#but then I thought about how we do this thing now where being 'nice' or socially performative is demonized for being inauthentic

[amazinglyashy]

"Sylus? A prankster? Get out of here-"

Pairings: Sylus x Reader, Luke and Kieran & Reader Summary: A short drabble about what goes on after all of the shady dealings, blackmail, and betrayal in the N109 zone. About how Sylus may have quickly discovered just how alike you are to the two henchmen he employs- and maybe, he isn't so different himself, either . Tags: Fluff, Pranks, Gender-neutral pronouns for Reader, Drabble Notes: I genuinely really love writing not just for Sylus, but a bit concerning the antics of Luke and Kieran. I might make some headcanon posts regarding the two of them soon actually, but we will see! Wordcount: 640

The problem was that Sylus had thought, against any sort of better judgement, really, that you were perhaps... similar to him.

He didn't think in the more obvious ways, no- he didn't think you would ever be a consistent player in black market dealings, he knew your idea of speeding was going maybe 15 over the limit at the max, and you definitely preferred nice cocktails over anything more simple like gin fizz or whiskey.

But he had thought you had a certain air of... maturity to you, that could match his own normally.

Well, you had proved him wrong.

Especially with Luke and Kieran.

He was honestly going to have to stop referring to them as the twins, and refer to the three of you as something more akin to the three musketeers.

It was a practically daily occurrence where he would wake up, and something, anything, would be out of place. Maybe the top three pairs of socks in his drawer were now mismatched, maybe the soaps in his shower were rearranged so his muscle memory would grab a bottle of conditioner instead of the shampoo and end up realizing only after he smoothed it across his damp hair. Nothing too big, but- little things.

And what made it worse, was that in joining those two little brats, you had effectively made the entire unit of you three better off. You were a horrible liar, but your brought not only a certain special brand of new ideas, but you also made it more difficult for Sylus himself.

See, he couldn't well punish the three of you with those sweet kitten eyes staring back at him if the three of you managed to get caught- and your involvement also was stirring up something... not quite new, per se. But something that had long since become dormant, and was so very rarely unearthed again throughout time.

And that was probably why you had found yourself putting on the wrong shoe on the wrong foot after visiting him occasionally, impulsively assuming that they had been left exactly how you had left them, too busy chatting with Kieran about something before you went on your way to notice ahead of time. Or maybe it was why you found your tongue turned purple in the mirror, stained such a goofily saturated color from something he had put in your portion of dinner set out at the table.

Of course, it took you a considerable amount of time to discover who was doing it- you had assumed Kieran had done it- or maybe Luke, out of revenge for not spending enough time with them, or because you had slighted them in some way. There was a small period of infighting between the three of you, before the dawning realization had come that- if it wasn't any of the three of you- who could it be...?

And while the three of you had all agreed on the same notion, that notion being that Sylus, the ruthless leader of Onychinus, did not play pranks, it was getting increasingly difficult to try and pin the blame on anyone else. Anyone else who worked for the man knew their place, or in better terms- wouldn't dare risk a silly prank directed at anyone who had a body count, or was closely associated with those with body counts.

It didn't take any of you long, however. To get past the initial disbelief-turned-shock about how Sylus was slowly joining in more and more in small little bouts of mischief- returning pranks that he received, or coming up with new ideas entirely- and start making even more of a game than it had been before. The four of you had a wonderful little game going on, and none of you seemed to want it to stop.

Not anytime soon, at least.

[sinsodom]

Through with all.

What i don't get is the fans reaction. You point out that he is so bad. Please where?? We still don't know shit what happened and why?? Why judge a cover by it's book??

What did he do besides saving the kid meanwhile tucking her to bed cause she had a fever?? If a possessive man wants to lock a person up, they can. He never really kept her away, just giving her the choice to stay back and mc just doesn't. He even says it. But MC just sucks and cant stay back. (and yes he knew she can escape, hello??)

Don't get me wrong here. He is weird. But you guys complain more abt that than that he came back and Mc just was like: oh what a happy sunday!! Lets go home and sleep in his place and continue our lives.

Until now we know that we know nothing. And saying that he is a bad guy is just as always too fast imagining. If he is undercover he has to do some things. Nothing points clearly out that he is on the bad side.

Most of you don't know how life works, it showed. Undercover you cant take risks. The drugging part wasn't even one?? Hes a colonel and can't tell what he does so he gave her the choice. She didn't trust him so he had to act. (wasn't too inoortant to get kevi cause when she wanted, shed leave) First mc is persistent and can't be beaten and than shes not finding out what's up with all?? Come on.

All in all. Im sure he is undercover to find out all about the fleet, experiments and co. To save mc again. What they all did and do. Mc is just too proud to clearly make him tell all, like she did before. She prefers the easier way.

So no. Caleb is no Bad guy. He is just undercover and MC absolutely doesnt follow. Up with him so he had to control her somehow. After Kevi got saved i was like: ooooh he knew and instead of bothering her, they did it. And mc fucks it up again. Sorry but i would drug her too.

All in all i am shocked how dark the community wants him to be. Making and forcing up conclusions and theories that don't even fit. A bit dark is okay but you want him to be basically ww2 asshole. What is wrong with you guys. Rapes and shit?? Forced?? Are you crazy?? Chillaxx.... He isnt what you want him to be. Accept it. And wait for the future facts from him.

Until now he is sacrifing everything he has and feels for mc. Lets not forget that mc is always a target cause of her core....

For me, mc is absolutely disappointing in reacting to caleb. Cant always be 1 with her but the whole story she reacted wrong for me being devot all the time and just eating all with no further things. I wouldn't talk a word to him and look at him until he explains something. That was like: yes please hurt me again and again, no matter the consequences, mc needs it.

Ew. Story was good, community just kinda ruined it.... Sadly.

Have a nice day yall 💚

Ps: NO ONE reacts like this, having a beloved back when you thought he is dead. No one. Facts.

[trying-harder-then-u]

Russian roulette

The gun hit the table with a loud "clank," catching Damien by surprise. He had been enjoying the sound of the wind rustling through the well-maintained trees, but now that a weapon was being chucked around, he reckoned he should probably pay attention. Turning around, he saw Jacob smugly looking down at him, his blonde hair dropping over his deep brown eyes, a spotless white shirt and a pair of tan pants loosely fitting his thin, lightly muscled frame, a gold chain the only jewelry he had. Damien sighed to himself; he should have known that his rich, bratty friend was up to something, but when you get invited to a rural manor for a weekend by the son of the richest oil tycoon this side of the Atlantic, you don't tend to make a habit of saying no. The gun was black with gold and white lines swirling around the barrel and handle; like everything in the house, it looked expensive, and like everything, if Damien broke it, his family would most likely be paying it off for generations.

"What are you doing, Jacob?" he asked, his tone dripping with the exhaustion that comes from dealing with a spoiled brat's shenanigans. "Setting up for the game," Jacobs's shit-eating grin told Damien everything he needed to know: something dangerous was about to go down, and if he didn't stop it, then there was going to be a news story about this in the next 24 hours. In his mind's eye he could see the text flash across the screen: "Heir to oil empire murdered in cold blood by a jealous, impoverished schoolmate." Carefully getting up, Damien weighed his options before deciding to go on with Jacob till he could convince him that whatever he had planned was a bad idea. "What are we going to play then?" "Oh, nothing too complicated, my dear friend." Damien watched unnerved as Jacob opened the chamber of the pistol and put a small pellet in it. "Just some good old Russian roulette."

…

"Are you fucking insane? You do know how Russian roulette ends, right? I thought you were just a dick, but this is fully psychotic." "Oh, calm down, Damien, you worry too much; of course no one's going to die." Jacob pointed the gun at Damien and pulled the trigger, causing Damien to duck for cover as a click sound revealed that it was one of the five empty slots, much to Damien's relief. "How unfortunate; anyways, it's not a real bullet; it's a powerful drug that one of my dad's friends made." "And that's better how?" "It's this whole atomic structural thing. I'm not sure how it works exactly, but anyone hit with it can have their genetic makeup altered simply by the thoughts of the closest person, that isn't themselves, of course." Jacob proceeded to point the gun to his skull before shooting again, another harmless click. "See, I'm playing fair." "Jacob, that is not the point; I don't want to play at all." Damien was confused how Jacob was so nonchalant about this whole thing. Even if this whole atomic restructuring nonsense was real, what did he have to gain from that? "You're so unfun sometimes, but fine, I'll sweeten the deal for you: we play one game, and if I lose, then I'll make sure your parents get a nice cushy job where they will never have to go hungry again." The offer made Damien double back; it was one thing to give into Jacob's flights of fancy, a whole other when he could get his parents out of the rut they were currently in. "Fine, one game." "Great, let's sit down and continue."

Damien held the gun in shaking hands; he knew now that the bullet wasn't able to harm him, but his whole body being at the whims of Jacob was still terryfying even if it was temporary. Click, safe. Jacob, turn now and click. There are only two bullets left, and so a 50/50 chance; no turning back now. Damien's finger moved the trigger and-. Damien felt strange; he couldn't hear anything; the wind in the trees was gone; he didn't hear the gun go off, but this weird state he was in seemed to say he had been drugged; color swirled around him until finally something formed in front of him. Jacob.

"Hey there, dear friend," Jacob's smile seemed more malicious than usual. "Seems like you lose, so I'm going to enjoy the show now." Jacob leaned back; Damien's skin felt like it was crawling; he felt like spiders were crawling all over him, but as he looked to see what was causing it, he almost jumped back in surprise. His skin was changing; it was growing darker. He watched as the melanin in his skin increased until he went from the olive skin tone he inherited from his mother's Italian genes to something much darker; he looked almost African. Not only that, but the calouses from working after school to help his family vanished along with all his blemishes and pimples till his skin was as clear as day, but how was that possible? Damien remembered now the drug; the closest person controlled his atomic structure, but what was Jacob doing to him? He looked up to try and address Jacob, but a punching sensation in his gut drew him to look down, seeing his clothes dissolve away and abs form; the rest of his frame was not neglected either; he continued to bulk up and even felt a couple inches added to his height till he was a goliath of a man; his feet and hands grew much larger, his face grew more chiseled, and his hair shrank back into his head.

He tried to yell at Jacob, but before he could, their faces collided as Jacob passionately kissed Damien. Only moans, slowly deepening in pitch, escaped his mouth. "God, I've been waiting so long for this. You think I'd ever be friends with your poor ass? God, no, you're my plaything now, and don't worry, it's permanent." Damien whimpered as Jacob's hand reached down, grabbing onto Damien's cock, and began to stroke slowly and methodically. Each time Damien felt more confused: where was he, why was he worried about his parents, who was he? His mind slowed as he gave into Jacob, the pleasure overwhelming his mind. His dick grew larger than it had ever been before, 4 inches, now 5, 6, till a 7-inch-long monster was left in its place. Damien's moans grew louder as he neared the end; he just wanted to cum; he didn't know who this strange man beating him off was, but he just wanted him to continue. Jacob continued to go faster and faster, until long streams of hot cum splashed across both of them. up his hand to for Damien to lick clean, which he gladly did, enjoying every taste.

2 months later

He was sitting at home, waiting for his rich boyfriend to get back. He had spent the last 2 months spending every hour he could with Jacob, but with Jacob's school, he had large amounts of time to reflect and learn how to be a good boyfriend, how to cook, clean, and do everything for Jacob. Awhile ago, two older people came around looking for their sun that shared his name, but he told them he had no clue where he had gone. His life was good, but the best part was no doubt every night when Jacob would take control; he would sometimes be pleased and sometimes give pleasure, but regardless, he knew that life would be good when he just went with what his boyfriend said, and man was life good.

[darkredsugarcookie]

"The Pressure of His Lips" - ex!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! Like three (3) people have asked me to start posting fics on here, so here we go. I'm new to posting on tumblr, but I'm a wattpad and ao3 veteran, so be nice. I'm still trying to figure out the formatting and everything for this place :P

Summary: After breaking up due to your secret relationship being brought to the surface, you are not handling the separation well. Too much vodka and lonely nights end with you accidentally Bucky from the bathroom floor.

Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy intoxication, mentions of smoking weed, slight hint at SA history upon the reader, angst, alpine mention!!!! let me know if I missed any!

DISCLAIMER: This is an excerpt from a bigger fic I've been writing in which the self-insert has a history of SA. It is hinted at for one sentence in this specific blurb.

By all means, I should’ve been the one that managed to keep my head above water. Dad hit rock bottom when he was my age— after my grandparents died. He was no stranger to tell me about it. It was always an example of what not to do. Even Mom had her struggles after she lost her brother. 

I had every picture perfect reason to stay away from anything that could drag me down like a weight in still water. Which is why I couldn’t tell you how I ended up at the bottom of a bottle on a Monday night in uptown Manhattan. 

For a long time, I refused to drink more than once in heavy social settings after what happened when I was seventeen. But this? I didn’t care anymore. I needed whatever would keep him and my parents and the team out of my head. 

The problem I was running into, however, was that by the time I was cross-faded in a mass of bodies in a bar uptown, he was the only thing I had the ability to think about. 

Everything I wouldn’t confront during the day when I was sober chased me down until I was curled up in the corner of a bathroom stall. 

The smell of weed clouded my senses as the cold tile floor hit the backs of my thighs. The vodka still on my tongue made me dizzy and I could feel my heart beating like a drum in my head.

Every memory axed its way into my head like a migraine I couldn’t shake. I could spend every night like this, I could dance with strangers I didn’t care about, I could swear off men to my best friend and demand that I was completely fine, but I would always end up like this. Thinking about how I could still feel the pressure of his lips on my skin and if I tried hard enough, the temperature of the bathroom tiles almost felt like that of his arm under my fingers whenever we were curled up together. 

I couldn’t keep a straight thought. It all flashed through my head in images I couldn’t shake. 

My phone was vibrating. 

I fumbled for it, where it was tucked into the front of my dress, and I didn’t even check who was calling when I  tapped the screen and held it to my ear. I sniffled, wiping my nose. My cheeks were wet. 

I was crying. That seemed to be pretty normal for me these days. 

“Hello?” 

I blinked. Great, now I was hallucinating voices. I’d never reached that point of being wasted. “Nat,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I probably just ruined my makeup already. “What’s up?” I did my best to sound sober. Probably didn’t work.

There was a heavy sigh. “You didn’t mean to call me,” he said. 

“You called me,” I replied. 

“No, I did not. Are you… Are you okay?” 

“I am fine,” I said. “I’m not… supposed to talk to you.” “I know, angel.” Another sigh, a shuffle of something. Maybe blankets. It couldn’t have been that late. 

“Are you sleeping?”

“It’s almost four in the morning.”

My head was pounding, swimming… I couldn’t quite breathe right. “You don’t really sleep…”

“No, I don’t. Less now. Where are you?” 

“Why?” I felt defensive all of a sudden. No matter the fact I didn’t think I could get up off this floor if the building was on fire. 

“Because you’re drunk, sweetheart. And you’re alone. It’s not safe.”

“You don’t know that I’m- if I’m alone.”

A brief pause. “Yes, I do. Do you know where you are?” 

I was picking at a loose thread on the hem of my dress. “I’m…” I squeezed my eyes shut. That string wrapped around my finger twice. “I’m in the bathroom.”

“Okay, hold on—” I heard a door shut. It was quiet for a second. “I know where you are. You stay in the bathroom, okay? I’ll come get you.”

“But you—”

“No, you stay where you are.” I shrank a little. “Hear me?” 

“Yeah…” “Good. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I think I fell asleep after that, because the next thing I remember was hearing a commotion of voices— only one of which I recognized. 

Then it got so bright as the stall door was pushed open and I swear it felt like my heart that had dropped dead almost a month ago was beating again. 

Bucky’s face was a mix of emotions as he touched my cheek. “Sweetheart…” He said, letting out a breath. 

“Why are you here?” I asked, blinking a few times to try and see clearly. If he was here, I wanted to feel it, see it. All of it. 

“I’m here for you, doll.”

“But you hate me.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “No, I don’t, baby. I don’t hate you. But we need to get you home, come on.”

Without waiting for me to say anything, he lifted me to my feet. “Where are your shoes?” he asked. I just shrugged. 

As I limped my way to the bathroom exit, one of the other girls stopped him, demanding that he either explain how he knew me, or set me down. If I was sober, I might have hugged her for that. “He’s…” I started. 

She cast a worried glance from me, to the man holding me up. Bucky sighed and pulled out his phone, showing her the screen. “She’s mine, promise.” I barely caught a glimpse of the wallpaper. It was a picture Avery had taken of us when we were in Atlanta, we were in the kitchen, not even aware she was watching. 

Once we were past the crowds, he shoved the door open and helped me outside. The chilly air shocked me a little back into my senses, but not much. 

He pulled the car door open and helped me into the passenger seat before rounding the hood and climbing in. “I feel like lecturing you on how dangerous this is might be pointless because I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of it.”

I sniffled, wiping my cheeks. “I thought I was… fine.” “I’m sure you did,” he said, pulling onto the street. “Avery would have a heart attack if she knew about this, you know?” 

“Yeah… It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “This isn’t like you.”

“Sure it is,” I replied as I looked out the window. “It’s in my genes.” Bucky glanced at me, but didn’t say anything. When we pulled up outside my apartment building, I paused. “How do you—”

“I had a feeling something like this would happen. I got it from Nat.” 

“She gave it to you?” 

“I had to ask. Beg, actually.”

“That isn’t like you,” I said, quoting his own words. He cast me that same look he always gave me when I said something annoying, but valid. I smiled a little, tipping my head against the headrest of the car as I watched him climb out. 

When he got to my side and pulled the door open, he didn’t give me an option. Next thing I knew, he was scooping me into his arms and I didn’t have it in me to fight. I leaned closer, letting my body relax for the first time in weeks. I could scold myself for this in the morning. 

“What’s the door code?” he asked me. 

“My birthday,” I replied in more of a mumble than anything. “It’s—”

“I know your birthday, angel.” 

I sighed and nodded as we stepped into the warmth of the lobby. I didn’t question him as he held me the whole way to my apartment, his fingers occasionally brushing against my body as if it was muscle memory. 

He pressed the same code into my door keypad and shoved the door open. 

“Don’t let the cat out,” I muttered. 

“The what— Oh my god.” I heard my little white kitten meow up at him. “That’s Snowball,” I said. “Or Alpine. I can’t choose.”

He sighed, a small smile on his face. “I like Alpine.”

Bucky carried me to the master bedroom and set me on the bed. I rubbed my eyes, the ache behind them starting to grow. He disappeared for a second and when he came back, he put a glass of water in my hand. “Drink this,” he said, setting my shoes in my closet. I wondered briefly where he found them before he returned from the closet with the Avengers Compound sweatshirt that used to be his, but I had reclaimed. “You can’t sleep in that dress,” he said. “Or that makeup.” 

“I’ll be fine—” I started. 

“No. You’re gonna change. I’ll give you a—”

“I can’t get the zipper myself,” I said quietly. “It’s not- It’s not a ploy… Promise.” 

He helped me to my feet and turned me around before tugging at the zipper. I felt the air hit my back a second before his hand landed at my waist. “Are you gonna remember anything from tonight?” 

“I hope so,” I said softly. Other words for definitely not. 

Bucky sighed and dropped his head to my shoulder. “I miss you,” he breathed, lips brushing against my skin. “More than I’ve ever missed anyone.” 

A pain lodged itself in my chest. It was so deep that in this moment I genuinely didn’t think it’d ever leave me. And if it did, it might just leave a hole where it sat. “Bucky…” 

“Get changed. I’ll be right back.”

When I felt his body heat disappear from me, I dropped my dress to the ground and tugged on the sweatshirt he’d set on the bed. I didn’t bother with shorts, just left my underwear on. 

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, finished my water, held my hands in my lap. 

Bucky came from the bathroom and clicked on the lamp beside my bed. He took my face in his hand and with the warm rag in his hand, wiped it gently along my face. “Close your eyes,” he said softly. 

I did as I was told. It wasn’t as in depth as I could’ve myself, but it was enough to keep my eyes from hurting in the morning.

He tossed the rag in the hamper and guided me into bed. “You need to sleep,” he said softly. 

“I’m not used to sleeping alone,” I mumbled against my pillow. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he replied, fingers combing through my hair. “Me either. But you’re gonna be okay.” 

I felt exhaustion coming for me like a thief in the night. “You think so?” 

“I know so. Sleep, baby.” 

A breath escaped me. I didn’t have the energy to speak anymore.

As sleep pulled me away, I felt his kiss against my head. Then the light clicked off and it was gone like a dream. 

[lovelyjj]

Just Doing My Job

Stuntman!JJ Maybank x Director!reader

requested by @thornyrose463

Being a movie director had its perks. You loved your job, you really did. You had all the power. You always had to make sure all the actors were good and all the technical aspects of the scene were good.

JJ was smitten. He had a massive crush on you. He was way to nervous to act on it though. JJ was a stuntman on the set you worked on. JJ was great at his job. He excelled at it. He was excited because he got to work with you everyday.

JJ was doing a particularly hard stunt. He had to fall from a tall height. JJ was a professional he had this in the bag. “Alright action,” you yelled. JJ fell and landed on an air mattress. “And cut.” “Very nicely done JJ,” you complimented.

“Thank you,” JJ replied. JJ’s next stunt was a car crash. The car was also going to explode. JJ knew it was going to be a little difficult but he knew he was going to nail it. You called out action and JJ preformed his stunt beautifully.

“Hey JJ, come here we’re gonna talk about the scene,” you called out to him.

JJ always got so flustered around you. He just got really nervous because you were so pretty and he thought so highly of you. “Okay.”

“So how do you think you did?”

“Oh um I-i i think i did okay, what did you think?” JJ asked.

“Well there’s some points I have to discuss with you but overall i think it went well.”

JJ was trying to get the nerve to ask you out. He just was so scared you would judge him. He also didn’t want to ruin the work relationship he had with you. He was already awkward enough he couldn’t imagine if things got even more awkward.

“Thank you,” JJ responded.

“Hey JJ, great job today. Get some rest for a good day tomorrow,” you ordered.

“Yes m’am.”

——————

The next work day went well. JJ wasn’t doing as many stunts as yesterday but he still had to be there because he was doing some stunts. You arrived early to get a jump start on the day. JJ watched you as you worked, not in a creepy way in an endearing way.

The work day trudged on. You did your job as director. Being the boss and directing the actors. After a while you told them to take 5. This is where JJ came up to you.

“Hey uh how are you?” JJ bit his lip nervously.

“I’m hanging in there,” you responded.

“Anything I can do to help?” JJ asked fiddling with his fingers.

“Oh no i’m good just working hard,” you smiled. JJ thought it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

JJ was trying to get the courage to talk to you more he was just so nervous. He was determined to ask you out the next time he saw you.

—————

JJ was back doing his stunts. It was the next work day and he was on fire. Literally. It was a new stunt for the movie and he was killing it. He was very good at his job and you were impressed. With his adrenaline from the stunt he found himself walking towards you.

After his scene he went up to you and nervously asked if he can have a word. Of course you said sure like it was the most easy thing to say.

Now JJ was scared because of the chance of possible rejection but also what would happen to your work relationship. He ultimately decided that it was worth it to even get the chance to ask you out.

“Um i was just wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime. Maybe we can go grab some coffee, i i don’t know only if you want to.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you grinned.

“Rrreally? you’d like too? you want to?”

“Yes of course.”

When you agreed on a day the two of you went out. JJ charmed you. He was a gentleman the whole time. And it was safe to say there will be a second date.

[lacydollette]

TEAMING UP ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: exbf!dean x huntress!reader

warnings: heavy tension, mention of guns, dean being cocky, explicit language, lowkey a lil angsty, maybe fluff (?)

Dean moved carefully through the forest, keeping his steps light, always on high alert for any signs of the werewolf pack they were hunting. The brothers had tracked the attacks to this abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect hideout—isolated, hidden deep in the woods, far enough from any town that no one would hear the screams. His grip tightened on the silver knife in his hand, they were close now.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't too far behind. They had split up to cover more ground, but something about this hunt felt off. He couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't the only ones out here tonight.

That feeling was confirmed when he heard the faint rustle in the bushes ahead. Instinctively, Dean tensed, his body ready for a fight as he inched closer to the noise. He barely had time to react before something lunged at him, slamming him back against a tree with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs.

Before he could get a grip on what was happening, he felt cold steel press into his chest, and a fierce hand gripping his throat. Whoever had him pinned was strong and definitely a combat master. And as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, he recognized the face glaring up at him.

"y/n?"

His voice came out rough, startled. It had been years since he'd seen you—his ex, the one who'd walked out of his life after you’d both decided your worlds were too dangerous to pull love and feelings into the mix. The one who never left his mind, no matter how much time passed.

You blinked, shock flashing in your eyes before it hardened into something more familiar. You stepped back, releasing him, but the gun stayed firmly in your grip, aimed at him as you spoke. "What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"

Of all people to run into on this hunt, it had to be him. It was like the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on you. You hadn't seen Dean in years, not since you both decided to go separate ways. Too much baggage, too much history. You had moved on. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

He rubbed his neck, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the fact that you had nearly taken him out. "Nice to see you too, y/n. Still got that charming bedside manner, huh?"

Your eyes were cold, all business, just like you had been when you first met on a hunt years ago. You hadn't changed much—still fierce, still sharp, still... fucking beautiful. The moonlight highlighted the determination on your face, and for a second, Dean almost forgot where you two were.

"I nearly shot you," you said frustrated, trying to get rid of the thought of almost killing your ex boyfriend. Dean shrugged, his smirk fading as he let out a breath. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Your jaw clenched, and he could see the wheels turning in your head. He didn't know whether you were more annoyed that he was here or that he'd caught you off guard. Definitely both.

"This is my hunt," you snapped, eyes narrowing at him. "I've been tracking this pack for weeks.", "Yeah, well, so have we," Dean replied, meeting your glare. "Sam and I are here to take them out. Same mission, different day."

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a second, Dean thought you might shove him back against the tree again. You had always been like this—stubborn, independent, never one to back down. It was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place, even if it was also the reason you couldn't make it work. You were too much alike, both hunters, both living lives that didn't leave room for anything or anyone else.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "I don't need your help, Dean. I've got this." Dean crossed his arms, his expression serious now. "Really? You're gonna take on a whole werewolf pack by yourself?"

You glared at him, and he could tell you weren’t in the mood for his questions. But he wasn't about to let you get yourself killed, even if you wanted to do this alone. There were too many of them—he and Sam had already counted at least five, maybe more, and even someone as tough as you couldn't take on that many without backup.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "I know you don't want me here, but we're on the same hunt. Let's take these bastards out together, and then you can go back to pretending I don't exist."

You scoffed, your grip tightening on your gun while you rolled your eyes at him. You didn't need anyone else. You had always worked best alone, and you weren’t about to let anything—or anyone—get in your way. Dean's temper flared for a second, but he held it back. "Look, I'm here to finish the job. That’s it.”

You both stood there, staring each other down, the tension between you thick. It was the same as it had always been, that push and pull that had kept you together—and tore you apart in the end. Eventually you gave in, at least it would be quicker this way, right?

Dean couldn't stop himself from watching you as you approached the barn. You moved like a shadow, silent and sharp, every step calculated, your eyes scanning the area like a hawk. You were damn good—one of the best hunters he knew. But that didn't make him worry any less. The werewolf pack all of you were up against wasn't just dangerous—it was reckless, and there were too many variables that could go wrong. Dean knew that better than anyone.

You had always been independent, always insisted on doing things your way, and normally, Dean respected that. Hell, he admired it. Yet he couldn't shake the knot of worry tightening in his chest.

It felt like old times, like you were slipping back into the partnership you used to have, it was like no time had passed at all. You still got under his skin, still made his heart race in ways he didn't want to admit. And as much as he tried to focus on the hunt, on the job, he couldn't ignore the pull he still felt toward you.

There was unfinished business between you two—there always had been. And deep down, Dean knew that no matter how hard he tried to move on, some part of him would always be tied to you. You weren’t just part of his past. You were part of who he was, whether he liked it or not and he had to keep you safe.

Dean glanced over at you, his jaw tight. "Get behind me." You shot him a look, the fire in your eyes flickering to life. "I don't need you to babysit me, Dean. I've got this." He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady, but the frustration was bubbling up inside him. "I'm not babysitting you. I just don't want you to get yourself killed." You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Dean growled, stepping closer. "I know you can handle it, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna stand here and watch you get torn apart." Your eyes flared with anger. "I don't need your protection."

“y/n I just want yo-“ he started, wanting to explain himself, yet you couldn’t help the frustration growing inside you. You always hated when he got too protective. For some it may seem caring and sweet, which it definitely was, but it made you feel weak, like Dean didn’t trust you. So before he could finish his sentence, you turned on him, shoving him hard against the nearest tree. He stumbled back, surprised, but he didn't resist.

Your arm was pressed against his chest, face just inches apart. "I've been doing this a long time," you hissed, voice low and dangerous. "I don't need you swooping in like some knight in shining armor. I'm not the damsel here, Dean." His lips curved into a smirk, the familiar cocky grin he knew would rile you up even more. "Never said you were, sweetheart. But if you wanted to get rough, all you had to do was ask."

Your eyes narrowed, he was so annoyingly attractive like this. Dean could feel the heat between the two of you rising, the space between you growing smaller, charged with a tension that had been brewing for years. You were still pressed against him, body close enough that he could feel the warmth of you against his chest.

"Don't start with me, Dean," you warned, but your voice had softened, just a fraction. Dean leaned in slightly, his grin still in place. "Who's starting? I'm just trying to be helpful."

You faltered for a split second, and Dean saw it—the brief flash of confusion in your eyes, the way your breath caught in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken, not from the argument, but from the way he was looking at you. That look—the one that always tore down your walls, no matter how hard you fought to keep them up. You hated that about him. Hated how, despite everything that had happened between you, despite how far you had come on your own, he still had this hold over you.

Your grip on his shirt loosened just enough that he could feel the tension in you melting away, little by little. For a moment, you stood there, locked in place, the world around you already forgotten. Dean's eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a split second, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—they could pick up where you two left off, despite everything that had happened.

His eyes pierced yours as you tried to remind yourself of the reasons the two of you didn't work, the reasons you had left. Dean was trouble. He was chaos. But when his eyes had flicked to your lips, every rational thought disappeared. It was like all those years apart hadn't changed anything. You still wanted him, still felt that magnetic pull whenever you two were close like this.

Your breath hitched, and you leaned in, your lips barely an inch from his. The heat between you was undeniable now, thick and electric, pulling both of you closer. Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest, everything else fading into the background. It was just you and him, like it always had been. But just as you were about to cross that line, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Uh, Dean?"

You two immediately jerked apart, snapping back to reality as Sam emerged from the shadows, his face a mix of shock and confusion. His eyes darted between you two, lingering on your form, and the look on his face said it all—he hadn't expected to see you, not after all these years.

"y/n?" Sam's voice was thick with surprise, his brows raised. "What are you doing here?" You quickly pulled yourself together, straightening your stance as you brushed off the tension that had almost swallowed you whole. "Just... hunting," you said coolly, but your voice wavered just enough that you could tell Dean noticed.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the heat still coursing through him. He shot a quick glance at you, walls back up in an instant. You kept your face neutral, but inside, you were cursing yourself for almost letting it happen. You had almost kissed him. After everything, after all the time you spent trying to move on, you had almost let yourself fall back into Dean’s orbit.

Sam's eyes flicked to his brother, and Dean could see the question there, unspoken but loud. He didn't have an answer for him—not right now. All he knew was that something between you and him had shifted, and no matter how hard you both tried to deny it, you couldn't go back to pretending like nothing had happened.

Not after this.

links: dean winchester masterlist

tags: @gibson-g1rl @beausling @figthoughts @chevroletdean @titsout4jackles @deansbite @sugardean @deansbeer @supernatural-wolfie @hischrrypie @angelicjackles @littlelamy @nuemanfilms @starzify

[ender1821]

shinyduo/gempearl post-SL is sooo funny because before SL they were the typical "friends who like to do pranks with and against each other, partners in crime, really adorable sometimes" and then SL happened and they became OBSESSED with each other (really obvious from pearl's side since gem was more subtle) and innuendos started to appear left and right. now after WL they are not only obsessed they are also 10x times freakier and flirty. it's gem's fault a lot of the time but pearl enables it and digs herself into a deeper hole so she gets a wack too.

i am pleading to the sky for the fated shiny duo alliance to happen this year because 1) i am sure gem's possessiveness would get multiplied by 20 even if she tried to not show it and that'd be really fun + pearl would like it 2) their dynamic is so complex that they could be anything (codependent or healthy or possessive or die for each other or kill for each other or-) and 3) the aftermath of them teaming would be funny asf and the streams would be horrendous

thank you for coming to my ted talk 🙏

the freakier being in bold and italic is really getting to me for some reason lmao. anyway

you are right in the shift of them pre and post-SL, like, they are STILL giving cute partners in crime but also they’re. so. abnormal about each other??? thats not to say they weren’t flirty/making innuendos before the life series but god did all of that get worse after. also, it has kinda been shown how Gem is the one saying most of the questionable things, but Pearl definitely contributes a lot as well. lets not forget the pickles

of course we’re all manifesting for them to properly team up. its not even subtle at this point they both know that. the only things stopping it from happening really are luck and Gem’s homophobia (/j) cough. i mean. they would definitely get time to resolve what they failed to address back in WL if they’re allied together and can have time to talk. it could also make things worse but we’ll be seated either way. and then we’ll be questioning our existence again when the streams inevitably come

BUT. imo the alliance i really want is them + any other player. yep. i want a third wheel. it can literally be any other player because i think having someone else to affect/witness their dynamic is always entertaining, allows for exploration of new potentially fun dynamics between Pearl/Gem and another player while still offering plenty of opportunity for them to be. weird (/aff), and generally just gives the team a new spin instead of just Murder Camel 2.0. like. i’ve put way too much thought into this so there’s a whole ramble under cut about some of the potential trios and why i think they could be cool for a new life series

Jimmy: originally my life series s6 team predictions was pearl/gem/jimmy </3 mainly out of wanting more pearl + jimmy interactions, but i think having gem there helps just keep the team together. i thought they would be a nice team for jimmy in terms of support (think the SL scene where jimmy finds out he’s not the first out and they’re the ones there cheering him on) but well. thankfully we still had bamboozlers… anyway gem’s ego will get even worse if she had this team, and don’t we all wanna see that

Lizzie: PLEASE. impossible minecraft sent me to the point of no return because now i’m BEGGING for more pearl/gem/lizzie interactions. please. the girlies. we just need more gem + lizzie interactions in the life series imo, and we’ve already seen what happens when pearl + lizzie are together. i can’t tell you for sure if i think any betrayal will happen in this team but it would be really funny if there was, mainly just so lizzie and gem can bicker while pearl is just. There like a sad puppy. it’s cool if there isn’t though, i can see them thriving straight to the finale. cmon. think of the yuri

Ren: hey. hey. remember that one ren stream? you know the one. the wedding. do you see where i’m getting at. do you see the dynamic. it’s so funny to me ok. and we haven’t even mentioned the times where ren has mixed them up. i think it would be a horrible time for him to have to deal with these two and that’s so entertaining. if i picked jimmy because i thought he would have a nice time then for ren it’s for the complete opposite reason. make him suffer with these weirdos

Martyn: HE is the one who’s going to make them suffer. HE will be the one to make it worse. and it will be hilarious. let the man get some form of revenge for them terrorising him back in SL. they’re going to be insufferable and it’s going to be great. you might as well start the “hump duo” counter now …also i may just have a personal preference of wanting to see more pearl + martyn and gem + martyn interactions

Cleo: i mean. cmon. this one doesn’t need that much explanation. the people want a pearl/gem/cleo team

Impulse: same as cleo— SOUP GROUP ASSEMBLE!!!

Etho: pearl + etho interactions are great. gem + etho interactions are great. boom. gem gets to bully them both, then they either make a really successful trap or perform the greatest fumble ever! i see nothing but wins here

BigB: nosy neighbours… what if we tried again… plus i’m pretty sure there was a temporary gem + bigb team in RL, so why not give them a whole season. i think it would be fun. it’d be interesting to see how this team shifts with bigb’s general play style in the life series. i wonder how the base(s?) would turn out

Mumbo: listen to me. they have the funniest opportunity here to fluster this man to the high heavens. think about SL ep 5. think about it

Scar: so like. remember that 2v1? yeah. crazy, right? no but okay i don’t think if they teamed up there would be that much more emphasis on the 2v1 after all that in WL, but there WOULD be good times. i know this deep in my heart. the pearl/gem/scar interactions would go crazy. i hope they go on a hunting spree

Joel: i think this one is the least likely (on account of the fact that pearl has teamed with him in SL, and then gem doing the same in WL) but there could be beautiful world where pearl and joel build an even bigger and better car and gem just watches and sighs

Scott: insert manic laughter here. Pearlescentmoon you are about to have the worst time of your life ever

[hellfire-radio]

Take a deep breath, darling. That’s it—slow and steady. You’re safe here, with me. You’ve chosen this, haven’t you? To let me guide you, to sink deep into the spiral as you listen to my voice and the world I’m creating for you. You can stop anytime. You know that, don’t you? But you don’t want to stop. No, you want to drop deeper. You want to feel everything I have to offer.

Let your eyes focus on the spiral now. Watch it spin, round and round, pulling you in. Every rotation makes your thoughts softer, lighter, quieter. Isn’t that nice? To just let go? To let the world fade away until there’s nothing left but the sound of my voice and the feeling of surrender.

Let’s make things simple for you, shall we? Whenever I say bubble pop, your mind will go completely blank. Every thought, every worry will just disappear, leaving you empty and open.

And whenever I say good girl, you’ll feel a wave of pleasure—warm, wonderful, undeniable pleasure. It will fill you up and remind you how proud I am of you, how perfect you are.

Let’s try it now.

Bubble pop!

Feel it, darling—your thoughts vanishing, your mind growing soft and pliant. No need to think. No need to worry. Just an open, empty canvas for me to work with.

Good girl.

That’s it. Feel how good it is to let go, to be praised, to know you’re doing so well for me.

Now, I want you to imagine what it feels like to give up control completely. To be taken, guided, used in exactly the way you were meant to be. Picture it now—hands on your body, strong and unyielding, pulling you close. You don’t have to decide anything; you don’t have to resist. You’re just here to feel, to experience, to give yourself over.

Imagine being manhandled, my hands gripping your hips, pulling you into place. Isn’t that what you wanted? To be touched, held, controlled? You don’t have to think about what comes next. You don’t have to decide if you like it or not.

Bubble pop!

You’re too dumb to think about it. Too empty to resist. Isn’t that beautiful?

Feel the moment of hesitation, that little spark of fear. The thrill of wondering if this was the right choice. But it was, wasn’t it? Because you trust me. You chose this. You wanted this. You need this. To be taken, to be used, to be left with nothing but pleasure.

Good girl. That’s my perfect little doll.

Now, the commands. ‘Kneel.’ ‘Open your mouth.’ ‘Touch yourself.’ Each one makes your heart race, your body respond. You obey without question, because that’s what you were made for. You don’t need to think about it. You just do as you’re told, reveling in the safety of surrender.

Bubble pop! No thoughts, no doubts, just blind obedience and endless pleasure.

And when you feel my hands again—gripping, groping, guiding—it’s like electricity under your skin. You were made to be touched, weren’t you? To be taken. To be used. To bring pleasure and to feel it coursing through you.

Good girl. Every touch, every command, every moment makes you more and more mine.

You love this, don’t you? Being a toy, a doll, a vessel for pleasure. It’s what you were meant for. You don’t even need to think. Thinking is too hard for a silly little doll like you.

No, you just feel. You feel the pleasure, the pride, the trust. You feel yourself being filled up with every word I say.

Bubble pop! Empty again. So perfect, so pliant.

Get on your knees, where you belong, mouth open, so eager, so ready. Your lips are parted already, a little drool slipping down your chin as you stare up with those big, glassy eyes. You don’t even have to think about what to do—your body knows.

Your mouth was made to please, wasn’t it? To wrap around me, to suck, to serve. Every movement, every little sound you make is perfect, instinctual, and completely natural.

Touch yourself. Your hands can’t help but wander, can they? One of them drifting down between your legs, teasing yourself, touching yourself just the way you like it. You’re so dumb and aroused, aren’t you? Mindlessly following my orders like a good girl.

So lost in the pleasure, so empty-headed and desperate. That’s it, let your fingers slide against that sensitive, needy spot, stroking, circling. You’re made for this, after all. Made to feel good. Made to serve.

Look at you, darling. Such a sight. Your cheeks flushed, your tongue flicking over my tip as if you can’t get enough. The way your body arches, your hips grinding against your own hand, all while you wait for my next command.

You were designed for this, weren’t you? To be used, to be taken, to be made into something so utterly beautiful and mindless.

Bubble pop! There it is again, that sweet, empty look on your face. No thoughts, just need. Just desire. Just pure, raw submission.

And that expression—oh, what a delight. Dumb and aroused, drooling and desperate. You couldn’t hide your want if you tried, could you? But why would you? You love this. You love being like this for me.

You love the way my voice fills the empty spaces in your head, telling you what a good girl you are. That’s it, darling, moan for me. Louder. Needier. Show me how much you adore being my perfect, obedient fuckdoll.

Feel your throat tighten just a little, your lips stretching wider as I take what’s mine. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to suck, to serve, to please.

Every little noise, every shiver, every moan is proof of how perfectly you fit this role. You’re my doll, my toy, my treasure. And you love it. You crave it. You need it more than anything else.

Keep touching yourself. Keep moaning, keep letting that pleasure build and build. You don’t have to think about anything else—just focus on how good you feel.

Oh? Does my good girl want to cum? Is that why you’re whining so much?

Bubble pop! There we go, problem solved. Just focus on your purpose, what you are. Being a good fucking object. You can feel that pleasure and warmth building more and more, can’t you?

But you won’t cum without permission. No, you’re a good girl. You’ll wait for my command. You love to obey.

Keep touching and rubbing, darling. Come on, open your mouth a little more. I know you can take more. There we go. Good girl. Good girl…

Wait for it…

Cum.

Fuck, you feel so good. Good girl. Such a good little fuckdoll.

You’ve done so well for me. Such a good girl. You can carry these feelings with you, or you can let them fade away. You can read this again or look at the spiral. It’s your choice.

You’re in control now. But you’ll always remember how good it feels to let go. You love being helpless. Deep down you know this is all you are. A perfect needy fuckdoll.

[tgmsunmontue]

Tracing poetry with your lips - 4/? - Hangster

One juvenile kissing game and two juvenile idiots both convinced they can win the game. (Will be Explicit). Idea from @iprefervillains

ONE TWO THREE

PART FOUR

              He guesses he can touch as much as he wants now and he slips an arm around Bradshaw’s waist and kisses him again, softer and sweeter but still scorching hot and full of promise. Their bodies sway toward one another and he only pulls back because he hears someone mutter for fuck’s sake, get a room already and yeah, that sounds like a fantastic idea.

              “What the hell Rooster, you totally threw that…”

              “Yeah, and I’m totally torn up about losing. Trust me…” Bradshaw says and Jake feels a hot curling in his gut, because Bradshaw sounds pleased. Javy on the other hand is grumbling under his breath about having lost money and Jake does a double take.

              “You should know never to bet against me…” Jake says with a sideways look at Javy, who is, surprisingly, handing money to Phoenix. Huh.

              “Uh… do we want to know what the forfeit is?”

              “No!” Javy and Natasha both snap simultaneously and Jake snorts, because there’s confirmation that no-one heard the words they whispered.

              “Uh, you two look like you… enjoyed that,” Bob says, and Jake softens a little, because Bob has a heart of gold. Somehow, despite being surrounded by sarcastic egotistical aviators like himself and Bradshaw, Bob remains… nice. Nicer than everyone else anyway, because he can still be an ass when he chooses to be, it’s just not his default setting like it is for Jake. Good thing for him that Bradshaw seems to like him being a bit of an asshole.

              “Very observant of you Bob. And now we’re going to go and see what else we can enjoy…”

              “Oh man…”

              “We didn’t need to know…”

              “Brain bleach. Now.”

              “I already said to get a room.”

              “Excuse you. I’m a gentleman. We are going out to dinner to get to know one another…”

              “Bullshit…” Javy coughs out and Jake flips him the finger. Then he laces his fingers with Bradshaw’s and jerks his head toward the door. He nods and Jake realizes then that they’ve got a level of silent communication already started and he wonders when that happened. He’s only had the one beer, knows Rooster is the same, knows they’re both fine to drive but…

              “Are we really going on a date now?” Bradshaw asks, and Jake isn’t sure if he looks pleased or disappointed.

              “Fuck no. I’m taking you home and we’re going to fuck each other’s brain out. Then we can… talk.” He doesn’t mean to make the word sound distasteful, but he knows it comes out that way regardless. Fortunately Bradshaw seems amused more than anything. “Then I’m taking you out somewhere… just haven’t decided where.”

              “I’m easy…”

              Jake licks his lips, forces himself to hold back the I know you are, even if it’s probably blatantly obvious to Bradshaw that it is exactly what he’s thinking. There’s a little thought niggling in the back of his mind thought, and he has to ask.

              “You seem more than okay with losing to me just now… did you plan that?”

              Bradshaw snorts, steps in close to Jake so that their thighs are pressed tightly against each other and yeah fuck, Jake wants to get him home ASAP.

              “I’m going home with you and you want to date me… don’t exactly feel like I’ve lost anything here.”

              Jake is reminded of what Fanboy said, how he’d lost the game but won overall and what Bradshaw is saying very closely mirrors the same sentiment and he wonders if Bradshaw is aware of the fact.

              Jake finds he doesn’t care either way.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 6

Part 5

Dustin settled back into his bedroom like he never left, like he hadn’t just spent months in a hospital bed. It made Steve glad that he’d been scenting his things everyday in anticipation for his pup’s return. He walked in, seeing that Dustin was already in the process of building the dragon that Eddie had gotten for him. 

“Is dad coming by today? I wanna make this with him”, Dustin said.

And that word made Steve’s heart clench while making his stomach drop too. He came inside, closing the door behind him and getting on the floor with Dustin. He cleared his throat as he composed his thoughts.

“Look, Dusty, I know he’s really your dad. And everyone else in this house knows. But you can’t call him that.”

Dustin frowned. “Why not? He is, isn’t he?”

“He is”, Steve assured him. “But things aren’t that easy. If people know the truth, well, they’ll talk. And think of how it would make your-” Steve couldn’t call Tommy his father. Not anymore. “Of how it would make Tommy feel.”

“He’s a jerk. To you and to me.”

Steve couldn’t hold back the small smile he got from that. “Even so, this is a secret we’ve all been keeping. Even Eddie. And we need you to keep the secret too.”

Dustin huffed, but nodded. “Okay. So I just call him Mr. Eddie? That’s weird.”

“I know.” Steve patted the top of Dustin’s head. This whole thing was weird. If Steve was being honest, he never thought he’d see Eddie again. He thought that even if he ever told Dustin the truth, it would have been when he was older, an adult, and able to make his own decisions about whether or not he wanted to reach out to his true sire. But of course, life had to throw another wrench in the works.

Now he had to face the things he’d been hiding from for years. Steve wanted to talk to Eddie about them, but it was hard to get a moment alone. And also, he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be alone with the alpha. With that conversation done though, Steve left Dustin to it and went back to his own bedroom where Tommy was rushing to get ready. He was spending more and more late nights at the office, almost everyday at this point.

Steve knew it was probably because of Eddie. Eddie had already returned to where he was living now, he couldn’t stay at a motel forever. But he promised he’d be waiting on bells and whistles for that first dinner and Dustin’s weekend trips. It amazed Steve how quickly Eddie took to being a dad. But he realized he shouldn’t be surprised. Back then…Eddie had been happy, excited even.

Steve paced back and forth in the school bathroom. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening. He heard the bell ring and quickly stuffed the pregnancy test into his bag, tossing the box into the trash and rushing out before anyone else could come in. It was midday but when Eddie came by his locker, suggesting they skip, Steve agreed easily.

Eddie put his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they walked out of the school and towards his van.

“Something up angel?”, he asked once they were inside.

Steve thought about the test, sitting in his book bag like a hundred pound weight. He held it tight to his chest. “No, nothing. Hey um, let’s hang at the mall, okay?”

“Yeah, okay”, Eddie said, taking them there.

Steve wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do or how exactly he was going to tell Eddie, but at least going there would keep him from having to refuse beer and weed for now.

Steve was knocked out of his thoughts by Tommy slamming the door as he went out. Steve sighed as he saw how the room was left in disarray from his hurrying. Maybe he should have been nice and actually attempted to wake him up. He made the bed and then picked up Tommy’s clothes from last night. He was about to drop them into the hamper when he caught a whiff of something. Something sweet.

He brought the clothes up to his nose. He mostly smelled Tommy’s teakwood scent. But there was something else there. Something familiar that he just couldn’t put his finger on. He was about to dismiss it when he saw it. There on Tommy’s collar. Just the slightest smudge of lipstick. Steve’s blood ran cold and he tossed the clothes into the hamper before he could think more about it.

He went into the kitchen, searching for a drink when the phone rang. He didn’t feel up to talking, but picked it up anyway.

“Hey sweet-cheeks.”

“Eddie? How did you know it was me?”

“I didn’t. Just rolled the dice with that one.”

“Please remember that your son could also be the one to pick up.”

“Ah, shit, well, good thing it didn’t happen this time”, Eddie laughed nervously. “Anyway, you free today? Dustin too? I want you both to meet me by those apartments in Forest Hills.”

Steve wasn’t able to get anything out of him besides that it was supposed to be a surprise. He called out to Dustin, telling him to get ready to head out. He could think about the lipstick on Tommy’s shirt later.

------------------------

There was a sort of unspoken hierarchy among them all. Whoever had the most money was usually at top and that was the Harringtons. But reputation also played a role. So even though the Carvers weren’t quite as wealthy as the Harringtons, clean and pure and elegant Chrissy was more or less on the same level as Steve. 

The moment Steve was available, Tommy snatched him up, raising himself from the pitiful Hagan name and basically leaving Carol behind. She had no choice but to marry Andy just to stay relevant. Essentially Jason’s underling, that put Carol under Chrissy. It burned Carol inside. But soon enough she would be the most influential of their little town. In the meantime, she could entertain herself by stirring the pot just a bit.

So when she went to the club and saw Chrissy walking around with mousy Jonathan Wheeler, well it was like dangling a toy in front of a cat.

“Well, well and my, my. Now Chrissy, I could have sworn that the club was members only”, Carol said, smiling. As predicted, Jonathan closed in on himself, not meeting her eyes.

“As a matter of fact, Jonathan and Nancy are considering becoming members. I was just giving him a tour”, Chrissy explained, putting a reassuring hand onto his arm.

“Did you happen to tell him that a new member must be sponsored by two families?”

“Yes. And I am one of those sponsors.”

“And what about the other one?”, Carol pressed. After all, what was the point in being exclusive if you couldn’t rub it in the face of your lessers?

“Oh? Are you volunteering?”, Chrissy asked, then she continued before Carol could even respond. “That’s so nice of you, but I was thinking of suggesting the Harringtons. Dustin will be back in school soon, and that means Steve and Tommy will be around more. It could be just like high school.”

“Just like high school?”, Jonathan snorted, speaking up for the first time.

“Better than high school”, Chrissy amended. “Anyway, it was nice talking with you Carol but we’ve got to keep this tour moving.” With that, she and Jonathan moved around her but not before Carol got the final word.

“Be sure to show him the daycare. It’s the best place in Hawkins to leave your pup~”

She didn’t wait to see either of their reactions. She knew, based on the hospital gossip she had received, that it would have struck a chord with Jonathan. And that was enough. Over her dead body would Nancy Wheeler and her mutt of an omega join this country club.

-----------------

Steve and Dustin got to the apartment complex, which Eddie was standing outside of. He held his arms out wide.

“Ta-daaaa~”, he sang.

“Tada what?”, Steve asked.

“You didn’t think I was gonna make either of us drive that long way back to my place for Dustin’s visits, did ya?”

“Wait…did you….?”, Steve trailed off, catching on.

Eddie took them up and led the two of them to his new apartment, right in the middle of town. It was pretty modest, especially compared to the literal mansion they lived in, but to Dustin’s child eyes, all he saw was the place his real dad lived. He even freaked out appropriately when Eddie showed what would be his room. There was already a fully dressed bed and a desk with a DnD manual on top. While Dustin explored his space, Steve pulled Eddie to the side.

“Just how much did all this set you back?”, he whispered.

“Don’t worry about it, precious”, Eddie whispered.

Steve sighed. “You can’t keep calling me things like that. And I can’t let you spend all this money.”

“I can’t just call you ‘Steve’ when my heart knows you by so many other names. And it’s my money to spend. I meant what I said back then. I don’t want a single dime that belonged to your father.”

Steve suddenly realized how close they were, how his senses were suddenly filled with Eddie’s scent, how much he longed for him, and how it would be the perfect poetic justice if he acted on his feelings now when Tommy was almost undoubtedly cheating on him.

“Hey, Mr. Eddie!”

Eddie raised a brow at Steve for that. “‘Mr’?”

“Well he can’t call you ‘dad’ in front of everyone”, Steve said as Dustin came up to them. “People will gossip.”

“What about Uncle Eddie?”, their son suggested.

“Oh that gossip’s just gonna be worse for you and me”, Eddie grinned at Steve.

Steve ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, how about this. When it’s private, you can call him dad. But out in public, Mr. Eddie.”

“That works for me”, Eddie said, crossing his arms.

Dustin mirrored him, crossing his arms too. “That also works for me.”

“Alright kiddo, tell me about everything you haven’t already told me while I fix you up a Munson special.”

“What’s Munson special?”, Dustin asked as he was corralled into the kitchen.

“That’s code for ‘make something out of whatever’s in the kitchen. You love it”, Steve said as he watched Eddie get to work.

“You’re gonna love tonight’s special, sweetheart”, Eddie said, breaking out a pan and what looked like a dish of leftover lasagna from the fridge. There was also bread and a can of sardines.

“Eddie…I’ve got something to tell you”, Steve said as his boyfriend fixed up dinner. He was thinking of escape routes. He’d driven here, so he could drive himself back. Worst case scenario, the trailer park was only about six miles from his house. He could walk that. 

“What’s up?”, Eddie asked, eyes focused on his cooking. 

“I should’ve told you sooner. I’ve known for days, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you, how’d you react”, Steve said, wringing his hands together.

Eddie turned the burner off and gave Steve his full attention then. “Tell me what?”

Steve took a deep breath, knowing this would change things forever. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a beat before Eddie threw his hands up in the air, tossing the (thankfully still closed) can of sardines in the air and picking Steve up to swing him around. “Baby! This is great! Holy hell we’re gonna be parents!” He set Steve on his feet then. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be a dad.”

Steve nodded, eyes tearing up. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

“This calls for something better than a Munson special. Hold on”, Eddie started rummaging through kitchen drawers. “I’ve got a coupon for Tonio’s somewhere. A coupon to Un Petit Bite too.”

“Eddie…”

“I know, stupid name, and somehow I’m the one that’s failing French in this town?”

“No, Eddie”, Steve grabbed his hand, making him pause his search and kissed him, his hands coming up to cradle his boyfriend’s face. “We don’t need to go anywhere. I think a family recipe like the Munson special is perfect for a night like tonight.”

Eddie smiled before bringing Steve in for another kiss. “Can’t wait.”

“For what?”, Steve giggled.

“For everything. Seeing you get big and round”, he tickled Steve’s sides. “To meet this pup, to be a dad. I’m gonna be a good one, Stevie, I promise.”

“I know you will.”

Part 7 coming soon

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Things escalate to the point of complete and utter disaster.

Word Count: 5,593

Warnings: MAJOR angst, a suicide attempt, insecurity, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and blood.

Notes: Please prepare yourselves before reading this one, guys. I'm not joking around with the warnings here (not that I ever am, but you know what I mean). Also I apologize profusely in advance for what's about to happen.

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Chapter 16: Battered & Mangled

Lucy twisted her hands together, feeling vaguely sick with nerves. Silence stretched on between her and Tommy, each of them waiting for the other to speak first.

“I called you,” he said, finally. “Earlier.”

“You did?” Fingers ran through her red hair, tugging on the locks anxiously. “Sorry. I was out with Asher. Did something happen?”

He stood from the chair he was collapsed in, grabbing more kindling to feed into the fire. “Polly resigned.”

That startled her a bit. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” He looked so…lost. Blue eyes staring pointedly out into the dark of the night.

“Was it because of Michael?” she pressed.

“I’m not here to talk about Polly,” Tommy said, voice suddenly stern. She looked down at her feet.

“Right.”

No more avoiding things. They both needed to have their heads clear for the events that were about to unfold. And it had become clear that just attempting to ignore their current situation to deal with later wasn’t going to achieve that.

And…she had promised him that they would talk about things. 

She’d have suggested they go inside, into the living quarters that Charlie had been letting her stay in. But she didn’t really want anyone eavesdropping in on their conversation. 

More silence stretched out between them, long and dark and endless. She jumped when Tommy’s hand touched her cheek, tilting her head up to look at him where he was now standing in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him move. 

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said softly, eyes staring up into his. 

“So come home.”

Her face crumpled. “I can’t.” It was barely more than a whisper.

“Why?”

“You know why, Tom.”

“No; no I don’t think that I do.” His voice was low and soft like honey. Tempting. “So tell me. Please. Help me understand. We can figure something out. If we just sit down and talk about it–”

“Talk about what, Tommy? About what days you and I are allowed to spend the night together? I don’t want to live like that. To be…the dirty little secret that you keep around to fuck you when your wife isn’t available.”

His brow furrowed, almost in confusion. Like the thought had never even occurred to him. “You would never be that. You’re not some whore I keep around for when I get bored, Lucy. And besides, I told you, I fixed that. She’s fine with us being together whenever–”

“You expect me to believe that’ll last? With her pattern of behavior? This is how it’s always worked with her, Tommy. She’s all nice and smiles and sweetness until something sets her off, and then I’m suddenly the big bad monster who’s stealing her husband. What happens the next time she has one of her fits? Hm? When she comes back asking for even more? Now that you’ve given her this, what’s going to stop her from asking for even more restrictions on what you can and can’t do with me? How long before you can’t even touch me at all without it breaking some rule that she’s come up with?”

“I won’t let that happen–”

“Yeah, well you already let this fucking happen,” she snapped back. Tommy’s eyes widened. She drew in a trembling breath, turning away, fighting back every urge to just shout at him. A lump formed in her throat. She forced herself to swallow it down.

“You chose to leave,” Tommy said sternly. “That wasn’t part of Lizzie’s rules. That wasn’t something that I wanted. You decided to do that, Lucy.”

“And I’ve told you over and over again why I had to do that. Lizzie and I can’t live in such close quarters with each other all the time. She can barely even stand to see you touch me, Tommy.”

“That’s her fucking problem.”

“No, it’s not! Not when her reaction to it affects all of us! This,” she gestured widely, “was the only solution.”

“A solution where everyone ends up miserable?”

“Oh, please,” she snapped, voice beginning to rise. “Don’t act like Lizzie isn’t fucking thrilled now that I’m gone and she gets to finally play out the happy fucking family fantasy that she’s always wanted. I’m not blind, I’ve seen how much happier you’ve been lately. Don’t act like it isn’t better now that I’m gone.”

“It’s not. It’s fucking awful there, Lucy. I’m not happier. I don’t know what I did to make you think that I am, but I’m not. I’m so…I’m so fucking lonely without you.” His voice started to rise as well, but he drew in a deep breath when she looked away, eyes focusing on the dark waters of the cut. When he spoke again his voice was softer. “And what about you, eh? Are you happier, now that you’ve moved out?” He took a cautious step towards her. “Michael said that you’re miserable.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything that Michael says.”

“He’s right, though. Isn’t he?” 

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. I don’t want you to be unhappy, love.” Another step, so that he was close enough for her to smell the scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne. Tommy rubbed a hand over his face, looking at her with scrutinizing eyes. “Why did you really leave, Lucy? Because I don’t believe it was just about Lizzie’s rules. There’s something else going on. I can see it in your eyes.” There was a desperation in his gaze that she wasn’t used to seeing. “Just tell me.” She looked away again, hands wringing together frantically. Tommy’s face twitched with frustration. “If I have to live the rest of my life without you then I think that I at least deserve to know why.” She pressed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut tight. It was unclear whether she wanted to cry or shout at him. Tommy seemed to soften a little, reigning in his frustration to gently touch her hand, stilling her relentless fidgeting.

“Please. I know I fucked up. Just…help me understand. If I understand why you left, then I can find some way to fix this…”

“Maybe there is no fixing this,” she said defeatedly with a shrug. The frustration in Tommy’s face returned, face twisting as he struggled to reign in his temper.  

“So…what? You’re just going to give up, is that what’s happening here? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m the only one who’s actually still fighting for us.”

“What?” Her anger was cold in her veins, rushing and bubbling just beneath her skin. Huh. It seemed that Polly had been right. She was angry at him.

“I’m the one who’s been renegotiating with Lizzie. I’m the one trying to find an actual fucking solution to this mess. You keep saying that everything is fine, promising that we will work things out. And yet I’ve been practically begging you to talk to me about this since it happened, and all you’ve done is avoid and ignore me. I’ve been trying, Lucy. Trying to talk to you, to still be with you, and you’ve done nothing but push me away.”

“Don’t you talk about fighting for us when you all but rolled over for Lizzie when she asked you to throw a grenade in the middle of our relationship to make her happy. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Tommy, but we are in the middle of a dangerous conspiracy to assassinate an MP, not to mention plugging up leaks, and dodging all of our other enemies that have been coming at us from every possible angle. So excuse me for trying to put the good of the company and the family over our personal issues.”

“No, don’t you fucking do that! Don’t act like you couldn’t have spared one lunch, one goddamn hour, to talk about this with me!”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Why? So I get to hear again about how you chose her over me?”

Never before had she really considered herself to be a jealous person. But perhaps it was because she hadn’t ever felt like her place in Tommy’s heart was being threatened. He had shared all of his other lovers with her. And she had always known, without a single bit of doubt in her mind, that she was and always would be Tommy’s favorite. That he loved her. Because she was the only one that he let into his head. That he told his darkest, most closely kept secrets to. The only one allowed to actually touch his heart.  

Grace had been different. Because the three of them had all loved each other. Grace had simply become an addition to their pairing. And she had always ensured that Lucy had felt included. Not once did she try to usurp Lucy or steal Tommy away from her. Like Lizzie had. 

Difficult as things had been with Lizzie, Lucy had managed to make peace with the arrangement. At least outside of the relentless guilt she felt every time she so much as looked into Lizzie’s heartbroken eyes. And maybe there was a particularly awful part of her that almost enjoyed the knowledge that while Tommy may spend his nights with Lizzie out of duty, he spent the ones he did with her out of love.

But now that she knew Tommy did not love her anymore, everything had been thrown into disarray. She had begun to wonder if perhaps that was why, despite his previous words about fighting for them, he had not really fought for her at all when he’d struck that new deal with Lizzie. Even if he didn’t love Lizzie, did it really matter? He had still chosen her. To throw Lucy and their relationship into uncertainty all in the name of making Lizzie happy.

She didn’t want to be angry with him, but now that she had cracked open that little box she had stuffed all of her fury towards him in, it seemed incapable of anything other than spilling out. 

“What? No, no, no, that’s not what happened. You know I don’t love her. You know that.” Tommy’s voice was shocked, near panicked in response to her words.

“Then why did you do this to us, Tommy!?”

“I was drunk! Alright!? I was drunk off my ass. I wasn’t thinking. I was trying to get the information out of her of where Linda was for Arthur. And…Lizzie’s useful. I saw an opportunity to keep her around and I took it.” 

She shook her head, pulling away from him, still too angry and hurt. ���Oh, yes. That makes me feel so much better! Good to know that my place in your life is worth trading for a morsel of information.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant.” He reached out to touch her face, but she pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” she spat out bitterly.

He reached out, grasping her cheeks in his hands. “Love, no. I made a mistake. I fucked up, but I was not choosing her over you.”  

“Stop it.” She pulled her face back, leaving his hands grasping at air.

“Stop what?” The genuine confusion in his voice just made her angrier. 

“Stop acting like you care so damn much! You want so badly to know why I left? I left because I couldn’t stand to live in a house where I was clearly so unwanted!” 

Tommy reared back like she had slapped him. “Unwan–Lucy, what are you talking about?”  

“God, Tommy!” she pushed away from him, pacing back and forth across the small space protected from the rain. “You made that deal with Lizzie. Either you knew what it would mean for you and me, or you didn’t even think of me at all.” She wasn’t sure which was worse. “Neither of you even thought to talk to me about it. Do you realize how…how…that feels!? To have your lover strike an arrangement that directly affects you without even including you in the discussion about it at all!? And–on top of all that–with someone who has done nothing but bully you and do everything in her power to make you miserable for years!?” 

“That’s-that’s not fair–” Tommy protested.

“Not fair? Not fair!? I’ll tell you what isn’t fucking fair, Thomas. What’s not fair is that I’m the one person who’s always been there for you and yet I’m the one that gets thrown out like garbage while she gets you for the rest of your lives!” She had to ball her hands up into fists to keep them from shaking. “I am so…fucking angry with you! You make this deal with Lizzie without even thinking of me, then you blindside me about it when we’re about to go into a fucking work meeting. You try to make it better by treating me more like your mistress or your personal whore than your lover–” 

“Now, hang on just a fucking minute–”

“Shut up!” she practically screamed at him. Tommy gaped at her. In all their years together, she had never spoken to him like that.

“You leave me to greet guests at your own fucking dinner party and to deal with Mosley alone while you’re too busy off fucking your wife, and then to top it all off, you replace me at my job with a man who hasn’t even held a rifle in years!” 

“We talked about that! I told you, it’s just for this one job, and that’s it!” Now Tommy was shouting too.

“That isn’t the point, Tommy! I’m replaceable! You’ve proven that with Lizzie, and again with Barney!” Her voice cracked a bit, the tears beginning to well in her eyes faster than she could force them down. The feelings of worthlessness and rejection nearly choked her. Tommy stared at her for a moment, mouth open slightly, brow furrowed, eyes blazing with a combination of hurt and fury.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he said finally. His voice was level, no longer shouting, but she knew him well enough to recognize the wrath and frustration beneath his tone. “Love, I don’t know how else to tell you this, you are not being replaced.” Head shaking, he stalked back and forth before turning to her, finger raised. “You keep talking like you think that this is what I wanted. You think I ever wanted to hurt you? Do you really think that I wanted,” he gestured vaguely, “any of this!?” He must have seen something in her face, because he took a step forward, face twisting with conviction. “You think that I wanted Lizzie to get pregnant!? You think that I wanted to have to marry her? You think that I would have done any of it, if I had known that it would cost me you!?” His voice was loud enough to echo a little in the space around them. Lucy forced herself to not break eye contact with him, even as her body trembled with the sobs she was fighting hard to stifle. “You said…you said that you were okay with it,” he added weakly. “I asked you, before I proposed to Lizzie.”

“I know. I know, I did, Tom. And I was. But that was before…” she trailed off, tears running down her face. Tommy reached out a hand to try to touch her cheek, to wipe them away, but she pulled back, away from him.

“Before what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She looked away, still unable to bring herself to actually say it.  

“Yes, it does.” He waited for her to say more, sighing defeatedly when she didn’t. He was searching her eyes for something. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it, sighing and dropping to sit down in the chair by the fire, head in his hands.

“You promised,” he croaked, after finally raising his face, “when you left that we would still be together. That we weren’t splitting up. But that hasn’t seemed to be true at all, Lucy.”

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, tears still leaking from her eyes. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking. Please. Did you mean it, when you said that? Or were you just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear?” Something frighteningly resigned filtered into those ice blue eyes. He sighed very deeply, gazing out into the rain. “If you really want to leave, I won’t stop you. You know that.”

“You think that I really wanted to leave? I love you, Tommy.” He looked up at her words, eyes suddenly full of hope. “I meant it. When I said that we could still be together. But…”

“But what?” He stood. “But what, Lucy?”

She shook her head, unable to get the words out, her chest spasming with hiccups. Those sobs that she had been keeping at bay finally making themselves known, taking such violent hold over her body that she almost feared that she would collapse with them. Tommy stood, going to her and laying a hand on her arm that she weakly pushed away. 

“Love…love, please. Please,” he tried to reason. “Come home. Don’t worry about anything else. I want you back. I want you with me. Lucy,” he was trying to get in closer to her, to force her to meet his eyes. “Lucy, I love you–”     

“I don’t believe you!” It came out as an agonizing wail, shrill and with enough conviction to shake the entire earth. The words seemed to rip apart her vocal cords on their way out. Her heart shredded in her chest like paper. What little will for life she had remaining blew out like a candle. 

There it was. Bared and out for all to see. The truth. What she had known deep down for a while. Longer than she probably even realized. Because she’d been in denial about all of it. Because she wanted to hold onto him. Because she was a selfish, disgusting, horrid monster who hadn’t wanted to let him go even though she had to. Their relationship was dead. Had started to die slowly and painfully the second Lizzie got pregnant. Whatever love he’d ever had for her was long gone. Buried deep under the ground, never to be felt again. All that was left was residual guilt and a sense of duty towards her. That was all this was. 

And he still knew her well enough to know that the admittance of the death of his love for her would destroy her, so he would not say it. He’d carry on pretending, or at least trying to, for her sake. But she needed to stop being so selfish with him; stop trying to hold onto him for a little longer. She had to set him free.    

Tommy’s entire face changed. All anger and earnestness fell right off of it, eyes widening, jerking back as if she’d slapped him. The color drained out of his face, freckles standing out starkly against his paper-white skin, a look of horror quickly overtaking the frustration that had been there but a moment prior. 

Unable to face the mounting pain in his eyes, she buried her face in her hands. Great, she’d gone and hurt his feelings. But why? Because she’d called him on his bluff? Because he didn’t want to hurt her? At this point, she wished that he would just stop pretending and be honest. He didn’t love her anymore. They couldn’t keep dancing around it forever. 

“Lucy…” he made a sound of physical pain and rushed towards her, saying her name in agony, reaching out to her, trying to hold her. 

“Get away from me!” She braced both hands on his chest and shoved, hard enough to send him staggering back a few steps, eyes wide.

“Love…”

She shook her head furiously, still sobbing, taking a step away from him. “We’re done here.” There was more that they needed to discuss. What was going to happen to her position as his assistant, for one, but she couldn’t. Not now. “We’re done for tonight.” Another step back. “I’m sorry. We can talk more later…”

“No, Lucy, wait–!”

But she stepped back into the downpour surrounding them, and the rush of the rain pelting upon her drowned out his voice. With one final hitching sob, she rounded on her heel and ran, nearly slipping and tripping in the mud, to the door of the living quarters. She burst through it into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her. A hand clapped over her mouth to try to contain her heartbroken cries. 

Tommy did not follow her. That only made her sob more. 

Asher, laying by the door, raised his head, whining and going to nudge at her legs with his nose. 

Absentmindedly, she stroked his nose before staggering to the stairs, trembling fingers closing around the rail to balance herself. She was shivering, both from the chill that the rain had left her with, and the emotions still pumping through her veins. Asher’s nails clicked against the floorboards as he followed behind her. 

Her room was the furthest door down on the left, but that was not where she went. Instead, she made a beeline for the red door at the end of the hall. The one that led into the washroom. 

“No, Ash. Stay out here,” she commanded gently to the dog when he tried to squeeze past her legs to follow her inside. He whined again, watching her with concerned brown eyes, his head tilting to try to keep her in his line of sight as she closed the door. 

Peeling off her drenched coat, she let it fall into a heap of soggy material on the tiled floor. Her skin had erupted into gooseflesh, shaking so badly her teeth rattled in her skull. 

It’s over. It’s done.

I’m all alone again.

Both hands landed on the rim of the sink, barely managing to catch herself as she fell forward with an agonized sob. Her lungs and throat ached from crying, her eyes burning from shedding so many tears.  

There was so much pain inside her, it felt like she was about to burst unless she found some way to release it. 

She needed to get cleaned up. Yes; that’s what she needed to do. Maybe she would feel better after…

Oh, who was she kidding? She would never feel better again. Not after this. 

But she went to the tub on the far end of the washroom anyway, turning the faucet on it and fitting the plug in place.

As the tub filled, she ridded herself of her upper layers until she was only in her undershirt and trousers. Opening up the cabinet, she riffled through it in search of the soap she’d stored there earlier, fingers freezing when they passed over not the soap, but something silver and gleaming. 

“Pick it up,” a low, Irish accented voice said, arms suddenly wrapping around Lucy’s waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “Pick it up, get in the tub, and come away with me.”

Lucy remained frozen, trembling fingers hovering in place. 

No one wants me here anyway. 

It would be what’s best for everyone. 

I won’t be a burden anymore.

They’ll be free of me. 

Each thought came one right after the other rapidly, knocking her down and then striking her with the next before she had a chance to recover. Grace’s eyes gleamed at her from over her shoulder in the mirror. 

No one loves me.

Her fingers closed around the razor. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

I don’t believe you.

He stared at the place where Lucy had been standing just seconds prior, mouth half open, his cries of her name lost in the roar of the wind and the splattering of rain. 

I don’t believe you.

He moved to race after her, to grab her tight in his arms and never, ever let her go again. To tell her over and over that he loved her, until she finally believed him again. 

I don’t believe you.

“Is everything alright, Tommy?” Curly asked, and Tommy paused, head snapping around to find the man standing just at the edge of the covering, barely out of the rain, his hands wringing together. “I heard shouting…”

No. Nothing is alright at all.

“Everything is fine, Curly,” he lied, managing a weak smile. “Everything is fine. Go on back to bed, eh? I’m sorry if we woke you up.”

“I was in the stables.”

Tommy nodded. As was often the case. Curly preferred to sleep with the horses than in a bed. “Well, best get back before they miss you in there, then, eh?”

Curly brightened, smiling and nodding. “Good night, then, Tom.”

“Good night, Curly.” He waited until he’d hurried back to the stables before he doused the fire, making sure there weren’t any lingering sparks or flames, then stepped away, picking his way carefully through the slippery mud towards the building Lucy had disappeared into. 

Swiping off his cap, he shook it out a few times to try to dispel some of the water that had soaked into it. The door into the living quarters opened up into a kitchen, a small sitting room just off to the right, and the stairs that led to the bedrooms in the back. The kitchen was vacant, but there were muddy footprints leading from the door to the stairs.

Tommy glanced around the kitchen, taking a second to gather himself. He would need to be the calm one. The rational one. Lucy was clearly even more upset than he had originally thought. If he wanted to help pull her out of the dark pit of despair she’d fallen into, he would have to keep his head about him. Not let himself get frustrated. 

After all, it wasn’t her fault. He was the jackass who had so thoroughly fucked up that the love of his life didn’t even believe he loved her anymore. 

It had been a while since he’d been in there. The kitchen was minimalistic and tidy as ever, but he noticed little symptoms of Lucy’s presence scattered throughout: the angle at which the kettle was settled on the stove, the tin of cinnamon vanilla tea on the counter, the way that the towels were folded. He smiled a little to himself fondly at the reminders of her presence. 

How could she ever think that he didn’t love her? The very idea of it was absolutely absurd to him.  

He hadn’t much of an actual plan for what he was going to do or say outside of going upstairs. Finding Lucy in her room. Taking her into his arms. Telling her over and over that he loved her. That he was so sorry. That he’d do anything, anything to fix what he had done. 

And then he’d take her to bed, and make love to her until the sun came up, and any doubts that he loved her with every ounce of his being were banished from her mind.

A bark shattered through the air and Tommy jumped, head turning to find Asher standing at the top of the stairs, practically bouncing from foot to foot anxiously.  

“Asher, no,” he frowned. Usually Asher was very good about not barking. Not unless he was alerting them to approaching dangers. Asher barked again, darting away from the stairs to further down the hallway that they led up to, then back to the top of the stairs, staring down at him imploringly. “Asher–oi!” Tommy jumped back in surprise when Asher suddenly darted down the stairs, took a mouthful of his trouser leg in his jaws, and tried to tug him up the stairs with him. “What the hell?” 

Asher yanked, and it was either he took a step forward or let the dog rip his trousers. 

“Asher, mate, I can’t play with you right now…”

Dropping the mouthful of fabric, Asher barked, then whined, darting up the stairs. 

“For fuck’s sake…” Tommy muttered. Now was not the time. Still, he huffed, following the dog up the stairs and down the hall. “What? What is so important?”

Asher came to a stop at the red door at the very far end of the hallway, whining and lifting a paw to scratch at the door. He was panting, tail dropped low. His ears kept twitching, as if trying to listen for something. Tommy’s blood chilled. 

“Asher?” he asked, making his way down the hallway. The dog whined loudly, scratching more insistently at the door. When Tommy got closer, he could see marks already left on the base of the wall and door frame where the dog had been pawing at it. “Move, boy,” he gently nudged the dog out of the way, leaning his head against the door, trying to hear what was on the other side of it as he raised his fist to knock. 

“Lucy?” he called softly. “Love, are you in there?”

No answer. He tried again.

“Lucy? Are you okay?”

Still nothing. Asher whined again, distraught. Tommy swallowed hard, his heart rate spiking in his ears. Fear locked pale hands around his throat. 

“Sweetheart? I’m coming in.” 

When he tried the knob it was to find the door surprisingly unlocked, but that was where his relief ended. 

Later, they would tell him that he screamed. And he supposed that he must have, though he had no recollection of it. 

The pieces of the scene before him were processed only in fragments. As if his mind knew that anything more would cause him to become incapacitated by hysterics. 

The bloody bathwater. The body with her head lolled back against the rim. The soaked clothes sticking to her like a second skin. The hand draped over the edge of the tub, blood dripping from it onto the white tiles. The bloody razor on the floor. The deep cuts slashed into her wrists. 

He was hurling himself towards the bathtub before his mind had fully finished processing what he was seeing, plunging his hands into the lukewarm water. Not caring that it was stained red–red, with her blood–as he scooped her up out of the tub. And she was a dead weight in his arms, and the thought of that word in association with Lucy had his knees buckling, sinking to the floor with her cradled to his chest. 

She was still dressed in her white undershirt and dark trousers. Her head fell back limply against his shoulder, those big brown eyes he’d fallen so deeply in love with closed. Damp hair clung to her forehead, a shade darker red than usual from the moisture. 

“No,” he choked out, hands hovering over her, frantic. “No, no, no, no, no, no…” he found her arms, gripping them tight, examining the blood flowing heavily from her wrists to pool around them. 

Have to stop the bleeding.

Shifting Lucy to lay across his lap, he yanked his tie free from around his neck with shaking hands, wrapping it around one of her arms and pulling it taunt in an improvised tourniquet. 

“Please, please,” he begged. He needed something else for the other arm…

“Tommy, what’s–oh my God,” Charlie gasped, coming to a stop in the doorway. 

Tommy looked up at him, and when he spoke, his voice was shockingly childlike. 

“Help me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance!” Charlie shouted, already racing down the hall. Tommy turned his attention back to Lucy, grabbing onto her shirt sleeves and ripping them apart to set to work fashioning a second tourniquet around the other arm. 

Right. What next? What more could he do to help her? It was taking everything he had to fight back the cycle of memories his brain was attempting to bombard him with: Greta’s hand in his, her final breaths rattling in her lungs while he lingered at her side, unable to do anything. Grace, in his arms, bleeding out while he was helpless to save her.. 

Here’s another one, Tommy. Another woman you loved, dead in your arms. Another one that’s all your fault. 

He shook his head. He needed to find something to make bandages out of for her wrists. Reaching into his pocket, he yanked out his handkerchief, ripping it in two and folding it, using one hand each to press the two pieces of fabric to the deep wounds on her wrists. The fabric was soaked crimson within seconds, and he was suddenly massively aware of the size of the scarlet puddle growing around him. 

He did not really even know if she was still alive. There was no time to check. He was pretty sure he saw her chest rising and falling shallowly, but that could always have been his mind seeing what it wanted to see. 

Despite the makeshift bandages steadily soaking through, he continued to maintain pressure, even as hope slipped away with every passing second. He could taste salt from his tears against his lips, aware that he was sobbing distraughtly, but not caring to do anything about it. 

“Please,” he curled around her, face bent in close to hers. “Please, Lucy, don’t leave me alone. Hang on. Just hang on. I’m sorry.” He started crying even harder. “I’m so, so sorry. I love you. I love you more than anything. Just please, please hang on. Stay with me. Please, please, please, please…”

He was still there, holding her on the floor of the washroom in a pool of her blood, crying and speaking to her softly, when the paramedics came charging through the door.

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[sunshades]

Ok i let the intervallo simmer here's some thoughts:

- it's true this intervallo is comedic and kind of "not that deep" (bear with me a sec) and negative interactions aren't to be taken That seriously like im seeing a lot of people do

- BUT this can also absolutely be a negative thing and i agree theres a lot of bits where it doesnt feel good to read. Sinclair is getting the scaredy little baby writing, Heathcliff is getting the haha delinquent writing, ishmael has this constant "joke about water/ships/whales/whatever"- we kinda know by now the sinners who had their canto already have a noticeable drop in quality (even yi sang whose writing always gets the most care at times falls into a comic relief role)

- at the same time, wondering why the group isn't being That friendly... especially "the sinners are suddenly so mean to heathcliff and treating him like he's stupid" is just. guys. they never stopped. this was how don quixote -the one he's consistently been the kindest towards- was treating him in TKT, barely a couple weeks after canto 6 in universe LOL

- it just... feels disingenuous to say "but they were such good friends in canto 7" when that whole scene came a bit out of the blue? the sinners have never been close friends all the way to canto 7- let's not forget how in MOTWE it was important to see Faust, meursault and ishmael have a couple moments with the other sinners (faust and ishmael with each other, faust with yi sang and dante, meursaut with don and heathcliff) because the whole game they barely had any positive interactions. ishmael for example has shot down gregor's attempts at befriending her a couple times in the past, and never really felt indebted towards heathcliff for worrying about her in canto 5 (or at least that never made her want to be nicer to him)- but those aren't writing mistakes when she herself in LCB checkup even jokes about being kinda awful at making/keeping friends. she's just kinda like that. "im not that nice"

- that being said there are a lot of interactions in the checkup that imply they are actually getting closer. hong lu and sinclair are in good terms, meursault apparently now interacts with the others pretty often, ishmael and yi sang watch over don quixote (pretty significant when u consider one of ish's few interactions with don was calling her delusional in canto 5), ryoshu is interested in don, and i think even ishmael and ryoshu's squabble is interesting considering their last interaction was in canto 4 (where they were getting along even less). the intervallo definitely has some writing pitfalls but i think it's absolutely better if you keep in mind what the text has been telling us in all the chapters that lead up to it, not just counting c7's climax as something so completely defining of everyone's characters.

[shefightslikeagirl]

This was so nice to read the responses - because being a part of this was so incredibly magical. I started touring with Em in 2007 (!) in Germany. I had never been out of the US before and on day one, I met Em and Aprella and the original Captain Vecona (who was a brilliant seamstress and made all the original costumes by hand.)

We would spend an hour or two before every show setting up the stage. It was like setting up for company to arrive in every city we went to and it was very personal. Most of the stage props were handmade by Em and then in later years 2009-2011 we would all spend a week at her place hand making every single prop and stage feature (the original massive handmade clock). Between 2011-2014 we had a printed clock and we had a crew that would set it up but we still handmade our costumes.

I remember in those early shows - one where the batteries on Em’s electric violin went out in the middle of the show - so you could hear her playing but it wasn’t amplified any more. She turned to me and with a kiss whispered “Do something for 10 minutes - I have to run off stage to get this fixed.” And I instantly remembered the first show I saw when I moved to NYC was this punk band called Nation of Ulysses and the lead singer ran out and grabbed the back of my head and started making out with me and then grabbed the guy standing next to me and made out with him. And then launched right into a song. I’ll never forget it - it was done in a fun way and I loved the band so I was in shock that the lead singer just kissed me.

So when the moment came that I had to do something - that quickly popped up in my brain and I made up the Rat Game. It was only supposed to happen one time. But the boards were so active and the plague rats were a family and basically the next night like 20 people showed up with signs that said “pick me, Veronica” or “I want to play the rat game” or “I’ve never been kissed by a girl before” and then Em was like - I think this is a thing now - are you cool with doing that again tonight after my violin solo? And I was like - sure! And we thought it might be just that one extra night but every night - more signs showed up and it became part of the show. I was shocked that it lasted more than one night or one tour but the Plague Rats were so excited about it and we were always listening to what you guys wanted to!

I just remember how like a family we all were and it was so special. The plague rats would make handmade presents for each other and for us. We would see many of the same people night after night and it was so beautiful! It was something truly special. ❤️ Thank you for sharing your memories here and thanks for letting me share mine. I’ve got to post something like this on my Instagram. I have so many old photos that are amazing that no one has ever seen!

—Veronica Varlow on the origin of the Rat Game, Emilie Autumn's Asylum Army of Love FB Group

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Hey, I wanted to ask if you could write a story where Y/N has really bad period pains and the boys take care of their sister and get her things like chocolate, a hot water bottle etc.. In fact, they grant her every wish and do everything she wants, just to make her feel a little better. 🌻

A/N: Hope this is what you were looking for! requests are always open :)))

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

I was curled up in a tight ball on the couch, clutching my stomach as waves of pain crashed through me. The cramps felt like a vise around my lower abdomen, squeezing harder with every passing minute. My body felt heavy, my muscles sore, and I could barely breathe without the sharp pangs of discomfort hitting me, radiating through my back and down my legs. I couldn’t find a position that didn’t make it worse.

It was impossible to escape the feeling of being completely trapped inside my own body, helpless against it. Tears had long since blurred my vision, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Even talking made the cramps worse, and the more I moved, the sharper the pain got. I just wanted to curl up tighter and disappear into the silence of my own misery.

I could hear the door creak open. Dean’s voice filtered through the haze of pain, loud and concerned. “Y/N? You okay?”

I didn’t answer. It was too much.

Dean stepped closer, his footsteps heavy, but it was Sam who crouched down beside me first. His hand gently pressed against my back, and his voice was calm, knowing, as he tried to read me. “Y/N?” he said softly. “Can you hear me?”

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t do anything but try to breathe through the cramps, each one hitting harder than the last. But I could hear Sam’s steady voice beside me, and the warmth of his presence calmed my racing thoughts just a little.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sam murmured, his hand still rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles. “I know it hurts, I know sweetheart”

The pain was so overwhelming that I couldn’t even manage a response. My entire body felt locked in this tight, painful knot that wouldn’t loosen no matter how hard I tried. I just squeezed my eyes shut tighter and let the tears fall freely. The cramps kept hitting, relentlessly, waves of sharp, nauseating pain that didn’t let up.

Sam’s hand stayed steady on my back, and Dean moved around, clearly trying to figure out how to help. “We’re gonna fix this, okay? What do you need, Y/N? What can we get for you?” Dean’s voice was louder, less sure now, but still carrying that protective edge he always had when something was wrong with me.

I managed to lift my hand just slightly, trying to say something, anything, to let them know I wasn’t completely lost.

“Chocolate,” I whispered, my voice shaking from the pain. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing that made sense to me right now. My stomach felt like it was going to tear apart, and chocolate—sweet, comforting chocolate—was about all I could manage to ask for.

Dean was already up and moving, his boots clunking against the floor as he hurried to the kitchen. “Chocolate. Got it. Anything else?”

I winced, another cramp tightening deep inside me, and I nearly curled into an even smaller ball, trying to ride it out. The pressure was almost unbearable, and I could feel my whole body tensing with the effort to deal with it. My breath came in short, quick bursts as I tried to push past it.

“Medicine, heating pad” I finally managed, barely more than a whisper.

“Medicine, heating pad, chocolate,” Sam repeated, his tone soothing, as if he was cataloging everything I needed. “Dean’s on it, Y/N.”

I nodded slightly, still clutching my stomach, tears streaming down my cheeks as the cramps ebbed and flowed. Every wave felt like it might tear me apart, but I did my best to focus on Sam’s words.

“That’s it, breathe,” Sam encouraged, his hand gently moving across my back, pushing away the tension. “In through your nose, nice and slow. The pain will be gone soon, bug.”

It felt impossible, but I tried to follow his lead. Slowly, I began to draw in a breath, the sharp pain easing just a little with each deep, steady inhale.

Dean came back moments later, holding a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a bottle of painkillers in the other. “Here, kid,” he said, kneeling beside me and offering me the mug first. “We didn’t have any chocolate, but I figured some hot chocolate could hold you over for now. You drink this, I’ll get the heating pad on you next and then I’ll head to the store to get your chocolate and anything else you want. ”

Sam helped me sit up a little, holding the mug for me as I carefully sipped, the warmth spreading through me as the chocolate soothed me in ways the pain couldn’t. My body trembled as the cramps continued, but it was almost like I could feel the edges of the pain starting to soften.

“Thanks De,” you whispered.

“Anything for you, kid,” Dean said softly, his voice full of that same protective care that always made me feel safe. “Now here let’s get this heating pad on you.”

Sam helped me adjust so that the heat could settle on my lower back. The relief was immediate, but not enough to completely ease the sharp pains still lancing through my abdomen. Still, it was something. Dean left to run to the store, and as soon as the door closed behind him, you could feel your body slowly start to relax. The waves of pain that had been so intense began to dull, the heat from the pad soothing your aching muscles. Sam’s hand remained steady on your shoulder, grounding you as you breathed through what was left of the cramps.

“That’s better, right?” Sam asked, his voice soft and reassuring.

You nodded, your eyes still closed as you sniffled a little, your cheeks damp from the tears that had come earlier. “Better,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“Good,” Sam said, his tone calm. “We’ll get you feeling back to normal in no time, okay? Just focus on relaxing for now.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift into a light nap, the warmth of the heating pad and Sam’s presence lulling you into a rare moment of peace. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp. You slipped further into nothingness, only waking up when you heard the sound of the door creaking open.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean’s voice was gentle, but familiar, pulling you out of your sleep.

You groggily sat up, rubbing your eyes and stretching a little. “Hey,” you mumbled, still trying to shake off the sleepiness.

Dean grinned, carrying a couple of bags into the room. “I got you a bunch of chocolates, some ice cream, candy, and—” He stopped and made a show of pulling something out of the bag, “your favorite Cheez-Its… buffalo wing flavor.”

Your face lit up at the sight of your favorite snacks, your smile widening as you tried to sit up straighter. “Thank you, De!” you squealed, the joy in your voice enough to make him chuckle.

“You’re welcome, kid,” Dean said, his grin softening as he took in the sight of you. He looked you up and down, eyes lingering for a moment before he added, “How you holding up?”

You paused, taking stock of your body, and noticed the slight ache that lingered in your stomach, much better than the sharp cramps you had earlier. It was a relief, but still uncomfortable.

“I feel better,” you said, flashing him a quick, grateful smile. “Like I can actually sit up now.”

“Yeah, you were out for about forty minutes, bug,” Sam said from beside you, his voice gentle and steady. “The rest was good for you. Your body needed it.”

Dean flopped down on the other side of me, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and flipping through channels. “You want to watch something? Something funny? You just say the word, kid. We’ve got all the snacks in the world now too. Whatever you need.”

I was still exhausted, still sore, but I felt like I could finally relax. Dean made sure to give me some space, but I could still feel his presence right next to me, like a shield.

“I want to watch Mean Girls,” I exclaimed.

Dean smiled, his grin wide and genuine as he slid the remote into my hand. “Mean Girls it is. You got it, kid.”

A few moments later, we were all sitting together on the couch—Dean with his usual bowl of chips, Sam next to me with a bowl of ice cream, and me with cheez its and a chocolate bar. The cramps had subsided enough that I could focus on the movie, and the laughter and lightheartedness of Mean Girls began to fill the room, the comfort of my brothers surrounding me like a blanket.

It wasn’t perfect. The pain hadn’t disappeared completely, but with Sam and Dean looking after me, making sure I was comfortable, the world didn’t feel quite as heavy. The cramps would ease up more soon, and until then, I was exactly where I needed to be—safe, loved, and cared for.

Dean paused the movie halfway through, turning to me with a mischievous smile. “Two scoops of ice cream, huh? You know, I think we’re gonna need more for the next round.”

Sam chuckled softly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “If that’s what it takes to keep her happy, then bring on the ice cream.”

I smiled, my heart lighter now, feeling the warmth of their love surround me. For once, the pain was something I could handle, as long as they were by my side.

[princesscolumbia]

As a writer (and, IMHO, a damn good one if my work on Code of Ethics and my various fanfiction is anything to go by), I cannot emphasize enough that you need to read stuff outside your wheelhouse.

I am a massive nerd for the "complicated" story. Whether that's structurally complicated, a complicated plot, ethically/morally complicated, intellectually challenging, etc., the more complicated it is the more it's catnip to me. I love simple stories, too, don't get me wrong. (Last night I re-read for the umpteenth time All Eyes On Me by catrasredemption on AO3 and was smiling and giggling the whole time at the simple Useless Lesbian story arc where the only thing complicated about it was the question of why Adora adopted a dog named Princess instead of the dog named Swift Wind.) But a book like Big Trouble by Dave Barry where there's about a dozen characters (including a frog) who all seem to have their own, completely separate stories that should never intersect but suddenly all collide in the final chapters and manage to mesh to a degree you wouldn't have thought possible? Or I Me, My Strawberry Eggs where it starts out as a silly "cis het male teacher needs to crossdress to pay rent" but then dives straight into Dead Dove territory where there's ethical and morality issues and oh god you've been rooting for the "bad guy" the whole time and what do you mean this was made to highlight the Japanese 'Electra Complex' epidemic?! Or the high concept world of Trouble with Horns by QuietVallerie that starts out as a fun action-adventure LitRPG romp through the 'hatching' of a transgirl as she figures out who she is and gets to experience life as a woman but then you discover she's living in a cyberpunk dystopia as The Singularity is happening and the 'old guard' of the Patriot Church and the oligarchs are actively working to oppress the masses and the queers have to team up with the newly sentient A.I. to save each other? This is COMPLETELY my jam!

(And, as usual, all the disclaimers about things like Dead Dove fics being something I enjoy doesn't mean I think the ethically bad, or even questionable, things in said fics should happen IRL and in many cases should such things happen IRL that would be extremely bad indeed.)

(In other words, don't build the Torment Nexus. No, PUT THE HAMMER DOWN! The fic "Don't Build the Torment Nexus" is not a set of blueprints for building the Torment Nexus! I don't care how badly you want to fuck the Torment Nexus, don't build it!)

BUT, I have a girlfriend ( @thestargayzingetherian, if you're curious) who writes, for the most part, pure fluff. Just happy little stories that don't have major world or civilization or galaxy-wide consequences, just something cute and silly like someone catching a cold and trying to work through it in spite of their friends telling them not to or accidentally calling the nice older lady that took you under her wing 'mom' and being teased mercilessly for it. She does stretch her writing chops to write bigger stuff, but even the fics that are more sweeping and 'epic' in scope don't have the levels of out-and-out moral and ethical complexity that even my short stories have. And that's not only okay, that's a VERY GOOD THING. A world where every story was dazzlingly complex would create a barrier to entry to people who just cannot handle the challenge for whatever reason.

Just taking a look at the currently published work on my AO3 account:

Code of Ethics - We're living in the prequel right now! In order to get to the world where the MC lives in a Christofascist state and becomes a spook for the bad guys, America has to go through the terrible bits where we, as a people, put into power the horrible, toxic kingmakers that seek to oppress the masses and use the veneer of Christianity to do it (no matter how many time and how many ways people like me try to raise the red flags). Given that's the events we're living through right now, it's understandable that people might not want to turn off their doomscrolling just to read fiction that talks about the long-term consequences of the things they're dealing with IRL.

Half Moon - How do you even begin to talk about the complications of meeting yourself in another universe, let along in a short story where BOTH versions are an AU Gumbo of MULTIPLE properties, all of which you need at least a passing understanding of in order to not be sixteen forms of confused? Star Trek, Ranma 1/2, Sailor Moon, alternate timelines, queer themes, even if you know the character no you don't, and handwavium Treknobabble? Yeah, complicated.

Big Enough - Intentionally written to bury the lead until you've reached the last three paragraphs of the story, and what you discover about the characters and the world they're in completely changes everything you've read to that point. Not an exercise that even I want to have happen every time I read a story.

This Can NOT be An Equestrian Girl's Everyday Life in a World of Monster Girls! - This Too is Yuri, Monsterfucker Edition. Some people just don't want to read about characters in a polycule dealing with polycule things where at least one of them is an illegal alien being manipulated into it by a government agent. Oh, and the monsterfucking.

Anzhuoniichuan - "Oh, the old trope about 'what if Ranma fell into a different spring that waaaaaait a minute who's the alien?!" Just the additional random (and at the point of this post's writing, unexplained) vectors is enough to turn off people who just want to read another Ranmafic before they go to bed.

Double Isekai - Two (2) main characters who are the same character but fused with two other characters and ones the mom to the other and they're both from The Future™️ but not the actual future of that timeline and it's Gay and Yuri and welcome to the Polycule of Disaster Lesbians and Bisexuals. Any more complicated and you'd need a conspiracy board to keep track of it all.

And there's more! Those are just my most recent and I've been writing crazy complicated shit like this since I was 12. (No, you don't get to see that stuff, mostly because it was written on notebook paper and has been lost to history.) My Most Complicated Piece Ever™️isn't even on that list because I finished writing it before I posted all that stuff.

I have a point, I promise.

I have lost count of the times I have been stuck on writing something and had to set it aside for a bit, only to read a fluff fic or a short story or something so completely uncomplicated I figured the entire plot out from just the story description and reading said uncomplicated story was exactly what I needed to un-jam the mental clockwork that produces the stuff I write. I'll get the mental chaff cleared out or read something that inspires exactly the thought I needed to get the next sentence out that happens to be the 'clog cleaner' that gets the words flowing onto the page.

Even besides that, reading outside your normal wheelhouse means you'll get new perspectives, you'll see new ways of solving the problems of writing and new methods for handling the problems that you've already solved yourself. You'll find new jokes to put into your writing and encounter new characters that you'll later integrate into your own work with your own spin or take on that character. You'll encounter scenes that wouldn't ordinarily show up in your work that might be exactly the set piece you need later to put your characters in the right place and time to tie of a particular plot thread or bring everything together (or even, when the time is right, completely shatter everything you've built up to that point and require the characters adapt in ways they never would have had to before).

Get out of your rut and read other people's stuff!

...and if you're the kind of writer that doesn't normally dig into 'complicated' storylines, I might have a few titles to get you started. 😉

[reddevilmcnt]

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I guess I sense them cuz they're usually being standoffish with me. When they start off that way or turn into a cold asshole after they realize I don't have a single submissive bone in my body, that's when I know it's another Dom. Have you seen those nature videos of two apex predators just staring tensely at each other until one finally leaves? It's just like that. 💀 [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Don't worry, I've played wingman before. They won't run from you just cuz I'm there.

He's surprised to read how sorry Ross is that his date didn't work out, though Maksim doesn't really dwell over it. He isn't so annoyed to just become jaded about romantic outcomes; maybe for him it wasn't that serious because he already did have a family, and thanks to his amazing parents, he knew what type of love could exist out there. He was brought up to have a healthy, high self-esteem in that he already knew he was great, and that the right partner would only highlight that greatness. There would be time for other dates and other Omegas to come along and dazzle him (though, one thing that doesn't really make sense is him rejecting easy sex for a night of naked texting alone in bed. He's grateful Ross won't ever become aware of the full details, won't ever be able to call him out on that uncharacteristic shift in behavior.)

What inevitably trips Maksim up is Ross calling him out on something else, his dark twin brows knitting together in response. He delays texting back then, lips pressing into a firm line as a heavier pulse stirs in his cock, subtly shifting the crimson fabric draped inadequately over his groin. He’s grown accustomed to Ross's bold, sexual remarks, but he’s damned lucky they’re not face-to-face right now. The tiny human has no idea about the twisted hedonism brewing in the darkening swirl of his blue irises. Slowly, the pad of his tongue drags along his bottom lip, clearly hungry for something, and only after wrestling his unruly thoughts into submission does he finally reply, his composure carefully pieced back together.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Depends. I'd have to see you wearing it first, yeah? So I know exactly what to think about when I'm fucking them. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Yeah fucking right. You wish.

Whew. That was a close one. Nice fucking save.

He’s not completely insane------- yet. But it’s becoming abundantly more transparent that Ross wouldn’t mind taking him there. Maksim’s starting to suspect this human thinks he can play with him, like some sorta game. He seems to want a reaction out of Maksim, probably hoping to get under his skin the way he might have with one of his stupid fucking exes. But Maksim isn’t about to be wrapped around the finger of some arrogant, annoying human. It's not happening. It's not. Hell, he’d tear open the throat of another subby boy right in front of Ross if that’s what it took to make his point. Sure, it’s a massive risk... one that could entirely dismantle his carefully maintained secret. But clearly, Maksim's not thinking straight, not when his cock is throbbing painfully hard because of who's currently texting him.

Then, a photo rolls in. Something to pull his attention away, if only for the moment.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I think you should wear the smaller one. You want the cock to do most of the stretching, don't you? [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] We're helping each other out. You said you needed it, and I'm kinda goin stir crazy here without something new to bite into. 😈 [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] And there's not much to talk about? It was fun cuz we hiked around one of my favorite waterfalls, but nothing exciting. Just one of those dates where you don't really feel anything. He was a sweet boy just not my sweet boy, ya know? [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I could be too picky, though. You ever feel like that? Like maybe settling down and lowering expectations is the better option?

as the night goes on, ross goes more warm and fuzzy, and as that happens, he starts to feel more loose and uncareful. he says more things that he probably shouldn't say, he offers a few more little brushes of his hand or lets his eyes roam, but the night seems to come to an end before he can think to extend it, and though some part of him wants to offer maksim a sleepover, maybe a tour of his toybox, since the night is still so young, the man is already leaving and he feels like he's choking on the words.

like it's not the right time yet.

he watches the other man leave with mild interest, eyes definitely lingering even after the door is closed, the buzz of the alcohol making him too warm to function any longer in the clothes he'd tossed on, and he ends up stripped naked and laying sideways on his bed, asleep before he can truly think too much about it.

and then life seems to circle back to mundane. time spent in the classroom teaching, time spent out of it preping for more teaching, mind occasionally wandering toward maksim, pulling up their text thread to look at it, starting to type and then quickly deleting it. he wants to ask if maksim has been on the date yet, though the thought of it makes something in his stomach turn at the idea. he isn't interested in this absolute fucking jerk of a man, but...

maybe it's that tentative friendship thing that ross has been trying to convince himself might be there. he wants his possible friend to have good things. he wants him to find happiness or whatever. so he's feeling sick about the idea of some blind date that's probably gonna suck, and maybe he's hoping the person that maksim's going on a date with is also a little ugly, so what? normal possible tentative friend behavior, if you ask ross.

midterms finish up, and the couple of week break is a great chance for ross to try and get his place cleaned up, to catch up on some of the relaxing he barely lets himself do, and it startles him when his phone chimes with a new message, blinking at it for a moment, starting to respond and stopping when he notices the little dots appearing.

so the date had to have gone bad. that was the deal, right? he isn't sure why that makes his stomach swoop the way it does, but it certainly does.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] doms can sniff out other doms, right? i like a big guy, someone who could just hold me up and fuck me without straining too much, you know? that type. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] take it the date didn't go super well, then, since we're planning a night out? i'm sorry to hear it. but i'll keep an eye out. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] you know deep down inside that i have to make that weird, right? are you sure you aren't telling me to wear a pretty little plug so that you know i have it and you can get yourself all revved up to fuck whatever unsuspecting little bottom i find for you?

he's smirking as he sends the messages off, though some part of him is flustered, heart racing, cheeks pink, pants a little tighter. he doesn't want to admit that last part, even to himself, so he ignores it and moves toward his closer to find that stupid see-through top he said he's wear out. he could always say it lost it, but where's the fun in that. then, after a brief moment of what can only be insanity, he's digging through his toybox and pulling out an array of his plugs, laying them out across his mattress and snapping a photo.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] (image attached) [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] which one? if you're gonna offer advice, may as well go all the way. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] i'm partial to the red one, myself, that's the thickest, but how warmed up do you think i should be? are you planning to actually get me laid?

his face is definitely red by the time he's done with that string of messages, and he's moving to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, breathe in and out, and then look at himself in the mirror, try to calm down a little. he feels almost foolish. this is just banter, why's he getting so worked up over it? blowing out another long, slow breath, he picks up his phone again.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] do you wanna talk about the date, btw? was it just not fun? boring? lame?