliver of truth behind it, like the glint of a blade. So he settles for a fake disgruntled huff and a grin.

Nothing falls off as he picks himself up with Pike’s help, so that’s good news. He just has to suppress a shiver at the congealed blood, now gone cold, that makes the top of his shirt stick to his back. His ponytail is a mess, a clump of matted hair half glued to his neck. Ugh, he hates having to wash blood out of his hair.

His usual armour is back on, though. Pike doesn’t seem to notice the shiver; the look of slight worry she gives him has a general fight-almost-gone-very-bad flavour of ‘are you okay’ to it.

“I am glad you didn’t get scrambled,” she says in a rare mix of bluntness and thoughtfulness that’s uniquely Pike. “You know, for good. I mean, you looked pretty bad there for a moment.”

“Aw, Pikey-pants,” Scanlan says in a singsong voice, “don’t tell me you were worried.”

Pike gives a half shrug, which he feels because she’s thrown one of his arms over her shoulders and is supporting some of his weight.

“Oh well, you know,” she says in an offhand voice, a little high-pitched, “a little? You’re never silent this long, and then Grog and I couldn’t find you, and then Keyleth said she heard the giant hit something with his club, and then—”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about me, okay? Never worry about me.” He smiles, big and toothy, to counter the frown she gets sometimes when he says things like that. “I mean, there’s really no need. I’m awesome! I’m Burt Reynolds!”

This at least gets a smile with the hint of a smirk. Still sweet, though, because Pike could make (and has made) even the bluntest blow feel sweet.

“Esquire.”

Scanlan nods carefully, mock-serious. “Right, right, ‘Esquire’.”

“Shouldn’t forget that bit.”

“No, I should not.”

She smiles at him, sharp but warm, and there it is again – the sudden urge to say something stupid, make a joke, deflect, like raised hackles, because what if she gets the true measure of him? (‘And doesn’t like what she sees’ goes without saying. There’s a reason Scanlan spent the last couple of decades carefully building himself up.)

Being a charismatic bastard means sometimes you can afford to coast on charm alone. He grins and changes the subject, as swift and dextrous as a knife in Vax’s hand, and that’s it. Matters closed.

Honestly, he’d have to be a lot more scrambled than that for it not to work.

“No, Grog, there’s already a troll dick in the bag of holding, we’re not keeping a giant dick as well!”

…Plus there’s always the next distraction. That works, too.

—

(until it doesn’t, but he doesn’t know that yet!)

I started writing this on a whim and then couldn’t decide who I wanted to find Scanlan between Vex, Vax and Pike – so I decided to sort it out with a d20, set the DC at 20 (“hard”, because he’s invisible) and roll a perception check for each member of VM using their proficiencies at level 10 (the earliest character sheets of theirs Critrolestats have). Both Pike and Grog rolled a natural 1 :’( Keyleth and Percy got a 9, and even with +10 and +7 respectively for perception they failed the check; Vax got 26 (rolled a 16 with +10 perception) and then Vex got the same number but by rolling a nat 20! Plus her passive perception is 22, so that makes sense. And she was top of my list anyway, so ^^

(I spun the whump wheel a couple of times, thinking I’d get a good handful of prompts for some short snippets (like <1k words) and then happened on “concussion” and. Well. Someone clearly had a lot of thoughts about that one...)

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

The 21st One

Written for the amazing writer @epiclamer, I hope you enjoy this!

TW: Blood, bone-breaking, mentions of ice baths, knives, pain, very whumpy and a veryyy slight mention of suicide for an exaggeration (you'll get it when you read the fic)

Pain was not just a sensation anymore. It was Hero's new reality. Their every moment was characterised by agony, every laboured breath a desperate prayer to escape the hellscape they seemed to be tied down to, the strings of their miserable fate wrapped cruelly around their neck choking them slowly.

"You should see yourself, Hero. Such an alluring masterpiece I've made you into," Supervillain sneered coldly.

They would lazily grip their knife, slicing harsh jagged lines through the crime-fighter's battered skin, sometimes cutting again through old, barely healing cuts. They'd leave Hero covered in blood and sweat, save for the times they would force them into a tank of ice-cold water, the chill racking their slowly diminishing figure with shivers.

The master criminal knew exactly where to hit to make them howl out in pain, their efforts to muffle their own screams rendered completely useless. They desecrated their body with bruises, in hideous shades of brown, yellow, purple and a sickly blue alike. They targeted their weak spots, most of which were weak because they'd inflicted so much damage upon them in the first place.

They don't beg, but they don't try to resist either. It's not like it would've made even an inkling of a difference. Supervillain was hell-bent on making Hero's torture an everlasting experience, till they were more wound than body.

But today, they are especially awful, as though trying to prove their passionate contempt of the mere idea of mercy and decorate it with their lack of empathy.

"I've written myself all over you," the croon, voice so venomously sweet with a promise of danger lacing their tone, sending an involuntary shiver up the crime-stopper's spine. They trace their fingers across yesterday's scars, sticking the nails into open cuts.

They decide to smash parts of Hero's ribcage, slamming their boots one too many times into their victim's abdomen until they hear a loud, grotesque crack.

"Sadly, I have some important matters to attend to. But don't you worry, little hero, someone else will play with you until I come back." And they leave them, breathless, spurting out blood, tying them to the chair again with harsh bindings.

It's only a few mere moments later that the door reopens again, light creeping into the desolate room, and the sound of footsteps echoes in Hero's ears.

Villain.

They would've sobbed, but they didn't have the energy to even breathe. The criminal was ruthless in their fights, and they weren't afraid of playing dirty. Their nemesis gives them a cold look

Pointlessly, foolishly, they ask for a luxury they're certain they can't afford. "C-can you p-please jus' not. . .not hurt me?"

"Give me one single, convincing, goddamn reason why I should," they hiss, fisting the hero's hair between their fingers.

Hero doesn't reply. There is no reason they can come up with that could ever be deemed 'convincing' by their enemy.

But the villain chooses to let go of their locks, and something flashes briefly in their eyes, a look akin to regret.

The blood loss must be making Hero delirious.

They pull out a knife from their belt, and the captive can't supress the soft whine that escapes their lips. Villain walks forward, blade in hand, unreadable expression on their stone-hard face. They stop in their tracks, tipping a little on the balls of their feet, looking almost lost for lack of a better word. Their grip tightens on the knife, and they cross the distance between them and the hero.

Only to slice through their restraints.

They cradle Hero's body against them, pulling them along and laying them down on the floor as they fetched some medical supplies. They can't risk getting a damned hero into the medbay.

They lay their form down on their lap, gingerly lifting their shirt up to examine the wounds. They wipe at them with antiseptic, subconsciously running their fingers through their hair whenever they winced. They bandage the broken ribs as best as they can, and carefully stitch up the deeper scratches.

"I'm almost done, hold still," they whisper gruffly, but there's a slight gentleness hanging off of their words.

They're lucky they brought their water bottle with them. They bring it up to the crime-fighter's cracked and bloodied lips, and they help them drink carefully.

"Th-thank you," they rasp out weakly.

"This is only so you owe me a favour, Hero," they snap, but it's half-hearted and missing the bite it needed.

A hasty attempt at a coverup for the real reason.

What they'd done was beyond dangerous. It was almost suicide, right in Supervillain's territory.

They don't care. All that matters is the crime-fighter slowly falling asleep properly for the first time in a month in their lap.

Villain had a habit of making sure they got what they wanted. They swore to stick to it for eternity.

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