#detached 2-car garage

[nurkussmich]

Porch Side Yard Boston

Large, elaborate side porch design with an addition to the roof

[fishervk]

Boston Porch Side Yard

Large ornate screened-in side porch idea with a roof extension

[zenlesszonezero]

Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

[sushiprincessgame]

Siding - Craftsman Exterior Inspiration for a sizable, one-story, mixed-siding, craftsman-style home with a shingle roof.

[psychologistproblems]

Large ornate screened-in side porch idea with a roof extension

[prisimic]

Siding Exterior Inspiration for a sizable, one-story, mixed-siding, craftsman-style home with a shingle roof.

[samifeur]

Mediterranean Exterior in Miami

Example of a large tuscan beige one-story stucco house exterior design with a hip roof and a tile roof

[wingedwolves]

Traditional Garage - Large Ideas for remodeling a large, traditional detached two-car garage

[elodiegendreau]

Garage in Richmond Mid-sized elegant detached two-car garage photo

[xgosiax]

Medium Garage

[georgeclarkewifey]

Inconvenience | g. clarke

Chapter 2 - A New Home

Word Count: 1.3k+

Summary: Noa reaches her destination, and gets reunited with bestie number 2

Warnings: swearing, very mild angst / reference to it

“Noa, oi, wake up.” Chris whispered, gently shaking her shoulder, causing Noa to jerk awake.

“Huh? What happened?” She asked blearily, trying to get a grasp of her surroundings as her eyes adjusted. “Shit, did I fall asleep? I’m so sorry Chris, that can’t have been fun for you.”

Looking round, Noa realised that they were in the parking garage underneath their apartment building. The bright white lights were harsh upon her eyes as she glanced round, squinting to get a better view.

“Noa, you were exhausted, I really don’t mind. C’mon, we’re here and I’ve already picked up your keys, so we can get you moved in.” Chris replied, popping the boot to start unloading boxes.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a godsend Dixie?” Noa asked, climbing out of the car to stretch. “God that felt good.”

“Yeah you might have mentioned it and imagine what sleeping on a nice mattress will be like tonight.”

“Just need to source one first.” Noa shrugged, taking a couple more boxes out of Chris’ car and setting them down on the ground.

“Wait. You do have furniture, right Noa?” Chris asked, slowly turning on his heel, to look at his friend incredulously. “Noa, I swear to god-“

“I’ve got an air mattress for tonight, and then I’m going to ikea tomorrow to break my bank account.” She shrugged, putting her backpack on nonchalantly.

“I honestly can’t believe you.”

Noa chuckled, patting Chris on the shoulder. “I would have thought that after 24 years you would have gotten used to me by now.”

Chris rolled his eyes and pulled her into a hug. “You still somehow manage to surprise everyday. And hey, it’s nice to have you less than two minutes away from us again, instead eight hours away in the car.”

Noa nodded gently, letting her head rest on Chris’ shoulder. “Yeah, it’s good to have you guys back again.”

“Are you two having a cute moment without me?” A voice from across the garage called.

“ARTIE!” Noa exclaimed, detaching herself from Chris to break into a light jog, so that she could launch herself at the figure of one Arthur TV. He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as the pair swayed side to side.

“Good to see you Murph.” He sighed, ruffling her hair kindly. They pulled away from each other and grinned, basking in their presence.

Noa sniffed, her eyes welling up. “It’s been too long Arthur, too fucking long.” She said, her voice choked with emotion.

Arthur nodded, taking a deep breath as he too started to become emotional. “You’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

Biting her lip, Noa wiped her eyes and held out an arm, so Chris could join in on their group hug. “The Jersey bitches are back together again.”

“We never were and never will be called that.” Chris muttered, as Noa gently whacked the back of his head.

“Just you wait, it’ll catch on.” She said, grinning. “God I can’t actually actually believe we’re all together again.”

“Agreed. And Noa you don’t know this, but Chris and I are kidnapping you now that you’re here.”

Chris nodded. “It’s true. You’re not leaving our sights again.”

Chuckling, Noa lovingly ruffled both of the boys’ hair. “So if I were to theoretically tell you that I wanted to do a PhD in Yale-“

“Nope not happening, never.” Arthur said quickly, bending down so that he could throw Noa over his shoulder, which she wasn’t too pleased about.

“TELEVISION! PUT ME DOWN!”

“No,” he said happily, “this is a kidnapping.”

————————————•———————————

Noa collapsed onto her freshly blown up air mattress, sighing contentedly. Even though most of her apartment was barren of furniture, decorations and overall character, there was a small glow of hope in her chest.

The place had potential. But what was even better than that was the fact that she had Chris and Arthur two floors below her, accompanied by their two other roommates whom she had yet to meet.

“You sure you don’t want help unpacking?” Arthur asked, setting the boxes marked ‘Kitchen’ on the small dining room table.

“Yeah, I’ll do it sometime tomorrow after the ikea trip.” She said, struggling to keep her eyes open on her mattress. Chris, noticing this nudged Arthur and gestured to the door with his head.

“You want to go around 11 tomorrow?”

“Sounds great guys, and thank you for all your help, really, thanks.” Noa said, standing up to give both of them another warm hug.

“Always Murph, we’re here for you.” Arthur replied, beaming.

“Now go get some sleep yeah? You look in desperate need of it.”

“Aye aye captain.” Noa said, saluting the two of them. “See you tomorrow guys.”

Chris and Arthur waved goodbye and headed towards the elevator, the pair stood in silence, however they could tell what the other was thinking.

“It really is good to have her back.” Arthur said happily, as the elevator arrived.

“And she’s acting like her old self again.” Chris agreed.”

“I think she’s gonna be really happy here.”

Back in their flat, George and Arthur Hill were mid argument.

“Yeah but can she really be that good of a friend if she fucked off to Scotland for four years?” George retorted, as a tired Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose whilst trying not to burn his toast.

“Yes, yes she can.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I trust Arthur and Chris’ character judgement, and from what they’ve told me it sounds as if she had stuff going on.” He replied shrugged.

George however, wasn’t convinced. “Surely if you’re a good friend you’d keep in contact? I mean, how hard is a text now and again? It’s not as if Chris and Arthur were shockingly busy. And having stuff can’t always be an excuse, surely she’d want to talk to them if they’re some of her closest friends.” He ranted from the sofa.

“George! For the last time, I don’t know the whole story, neither do you, so stop speculating.” Arthur said frustratedly. “I would have hoped that you could see how happy those two are that she’s close by now, and used the brain that I believe you have in there to know that she’s not the spawn of Satan.”

George, sensing he has lost this one held his arms up in defeat. “Fine, fine. But I’m not changing my tune until I meet her myself.”

“Yes, fine whatev-“ Arthur cut himself off at the sound of the front door opening. “Be nice.” He hissed at George, trying to re-enforce his ‘no nonsense’ message by pointing his knife at George, but he wasn’t taken wholly seriously due to the copious amounts of Nutella on the end.

“Be nice.” George mimicked, screwing his face up at Arthur as he rolled his eyes.

“Hiya!” Arthur called as he emerged round the corner with Chris in tow.

“Noa not with you?” Arthur (Hill) asked, causing George’s head to snap up.

“Nah, she’s exhausted, but you’ll get to meet her when we go to ikea!”

“How can she be tired after an hour and a half drive?” George asked, a skeptical undertone in his voice that earned him a glare from Hill.

“She only got four hours of sleep last night, and I’m guessing she was crashing from all the Monsters she had.” Chris answered, throwing himself on the sofa and picking up one of the PS5 controllers.

“Sounds as if she enjoys a healthy diet.” George snarked.

“Oh shut up George - he’s been like this all day Chris.” Arthur complained, moving to join Chris on the sofa.

“Are you not gonna use a plate?”

“No…why?”

“Because you’ll get crumbs and Nutella on the sofa dingbat.”

“How did you guys even meet Noa in the first place? Like, I get you all lived in Jersey and went to the same school, but she’s like four years younger than both of you.” George asked, taking a seat across from Chris.

“We were neighbours,” Chris replied, loading up a game of FIFA. “And her and Arthur’s parents are good friends, so yeah that’s all there is to it really.”

“All it took was one summer barbecue when we were kids, then we were practically inseparable.”

“Yeah, she’s like our little sister.”

“That’s cute and all, but right now I’d like to focus on beating Christopher’s arse at FIFA now.” George sighed, picking up the controller.

Arthur TV, confused at the comment glanced over at his fellow Arthur, who just shrugged, but then waved his phone in the air.

The two Arthurs nodded at each other, content at the conclusion they had come too, however uncertain at what it would lead to.

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 11

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: hospital, car accident, angst

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9 pt.10

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

________________________________________

“James, have you fed him yet?”

“I thought you did��-

“Well, I didn’t so now he’s apparently had two breakfasts”-

“DAAAA!” shrieks baby Harry, waving his chubby fists in the air. Lily kisses his forehead in passing as she tugs the oven door open, using her hip to nudge Harry’s high chair further back. 

James pokes his head through the kitchen door. Sawdust speckles his hair and coat. “Amberly, would you like to help me carry this over to Sirius’ place? I’ve finished the chair and we can leave it there while he’s at work.”

“Breaking and entering, I see,” quips Amberly as she grabs her coat. “Shall I bring my wand?”

He scoffs. “As if Sirius has ever remembered to lock his front door in his life. Now his garage, though- where Minerva is- that’s a different story.”

Amberly laughs, tugging on white earmuffs. “Are we taking the van?”

“You’ll have to put down the back seats,” chimes Lily. She places a paper bag in James’ hand, standing on tiptoes to hug him. “And move Harry’s car seat.”

Amberly turns to tug on her boots, trying to ignore the little twinge of pain in her chest that always pops up when they’re affectionate with each other. Trying to tune out the loneliness that’s been running rampant in her head. 

She’s been staying with James and Lily for the last few weeks, ever since getting discharged from the hospital with no more than a concussion and a stern warning to “take it easy” over the next few days- a task that Sirius immediately surrendered after he brought her home at eleven p.m. and discovered her up at two vacuuming his (admittedly dusty) living room. Barring the occasional headache in bright light, she feels fine. Back to normal.

Minus Remus.

Amberly hasn’t heard from him. At least she doesn’t think she has. James and Lily have kept him out of her recovery; even though they try to keep it from her, she’s positive she’s heard his voice on the doorstep for several nights in a row now, always followed by James’ voice speaking firmly but softly. 

She hasn’t seen him, and she hasn’t even been back to their house. Her phone, which had been cracked in the hit-and-run, has been entirely useless for contacting anyone, and Lily has insisted on waiting till the end of the month to get her a new one (“that’s when they’re the cheapest, you know!”). 

But she misses him. 

She misses the smell of his cologne when she hugged him, and the soft of his hair in her hands, the rough scratch of stubble on her cheek when he kissed her. She misses his touch in the night, warm arms curling around her.

A tiny part of her wants to go back to before, even if it meant hiding from his bad moods and dodging his irritability. But another, much larger part abjectly refuses to entertain the idea. 

Have you NO self-respect? screams her subconscious as she makes her way to the garage with James, tugging on her gloves. They’ve spent the last few weeks building an elaborate rocking chair with carvings of pawprints on the back, a birthday gift for Sirius as the autumn fell over the evenings like a cloak. Would you put up with that now? 

Amberly is ashamed to admit that she might. Because as much as she tries to detach herself, she knows that she’s still in love with Remus. 

[indigosunsetao3]

Chapter 1

It's always interesting when the new neighbor(s) move in.

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 2.2k Words

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Celeste offered as a farewell as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

The café was only partially packed at this time of day, after the lunch rush and before the early dinner customers. During the off-season, it was easier to predict the day-to-day schedule; during peak tourist time in the summer and winter, it was a crap shoot on how busy they would be. Too cold and people wouldn’t brave the mountains to ski even if that was why they came to visit. Too hot and they weren’t going to be out boating in the heat of the day, opting for an early dinner then perhaps hitting the lake at sundown.

“See you tomorrow. Are you still good to work over with Andrea needing off for her kids?” Her boss asked as he shoved another tray of fresh bread into the display case and stood up with a groan, holding his lower back.

“Oh, yes, no problem,” Celeste answered, having already forgotten she had agreed to that last week. Not that it mattered; she had no one at home waiting on her. Well, except for Samson.

The day was overcast, as it usually was this late in the winter. The snow mostly melted, even on the highest peaks, with temperatures rising to give way to spring. It was rainy season, and as Celeste yanked open her car door, she felt a few errant drops catch her arm. She hated driving in the rain and hated everything about that particular weather, so getting home quickly was the goal.

The fifteen-minute drive, the average time when only the locals were around, passed without much fuss. The roads weaving through dense woods before opening to spectacular views of the lake on the left were why people came to this sleepy place. It had something for everyone: a lake for sailing, racing, and water skiing. Mountains in the not-so-far distance for hiking, camping, skiing, and even sheer rockface mountain climbing for the bravest.

Celeste hadn’t bothered with any of that in months, barely left her own home unless it was for work or to go to the grocer. She had only officially moved into the family cottage right before Christmas, though the place still looked like a vacant house. She hadn’t even entered the den; the furniture was still covered in sheets, and packed boxes littered the halls.  She just didn’t have the energy or willpower to finish, only pulling out the bare minimum to get by the past three months.

Putting her car in park, she stared in her side mirror at the bins she needed to drag into the detached garage. Just as she had pulled in, the sky opened up to deluge the area, and she didn’t want to get soaked messing with them. How long could she get away from leaving them before the neighbor up the road came calling to remind her? Trash day had been three days ago; leaving the bins out all week wasn't proper. As she twisted in the backseat to try and find an umbrella, she noticed movement at the cottage next door that made her pause.

The place had been for sale since she had moved in. It had been falling into disrepair for as long as she could remember. The owner's adult children had moved from England years ago, and the parents were too old to maintain the property. They had rented it out for a while but stopped when the roof collapsed on the sunroom while guests were staying. No one had repaired it, and the house sat empty month after month until the For Sale sign appeared. It caused a fuss in the town; people were mad that the family home would likely go to strangers, but Celeste kept quiet. She was also a stranger here; the family cottage she moved into was her husband’s.

She watched quietly as a man climbed out of the sleek town car, jacket pulled over his head to shield himself from the rain.  He ran to the backseat and wrenched open the door one-handed before digging around inside, leaning slightly to reveal his other arm was wrapped tightly in a sling. He found his quarry after a moment, a large duffel before he slung it over his back and slammed the car door shut. His steps were quick to get to the front door, and she watched him fumble one-handed with the keys for a moment before he shouldered the door open and slipped inside.

It seemed like an odd choice for a man to move into a cottage that was falling apart. He could barely do anything one-handed, and guessing by how he juggled everything, the hand in the sling was his dominant one. Maybe his partner would be coming along to help. Or perhaps this guy was just the investor who bought the place to flip it and sell it to some out-of-town rich people. Just another outsider moving in.

What was she thinking? She was also the outsider, and here she was judging another person who probably had no idea anyone was even paying attention to them.

With a sigh, she gave up on her search for the umbrella and grabbed her purse. The bins would have to wait another day. After one last search of the car to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, Celeste opened the door and ran for it. The rain was freezing, sliding down the back of her shirt and soaking her hair. She shoved the key in the lock and wrenched the door open, lifting it a bit to keep it from scraping the floor before stepping inside.

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

Kyle stared around at the inside of the cottage with a small sigh. When Price said it needed some work, he had sorely undersold how much it actually needed. The smell of must hit him square in the face just a foot inside the place. Then, when he dropped the duffel in the entryway, a cloud of dust floated back up to him, telling Kyle that the place had been empty for months, if not years.

He shuffled down the small hallway to the kitchen, bypassing the living room to the right to find it wasn’t much better. A few cabinet doors were still half open, with plates and cups inside that were probably older than he was. The stove had grease stains all over the top, and Kyle made a face as his feet stopped short of some old mouse droppings in front of the fridge.

“You said it needed a little work,” Kyle muttered into the phone a few minutes later as he climbed up the steps to the bedroom area.

“Not sure I said little, Sergeant,” came John’s voice over the line. It was crackled, sounding like it was coming from a long distance.

“Let me ask Johnny if he remembers what you said,” Kyle answered with a small smile as he toed the metal bedframe of a twin bed.

“He’s busy,” Price answered. Through the tone, Kyle could tell he was grinning as well. “I’ll be there in a couple of days. See what you can get figured out.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll get along just fine one-handed. I’ll have that collapsed porch built in no time,” Kyle answered, his voice dropping humor to reveal his frustration with his injury.

“Don’t overdo it,” Price answered quietly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyle answered as he peeled back the faded yellow comforter before collapsing on the bed. It squeaked ominously under him, and he stiffened, expecting it to give way under his weight, but it still held. “A new bed is the first thing I’m getting,” he answered after a moment. As he shifted, the metal whined loudly under even the slightest movement, threatening to cave.

“Put it on the list,” Price answered before the sound of his hand covering the speaker muffled his voice.

“Just go,” Kyle said before Price could return, telling him he had to cut the conversation short. “I’ll see you in a few days, Captain, as long as this place doesn’t fall apart with me in it first.”

He hung up the line and threw the phone onto the nightstand before rising with a groan. He needed a shower and food. Strolling to the window to peer out at the lake, he watched the rain bounce off the surface, churning the calm image from the pictures Price had shown them all into a raging mess. He stared briefly, taking in the view of the small dock and boat bouncing on the waves and the mountains across the way before a light caught his eye.

This was supposed to be a tourist town, one that many people didn’t truly live in year-round, but yet someone else was here. Kyle narrowed his eyes to watch as the backdoor opened, and a figure appeared. They were wrapped in a bright yellow rain jacket, and he smirked a bit as they gestured for someone to hurry up. He assumed it was a dog that needed to be coaxed to go out in the rain, but when nothing came, he watched as the person stomped out into the rain. They went right toward a bush, and when they bent down, a flash of bright orange streaked in from under it and into the house.

The person righted themselves and stared at the open back door for a moment. He saw the person, a woman, push back her hair into the hood where it had fallen out and saw her mouth moving. If he were to place bets, he would have taken a fiver on the fact that she was cursing up a storm at her errant cat. She stood in the rain a moment longer, twisting to glance out at her dock, where two chairs sat, before making her way back inside herself. When the light finally cut, Kyle turned around and headed down the hall to find a bathroom. He hoped he didn’t fall through the floor or the pipes wouldn’t explode when he turned on the water.

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

“I will leave you out there next time,” Celeste threatened as Samson sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, licking his paws. He was soaked to the bone but still seemed pleased with himself. Celeste was careful never to leave him out when she wasn’t home, especially in the evening. But the little shit had used one of the floor registers to get under the house and out that way. She would need to place another one of the boxes on his newest escape tunnel and figure out a way to secure it from her little Houdini properly.

Bending down, she dried him off as best as he would allow with a tea towel before throwing it in the washing machine. The laundry was piling up again, spilling out the front of it, and she eyed it angrily. She knew she’d need a fresh apron and undergarments for her shift tomorrow. Laundry was just one of those things that always fell to the wayside for her until she was left sniffing a shirt to see how bad it was and if she could reuse it for a third day.

“Dinner first,” she muttered, opening the fridge to stare at her options. Fuck. When was the last time she had been to the grocer? She had half a loaf of bread, a few slices of deli cheese, and some questionable leftovers from the week before. The rest were all condiments and half-drunk bottles of wine. “Cheese it is,” she decided, grabbing the bag and a bottle of wine before wandering to the pantry to open a can of cat food for Samson. He was still attempting to dry himself, but the minute the can popped, he trotted over and began to eat.

Celeste shoved a piece of cheese in her mouth before finally peeling off her dirty work apron and pushing it into the washing machine. She jammed a few buttons, threw in some soap, and started it before collapsing at the kitchen table. The rain was still coming down in sheets outside, and she swigged directly from the bottle, debating how she was going to spend the rest of her evening. Nothing seemed appealing. She could read, of course, but books had lost their charm over the past months. Television was nothing but trash, love stories, or bad news. And unpacking the rest of her boxes was off the list for the time being.

The last time she tried to dig through her hastily packed things, she was smacked in the face by one of his unfinished projects. It was a little thing he had started on a rainy day on a creative whim. She always bugged him about his new hobbies and ideas, how he’d start things but never finished them. But he promised this one would be different because he was making it for her. A promise that felt cruelly ironic as she turned the thing over in her hands while she sat alone in the hallway and cried.

Just another vow that would remain forever unfulfilled.

[spnbabe67]

A Girls Guide On How To Disappear

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Drinking, cursing, angst, mentions of reckless driving,

Summary: Heartbroken from Dean's drunken outburst, Tori flees the Bunker. Dean, regretting his actions searches in vain for Tori, and after months of no luck, he goes on a hunt at the prompting of Sam and in the process, runs into a familiar face.

Word Count: 2191

Authors Note: Here's the long-awaited part 2 of The Simple Act of Breaking Hearts. There will be a part three wrapping everything up coming soon.

It was late by the time that Tori slammed the Bunkers door shut; the hollow clanging echoing through the empty halls. The tears had long since dried on her cheeks, leaving faintly distinguishable tracks. As she quietly made her way from the garage, Tori fervently went about removing the keys from her key ring.

“Tori?” Sam’s sleep-addled voice sounded from behind her. “D’you find ‘im?”

Tori sighed, rubbing the last vestiges of anger and sadness from her face, replacing it with a mask of neutrality before turning to Sam.

“Yeah,” Tori said, forcing down the bitterness that laced the one syllable word. “Belly up at The bar.”

Her blood threatened boiling levels as flashes of a bottle blonde damn near turning Dean's neck into her own personal lipstick tester. You'll still be a pathetic whore who sucks the life out of people. Deans voice, cold and detached, echoed through her consciousness. Tori ran a hand over her head, pushing back through flyaways that had come loose from her braid, courtesy of the wind whipping through the open windows of her car as the tears that filled her vision blurred the red line of the speedometer as she sped back to the bunker.

“I bought him a hotel room for the night along with a bottle of water and Advil. Left the Impala in the parking lot.” While it was a lie, Tori knew deep down that a motel room was where Dean was gonna end up in the morning, and most likely not alone. 

Sam mumbled some incoherent answer, ending in something sounding like a ‘goodnight’ before disappearing back into his bedroom with a soft click of the door. Tori let out a small breath of relief, dropping the mask of pleasantry, thanking Chuck that Sam's sleep-fogged brain didn't question her half-assed lie. Tori's sneakers made little noise as she continued the rest of the way down the hall, stopping before a door. She could see her reflection in the pair of shiny brass ones screwed into the door. Dean's room; their room.

When Tori first moved into the bunker, she'd been put up in room 15, four doors down. But, last week, when she finally stopped fucking around, biting the bullet and telling Dean how she felt, they'd moved her minimal amount of personal items into Dean's room, the latter complaining jokingly about a lack of closet space now for his flannels. Well, he doesn't have to worry about space anymore. Tori shook her head to derail the downward spiral her thoughts were heading on as she knelt to grab her duffle bag from under the bed. Her hand brushed something solid nestled beside the canvas bag. With a quiet swish, Tori pulled her duffle and the shoe box from under the bed.

Her brows furrowed, setting aside her bag and pulled the box into her lap, sitting cross-legged on the cold cement floor. Truthfully, Tori had no idea what was in the box. Her first thought was to Dean's extensive collection of Busty Asian Beauty mags, but those she knew for a fact resided in his nightstand drawer having found them while searching for a lighter Dean had nabbed from her. So, it was a complete shock to her when she found herself staring back at her as she gingerly removed the lid. 

Photos upon photos were nestled in the box amongst other odds and ends, most of which she never knew existed. Her shoulders dropped, remorse flooding her system. Tori picked up a stack of glossy snapshots of the not so distant past. The most recent ones were at the top, like Dean had organized them, the soft edges indicating that he looked at them frequently enough. Some were candid shots of herself unawares of the camera: standing in line at the drive in, waiting for food; Her sleeping form sprawled across the backseat of the Impala after a hunt. Others were posed: herself and the brothers cheesing wide at the cellphone camera; ones of just her and Dean, his arm around her shoulders or waist to hold her close to his body. 

There were funny ones, like one showing herself flipping the camera off, hair wrapped up in a towel after a shower, toothbrush hanging out the side of her mouth; one capturing a particularly ridiculous costume, a glittery mermaid getup from a hunt where a changing was stealing kids from birthday parties, giving Dean the ‘bitch face’. Some had memento’s paperclipped to them like a movie ticket for a double feature of Scream and Friday the 13th attached to a selfie of her and Dean in front of the movie theater. Lotto's and napkins from places they'd stopped around the country. 

Out of all the emotions coursing through her body, shock was the easiest to put a name to. Unable to keep her hands steady, Tori put the pictures back into the box exactly how she’d found them. Shock swiftly turned into confusion, who brought its friend anger as she shoved the box back under the bed. Tori stomped over to the dresser, hauling open the drawers. Vaguely, in a mind a world away than where her psyche was now, she felt the apples of her cheeks grow damp. No longer was the salt laced water expressing sorrow. No, these tears were filled with ire. A sharp, seething, rage, one Tori wasn’t sure who it was aimed at more: Dean, who’d pulled her in, only to let her drop and shatter on the pavement, or herself, for letting him woo her, for letting her walls that had been built and fortified over many years, lower just enough for Dean to worm his way into the foundation and send it crumbling to the ground.

Tori shoved her clothes into her duffle bag with little regard, pulling what little she had in the closet down, taking enough care to not break the hangers. The zipper of her bag, barely containing the balled up cloth, groaned in protest as Tori deposited it onto the bed. Colored pencils and markers clacked together, sliding against whispers of paper as they were stuffed into a backpack until all that was left on the desk sat two sheets of lined paper and the blaze of a yellow pencil. By this time, the rage had evolved from a rolling boil to a light simmer. Ire had shown itself out, leaving in its wake defeat and numbness. Empty, was a good word for it, the lack of emotion and caring that normally buzzed around in her head; the droning static of a tv now shut off, leaving only silence.

Tori had curled herself onto the chair before the desk, knee pulled up to her chest. She rested her cheek on the top of her knee, fingers idly tugging and removing the rough edges of the papers before her where they had been attached to the metal spiral of her notebook. She sighed through her nose, twirling her pencil around her fingers. A slew of words, half-baked thoughts, some more coherent than others traveled through her mind, sifting through them like sand through a sieve. Finally, pencil met paper and from the graphite Tori produced a few lines, just enough to explain herself and say a simple goodbye. Two folds, creases straight and even with Dean’s name on it completed the final severing of ties. Sam’s letter was longer, less clipped language; kinder and warmer than his brothers. She folded it in the same fashion as Dean’s, setting it to the side. 

The chair creaked under her shifting weight as she stood, placing the key to the car she laid claim to and the copy of the key to the garage Dean had made for her on the desk next to the folded piece of paper. Guilt gnawed at her as Tori palmed Sam’s note, hefting her backpack over her shoulders, the weight like a yoke. Her qualms weren't with the younger Winchester. Sam had been nothing but kind to her. A big brother. Another surge of frustration crashed over her, but waned away as quickly as it came. The door clicked shut behind her, like the tumblers of a lock sliding into place. Tori slid Sam's note under his door, pausing for a moment, sending a silent apology before moving on. 

Finality washed over her, Tori’s lip quivering as she dug her blunt nails into her palms, slicing into the half closed wounds from earlier. Her gait halted at the top of the stairs, gazing over the map room lit by a soft glow from the table within. The ghost of laughter echoed through her memory, urging her to remain in the place she'd called home for nearly two years. Exasperation was bellowed back until her body at the harsh reality of leaving. So Tori turned on her heel, storming out of the bunker, letting the door slam shut behind her.

3 Months Later

“Damn it!” Dean shouted, clenching his phone hard enough to make the plastic groan.

Sam looked up around his older brothers, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Dean-”

“Don't ‘Dean’ me Sam,” The older Winchester jabbed his finger at his brother, pacing back and forth in front of the table in the Bunkers kitchen. “She's been gone 3 months and somehow nobody has seen her. It's like she's disappeared off the face of the Earth.” Dean leaned back against the island, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I fucked up, Sammy.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, tapping away at his keyboard. “You kinda did.”

Dean shot Sam a look, glaring at his brother through lowered brows. Sam threw his hands up in a placating gesture.

“All I'm saying is you have a pretty good track record of self sabotaging the good things in your life. And I'd be lying if I didn't say that Tori was the best thing that happened to you since Lisa. Hell, since Cassie.”

“Look, I don’t know what you want me to say man!” Dean threw his arms up in the air. “She’s gone. We have no leads. Nobody has any idea where she is. I’ve called Bobby, Garth, Jody, even the Banes.” He counted the names off on his fingers before snatching the glass off the island and pouring himself a healthy amount of whiskey.

He shuffled over to the table, slumping down onto the stool, gazing into the amber liquor. His emerald green eyes unfocused and gaze clouded with thought and swimming with pain. “Have you heard anything from Eileen?” Dean looked up at his brother over the rim of the crystal tumbler.

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead before combing his fingers through his hair. He was silent for a moment, eyes meeting Dean’s before returning back to the screen of his laptop, a contemplative look crossing over the younger Winchesters face before he spoke. “No. She hasn’t. But she did mention something about having a case. A salt and burn.”

“Do I look like I’m in the mood for a hunt right now, Sam?” Dean gulped down a mouthful of his whiskey, sucking in a breath through his teeth as it burned his throat going down. The green eyed hunter was clad in days old, wrinkled flannel lounge pants and a gray henley stained with alcohol and caked in crumbs from the snacks he’d binged an ungodly amount of in the last week.

“Yes, actually.” Sam shot back. “You need a distraction. Something to get your mind offod the whole Tori thing. And I need a week away from your,” Sam sniffed, nose wrinkling, “cloud of self loathing.”

“First off, fuck you.” Dean downed the rest of his drink. “Secondly, I hate to say this, but you’re right. Maybe, maybe a hunt would help.”

“Alright then. Eileen has a contact in the city who has the details. I’ll send you the address and time.” 

“Fine.” Dean stood from the table, exiting the kitchen.

“Fine.” Sam muttered into thin air as his brothers footsteps faded down the hall.

The blue light of Dean’s phone screen danced across the topography of his face in the dark of the night as he double checked the motel room number Sam sent him on the drive over. The Brass Sierra Motel, room 204. His nose crinkled as he scanned the outside of the decrepit building; the stained and moss rotted siding, windows cracked on some of the windows and ill fitting doors set in door jambs let harsh light creep out from the rooms, including the one in front of him.

Alright, lets get this show on the road. Dean reached up, knocking three times before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket pulled tight against the pouring rain, and stepping back. From behind the flimsy door muffled shuffling followed by an equally muted voice sounded. One second Dean was listening to the metallic rattle of the security chain being removed and the thunk of the deadbolt being disengaged. The next, the dented and worn wooden door opened revealing a familiar set of dark brown, almost black, eyes and long waves of raven hair.

“Tori?”

[awesomefringey]

Hi Sabine, here’s the link to Briana’s house that sold. I compared the kitchen from the real estate images to the deep fake video of Freddie in a kitchen and they match. Being in this fandom has improved my FBI skills no end 😂

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4612-Cielo-Cir-Calabasas-CA-91302/79804322_zpid/

Oof... okay, let's read up:

Sold: $1,600,000 Sold on 12/27/22 (Zestimate®: $1,735,400)

Quintessential Calabasas living! - Gorgeous 4 bedroom home located within a gated community, The Colony at Calabasas. Built in 2006 this beautiful 2 story home boast hardwood floors, new carpets, granite counter-tops, stainless steel appliances, 2 fireplaces, 2 car garage, spa-like master bathroom, with dual walk in closets. Perks include community pool and playground, balconies off the bedrooms, tranquil yard with picturesque hillside views and only minutes from Malibu Country Mart, The Commons of Calabasas, Pepperdine University and Westlake Village. Easy to show. View Virtual tour for Interiors!

Bedrooms: 4

Bathrooms: 4

Full bathrooms: 4

Flooring: Carpet, Hardwood

Appliances included: Dishwasher, Freezer, Garbage disposal,

Laundry features: Room

Total interior livable area: 3,078 sqft

Fireplace: Yes

Parking features: Garage - Detached

Spa included: Yes

View description: Mountain

Lot size: 4,748 sqft

Home type: Single Family

Year built: 2006

Has HOA: Yes

HOA fee: $260 monthly

County: Los Angeles

Heating: Central

Property Type: Residential

Rooms: Breakfast, Living Room, Powder, Master Bedroom

Equipment: Other, Gas Dryer Hookup

Laundry: Room

HOA Fee Frequency 1: Monthly

Source Living Area: Vendor Enhanced

Parking Garage: Garage - 2 Car, Driveway

Source Lot Size Area: Estimated

Style: Spanish

Pool Description: Community

Listing Area: Calabasas

Listing Status: Pending

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way, you're happy without me... (Chapter 2)

Hunterverse AU

Sy, Walter, Curtis (Lumberjack & the 2 bears) x POC Reader "Havoc/TG"

Ex Dean x Reader

Platonic Sam x Reader

Numerous SPN Characters

Summary:

Who said Hunters can't be domesticated...

Warnings:

Angst and Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Hunterverse AU, Polyamory, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Angst and Romance, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Additional Tags to Be Added

Notes:

We get our first POV switch in this chapter. Happy Reading Heathens!

Divider @firefly-graphics Banner @cafekitsune Happy Reading!

Your little caravan of American muscle trudges down the long dirt road to your isolated cabin in the woods. You’re curled up along Sy, per usual, as he ran point in his matte black ‘67 Ford F100. Dean and Sam following closely in Baby while Walter and Curtis hold up the rear in your ‘family’ vehicle, a Dark Gray Dodge Durango. 

The tree lined road opens up to a large clearing where your home proudly sits. Soft light emanates from the living room window, letting you know the timer you have set up for your dogs is working properly. Sy pulls to a stop beside your detached two car garage and rolls down the window, signaling Walter to park in the garage and for Dean to follow suit. 

Killing the engine, he places a kiss to the top of your head as he rolls the window back up. “Come on babygirl. Let’s go be hospitable and what not. Plus you know Jet and Booga are just itchin to get out and run.”

You pull away from his shoulder nodding as you stretch out your sore work muscles. He climbs out of the cab and holds out a massive hand for you to hold on to. As soon as you place your hand in his he tugs you forward into his arms. “Wrap those gorgeous thighs around my waist sugar. You’ve been on your feet all night. If I let you walk all the way into the house you know Walter will have my hide.”

“Since when do you care about what Walter may do?” You look up at his face with a quirked brow.

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do enjoy spoiling you when I can, so just let me carry you inside without any lip just this once.” He huffs.

“Beasty. All you had to do was say you wanted to show off all this burly muscle in front of my ex.” You chuckle out.

“Ha ha. Very funny. Always with the quips. That mouth has and will continue to get you in trouble little one.” He gripes.

You firmly wrap your legs around his wide torso, placing your hands along the nape of his neck so you can run your fingers through the prickly hairs of his buzzcut. “Promise?” You bite your bottom lip as a low growl emits from his chest, vibrating against your core. 

He slams the door closed and pins you to the truck, twisting his fingers in your hair and arching your head back and to the side, exposing your neck. Before you know it, his sharp fangs are scraping against your pulse point as he latches on to your sweet spot. You can’t help but let out a little whimper. 

You feel him smile against your flesh before he pulls back and catches your glazed over eyes. “Come on pretty girl. Better get inside. Everyone is waiting at the door.” You turn towards the door confused. “You know they won't let anyone into our space they don’t personally know without you. United front remember.”

“Right.” You nod your head once. “Let’s get on with it then. I’m exhausted. Make haste fair stead.”

He smacks your ass at the remark and makes his way to the four men waiting at the door.

“Her legs giving her trouble or are you having one of your caveman moments?” Curtis sass’ Sy.

“Do I really need a reason to have her wrapped all around me?” Sy volleys back.

“Alright, Beasty. Set me down so we can get inside already. I can hear Jet and Booga scratching at the door to be let out.” You interrupt their bickering before it escalates. 

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Walter unlocks the door and pushes it open, releasing a flurry of fur as it whizzes by the six of you down the stairs.

“Whoa. What the fuck was that?” Dean asks in shock.

“That.” You point toward the yard where an Irish Wolfhound and a Blue Nose Pit sniff along the ground, looking for places to mark. “Would be our home security. The tall scraggly one is Jet and the stocky one is Booga. Don’t mind them. They’ll come back in when they're ready. Now how about a tour?”

You head inside, stopping in the middle of your living room, arms spread, giving a little turn. “This is the main living slash family room. It’s where the pups spend most of their time so excuse the dog hair while you binge Netflix.” 

You saunter over to your modest kitchen, open the fridge and pull out a pitcher of sweet tea placing it on the counter as Walter cages you in with his large frame, pulling out glasses from the cabinet above. “The kitchen is small but it gets the job done. Tea anyone?”

“I’ll take some.” Sam responds. 

You pour him a glass and hand it over to him, leaning back into Walter as you make you both a glass, like you do every night. You turn your head toward the glass patio doors. “We typically eat out on the porch, weather permitting of course. Tonight’s looking to be a clear sky so once this tour is finished I’ll pour a nightcap to indulge under the stars. It really is the loveliest of views.”

You scoot under Walters bicep and make your way down the hall. “We have one main guest room. That’ll be the last door on the left. We have a bed set up in the study so it counts as one too I guess.” You shrug your shoulders. “First door on the right. The second door is the bathroom. You’ll have to share but you’re used to that already. Let’s take a look at the study so you can decide who goes where.” 

You stand in the door frame as you hold an arm out to usher Sam and Dean in. The room is filled with floor to ceiling built in bookcases stacked with lore. Tucked into the corner is a custom made bed, framed by more built-in shelves full of books.  It looks like a cozy place to curl up. You watch Sam’s eyes light up as they scan the study in its entirety. “I’ll be sleeping here. I don’t care that technically you’ll have more space Dean. I want to get my hands on all this lore as much as possible.”

You just laugh and shake your head. “I had a feeling the bibliophile in you would wind up in here.” You head back down the hall to the set of stairs at the end. “Up these stairs are our room and en suite.”

“You guys use the whole floor for a room and bathroom?” Dean inquiries.

“It’s more of a loft space, but yes we do. Seemed the most logical, seeing as how we all need to fit in one bed.” Curtis states succinctly. Dean just grunts in response as you pass him by back down the hall.

“We also have a gym out in the barn behind the garage. These assholes all get up at an ungodly hour naturally and have all this energy. You can usually find them out there before breakfast. You’re welcome to use it at any time. We keep an extra key for it next to the leashes in the kitchen.” 

You grab the good whiskey and head out on the porch. The men follow suit and find themselves all a place to sit. Sy sets down a tray filled with highball glasses. You begin to pour a generous amount in each. “Just past the barn I have a little greenhouse where I grow everything one may need in our main line of work. So if you need anything for a spell or ritual, just let me know.”

You head over to sit on the wicker couch between Sy and Walter as you all lounge back and converse over good whiskey and the night sky. At some point Curtis slips back inside the house and heads up to your en suite. He grabs all the essentials needed to run you a soothing bath. He knows how tired your muscles are after a night of running the bar. Not to mention the nerves and stress he knows you're trying to hide with the return of your ex. You’ve been open with them about what happened between you two and they know how hard this must actually be for you having him here. 

When the tub is filled to his satisfaction he heads back downstairs to retrieve you. Slinking up behind you sat on the couch, he leans in and places a kiss behind your ear before whispering “Got a nice hot bath waiting for you sweetheart. Come on, let's get you relaxed.”

A sweet smile spreads across your face as you address the men around you. “You’ll have to excuse me. I seem to have a hot date with a relaxing bath. Sleep well when you finally make it inside. Oh and don't drink all my good shit.” You narrow your eyes at Dean at that sentence, he holds his hands up placating you. 

Your bears, kiss each of your cheeks just before Curtis scoops you up and carries you inside up to your waiting bath.

You're completely unaware of the pair of emerald green eyes that follow you until you disappear from sight. A look of longing and regret filling them before vanishing with the finishing gulp of his current glass of whiskey.

Curtis gently places you in the tub. The smell of lavender and sandalwood wafting into the air as you swirl your fingers through the myriad of neon colors your galaxy bath bomb has produced. 

You hum quietly to yourself before turning to your stoic lumberjack, leaning over the edge of the tub. "You know what would make this bath even better, Axe man?"

He leans his frame against the counter. "What would that be, Dew Drop?"

"If I had a big warm chest to lay against instead of this cold porcelain." You gave him your most innocent look. All doe eyed and soft. 

He quirks that stern brow at you. Trying to resist the temptation of your body and sweet disposition. 

You will not be swayed. Not tonight. You push out your bottom lip just the slightest. "Please, Sir. Don't you want to help me relax properly." 

He sighs, arms dropping from across his chest. "Look at you being all soft. How can I resist such a sweet face?" You smile triumphantly as he begins to undress.

He climbs in behind you, pulling you in between his legs to rest your back against his torso. You close your eyes and let your muscles relax, giving in to the warmth and safety you feel. His fingers dance along your skin in a soothing rhythm. “Mmm. That feels nice.”

“Good. You need to relax. I know Dean being here is bringing back things for you.” You open your mouth to protest. “Uh uh. I’m not accusing you of anything or worried about my place in your life. We know where we stand with you. Things didn't end well for the two of you and that brings baggage along with it automatically. I can only imagine how he must be feeling not only seeing you again but finding you all domesticated with us when his try at the apple pie life didn't really work out.” 

“I don’t want to hurt him though. Do you think I did the wrong thing inviting them to stay with us?” You timidly respond.

He lazily draws random patterns along your collarbone. “No baby, I don't. You wanted them to be safe and there is no other place safer than ours for miles. We’ve housed hunters before. It’s no big deal. Even if he is someone you still might have feelings for.” 

“Curtis!” You slap his forearm.

“What? I’m not upset by it. You can’t tell me there aren't residual feelings there. You are very capable of loving more than one person at once. Our little quad proves that. What’s so wrong with still having feelings for him?” He queries at you.

“He took my love for him for granted C. Then he went and tore my heart out regardless of if I was grieving as well. It took too long to trust my heart, let alone anyone else with it, after what he did. It’s not fair to you all, that after you helped me mend the frayed edges and feel safe to love again that he just waltz’ back in and my stupid heart cant help but beat a tiny rhythm for him still. It’s not fucking fair.” You’re starting to get agitated the more you speak about it.

“Hey. Hey. Calm down babygirl. It’s ok.” He wraps you tight in his arms, gently rocking you side to side. “You're right. It’s not fair. But you're also not alone. We can handle it all together. Whatever you want to do. Whatever way this sorts itself out. We’ll do it together.”

You turn in his arms, straddling his thighs so you can face him. You place your damp hands on his scruffy cheeks. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He strokes his thumb along your cheek, wiping away an errant tear before leaning forward and meeting your lips with his. What started out as a sweet and reassuring kiss is slowly heating up into a full blown make out session.  

This is how Walter and Sy, having finished their drinks, find the two of you.

“Don’t mind us, we’re just gonna wash off the bar stench in the big shower. Continue this tantalizing show. It’s part of the reason we placed the tub where we did.” Sy wink’s in your direction as you come up for air, while he and Walter remove their clothes. 

“I need to get clean too.” You pout. “A bath is great for relaxing, but it’s not the best for cleaning one's body.”

“What are you wanting Sunshine? Use your words.” Walter directs.

“I would like to shower with you and Beasty please, Sir.” You calmly state.

Sy groans as he turns the water on. “She said please, Walt. Someone is extra squishy tonight. This your doing, Axe man?”

“I think our girl is feeling a bit vulnerable with the extra house guests. Needs a little reassurance of her place with us.” Curtis imparts.

Walter, naked as the day is long, walks over to the tub and lifts you off of Curtis’ lap, wrapping your legs around his waist as he turns on his heel and heads into the large open shower.

You're still secure in his arms, the rainfall shower head cascading water down your chest as Sy approaches. “I’m more than happy to oblige any need you have, Sugar. Although right now I have a mighty need for a juicy midnight snack myself. Think you can help me out with that Walt.” 

Before you can even think of a retort, Walter spins you around. Your back is now pressed against his chest, legs spread as far as they’ll go with his iron grip on your thighs. Pussy slick and glistening, an open invitation for Sy to feast upon. 

He wastes no time getting on his knees and licking a slow stripe up your aching slit. “Mmmm. Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever tasted.” He teases your folds with his fingers and watches your little hole clench around nothing. 

“Can never get enough.” He runs his thumbs along your lips and spreads you open before devouring you like the beast he is. He’s not holding back tonight, he wants you coming as quickly as possible. He slides two fingers inside you and curls them just so, to hit that soft spongy spot that turns your brain to mush. 

You slap a hand down around his head, the other latches on to the nape of Walters neck, tugging the curls at the base as you climb closer and closer to an orgasm. You can feel him, hard as steel, resting against your back.

With a deep suck and a flick of his wrist you come hard, all over Sy’s face. He growls and moans as he savors every last drop you have to give him. He pulls back with a smug smirk on his face. 

You open your mouth to give your Beasty a smartass comment, but all that comes out is a pitiful moan as Walter impales you on his length. You're still coming down from the wave of your first orgasm as your walls spasm around him and set you off once more.

Sy pulls you into a heated messy kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You bite his lip and beg him to let you return the favor. “Please Sir. Let me suck your cock. I need your taste on my tongue. Need to feel you slide down my throat. Need my belly nice and full for bed.” 

He nips your kiss swollen lips, growling as he pulls back to look at a blissed out Walter. “Hold her hips steady. You know how cock drunk she can get.” He lowers your head down to his angry engorged thickness, precum leaking down his length. You give a few kitten licks before opening your mouth wide, tongue flat, looking up at him with hungry lust blown eyes, signaling that your ready for him to fuck your mouth. 

He slowly pushes in, allowing you to adjust until he hits the back of your throat, where you swallow and let out a little moan, causing him to flex his hips and push in deeper. “Fuck Sugar. This mouth is dangerous, ya know that? Feel so good lodged down your throat. I’m gonna fuck this throat so good. You ready baby?”

You nod your head as best you can, with your mouth overly full and place one hand on his thigh. With the other you reach back searching for Walter’s forearm, gripping his wrist, his hips are flush with your ass, cock buried to the hilt. With a look to each other they begin to move, thrusting in and out at a rhythm they have come to perfect over the years. When one thrusts in the other would pull out.  

Per usual, your two bears were ruining you one deep stroke at a time, as they took what they needed from your body. You were nothing more than a mindless, cock drunk mess, only being held up by the massive mean ravaging your body. No thoughts, no memories, just pure bliss.

On one particular thrust Walter seems to pinpoint your sweet spongy spot, forcing a deep moan out of your throat as Sy thrust back in. “Fuck! Do that again Walt. Make her sing around my cock.” He does just that, making a target out of your g-spot, causing stars to dance before your eyes. 

“You’re close, babygirl. This sweet little pussy is squeezing me so tight, trying to milk my cock. Want us to fill ya up baby? Just make a complete mess of you?” Walter grunts out between thrusts.

Sy pulls out so you can speak. “Please. Want to be full of my bears so bad, Sir.” You whimper out.

“Gonna need you to come all over my cock first babygirl. Come for us and we’ll fill you up real nice.” Walter demands.

That was all you needed to finally let go and explode. Writhing and squirming as you rode out the waves of your climax. Your screams muffled by Sy’s girth as they both continued their pace, prolonging your ecstasy and sending you even further into submissive bliss.

As you crest the next peak of your endless orgasm your men find their own ends. Spilling deep inside you, cocks buried as far as they can go, allowing your convulsing muscles to milk them dry. The large open shower fills with a cacophony of groans, moans, grunts and whimpers that echo off the tile, alerting Curtis, who was emptying the bath and tidying up the room, that playtime is over.   

As you all come down from your highs and the men extract themselves with care from inside you, Curtis makes his way into he shower and over to your lax body. Ignoring his raging hard on, he scoops you up, kisses your forehead and proceeds to take you to the unoccupied side of the shower. He sets you down and begins to clean you up, taking extra care to gently cleanse your oversensitive skin. For such a rough and hardened man, he always seems to handle you with such tender care. 

He leans you against the wall, holding you up with one hand as he quickly cleans away the day from his skin, with the other. Sy and Walter, having gotten their bearings back, go through the motions of cleaning themselves up as well. Now clean and satiated, Curtis picks you back up and carries you to your massive bed. His hard dick rubbing against your hip, pinned against his stomach as he makes his way. There is no way you're about to leave him to handle getting rid of it himself. 

He places you in the center of the bed and turns to lay down to the right of you. As soon as he makes himself comfortable, you swing a leg over his thighs and pull yourself up to sit on his hips. He looks up at you with an arched brow. “Can I help you with something Dew drop?”  

“Mmhmm”. You slowly lift your hips, notching your slick core over his leaking head and inch yourself down his massive girth, giving a little swivel of your hips as they touch his pelvis. “Fuck sweetheart, you feel so good wrapped around me, two cocks weren't enough for you tonight huh?” 

You shake your head “Never enough. Couldn't leave my lumberjack unsatisfied now could I? Need to be full of all of you to be able to sleep peacefully.”

You ride him nice and slow, taking your time to bring you both up before you crash back down to the surface. He watches on with glazed over eyes full of lust and adoration. His roaming hands find they're a way to your collarbone, where calloused fingers gently wrap around the base of your throat. Pulling you down to his prone frame, he wraps a strong arm around your waist, holding you close as he takes control. Pistoning his hips, whispering filthy words laced with sweetness, until your velvety walls clamp around him in surrender and he coats them in his seed.

Body worn out and muscles relaxed, you lazily kiss as Sy and Walter, fresh from the shower, join you in bed. You lay your head on Curtis’ chest and melt into him, warming his cock as several sets of fingers dance along your spine, lulling you to sleep along with the steady thrum of the heartbeat beneath your ear. 

With his room directly underneath yours, Dean, having headed inside right after Sy and Walter, can’t help but overhear you all together. Against his better judgment, he gives in to his body’s response and gets himself off to the free audio porn he’s being provided. 

As he lays there, in the mess he's made of myself, he's inundated with thoughts of the past. He misses being the one to pull all those heavenly sounds out of you. 

"Tsk, tsk there Deano. You better keep it quiet and look like we're just talking. Wouldn't want to get too much attention now would we?"

Currently her hand is in my pants. Her soft fingers wrapped around my stiff length. She’s slowly starting to move her hand up and down my long, hard shaft. Making sure to sweep her palm across my head every few strokes to gather up the precum leaking from the tip.

As she increases her speed, she looks over at me, eyes all innocent and nonchalant. "So, have you seen any good movies lately?" She has the balls to giggle, as she looks me in the eyes, my jaw clenched and eyes staring daggers into hers. Clearly trying desperately to stay quiet. She tightens her grip and I grab her wrist. Pinning her against me, stopping her hand from moving any further.

"Ready to cum already? That was quick." She quips. 

I just smile. "More like, turnabout is fair play darlin’." 

Before she can even fully register what is happening, my hand is down the front of her pants. My middle finger makes small circles against her sensitive clit. I watch as she bites down on her bottom lip to keep from moaning. "Someone's playing dirty. This was supposed to be about you Dean." 

"I just had to see you squirm for me." I declare, sinking my middle finger into her dripping pussy, curving it just right and making light strokes against her g-spot. "Now who's ready to take it someplace else?" I whisper against her ear and pull my hand out of her panties. Licking her juices clean off of my finger. "Mmmm even sweeter than I imagined".

"If you want an even better taste we're certainly gonna have to find some place a little more private." She tells me in a lust filled voice, pulling her hand out of my pants after one more slow and teasing stroke.

Wasting no time, I take her hand and head down the hallway. As we are about to pass the bathroom the door opens and I push us inside and turn the lock.

Grabbing her by the hips, I lift her up and onto the counter. "I wanted to take it slow with you, but you've got me so worked up that I have to have you right now." I pull her in and kiss her hard. Our tongues dance a tango together as she wraps her legs around my waist. Grinding her hot little cunt against the steel rod that's just begging to be released from the confines of my jeans. She moans into my mouth as I tangle my fingers in her hair, trying to get as close to her as possible.

We both come up for air, panting as we try to get our lungs to settle back down. "These leggings have got to go. Hold on to the counter and lift your ass up for me." She does as she’s told, I’ll need to remember that for future play times. In my excitement, I practically ripped them off, panties included.

I watch as she unbuttons my pants, sliding down the zipper, freeing my cock and dropping to her knees. She licks my head, savoring my abundant precum and I pull on her hair, making her look up at me, doe eyes full of lust. "As much as I want to watch and feel your mouth bob up and down on my dick, I need to be inside you right now." With me still in her mouth she swallows me down as far as she can take me before suctioning her way back up, releasing me with a pop and standing up.

"Turn around, put your hands on the sink and look into the mirror. I want you to watch me ruin you, darlin’." She turns around and slowly places her hands on the counter. Smacking her ass, I rub my dick up and down her soaked folds, teasing her before slowly sinking in and bottoming out, giving her a moment to accommodate me, watching her little pussy stretch out around my girth. She’s already whining as she begins to swivel her hips, clearly looking for some friction, as she looks back at me. "Fuck me, Dean. Please. I don't think I can last much longer. I need to be cumming around your cock." 

I grab a fist full of her hair, turning her to face the mirror and begin moving my hips, fucking her hard and fast. This is going to be quick and dirty. Not at all what I wanted for tonight but she just feels too good clamping down on my dick. I can feel my balls slapping against her clit with each thrust making her whimper out from the pure ecstasy of it all. I'm staring into the mirror watching her face as her eyes roll back, swearing and moaning out while I fuck her hard from behind. 

I throw my head back, enjoying how right this feels. "Fuck baby, your pussy is so damn tight, feels so good wrapped around my cock. You ready to cum for me? I need you to cum on my cock before I can cum down your throat."

As he is released from one of the many flashbacks he’s revisited over the years he gets up to clean up his spunk covered abdomen. Cleaning his fingers and torso free of his spend with baby wipes from his go back, he continues to let his mind wander. 

One of his biggest regrets was choosing to go be with Lisa after Sam’s swan dive and letting you leave. He was too blinded by his grief and pain to notice he already had everything he ever wanted in you. He was a fool to never make it official or tell you he wanted so much more with you. Now it looks like he may not ever have the chance to make it right. 

The aroma of sizzling bacon mixed with the thick scent of coffee beans rouses him from his fitful slumber. All night he was plagued with memories of the past and futures he may never see. Surprisingly a couple of those futures featured your little harem of men with the added bonus of him. Those thoughts certainly threw him for a loop. He always thought of himself as possessive and unable to share more than when sex was involved.

His stomach alerted him to his need for caffeine and sustenance. It’ll be fine. You can do this. So what if you may have screwed up the best thing that you never knew happened to you and you have to watch three other people get to have what you secretly crave.

He makes his way down the hall, stopping in his tracks at the entry to the kitchen as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. Elvis’ Reconsider Baby is playing from the Bluetooth speaker on top of the fridge. You're swaying your hips to the beat as you crack eggs into a pan. You're clearly relaxed and lost in the music as you carry on about making breakfast. 

The vision of you is obscured by Sy strolling up behind you, hands on your hips, as he places a kiss to your neck before reaching over with his right hand to remove the skillet of bacon from the stove. He takes a moment to move with you, allowing you to swivel and grind against him to your heart's content. He hears him growl out a soft ‘behave’ before he nips your shoulder and pulls away to place the cooked bacon on a plate to take out to the porch. 

A sweet and downright dopey smile fills your face as you return to finishing up the eggs. Losing yourself once again to Elvis’ bluesy tune. You always had this connection to the blues, said that no matter your mood there was always a blues song to capture the feelings and help you sort through them. If that was still true then surely this morning's song had to mean something. 

He can’t lie to himself, watching you be all domestic and sweet with Sy, has him feeling rather jealous. It’s eye opening seeing you so relaxed and happy. He used to be the one to make you smile like that. How can he compete with three men who are so clearly devoted to you? Would you even want that? Could he possibly share if it means he gets you?

Trying to steel himself, he buries his thoughts for a more appropriate time. Gazing around the kitchen, he spots a half complete puzzle on a small table in the corner, and can't help but smile. "You still do the whole group puzzle thing?"

You turn to give him your undivided attention. "Never stopped.” You shrug your shoulders. “Just finished them by myself for a while. Then they came along and well it made sense to let them in on it. Now any time one of us passes by we add a piece or work on it for a bit." You smile sweetly at him. “You can add to it if you like. No obligations though. I know it was more me and Sam’s thing back in the day.”

You return to finishing up the eggs, plating them and heading out to the porch to place them among the rest of breakfast. As soon as your back is turned, he grabs a piece and places it where it belongs on what looks to be a puzzle full of succulents. He follows you out to where everyone is already sitting waiting to partake in the morning feast. 

He watches as Walter pulls you down onto his lap. Locking his arms around your waist and nuzzling your throat, making you laugh out from the tickling of his scruffy beard against your sensitive flesh. He reluctantly takes the last open seat, right next to Sam, currently nose deep in the case file, but across from the two of you. 

He tries to keep his eyes to himself as everyone fills their plates. Ignoring that you don’t even get to lift a finger as they load up all your favorites on the table and place the plate in front of you before they go about filling their own. 

Just look at how good they are to her. She trusts them implicitly. I used to have that. But Mr. Self Sabotage had to go and chase her away.

His slow descent into further melancholy is thankfully interrupted by Sam. "So get this…"

[shywhumpauthor]

The Merry Whump of May—Day 2

“Need a ride?”

Wrench | Paranoia | Club

Masterlist

Cw: detailed descriptions of gore, all hurt no comfort, torture, heavy abuse, restraints, kidnapping, hand/eye/mouth whump, heavy dehumanization, broken bones, blood, amputation, implied death/murder, whumper turned whumpee, caretaker turned whumper, just be careful with this one friends

The garage light flickered.

Caretaker glanced up, their lips pressing thin together. It must have been years since they’d last changed it—if ever. They weren’t prone to spending time in the garage. Detached from the house, it served more for storage than anything. There had been a point where they had parked their car in there, but it hadn’t lasted more than a few weeks before it came more inconvenient to store it away than just leave it in their driveway.

Now, the garage was home to many boxes, bins covered in dust and stacked messily. There was a workbench against one wall, scattered with tools and stray nails. Their woodworking phase hadn’t lasted very long either. But that was alright. They found a different use for all the tools they had bought, birdhouses in mind when they had first gone to the hardware store. That certainly wasn’t what they had been shopping for the last time they had walked out of the shop, three bags weighing their arms.

Some of the stuff had been for Whumpee. A lock for the inside of their bedroom door, because the door to Caretaker’s guest room didn’t have a lock and they wanted Whumpee to be in control. Never again would they be on the other side of a lock. They had free rein of the house, Caretaker encouraged them to poke around and explore.

“It’s your house too, Whumpee. There’s nothing in here that will hurt you.”

They had bought a can of pale green paint, and a plastic sheet that they had draped over the bed, desk, and dresser Whumpee helped them push to the center of the room—though they weren’t particularly strong anymore, quite likely hindering the effort more than helping, Caretaker had let them. They spent the entire day painting the dull beige walls. Whumpee’s favorite color was green.

They bought lights, the kind that strung across rooftops when Christmas was near, a soft yellow glow, and they had hammered small tacks around the crown mounding to hang them as a surprise for Whumpee.

That hammer, they had bought too. They had one, somewhere in their indoor toolbox, but it had the build of a rock tied to a stick. They needed a better hammer than that, so they had splurged a bit. It was heavy and steel, a clawed end opposite the head. If Caretaker dropped it, it would likely shake the entire house.

It was a nice hammer.

The garage had a stale feel to the air, dry and dusty. It was cold outside, in just a month or so, Caretaker would have to start preparing for it to snow. They wrapped themself in a jacket before going out, a black pullover that they zipped and flipped up the hood.

They shut the door behind them with a slam, rattling the walls. A grin, a genuine smile curled across their lips at the panicked little whimper that cut through the dim room.

Caretaker didn’t think of themself as a violent person. Not at all. They were gentle and caring and nurturing—just look at Whumpee, seriously. Barely a month into their recovery, after years of captivity, torture, and conditioning, they were already beginning to show fragments of their old self. Little broken shards, but Caretaker could see, when they made Whumpee’s favorite for dinner, or invited them to curl next to them for a movie night, the little light that would flicker in their eyes. They recognized it. Slowly, they were putting the mirror back together, the glass that had shattered on its way to becoming whole.

They would never hurt anyone, especially not Whumpee. Caretaker was the kind of person who, if they found a spider in their house, would grab a cup and a piece of paper and move it out to their back yard, rather than smush it.

Caretaker hummed to themself, a single melody echoing through the exposed insulation like a cavern. They crossed the garage, after making sure to lock the door, to their workbench, where they pulled on a thick pair of gardening gloves. Something else they had gotten from the hardware store.

That place really had everything.

They stopped humming.

“You know what Whumpee told me today?” They spoke lightly, voice carefree, a tone that one might use when discussing their day with a partner over dinner.

“They told me about this one time, when they tried to escape, you made them choose. Either have both their ankles broken, or have two fingers cut off.” Caretaker tugged open one of the drawers, grabbing their new hammer. Not a single mark on it. Not even a scratch from the tacks or a dent. They set it on top of the desk, before reaching back in to grab a wrench, pliers, and a box cutter, setting it all in a neat pile. They turned to look across the room, leaning one arm against the desk.

They had cleared out a corner of their garage, moved all the bins out of the way to create an alcove of sorts. They had laid a tarp down over the cement, not because Whumper didn’t deserve to sleep in fucking cold cement for the rest of their life—however long Caretaker decided to drag that out to be. Only because they didn’t want to get blood on the floor. That crap stains.

They were so fucking pathetic, Whumper. Their hands bound in front of them, duct tape winding countless times around their wrists and forearms, inhibiting all movement. The tape snared around their torso, pinning their arms to their sides. Their legs were bound also, with a coil of rope, tied at the ankles, knees, and thighs, as tight as Caretaker had managed to pull it.

Their fingers were free, Caretaker supposed that they could simply reach out and grab something that could help cut them loose, but they’d taken care of that issue, weeks ago.

Their bones had snapped surprisingly easily in Caretaker’s hands. At least their pinky and ring finger. The other ones, Caretaker had to resort to stomping down on them, crushing the joints beneath their heel as they ground their boot against the flesh.

Now they doubted that Whumper could even twitch their fucking fingers. Crooked and swollen, blood trapped beneath the skin, knuckles split open.

They were covered in blood and grime, built up over weeks. Their skin was pale, mottled with bruises of all stages and colorings, slick with sweat. Caretaker had only taken them out once, dragging them behind the garage when they were sure Whumpee was asleep to drench them down with the back hose. They’d need to do that again soon. Their nose wrinkled as they stepped closer.

They weren’t blindfolded, but Caretaker doubted Whumper could make out much. One of their eyes nearly swollen shut, the other slit with a deep gash cutting from their eyebrow to their cheekbone, they weren’t seeing crap. They were gagged, though, an old cloth shoved in their mouth and secured in place with duct tape, winding around the back of their head. It couldn’t have been good for their jaw, which Caretaker had broken only a week ago. The teeth, a handful molars which Caretaker had first cracked and knocked loose with the hammer, twisted the rest of the way and ripped out with the pliers they now picked up, were certainly not feeling great now. They didn’t care. Really, it amused them to see the way Whumper squirmed and mumbled, incomprehensible sounds behind the gag that they were sure were pleads for either mercy or death—Caretaker supposed those would be synonymous by now though.

The funniest part, though, was something Caretaker had decided at the last moment. Whumpee had never mentioned anything about it, but Caretaker had noticed the bruises. The slight indented ring around their throat, only visible if you were really looking for it, finally fading with a special balm that Caretaker had spent a week’s paycheck to get. The shit was expensive, but it helped, and the scars—the older ones, at least—were finally beginning to lighten. A thick leather collar, one Caretaker had found in the pet care aisle. A small box on the back, two short studded prints jutting out into Whumper’s neck. The remote sat tucked in Caretaker’s dresser, the top drawer. It had a hell of a range. Sometimes they’d wake up in the middle of the night and twist the dial for no good reason.

Scratch that, there was a good reason. With Whumper, any reason was a good fucking reason.

They had been half tempted to buy a crate, as well, when they were at the store. One of those wire ones that would be uncomfortably small for any animal, let alone a human- if Whumper could even be considered that anymore. They certainly weren’t in Caretaker’s mind. But they had already spent more money than they should have, not that they were tight on funds, but Caretaker always liked to have at least a couple hundred emergency cash on their card, so they didn’t get it. Maybe they’d go back, after they get paid for the week. Toss a blanket over it, make sure Whumper was tied up as cramped as possible, maybe they’d shove a pair of noise canceling headphones over their ears, and let Whumper really suffer for a bit, left alone with only their pain to keep company.

“Their limp is getting better, you know, they don’t need the crutches anymore.” Caretaker stopped only a foot from the edge of the tarp, looking down in disgust. The hammer hung loosely from one hand, pliers and wrench and box cutter held together in the other.

“I think that would be equal to… ankles, knees, and four fingers? Five? Ah, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to lose them all eventually. I say we start with four, then if you’re still conscious, we can continue. Sound fair?”

Of course it did. Whumper wouldn’t agree, panic flickering through the small slit of their eye, some sort of whine swelling in their throat. But it didn’t matter if Whumper agreed. They didn’t get a choice.

Caretaker took the sound as an affirmative.

“You agree? Oh, Good.”

They dropped the tools, hitting loudly against the floor.

“I was thinking we’d start with the middles, remember how you broke Whumpee’s when they flipped you off?“

Caretaker grabbed the box cutter.

“We’ll take this nice and slow today. Whumpee’s staying the night at Old Friend’s place, so we have all the time in the world.”

They couldn’t keep the blood contained on the tarp this time, a trickle of red running off the edge and spilling onto the floor.

This was far worth having to clean up afterwards.

———————————————

@themerrywhumpofmay

There’s so many tropes I want to write for the rest of may but I want to write them all right now and I can’t decide aaaahhhhhh I’m probably going to end up writing nothing lmao