#debating whether or not to tag everybody

[whitechocolate355]

full court press

part - 4

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd (pazzi)

word count - 4.5k

c/w - language

hey y'all... wanted to make this chapter extra juicy to make up for the heartbreak from last chap and now i can finally push out new chaps for u guys and appear under tags!! hope y'all enjoy the surprise at the end as much as i enjoyed writing it 😈😈😈 (defo more to come!!!)

and as always, anons pls send me oneshot requests (i'm begging atp)

chapter 4: breaking point 

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

Azzi -

Azzi sat cross-legged on her stiff hotel bed. Still damp from the shower, the city lights of Vegas bled through the room's curtains.

She shouldn’t care this much. It was a random day. A random plane ride. A few touches and almost-kisses wrapped in tension and hope. But somehow, Paige had settled in her system like an echo she couldn’t mute. Every time she blinked, it was Paige’s face she saw — proud, beautiful, pissed.

Blinking herself out of her tears, her thumb hovered over her phone, debating whether to phone Nailyssa or not, until finally she hit FaceTime.

The screen rang, sending echoes across her silent hotel room. Then Nailyssa’s face popped up, flushed and grinning, with party lights swirling behind her.

"AZZIIIIIIII!! How you been girl?" Nailyssa screamed over the speaker, which was blasting PND like it was the last day on earth. She stayed laughing as a couple of girls danced behind her, shoving each other playfully. “Dude, we miss you! Wait—hold up—everybody say hi to my girl!”

A chorus of voices filled the screen: Azzi! Miss you! When you coming back? She forced a small, tight smile. She loved her friends back in Virginia, and she had missed them a heck of a lot. But in that moment, all she could muster was a quiet, “Hey, y’all.”

As Nai was about to say something, Matt popped into frame and shouted something Azzi couldn’t hear. Her chest tightened. Seeing her boyfriend had made her suffering worse. Like, way worse.

Nailyssa rolled her eyes, laughing. “Chill, Matt! I’m talking to the wife!”

Nailyssa leaned closer to the screen, squinting. Then her face dropped. “Oh, shit—sorry, Az. You good?”

Azzi’s face had given her away.

She quickly shook her head, tightening the hoodie around her frame like it could hide the crack splitting down her chest.

 “I’m fine,” she said sweetly, her voice steadier than she felt. Seeing Nailyssa in her element, it pained Azzi to force her issues on her. Especially when it shouldn’t be affecting her this much. “Just tired. You’re good, though. Looks fun.”

Nailyssa’s face crumpled a little, but Azzi added quickly, “Really, go have fun. You deserve it.”

“Az—”

“Go, have fun. Love you.” Azzi cut in gently, and ended the call.

The screen went black, and the quiet of the room suddenly felt like a blanket too heavy to move under.

Azzi let the phone slip from her fingers, rolling onto her side with a heavy exhale. Her arms ached for something to hold, someone to pull her out of the knot in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry over a girl who barely even knew her.

A knock at the door startled her. She hesitated, glancing at the time. 10:46.

Azzi sat up fast, wiping her face even though she hadn't cried—yet. She cracked the door open to find Caroline standing there in baggy sweats, hair damp from the shower.

“Hey, just checking on you," Caroline said, her voice soft. "You good?”

She softened immediately under the warmth of Carol's gaze and forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Tired… or tired of Paige?”

Azzi froze, her hand still on the door.

Caroline laughed, misreading the silence. She shouldered into the room, plopping down on Azzi's bed like she owned the place. “C’mon, Az. It’s obvious. She’s trying to get in your head. It’s, like, her whole thing.” Azzi’s heart twisted, but she stayed quiet.

"You’re one of the best players I’ve ever known," Caroline said, voice turning serious. "So tomorrow? I want you to walk in there with that signature Azzi charm. Make sure to bring that pretty little jump shot of yours. Show Paige who’s actually running the court."

Azzi nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. The words made her eyes sting. She didn’t deserve that kind of faith tonight. Not when she’d been unraveling for hours over a girl who looked at her like she'd ripped out her heart.

But Caroline's words grounded her, forced her to remember why she came. This wasn’t about Paige. Or whatever lived and died between them.

This was about the team. The dream. Her future.

She exhaled slowly, feeling something tighten back into place. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Azzi smiled, for real this time. “You’re right.”

Caroline grinned, already kicking her feet up like the conversation was settled. “Damn right I’m right. Now go to sleep, hooper. Big day tomorrow.”

Azzi nodded, tugging the covers up and sliding into bed. She stared at the ceiling long after Caroline slipped out, a fierce determination hardening in her chest.

Tomorrow, she’d show up for herself. And if Paige wanted war on the court?

Then fine. She’d bring the fire.

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

Paige -

Paige sat in her bed, her head softly thudding against the headboard when her alarm rang. 6:00. 

She hadn’t even realised she had stayed up the whole night, ruminating over the ‘people’s princess’ of basketball. 

Shocked she hadn’t seen Azzi on the internet before, she had taken the liberty to check Instagram. And when she was met with no profile photo and posts, she resorted to scrolling endlessly through Azzi’s tagged posts, mouth agape. 

Damn. Paige thought as she scrolled through Nailyssa’s posts, seeing photos of Azzi at a party dressed in a tight tube top and a miniskirt that hugged her waist and ass in just the right places.

Realising what she was doing, she threw her phone across the bed and screamed into her pillow. What was she thinking?

Picking herself up, Paige threw on her #5 jersey, grabbing her backpack before rushing out to the gym. Even though every inch of her wanted to destroy her in practice, she desperately wanted to see the face she had been thinking about all night.  

.

.

.

The gym doors gave a hollow squeak as Paige stepped inside. For a second, it looked empty. She inhaled deeply, shoulders relaxing. Good. She had time. Time to cool her head. Time to run drills. Time to not think about the way Azzi’s skirt clung to her hips in that tagged photo.

But then, the sound of dribbling. 

Paige’s head tilted. Again—

Dribble. One-two. Rise, then swoosh.

She followed the sound and squinted. There, at the far end of the court — already drenched in sweat and rhythm — was Azzi.

6:20? Paige blinked at the wall clock. Warm-ups didn’t start until 7:15. She grunted, half in annoyance, half in awe. She turned dramatically, and made her way to the opposite end of the court. Dropping her duffel with a thud, she turned her back to Azzi like a petty act of self-preservation. If she couldn’t see her, maybe her brain would finally shut up.

She started her free throws, slipping her headphones on, but it didn’t help.

The sound of the ball landing in the hoop had become a constant, as if replaying the same song over and over again. 

A tempo. Clean. No backboard. Barely a rattle. Just net.

Paige turned, unable to help herself.

Azzi was a vision — legs planted firm, elbow tucked, each release identical to the last. Her hair was pinned up, but a few curls had escaped and stuck to her jaw. Her form was perfect. Paige swallowed.

No wonder they called her the Steph Curry prodigy. From Paige’s tireless hours of doom scrolling across Azzi’s feed, she had been surprised at how many accomplishments the girl had. Named National Gatorade high school player of the year, winning countless Steph Curry shoot-out competitions. She knew now. Azzi was that girl.

And as if sensing the stare — Azzi turned.

Their eyes locked.

Caught off guard that Azzi had caught her staring, Paige hurried her mind to come up with a snarky remark to shake Azzi’s confidence —and maybe enjoy the flirting again — until she realised Azzi was staring straight into her eyes. 

But this time, it wasn’t the same soft-eyed gaze from the plane. Not the warm curiosity from across the aisle, or the flirtatious look when Paige had caught up to her at the airport. This was steel. A dare. A challenge.

Azzi’s hands moved like muscle memory. Her eyes staying on Paige's as she shot another 3 pointer, with a straight trajectory —swish.

As soon as the ball left Azzi’s hands, she fully turned to Paige, then winked. And without much effort, the ball hit nothing but net.

God, she was so fucking annoying.

Azzi turned back to the rack like nothing happened, grabbing another ball, cool and unbothered. Paige stood frozen, lips parted, heart punching through her chest like it wanted to launch itself across the court.

She couldn’t tell what pissed her off more — the fact that Azzi had stared her down and made that shot like it was nothing, or the fact that Paige was so pathetically, painfully into it.

She was half a second from storming across the court and kissing her senseless—

Until a bunch of other girls walked into the gym, their sneakers squeaking the court, causing Paige to retract from Azzi (who had made it to half court) and continue her shooting drills in silence.

“Morning, queens!” KK burst in, the sound of Sexxyred blaring through her JBL speakers. Sarah and Nika were trailing behind her, fixing their shoes and stretching out their hamstrings.

Azzi jogged casually to half-court, towel slung over her shoulder like nothing had happened back there. Paige cursed under her breath and forced herself back into motion, returning to her shooting drills with mechanical precision.

“Yo Az…!!!” KK grinned. “We've been meaning to ask… what was it like to learn from the Steph Curry?”

Sarah came up from behind KK. “It’s giving MVP energy. You cooked yesterday.”

“I can tell he didn’t skip cardio with you,” Nika added, shaking her head. “Are you even tired?”

Azzi chuckled softly, then turned her head — slowly, but deliberately — to Paige.

Her voice carried, loud enough to echo across the stadium. “Felt like barely anything.”

Paige froze.

Azzi tilted her head a notch, eyes glinting.

“Paige looks pretty tired though,” Azzi continued, as if talking to herself, but not really. “Last night wear you out, Paigey?”

Paige scoffed, dribbling the ball between her legs as an attempt to stay calm.

"Don't be shy, I can see those dark circles under your eyes" Azzi continued to tease.

Damn her for stalking Azzi last night.

Collecting herself, Paige huffed before directing her attention in Azzi's way. “Hey princess” she replied, plastering on a falsely confident grin. “Maybe you should worry less about my stamina and more about your spot on the roster.”

A few oohs from the girls echoed, slapping each other playfully as they entertained themselves with this newfound rivalry, but Azzi didn’t flinch.

Instead, she smirked, like Paige’s fire was kindling her own.

And maybe it was.

Because whatever the hell this was — the tension, flirtation, full-blown basketball warfare — it was only just getting started.

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

Azzi -

As more players trickled in to warm up, Azzi stood to the side of the court, running occasional plays with Carol. She was locked in. Unlike the fan-girling, soft Azzi she had been yesterday, she was not going to go easy on Paige anymore. Screw the tingling she had to swallow every time Paige looked her way. Screw the stolen glances when Paige wasn’t watching, and the sharp twist in her gut when she caught that flicker of betrayal on Paige’s face. She wasn’t in Vegas for this — not for hookups, not to gamble away her feelings. And definitely not to fall for some girl she’d met days ago… only to let her win because her damn heart went soft.

No, she was here to play ball. The same game she had been playing since she was a toddler. The same game that comforted her despite whatever was going on in her life. The same game she was so darn good at.

So as the girls finished up their warm ups, and huddled up into teams as instructed, Azzi knew she was going to make the most of it. The group had only 30 girls now, meaning 18 of them were to be cut. And realising Paige was staring across from her, on the opposite team, a smirk appeared on her face. Azzi was going to give what Paige had so desperately wanted: a fucking war. 

Coach blew the whistle sharp through the gym, signaling tip-off.

Everyone shuffled into position. The sound of sneakers squeaking across the hardwood echoed beneath the bright overhead lights. Azzi stepped into the centre circle, eyes locked dead ahead. And there she was — Paige.

She stepped up across from her, confidence painted all over her face like she hadn’t spent the night spiralling into Instagram Azzi rabbit holes. But Azzi saw the stiffness in her shoulders. The split-second delay before she adjusted her stance. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Ready?” the ref asked, holding the ball between them.

Paige didn’t answer. She just tilted her head slightly and offered Azzi a slow, smug smile.

Azzi didn’t flinch.

She bent her knees, eyes sharp and still. It didn’t matter that Paige looked like every internet’s blonde dream or that Azzi had once admired that smirk.

Today, that smirk was the target.

The whistle blew, and the ball soared into the air.

Azzi exploded upward.

They both did.

Arms outstretched, hands fighting for inches. But Azzi’s timing was perfect. Her fingertips reached the ball first, swatting it clean to Carol who caught it and took off down the lane.

Game on.

Azzi landed lightly and already sprinted downcourt, her movements automatic. Paige trailed her, right on her heels, but something in her expression had shifted — the games, the snark, the seduction — they were gone now.

This wasn’t for show anymore.

Azzi hit the wing, caught Carol’s pass, and — with one fluid motion — pivoted, stepped back, and released.

Swish.

No backboard. No hesitation.

Paige’s jaw tensed.

As she jogged backward on defense, Azzi didn’t look her way. Not even once.

Because this time? She wasn’t playing with Paige.

She was playing against her.

And she was just getting started.

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

Paige -

Paige felt the sting of Azzi’s jumper like it hit her, not the net.

She gritted her teeth and turned, jogging back into position, fists clenched at her sides. Okay. Cool. So we’re doing this now.

She’d walked into the gym hoping for a look, maybe a smile, maybe a breathless hey. Instead, she got a highlight reel — and a front-row seat to her own humiliation.

And the worst part?

She was into it.

Azzi was faster than yesterday. Sharper. Her handles were tighter, her cuts cleaner. It wasn’t just that she was showing off — no, this wasn’t about show. This was personal. Every move screamed I’m over it. I don’t care anymore. Every shot felt like a slap across Paige’s ego. Across her chest.

She was punishing her.

And it was working.

Paige’s team brought the ball up the court. She waved off a screen, opting to go iso — and she knew exactly who she wanted.

Azzi switched onto her without hesitation.

For a beat, neither of them moved.

Just two girls, five feet apart, pretending this was still about basketball.

Then Paige made her move. Hard crossover to the left. Azzi bit — barely — but recovered quick. Paige spun back to the right, rose up for a jumper.

Azzi’s hand was right there.

Paige released anyway — forced it — and it clanged off the rim.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath, turning on her heel as Azzi snagged the rebound like she’d known it was coming.

Of course she had.

The game went on like that. Paige trying to find a rhythm, to remind herself that she was Paige Fucking Bueckers — but Azzi was everywhere. Gliding. Shooting. Locking in on defense. Like she’d been designed for moments like this.

And Paige?

She couldn’t stop watching her.

Every shot Azzi sank tightened the knot in Paige’s stomach. Every time Azzi laughed with Carol or bumped fists with KK, Paige felt like she was watching someone she used to know — someone who’d shared a red-eye flight, and empty feelings and a moment that had felt stupidly, ridiculously real.

But maybe she’d imagined that.

Maybe the smirk, the foot nudges, the almost-kisses — maybe it had all been games to Azzi.

And that’s what pissed her off the most.

Midway through the scrimmage, Paige finally managed to drive past Azzi, finishing with a slick underhand layup that rolled off her fingers and kissed the glass.

“And one,” she muttered to herself, turning just in time to meet Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t care.

She just jogged away, lifting her shirt ever so slightly to wipe her forehead, hands already calling for the ball again.

And Paige — panting, hands on her knees — realised with a jolt of panic:

She wants to beat me.

Not flirt. Not test the waters. Not even hate me.

She just wants to win.

Azzi caught a pass at the top of the arc. Paige stepped out on her, squared her shoulders. Azzi jabbed once, twice, pulled back, then — like it was nothing — rose into a three-pointer.

Paige got a hand up. Too late.

Swish.

Azzi landed softly, eyes on Paige as she backpedaled.

And this time?

No smirk.

No wink.

Just that same, steady look — direct, ice-cold, dangerous.

Paige swallowed hard.

It should’ve made her angry.

But all it did was make her want her more.

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

Azzi -

Azzi was in the zone.

She had just sunk her third three-pointer in a row, and the rush of it filled her chest like rocket fuel. Every swish added a new brick to the wall she was building — one that kept Paige out. One that reminded her she didn’t need anyone, especially not some smug blonde who played with people’s feelings like it was just another game.

But even through the armour, Azzi could feel Paige’s eyes.

She always could.

There was something magnetic about the way Paige watched her — intense, hungry, impossible to ignore. And even now, even with all her fire pointed squarely at her, Azzi felt it. The heat of it. The weight.

Still, she didn’t let it shake her.

Not until she heard it.

A sickening thud. Then a gasp. Then a pause — that split-second silence only athletes recognise, the one that means something’s wrong.

Azzi turned on instinct.

Paige was on the floor.

Her body crumpled awkwardly, one leg twisted beneath her, clutching her ankle like it had betrayed her. The ball bounced away, aimless.

“Shit—Paige?”

Azzi’s feet moved before her brain did, sprinting across the court and dropping to her knees beside her before anyone else could. 

The smugness, the war, the flirty standoff — gone. All Azzi could see was the way Paige’s face twisted, her jaw clenched tight against the pain, trying not to cry. Trying not to look vulnerable.

Azzi’s heart did something violent.

“Don’t touch it,” Paige muttered, her voice breathless and sharp as the coach knelt beside them, shouting for a trainer.

Azzi froze. Her hand was already halfway to Paige’s wrist.

“I wasn’t going to,” she lied, softly.

Paige wouldn’t look at her. Not directly.

But her knuckles were white around her ankle, and her breathing was shallow, and Azzi could see it now — the fear.

Not just of the injury. But of what it might mean.

Missing the team. Missing the tournament. Falling short of something she'd wrapped her whole identity around.

Azzi knew that fear. More than she was willing to admit.

And still, she said nothing.

Because part of her — the part that had been burning since yesterday — whispered: This is what happens when you let people in.

Azzi rose slowly as the trainer arrived with an ice pack and a stretcher. She stepped back into the crowd of girls watching, all of them murmuring in soft concern. Her chest felt tight. Unsteady. Like something had just split open inside her.

And when Paige was finally helped off the court, limping, one arm thrown around a staff member’s shoulder for balance, Azzi didn’t follow.

She just watched.

And hated how much she cared.

.

.

.

The locker room was unusually quiet.

No laughter. No banter. Just the low hum of the air vents and the muffled thud of someone tossing their sneakers into a cubby.

Azzi sat on the bench, untying her shoes slowly, her fingers twitching from leftover adrenaline. Her back was to Paige, but she didn’t have to turn to know she was there — she could feel the heat of her frustration radiating from across the room.

Paige was leaning against her locker, ankle wrapped tightly in a compression bandage, jaw locked so hard Azzi thought it might snap.

The trainers had told her it probably wasn’t serious. Just a rolled ankle. A few days, maybe. But that word — probably — was like a blade to someone like Paige. Someone who lived in absolutes. Who needed certainty the way other people needed oxygen.

Azzi looked over at the blonde, hurting and furious. The locker room was long empty now, with all the girls whispering “You’ll get better” and false promises to Paige as they left. But Azzi stayed, sitting next to Paige. No words exchanged, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the room. 

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

Paige -

Paige couldn’t think.

The trainer's words kept running around in her skull — “We’ll need to monitor the swelling. Give it a few days. Could just be a sprain.” Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Paige didn’t do maybe.

She did win or lose. In or out. Break or bounce. No limbo, no waiting, no grey area.

So she did the only thing that made sense in that moment — she slammed her fist into the locker.

The sharp clang slicing through the silence like a gunshot. Pain shot up her knuckles. But it was dull compared to the pressure building in her chest. Her eyes were glassy, but no tears fell. So, she just stood there, chest rising and falling, caged in by the weight of her own pride and panic.

She was furious. At her ankle. At the trainers. At this stupid scrimmage.

And at Azzi.

Azzi who had walked onto the court like she owned it. Azzi who didn’t just beat her — she undressed her in front of everyone with that goddamn jumper. Azzi who didn’t look at her the way she had on the plane anymore. No softness. Just fire. Just vengeance. And it was killing Paige — because somewhere between that hunger and that hurt, Paige had wanted her even more.

She turned her head, and there she was. Sitting quietly on the bench, unbothered. Almost glowing. Paige’s jaw clenched tighter.

Her hands moved before her mind did.

And before she knew it — she was right in front of Azzi, breath hitching in surprise as Paige grabbed her by the waist and shoved her against the locker.

The cold metal met Azzi’s back, but she didn’t flinch.

Paige didn’t even blink. She just leaned in — mouth crashing into hers like a wave she’d been holding back for days.

The kiss was hard. Messy. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hip like she needed something to anchor her, to keep her from drowning in it. She kissed her like she wanted to erase the past three days. The stares. The taunts. The way Azzi’s jumper made her knees weak. The way she hated her, and wanted her, and couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when Azzi touched her hand on the plane. 

Azzi kissed her back — at first. Briefly. Just long enough for Paige to feel the heat surge up her spine. But something about it scared her.

Because it wasn’t just chemistry.

It was something real.

So, just as quickly as it began, Paige pulled back.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes wide now, flooded with panic.

Breathless. Shaken. Her heart was pounding loud enough to echo through the whole locker room.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her voice cracking more than she wanted it to. “That was— I didn’t mean— I’ll go.”

“No, wait—”

Azzi reached for her wrist. Not harsh. Not needy. Just firm enough to say: don’t run from me again.

And this time — Azzi leaned in. Her lips brushing against Paige’s like they had all the time in the world.

Her kiss wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t angry. Instead, it was warm. Intentional. Like she had decided a long time ago that if this ever happened — really happened — it would be on her terms.

Paige’s breath caught again, but she didn’t pull away.

Not this time. As their heartbeats began to synchronise with each other, Paige’s eyes flicked down to Azzi’s lips, parted just slightly, her breath shallow. Tentative. Wanting.

Paige leaned in — slower this time — and skimmed her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip, barely touching, just enough to ask a question without words. Can I?

Azzi didn’t move — not away.

Instead, she tilted her head back ever so slightly, a soft, whispered “mhm” ghosting past Paige’s mouth like a secret.

That was all she needed.

Paige deepened the kiss, her hands sliding from Azzi’s waist up to her ribs, thumbs grazing beneath the hem of her practice tee. Azzi inhaled sharply, her body instinctively arching toward her. Needing more. Needing to be closer.

Azzi’s legs shifted as she leaned back, propping herself against the locker behind her. Her head tilted up to meet Paige’s again, mouth parted, inviting. Her posture screamed confidence, like she wasn’t just letting this happen — she was in it.

And Paige — breath caught in her throat — leaned closer, her leg propped between her thighs, the fit of it too perfect, too magnetic. Her knee brushed against Azzi’s thigh and Azzi exhaled something between a gasp and a curse.

Their mouths crashed again, this time with a heat that had been building since the moment they locked eyes at tip-off.

It was passionate — yes — but not messy like before. It was more desperate now, but more certain, too. The kind of kiss that said I’ve wanted this. I’ve tried not to. I can’t anymore.

Azzi’s hands reached up, fingers slipping into the waistband of Paige’s jersey at the sides, pulling her closer. Paige groaned low into her mouth, the tension in her shoulders finally starting to melt.

She rolled her hips slightly forward, enough to close the last inch of space between them, and Azzi’s thighs tightened reflexively around her. The bench creaked under the shift, but neither of them noticed.

The only thing that existed in that locker room — under the dim fluorescent lights and the echo of distant voices outside — was the feel of each other.

The way Azzi tasted like sweat and adrenaline and something addicting. The way Paige kissed like she was still playing to win. The way they both knew this was messy and dangerous and real.

Azzi finally broke the kiss with a soft pant, her head falling back against the locker with a soft thud. She looked up at Paige, lips swollen, eyes hazy, voice low. Paige let her forehead fall against Azzi’s, both of them breathing heavily, hearts still slamming inside their chests as Paige’s hand still rested lightly on Azzi’s hip like it had never left.

“You gonna walk out on me again?”

Paige’s breath caught in her chest, and she almost laughed — from disbelief, from how good Azzi’s mouth still felt on hers, from the way this whole day had flipped on its head.

But all she said, hoarse and barely audible, was:

“Not unless you tell me to.”

And just like that, everything changed.

For Paige, this was scarier than any injury. Scarier than losing.

But it also felt more like winning than anything she’d ever known.

[bunslora]

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ academic rival.ᐟcait x reader hcs

summary: academic rival x caitlyn kiramman headcannons

tags: suggestive , slight nsfw , men dni .

wc: 452

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you've known since you were young; the both of you coming from elite houses—the rivalry between the two of you stemming from the prestigious shooting competitions in which the two of you competed against one another in.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who is the number one rule abiding student; the most obnoxiously pristine uniform—never seen without her blazer and tie done up, while paired with the school appropriate socks. literally always doing the absolute most.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who always has something to say; whether its critiquing your uniform choices or scrutinizing your etiquette, she will never skip out on an opportunity to shit on your day whenever she can.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you once bitch slapped after she claimed that "your house was not significant enough for a seat on the council" all for the entirety of your sophomore biology class to witness.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who took the rivalry to an entirely new wavelength during your senior year upon discovering that you both aimed to study the same major once high school was over. competing for summer internships, unnecessary debates during class, fighting to see who could achieve acceptance to the most awfully pretentious university on early entry—it was unhinged.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who genuinely lost her mind when she saw you in that lecture hall during the beginning of your first semester at university.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who has little to no friends due to her "entitlement" or the fact that she believes shes "better than everybody else because shes a councilors daughter." at least that is what your peers say. in all reality shes just really socially awkward.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you thought the same about—until your second semester when your professor paired the both of you together for a research proposal.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you unwillingly received texts like this from—while working on said proposal:

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you realised had depth to her when she confessed to you, that she had no plans to follow her mothers legacy by taking her houses council seat. instead—studying to become a civil rights lawyer, while working on your research proposal.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you got significantly closer to after the shared realisation that, perhaps, things between the two of you could've been different if not for the both of your parents unwavering academic pressure—which had ultimately pitted you against one another throughout your adolescence.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you would meet to study, occasionally drink and engage in some well-placed shit talking with every friday evening. a tradition that felt oddly easy with someone who was usually so incompetent when complying with.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who you subsequently hooked up with during one of these friday nights. (which was never mentioned between the two of you again).

⊹ ࣪ ˖ academic rival .ᐟ cait who never dared to discuss said hookup until some time later, when it happened a second time..

inbox ⤿ open

a/n: I'm so sorry this took so long i've been flooded with assignments!!

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[my-hyperfixation-stories]

Pain of Caring too Much

Summary: Dean will do anything to save the people he loves from death. He’s proved that time and time again as he puts his own life on the line for his brother, he never imagined that one day he’d have to do the same for you.

Warnings: character death, heavy angst, mentions of drugs(neither reader nor Sam or Dean involved), dead victims, violence and death, strong language used. Happy Ending.. sorta?

A grin finds Dean’s face as the slice of pie slides into his view. He quickly pushed away the paper he was reading and prepared to stuff his face. The second he went to take a bite, your hand covered the appetizing treat. “Ah ah ah.. Pie means I get to tag along on the hunt..” His eyes narrowed as they look up to meet yours. Quickly he picks up the pie and walks away from you while devouring the dessert in front of him.

“No, not this one, this thing has killed too many people, it’s too dangerous. You’re sitting this one out.” His words make you groan in frustration. “When have we ever deemed something ‘too dangerous’? Hell I’ve killed hundreds of ‘dangerous’ creatures over the years Dean.” You try reasoning with him but the words go in one ear and out the other.

He tosses the pie trash into the motel garbage before collecting his things and tossing them onto the bed. “You let me go to those, why not this hunt?” You pester him for more of an explanation but he goes silent. When you glare at him he finally huffs out a quick answer. “I have a weird feeling about this one.”

Your eyebrows shoot up before another scoff leaves your lips. “So what? You’re a psychic now? I thought that was Sam Winchesters whole deal.” Sam’s eyes look between the two of you staying quiet as you argue. “I don’t want you getting yourself hurt trying to keep up with us.” An offended look takes over your face as Sam looks a bit taken aback by Dean’s statement.

Dean stuffs random articles of clothing into his duffle bag not caring how disorganized it is. He was more focused on tuning out your words. “I know how to handle myself Dean.” His eyes roll only fueling your rant. “I have been a hunter for as long as I can remember, you don’t have to bench me because you don’t want me getting hurt.” Dean sighs, halting his movements.

He turns on his heels to face your direction. “No. I know you can handle yourself. The problem is that you’re too damn stubborn. I can’t trust you not to get yourself killed trying to protect someone.” You scoff at his words and snatch his bag from him. This pissed off Dean beyond extent, however his angry words were cut short. “I can’t deal with you dying because you’re trying to play the hero, I can’t.”

“You don’t get to decide how I live my life Dean.. I can decide whether or not I take a case. I’m not some kid you have to protect. I’m a grown woman with my own capabilities, and I’m not letting either of you die! I choose what I do with my life and if that means protecting you and Sam.. then I’d rather be dead than find out one of you died because I wasn’t there to help.” Your eyes locked onto Dean’s. He was debating whether to fight back or reason with you.

His eyes flicker through various emotions, trying to find a comeback before retreating. “Fine. You can go. But I call the shots, if it gets too bad we pull back. If I give the signal, everybody stops everything. I’d rather everyone in this room have a pulse by the end of the night.” Before anyone has the chance to respond, Dean is storming out of the room mumbling incoherent nonsense.

“Your brother gets on my nerves Samuel.” You huff as you fall back onto the motel chair. Everything in your body melts to the chair trying to seek comfort in it. “Mhm.. Well you know he only does it because he cares.” Sam’s words make you let out a long sigh. Your fingers rub deep circles against your temple. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss me off.” Sam chuckles at your slumped figure. His eyes stay on you before shifting to his hands. “He knows you’re good. Hell he thinks you’re one of the best hunters we know.. He just doesn’t want anyone else dying on him.. He lives to protect, he’s been doing it since mom died.” You look over to Sam who seemed to drift into his thoughts.

Your posture shifts so your body faces his. “Well I guess that makes three of us. We all protect each other.” Sam’s eyes move back to yours having a feeling you weren’t done talking. “That’s exactly why I’m not staying behind. Gotta make sure you two boys don’t get yourselves killed while I’m not there to save your asses.” You send a smile over to Sam who returns the look.

“I care about Dean.. I really do. More than you’d think.. just… sometimes I think he views me as someone who he has to watch over, that if he takes his eyes off of me I’ll mess up.. but I see where he’s coming from.” You add making Sam go quiet, he fully takes in all of your words before responding.

“Dean cares for you more than he can admit. Hell he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon.. Part of him is scared that he’s going to be the reason you get killed. I don’t think he thinks of it as making sure you don’t mess up, more so making sure he can protect you when you need it.” Sam explains making a smile tug at the corner of your lips. You knew his words were truthful. Thinking of Dean trying to protect you, putting everything into making sure you’re okay has your heart beating.. but part of you feels the slight ache in your chest.

“I love him..” The room goes quiet for a moment as Sam’s breathing slightly falters. Caught off guard by the sudden confession. “I think that’s what pisses me off the most.. knowing he acts this way but doesn’t do anything. Trying to hide emotions and not just allowing himself to feel something real, like he’s..” Your voice trails off. Struggling to find the correct words. “Like he’s hiding something?” Sam asks making you shake your head. “No.. like he’s not worthy of having emotions.” Sam gives you a knowing look. One full of understanding.

As he goes to add in suddenly the door comes flying open. “Sammy make sure all your shit is packed up, we’re leaving in ten.” Dean states quickly bringing his little brother to his feet and throwing his bags over his shoulders. The moment Sam walks out Deans eyes find yours.

“I didn’t.. I wasn’t.. I’m not calling you a bad hunter. I don’t want you or Sammy dying on me. Having less people on hunts reduces the risks.” He explains whilst awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “I know.. I’m just glad you said something before the drive or I definitely would’ve been purposely trying to piss you off.” A smile reaches his lips before waving you off. “Go get in the damn car before I really do leave you behind.” A laugh leaves your lips before you’re headed out to the impala. “You never thanked me for the pie!” You call out making his eyes roll. “Letting you come is good enough!”

None of you had any idea of what you were dealing with. Whatever it was, the death toll it was racking up was becoming an issue. The kills mimicked that of a werewolf but the bites resembled vampire fangs. It confused the hell out of each of you, hell even Bobby couldn’t make sense of it. The call you two had earlier ended in nothing but ‘I’m sorries’ and ‘I’ll do my best to find more’.

Dean sat on the motel bed, reading through old journals, while you sat alongside Sammy to scout out online websites for any sort of clues. “Claws like a werewolf, kills like a werewolf, but fang patterns of a vampire.. what the hell are we dealing with..” Sam repeated everything they knew, which was quite frankly very little. His hand ran through his hair as he blinked frantically at the screen in-front of him.

“It could just be a werewolf with an irregular fang pattern.” Sam says only to earn a doubtful look from you. “Nothing about it makes sense. Nothing sources claim to have found anything similar to this.” He moves closer to the screen trying to read closer up.

You notice the way his eyes keep backtracking not able to fully process the words in-front of him. Quietly you slide the computer away from him making him look up confused. “How about you go grab us some food? You look like you need a break from screens and words.” He tried to protest but the look you shot him told him it’d be better just to listen.

“Right.. I think I saw a burger joint a block or so over.” He says as he rises to his feet. Dean tosses him the keys as his eyes stay on the journal. You look up at Sam and give him a smile. “Get me anything that looks good, and get Dean something greasy.” He gives you a small nod before grabbing his jacket and heading out of the room.

Your attention falls back onto the screen trying to dig up any kind of information. The headache that was lurking in the back of your head was sure to make its presence loud and clear later on. Images of mutilated bodies scroll past your screen. All mimicking those of either werewolf attacks or vampire bites, none of which correlated to your victims.

After ten or so minutes the atmosphere shifts behind you before Dean clears his throat. He walks up behind your chair before peering over your shoulder. “Found anything?” He questions making you shake your head. “Nothing at all.. just images of common vamp attacks or werewolves..” Both of you go silent as you scroll through everything. “What about you? Anything in your dad’s old journals?” You glance up at him but only see the shake of his head. His breath lightly grazes your shoulder as the two of you stare at the screen.

Just when you go to speak another image pops up creating bile in the back of your throat. A sound of disgust escapes your lips as the image burns into your eyes. You quickly close the laptop. The image engraved itself into your mind. The way bugs made their home inside of the victims body.. the little boy. The image was close and didn’t leave much to the imagination on how he died. “Damn.. remind me never to have kids.. this shit is awful..”

When you open your eyes you see Dean’s furrowed brows. “What? It was disgusting.. you’d think I’d be desensitized by this point..” He’s quick to shake his head at your words. “No not that.. kids? You had planned on having kids?” He asks making your heart hurt a little. Yes, at some point you dreamed of having kids, but then you’d wake up and be met with the harsh reality of the world. “No.. I mean.. in different circumstances I’d love to settle down with a family of my own.. a man who’d treat me good..” Yours eyes trail Deans figure before looking away. “but never in this lifetime. Not with shit like this lurking the streets.” A sigh escapes your lips as you mess with the nail of your thumb.

“I used to dream of a different world. One with you and Sammy still present.. but in that world everything was happy. We-.. I had children of my own. A husband who did all of the heavy lifting. Hell Sammy even had a family of his own with Jess.. everything was happy. We were happy.. Then I would wake up.. have to watch the two of you kill monsters.. sometimes it was one of you who ended up dead. That’s the moment I decided I’d never have kids of my own. I can’t put their lives at risk like that. Nor give them a life where their mom probably wouldn’t stay alive..”

He watches the way your eyes sadden when they look down at the closed laptop. He knew that feeling all too well. “I used to think about quitting this job when I was younger. Finally escaping to go have a normal life. Normal family really. Now it all seems impossible.” His words make you scoff before turning in your chair to look up at him. A smile threatening to find your lips.

“You? Dean Winchester? Going all soft and having little you’s running around? I’d love to see that image. I haven’t even seen you look at a girl longer than a night.” He fakes a hurtful look. “I can get sentimental, maybe you haven’t seen me at my full potential.” He teases only bringing out your laughter. “Oh your full potential? Oh ok, I’d love to see that. You being all cheesy and loving towards an actual woman.” A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as the laughter dies down.

“Maybe I was just looking for the right girl..” You feel the way his tone shifts. When your eyes look back up at him, his look has shifted. The way he looked at you was different. His eyes softer, like he’s letting his hard mask fall down to show what’s hidden beneath. “Maybe.. she would’ve loved being there for you.. in another life, simpler life I mean.. I bet you would’ve been great Dean.” The soft tone of your voice had Dean’s heart breaking. “Yeah we would’ve.” His eyes linger on yours. Both of your gazes full of love and sadness in what could’ve been.

“You know I only yell at you because I care about you.. I don’t want you leaving. Not anytime soon.” His voice is more serious than before. You give him a small nod. “I know. That’s the same reason I want to be here.. I couldn’t live with myself if either of you died and I wasn’t there to help.. it’d eat me alive.. I’ve never held any of your emotions against you Dean. Sure i’d yell at you but I’d be a hypocrite if I really held it against you.” His eyes flickered between yours. He was looking at you like he’d crumble if he took a breath. Slowly, his body drew closer to yours, hesitantly but certain of what he wanted

The moment shattered when Sam came through the motel door. Dean stumbled away somehow going unnoticed by Sam. “I got a burger for Dean, and a specialized meal for the pickiest eater I know.” He tosses both of you a bag. “Thank you Sammy.” He notices the awkward feeling in the room. “What were you two talking about when I was gone?” Sam asked making Dean awkwardly try to come up with some excuse. “We were talking about life outside of hunting. I was saying that if monsters didn’t exist I would have children of… children..” Your brows suddenly furrow before spinning around and quickly opening the laptop.

“Y/n? What? What is it?” Dean quickly asked but your fingers just type away. You select the search tab and type in Werewolf and Vampire hybrid. Finally an image pops up following the exact description of the murders with various paragraphs of information. “Holy shit..” You whisper to yourself, the two brothers sit in confusion waiting for your explanation. “I didn’t think they could but.. hybrids.. when both Vampires and Werewolves mate giving a mix of the two creatures. I didn’t think it was physically possible.”

Dean joins you in your search for answers while Sam walks out to phone Bobby. “What kills this son of a bitch?” Dean asks leaning in close. His shoulder brushes up against yours, like he’s not afraid of being close to you for once. “I’d assume Silver would be the common denominator..” You scroll a little further before catching the paragraph listing weapons. “Pure silver, knives work to slow them down but bullets and severing the heads are primarily used in killing them.” You look over to Dean with a satisfied smile. The beating of your heart blooms when his eyes catch yours. “I knew you were useful for something.” He jokes only to groan when you punch his shoulder.

You flatten out the top of your suit before climbing out of the impala. You pull the crime scene tape over your head as you step into the horrors that lie within the home. Your eyes scan the foot traffic trying to locate someone with an authoritative look. Finally your eyes catch one of the detectives you had run into earlier on in the case.

“Any witnesses for this one? Or have we struck out this time too?” You question making him rub his forehead before turning to the curb. “Sarah Hopkins.. 18 years old. A real fixer upper if you ask me. Eyes as red as can be. Claims she saw a human figure walk into the home and leave with a blood trail behind only this time with claw. Her words don’t seem that valuable if you ask me, she looks as high as a kite.” He explains. You quickly thank him before making your way over to Sarah.

“Sarah right?” Her head whips to the side before looking up to you. “I uh.. yes that’s me.” She stands up seemingly caught off guard. “Can you tell me what exactly you saw earlier this morning?” You ask making her look around sheepishly. “I saw someone going into the house. I swear I heard growling and screaming but I was too scared to get any closer.. When they left.. that’s when I noticed the blood trail..”

You take down notes of her descriptions. “What were you doing in the area? Alone I mean.” You question as she nervously scratches her arm. “Um.. it’s.. the owner.. Nelson.. I was going to meet up with him but.. I decided not to and that’s when I saw that person.” Her eyes dart around. “Nelson.. who is he to you?” You notice the way her eyes gloss over. The panic in her breathing as she tries to think of an answer.

“Are you and Nelson.. romantically involved?” She looks down before nodding slightly. “He.. am I going to get in trouble? It’s uh.. not necessarily a real relationship.. more so um.” Her breath has grown ragged. “He gives you medication.. ones that help you get rid of all of those difficult feelings?..” a tear falls down her face as she nods. “It’s okay.. I’ll leave that part between us..”

She looked up surprised. “Really? Thank you, thank you so much.. nobodies been nice the entire time I’ve been here, I was scared I was seeing things!” She rambles out before you try calming her down. “It’s alright, I believe every word you’ve given me.. thank you.. here, give me a call if you can think of anything else to tell me or need any help.” You hand her a card with your cell on it before walking back to the impala.

“Nelson Jurrows is our victim, 20 year old drug dealer. Witness is Sarah Hopkins, 18 years old, gets supplied from Nelson. Claims a mysterious figure walked into the house and walked out trailing blood behind. She reported hearing growling noises and screaming inside..” You inform the two. “So what? We thinking drug deal gone bad? This hybrid thing finds him and kills him?” Dean asks making you shrug. “I say we look up more info on him before we trying connecting a motive.” Dean nods before putting baby in drive and heading away from the crime scene.

The three of you were once again researching, this time more focused on connections rather the creature. After spending the entirety of the day researching more victims you finally land on the most recent. “Nelson Jurrows. Held back three times his sophomore year. Pissed off a lot of people in his time there.. says here he got arrested three years back over a domestic dispute. He beat his girlfriend, Sarah Hopkins..” Sam’s words quickly grasp your attention. “Sarah?.. She would’ve been 15 years old.” Sam’s shoots you a sorrowful look before returning to his source. “Seems he has a history with violence..” Sam goes to dig deeper only for your phone to interrupt.

You quickly accept the call, “Hello?” You call out only to hear heavy breathing on the other line before screaming fades in the distance. “Sarah?! Sarah is this you?!” You stand up hearing the frantic action on the other line. “Hello? Is this the agent I talked to?! He’s here!! He’s killing us!” Her voice comes out panicked. You quickly place her on speaker and rush to grab your things. The boys quickly get the memo and grab everything. “Who? Who’s there?!” You question as she cries out.

“Jackson! Nelson’s brother! He killed my friends! He’s hunting us! He let us run around so he can find us! Please don’t let him kill me!” She cries out as wind rushes through the phone, signaling she was running. “Ok just tell me where you are, I’m on my way!” “The woods! It’s right off of Tejas road, right where the abandoned house is!” You go to reply but static hits. “Sarah? Sarah! Dean drive!”

Dean slams on his breaks as you pull up to the house. The three of you file out of the car before taking in your surroundings. It wasn’t the best moment as the moon was the only light illuminating the ground. Perfect conditions for the hybrid to sneak up and get a kill.

You didn’t know how many kids you were dealing with but the sooner you ganked the hybrid, the better chances these kids had at survival. By the way Sarah spoke you could only assume it was a friendly gathering gone wrong. Hell most were probably to shitfaced to realize what was happening. You venture around the house tripping slightly. When you look down you catch a glimpse of one of the kids. Your eyes quickly look away after noticing the hole in their chest.

Your gun is clutched in your left hand as your right clutches the machete. Both prepared to kill the creature stalking you in the night. “Are you that FBi agent?..” A shaky voice calls out before coming out from behind the bins. “Sarah? Hey hey yes it’s me.. My name is Y/n, I’m here it’s ok.” You rush to her. Her body was covered in scratches and blood, some of which didn’t seem to be her own. “Y/n.. He just started to attack everyone.. but not with any weapons.. his teeth.. they were so sharp, his nails were worse.. he tore them apart.. he let me go.. he said something about enjoying the hunt..” She trembled against your touch.

“It’s ok, me and a couple friends are here to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.. ok?” She quickly nods before a crack of branches comes from within the forest. “Stay behind me.. if anything happens, if he tries attacking us I want you to yell as loud as you can. Only and only if he attacks.” A terrified whimper escapes her lips but she ultimately nods. The two of you make your way alongside the house trying to locate either Sam or Dean.

You make sure she stays tucked behind you and closer to the house so you can protect her if you need to. The only way you know she’s behind you still if from the unsteady breaths she takes. “Ok Sarah listen to me.. what we are dealing with isn’t normal.. it’s not human.. take this.” You pull out another gun holstered in your pants and unclick the safety. “If he tries attacking us either shoot or run and yell for help.” Just as you go to hand her the gun her eyes widen drastically.

“Y/n watch out!” Her screams were loud. You barely had time to process them before a searing pain shoots through your back. The gun goes flying deep into the woods. Your body rams into the wooden building before you steady yourself. The next moment you barely had time to raise the machete before his claws reached for your face. The machete caught his hands, the force alone sent the blade into his palms. A fierce growl escapes his throat before he slashes the bloody claw against your arm. You go to swing the weapon only for him to send it flying. You could hear Sarah’s panicked screams. “Sarah run!” You yell out only for the hybrid to turn around. His attention fully shifts to the young girl.

She turns around bolting for the woods. You run over to where the gun was thrown before aiming it for his body. A loud gunshot rings out, hitting him in the shoulder blade. A pained yelp escapes his lips before he turns to you. His eyes full of rage before he’s sprinting at you. Your next shot grazes his neck but it’s not enough to kill him.

What you desperately needed was the machete that was thrown from your grasp. A strangled scream escape your lips as an intense pressure hits your stomach. You feel the way his nails pierce through your skin, clawing its way inside of you. His fingers shift only intensifying the agony. His other hand squeezes your throat making you gasp for air.

“Thought the Winchester’s little play toy was supposed to be strong?” He chuckles drawing closer to your neck. His teeth graze your neck nicking it slightly. A disgusted groan escapes your lips before wincing. “Any last words? Wouldn’t want the last thing your pretty mouth do be screaming for help that’s not coming.” He tilts his head tauntingly. “Go to hell..” He scoffs with a wide grin. “Should’ve chose better.” His hand reached up giving you the opportunity to raise your gun. By the time he noticed his hand had already swiped for your chest. The bullet you shot goes straight through his head.

His body drops leaving your slumped against the house. You gasp for air as your hand reaches up to find just below your throat slit wide open. Blood oozed from both your chest and stomach. The wounds were definitely severe. One of your hands steadied the blood flow on your chest and the other holds your stomach. You couldn’t tell what hurt the most.

“Y/n! Where are you! Y/n!” A voice comes fading in from the distance. “Here.. I’m.. over here..!” You attempt to yell but the pain has your sliding closer to the ground. Just before you fully hit the ground the voice grows louder. “I’m here!” You managed to scream out before pain engulfed you.

Any strength you had in your leg gives out as you hit the ground. Your back was pressed against the wooden building trying to keep yourself focused on thinking. “Y/n!?” The voice grows more urgent and scared the closer it gets. You turn your head to the side seeing two blurred figures running toward you. The closer it gets the more they merge until you make out Dean’s body. Everything drops beside him as he sprints towards you. “NO! No no no!” He yells before sliding infront of you. His hand replaces yours and keeps pressure applied to your chest, not noticing the bleeding in your stomach.

“I killed the hybrid.. Sarah.. Sarah is she safe?..” You gasp out trying to push past the pain. “Sammy has her, she’s going to be alright, you’re going to be alright.. you’re.. it’s going to be okay..” You smile and nod at his words only to feel the pulsing pain throughout your body. Your eyes close trying to focus on pushing away the pain. When you reopen them you see the way Dean’s eyes tear up. A wince finds your lips. “Dammit..” You whisper making him tense. “What, what is it?” He panics trying to see where else you are hurt. “It’s not that.. it’s.. dammit you were right.. i guess I can’t help but play the hero..” A sad laugh escapes your lips before a cough follows. Your dry lips get covered with blood filling your mouth.

“No don’t say that.. it’s ok, I’m going to get you some help. SAM! We are going to get you help! SAMMY!” Dean yells out as your hand moves up to hold his wrist. “It was you Dean..” His eyes show pure confusion and pain in them. “What?” His eyes search yours trying to make sure they’re still on him. “The man I imagined settling down with.. I didn’t describe you with a family.. it’s because I always imagined having one with you..” You managed to choke all of that out before tears engulf you.

“Oh sweetheart I couldn’t imagine anyone else being a better mother than you.. that’s exactly why you need to hang on…” His head rest against your forehead as you struggle to keep it up. “I love you Dean.. I have to say it now..” A quiet cry escapes his lips. “I love you more than you could ever imagine.. it’s not your fault.. I wanted to be here.. with you.. I’m so happy to be here with you.. wherever you go.. I’m happy Dean.. that I’m here with you while I di-” “don’t.. do say that.. you’re not dying..” He cries out making you smile sadly.

“Dean.. I am..” You look down to where your hands held your shirt. He quickly pulls it up to reveal the gaping wound. You cry out as the fabric moves back over the wound. “Please Dean!.. just say it back.. I need to hear it.. I-I need to..” Both of you have been reduced to tears. You clutch onto his shirt trying to find something to keep you grounded.

“I love you so goddamn much it hurts. Everyday I’m scared of it. Scared of loving someone so much. Knowing that I can’t have you with me forever. Dammit you’ve changed everything inside of me. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling like this until I met you.. from the very first moment I saw you I knew you’d crush me..” You can’t help the sobs escaping your lips as Dean continues.

“I love you so much it hurts.. and it scares me.. I never meant for you to get hurt.” He sniffs trying to fight off the tears threatening to rain down. “I know Dean.. I always knew I’d go out on the job.. it was just a matter of when and how.. I’m just thankful it’s here with you.. I don’t ever wanna be alone.. please.. just stay here.. just for the moment..” You shudder as your body grows weaker.

“Dean?! Y/n?!” Sam’s voice fills your ears. “I want.. to say goodbye.. to both of you.” Your hand trembles against his arm struggling to keep pressure on your wound. Sam came running around the corner only to halt the moment he saw the two of you. “Hey Sammy..” You smile as tears flow down your cheeks. “No..” His brows furrow before he rushes over to kneel beside you. “I told him.. about what we talked about.. goddammit..” The tears have you choking up as you try to speak. Tears have already found Sam’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.. I know both of you wanted me to stay behind.. I know.. I’m a stubborn bitch… but dammit I love you boys.. take care of him would you Sammy?..” You ask only for him to nod. He doesn’t try to hold back any emotions. “Can I talk to Dean.. alone..” You asks before dozing off. Sam hesitates before getting up. “I love you..” He says making you smile. “Go take care of Sarah.. she needs.. mm.. she needs someone to be with her.” He nods before heading away in tears.

Deans hand reaches up to wipe the blood from your lips. “Such.. a gentleman..” You say slowly making him laugh bittersweetly. His eyes can’t seem to look anywhere else but your own. “I can’t seem to get enough of those eyes of yours.. can’t get enough of them..” Your voice was quiet and weak. “I think that’s what I truly fell in love with..” Your hand slips from his as everything becomes too heavy. He tries steadying your body as the life fades from you, quicker than before. “I’ll see you soon.. Dean..” With every ounce of strength you have left, you move your head to press your lips against his. He kisses back trying to take in every last feeling of you. Knowing when he pulls away it will all be gone.. the moment your body goes limp he pulls away full on sobbing with you in his arms. No one around to witness the mess you’ve made him.

Dean sat there with you in his arms for an hour.

He prayed to God, he prayed to Cas, he prayed to anyone listening, begging for them to save you. To bring you back to him.

One full hour of tearful pleading.

Sam had come back to tell him the police were coming to get Sarah so they had to leave. He’d helped carry your body back to the car. Dean refused to leave you, he also chose a proper burial for you. From the moment he saw you crumpling to the ground he knew he’d be doing everything to get you back. So instead of burning your body, he put you in a grave. After all you would need a body to return to.

Cas had heard his prayers. The desperation in Dean’s voice as he pleaded for you to be saved and returned to him. The cries and begging that Dean spouted out. He’d listened to every word. Eventually he managed to locate you.

Dean promised he’d get you back. That he wouldn’t let you die.

His promise held true as you clawed your way out of the dirt containing your body.

You were coming home.

A/n: Welp I guess I love to make myself cry.. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m a sucker for angst but I wasn’t just going to let you stay dead, that’s not how Supernatural works ;). I’m debating writing a part 2 if enough people want it. If there are any spelling errors just let me know and I’ll work to fix them :)

[goooofy-goooober1121]

Viktor and His Inability to Rest

Based on this ask: "what about a lil request of reader taking care of viktor when he's too injured to work?"

Ask Box is open! Please feel free to request!

Reblogs always appreciated <3

Tags: gn!Reader, roommate!reader, roommate!Viktor, Viktor is Tired, descriptions of pain, Viktor has mixed feelings about being cared for, can be read as platonic or romantic! I'm going with the femoral anteversion + scoliosis combo for him :P

W/C: 1534

Please correct me if anything represented here about disabilities is inaccurate because I myself am able bodied and am going off of what I have read and researched!

Sick Days

Sick days were not in Viktor’s vocabulary.

Day after day, night after night, he was a busy man. When he wasn’t working on Hextech, he was assisting Heimerdinger with the everyday processes of the Academy. When he wasn’t doing that, he was hunched over his desk in the laboratory, poring over calculations and calibrations as though he were a poet and they his poetry. And when he wasn’t doing that-- well, he supposed he could fit four or five hours of sleep. 

To Viktor, it was just the way things were. Like the intricate parts of the machines he so painstakingly built, he worked best when every part was in place and at full capacity. It had been like that his whole life, and only intensified once he made it to the Academy. In Zaun, there hadn’t been much support for children like him; not that he blamed anyone for it. Zaun barely had the capacity to open schools, much less hospitals. It was because of this that Viktor learned to always give himself wholly and determinedly to his endeavors-- whether it be walking, learning, or simply getting out of bed.

All because for his whole life, he consistently had to work twice as hard as everybody else. 

First due to his disability, and then compounded by his admission to the Academy. He could not afford to fall behind or perform below par compared to his privileged peers. He knew what they thought of him, what they whispered; the poor Zaunite boy with a limp is what he once heard someone refer to him as in passing. It was a succinct summary of his perception amongst the student body. He was a charity case, a show of pity, notable only for his origins and the cane that supported his weight. 

He did not toil away his teenage years just to be written off like that, and he most certainly did not do so just to stop then. It would do no good to Zaun, and it would most certainly do worse to him. 

So he labored endlessly. Top marks in every class. Glowing reviews from his teachers. Independent research. All-nighters. A caffeine addiction he was sure would catch up to him someday. Even recognition from the headmaster himself. Sick days were not in Viktor’s vocabulary-- he could not afford them. Not when he was so self-assured of what he was capable of, and not when he knew everyone was watching and waiting for him to slip up like a starved wolf waits for a rabbit to turn its back. 

Which is why, when he woke up mere minutes before his alarm clock went off, he was so deeply insistent on getting up out of bed-- even when his shoulders felt more unevenly weighted than usual and his hip clicked with every movement, and even when his leg-- inverted as if to point itself at its front-facing twin-- debated very painfully that no, I don’t want to get up today when he tried to stand. 

He cursed his body for deciding that it would decide to get its revenge for the copious amounts of caffeine he had pumped into it and his abysmal, near-nonexistent sleep schedule on a school day. Similarly, he cursed aloud when his cane slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the floor at the fresh hour of five in the morning like it was trying to challenge his still-ticking alarm clock to a ‘who can be more disruptive’ contest. 

He was convinced the universe was playing a cruel joke on him when his clock seemingly accepted, its hammer smashing into the double bells and letting out a shrill 'Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!' in the form of incessant pealing. He had been so focused on glaring at his traitorous cane that the noise nearly had his skeleton leaping from his flesh; his scramble to shut off the alarm was ineffective, however, at avoiding rousing his roommate.

Truthfully, you had first been perturbed from your sleep when Viktor’s cane fell and he quietly cursed at it like it murdered his family. You were nearly asleep again when the alarm clock yanked you from the cradling arms of slumber, and deciding that you might as well wake up and get ready for the day, you yawned and sat up in bed. Drowsily rubbing your sleep-crusted eyes, you spared a glance over at Viktor’s side of the room, only to find him struggling to stand even after he picked up his cane. 

“Viktor?” You mumbled.

Viktor froze in place. “Go back to bed. I am fine,” he answered, words clipped and terse. He tried to stand once more, winced, and fell right back into bed.

Throwing the covers off of yourself, you swung your legs over the side of your mattress. “You are not fine,” you answered, frowning, “you look like you’re regretting being born. I told you those energy shots were a bad idea--”

“I am fine,” he snapped.

You paused halfway to your feet. Viktor immediately regretted his tone, watching you deflate in real time. He cleared his throat, his voice a bit softer. “That is-- I am only experiencing a little trouble. Some more pain than usual, that is all.”

You were quiet for a moment, then tilted your head skeptically. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on walking around all day in this condition.”

“I can do it well enough.” He huffed, cane wobbling beneath his grip.

“Viktor, you have to climb three flights of stairs just to get to your office.” You motioned vaguely in his direction. “You can’t even get out of bed.”

“This is a momentary lapse. Work takes precedence.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Viktor stared at you. You stared at him. 

“I’ll get you an ice pack,” you said, rising to your feet and putting on your slippers. They were a gag gift from a friend for your birthday; fuzzy and white with beady black eyes and big pink noses. A tiny air pump embedded in the heels of the slippers caused their rabbit ears to pop up with each step you took towards the door. They were glorious, you reasoned. Viktor pretended to hate them. “You stay there.” 

Viktor only grunted in response, watching you grab the ice bucket beside the door. 

Off you went on your valiant quest for ice from the machine down the hall-- hair sticking up in all sorts of directions, pajamas crumpled from sleep, and bunny slippers playing peekaboo all the way there.

Viktor hadn’t moved from his sitting position once in the two minutes that you left. Poorly masked weariness stared up at you when you insisted he lay back while you filled an ice bag with the ice you’d retrieved. He obeyed without all that much protest, only partially insisting that he could have done everything himself. 

You didn’t take it to heart. If you were in constant pain, you figured you’d be pretty agitated, too. Carefully, you placed the ice bag beneath his lower back, where he once described to you that most of the pain flared, and a pillow beneath his hips to relieve the pressure of his own body on them.

“...Those are ridiculous,” he mumbles, staring down at your slippers. His words, however, are without venom, and his lips betray a smile.

“But they’re cheering you up,” you answer, grinning. “Want your blankets?”

He scoffs, averting his gaze, but his smile does not fade. “Yes, please.”

That was the thing about you. Usually, Viktor would have been utterly mortified at the thought of being cared for by someone. It more often than not felt more like a violation of autonomy and forceful infantilization than anything else.

It’s my leg that gives me trouble, he would always say, not my brain.

But not with you. You always asked. You always had the patience to listen. He supposed it wasn’t so bad to be cared for by you.

You pulled his blankets up to his shoulders and set his cane to lean on the side of his bed. Perfectly in reach, in case he wanted to try again later. You brought him his pain medication and a glass of water. 

“You do not have to do this,” he told you, swallowing down a pill the size of a quarter.

“Nobody has to do anything,” you answer, “but it’s still important to make the choice to act.”

Viktor blinked, amber eyes peering up at you as if you’d spoken to him in another tongue. “...You sound like a righteous novel protagonist.”

“Thanks. I’ve been reading.”

“You reminded me.” He smiled weakly at you. “Could you fetch a book for me? If I’m to be laid up all day, I would appreciate some entertainment.”

You nodded, taking one more look at him to ensure everything was in its place before turning off to the bookshelf in the far corner of your shared room. “Which do you want? We’ve got Theory of Quantum Mechanics; The Roots of Medicine: a Guide to Medicinal Herbs; The Glory of Life and Evolution…”

You paused, waiting for his insight. It didn’t come. Turning to glance at him to ask if he’s alright, you quickly silence yourself when you see his eyes shut and his lips parted, soft snores permeating the otherwise quiet space.

Sick days were not in Viktor’s vocabulary, but maybe, just this once, he could allow it if it was spent with you.

----

A/N: does anyone else remember those slippers from the 2010s that had the ears that flipped up every time you walked or was that a fever dream

[averycutesalamander]

i have extremely neutral opinions about SMAUs (social media AUs) but i just thought about what Boothill's role would be in one and im kind of losing my mind about it.

his account handle is @.silvergunshura and he literally only posts clumsy nature photos and occasional pics of his gun. a handful of videos that are just the sound of the wilds. never puts any captions or tags on his posts. extremely long unacknowledged absences with no schedule. double-digit amount of followers at an absolute maximum. absolutely no interaction with his audience. or anyone else on the platform actually. quite frankly he doesn't pay any attention to his following in the slightest. bro simply cannot be bothered. for all he cares he is sending these photos to the void and there are no other users on the platform.

and then he posts one (1) video of him at the shooting range nailing bullseyes left and right like it's nothing. barely half of his body is in frame and most of his face is covered by his hair. someone with a decent following shares it and his entire fucking profile EXPLODES because people will NOT stop talking about how hot he is and it kinda snowballs from there. people go through his entire backlog only to find ZERO other posts with his face or body in them. the best they get is little snippets of his arms. people are frothing at the fucking mouth trying to figure out who he is and nobody knows because he literally hasn't said a single word in his entire posting history. people make theory posts, which obviously gets more people invested in this new mystery. his comments are filled with people speculating about who he is and what the fuck he's doing. someone posts a massive spreadsheet detailing all of the identifiable locations in his posts, and they're literally all over the galaxy. immediately afterwards they're cancelled for some vague allegations about them being a shady intelligentsia guild member guilty of multiple human rights violations and everybody completely forgets about the spreadsheet.

Boothill posts a single blurry photo of his hand feeding a chipmunk and people lose their goddamn minds. he follows this up an hour later with a photo of the same chipmunk sitting on his shoulder that is somehow even blurrier than the last and it briefly trends on the front page. a week later he uploads a video of him playing a harmonica by a campfire, once again barely in frame, lit only by the flickering fire. people brighten the video in a desperate attempt to get a better look at his face, but there's nothing identifiable. someone posts a slightly unhinged video examining the tiniest pixels in every screencap of him that they can find, claiming that he's definitely a halovian because of some extremely blurry details, and you technically can't deny it as a possibility because there are no clear shots of where his halo or wings would be. naturally this severely divides fans, and several other theories about his species pop up over the course of a few days. many people are called morons from all sides.

the REAL drama comes when he posts a picture where he's holding what looks suspiciously like an extremely precious meteorite-formed gem that was stolen during a private IPC auction two weeks ago. this post is also notable because it's the first time he's used a caption and it's literally just "lol". naturally people quickly connects the dots and realize that he's BOOTHILL, that crazy motherfucker with the vendetta against the IPC, and why the fuck is he posting nature photos and videos of him feeding birds and shit. silvergunshura fans are instantly divided by discourse about whether or not it's ethical to be a fan. "silvergun fans dni" and "silvergun antis dni" become staples in the bios of people invested in the drama. a bunch of fans start using his substitute swears, and whether or not this is ironic is extremely debatable. the business of cyborg modifications has a moderate boom. anti-IPC sentiments have a notable increase, but now the people doing serious exposés and earnest discussion about the humanitarian crimes of the IPC that are concealed from the public are constantly called simps. there's a brief stint with a handful of Boothill copycat crimes that are all solved within the week.

people unsuccessfully try to hunt down any other potential socials to no avail, but this does spawn a massive wave of fake accounts on a million different platforms, which obviously successfully baits a ton of people. the drama gets even spicier when the moderators shut down his account. one of the mods gets doxxed by an outraged fan. even more fake accounts pop up. Boothill comes back less than a week later as @.silvercowboy244 like nothing happened. his returning post is a crooked picture of a sorta weird looking tree, and he's pointing toward the top left of the frame. the caption is just "bird?" and nobody can figure out what the FUCK that's supposed to mean, because there's no bird visible in the picture, nor is there a bird nest in the tree. conspiracy theories and decoders are immediately chomping at the bit trying to figure out if it has some kind of secret meaning.

tons of people try to use his posts to pinpoint his location for clout or the bounty money or to find him in person and beg him to let them give him head, but he never posts them exactly when they're taken, and nobody can figure out what the fuck logic he's using to pick his next destination. there's an IPC investigation. his accounts keep getting banned but he keeps coming back like a cockroach. dedicated fan archives are made to preserve all of his shitty photos. he never acknowledges any of the drama.

if you're fortunate enough to know Boothill personally and you ask him about all of that weird shit with his socials, he just shrugs and says, "yep, i keep gettin' locked out. can't remember passwords for shirt." if you ask him what he thinks of all the drama surrounding his online presence, he gives you the most bewildered expression you've ever seen on his face. "what the fork are you yappin' about?? what do you mean i got "band" ?? disk horse??? docksing???? i think you've got a few screws loose buddy" and he promptly forgets about the entire ordeal and goes back to posting blurry nature pictures like literally nothing happened.

edit: here's part two-ish lol

[arcane-ish]

"but what was his tax policy" and way too lenghty ramblings about Vander's statue and reputation

Which always makes me wonder who built the statue of Vander that we see Silco talk to. Because who else in Zaun actually has the funds to build something that size? Did Silco keep up the lie that Vander started the Lanes and led rebellions and was a hero? (It wouldn't surprise me if Silco did it to keep the crowd on his side as he took over the Last Drop. That man has so many unaddressed issues, I love him.)

@out-there-tmblr

I have to admit I never considered that people don't know that Silco killed Vander and that he could have built the statue. It's a very interesting thought.

I just kind of assumed that it would have been in Silco's interest to be open about having killed Vander to appear fearsome and impressive? And the statue just looks very different to the more harsh/jagged "big brother is watching you" style that to me always suggested that Silco doesn't really try to make nice with people.

The statue looks kind of jagged, like it is made up out of spare parts that suggests more that it could have been built from scraps by amateurs rather than it was commissioned.

And would Ekko really sign a statue made by Silco to cover up the fact that he killed Vander?

So I just always assumed it must have been Ekko or people who feel like Ekko who built it. To me it always made some sense to me that it exists. That this and this would exist.

Like maybe the mural and the statue were created relatively soon after Vander's death. The mural in the Firelight base makes sense because that is just all Ekko.

I could picture somebody making the statue shortly after Vander's death, maybe even as a bit of a fuck you to Silco a "we remember that you killed the guy to get where you are and we the people were never asked if we were okay with it". There are signs that people came and tagged the statue, maybe that even maybe somebody comes and has to "keep the flame burning"?

And similarly even if the statue was meant as a fuck you, I can picture Silco not giving a shit (because he doesn't care as much what people think of him), or even find it funny. Whether despite his disagreement with Vander personally he doesn't mind if people hold up the image of a fellow revolutionary (ie I could easily picture not bothering to spread the news that Vander had a deal with Grayson and just portraying it as a normal power struggle and Grayson's death as an accident by werewolf the way the Pilties think it happened).

Or that he even thinks it's a cute that the people are rebellious (not to the extent to go and work with the Firelights, but you know, just appreciating that Zaun is kind of punky and wild).

It makes sense to me that the people of The Lanes might see Vander as a symbol of comfort and peace. ie maybe not everybody benefits from Silco's new reign. Also when somebody gets murdered it's not rare that people overemphasize their positive qualities. For that to work there really isn't much necessary than Vander being an okay, non-offensive leader. Doesn't tax people too bad, asks for their opinion, doesn't murder too many people (to their knowledge).

So that part doesn't seem too weird to me.

Firelight mural = that's just Ekko. Especially since season 2 establish that he can pull off a mural like that (okay maybe even in the AU he knew what people to ask help him or maybe he painted it 100% himself, doesn't matter, he is certainly the driving force behind it)

Statue = could have been built somewhat shortly after Vander's death. People have vague recollections of "things were better under Vander". Even that people still meet there for important political debates in a "townhall" kind of way doesn't bother me. You an still to agree to meet at Trafalgar square without having any opinion on Trafalgar.

No, what bugs me is this one.

How the fuck is Vander still a symbol of rebellion like what, 6-8 years after his death and 10+ years after presumably the last time he did anything revolutionary?

Especially since in this case we KNOW that Ekko (one of the people we know has an emotional connection to Vander) didn't paint it because he was sucked away by the hexcore and likely wouldn't just that casually made a mural celebrating Jinx at this point.

So somebody who is NOT Ekko had a high enough opinion on Vander to put him in a mural and a mural that represents revolution.

To me it has just always made more sense that within Zaun Vander would represent peace. Because the statue has always looked kind of peaceful to me with the soft glowing light. And it was Vander spent his last few years working on/building up. [maybe even longer since he seems to already be flirting with peacefulness in the Silco and Felicia flashback] And simply because to me it just seems like a very relatable thing that imo the vast majority of radicals/revolutionaries have to deal with: that they find out that in most situations the vast majority of people don't like revolutions and prefer peace/protection (see the long list of revolutions that were totally counting on "the population will rise up and support us!!" and completely whiffed on that)

As the mural venerates Jinx, there's a decent chance that one of the Jinxers made it. So why would they have a reason to have a deep opinion on a guy who those last claim to fame that we know off was to lead some sort of uprising on the bridge that got slapped down? Most of them seem young, so why would they care? There's a huge difference between somebody building a statue rather shortly after Vander's death when he might still be vivid in people's memory and years later*.

I guess a Firelight could have made it and maybe Ekko has been spinning on the tale of how awesome Vander was. But again, considering his age, shouldn't Ekko's experience be more about peaceful community leader Vander?

Admittedly, the underlying context of the mural is it being about at least one person who doesn't want it and who is in a very different frame of mind than what the mural depicts at least at that point in time. So it also misrepresenting Vander/it being there because somebody didn't properly know or understand his story is certainly feasible.

Anyway, really got me thinking that we don't really know what exactly Silco, Vander and friends really did.

The only thing we know for sure:

Built up/ran a bar

Organized something the bridge that escalated and went badly

Both Vander&Benzo and later Silco&Sevika collect "taxes" in the form of protection money

Vander seems to maybe be slightly more open to hearing from the people and responding to their wishes

We also know from writer hints that smuggling was big part of what Silco and Vander did.

Fixing the Mines

So in season one my working theory was that the mines were a shit place to work and maybe Vander & Silco "freed" people from having to work in the mines and instead shifted the economy towards more smuggling/trade which isn't as physically grueling. But that was kind of dashed by season 2 because it suggests that Connel and Felicia still worked in the mine even though Vander and Silco already own the Last Drop. So why would she still work in the mines if she could just work with them at the Drop?

Maybe they just vastly improved working conditions/worker safety? Or maybe they led a rebellion against the mine owners and actually succeeded in setting up a worker run mine?

That's the kind of thing that I could picture inspiring people years later even if it went badly (because looking around in history even short periods that feel like a lot of freedom and self actualization can inspire people for a long time even if historically speaking it wasn't around long).

Daring acts of crime

Then there's Vi's statement about the kind of stunts Vander would have pulled in his youth. So maybe Silco and Vander's early revolutionary activity contained a lot of daring and showy attacks on Piltover rich people that get them celebrated in the Undercity. Robbing big fancy townhouses and spreading the loot around generously (even if it's just by generously buying rounds or food). Or leaving showy calling cards.

Vander could be living off just that old reputation. And if he had a reputation for showy stunts against Piltover then maybe that would fit slightly better with why people might associate him with Jinx in a moral that specifically celebrates her color attack on Piltover.

Cleaning Up The Lanes I (fighting the old system)

I don't think that there's actually much trace of it. But it's a trope in a lot of fiction and I think it's worth thinking about what exactly where "the Lanes" before? Is it just one of those situation where there's always a long line of cruel crime bosses and Vander was one of the softest. And Vander and the gang got into power by picking fights with other criminal gangs and winning or by kicking out whoever was the previous boss?

And people have positive associations with that time period because they helped git rid of . Maybe that could be a good way to explain where the Hound of the Underground nickname could have come from, if they spent some time fighting or pacifying other gangs. (again personally I think it could also just be a pitfighting nick name)

Cleaning Up The Lanes II (establishing order)

Or were the Lanes lawless and Vander (with or without Silco) brought structure to it? Is this the first time the Lanes have a boss at all? If yes, what does that mean? Does it mean a pseudo government system, where taxes are collected from the ones who can afford it?

Was there maybe some sort of social system under Vander where maybe he collects the taxes and then has like a fund to like help people in need, like if they lost their house or had an injury? If Vander and Benzo collect taxes, what does Vander spend it on (presuming he might also have income from the bar?). Is that all going straight to feeding his kids

Silco when he rules doesn't live super ostentatiously either, but at least you can picture that the taxes he collects go to buying research materials for Singed or buying weapons or buying machines for Remi's factories.

(if Vander really had like the tiniest traces of a homemade social welfare system then maybe that would explain why people hold him in high regard years later, but again, how realistic is that?)

Or does running the Lanes mean for Vander that he like helped people negotiate their quarrels, like the barest hint of a court/justice system? If somebody acts out on the Lanes, what happens? Do people come to Vander and ask him to take care of it? Does he just keep his ear on the ground and go out and take out people who he perceives to act out? Do people show up at his place and ask him to decide in one of their quarrels? (I was thinking how in a bunch of RPG video games in the recent years they have introduced sequences where people ask you to decide a conflict, but even if it's not a "petitioning the duke" kind of situation, if Vander has a rule he's giving out, how is it handled when people go against that rule?)

Again going here with the idea that people might remember Vander positively if they perceived him as a guy they could go to for help and Silco later is more a hand off lawless "fix your stuff yourself" kind of guy where the normal people are concerned.

Like I said, I think Vander doesn't have to be a super duper special guy beyond "he was a nice charismatic guy with a bar people like to go to and who got killed surprisingly in way people don't really understand" for the statue to exist. But that he still gets remembered years later by people other than Ekko is more weird to me. And even if one assigns less value to the acts of season 2, there's still he whole "why does he have a nickname and reputation that even foreigners know" and what Vi is referring to with the stunts of Vander's youth that she presumably heard from other people about.

(and yes: I just wrote a whole "okay, but what would be his tax policy?" post)

[*and yes the mural that bugs me so much could be a "two part" one, ie the Vander part could be older and then somebody else added Jinx to the existing Vander mural, ta least getting around my "Ekko definitely didn't paint the Jinx mural" issues with it]

[theladyofshalott1989]

Okay, I have something in mind and feel free to alter, remove, add - etc to make yourself feel happy with it :)

plot: I was thinking male MC (reader, house neutral although not slytherin due to the following) sneaking into the slytherin common room with an invisibility potion (thank Garreth) while slytherin house is out partying, to steal something of sebastians (being rivals). what he didn’t realise however was that sebastian had gotten detention and couldn’t go to the party, making him and ominis enter the common room while he was still inside - and because garreth isn’t the BEST at potions, the time duration of that potion wasn’t as long as they’d hoped..

he gets caught by sebastian and ominis and the two interrogates him and it ultimately ends up in a threesome (if you’re fine with that, otherwise ominis can leave lol) with elements of overstim and sub reader if that’s your thing?

thank you! have a great day pls, everybody deserves a great day :)

Your wish is my command, Anon! 💚

"Trouble on My Left, Trouble on My Right"

Sebastian Sallow/Male Reader & Ominis Gaunt/Male Reader

Synopsis: You came for what was his. Instead, you found yourself between what’s theirs. (Or: in and out, leave no trace? Perhaps, but not exactly in the way you had planned.)

Rating: Explicit‼️

Tags: POV Second Person, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Top Sebastian Sallow, Top Ominis Gaunt, Sassy Ominis Gaunt, Jealous Sebastian Sallow, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Sexual Overstimulation, Banter, Possessive Behavior, Submission, Voyeurism, Male Reader-Insert

Word Count: 2,300

[ AO3 Link ]

Fun Fact (minor spoiler): The concept of a teddy bear wasn't actually invented until 1902, hence my not referring to Sebastian's bear with that verbiage. (Yes, I did Google it. The things I do for explicit one-shots! Haha.) Also, who knew that the teddy bear was named after American President Theodore ("Teddy") Roosevelt? I certainly didn't!

You hadn't seen this coming. Two Slytherins, completely at your mercy. Although... maybe it was the other way around.

One lounged across the bed, generous cock out, fingers drumming impatiently upon the dark green duvet. The other pressed against the wall, your mouth attending ferociously to his cock. 

Yes, this was definitely unexpected.

You'd started out the evening with something quite different in mind. A simple heist, of sorts.

Steal the one possession Sebastian Sallow, your ever-infuriating, but also decidedly attractive, deliciously addictive, annoyingly perfect—Merlin did you hate admitting it, even if only in your head—rival, would actually miss. The one possession that, if taken, might truly rattle him.

His stuffed bear. 

Or so Anne claimed. Anne, who despite everything, hadn't lost her taste for mischief. Anne, who might've let that secret slip a little too easily, perhaps because of a tiny, ill-timed crush. Shame you didn't find the womanly form, for want of a better word, all that spellbinding. Not that it mattered tonight.

At least you'd thought.

"Why does he get all the attention?" Sebastian whinged, his chocolate brown eyes glinting in the warm flicker of the gas lamp resting on the nightstand to his right. Even Sebastian's whining held a certain sort of allure—damn him! Damn him to Azkaban and back! Not literally, obviously. 

Ominis released a long-suffering sigh. The kind of sigh that could fill the entire castle and still not hold all his exasperation. Sebastian's mid-pleasure interruption was probably more than just a habit. It was probably more like a ritual. Presumably, of course, although it made a certain sort of sense. 

"Because some of us know how to wait our turn," you muttered, a difficult feat since your mouth was still stuffed full of Ominis's cock. Whether anyone actually understood you was debatable. 

Apparently someone did, because Sebastian shot back, "Wait my turn? Darling, I don't wait for anyone. I take what I want."

Darling, hm? 

You very much wanted to ignore him, but when it came to Sebastian, that was difficult, nigh on impossible even. Ominis would have to wait, at least for a moment or two. With a soft pop, you pulled away from him. He sighed again, clearly unamused, as you settled back on your haunches. 

"I don't see you making a move, Seb," you drawled. "What happened to that relentless determination, that cockiness?" You waggled your eyebrows. 

Sebastian was moving now, stalking forward, dropping low to seize your shoulders, hard enough to bruise. As he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, he mouthed, "Don't start," then caught your right earlobe between his teeth in a quick, sharp nip. You gasped, knees buckling beneath you. Good thing he was holding you up, not so much supporting you as imprisoning you, shackling you in place. 

Oh how the tables had turned.

No more than half an hour ago, you'd slipped into this very room unnoticed, practically radiating smug satisfaction. Garreth's potion had worked like a charm, quite literally, although it wasn't an invisibility charm, but a subtler kind of vanishing act. An "ignore me if you see me" effect, as he'd put it. He called it his Wallflower Potion. 

You had to hand it to Garreth. No one could say he wasn't clever. Just not always reliably so, which had soon become painfully clear. ('The potion will last a full hour,'—your arse.)

Still, to be fair, not everything could be blamed on his half-baked potion. 

In hindsight, you probably should've done your due diligence. Sebastian was hardly a model student, after all. He was too much of a rakish cad for that. And while the rest of Slytherin House was off at the Three Broomsticks, celebrating the completion of their N.E.W.T.s, downing butterbeers and dancing like there was no tomorrow, Sebastian had been serving detention, with Ominis, of all people. 

Or so you'd overheard as they'd wandered through the door. Sebastian, of course, was the one muttering about it, clearly quite put out, the extrovert that he was.

You briefly considered how Ominis and Sebastian had both ended up in detention, together, but you didn't have much time to mull it over, for you were mere seconds away from being caught bear-handed by the devil himself, flanked by his angelic—ignoring his heritage, that is—blind shadow. 

Surprise!

So, how had you ended up here? Here, now, with Sebastian shoving you against his bed, ass up, conjuring only the smallest daub of lubrication, too quick to entirely cloak your entrance but just enough that it wouldn't be horribly painful when he—"Ah!"—shoved his cock inside you. It didn't take long before you'd adjusted to the firm pressure of him and were shouting out, "Merlin, yes!", making it all too clear that you wanted this. That you had wanted this since you ever met him. Had he wanted it too? 

Huh. And here you thought he only saw you as an irritating schoolmate to best in various subjects: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, dueling, spider obliteration, just to name a few. 

Perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps you had been wrong all along.

Ominis hissed a choice curse or two from behind the two of you, apparently none too pleased that Sebastian had pulled you away for such an, allegedly, time-consuming act. Sebastian was too busy thrusting to pay him any mind, grunting with each earth-shattering movement, the bed creaking in reply. 

Speaking of busyness, you were too busy trying to breathe, bracing yourself as his cock traveled deep, deep, deeper inside you, so deep it was punishing; Sebastian was hammering away at you like his very life depended on it. It was a bit ridiculous to be totally honest, but you didn't have any complaints. Why would you? Sebastian's determined resolve was far too stimulating to allow any other thought, not even of the unwelcome variety. Far too stimulating and then some. 

Sebastian's cock made its last triumphant hurrah. He moaned, a helpless sound, so unlike him that it made your heart leap into your throat, but then warmth flooded your insides, pooled inside you, and you lost all sense of time and place…  

Until Sebastian released himself and collapsed on his side, pulling you along with him. 

For the briefest moment, Sebastian had been part of you, as one with you as anyone could possibly be—physically, that is—and then, faster than a reluctantly cast Crucio, it had ended, his cum dripping out of you and soaking into the bedsheets. 

But it wasn't over. No, not yet. Ominis made certain of that.

He conjured two hand towels and tossed them. Both towels somehow landed squarely on your bare stomachs, slick with sweat, still heaving as you both tried to recover your breath. 

"Clean yourselves up," he said. 

Sebastian didn't budge, but he did manage to shoot back, "Not even a 'please'?" 

"I'm saving my 'pleases' for people who actually listen. Like him," he added, nodding toward you as you sat up, already doing as Ominis commanded. 

In all honesty, it hadn't quite been a conscious choice. When it came to anything of a sexual nature, obedience seemed etched into your very bones. Odd, sure, what with everything you'd managed to achieve at Hogwarts in the short time you'd attended, but true. 

Deed done, you rose, a bit unsteadily, to your feet. Ominis took your hands, gave them a firm squeeze, and led you to his side of the room, which was far less chaotic, his bed still immaculate, not a wrinkle in sight. That wouldn't last long though. He pushed you onto it, clambered atop you, and brought his mouth to yours, all but devouring you. 

You could hear Sebastian puttering around in the corner, then… silence. You were too lost in Ominis to glance Sebastian's way, but some part of you hoped he was watching.

There was a fleeting moment where it all felt too good, too exhilarating, too much, to be real, like your body had moved faster than your sense of disbelief. You hadn't even wanted to kiss Ominis until he'd been the one to confront you first about sneaking into their room, until he'd been the one to demand answers with that quiet, dangerous focus of his. 

"Explain yourself," he'd said, his voice taut. 

You'd flinched, though, rather inconveniently, your trousers had gone tight at the exact same moment. "I—well, erm—" you'd stammered, your grip stiffening around the stuffed bear you were hiding behind your back.

"You're stammering. And you're hard. Interesting combination."

By Jove! How in Merlin's name did he know? you'd thought, your mind racing through all the potential possibilities. Was Ominis's wand really as sentient as Sebastian had explained in your fifth year? 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking on you, traveling down to the offending body part. He smirked. Typical. "Subtle, very subtle," he teased. 

In hindsight, it made perfect sense that their interrogation—if it could even be called that—had such an effect on you. Confrontation was a rare occurrence for you these days. Most people steered clear, well aware that you were far more powerful than the average wizard.

But then again, most people weren't Sebastian Sallow or Ominis Gaunt. Clearly.

You dropped Sebastian's bear quietly behind you, praying they hadn't noticed, then stepped forward, toward Sebastian, a question in your eyes. Sebastian tilted his head, murmured, "Alright then," and just like that, the whole encounter had begun.

Now, back in the present, Ominis freed your lips from captivity, and your mouth hurried to his cock. Likewise, his large but slender hands made their steady way to you, settling on the shaft of yours. The two of you attended to each other—Ominis was, unsurprisingly, more generous than Sebastian—moving in tandem, his touch insistent, but also somehow gentler. You climaxed in unison: Ominis's pleasure quiet and controlled, yours loud and guttural. Sebastian had apparently joined in as well, for mere moments later, you heard him moan, low, nearly a growl, sounding like the bear of a young man that he was.

The bear! 

You tensed at the thought of it. You still wanted to claim Sebastian's most beloved possession—needed to, really, maybe even more so now than before, especially after Sebastian—and Ominis!—had claimed you in their own way. That had been the whole point of this grand escapade, hadn't it? 

"Now that that's done," Sebastian said, yanking you back to your senses. "Why were you in our room again?" 

You met his gaze, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Who says I wasn't here to do exactly what we just accomplished?"

Sebastian barked out a laugh. He turned to Ominis, who was sitting to your left beside you, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Well, whatever the reason," Sebastian said, waving his hand casually in the air, "you've certainly earned the right to return, should you feel inclined."

"Noted."

"But next time," Ominis piped in, "a little notice wouldn't hurt. Perhaps an owl, for formality's sake."

You leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "I'll consider it." You rose to your feet and glanced around for your scattered clothing.

As Sebastian and Ominis did the same, you smiled upon observing that your off-white shirt had—miracle of miracles!—ended up draped over Sebastian's bear. You slipped it on last, the fabric cool against your skin, and tucked the bear carefully behind your back. You backed toward the door, ever so cautious, hoping that your two Slytherins were too distracted to find your movement suspicious.

But just as your hand closed around the doorknob, Sebastian spoke. "You're hiding something."

You froze.

Ominis didn't even pause the careful fastening of the last button on his shirt. "It's Sebastian's bear, isn't it?"

Damn! How?  

You offered your best attempt at wide-eyed innocence. "What bear?"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "My bear, hm?" Well, at least he didn't seem too angry.

You shrugged, backing up another step. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Funny," Ominis said, stepping past you to open the door himself. As he did, his hand brushed against the concealed lump beneath your shirt. "Lying now, hm? After everything we did for you?" 

You sighed dramatically and tugged at your shirt, revealing just enough of the bear's ear to prove your guilt... to Sebastian at least, maybe even to Ominis, for all you knew. You were severely doubting now that he was actually blind. Perhaps he had been pulling a long con the past three years. You wouldn't put it past him.

"Fine," you said through a pout. "You caught me out. You win." But you didn't make a move to return the bear.

Sebastian laughed, then, to your complete and utter shock, waved you off.

"Keep my bear warm, then," he said. 

You blinked. "I intend to." You took a hesitant backwards step over the threshold, still not quite certain if he was being serious. 

You took another, and another, until you realized Sebastian had been serious. He wasn't stopping you. You still picked up your pace. Just in case. 

Ominis's voice trailed after you. "Send that owl next time, won't you?"

You paused, glanced back at the two of them, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, entirely too pleased with themselves—and with you.

"Don't worry," you said with a grin. "Next time, you'll know when I'm coming." 

Were you being entirely truthful? Perhaps, but also, perhaps not. That was up to you to decide. 

And with that, you disappeared down the corridor, stolen bear tucked under your arm, a dozen more dangerous ideas already forming in that brilliant mind of yours.

The door closed behind you with a soft click.

This particular adventure was over. But the game?

It was only just beginning.

[kyeomic]

top 10 posts yay (u can check here)

ive been into kpop since 2012 and have had approx 10 kpop blogs since then but i havent had one since 2021 so ive only been on caratblr since october after much debating whether i should make another blog and it's been fun :3

thank u for tagging me bex @baekhyunnybyun 💕 i assume everyones been tagged but @facethesuns @jeonsupershy @seoksoonwoo @vcrnons @chwedout @linoyes id love to see yours !

woozi's mama speech that i spent way too long on bc vapoursynth was killing me and then photoshop crashed and it was a whole thing

2. wonwoo watching dokyeom grill meat

3. kyeom arms

4. 겸 log moments

5. wonwoo and dokyeom cheer their son on

6. seungkwan and mingyu compare heights

7. dokyeom and latte

8. mingyu's 'oh' moment

9. the butt discussion

10. mingyu......

BONUS: this dokyeom set i want everybody to look at

[elisysd]

3. Wonder why you took a risk on a broken heart you cannot fix

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Purple Irises - Gwen Stefani, Blake Shelton 

Another DNF. On a track he loved and had witnessed him achieving great performances. But now, being out after not even a corner, it was painful. He knew he couldn’t have done anything to avoid it but still, it was a bitter feeling. And a feeling that didn’t go away when he saw you waiting for him, your mic ready. He hadn’t talked to you ever since that day at the restaurant, didn’t ask for your number, didn’t ask for your social media, didn’t ask for anything and a part of him regretted it. Kind of. He had promised to show you not everyone was untrustworthy but didn’t even think to ask for a means to contact you. He knew it was stupid but he hated empty promises. He was man of his word and to think he could let you down like everybody else was unsettling for him. 

He moved to you, Silvia by his side and gulped, bracing himself for a petty question that surprisingly didn’t come through.

“A very sad day for you Charles, can you tell us what happened with Lance?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been able to watch the images yet but I guess he thought he had space and clearly, it was not the case.”

“Two DNF in three races, it’s not the start of the season you hoped it would be. What are your plans for now?”

“See what went wrong and try to learn from it with the team. That’s the best we can do and we will come back stronger next time.”

“Thank you Charles.”

As she was cutting her microphone he saw you looking at him.

“I’m sorry about the race. Truly.”

“No teasing this time?” he asked, surprised.

“I’m not a heartless monster.” you replied as Silvia pushed him to go talk to other media.

The meeting with her team went nice. They talked a bit about race, debriefing each other's interventions of the day and looked at what they should have done better. You were happy when Marion told you that you had improved, your questions sharper and more precise, and happy, you had decided to wander the paddock in search of new information or to meet interesting new people. That is something you’ve always liked to do, hanging out somewhere to get the atmosphere and to have conversations with people who could provide you with new enlightenments about contracts, performances or any changes inside the teams. You had learned it while being in New-York, during one of your internships while you were covering  basketball games where your boss had told you to let your ears wander. A few words that you were clinging onto. Near the Mercedes hospitality, you had not expected to run into Mick who was coming out of it, a bottle of water in his hands. Out of habits you smiled at him, giving him a little nod which he took as an invitation to talk to you.

“Hey! I saw you around, right? The new interviewer for French TV?”

“That should be me, yes. Y/N, nice to meet you.” you greet him.

You found it surprisingly easy to talk to Mick. The discussion flowed, laughter could be heard from the other side of the paddock and soon the sun was setting. He was friendly, caring, and offered her to sit somewhere so they didn’t have to stand in the middle of the way.

“You know, I’m going to a bowling place tonight with some friends. Do you want to tag along?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s very professional of me.” 

“No pressure, of course. The offer stands but we all need to let go from time to time.” he added, winking at you before leaving.

You spent another half an hour debating with yourself on whether or not you should go. You could use some friends for sure, and Mick is not a bad guy, you know it.  He doesn’t have any hidden agenda behind his kindness, he just genuinely wants to get to know you and be your friend. And you saw how some journalists are buddy-buddy with the drivers, including in your own team. So why couldn’t you? You took a deep breath and decided that for once, you would have fun. And it had been a while since you had gone to a bowling area. You quickly went back to your hotel room to change into more comfortable clothes and you met Mick there. You recognised Esteban there as well and you were not surprised, you knew the two drivers were closed. 

You had fun. More fun than what you expected coming here. You sucked at bowling but it didn’t stop you from laughing. You also enjoyed Esteban’s calm confidence and how laid back he was. You told him you felt sorry about his crash with Pierre, Alpine could have realized something amazing out there.

“I know, I’m gutted. It’s not the start of the season we hoped it would be, for sure. But the season is long, so we have time to improve.”

“I’m sure it will keep on being better, Esteban. Trust your team.” Mick said, coming to them, a grin on his face. He sat down next to you before turning his head in your direction. “I’m glad you decided to come. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I’m happy I did, it’s been a while since I’ve felt this relaxed.” you confessed. “I don’t have many friends, I’m not good at making connections.”

“Well you have us, now.” Mick shrugged.

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll betray you?”

“Do you intend to?”

“No.” you admitted after a few seconds.

“Then it’s all good.” he smiled.

“You trust people easily, you know. A little too easily.”

“A few years ago, I wasn’t like that. I was doubting everyone and everything. I thought people only wanted to be around me because of my dad and not because of me. And then I decided to stop caring because usually those people end up leaving at the first obstacle. It’s better to give people a chance than being closed off. My friends are basically my second family, my home away from home. I’m a family guy, it’s tough for me to be away from them, so that’s why my friends are so important.”

“I’m not that close to my family.” you confessed and your heart wrenched at the thought.

“Because of your job?”

“That and I made a few mistakes in the past that really altered our relationship. And a lot of regrets, mostly about my brother. When you’re halfway across the world, it’s tough to be there when he needs you most. I should have been there for him.”

“It’s never too late to fix things.”

You gave him a sad smile and a shrug. You don’t want to bother him with your complicated family’s stories. And frankly, you don’t want to think about them.

“I understand you know, the regrets. I have so many when I think about my dad. I’ve never told him I loved him enough,  I should have told him everyday. I even regret things that are so far ahead in the future, like my wedding, my first kid… I often think about how he won’t be completely there to see all of that.” he bitterly said. 

“At least he is there. Even if it’s not how you want it.”

“I guess.”

When you ended up leaving, after this very heartfelt conversation, you felt somehow relieved. Maybe he was right, you didn’t have to assume the worst about people. You took your phone out of your pocket and looked at your lock screen. A picture of you and your brother. You smiled tenderly, you missed him. 

Coming back to Paris and to your flat felt weird after such magical weeks. The gloomy weather made you regret the sun on your skin and you definitely didn’t miss the messy public transportation. Your days were filled with preparing the next races, organizing a few livestreams here and there where you invited fans to talk about the first few races of the season. And thanks to your connection at Alpine and the good relationship you had started to build with the drivers you even managed to get an interview from Pierre where you get to talk about his first weeks in his new team. It had been a nice and chill discussion more than an interview and you were happy to see that people had liked the concept and hoped you would keep it going with other people.

Despite how happy you were feeling about your week, it had still been a busy one and you couldn’t wait to go home and hop in your shower to relax before going out again to meet your best friend in a nice parisian restaurant. You arrived earlier than her and got to your table as the waiter gave you the menu and asked if you wanted to drink something. You ordered a Martini and started to wait for her, scrolling on your phone to pass the time. But as if fate had decided to play with you tonight, right when you decided to lift your chin, you saw him entering the restaurant. Charles Leclerc. And in good company if you could judge by the brunette walking right behind him. A date you thought to yourself. You unconsciously sat further down in your seat in hope he wouldn’t recognise you. You couldn’t help but give him little glances, your curiosity getting the best out of you. It didn’t last long, though, as your friend soon arrived and Charles wasn’t in your mind anymore.

“You have so many things to tell me and I have so many questions for you!”

You laughed. She has always been your number one supporter no matter what you were going through in your life. You didn’t expect anything else from her. Happily, you told her everything, even the slightest detail.

“So, who is the hottest? And is there anyone who is single?” she whispered to you as if you were both part of a gigantic conspiracy.

“I don’t know, I don’t really think about it. And I don’t have the mental space for that.”

She knew what you were implying. She knew all too well. She put a hand on yours and squeezed it gently before diverting the discussion to a lighter topic. The conversation flowed until your friend received a call. She quickly apologized to take it in a quieter space and came back a few minutes later, biting her lip, visibly worried.

“I got a call from my mom… my grandmother fell at home and she hit her head. She is at the hospital… I’m sorry I have to cut our dinner short, but…”

“Dont. I understand. Go.” you reassured her as she threw her arms around you and kissed your cheek before making her way out.

He was fed up. Clearly, he was not having the time of his life. The girl right in front of him had been sent by Ferrari and Silvia in another attempt to set him up with someone. No pressure, she had told him, she just wanted him to meet her and who knows? Maybe they would hit it off. And if it wasn’t the case, then she would leave him alone. For now. So he had agreed, a few weeks of peace seemed like a good option.

But he was bored out of his mind. The girl, who seemed nice, he had nothing against her, was agreeing to everything he was saying and was waiting for him to hold the conversation. He hated that. He needed someone who could challenge him, someone who didn’t care about who he was and clearly the brunette in front of him wasn’t what he wanted. They weren’t even at the main course that she had already mentioned the growth of her following and the new opportunities being seen with him would bring her, if they decided to date. He hated it. And he didn’t intend to spend one more minute in her presence. When the waiter came to take their order, he looked him straight in the eyes.

“You know, come to think of it, I’m not hungry. Can I have the bill instead?”

He knew it was a dick move, and if his mother would hear of it she would most certainly give him an earful. But it would still be more enjoyable than sitting there. He apologized, quickly made sure that the girl knew he had no interest in going out with her another day and made his way out to pay. That’s when he noticed you, alone, sipping on your drink. He could laugh. Out of all places, he had to cross your path. As if acting on their own, his feet carried him to your table.

“Fancy, seeing you here.” he said, making you look up. He expected to see a surprised look on your face but it wasn’t the case. You didn’t take your eyes off of him, making him slightly uncomfortable. “What are you doing here, all alone? A date who hasn’t shown up?”

“I was supposed to meet my friend but she couldn’t stay for long, an emergency came up. So here I am, sipping my drink, alone. It’s okay. I’m enjoying my very own company. And that very tasteful assortment of pastries. I most likely won’t be able to eat that alone, though.” you shrugged, putting a piece of chocolate cake in your mouth.

“You know, I’m in a mood for sweet… care to share?”

You were about to offer him to sit with you when he quickly recalled that his date was still there.

“Actually, would you mind getting a doggy bag and going elsewhere to eat? I kind of want to get the hell out of here.”

“Your date wasn’t that good, I assume then.” you said as a matter of fact.

“How did you…”

“I have eyes. I saw you.”

“You saw me…” he repeated, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I was facing the door.”

And suddenly he felt stupid about trying to see a deeper meaning in her words than what she intended to.

Out of the restaurant, they both wandered along the docks, enjoying the fresh air and the almost empty streets, the bag of cakes between them as they were sharing in a natural way. Almost as if they had done it all their life. Charles told her all about his very bad date and enjoyed making her laugh.

“Glad to see my very poor and inexistent love life is entertaining.” he smiled.

“It really is. I mean, look at you. You have the fame, the money, the good looks you could have anyone you wanted and here you are, having the exact same issues as us common people.”

“Believe it or not, but dating has become harder and harder the more famous I become. Whatever that means. We are all searching for the same thing, at the end of the day and famous or not. We want someone to complete us. Someone we feel good with.”

“Yeah, it’s not easy to find.”

“Clearly not.”

They kept walking in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

“I’m shocked you don’t try to pry or snoop around. You could ask so many questions about the season and try to get insides… but you don’t. Why?”

“I’m outside of my job hours. Right now, I’m just Y/N and not Y/N the very insufferable journalist. And you hate my questions, it’s me who should be shocked that you want to hear them.”

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t understand why I seem to be the only one to be on the receiving end of your bluntness. Every freaking time.” he defended himself.

You let out a sigh.

“They are legitimate questions and they are always validated by the team before being asked, if something was out of line they would tell me and I wouldn’t ask them.” you simply said.

Charles felt that there must be something else, something she wasn’t saying but they didn’t know each other well enough for him to dare ask her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her repressing a yawn.

“It’s late, do you need someone to drive you back home safely?” he asked.

“No.” she immediately said. “I mean, it’s kind of you, really. This whole hour talking felt nice but I’m not sure it’s something that should have happened. I know I can make friends with drivers, and some journalists do it, but I don't think I can, personally. That’s just not how it works for me. It would make my job harder and I need a clear mind to focus.” you tried to explain, perfectly aware of how hypocritical you sound.

“Do you say the same things to all drivers or do I receive special treatment?”

You opened and closed your mouth. You didn’t want to lie to him and somehow he read it in your eyes that it’s not that you didn’t want to have friends among the drivers. You just didn’t want to be his friend. And somehow it hurt more than what he expected.

Author's note: Happy first GP of the season! To celebrate it, here's the new chapter! I hope you liked it.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism

[amadeusgame]

Those of you who stopped by the Amadeus booth at MAGWest may remember that there was a "guest book" there folks were invited to sign. In this book were left some of the most inspiring, kind, heartfelt, and beautiful words I've ever read. I've debated whether or not it's appropriate to post the entries anywhere and have largely decided not to, but I do look at them frequently as a source of motivation, and I am immensely grateful to everybody who took the time to sign it.

I will post this particular entry, however, because @internetkatze truly captured Amadeus's energy...

...and because it's a good way to shill that this blog has a #fan art tag now! This is mostly so I can stare at these fondly and repeatedly, but now you can stare at them fondly too.

Amadeus: A Riddle for Thee ~ Episode 1 ~ Waltz feature-complete demo is out!

[winds-of-zephyr416]

Oh, oh, I'd love to see a snippet and/or read a summary or explanation of "Now They Are Everyone Else's Problem" ;D

Also, thanks for tagging me <3 <3 <3

No problem :D

“Now they’re everyone else’s problem” is the working title of another cracky angbang oneshot lol. It was one of those ideas that struck at 10 pm and kept me up til 12 writing it, as a lot of my other oneshots are

Basically, the fic is from Gothmog’s perspective as he and Thuringwethil pester torment help Melkor after he makes a fool of himself in front of Mairon. It’s self-indulgent memey crack to the highest degree, and Gothmog is not helping in the slightest :P

It’s like, a quarter finished at this point? Currently Melkor and Mairon’s inability to be normal about each other is pretty self-contained to Angband, but I’m debating on whether or not to extend “everybody else” to the good guys too. Something about Melkor and Mairon making Manwë cringe with the sheer level of their awkwardness gives me life xD

Hmmm, I don’t really have too many good snippets from it since it’s very incomplete, buuuuut….

This pretty much embodies it, I think.

[swiftllama]

September Compliments ☀️🔍

[Compliments Masterlist]

Hey guys! Back for another month! A month of a lot of small compliments sprinkled throughout this time around, but we still got quite a few full-on great complimentary moments. One in particular was very special 🥰

So let's get into it...

September 2023

Thinking OUTSIDE The Box (Herd Mentality)

Right off the bat, first day of the month, we got a Games video, and this video actually started off a theme throughout this month. The boys were in quite a few videos where they were playing games this month and were either competing against or working as a team so we got a lot of them complimenting each other on a job well down, plus the bestie-ism was shining through :-

Q: 'Name a brand beginning with an A’

Anthony: "I went to clothing for some reason."

lan: "Oh then I know what you did then."

Anthony: "Do you?'

lan: "You went to clothing.”

~

Anthony: "I put American Eagle. I'm thinking mall culture."

lan: [nodding] “I was thinking- I actually thought you'd either put American Eagle or All Saints."

-

Q: 'Name an animal beginning with a P’

lan: "I'm giggling [at his answer]."

Anthony: "I think I know why you're giggling.”

~

lan: "I put p**sy!"

Anthony: "I knnnew."

-

Anthony: "Did you [lan] just win?"

lan: "Oh!'

Anthony: "That's a win!" [cheering and clapping] "Yoooo! Because the nose [lan's answer for that round] knows!'

-

Q: 'Out of all the animals in the world, which is the cutest?'

lan: "I said cat."

Anthony: "I said kitten."

[everyone debating whether it counts as the same animal]

Anthony: "Also Ian," [shows him his card] "I wrote cat and crossed it out. I almost wrote it."

-

Q: 'Who is the toughest Disney princess?'

lan: "I did, I think her name is Merida?"

Anthony: "I put the one from Brave."

lan: "Oh!"

Anthony: "Yeah!"

I actually made a post of this moment because it was so cute! How excited they were they had the same answer and also Anthony's little tap dance when he realises 😊

l also loved Angela pointing it out :-

Angela: "Wait, that was so cool that you both said that really random one."

Chanse: "That is fun. Yeah."

Anthony: "Yeah."

lan: "She's tough."

Anthony: "But isn't she- she's like an archer."

Angela: "Sure, but like nobody talks about that movie."

Jackie: "I thought of it too, but I was like 'That's too much of a deep cut.'"

What did I say about the bestie-ism shining through? 🥰

-

lan: "Hey everybody. Here's a good one, Anthony I feel like you and I are gonna be aligned on this one."

Q: 'Name a rapper'

~

lan: "I said Drake."

Anthony: "I wrote Snoop Dogg."

So obviously not the same answer but very cute how lan thought they would be on the same wavelength and he gives the reason as to why he thought that :-

lan: "So Anthony and I played a, we played a fun little game yesterday, where we went on Spotify and we were trying to guess who were the top artists, because it ranks them-"

Literally awing out loud! the fact they were just playing that game together, it wasn't for a video or anything, just something they were doing together in their free time 🥹

Bonus - HELP! I became an NPC!

So this next moment doesn't really fall under the 'compliment' umbrella, but it is something that has become a sub-genre of these posts - is the 'daddy’ thing. Yep, you guessed it folks, Anthony was at it once again. Although, like in the 'You Posted That' episode, he's switching it up and now he's referring to himself as 'daddy’ :-

Anthony: [face appearing as if through a phone screen like in the main sketch]

lan: [pretends to put his fingers up Anthony's nose and then into his mouth]

Anthony: "Ooooh, daddy like."

Why are they like this 🤦‍♀️

Also I think @lilac-hecox & @only-frann summed up a perfect description of this Compliments Series :-

Hope you guys don't mind me tagging you, but this is literally what this series is 😄

Anyways, that was just a jokey little one, but as I said, it's now a 'thing' of these posts so I couldn't not include it.

Moving on...

We Already Regret This Embarrassing Photoshoot ft. Smosh

The boys went back on Good Mythical Morning for the first time in almost 8 years, and although this time around we didn't get any frosting foot massages or Titanic re-enactments there was a few compliment-adjacent moments :-

Link: [talking about the photo they had to re-create] "And lan, I gotta give it to you, man. You remembered a lot."

Anthony: "He did! The glasses. The shirt."

-

Anthony: "I'm feeling good about that one [their photo]."

lan: "I'm feeling good."

And then we got one of their high-five/hand-grip moments that they do a lot.

-

[lan and Anthony announced as the winners]

Anthony: "Yeeeah!'

Another high-five, of course

Anthony: "Yeah! Let's go!'

They just absolutely live for congratulating each other on anything and everything now and it's very sweet. And there's more to come!

Food Battle 2011 - Flashback w/ Smosh

As they're rewatching Food Battle 2011, lan points out in one of the shots how his cross-country team photo can be seen in the background :-

Anthony: "That's you lined up with all the cross-country... pals.

Oop was that jealous!anthony shining through a little there 🫢

lan: [laughs] "Pals."

Anthony: "Backlit. Looking epic."

So again, just another small little compliment, but lan's cross-country/running is brought up again and praised/complimented by Anthony in...

HELP! I became an NPC! Watch Party

[discussing how American sports are confusing]

Anthony: "I feel like Smosh and sports just don't mix in my brain."

lan: [laughs] “What sport do you think that aligns the most with Smosh?"

They go through multiple silly suggestions between the two of them and ones they read from the chat, before lan suggests :-

lan: “I feel like, and it's probably just because I did it, but cross-country. Smosh is cross-country."

Anthony: "Just cause you're part of Smosh and you did it?"

lan: "And you just keep going, and you just keep going. Just keep running."

Anthony: "Is that how you felt doing Smosh even when I left?"

lan: “Yeah. Like just gotta keep going. Just one more mile. One more mile."

Oh lan 🥺 I just had to pause to react to that before I get to the complimentary part of this conversation, but that's so sad. But also a perfect description of what I imagine it was like for him during those times when Anthony was gone. Having to remind himself to just keep going and pushing forward regardless.

Anthony: "What was your longest run?"

lan: "I did a marathon."

Anthony: “Yeah, I remember you ran past my street and I woke up bright and early, and I was like [pretends to be half asleep and waves].”

lan: [smiling] “Yeah, yeah I did."

Anthony: "How long was that run?"

lan: "26.2 miles."

Anthony: "Daaaamm, I didn't know [the] marathon was 26.2 miles, shiiiit.”

lan: “Yeah, and I averaged a little under an 8 minute mile.”

Anthony: “That is not bad. For 20 times 26?! That's good!"

So couple things to cover here!

1. Anthony waking up early to catch lan run by his street so he could wave to him CAN YOU HEAR ME CRYING 😭 that's the cutest thing ever!

2. Anthony saying how good of a time lan got in the marathon is so sweet. I live for Anthony bigging him up 🥹

Anthony's Birthday

This next lot I'd call complimentary-by-extension. Anthony's birthday rolled around and in typical lan fashion this was the birthday tweet we got from him :-

Oh lan, wouldn't expect anything else from you 😅

Thought that was going to be it but then Mr. Padilla came through for us! And this was the particularly special moment I mentioned in the beginning of this post. He made the post linked in the main header of this section, thanking everyone for the birthday wishes and said how it had been Mykie and his anniversary the week previous and how she took him to the Grand Canyon. The post was all photos of the two of them, but in amongst it all, he included this gem :-

lan 💛

Isn't this just the softest thing.

I mean...

1. We finally get to see lan interacting with Anthony's dogs 🙌 Also the fact you can tell how comfortable they must be around him given the fact she's laying on his chest quite content which means lan is around them often enough to have that bond with them 🥹

2. The fact they spent Anthony's birthday together after so many years of birthdays unshared & it also makes Ian's tweet funnier, like him being next to Anthony, realising people are probably expecting him to publicly wish him 'happy birthday’, him writing the most basic tweet with a low-quality gif, posting it, and then going right back to hanging out with Anthony 😆

Aaaaand…...

3. Probably the softest thing about this, and where I'm going to get a bit emotional writing/thinking about it because I have a lot of feelings about it, is the fact Anthony included that photo of lan within his birthday/anniversary post. It's just so unbelievably soft. I cannot get over it. There was was no mention of lan in the caption or anywhere else, it was all photos of Anthony and Mykie, but within it, this one little candid shot of lan. It's so special. And says a lot without explicitly saying anything at all. It's just like, 'here's a post of things that matter to me.’ I like to imagine Anthony choosing the photos for that post, and even with it being a birthday/anniversary post, he still made the conscious decision to include that photo of lan. Something he didn't need to do, the photo wasn't relevant to the post, and yet, he included it anyways. He wants people to know that's how he spent his birthday, with the people he loves most - he couldn't not include that photo of lan. And I think it comes back around to the fact he's just so happy to have lan in his life again and he'll take every opportunity to say/show it. I can picture him sitting there looking at lan laying on his floor across from him, his dog on lan's chest, and his heart just feeling so full and happy at the fact he has his best friend with him again when a year ago he didn't think this would ever be a reality for him again. It's just so, so special ❤️

Finishing off Anthony's birthday was something that came a few days after :-

Anthony's response to lan's birthday tweet ☺️

What I also love about this, is the fact that lan never tagged Anthony in his tweet and given it was a few days later that Anthony responded and by that point the tweet would have been buried in his timeline, and also that Anthony barely uses Twitter. Knowing all these things it's very likely that Anthony searched for lan's account for him to see that tweet 🥰

POKEMON ROOMMATE BATTLE Watch Party

In the BTS for the POKEMON ROOMMATE BATTLE sketch lan keeps getting distracted playing Pokémon for the whole shoot, eventually getting the gameboy taken off of him by Erin 😅 In this livestream they're watching the sketch and Anthony says :-

[scene where 'lazy lan' is sitting in the beanbag playing Pokémon not wanting to move]

Anthony: “This is actually what you were like on set that day cause you were just playing Pokémon the whole day."

lan: "Oh yeah, so we rented that prop from like a prop house."

Anthony: “The gameboy."

lan: "The gameboy. And it was working - it was full battery, Pokémon Red was in it, and I booted it up and was like ‘There's no way. No. No’. and I was just straight up playing Pokémon on and it was-"

Anthony: "Was it everything you remembered?"

lan: "It was sick, dude. It was fun. I was having fun. I was getting really distracted and it was not good for the shoot. But I think I got my Charmander to like level 11 or 12."

Anthony: "Yeah, you nailed it."

Just a cute little compliment I felt should be included 🙂 But sticking with the Pokémon theme, it leads me on to the next compliment...

‘I Choose You' Smosh Hat

Anthony posted this Instagram promoting the Smosh Pokémon-style hat they released as merch, but what stood out to a lot of us is his choice of the first photo + the caption :-

THE IMPLICATIONS! Him crowning lan with the hat and him saying ‘I choose you' 🥹 It reminds me of something I covered in my first Compliments post - the section covering the Smoshcast with Anthony and Shayne saying how they came back together and "choose to be best friends again" 💛🖤

Our Actual Worst Puns (Puns of Anarchy)

Another round of games and compliment-adjacent moments :-

Ian: [handing the cards out]

Anthony: "Oh, look at you. You're providing for your family.”

Just found this moment cute, Anthony referring to them as a family 🥹

[Jackie chooses Anthony's card and he reveals it's his]

Jackie: "I take it back."

Anthony: “I'm also 'Hand Solo' though, so [the other card Jackie was going to pick]?

Arasha: "I'm so pissed [because Anthony is winning]."

Ian: "Wow. Anthony's cleaning up” [claps]

-

[Round Category: Baby Boomers]

Ian's card -' A Whole New World' changed to 'A new video of an old, white person freaking out’

Anthony: [picks Jackie's card] “That was good. Although, I will say, I know this was yours, lan [from his handwriting]. That was an adventure, man. I appreciate that."

This isn't the only time the handwriting thing is brought up in the video :-

Keith: "Dude, where's my car?' turns into, 'Dude, where's my car? Oh wait, I can't drive?’ By far the best one, lan. And I know this came from you."

Anthony: "I know it came from lan too, cause I can see the handwriting."

Why is Anthony being able recognise Ian's handwriting so cute. He just knows him so well ☺️

One other moment I loved from this video was something I already made a post about here. Of Jackie referring to them as 'best friends' and Anthony laughing the hardest at his answer firing shots at lan, again, bestie-ism shining through 😄

Joycon HIDE AND SEEK (Everybody 1, 2, Switch)

Last one of the month! This video was full of so many great moments - two lanthony piggybacks, so many bestie moments, and them just being overly cute the whole time 🥰

And also many moments of them complimenting each other on doing well in the games. So many that I decided to compile a little video. Enjoy! :-

And that was it for September!

Hope you all enjoyed and I shall see you next time ❤️

[poetrywise]

Life, sort of

I can't access Twitter lately, so I thought mb I should try to be more active here. Yes, I know I said it before, but my VPN hasn't been working for weeks and I kind of miss people. I miss life, in general. For the past nearly 2 years, life has been hell in my country: mass arrests, toxic propaganda, army drafts, idiotic laws, silencing the media and public opinion, to say nothing of the horror we have been inflicting on another country. I don't know about most people but I do feel ashamed and depressed, even though I am, have always been, and always will be staunchly anti-war. Seriously, how have people not learnt to solve their disagreements in a less insane way over the course of our history?

Today, yet another "great" news: LGBT is now considered an extremist organization. They've done all they could to torment queer people short of criminalizing queerness itself. They keep promoting so-called "traditional" values, debating whether women should be allowed access to higher education (I kid you not, this is us in the 21st century) and abortion, all the while wasting 40% of the budget on war; in the meantime, all their beloved "traditional" families live in poverty and find their social support cut. You can get 7, 15, 30 years in prison for changing price tags in a supermarket to anti-war statements, staging an anti-war play, digging into government corruption. Children are being force-fed "patriotic" claptrap at school. Bloggers get fined, arrested or forced to leave the country because they fear for their safety. Life here is a cruel joke.

I know that I personally have little reason to complain, since I haven't been arrested (yet), nor have any of my loved ones. But it doesn't mean I don't get panic attacks (I had them before, I've been seeing a therapist for 6 years, and this situation IS derailing my progress) or fear for the future. My personal future feels ruined too: I can't travel, I can't see my BFF who lives abroad, I can't get paid for my stories even if I do manage to publish them (I write in English and have had 4 stories published in America, but we can neither send, nor accept payment from abroad lately). All this feels so small compared to what other people go through, in both our countries, but it's big to ME. I can't look into the future with any kind of hope because I don't want to live in the country that makes its people and another nation suffer. (Don't get me started on actual things our politicians say, like: Well, if smb drops a nuke on us, it'll be fine, as long as it's not on the capital. [FYI, I live in the capital, but it doesn't mean turning the rest of the country into a nuclear wasteland is fine by me. WUT EVEN!])

Everyone hates my country. We deserve it. I hate my own inability to change that but I'm neither brave, nor smart enough to do anything. When it all started, I tried writing letters to politicians, but this ain't America, nb listens to the people here. The only reply I got was smth like: Well, the West is threatening us, we must defend ourselves, so STFU. Idk what bizarre illusionland these ppl live in. Last time I checked WE were threatening everybody. Including ourselves.

What's the point of this TL;DR? Idk. To speak out in some way, I guess. Like I said, my VPN isn't working, and I can't access Twitter, which is my usual platform for whining XD I'll try to post smth more positive some time. Among other platforms that don't work without VPN are: Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, Goodreads, AO3, various torrent sites, BBC sites, many kinds of Western media, and probably a hell of a load more I don't know about. I admire the reporters who are still publishing the truth. It's impossible to hide it from the people these days, but unfortunately, most people just watch TV, which spouts disgusting lies and propaganda.

Nostalgia is a fashionable thing lately, and here's my two cents: I loved the late 90s - early 2000s. Yes, we had problems then too. Like financial crises and local wars. But we had freedom of speech, independent news, we at least tried to respect human rights, we could travel, we had cultural exchanges, foreign tourists, and nb hated us more than any other country. I wasn't ashamed to admit where I was from. I never felt I'd be stuck in a totalitarian state because surely, surely we'd learned! We'd been through it and it wouldn't repeat again. But I guess "all of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again" is a very true saying. I'm so tired. I'm sure I'm not the only one, but I do feel very alone whenever I read the news. I'm lucky in the sense that my family at least shares my opinion, but on a grand scale? I don't know if any meaningful change can be achieved when we can't even form proper opposition: a few parties/organizations both here and abroad are usually at each other's throats instead of working together. So yeah, I'm tired, disappointed, depressed, and idk what else to say.

Wow, hope I don't get arrested for this XD

[frillyfacefins]

You're Still My Pretty Little Bird (Lucifer/Paimon)

Fandom: Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel Rating: Explicit Pairing: Lucifer/Paimon Tags: immediately post-mastermind, Paimon „more obedient to Lucifer than the other Kings are“ Goetia, Dom/sub, submissive Paimon, Dominant Lucifer, Paimon has a cloaca, Size Difference, Extremely Established Relationship, Dirty Talk, Verbal Humiliation, Some worldbuilding, Come Inflation, Very light but still, Orgasm Control Word Count: 3,945

Also on AO3

Summary:

Paimon won't stand for Satan's remarks about Lucifer, but since the Goetic bureaucracy makes it impossible for him to confront Satan directly, he tries to convince Lucifer to put Satan in his place. Lucifer, however, honestly couldn't care less about all of that drama. But when Paimon keeps insisting, Lucifer decides that it might be Paimon instead who needs to be put in his place again...

"And everybody saw it!" Paimon groused, gesticulating wildly as he paced from one side of the room to the next. "He just had to broadcast his hubris all over hell!" His neck hackles were fluffed up, which made his inner collar sit a little crooked. It was obvious that he was agitated, more agitated than Lucifer had seen him in centuries, but honestly, Lucifer found himself very uninterested in his grievances. He was sanding down a pair of apple-shaped newel caps for the staircase in Charlie's hotel, and he was still thinking about whether he should just lacquer it in the same color as the staircase or in a complimentary color, so he really didn't have the mental capacity to listen to Paimon's complaints about Satan, or about Satan's little stunt, for that matter.

"Mhmm..." he said for the eighth time in the last half hour when Paimon stopped talking for a few seconds, which meant that he wanted some kind of response from him. Lucifer knew Paimon like the back of his own hand; he had re-assembled him after their fall from Heaven had done a bad number on him, and Paimon had been a faithful companion and sometime-lover ever since. There were plenty of things they didn't agree on, of course, but other than some of the other Goetian kings – not to speak of the other Sins – Paimon had the very pleasant habit of always deferring to Lucifer in the end, and quite happily, even if he sometimes liked to be, well... "persuaded".

"Your Majesty, I implore you to go and chastise that... that wretch! You know that I would go on your behalf, but I need to abide by the rules of the Goetic court, and who knows how long it will take for me to get permission to enter his palace now that the Directorate of Hieromancy has rotated to Beleth's turn and the Interlocutory Committee is still debating the deliminations of the chairman's responsibilities... If I could get an invitation, that would be something different, of course, but if he invited me, of course I couldn't go, lest he believes that I submit myself to his puny authority..."

It was starting to feel like this was one of those times.

"Paimon," Lucifer said with a lazy sigh. The Goetic king immediately stopped in his tracks and turned to him. Lucifer could feel the hope emanating from him without even looking in his direction. "I am not going to drag myself all the way down to Wrath just to dress down Satan for being a self-aggrandizing asshole. I mean, he is basically paying homage to my own sin, too."

"But Your Majesty –"

Lucifer sighed again and put down the newel cap on the table next to his couch. He swung his legs down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, to finally look at Paimon.

"I don't understand why you care so much about my 'reputation', Paimon, when even I myself don't. Do you really think a little melodrama like Satan claiming to be older or more powerful than me is in any way a threat to my power or my standing?" He raised his eyebrows to give Paimon a searching look, then he closed in for the kill. "Do you really think I am so weak that Satan's words alone could harm me?"

Paimon still looked flustered, but this time for very different reasons. "Your Majesty, I would never, but... this doesn't just concern... If he can malign your honored name so much and not face any consequences, how will the other kings and I even raise our heads before the Sins? The division of our power only works by the grace of Your Majesty's authority, who knows if he or another one of them is going to transgress again?"

Lucifer groaned and threw his head back, bumping against the back of the couch. "Paimon, I am sick and tired of those little squabbles between your fellows and the Sins... I have made Asmodeus both a Sin and a King of the Goetia for a reason, and that reason is that I don't want to be pulled into every tiny conflict, and I allowed Satan to take over the role of superior judge so I wouldn't have to deal with every minor transgression among the Hellborn. I give the Sins as much leeway as I do precisely because I don't care about their transgressions, as long as they don't actively threaten the substance of Hell itself. That's also the reason why I gave you, Baal and all the other Goetic kings full authority over your own offspring, and why I implemented the legion system. If any of my subordinates is greedy, or jealous, or prideful, why would I care? I know every single one of them better than they know themselves."

He had already said way more than he had wanted to say, but there was still doubt and anger on Paimon's face. Lucifer could see the muscles in his throat move, as if he was about to speak again.

He took the very moment when he opened his beak to interrupt him.

"I am getting the feeling that you aren't satisfied with my arrangements, Paimon?" He changed his eye color from yellow to red with a blink and put a slight reverberation into his voice. "You aren't trying to defy my decisions, are you?"

Paimon opened and closed his beak a few times, making him look like a stranded parrotfish. "Your Majesty, I would never!" he finally wheezed.

Lucifer let out another sigh and returned his eye-color to yellow. He leaned back and draped one arm over the back of the couch, his other hand still on one of his thighs. He wasn't wearing shoes or a coat, and the collar of his shirt and the first few buttons of his vest were open. He tilted his head to the side a little while he watched Paimon. There was still frustration and fear in his eyes, but now that he was lolling on the couch like that, he could see the glimmer of a far more attractive emotion in their red glow.

He allowed himself a slow, lazy grin.

"I'm not sure if I believe you," he said on a deep, vibrating purr.

Paimon puffed up again. "My king, you can't possibly have any doubts about my devotion to you!"

"Devotion, sure." Lucifer draped his other arm over the back of the couch as well, then rolled his neck as if to relieve tension. "I'm very much doubting your obedience, though."

He lifted one of his hooves and pointed it towards Paimon, who was frozen with outrage.

"You might need to convince me, dear boy..." He raked his gaze from Paimon's legs up his body until it met his eyes. Paimon was still frozen, but now the white of his pupils had expanded so much that only a ring of red was left between them and the black of his sclera. Lucifer could feel the shift in his energy, his essence forever intermingled with Lucifer's power and Hell itself in a way only one other person was.

Paimon was waiting for his orders. He knew better than to assume what Lucifer wanted from him, even if he did, most of the time – at least when they were in this kind of situation.

"Take off the coat, and then get on your knees," Lucifer said. He kept his voice in a lazy purr, though with a tiny bit of steel behind it. Paimon liked to feel like Lucifer wasn't giving him any room to argue, that every command of his had to be followed as surely as a knife slicing living flesh had to draw blood.

It was mostly an agreed-upon illusion, of course. While Paimon wouldn't be able to actually harm him, Lucifer couldn't just make him follow orders with only a word. If Paimon wanted to defy him, Lucifer would have to use a not insubstantial amount of his magic to subdue him. Nothing like that had ever happened in any other context than a game Paimon desired to play, a kind of reassurance he needed every once in a century, just to know that there was still somebody who could push him down and burn him to ashes if he wanted to.

This wasn't that kind of evening, though. Paimon let his coat float off his body and towards the hallway, where it surely would find a suitable hook, then he fell to his knees in front of Lucifer and pressed a sharp, beaky kiss to the fur above Lucifer's hoof.

Lucifer hooked his hoof into the arm hole of his waistcoat and pulled. Paimon obediently came closer, still on his knees, until he was kneeling between Lucifer's thighs. In their current shapes, their difference in size was so substantial that with Paimon kneeling with his back straight and Lucifer lounging on the couch, they were on the exact same eye-level. Paimon seemed to notice that at the same moment as Lucifer did, because he quickly cowered just enough to make himself smaller – which gave Lucifer an idea.

"Stay in position," he growled. "Also, get rid of all of... that..." He waved towards his clothing. "I want to see every feather on that beautiful body I gave you."

Strictly speaking, he hadn't given Paimon this body, exactly; he had given him enough energy and power to let him forge his essence into various corporeal shapes. But his words sent a visible shiver down Paimon's body, and what was the harm in some crass simplification if it made Paimon wet and needy?

Paimon's clothes vanished in a far more unceremonious way than his coat; they just dissolved and then reconstituted in a corner of the room, neatly folded on a chair.

Lucifer grinned again, then he let his tongue run over his fangs. He didn't have to give him a verbal command; a small nod was enough to make Paimon undo the buttons and laces of his trousers and pull out first his shirt tails, then his still soft cock.

If Paimon had been in another one of his shapes, maybe the pretty human one he'd favored during the second-to-last century, or the lion one, Lucifer would have pushed his head down and fucked his throat for a little while before he went on to the next stage of the little game he had in mind. But even though he didn't exactly feel pain in the way even hellspawn did, beaks were still a very inconvenient sort of opening for that specific type of fun. So he allowed Paimon to simply wet his cock with his tongue, always careful not to touch it with the sharp, hooked tip of his owl-beak while he licked from the base to the tip and back down again while Lucifer watched him with half-closed eyes.

While not quite as wonderful as ducks, owls really were fascinating things. He had been part of the angelic chorus that had created them, even though he hadn't had as much input on their design as he had had on his favorite waterfowl. He still loved everything about them – the elegant cut of their wings that let them move completely soundlessly, the asymmetrical placement of their ears that let them hear everything in what humans nowadays would call surround-sound, the wonderfully clever synergy of their vertebrae and extra arteries that allowed them to turn their head to such a degree... It still never failed to excite him to see Paimon suddenly turn his head around while he was fucking him from behind.

He also loved those soft, long feathers on his head, loved to grab them and pull them and…

Paimon let out a pitiful moan as his beak slid off Lucifer's cock. Lucifer hadn't even noticed that he had closed his fist around his crest, but now that he already had the momentum, he kept dragging him upwards until Paimon understood and stood up.

Lucifer wrapped his own clawed fingers around his cock and stroked it slowly while he took a good look at Paimon. He could smell how wet he was already, which made the fact that Paimon was standing with his thighs pressed together nearly an act of disobedience worth serious punishment.

Later, maybe. For now, he just reached out and pushed his claws in between his closed thighs.

"You really should know better by now than to hide from me," he said on a dangerously soft purr. The scent of black demonic blood, heavier and less sweet than human blood, mixed in with the fragrance of Paimon's arousal.

A deep shiver of pain, pleasure or both ran through Paimon's body, and he obediently stepped his feet apart to give Lucifer better access to his dripping wet cloaca. Lucifer immediately shoved two fingers inside, not bothering with retracting his claws. He finger-fucked Paimon for a few moments, until his pretty little bird started making adorable little hoot-like sounds, then he pulled his hand back out and licked the mix of slick and blood off his fingers.

His eyes were still not leaving Paimon for a second. He looked so fucking good like this, chest and shoulders heaving, talons balled to fists to keep himself from touching anything until he was told to, shiny slick matting the thinner, softer feathers on the inside of his thighs…

His cock gave a little twitch, and Lucifer stroked it with the fingers he'd only just pulled out of Paimon.

"You're going to ride me," he finally said, tapping the spot on the couch next to his thighs. "You'll put your knees here, and then you're going to use that wet hole of yours to milk me dry. If you manage to make that pretty stomach of yours bulge before you come yourself, I will be convinced that you are still both devoted and obedient to me, my dear."

Another deep shiver ran through Paimon's body. Lucifer could smell the new surge of slick dripping out of his hole before he could see it. He was perfectly aware that this would be a hard task for Paimon, who generally preferred to just be roughed up and fucked until he couldn't even remember his own name. There were plenty of times he took the initiative, of course, but he very much expected Lucifer to take the lead at a certain point.

But at the very least, this little game would keep Paimon from thinking about the whole Satan issue, and once Lucifer had fucked him into a cum-coma, he could get back to his newel caps.

It took Paimon a few more minutes to draw enough of a shaking breath to whisper: "Yes, my king."

Lucifer draped his arms over the back of the couch again and gave a little nod. Paimon followed his instructions to a T. It was easy enough, of course, for him to straddle Lucifer, though the whole thing became a little more complicated when he realized that their size difference meant he couldn't just sink down on Lucifer's cock. He had to line his hole up precisely and then actively push down, squishing the muscles of his thighs so he actually got all of Lucifer inside of him.

Lucifer could have helped him with that, of course, by simply enhancing his own cock a little, but just like with his physical form, he had never felt it necessary to change the size he had taken on when he had woken up in Hell the first time. In the beginning, he honestly just hadn't bothered because he had had bigger fish to fry, and later he had just enjoyed the size difference between himself and Lilith too much to do anything about it. There also had never been a reason for him to make his cock any bigger than it was. It was perfectly proportional to his size, and it had never failed to satisfy his partners. It also lay really nice in his hand. So Paimon would just have to deal, and maybe think about whether he really needed to be so fucking tall himself all the time.

(Though Lucifer would lie if he said he would be happy if Paimon stopped being so tall. Because, again, there was just something very hot about size differences.)

Even with this less-than-ideal position, though, Paimon had millennia of experience pleasuring Lucifer. He moved at the exactly right angle and squeezed his hole in a perfect way, milking his cock just like he had been told to do. Lucifer didn't add any extra torture by holding back his own pleasure, and soon he was moaning and hissing under Paimon as his first climax washed over him.

There was, of course, no such thing as a refractory period when Lucifer was in Hell. He had fooled around on earth a couple of times, mostly with Paimon, and there he had to wait for a while to continue after an orgasm like any other demon, but here, in this realm where every fleck of dust originated from his own shattered grace, he could just keep enjoying Paimon bouncing on his cock.

By the time he had reached his seventh climax, Paimon was looking down at him panting, glassy-eyed and open-beaked, half out of his mind with the dueling needs to reach his own peak and to obey his king's command. There was something adorable about him when he was like this. Desperation really became him.

Now that Paimon's goal was coming closer and closer as more and more of Lucifer's seed filled his body, Lucifer decided it was time for the next step in this game.

"You're so beautiful," he sighed, letting his hands run down the soft feathers of Paimon's front. The mighty Goetian king's panting became more desperate, a delectable mix of whining and hooting that nearly made Lucifer shoot his next shot right away. He let his fingers rest on Paimon's hips, which were not moving in quite as regular a rhythm as they had a few minutes ago, and pushed his claws just deep enough into his skin to draw a little bit of blood.

The burning feeling drew a surprised moan from Paimon. His hips stuttered, hardly able to keep moving as he tried to keep himself from coming. Lucifer let him have this moment to compose himself, then he said: "Paimon, look at me."

Paimon had closed his eyes, likely without noticing, and they flew open immediately at Lucifer's demand. Lucifer was leaning back on the couch, Paimon was sitting bolt-upright on his dick, his whole body tense with the desperate need to stop himself from losing control.

Lucifer grinned up at him, head slightly tilted, fangs on perfect display.

"You're looking down at me right now, darling."

He could see the moment his words penetrated the pleasure-fog of Paimon's mind. His eyes became big as saucers, and he lost his rhythm, stuttering to a sudden halt.

"My king, I would never!" he gasped.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you saying I'm lying? Take a good look at our current positions, my pretty bird."

Paimon was apparently well on the way to being fucked stupid, because he looked up and down for a moment, then to the sides, before he shook his head helplessly. "But..."

"Darling, don't worry," Lucifer said in a suddenly soothing voice and reached up to cup Paimon's cheek with one hand. "It's okay. You're looking down on me because you're sitting on me, because you are serving me with that delightfully clever hole of yours, aren't you?"

Paimon relaxed a little and began to rock his hips again. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Lucifer let his claws run along the feathers on Paimon's cheek, then down over his jaw and to his throat. He wrapped his hand loosely around his neck, his thumb just touching the spot beneath his larynx.

"You're looking down on me," Lucifer said. "But everything you are doing is for my pleasure, isn't it?"

Paimon gulped and started to pick up his pace again. Lucifer's thumb followed the movement of his throat, and his eyes followed his thumb.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment and squeezed his hand around Paimon's neck, coming inside of him again with a soft curse. When he looked up again, Paimon's eyes were rolling towards the back of his head. He eased his grip a little, then he used his other hand to check the progress of Paimon's belly. He was deliberately producing more seed than usual, and he thought he could already feel Paimon's flat abdomen extend the slightest bit.

He squeezed his hip when Paimon's rhythm faltered again.

"So we are in agreement that you are indeed looking down on me?" he asked in a honey-sweet voice.

Paimon let out a clearly distressed hoot, but nodded his head frantically.

"Good. You're looking down on me, and yet I am the one controlling you, not the other way around, true?"

Paimon looked a little confused when he nodded this time. His rhythm became erratic, and a few hot tears of frustration started to mat the feathers under his eyes.

Lucifer let go of his throat and grabbed his hips with both hands. As he started to move Paimon's body up and down on his cock, chasing his own orgasm, he gasped out: "See? It doesn't matter what anybody says, my darling..." He braced his feet on the floor and thrust upward with every down-motion of his hands and of Paimon's hole. Paimon threw his head back and let out a shriek that told Lucifer they were very close to the end of their game.

"In the end," he said through gritted teeth, thrusting harder, "I am Hell. Every single one of you only wields its power because of my will." He cursed again as he felt that hot wave approach. Eyes tightly closed, he gave Paimon's slopping wet hole another few hard thrusts, then he spilled inside of him for the ninth time, and finally the bulge in Paimon's belly became visible. Lucifer grinned and grabbed his throat again.

"It's time for your reward, my pretty little birdie," he cooed. "Come for me."

Paimon let out a choked-off cry, then his entire body shivered like a building a moment before its collapse.

Lucifer held his body by his waist, keeping him in motion as wave after wave of delirious pleasure washed over Paimon. Only when one last shiver ended with him going lax in Lucifer's grasp did he finally stop moving. Lucifer saw the valiant effort he put into trying to keep his eyes open, but eventually, his head lolled to the side.

Even a powerful King of the Ars Goetia couldn't endure being filled by this much of Lucifer's semen – and the generous amount of his own essence he had infused it with -- and still remain standing. Lucifer leaned forward to kiss the spot where Paimon's heart would have been if he were human, then he carefully lifted him off his lap. Half a thought was enough to magically seal his hole shut, with all of his hot, sticky seed still inside. They could play with that once Paimon was awake again.

The couch was big, though not quite long enough to accommodate all of Paimon's height if he were to stretch out his limbs, so Lucifer carefully folded him into a comfortable position and manifested a blanket and a pillow for him. Then he sat down on the arm rest, picked up his newel cap and his woodcarving knife, and went back to work.

[newathens]

please write the book. or at least a in-depth post bcs i’m deeply curious.

so like I’ll go on and on for a second cause i need to get it off my chest because im so upset right now but know that im saying this through a lens of mental illness and pessimism and i don’t think u should take it as valid cause it’s borderline mean. im sure if i was more ‘healed’ or whatever i wouldn’t think like this but anyway

i don’t think we as a society are striving for weight loss anymore i think we as a society are striving for beauty. and i say this well aware of the current weight loss renaissance we’re in right now.

here’s the thing. u don’t need to be skinny to be pretty. there are bigger women who are drop dead gorgeous. but the thing is u have to have the right face and shape to pull off being bigger. and everybody gets so caught up in losing weight because that’s what’s drilled into us when in reality a decent chunk of people don’t need to do that. i have a theory that everyone has a size that they look best at and skinny is not that size for everyone. Sometimes, skinny looks worse

and there isn’t even just skinny or fat. there’s skinny, lean, muscular, athletic, defined, soft, pudgy, boxy, etc etc etc

And from what i have observed people get stuck on going after one body type when actually there are certain things that society has deemed unattractive across all body types and that’s where the problems come up. Highly desirable traits right now are a toned lower abdomen, a defined jawline, high brows, the cute upward curved nose but those i would view as stereotypical beauty at this point. Like Botox beauty

In my view, a heart shape face can get away with a soft jawline, hooked noses should not be touched, if you’re midsize a small apron belly is totally fine because most of the time it’s all complimenting that specific type of beauty category you are in. And sometimes fucking with that makes you look worse

for example, myself, i feel i am a mixture of all undesirable traits. My jaw is not defined, and i have an apron belly, and yes i am a bigger girl but im the WRONG type of bigger girl. Society likes a bigger girl that has a flatter tummy. She doesn’t have to be an hourglass shape, but her stomach definitely isn’t sagging. I refer to these ideal bigger girls as hidden muscle fat. She’s fat, but due to the muscle she has a shape that is an echo of lean

And i know i said wrong type of bigger girl but im actually going to contradict and say that you also can be a bigger with with a flat but and an apron belly, as long as that is the shape that compliments your specific body. Because there are women that have everything i have who are also drop dead gorgeous. And to me there’s like no debating this, i can tell within like a minute whether a body type is meant for someone or not that’s how much im analyzing 24/7

like im not gonna tell a bigger girl with evenly distributed fat and a heart shaped face to lose weight because she’s brilliant as is. She’s fitting the standard of one of many different beauty categories. im not going to tell a midsize girl who is in the perfect position to tone up to lose weight, because making herself skinnier may make her look worse in the long run actually

i feel like what we’ve always done is say get smaller and u will look better. Well no, that’s actually not the case. This explanation is a mess but are u getting weird way my mind works

i assumed u were curious abt my tags but i can always go on about body image and society separately another time

[juicycoutureheaux]

When it’s over Chapter 11

“Alma Y Cuerpo”

It’s been a while since I’ve updated “when it’s over” on Tumblr, I didn’t know if this story had many readers on here. I’ve got 17 chapters on Ao3, I’ll work on updating the chapters without spamming the tags here. The other chapters can be found here

The next couple of weeks were spent on leave, Anna’s body slowly catching up with her mind.

She had received news, in a sterile BSAA clinic that Walden had exposed her to the Mold where it entered her bloodstream. After her initial life saving procedures to stop the mold from spreading further, the medical staff conducted a CT scan on her brain to see if the mold had moved to her brain.

She was lucky, there weren’t any masses found in her brain, but she would have to go back for scans and tests twice a year.

Doctor Williams, who was an internationally recognized scientist and medical doctor, assured her she wasn’t contagious and she could live a normal life, with few modifications.

He even hypothesized that the infection is what saved her life.

The news was devestating. She was struggling with a condition now, that had little research about it and she couldn’t even tell her best friend.

After she was released from the hospital she was cleared to go back to her apartment she shared with Lavish.

The apartment didn’t have the same warmth as it did before.

It felt like the ghost of who she used to be, was haunting the apartment.

The weird thing about having a near death experience and seeing loved ones that have passed on, is that everyday you’re reminded of it.

Every time she stepped into the shared living space she expected her mother and husband to be there, but they were absent.

She also longed to receive a message from Bunny. She would have accepted anything; a feather, butterfly or cardinal. Maybe, an unfortunate, yet comical series of events that only she could orchestrate in the afterlife.

It was like radio silence coming from the other side of this existence. As the days passed on, Anna felt more empty; it was like a part of her died when Walden tried to end her life.

And maybe it did.

She had experienced actual pain before, but nothing compared to the betrayal of a friend. She had betrayed her friend, by not being able to keep her safe. She had died a horrible death for nothing. It was selfish, but there were nights she wished she had been the one to die instead. It only made sense, she was the one who vowed to risk her life for the safety of others, not Bunny; yet, here she was laying down on the cold floor of her bedroom alone.

It was Saturday night, Lavish was at the club performing.

They held a week-long celebration of life for the late Bunny while Anna was still in the hospital. Her murder reverberated through the community and seemed to bring everybody closer together. The bar was busier than ever and Lavish was reaping the benefits.

Lavish would come home, plentiful cash tips in hand at sunrise, but there was always something sad in her eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this without my friend.” She would say. Anna would just sit there and listen while Lavish would talk through her guilt.

Sure, they were doing better than ever, but Bunny wasn’t here to see it. It was almost like she was some sacrificial lamb. Anna didn’t even want to think about it, it’s not like she could talk about what Walden confessed to her. This was the first time she really couldn’t talk about something with Lavish and it was killing her.

Anna decided the pain was beginning to be too much to bear and she got off the cold floor and decided to do something about it.

She was going to Redfield’s house; before she could realize what she was doing she was standing on the porch of Alpha’s home.

She was debating whether or not to knock on the door, or to turn around with her tail between her legs but fate had other plans.

The distinct sound of a lock being undone and the door creaking open filled Anna’s ears.

Chris stood there in a plain, gray tee that accentuated his muscular chest and arms. He looked at the woman with the slightest bit of confusion and curiosity.

“Anna, what are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you for a couple more weeks.”

Anna’s breath hitched in her throat. “I made a mistake, I should really be leaving, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” She went to leave but she felt a large hand gently, yet firmly grab her wrist.

Anna looked up to meet Chris’ concerned gaze.

“You made the drive out here for a reason. Why don’t you come inside, even if it’s just for a minute.” He reasoned with her.

She bit her lip with indecisiveness and let him guide her through the threshold of the doorway.

Out of habit she gently removed her shoes at the front door before stepping further into Chris’ neat home. Her bare feet were cold on the hardwood floors.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch?” Chris suggested.

Her movements were automatic as she sat on the plush couch. She instinctively sat at the edge of the couch and propped herself up against the armrest.

Chris came back in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He sat them down on the coffee table and sat at the other end of the couch Anna was on.

“Soooo….” He started off by pouring the dark liquid into the glass and offering it to her. She took it and watched as he poured some for himself.

She stared into her glass swirling the dark amber-y liquid, watching it change in color as it moved around the glass. She decided it was only fair for her to break the silence.

“I’m so used to always initiating cheers before I drink.” She said awkwardly.

“Considering you showed up looking helpless on my doorstep, I’m guessing you’re not in the mood to cheer for anything.” Chris said flatly.

“You would be absolutely correct.” She announced the last two words bitterly. Then, without giving it a second thought she threw back the whiskey in one take. She put her glass firmly on the coffee table. The warmth from the alcohol swirling in her belly.

“Right on.” Chris said and did the same.

“I came here to talk about the incident.” She said shakily, the liquid courage starting to numb her a little bit.

Chris stared at her sympathetically, he was silent, but his body language said that he was listening.

“Walden told me some things… some awful things. I can’t get them out of my head. I have nightmares almost every night.”

“He almost killed you Anna.” He sighed, pouring himself another shot and did the same for her. “You trusted him, and he tried to murder you.” The thought of Walden leading Anna into that lab alone, if Chris had just been five minutes late, or hadn’t even thought to look for her, Anna would have been dead.

Anna looked at Chris intently. “That’s not even the worst part.” She felt the sadness and guilt build up in her chest. She drank some more of the burning liquid to numb the pain. “I killed her.” She said out weakly.

Chris instinctively moved closely to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Killed who, Anna?”

Bunny’s face flashed in her mind. She thought of how scared she was in her final moments and how Anna was completely to blame. She began to cry in her hands.

Chris pulled into her an embrace and began to rub her back. She couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the fact she had kept the awful secret to herself for weeks, but she felt comfortable enough to cry into his chest.

When she had calmed down a little bit, Chris loosened his embrace on her.

“Walden killed Bunny because of me.” She managed out.

“Anna, it's not your fault.”

“But it is!” Anna sobbed. “She’s gone, it should have been me, why couldn’t he just have killed me?”

Chris tensed his jaw. He remembered the Arklay incident. The feelings of guilt flooding back to him. His comrades dead because of his selfish leader; and Chris, left alive to suffer.

“I should never have involved anyone else in my life when I moved here. I knew the risk! I knew there were bad people out there like Walden, I just never thought it would be him! Bunny is dead because I was selfish, I just wanted friends so badly, I felt like she really understood me and now she’s gone.”

“She’s dead because some selfish asshole wanted to hurt you Anna. And he succeeded.”

Anna began to spiral. “It’s not just Bunny Chris-“ she raised her voice a little. “If I hadn’t pushed Michael so hard, if I hadn’t been so adamant about starting a family. Maybe if I had just stopped demanding so much he wouldn’t have felt the need to advance his career so fast, he wasn’t even supposed to be there the day he died.”

She breathed shakily, moving her hand through her hair. “But I insisted he go, I wanted him to be the first one there to make the best impression.” She started to sob again.

Chris breathed in. He remembered the guilt that he still carried with him, with Jill. She wasn’t supposed to be there with Spencer either, but she insisted. He remembered saying to him that it was “their fight”.

He regrets letting her go everyday.

Chris decided to speak. “You know, I bet he didn’t think you were pressuring him.”

She looked up at him, her usual spritely features marred with tears and red blotches.

“You…think that?”

“Of course I do, the way you talk about him, he seemed like a good man, but you’re also a good woman.” He planted his hand on her thigh assuringly.

The warmth of his hand on her thigh made her weak, but his words made her weaker.

“I bet you were so good to him. I bet everyday you gave him something to smile about.”

She sniffled starting to feel like she could talk to

Him without sobbing.

“Everytime he was sick, I would go to the grocery store and get his favorite fruit, because I know it would make him feel better.” She laughed at the memory. “I demanded he lay in bed, because he was always moving; even when he was sick.”

She grimaced and looked down at her feet.

“I really miss the life I had.”

Chris gave her an understanding look.

“You know I think about that all the time. I dream about the life I had before all this bio terrorism mess.”

Anna quickly snapped her head up. “Chris, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful.”

Chris held her tight again. “You don’t sound ungrateful, you sound human.”

She leaned her head into his chest. “Did you ever want a family Chris? Did you ever think you’d get married, have kids?”

Chris hadn’t dwelled on the thoughts he had while living in Raccoon City. Working at the RPD, sure he was immature, but he saw how happy Barry and Kathy were. He was a womanizer, but he always thought he’d find the right girl to settle down with and have a couple of kids.

When he met Jill, he was convinced it was her. She was beautiful, smart and tough as hell; she didn’t take any shit from the guys at the station. Then the incident happened, he was so hellbent on avenging his dead friends he forgot about the ones who were still alive.

He abandoned Jill in Raccoon City where she needed him most, he had even abandoned Claire.

What kind of man was he?

He decided to answer truthfully. “I did, I don’t think I deserve it anymore.”

It was Anna’s turn to comfort Chris.

“Chris, I think you’d be an amazing husband and an even better dad.” She said sincerely.

He shifted uncomfortably. He decided to switch the subject back to Anna.

“Did Walden do anything else to you, Anna?” He said cautiously, making sure he didn’t offend her or bring up traumatic memories too soon.

She grabbed the glass bottle and poured them more, she knew she needed to slow down, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I can’t remember much of what happened honestly,” she sipped the alcohol this time, taking time to taste the bitterness of it. “I remember he threatened my family, that’s why I went with him. He wanted to inject me with something…” she trailed off. She hadn’t thought of the events since her recovery in the hospital, she suddenly felt panicked.

“He…he… exposed me to the mold, Chris.”

Chris’ eyes widened. Anna buried her face into her hands.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about it with somebody?”

“Yes.” She sobbed a little bit.

He laughed humorlessly, lost for words. “Well, you haven't been neutralized, so you must be okay.” He tried to say lightly.

“It’s in my bloodstream but I’m not contagious. They tried some experimental drug on me so it wouldn’t spread. It wasn’t very pleasant as you can imagine.”

“Anna, I’m so sorry. I knew you had been exposed, I just wasn’t aware of how bad it actually was.”

“Do you think I’m a monster? That I’m like Lucas?” She asked sharply.

Chris looked at her incredulously. “You’re nowhere near that crazy bastard. You will never be like him.”

“You’re the only person I’ve told, I don’t know if anyone else knows.”

“They don’t.” He said assuringly. “I won’t tell either. Your secret is safe with me.” He smiled at her.

Anna nodded, her eyes still unfocused, mind in some far off place. Chris recognized that stare, he had seen it too many times. It genuinely made him angry that Walden, and the connections had caused her so much pain.

“So you and Micheal wanted kids?.” He asked casually, trying to lighten the subject.

For the first time tonight, Anna genuinely smiled. “I wanted them so bad.” She said. “We tried so hard to conceive. The doctors told us our only hope was IVF, my body was having trouble ovulating.” She blinked quickly and made a grimace.

“I’m sorry that was TMI.” She laughed awkwardly.

“No it isn’t.” Chris laughed with her.

Her face fell a little bit. “It was expensive, but I wanted a baby so bad, I just wanted to be a mom. Michael would have done anything to make it happen and he did.” Her face fell again.

“It just wasn’t meant to be.” She took another shot of the whiskey. Her body was getting warmer, she knew she needed to stop, but didn’t want to.

“You don’t know that,” Chris said reassuringly. “You’re still so young.”

“Yeah, well, I think God has other plans for my life.” She said. “They advised me at the clinic if I were to conceive they would have a chance of having the infection. You know that means.”

Chris nodded. He did. Terrorists were manufacturing BOWS in labs. If word spread that a human was producing super humans naturally, Anna and her children would be in extreme danger.

Anna stood up quickly, “Well I’ve wasted enough of your time tonight Chris, I should get going,” she stumbled slightly before Chris firmly seated her into the couch again.

The mood started to shift to a lighter tone.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, missy.” He said in a playful tone. “You should stay here until you sober up. I’ll let your roommate know where you are.”

“Do you know their phome number?”

“Oh I got Daniel’s number while you were in the Hospital. He was listed as your emergency contact.”

Anna looked at him confused. “He lets you call him Daniel?” She glared at him. “Have you guys been texting behind my back?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

She flopped her back into the couch dramatically and put a pillow over her face. Chris smirked at her overracting.

He sat down next to her again. “Alright, he’s aware you’re staying over.”

“Great.” Anna said through the pillow which muffled her response. She took the pillow off her face. “Soooo… since we’re in a talking mood tonight,” she said, starting to blush. “Should we talk about that kiss we had in Canada?”

Chris blinked at her, genuinely shocked. The kiss had been on his mind for weeks. He thought she would never bring it up, he was worried he had forced himself onto her. Obviously he knew now the feeling was mutual.

“What about it?” He asked, trying to cover up his shock.

“Well, do you have feelings for me Chris, because I definitely think I have them for you.”

Instead of answering verbally, Chris decided to do what any hot blooded man would do. He kissed her passionately.

It was comfortable and romantic, it was like they had just picked up where they ended in Canada. Anna decided to break the Kiss.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” She giggled.

“Yes.” He said, going in to nibble at the sensitive skin on her neck.

She instinctively let out a moan. It had been so long since she had been touched like this, she missed it. She also felt slight guilt of being with another man.

She tried to shake it off, remembering her fever dream. Would Michael really be okay with her having a relationship with another man?

Chris sensed her demeanor change. “Are you okay? We don’t have to keep going.”

She smiled up at him and kissed him again, rougher this time. The liquor was doing things to her body, she felt like her belly was on fire and she could smell Chris’ natural scent, which only made her more aroused.

Chris picked up on her neediness and began to paw at her breasts through her clothes. Impatiently, she ripped her shirt and bra off. She wanted to feel his calloused hands on her bare breasts.

“You want this bad, don’t you baby?”

“I’ve wanted you since Dulvey, Chris.”

“You’re such a bad girl making me wait that long. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” He said roughly pulling her hips up to align with his. She could feel his erection on her thigh.

Although Chris was in his 40s, he was rock hard and had no problem getting “it up” for her. The size of what she felt excited her, but also made her nervous. It had been years since she had been fucked. Would she be any good still?

Chris began to play with the waistband of her shorts. She lifted up her hips and removed them exposing her panties.

She suddenly felt self conscious. “Why don’t you take your shirt off honey?” She said playing with his shirt.

Chris responded enthusiastically by taking off his shirt. “That good enough sweetheart?”

She smirked. “Definitely.” She began to gently rub his muscular chest. “Chris, you’ve got an amazing body.” She began to stroke his hair and move her hands from his head, down to his neck and stop at his shoulders. She couldn’t help but squeeze his biceps.

“Mmm, you’re driving me crazy baby.” He said as he pressed body against hers again. He let his hand drift down below her waist, touching the thin fabric of her panties.

She shuddered at his touch. She kissed him again to affirm she wanted him to continue. She bucked her hips up to him and moaned in pleasure when he moved her panties to the side to gently stroke her most sensitive place.

“Mmm Chris, please don’t stop it feels so good,” she moaned into his ear.

He responded by inserting a finger into her tight entrance. She gasped at the sensation of a thick finger inside of her.

“God baby, your pussy is so tight.” He began to pump his finger in and out of her while rubbing her clit. “It’s a shame I’m going to stretch it out.”

Anna and Michael hardly exchanged dirty talk when they had sex. The two of them would say the occasional dirty thing and then giggle. They were so young and inexperienced when they married.

Chris was proving to be the exact opposite. The way he touched her body, he had probably been with several women, and he didn’t hold back with expressing his dirty thoughts.

She started to blush a deep red. Chris used his free hand to caress her face. “Is this your first time since…?”

Anna nodded sheepishly.

“I’ll take good care of you baby, don't worry.”

Chris began to kiss down her abdomen to her pelvis. He pulled down the thin fabric of her panties and revealed her pussy.

She began to sit up to protest what was about to happen when Chris placed a firm hand on her abdomen, keeping her in place.

He spread her thighs apart and put his head between her thighs and began to lick her clit mercilessly.

Anna was not the type to receive oral sex, sure her husband had tried it, but she was so self conscious it was never enjoyable.

With Chris it was different. He was assertive, Of course she didn’t feel pressured to do anything she didn’t want to do, but he was making sure to push her limits.

“Chris, it’s so much,” she began to writhe underneath him. He didn’t slow down, but instead he entered two of his thick fingers into her pussy.

She couldn’t contain the erotic noises of her pleasure. She thanked god he lived in a home and not an apartment. She was loud and knew that if people were nearby they were hearing her react to Chris’ unique set of skills.

Her body began to tremble as the increasing waves of pleasure ran over her body. Just as she was about to climax Chris withdrew himself from her.

She lifted herself, face flushed and looked at Chris with confusion and slight embarrassment.

“Did I do something wrong?” She stammered out.

Chris kissed her reassuringly. “You’re doing everything right sweetheart.”

He began to undo his pants and she couldn’t help but stare.

“You wanna help me get these pants off so I can fuck your little pussy quicker?”

Anna giggled and instinctively looked away. He was so comfortable with her. She wish she could return the same confidence.

Never the procrastinator, Chris guided her hands to the waist of his pants. She followed his lead and began to undo his belt buckle. She pulled down his pants and his thick cock sprung out.

She was hesitant at first, but she gently took Chris’ member in her mouth and began to suck his cock.

Chris began to play with her hair gently, moving it out of her face and holding it in a ponytail.

“God you look so beautiful sucking my cock. It’s like your mouth was made for me.”

Ever the people pleaser Anna began moving faster, attempting to take more of him into her mouth. It was a challenge but she was up to it.

Chris rubbed Anna’s shoulder warmly. “Baby, I don’t want to cum just yet.”

Anna understood and moved away from his cock. She kissed up his chest, to his neck to meet his mouth. He buried his fingers in her hair, completely dominating the kiss.

When they came up for air, Chris gently picked her up.

Anna looked at him a little confused.

“I don’t want our first time together to be on a couch.”

She smiled at him and held on to his neck as he carried her into his bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed and looked into her eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Of course.”

That’s all he needed. Chris spread her legs at the knees as he positioned himself between her. “This okay?”

Anna nodded positioning her hands on his biceps again.

He grabbed her hips and brought them to align with his. He began to tease her a little bit by rubbing the tip of his cock against her clit and wet entrance.

“Chris, please.” She whined out.

“Chris, please what?” He chided her. He wanted her to beg for it.

“Chris please…I want you inside of me.” She said sheepishly.

Chris smirked, “You are such a sweet girl.” He kissed her cheek.

He grabbed knees by the backs, and pressed them to as far as they would go so she was completely helpless tohim.

“All that training paid off babygirl. You’re so flexible.”

He began to enter her, little by little, Anna began to clutch his arms digging her nails into him.

“That’s right baby, you’re taking my cock so well.”

Chris eventually managed to get his cock inside of her right entrance, completely filling her up. He began to thrust into her, the head of his cock grazing her cervix with each thrust.

Anna couldn’t help but yelp with each thrust. He was being rough with her, but she was enjoying it.

When she was married sex was sweet, it was never erotic like this. Chris was completely dominating her and enveloping her entire body. He was commanding every sense she had

She felt Chris’ thrusts become deeper and faster. She knew he was close. She let herself relax so she could ride out the waves of her own orgasm. Chris bit down on her neck as he came.

Chris collapsed into her as soon as he finished. They shared a long kiss and he pulled out of her. She suddenly felt very empty,

The post coital clarity hit her hard.

She quickly ran into the bathroom before Chris could question her. She immediately turned on the shower and got in.

She felt Chris’ cum leak out of her.

In that moment she felt so dirty, that she didn’t even make him wear protection, that she was so easy she’d just let anyone fuck her.

Overwhelmed with emotion and hormones she began to cry.

She felt so guilty for sleeping with Chris. He was so good in bed, but they had no real relationship. She just slept with him out of pure carnal attraction. She was torn out of her thoughts when she heard a gentle knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Anna?”’

She quickly turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around her. She opened the door. Chris stood there with a concerned look.

“I heard you crying.”

She felt awful. “Chris, I just um, I don’t know, I think it’s all the hormones or something. I just haven’t been right that’s all.”

Chris brought her in for an embrace. “Was I too rough?”

Anna stroked his muscular chest. “No, it was perfect, honestly it was too perfect.” She pulled away.

“Then why were you crying?”

She took a shaky breath. “Because I know we can’t continue like this Chris. I feel like I’m just a hookup to you.”

“A hookup? Are you serious?”

“It’s really okay, I understand. I’m just not used to this.”

“Anna, you’re not just some hookup, you mean so much more to me.”

She felt overwhelmed.

“Is this really going to work? I feel like I have so many complicated feelings for you.” She leaned into his chest.

“All we can do is try.” He hugged her back and stroked her soft hair. He knew the risks of sleeping with her, he felt himself falling for her as well. He vowed mentally to take care of her. Whatever it took.

They ended up making love a second time that night and fell asleep in each other's arms.

For the first time, in a long time the pair hadn’t had the nightmares that kept them awake at night.