#don’t take it too serious if you get attend (somehow??)

[holdinggrudges]

what's my flavor?

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball.

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store. 

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine. 

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it. 

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy. 

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance. 

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score. 

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where. 

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?” 

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.” 

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.” 

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?” 

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over. 

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.” 

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.” 

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’ 

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’ 

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow. 

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you. 

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless. 

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month. 

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant. 

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.” 

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.” 

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.” 

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious. 

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library. 

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.” 

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.” 

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time. 

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too. 

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up.  He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?” 

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense. 

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly. 

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.” 

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.” 

“I’ll text you,” he agrees. 

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life. 

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags. 

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut. 

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before. 

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response. 

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway. 

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing. 

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’ 

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too. 

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised. 

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car. 

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers. 

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is. 

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’ 

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage. 

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door. 

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?” 

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?” 

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?” 

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?” 

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out. 

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.” 

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further. 

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.” You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that. 

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?” 

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help. 

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.” 

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.” 

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?” 

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?” 

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before. 

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again. 

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?” 

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.” 

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?” 

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.” 

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?” 

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.” 

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.” 

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” 

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.” 

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?” 

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.” 

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.” 

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door. 

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit. 

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?” 

  You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general. 

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight. 

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately. 

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him. 

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.” 

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.” 

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw. 

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.” 

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.” 

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that. 

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?” 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.” 

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.” 

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.” 

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.” 

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss. 

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing. 

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.” 

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?” 

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.” 

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that. 

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are. 

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.” 

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry. 

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. !You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.  

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up. 

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips. 

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.” 

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you. 

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I’m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.” 

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?” 

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.” 

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?” 

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.” 

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t. 

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond. 

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed. 

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw. 

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.” 

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought. 

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now. 

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his. 

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease. 

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there. 

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that. 

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?” 

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated. 

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down. 

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.” 

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. 

 “Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again. 

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?” 

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.” 

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go. 

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.” 

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.” 

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory. 

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.” 

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm. 

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?” 

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already. 

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?” 

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…” 

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said. 

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?” 

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”  

“And,” you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

[jeireilostt]

I saw a voice over tiktok of this scene!! So I decided to do one myself.

(the original idea is from @doodlepiss / holy crap that’s a funny name)

I will warn you a lot of f-bombs are in here in case you don’t want to hear that. Also I do say the word Queer in case nobody want to hear that.

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.��

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[ohbueckers]

EXTRA POINTS. blurb!

pairing, paige bueckers x fem!reader. notes, glasses p fic per request of a few queens… MAMA WORKED AS FAST AS SHE COULD! @thaatdigitaldiary @absolutelydreadful & credits to @justliketoreadsowhat ‘s anon for the detail. warnings, none just fluff? sexual jokes as well because who am i without them, like…

the night air is still pretty warm, the scent of freshly cut grass still tingling your nostrils after the soccer game you attended with paige and her teammates. it had been a long night—filled with cheering, concessions, and paige’s arm constantly draped around your shoulder as she proudly showed you off. she somehow convinced you to tag along, but watching her light up during the game made it worth it.

now, you’re walking back to the dorms, the sound of sneakers and laughter being the only thing heard off the empty sidewalks as the team stalks a few yards in front of the two of you. paige has her hair slicked back into a messy low bun, a few strands falling loose, and her purple glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. the lenses catch a subtle blue tint from the streetlights, a little detail you can’t stop staring at—honestly, she looks so good, it’s borderline unfair. you never thought purple glasses could be your weakness, but here you are.

“you enjoying the ice cream, or are you too busy staring at me?” paige teases, glancing over with that signature smirk. she knows exactly what she’s doing, making it impossible to look away from her.

“shut up, paige,” you reply with a scoff, although there’s no ruthless intent as you nudge her with your elbow. “i’m just enjoying the quiet now that your fan club’s calmed down.”

“oh, you love it!” she laughs out, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “don’t act like you don’t love watching me be all famous and stuff. plus, you looked cute taking all those pics with me. so i ain’t complainin.’”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping up on your face. paige had been asked for a picture more times than you could count on your hands, and obviously the tiktoks came with that. she’d dragged you into most of it, keeping you close the whole time, making sure everyone knew you were hers. it was chaotic and you were used to it at this point, and you could admit there was something fun about watching her be in her element.

“alright, maybe it was kinda fun,” you say, taking a bite of the spoonful of ice cream she’d held out for you so casually. the cold hits your tongue, and you savor the flavor for a second before narrowing your eyes at her. “but you still owe me.”

paige jerks her head back, grinning and clearly enjoying herself. “owe you? i’m literally spoon-feeding you right now. how do i still owe you?”

you quirk an eyebrow up at her, leaning in a little as you held her gaze, and it was the kind of look that said enough.

she chuckles, leaning back slightly, still holding the spoon in front of you like she’s ready for round two. “aight, fine, i’ll give you that. but let me get you back at home, baby—i got some ideas.” her voice drops a little lower, clearly playing but also half-serious. she may be all jokes, but she definitely knows how to back them up.

before you can even respond, she takes her own spoonful of your ice cream, the nerve, flashing a cheeky grin before planting a wet, playful kiss right on your lips. the cold of the treat and the warmth of her mouth clash, leaving you squealing and half-laughing, trying to push her away. “paige!” you protest, wiping the ice cream from your lips, but there’s no hiding the wide smile breaking out across your face. she’s such a menace sometimes.

as if one cue, everyone seemed to have glanced back at the right time, catching sight of something straight out of a rom-com.

“yo! they really can’t keep their hands off each other.” kk’s voice cuts through.

“really can’t take them nowhere…” aubrey quips.

sarah laughs, chiming in. “oh, we see you, paige! real smooth,” and morgan practically doubles over in laughter beside her.

paige smirks, and you swore she would’ve thrown up those rizz hands if her hands weren’t full. “what can i say?” you smile yourself, shaking your head at her and leaning into the blonde’s side as the banter from behind fades into the background. as much as paige plays around, the way she’s been with you tonight—keeping you close, showing you off, feeding you ice cream like it’s the most natural thing in the world—it’s those little moments that make it so easy to fall for her. every laugh, every teasing smile, even the way she annoys you, it’s like she knows exactly how to keep your guard down. and honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

“you know, you didn’t have to buy me ice cream,” you say softly, looking up at her.

“nah, i did,” paige replies, her voice gentle. “had to make sure my girl knows i take care of her. plus,” she smirks again, looking away like she’s cooking up some mischievous ass reply. “i’m tryna’ score some extra points for later.”

you laugh, shoving her off of you yet she barely flinches. “yeah, okay, keep dreaming.”

paige pulls you even closer, kissing the side of your head as your arms fall to your sides. she murmurs, “dreaming? nah, i’m ms. make it happen.”

[carpentvrs]

VICIOUS – Theodore Nott

pairing :: theodore nott x f!reader (implied Gryffindor!reader but never mentioned)

summary :: (enemies to lovers). when you and theo get paired up for the nightly prefect-patrols, the yearlong hatred between the two of you may come to an end. or not.

based on the song vicious by sabrina carpenter

warnings :: angst!! she/her pronouns, use of y/n & y/l/n (only a few times), lots of cursing, british, mentions of killing someone (not serious), smoking, drinking, typos probably, 4.1k words

a/n :: english isn’t my native language so please don’t mind any mistakes and feel free to correct me! this is my first story published on tumblr so i’m a bit nervous. my requests are open, feel free to share your ideas and I’ll come up with something!!

„As a result of the ongoing danger in and outside of Hogwarts, the prefects will now walk around in pairs during their nightly patrols after curfew. And to show that Hogwarts and the witches and wizards attending this school stick together in such times, we have decided to pair up prefects from different houses.“

Harry, Ron, Hermione and you sat on your usual seats in the great hall as Professor McGonagall made the announcement. The boys and Mione didn’t really care about the announcement, considering none of them are prefects. Hermione at least listened to what the professor was saying, sometimes poking Ron in his arm to make him stop bickering and start listening, too.

You however, you didn’t take the news as easily as your friends.

Once you realized that being friends with Harry had its downsides, you started to appreciate the everyday repetitiveness. The homey things.

Ignoring the strength of the dark side in the wizarding world, you found comfort in the mornings at Hogwarts that were always the same. The fun you had at lunch with the boys and Hermione and the quidditch trainings and matches you could always look forward to.

It gave you a sense of normality in an abnormal world, just like your nightly patrols did.

Whatever may have happened during the day, you could overthink it during those few hours you had for yourself as you walked through the dark corridors of Hogwarts, occasionally greeting and having small talk with the other prefects or scolding the little amount of students you would catch sneaking around from time to time.

Those patrols were your way of coping with stress, wherever it may have come from. Usually school, or the cognition that Voldemort won’t be scared to lift his wand against you and your friends the next chance he gets, whenever that might be. Not very soon, you hoped.

𖤓 𖤓 𖤓

„They’ve got to be kidding! There’s no bloody way I can go on those patrols with this assholes every damn night.“

You were furious. Taking away your alone time was one thing, but pairing you with none other than Theodore Nott, the biggest dickhead to ever walk the corridors of Hogwarts, that just had to be a sick joke.

You hated his guts. You hated his manwhore-behavior and his obnoxious superior complex. He thinks he’s too good to attend any of his classes and simply uses his prefect-advantages to take points from Gryffindor students for fun. You doubted he knew what playing fair even meant.

Every damn house party, he somehow felt the need to judge either you outfit, you hair, your makeup or just anything else he can find to complain about. And as if that wasn’t enough, he loved taking advantage of your resentment towards hookup culture, never failing to somehow end up right next to you while one of the many girls who seem to be kissing the ground he walks on was hanging on his lips as if he’d remember her name tomorrow.

And don’t get started on quidditch. the amount of times you leave the pitch with at least a dozen new bruises just because of him almost makes it seem like having pushed him off his broom that one time wasn’t enough yet.

In comparison to you and Theo, Harry and Draco were just two puppies occasionally fighting over who gets to play with the stuffed animal first.

“Look- maybe it won’t be that bad, maybe you’ll even, I don’t know, start getting along?” Hermione tried to cheer you up, already knowing that “possibility” isn’t that probable.

“Oh come on Mione, Nott just has to look at Y/N and she basically explodes with anger. We have to be careful she doesn’t accidentally kill him one night.”

“Shut it, Weasley, this isn’t helping. I have to go and talk to professor McGonagall. Mione, come with me?” you asked.

“I’d love to, but curfew is about to start. I don’t wa-“

curfew only meant one thing: the nightly patrol

˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° .

He was different than you thought. He wasn’t that bad. Not when you two were alone. A few months had gone by and, even though the first nights were a bit rough, you both managed to get along well. Really well, actually.

It became a wordless understanding that in the depths of the night, in the comfort of the quietness, when the only source of light in the castle were your wands and the lumos spell, you two weren’t hateful classmates. You were friends. Good friends even.

“I’m so tired, and why is this damn school still freezing cold at night? Bloody hell it’s june” you yawned. It was almost midnight and you and Theo had decided to sit down on one of the stairs. It’s been a long day and night, the younger students seemingly wanting to be outside during the warm summer nights. Understandibly so, you thought.

“You’re shivering, want my jumper?”

He handed it over to you after pulling it off of his body, accidentally showing a tiny bit of his toned stomach. You couldn’t help but look, slightly biting your lip to hide your smile.

You happily accepted the offer and slowly pulled the jumper over your head, your stomach suddenly feeling warm and fuzzy when you smelt his cologne. You breathed in and mumbled a small “thanks” to be boy next to you.

It wasn’t the first time he had given you his jumper. And it also wasn’t the first time you’ve felt this fuzziness in your stomach because of him, and you knew what it meant.

And he felt it too.

Theo never liked you either. He hated your goody two-shoes behavior in front of the professors and the way you would scrunch your nose in disgust whenever you saw him smoking. Sometimes he lit his cigarettes near you just to annoy you.

It all started when in fourth year, you accidentally kicked him off his broom during a friendly quidditch match. He didn’t get seriously hurt, he just felt humiliated. Even worse, by you, a girl he had been convinced to dislike ever since you befriended Theo’s best friend’s sworn enemy, Harry.

You wanted to say sorry the next morning during breakfast, but he strutted away right after seeing you on your way over to him. He was mad at you for embarrassing him, and you found his behavior childish. You both would’ve sworn that this hatred was going to be endless. Until now.

And that scared him.

He couldn’t possibly fall for the girl he had despised all these years. It wouldn’t work anyway. Their houses, their families and their friends just wouldn’t allow it. And their egos wouldn’t either.

Who was Y/N to fall for someone who treated other girls so poorly? Someone who dared to call her best friend worthless and walk around in school he as if he was just better than her and her friends.

But in intimate moments like these, with your head gently placed on his shoulder and his warm jumper wrapped around your body, you both forgot. You forgot about you’re prejudices, about your friends and your families. It was just you two.

Sometimes you wondered if he felt the same way. You doubted it.

As soon as the sun rises, the birds start singing and the castle starts awaking from its tranquil sleep, the peace between you two stopped. His smoking annoyed you. At parties he’d still sneak around with girls. After quidditch matches you’d be still fuming with anger.

Therefore you wished you could stay like this forever. You felt safe in moments like these. Perfectly at peace.

Even though the feeling in your stomach when he looked at you or when you smelt his cologne was the same as always, tonight felt different. The usual comforting silence felt awkward and tense, like something that was yet to be said already made things harder.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

Theo sighed.

“My friends would kill both of us if they saw us like this.”

“So what? I don’t care about you friends.” You scoffed. “I mean, they can’t know.” he said, almost in a whisper.

“Know what?” you asked as you slowly lifted your head from his shoulder and your eyes locked together. His gaze drifted from your eyes to your delicate lips and the air surrounding you was suddenly filled with a heavy tension and desire.

Your breath hitched and your whole body felt like it was on fire as he carefully started to caress your cheek. He leaned in and finally, his lips touched yours. The feeling of your soft lips on his slightly chapped ones was intoxicatin. The kiss was gentle yet passionate and in that exact moment, nothing else mattered.

All doubts you had suddenly left your mind, the only things you could think about being the feeling of his lips on yours, and the fact that you never want this to stop.

You wrapped your hand around his neck as the kiss deepened and it went on like this until you both pulled away to catch your breaths.

And ater that kiss, everything changed.

For the worse

His gaze landed on your eyes once again. And as your expression softened, his became harder. And darker. And the eyes you found yourself lost in just seconds ago suddenly turned cold.

“Did I do so-“

“Give me my jumper. I want to go to bed.”

“What?” You huffed. He can’t be serious right now, right?

“Give it to me, Y/L/N. Our job here is done and I’m tired.”

You scoffed and quickly pulled the emerald green piece of clothing over your head, breathing in his scent for the last time that night. He snatched it out of your hands and left without another word, leaving you alone on the huge staircase, confused and upset.

˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° .

The next morning was even weirder. Your friends had to basically drag you out of bed and once you were seated in your usual seat in the great hall, you just couldn’t stop trying to catch his eyes.

But he seemed rather…. busy. Either you were imagining things or Pansy Parkinson was currently seated on his lap. At breakfast. You frowned and slowly picked at your food with your fork, never taking a single bite.

“Y/N, I think that’s your owl!” Hermione said, the daily prophet in one hand, a teaspoon in the other to stirr her tea. Once the letter dropped onto your lap, you swiftly opened it before quickly patting the owl on its head as a goodbye.

“It’s from professor McGonagall”

“What does it say?” Harry asked, seemingly interested.

You squinted your eyes and Hermione immediately went to look over your shoulder, reading it too as you turned the letter to show her.

“It says that she took notice of my complaints about the pairing and that changes will follow quickly. But I never went to complain about it. And we also never talked about it in class.” You scoffed. The letter was clearly directed at you, and professor McGonagall wasn’t exactly known for making mistakes like sending letters to the wrong person.

Meaning, someone else must’ve told her.

“At least you don’t have to spend any more time with that snob.” Ron chimed in, chewing on his breakfast. You just nodded.

You stopped listening to the conversation as Hermione started to complain about Ron’s table manners and you let your mind wander back to Theo. It must’ve been him who somehow told McGonagall about your complaints. It wasn’t that hard to believe him, considering the professors already knew about the hateful relationship you and Theo had going on.

“I’m gonna go tell Alex, maybe I’ll get paired with her.” You said, getting up from your seat. The trio hummend and waved at you, already being used this.

It wasn’t the whole truth. Yes, if Theo wanted to be a bitch then you definitely wanted to be paired with Alex instead of anyone else. But she also was the only one who knew about you and Theo, and you definitely needed to update her on what’s going on currently. You didn’t dare to tell the Gryffindors, afraid of how they might react. Maybe cutting off contact with you wasn’t so stupid of him. But it was so vicious.

Alex and you have already been friends before you even received your Hogwarts letters. You confided in her with everything, hence she also knew what had been going on between you and Theo these past few months.

She waved you over when she saw you walking towards the Hufflepuff table, letter still in hand. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to sit down. You exchanged quick hellos, and then you began talking, sharing every so tiny detail about last night. And the letter. And the still ongoing situation he had with Pansy Parkinson on his lap, giggling about something he said. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. And he didn’t spare you a single look.

“That fucking twat! He can’t just kiss you and then pull shit like this! You should beet him up, honestly. Even better, kick him off his broom again.” Alex suggested, maybe a bit too loudly, as you were on you way towards potions. Breakfast had already ended and because you didn’t want to keep sitting where everybody could hear you, you decided to leave a bit earlier and take the longer way to the classroom.

“Yeah- I don’t know Lex, this is so weird. I used to hate him all this time and now- now I’m crying after him? This is so stupid”, you murmured, “maybe it’s better this way. Everything will go back to the way it was before and I’ll just- forget.”

But it didn’t go back to how it was before. He didn’t go back to calling you names. And whenever he saw you in hogsmead, he didn’t wait for you to cross paths to light his cigarette anymore like he usually did to annoy you. He just ignored you. And that frustrated you even more. Why couldn’t he just act normal? Why did he have to suddenly act as if you died? As if you just didn’t exist anymore? Why did he have to constantly remind you that something between you did change? How were you supposed to forget it about it like this?

Even in classes, when you dropped something, when you gave the wrong answer or when your potions turned into nothing more than a weird bubbling brown liquid and Snape scolded you for it, even when you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone, he wouldn’t comment it. Draco would mock you. And Mattheo would laugh. Occasionally, if he saw you on your way out, Blaize would annoyingly remind you of whatever had happened in class. But Theo? He wouldn’t look. He wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t care.

But, to your luck, every last Saturday of the month, the students threw a party with all students from every house invited. Only if they were of age. The houses always took turns on whose common room the party will be held in, and July was Slytherin’s turn. Meaning Theo would definitely be there.

Originally, you didn’t want to act so petty. But you felt used after all these months of him pretending. So, there was only one thing you had to keep in mind for a few more weeks;

revenge is a dish best served cold.

And you managed. By now, you had already told Hermione about Theo and even though she didn’t like the thought of you and him at first, considering you spent lots of time together, it made sense. After all, she said it herself when you first got the message of having to go patrolling with him. Maybe you’d start getting along.

So, for the next party, Alex, Mione, and you came up with a tiny, harmless plan. You didn’t know if it would work because his ignorance towards you was still going strong, but it was worth a shot. And a little jealousy never hurt anyone anyway, right?

˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° .

You dressed up. You needed to break his façade one way or another. A tight-fitting, almost-too-short red dress and your favorite jewellery delicately hanging around your neck and wrists with a few rings around your fingers.

You weren’t overdressed, but you didn’t usually go to parties like this. You just went there to have fun with your friends, get drunk and take your mind off of things, never to catch anybody’s attention. You were beautiful dressed up or not, boys always tried to ask you out at those parties no matter what you were wearing, but you always nicely rejected.

Today, you wouldn’t.

After you finished off you makeup with mascara and lipgloss, you put on your heels and finally made your way over to the dungeons, Hermione and Alex right next to you. The boys went first, you assumed they’ve already had some drinks, so hopefully the vibe wouldn’t be too bad.

“This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not.”

“He probably won’t even look at me, just like he did the whole past month” you sighed, suddenly not feeling as confident anymore.

“If you won’t catch his attention, then surely someone else’s.” Hermione tried to cheer you up once again. “And it’ll at least help you take your mind off of him.” Alex added.

They are right, you told yourself. Just go inside, drink something to calm your nerves, and don’t focus on him.

Easier said than done. The moment you stepped a foot inside the common room, decorated with green lamps and lights, dark leather sofas and with loud music beaming through your ears, your eyes immediately searched for him. He was sitting there, hidden in a dark corner with a ravenclaw girl all over him, but his eyes focused on you.

You locked eyes.

Your breath hitched.

Goosebumps formed all over your body.

You looked away.

Your eyes settled on Harry who was calling you over, a drink for you in his hand. You took it from him, ready to just enjoy yourself and have a good time. For now.

You were more than just tipsy, stumbling over your words and your own feet. Your feet started to hurt in your heels and the guy you’ve been flirting with started to annoy you. His hand was steady on your hip and his lips grazed your neck as he whispered things into your ear you couldn’t comprehend, mind way too hazed.

Meanwhile, Theo felt as though he was going fucking crazy. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He tried so hard not to think about you. He tried so hard to finally get you off his mind. To finally make these feelings for you disappear.

He was supposed to enjoy himself tonight. Make out with yet another girl and then forget about you completely. Some alcohol would help, wouldn’t it? But no, you just had to show up in that tiny fucking dress, showing off your legs for everyone to see. And as if that wasn’t enough, you let that guy’s hands and lips wander over your body as if you belonged to him. You’ve never done anything like this before. You never dressed up like this, and every bloke who ever came too close to you would be hushed away in a second and now you basically bathed in those boys’ attention.

He knew he wasn’t one to judge. Not when he acted the same exact way every single party he went to. But the way you wouldn’t react to his smoke, the fact your nose didn’t scrunch up like it usually would, the way all of your attention was on that guy and not on him, it made him fucking feral.

“Uhhhm you know, you- you look good and all, and we should reaaaaallyyyy continue this another time, but I need some fresh- fresh air right now, so I’ll go.” You hickupped, actually feeling like his weird perfume would suffocate you if you didn’t leave right fucking now.

“I’ll go with y-“

“Nono, don’t worry, I’ll- I’ll go alone.”

You hurried away, not wanting him to follow you. You needed to get out of this huge castle, go somewhere you could actually relax, because the alcohol, in fact, did not help and finally come to terms with the truth; Theo never once left your mind. And your plan sucked too, having achieved absolutely nothing.

You felt way too hot, the smell of that horrible perfume mixed with smoke and alcohol overstimulating your senses. Plus, your mind was racing. Why couldn’t he just talk to you? Tell you what he was thinking that night, tell you what made him lie to your professors about “your complaints”, tell you what fucking made him run away after such an intimate moment.

“Fuckfuckfuck these shoes are fucking killing me!” you whined once you reached the exit.

“Then take ‘em off”

Your eyes opened wide and the cold rain drops falling onto your skin one after one made you shiver.

And so did his voice.

You knew he was standing behind you, but you didn’t dare to turn around. You stared ahead into the nothingness until you felt his presence next to you, arms brushing against each other. His cologne and the fresh air cleared your mind, sobering you up slightly.

“What do you want, Nott?”

“We need to talk.”

“Finally grew a pair or what took you so long?”

Theo exhaled. He turned around to stand face-to-face with you, his blue eyes piercing into yours. And finally that night, you held his gaze. The tension was palpable and you couldn’t help but fiddle with your bracelets and necklace, feeling overwhelmed with the sudden change of atmosphere.

“Listen, I- I know what I did was stupid. And absolutely, in no way, was what I did okay. I just- I’ve kissed a lot of girls before, we both know that, but that kiss between us- it felt so different and t-“

“So you left? And ignored me? And lied to McGonagall? And proceeded to let a girl sit on your lap during fucking breakfast the next fucking morning? That’s a low bow even for you, Nott. Stop behaving like a slut and then maybe we’ll talk.”

“Oh and how did you behave tonight? You’re allowed and I’m not?” His voice was low, his head bending teasingly low towards yours, eyebrows raised, awaiting your reaction.

You scoffed and dodged his gaze. Guess your plan did work out. “Complaining, Nott? One bloke I flirt with and suddenly you’re after me again? Well maybe next time you should think before leaving me! Because, believe it or not, to one of us that kiss actually fucking meant somethi-“

“You seriously think it meant nothing to me?” He yelled, frustration growing in his eyes. “I left because I was scared of what our friends would think if they saw us together! I- I know it was stupid and I got unnecessarily rude after but I’ve never felt anything like that before and that,” he huffed, “I guess that scared me.”

“So when it’s me you care about others opinions, but when it’s that Ravenclaw, or Parkinson, or just any other girl, then you don’t?” You asked, acting as confident in front him as you could.

“For fucks sake, it’s because I like you Y/N, don’t you get it? I genuinely like you! I left ‘cause you’re not like those girls. ‘Cause you’re actually important to me!”

You pondered for a second, lowering your eyes to look at your heels instead of his face. Your heart thumped loudly inside your chest.

You looked up again.

Took a step forward.

And smashed your lips against his.

Your eyes closed as he didn’t waste any more to kiss you back and finally, you felt safe again. With that fuzzy and warm feeling in your stomach and his lips against yours.

“This dress looks so perfect on you.” His hands steadied on your waist, pushing you lightly against the wall. He kissed down your neck, your skin feeling hot. You began playing with his hair as your body relaxed under his touch. You didn’t care about the rain wiping off your makeup. Or about you clothes being absolutely drenched. Nothing mattered other than having him close to you.

“I like you too, Theo.”

His lips parted from your neck, instead he gave you a small peck on your lips, before embracing you in a tight hug, smiling into your hair.

And neither of you let go.

“You’re shivering, want my jumper?”

“Red doesn’t go well with green.”

“Nah, I think it does.”

last part makes more sense as gryffindor!reader but whatever, I hope you liked it!

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: omgg I am so happy yall like this! thank you for almost 100 notes!! If you want to be added to my tag list pls comment and ill do my best!! Remember Logan beefs with Alex Summers not Scott bc Scott is my son (dofp casting)

ch 2

warnings: mentions of blood, needles, generic doctor stuff, cussing i think, angst, poor reader :(

previous -- next

~~~~~

The next day you were sitting the in teachers break room, listening to Hank and Charles debate on what to do for the annual end of year movie night. Both options sounded boring, a basic slasher and some movie about a train. You turned to your right to look at your other close friend, Storm. 

“I heard Scott learned Dracula was about you” She hummed, bored of the debate as well. “I was wondering if you finally would tell your version of events?” You turned to look at her and pierced your lips. Thinking about the choice before you. It would be nice to get to talk about it, but at the same time you didn’t see it as fair to only do it since you brought it up to tease the boy. 

“I’m not su-” “She’ll do it” You turned harshly to the voice behind you and not surprisingly it was Logan. 

“Are you serious?” You pushed his arm away as his tried to lower it down on your shoulder. 

“What are you not proud to be a vampire?” 

“I am not a vampire” You grumbled looking back to Storm, who was also starting to get over this conversation. “Yeah sure whatever” She smiled and squeezed your arm as a thank you before leaving the two of you alone. 

Logan looked down at you and smiled. “I ate some broccoli today.”

“Wow. I’m impressed it wasn’t also soaked in scotch”

“Well I didn’t say that” You giggled at his response. You decided to get more comfortable under his arm, sinking into his side. Turning your attention back to Charles and Hank who finally agreed to a movie. The Breakfast Club. As they reached the decision, Alex Summers entered the room. 

Alex Summers was everything he was supposed to be. Kind, tall, handsome. The school girl crush of almost every girl that attended the school. He was calm, he was smart, he was caring, and he hated it. 

“Oh hey y/n.” He always wanted to be with you. You felt Logan tense up against you, his face contorting into an annoyed expression.

“Watch it bub” Logan said, staring at him intensely. You instinctively scratched his back to help him relax.

“Hi Alex! You need to stop by my office later for your check up.” You reminded him cheerfully. Alex thanked you for the reminder, promising to see you before Logan pulled you up with him and out of the lounge. In fact he managed to somehow pull you along out of that section of the mansion before he finally let go of you. 

“Dude what is your problem”

“I don’t like him”

“Yeah no shit.” You remarked, causing him to look down at you and raise an eyebrow. 

“I also don’t like when your sassy.” He poked your forehead with his finger, causing your face to scrunch up. “Besides your giving a presentation about your life, you need to make good on that promise” 

“I didn’t know you cared so much”

“I don’t” Oh. There it was. The fatal rejection that you have experienced from him over and over again. You looked down at the floor, muttering something about finding Storm and hurriedly walked away. He had hurt you for centuries. Your mind, body, and soul yearned for him and yet his own chased another. He had to know at this point. He just wanted to tease you until you couldn’t take it. Unfortunately for you, you had always shown him tolerance. 

Your walk was cut short as you bumped into Storm, who informed you that you were gonna “spill the beans” the next day, leaving you to walk back to your office and get ready for Alex to get his check up. 

As you prepped the trays you needed for his appointment, the all too familiar voice of Alex filled the room.

“Hello doctor,” He said in a flirty tone, cheering you up slightly. 

“Hi Alex, sit down here” You patted the bench and started the procedure. It was just a normal check up. He talked to you about his brother and his upcoming mission. Saying how he will miss his hot doctor when he left for Europe. 

It made you chuckle as you placed the stethoscope on his inner elbow, focusing once again on the sound and patterns of his blood. He watched you intently as you nodded your head along as if some kind of melody was playing and he was producing it. Your eyes were closed and your eyebrows furrowed together before you relaxed and smiled up at him.

“You're all good. Beautiful blood” He thank you before placing a blow pop he kept in his pocket in his mouth and walked out of your office. As the door shut, you started to clean and pack away your personal belongings. Putting the last needle into the biohazard box, you moved to turn off the lights when Charles wheeled into your office.

“Hello y/n. I need to ask you a favor”

~~~~~

tag list: @captain039

[s0urw00lf]

Our future is in our hands

Pairing: pre!college Sam Winchester x reader

Summary: you and Sam go from talking about the your dreams of going to college to actually going. Together.

Warnings: none

An: I'd kill to see how pre college Sam acted also in this readers mom and john are NOT together, they are just people who met just years after loosing their S/O

Dean left for the bar about ten minutes ago claiming that he ‘needed to get laid’ despite being only twenty years old and not yet old enough to get into a bar legally and your mom and John left a little over a day ago on a hunt that luckily didn’t call for you, Dean and Sam to tag along.

So that left you and Sam alone in the motel. Somehow John had found a place that had bedrooms in the motel two to be exact one with two twins (the boy's room) and one with a queen (your room). Which is where you currently sat doing some schoolwork that had been assigned to you by your mother. She was eager to keep you in school and by the grace of god you and your mother were able to talk John into letting Sam attend dean decided against it because he wouldn’t need it for much longer.

You groaned at the growing headache you’d started to get from staring at the workbook for too long. “You got a headache too?” The voice led you to look to see Sam’s tall frame standing in the doorway with a bottle of water. You rolled over on your back “I’ve been re-reading the same paragraph for thirty minutes” you groaned, accepting the water when he reached out to hug it to you. Sam gave you a small smile “I told you to take a break like an hour ago” he said.

You sighed “I know but I don’t have much left I just wanted to get it over with” you replied, sitting up so you wouldn’t choke while drinking the water. He looked down at your paper trying to see if he’d completed the part you were on, he hadn’t but he still offered his help. You declined “I need a break, I think my attention span has run dry,” you said. He nodded letting out a laugh, “Well what do you wanna do?” He asked. You shrugged, “Anything but that” You pointed to the pile of open workbooks and notepaper. “Wanna help me clean the guns?” He asked. You nodded, expecting that that’s what he was doing before he came into the room because John had told them two days ago to have it done by the time he was back.

The two of you sat beside working in silence disassembling the guns before Sam’s soft voice interrupted the silence. “Are you gonna go to college?” He asked suddenly. You looked up from the gun you had in your hands to Sam who kept his eyes trained on the gun he was cleaning. You thought for a second “I'd like to, more than anything.” You answered pausing “But do you think people like us get to do things like that?” You questioned.

He finally looked up from the gun in his hands and made eye contact with you, his expression was soft and his green eyes looked so vulnerable. “I think to hell with everybody else, since when do we play but the ‘hunter 101’ ruled anyway” he joked but you could tell he was deadly serious. You nodded at his statement, he was right.

The both of you had never been fully on board with the way your future was headed, hence the hours of hard work and studying. “Then yeah I'd love to go, but not by myself,” you said, hoping he’d catch the hint you were throwing at him. And he did, a blissful smile crossed his face “You wouldn’t be by yourself, we could go together, and share a dorm or apartment or whatever” he said.

Your smile matched his at the thought, sharing an apartment with Sammy sounded great but you’d rather share a room. You nodded “We could go furniture shopping and to parties. We could be normal,” you said, imagining the whole scenario. Sam agreed with a smile still plastered on his face “You’d do that with me?” He asked slowly. You looked at him completely baffled. “Sam i'd do anything with you” you confessed to him. “Even if i told you i want to be with you when it happens” he asked “even more so then” you replied with a small smile.

A little over two years later

You and Sam had left your parents and Dean a couple of hours ago. Somehow you both had been granted a full ride at Stanford and while your mom was happy about it, John had raised hell and to make a long story short he’d told you “If you walk out that door, don’t come back.” And you did. Sam drove with a clenched jaw and white knuckles, and you couldn’t keep yourself from crying. Silence filled the car as both of you registered the events that had taken place just hours ago. You didn’t know if you could live without talking to your family. Not your mom, or Dean. John… maybe. Your thoughts were interrupted when Sam grabbed your hand intertwining it with his and holding on tight. You have him a teary smile and his tense expression relaxed.

‘We’re gonna be fine’

When you arrived at Stanford you both gaped at the apartment on campus you’d been granted, you’d never lived in such a nice space. You walked further into the apartment and made eye contact with Sam who was still standing at the door and the biggest smiles crossed your faces. You let out an excited squeal running to hug him, he caught you picking you up and twirling you, making you let out a laugh.

He placed you gently back on the ground with a dopey smile locking you into his loving stare. “I can’t believe it” you muttered in disbelief looking up into his green eyes. “We did it,” he said. You were trapped, unable to look away from his eyes, and your face heated making your heartbeat rise. Since that day you and Sam talked about college you’d grown closer than friends but not yet a couple and you had yet to have your first kiss, praying that someday it’d be him, and it seems your prayers were answered when he began to lean down, playing a hand on your hip to bring you closer.

“Sam,” you said softly and you weren’t sure why. “Can I?” He breathily asked tugging you even closer if possible. You nodded not breaking eye contact. You could feel his breath on your lips as he leaned closer. When your lips connected you’d let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He hummed softly into the kiss. His lips were soft and the tip of his nose was still cold from when he was blasting the AC in the car. He pulled away from the kiss with a smile “I’m so glad I finally did that” he whispered. You laughed “I wish you’d done it sooner” you replied with a smirk. You pulled away from his warm embrace and turned back towards the living space of the apartment. “Where do we go from here?” You asked softly.

“We’ve got years to figure that out, let’s just focus on now” he answered. You smiled looking up at him. You had the man you’d dreamed about (literally) and the life you wished for and for right now that was all you needed.

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

I needed a place to write and this story has been running up the storage on my phone.

Dom X Reader

Friends to Lovers

WWE mixed with real life

All fanfic, I don’t own WWE characters, etc.

Tons of Smut Chapter One | Where it all started…

I had known Dom since I was fourteen, attending the same Catholic school and wearing the same navy blue uniforms that felt too stiff to relax in.

I had been living with his family since it mattered and dating their son was not an option. No matter how much I wanted to.

We were both seventeen when I finally asked Dom to be my first. I didn’t want anyone else and I wanted to get it over with. Nothing about your first time is supposed to be heavenly. They scared us with pain and bleeding as women in health class enough to make anyone dread the first time. And who better than my best friend? 

Dom was eating Cheetos and bothering his mom cooking in the kitchen when I strolled up. 

Texting Dom even though I was right next to him was how we communicated without speaking a lot. A go to for us.

Me: Will you take my virginity?

I had no idea if Dom was a virgin still. He was attractive, wealthy, famous dad, and everything girls chased.

Dom: Are you serious?

Me: Yeah. Who else? I want to get it over with.

Dom had already properly stolen my first kiss and I was more than grateful. Drinking, smoking, every first a teen could have Dom was there for. He was my best friend but he was also a guy and living with him didn’t help those pesky hormones. 

Me: Aren’t you horny?

Dom: I’m a fucking guy and you live here. No relief, mi amore. Are you sure? Can’t take it back.

Me: Yes, I can’t take it anymore. I’m pretty sure your parents can hear my vibrator at night.

Dom: Fuck. That’s not helping.

I touched his leg and made an apologetic face while he winced with his head down. It wasn’t a secret we were attracted to each other. Even his parents made jokes about us spending time together or flirting.

Getting up Dom clasped onto my arm, stopping me, “tonight.”

We had kissed at parties, in his bedroom, even in the shared bathroom but nothing crazy. We hadn’t made out the way you see in movies. 

“Can you come with me? Right now. I need your help.”

Dom said something in Spanish to his mom before he followed behind me up stairs. Their house was lavish, big but modest somehow at the same time. Climbing the stairs he kept asking me what was going on when I kept shutting him up until we were behind doors.

Pushing him into his room I closed the door behind us. “We haven’t even made out yet. I don’t wanna skip anything.” I stood by the door watching Dom trying to calculate anything I was saying. Pulling the hoodie over my head and exposing my red bralette immediately made my nipples hard knowing he was about to look.

“Wait, hermosa. We can’t just rush into this. I don’t even know if I can make out with you and not wanna do more.” He sat on the edge of his bed holding his face in his hands and his elbows digging into his knees. “Okay, so we do more.”

Walking over to him I pushed him back, standing between his legs. “Do you not want to? It’s okay if you don’t.”

He sat back looking down at his crotch in his gym shorts. “Does it look like I don’t want to? I want to. I don’t want you to regret it. Regret me.”

Pushing Dominik back until he was flat against the bed I climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands finally reached out and touched my legs but I could still feel the conflict brewing inside him. 

“Dom, just kiss me already.”

Siting up right his lips snipped at mine and his eyes locked into mine. We both pulled away enough to look at each other. Every nerve in me flared up and suddenly I was aware of my body, arching my back in his hands.

“You don’t have to try, mi armor. You’re already everything…” his hands traced up my sides, fingertips tickling the seam of my bralette. “I’m the lucky one here.”

Those hormones were waging a war between my thighs when I felt how hard he was under me. I wanted to give him all of me but every part of me relied on logic.

No one finds forever at seventeen.

“Are you virgin still?” I asked as he kissed my neck and his thumbs teased my hard nipples.

Smiling against my skin I bit down on my lip trying to hide every emotion. “I haven’t babe. It would be a lot easier right now if I had.”

“You can touch me, Dom.” My voice scratched the surface of a whisper.

Slowly his hands moved to cup my breasts, letting his fingers dig into me enough to make me jump. Immediately he stated apologizing, “I’m sorry, too hard.”

“No, no. It feels really good.”

“My mom is downstairs. We can’t be loud.”

“Just kiss me, Dominik,” I begged him to shut me up. 

Rolling over, he pushed me down, his legs under my thighs and my pussy so wet it was uncomfortable. “Oh my god.”

Our mouths were hungry, nipping and biting between kisses, our tongues wrestling every time our lips parted. Everything felt too good to be true. 

His hands pinned down my wrists when he pulled away. “Fuck. I -“ he couldn’t even say it. I knew he needed me to touch him too.

My hand snaked down between us and I smoothed over his erection when it jerked against me. Kissing his jaw and neck I felt so turned on it was hard to think straight. 

Lowering down into I felt him rock against my hand. “Fuck. I wanna fuck you. I wanna be inside you.”

His words made my body vibrate even more. “Fuck me, Dom. I want it to be you.”

Tugging my bralette down his mouth closed over my nipple, flicking his tongue over me like a professional. Pushing the waist band on my sweats down I let my hips grind against nothing as Dom tossed them behind him. 

“Fuck.” Something followed in his native tongue and I felt myself melt against the mattress.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re turning me on so damn much. Let me taste you baby.” He whispered his words as he slide down the bed. Opening my legs enough to look at me before he kissed down my legs. Pausing before his mouth collided with my pussy.

I felt his tongue lick my folds, pushing inside me, brushing my clit. I tried my hardest not to moan out loud but I couldn’t help it when it tumbled from my lips. Dom’s hand reached up my body covering my mouth while he licked. 

I was soaked, a mess, when I begged him to fuck me. “I can’t take anymore, please, Dom.”

Kneeling up right he pushed down his shorts finally letting me see him. He sprung out hard and angry like. All I wanted to do was touch him and give him relief but I waited. 

Dom’s hand closed around himself before dragging down his length as I gasped at his movements. “Jesus, Dom. You’re huge.”

“Just wait until you feel me baby. Tell me you’re on birth control.” Pulling him down to me I shook my head before kissing him.

We made out until we couldn’t take it anymore. Dom guided himself inside me and I forced myself to be quiet while every part of me stretched for him.

“Oh my god, mi amor. You feel too good. I’m gonna come too quick.” He said those words but I had already came so many times I contemplated how I was going to walk after.

He started thrusting himself inside me, pounding between my legs and trying to chase our moans away with kissing.

Twisting over he said, “Ride me baby. I wanna see you on top, Mami.”

Straddling him again I repositioned myself and shook as I felt him deeper inside me. I nearly came right then when his hands roamed my body so gently. Landing on my hips he guided me forward, swaying and grinding on top of him. 

Neither of us heard anyone coming, not the doorknob or his mom’s voice shout out before she opened the door in her own house. “Dominik, dinner is ready.”

All we heard was the gasp from the door way when Dom flipped us over working his hips slower, painfully slow. “Mami! Por favor!” 

Trying to hide under him I felt mortified. His family took me in, Dom was my best friend. They were going to blame and hate me now.

His mom immediately left, panicked and embarrassed as us I can only assume. “Hey, ignore that. It’s just us. It’s just me.”

Twisting my legs around him I felt my hips begs for more. “I need this, Dom. Every muscle, every smile, it’s torture living with you and not touching you. I touch myself every night just to keep sane but your family took me in. I can’t betray them. It’s just our virginities.”

“Betray them, hermosa. My family has nothing to do with this. You wouldn’t feel this good if it was wrong.”

Kissing me again I tried to push away the negative thoughts when my body was ready to orgasm again. Only this time was around Dom’s cock inside me. Grasping his biceps I felt my body tumble off a cliff. “Dominik, Dom.” I pleaded but for nothing. We gave each other everything tonight. I risked so much and yet none of him left a bad taste in my mouth.

We laid there for a while in silence, Dom still on top of me and kissing my face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“I’m okay. Sore but okay.” 

We would have laid there forever but his father’s fist pounded on the door. It was unmistakable, he was stern with us, me included but for reason. We were pushing the boundaries and they trusted us. They trusted me to act like a daughter or perfect house guest not the girl fucking their son.

Scrambling to his feet he yanked on his shorts again and I wrapped the sheet around me. I fled to the shared bathroom and closed the door behind me. Quickly turning on the shower I jumped in before it was hot. Anything to avoid their disappointment. His family raise me since I was fifth-teen, I didn’t want to loose them.

Every touch ran through my mind while I tried to hear Rey scolding Dom. “What are thinking? With your mom right down stairs? Mija, we took her in because she needed familia, not so she could be your friends with benefits.”

“Are you serious right now? You know how I feel. She’s not here to take my virginity and piss you off. We wanted to be each other’s first. That’s special.” Dom’s voice was steady and it was unnerving.

“She can’t live here and you two be sexually active. That’s final.”

“That’s so unfair! How was I supposed to know I would fall in love with her?”

“Dominik, listen to me. You’re a teenager. You are going to find your one at this age.” He was right. I twisted the knob to full blast before I actually showered off my first time. I had to break his heart to keep them as family. We would get over it one day. I knew it.

Getting ready I came down stairs like nothing happened. “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna skip dinner but leave the dishes. I’ll do them when I get back. Blaine asked me out.” I said everything while looking at the floor. Dom’s heart was breaking right in front of me. 

Dom stood up from the table. “Are you fucking serious? After what we just did?”

“Dom. We can talk later, okay?” I pleaded him with my soft voice to drop it. Not in front of his family but I knew better. Dom could be a dog with a bone when he wanted to be.

Swiftly moving around the table he followed me out the front door where my date was picking me up. It was all for show, I had no interest in Blaine but I needed him to understand that we couldn’t cross those lines again. Not anymore. He would forgive me later.

Blaine wasn’t at the end of the driveway the way I planned when Dom grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “What are you doing? We just had sex and now you’re going on a date?”

“I said get it over with. I never agreed to dating or anything else.” It hurt to say.

“Bullshit. I can fucking tell by every goddamn moan that came out of your mouth.” He practically spit the words in my face. We were standing so close I could feel the anger come off him. “Don’t do this. Don’t give me some bullshit about first. We both know what happened in there wasn’t fucking firsts.”

Blaine pulled up in his expensive car just at the right time when I managed to escape Dom’s grip. 

Later that night I came home and cleaned the entire kitchen when his dad came breezing in. “You don’t have to avoid us. I’m not kicking you out. Dom might have other feelings tho. I understand why you did what you did. It’s okay, mija. You’re family now. You don’t have to choose between us and Dominik.”

That was the last time we spoke of it and the start of a five month Cold War before Dom and I made up. 

I even contemplated crawling back to my family but just like my life up that point - nothing went as planned. I had missed my period by two months and I panicked. The only person I had to go to was Dom’s mom who knew I had deflowered her son.

At first she was furious but then she finally came around. She didn’t agree with my termination but I knew being a teenage mom to a boy I couldn’t even admit to loving wasn’t going to be my story.

Dom’s parents agreed to keep it secret from their son until I made the decision to come clean to him. I planned on dying with that secret. 

He was destined for greatness, following in his father’s footsteps while I was practically an orphan. I had no plans and no direction. 

When Dom finally came around it was to tell me he was moving to Florida for training camp and it devastated me just as much as I had done to him. “Dad said it would be a good idea to have someone I knew and trusted by my side. He already got us a condo in Miami. You in?”

I jumped at the invitation, I wanted my best friend back. That was all I wanted actually.

“I’m in. When do we leave?”

Chapter Two coming…

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. Eventual nsfw, not this chapter. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. chapter map.

The Gate to Hell

You’re not sure what it is about airports, that somehow makes them feel like a special little extension of the circles of Hell. Or maybe purgatory, is more the like. All you do there is wait, and wait and wait, praying that soon it will be time to move on.

It probably doesn’t help that you’re absolutely fucking dreading your destination ahead.

Frankly, it will be a miracle if you survive this weekend with your sanity intact.

And then, there’s this dude behind you. You keep seeing him out of the corner of your eye. He just keeps pacing back and forth, rolling his stupid bag with him, and you just want to whirl and tell him to be still or sit the fuck down.

Instead, he comes to stand next to you.

You give him a glance. And then, you’ll admit, a double take, because he is stupidly handsome, even while frowning, staring churlishly at the flight monitor as though it had personally insulted him. And, to add insult to injury, he is tall. And well dressed in jeans and a button down and a nice sports jacket. And you inwardly sigh for some indefinable reason that has to do with longing and your acceptance that the universe does not bestow such gifts upon you for free.

“Nice dress.”

You blink, not having expected him to speak to you.

“Thanks.” It’s a 50’s style robin’s egg blue halter swing dress, your favorite color. You needed some bright color therapy, to face the hell you’re about to be stepping into.

“Is there a sock hop in San Luis Obispo I’m missing?”

You guess with your cat-eye Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses, you do look rather on brand.

From his sardonic tone you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. “All the cool kids are going.”

You kind of deliver it like a dig, and you see the corners of his mouth twitch. “Ah. That explains everything.”

You look him over. He…really is ridiculously handsome, if you’re being honest. High cheekbones. Trimmed beard. Piercing eyes. Casually well dressed. A bit older than you, not that that’s ever stopped you.

“I hope our flight’s on time.”

You check your phone app for the airline. “Supposed to be.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got an app for that?” The way he says it, just this side of snide, like you fucking millennials—it kind of pisses you off. And maybe you’re overly sensitive to patronizing comments from older men, but with your history you have a right to be.

“Do you have a problem with me?”

He stands up a little straighter. “What?”

“Like what’s your deal? I was just standing here minding my own business, while you’re creeping around behind me—”

“I was not creeping. I was trying to see the board.” He gestures at the display screen by the gate.

You look him up and down. That’s a tall drink of water, if you’re being honest. “Because Mr. six foot six over here can’t see over my head—”

“I’m only 6’1”—”

“Okay, 6’2” in your shoes, and then you come up here, give me a backhanded compliment, and make fun of me for having the means to keep track of what’s going on with our plane?” You glare at him. “Holy shit, are you trying to neg me?”

“I don’t…even know what that means.”

“Ok, boomer.”

“I am not a boomer.”

“Whatever.”

Then he has the gall to step away—in front of you.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You’re going to butt ahead in line too?”

“On a flight that holds eight people?”

“Wow. Ok, be my guest.” You wave him on, and he rolls his eyes. Then you have to stand there, and look at his stupidly broad shoulders in that nice sports jacket, and his dark softy waving hair that just brushes his collar…you’re not going to look at his butt.

You’re not.

Your eyes slide down.

Fuck, but that’s a nice caboose.

The Fight Or Flight Response

As you sit in your backseat of the plane, there is one seat left beside you, and when you see who boards last you want to throw yourself down the stairs before they close the door.

“Anyone want to trade seats?” he asks, bent over practically in half, he’s so tall and the plane is so small.

Crickets.

With a resigned grumble he settles into the seat next to you, as though the world might end if he has to spend a handful of minutes in your general proximity.

Then, of course, the universe further conspires to embarrass you by sending you a defective peanuts bag, which you cannot for love or money get to tear open.

“Dear god, tear it at the notch,” grouses the rude man beside you, driven insane by you fighting with it.

“There is no notch.”

He’s there with his big hand extended, making an annoyed give it here gesture. It’s distracting, truly, how long and elegant his fingers are.

“Give it here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Give. It. Here.”

You’re so disgusted with this whole day, you hand it over. Then watch with smug delight as he can’t get it open either. Finally, he uses his teeth in his frustration, undoubtedly spitting all over it. When he tries to hand it back to you, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

With a sigh, he offers you his less molested bag.

You take it like accepting his sword on the battlefield.

You both make faces as you quickly find that the seasoning on the nuts tastes like hot trash, and you reckon it’s probably a metaphor for how the next few days are going to go.

This is going to be the weekend from hell.

“So what brings you to San Luis Obispo?” the man asks resignedly, almost like he can’t quite stop himself from talking to you. There is an exhaustion in his tone that would have pulled at your heartstrings, if you weren’t so generally pissed off.

“You don’t have to try to talk to me.”

He shrugs, throwing up those big, beautiful hands in a gesture of annoyance. You can’t help but stare at them—they really are a menace.

“Just trying to be pleasant.”

You can’t stop the bark of laughter that escapes you at hearing that. He frowns over at you, and you cover your mouth, hiding your smile. You know you must look like a crazy person—but it’s just too ridiculous.

“Was it that funny?”

You sigh, and for some reason you feel better after the involuntary outburst. Okay. Maybe you can make an effort. No one is ever in a good mood at the airport, after all. “I’m actually going to Paso Robles.”

“Row-bulls.”

“It’s pronounces ro-blays.”

“Everyone says Row-bulls.” 

“Well, not the fucking Spanish who named it.”

He looks away again with that thunderhead of a frown. Why does he have to look extra handsome, when he’s pissed off?

You sigh again. “Look, I’m sorry. I swear, I’m not always such a bitch. It’s just…this fucking wedding I’m going to.”

This catches his attention; he turns to look at you like a hawk zeroing in on a mouse. “Not…Keith and Anne’s wedding?”

“How do you fucking know Keith and Anne?”

“Keith and I share a mother.”

“Holy shit, you’re Frank?”

“Who are you?”

“I was engaged to Keith, years ago.”

“Oh my god, you’re y/n.”

You can sense by the way he says it that you’re infamous in the family’s lore. It’s been a long time, but still, it fills your heart with a familiar leaden despair.

You close your eyes, and look away.

“You’re just as horrible as Keith always said,” you say to the window.

“I find you equally disagreeable, I assure you.”

waiting for death the car

“There was supposed to be a car,” Frank grouses the second you exit the airport. Patience is clearly not his strong suit.

“The flight was early.”

“But it seemed so long.”

It’s a good dig, truth be told, and the corners of your mouth twitch despite yourself. You sit down on a bench, and to your surprise he sits on the other, though on the side closest to you. “So what the hell are you doing here?” he asks. “Didn’t Keith break your heart?”

“Shattered it into bits.”

“Well?”

“I was invited.”

“And…you’re a masochist?”

“Look, I’m not…whatever Keith must have said I am. I was practically a fucking child when he started dating me. It was not…” It was perfectly legal, of course, but the imbalance of worldly experience, looking back, had not been kosher.

You feel the tide of all the pain and insecurity that man caused you raise up in your heart. Usually you’re pretty good at shoving that shit down down in the deepest dungeon you can, like a healthy person, but the wound is feeling a little fucking raw at the moment, considering.

“Keith is an asshole who only cares about himself. I am aware.”

You sigh, and the tide miraculously recedes. Goddamn. It almost feels like he’s on your side.  “Okay, yeah. There you go.”

“Why do this to yourself?”

“You know, before he broke it off, we had a fight the night before because I told him I would never get breast implants, of all fucking things, and Keith told me I would never amount to anything without him.”

“Sounds like something asinine he would say.”

“I wanted to go back to school, and he didn’t like it. He wanted a Stepford wife, and I was becoming alarmingly aware of the world outside his own making of it, the way children do when they grow up. If you’re wondering why he dumped me.”

“That tracks perfectly.”

“He invited me to be a shit and rub my nose in it, so…I’m here as a fuck you. I wanted to show him I’m doing fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“You do seem rather well adjusted.”

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

This, surprisingly, makes him smile a little.

A few moments of slightly less awkward silence pass before he asks, “So what did Keith tell you about me?”

“Oh, he told me plenty.”

“Such as?”

“What does it matter?”

“Don’t do that,” he snipes. “Don’t dangle the tidbit then refuse to deliver it.”

“Fine. He said you’re a grouch who hates everyone.”

“Oh. I was afraid he might have said something untrue.”

You glance over at his ridiculously well-sculpted profile. He glares ahead, his brows furrowed, and you strangely get the sense that maybe…he’s a little sad for it.

At fucking last, the shuttle car from the hotel arrives.

Tbc...

[tyunkus]

these days i’m thinking about … fwb service dom tyun… finals week has been kicking your ass, and all of the stress from your different courses and whatever workload you have has been taking a toll on you mentally and physically. and everyone can see it - especially taehyun, who refuses to let you off the hook, and wants desperately to take your mind off of it all.

so he makes an offer.

let me take care of you. he says it when you’re both drunk on the floor of your apartment, trying to take the edge off the upcoming weeks. you had been whining about it all night, how stressed you are, and now he’s looking at you so soft, so serious, you’re taken aback.

obviously, you refuse. you know what he means by taking care of you - you’ve slept with him before. but you don’t need dick to get through finals season, you can handle it perfectly fine on your own!!! and you tell him this, and he nods, shrugging it off, but the air is so thick between you two you know he’s just itching to prove you wrong.

& he does. there’s this party you attend, the night of your last day of exams - it’s like your reward after so many nights of frustration and cramming. letting yourself loose, getting some drinks in your system, dancing away all your stresses, and taehyun’s there, of course he is, hand placed casually on your waist while you two eye the crowd, holding your drink for you when you slide over to the dance floor. taehyun takes care of you, watches over you like he always does. he even humors you, getting a whole bottle of alcohol and holding it barely above your lips while you tilt your head back and he pours it down your throat. holds your chin after and wipes off a drop from the corner of your mouth. you know, that sort of thing.

but then somewhere along the way it gets too much - the lights, the music, the heat. somehow the same feeling you came here to avoid - that sense of guilt, self-hatred, anxiety - bubbles up in you and robs you of all your energy. taehyun notices, probably from the way you stumble a little bit, and when he holds you close and your face is pressed close to his neck all you can muster is, “can you—can you take care of me now?”

and before you know it you’re locked in a random room with him and you’re on your knees. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, peering down at you while you sit all pretty between his legs, and you can’t quite tell why or how it happened, not exactly. and now… now you don’t know how to feel. certainly the random surge of anxiety that had hit you earlier has disappeared, and now taehyun doesn’t look too worried anymore - but maybe that’s more concerning, his strange look of relaxation. like he has no care in the world.

then he leans over a bit, closer to you, and he cups your cheek, so gentle, so sweet. “you finally agreed,” he murmurs, his thumb sweeping over your face. “you don’t need to worry. you’ve done so well. you can relax now.”

you believe him. you really, truly believe him. you think about the past few weeks and suddenly none of it seems all that important anymore, not when taehyun’s holding you like this. like you’re precious. you melt a little into his touch and he just smiles, his dimples showing. “you’re ready, then? finally had enough? couldn’t take it anymore?”

you’re breathless, flushed, almost ashamed at the implication. sure, you’ve slept with him plenty of times before, but that doesn’t mean you need him, it doesn’t mean you-

“relax, baby,” taehyun interjects, breaking your train of thought. “let me take care of you, alright? just like i promised. it’s all that i want. it’s all i ever wanted.”

me & my obsession w transactional sex w taehyun that actually has feelings and both of u r too dumb to realize

[teenandbeyond]

Hiiii, Can I request for the Frieza family when the human reader get a little bit tipsy/drunk?

Frieza Fam x DrUnK. Human Reader

About time I get a drunk request.

Want more from me? MASTERlist.

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

🧊Let Loose🧊 (DBZ or Dragon Ball Z)

Warning(s): Drunken-ness, short

And this is why you asked your ice jin to not let you get drunk...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Frieza

"[Name]? Are you alright?"

"Wuuuh? Yeeah, a-OKAY!"

You were not.

First you were quiet

Then you were quietly crying

"What saddens you, my dear?"

"I-We-You're so preeety. Why are you so pretty... it's not-it's not faaaair," you whined with a sob, forehead smacking against the table.

Frieza didn't know whether to be concerned or flustered. Both?

The next stage was depression

"I must escape my despair. Can you drown from whiskey?" you asked yourself blankly.

Then you were happy as could be.

"Frieza, look! A butterflyyyyy!"

"That's a chandelier, darling," he chuckled.

"But-but it looks like a butterfly...Frieza can we get a butterfly? I really, really want one."

Consider it done, you spoiled brat.

And from happiness, you become flirtatious.

Your hand brushes up his arm, "I'd love to see these arms caged around me. Are you single?"

He couldn't help but smirk past his blush, "No, I'm quite taken I'm afraid."

"Are they-hic-Are they cute?"

"Very, the cutest."

"I guess I have no chance then, woe is me!" you sigh dramatically.

And the last stage, you fall asleep, cuddled into your ice jin.

A shame you were too intoxicated to feel the kiss brush your temple.

King Cold

You were much more flirtatious than usual

Bold enough to say the things you wouldn't usually

You tried to cooly lean against the table but fell, you quickly got back up and played it off. Smooth for a drunk.

"Hey handsome, aside from being this good-looking, what else do you do in your free time?"

And he'll happily flirt back in amusement.

"I’d like to take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring in your own snacks," you grip his thighs as you lean in.

He quite liked you like this, he had to admit.

"Neither of us would be able to attend if that were the case."

Somehow you ended up in his lap, brushing your fingers up and down his horns.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I’ll give it right back."

"That sounds like a deal."

You traded sloppy kisses until you grew tired and decided to take a snooze.

He couldn't promise to not let you get drunk again. You were quite amusing.

Cooler

Usually, you were more on the serious side, so it was nice to see you let loose.

"Hey, Cooler, let's dance!" you giggled.

No one was looking, so maybe a little dancing would be okay.

"But I don't know how."

"I'll teach you!"

Your teaching skills were a little sloppy drunk, but he got the point.

Swaying with you made him feel like he was in a different world

Your laughter filled the room.

That was all the music he needed.

You catch him staring at some point through your drunken haze

"Whaaa?"

"I want to kiss you."

"Do it then, coward," you tease.

Cooler isn't one to challenge.

Though the unexpected softness of his kiss almost stunned you out of your intoxication.

"I adore you..."

"And I want you to do that again."

[tonkatsubowl]

coffee beans.

blade x trailblazer!fem!reader sfw themes (some cursing ig). read at your own risk. english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

⪩ our beloved trailblazer and blade meet up at a cafe behind everyone's backs. a little secret date.

TERM DIRECTORY ◖y/n: your name ◖e/c: eye color ◖h/c: hair color

one thing you always ask yourself on the daily is...

am i a bad person?

you were a pure person at heart, being a trailblazer and all. you were sent out to different worlds and universes under the command of himeko and welt to save them and to learn more about yourself. and never once had you done anything ill-intended. you probably did some trolling here and there, but you never once did anything that was truly evil...or anything that's remotely considered as evil. you ask yourself that because you are in a relationship with blade. the man that is the archrival to dan heng, and the enemy to the astral express.

how you got here was a different story; how you fell in love, how you and blade were able to establish a relationship somehow, yet you both were considered enemies. you always told yourself that it wouldn't work out because of his association and the team that you practically live and die for.

but, in a way, kafka was getting suspicious, or she knew of it, rather. knowing kafka, she did things that she believed were best for her own sake...and perhaps yours. maybe that is why she is never truly involved in trying to separate both you and blade, but you knew if the astral express team found out, you would most likely be...well, doubted. feared. and yet, blade tells you not to worry, and if they had touched you, he would kill them all.

the worst part about that is that he was serious. dead serious.

but you sigh, looking down to your favorite drink that you ordered in a cafe located in belobog. you and blade (mostly you) decided to meet up here in the cafe for a date. you told the astral express team that you wanted to take some time away for yourself and to just relax...and also, you had some personal duties to attend you. of course, they respected your privacy.

and now here you are, trying to stop yourself from overthinking about everything. you wanted to physically slap yourself in the face to just stop these thoughts. stop overthinking so much, y/n. everything will be fine.

"overthinking again, are you?"

a familiar voice snaps you out of your own inner prison, saving from the turmoil that you would suffer from at night. your eyes dart towards the direction of the voice, feeling your shoulders relax and your body easing itself when you see the love of your life. he walks over to you, placing a hand on top of your head, his fingers gently caressing through your scalp.

"ah-" you began, "i...i guess." you murmured, looking down to the drink that blade had ordered. a black coffee, you would assume. he wasn't much of a coffee drinker, and adored tea. but when it came to you, he would want to try something similar to what you drank...but nothing too sugary. but blade can read you like an open book. if you seemed stressed, tired, sad, angry...or anything, he can read you. and he would be there for you to the best of his abilities.

he raised a brow, looking down at the drink that was in between your hands. retracting his arm from your head, he sits across from you, looking a bit sour.

"you bought a drink? you need to stop doing that and at least wait for me to buy you one," he murmurs, a quiet sigh leaving his lips, "now i really know that you are overthinking, y/n."

you huff, "look, i don't want you to spend money on me."

"too bad."

well, you couldn't exactly fight against blade's wishes. if he wanted to spoil you, he will do so regardless or not you like it.

"what are you overthinking about anyway? same stuff?" he would say, taking a sip from his black coffee.

"well...yeah." you say, slumping back against your seat.

"i'm telling you. i don't give a damn if they find out. if they hurt you because of it, then it only gives me another reason to put their hands on a silver platter. do you understand that, flower?"

and he wasn't wrong. he would hurt them. he would maul them. even if you didn't want him to do it, he would do anything in his power to ensure your safety and to kill those who try to harm you. the man is extremely protective of you, after all. never once had he shown this side to anyone else but you. you were special...and you were his. a man's treasure, pride and joy should never be touched.

you were silent, looking down to the latte heart of a cat that was destroyed from you sipping at the mug. now it was just an awkward foam that is sitting on top of the surface, staring up at you in its own shame and disgust from ruining its art.

you hear a sigh from blade as he sips once again from his black coffee, eyeing at you carefully. "anywho, i saw your 'adorable' little wanted poster here in belobog. at the walls."

he changed the subject, and that's when you smiled a bit, laughing softly to yourself. yeah, when you, dan heng and march first got here...you were chased by the silvermane knights, causing you three to get a silly portrait of wanted posters. it was quite funny, and adorable.

and best of all, blade loved hearing you laugh. but he would never admit it.

"they gave you a big nose for no reason," he said, his lips tugging to a faint smirk, "and they messed your hair up. makes me wonder if my wanted portraits are drawn by little brats, too."

your smile widens a bit, "i don't think i've ever seen a wanted poster with your face on it, but i hope you're way uglier than me in those," you tease, "maybe i should draw one and slap it here too..." then you pause, realizing you should add, "ah, right...i think they forgot to take those down. they cancelled the bounty and everything on my head after i helped this world."

"they better." his tone stiffened, freezing itself, almost threateningly.

one thing you loved about blade is that he was very protective of you. a man capable of destroying worlds and universes on his own would make anyone feel safe if he decided to ally up with you. but it was a little scary at times. but you couldn't help but admire his strength and dedication to you, anyway.

"...u-um," you began, "do you... want to go on a walk? well, i mean it's...cold outside."

blade nodded his head, standing up. he crushed the empty plastic cup in his hand, tossing it into a nearby trash can. unfortunately, you had a glass mug, so you couldn't exactly just...toss it. instead, you would leave it on the table for the baristas in the cafe to pick up.

"cold, hot. doesn't matter to me."

as long as he's with you, it didn't matter.

hiding your smile, you got up, shyly inching your hand towards his. he looked at you with a mildly puzzled look, watching as your fingers playfully inch at his own. then, he would take your hand with a sigh, looking away as he began to lead you outside of the cafe.

being hit with a cold, wintry breeze was something you would never get used to. but it seems blade was already used to fighting under extreme weathers and temperatures. the man was a killing machine, after all. a machine that was adjusted to many environments, worlds, its laws and more. you would cling to his side, holding his arm for warmth. the scent of his herbal cologne, the warm that protruded from his limb...everything about him was just so perfect. you felt so safe. you felt so...at peace.

the two of you were walking in silence, basking in each other's presence. sometimes, you two didn't always need to talk but to just enjoy each other's companies. blade took you somewhere, anywhere in the city. you both watched as the snow began to fall, as it decorated your hair like little stars sprinkled throughout the night sky. you both would stop a little food trailers, being served hot and warm foods...and of course, blade would pay for all of it. he disliked you taking in charge of everything, after all. he would rather do everything for you.

night fell, and the man finally spoke, shattering the silence that you both shared amongst each other, "don't go home yet."

you blink, your eyes darting to him with confusion and surprise. his eyes soften as he looked towards you, admiring the snowfall as he observed the beauty that was laid before him.

"give them excuse. that you're too tired to leave. stay the night here. i'll buy an inn room."

you blink. what was with this sudden change of behavior? retrieving your phone from your pocket, you look at blade with wide, curious and surprised eyes. you weren't against it, so you sent a text to the groupchat that was shared between you, dan heng, march, himeko and welt.

➜ y/n: hey, i'm a little exhausted from running errands here... i think i'll stay here for the night and come back to the express. zzz

➜ march: huh?? damn, what have you been doing?

➜ y/n: enough for my legs to scream at me

➜ welt: i'm not surprised, considering every world we go, you're always running errands. feel free to rest for the night over there. let us know if you need anything.

➜ himeko: oh geez. learn to say no to these errands sometimes, okay? you need to have some time for yourself.

➜ dan heng: rest up, y/n.

to your relief, you gave a nod to blade, assuring him that you would stay the night here in belobog. but one thing that concerned you was...

"what about kafka and silver wolf? wouldn't you need-"

"don't worry about them. they already know not to disturb me for a bit."

you blinked, letting blade rest a hand on your shoulder as he gestured you to the direction of the inn building.

"come. let's get some rest."

the rest of the night was peaceful and loving. the two of you shared each other's warmth in harmony, snuggling up in each other's arms holding each other close. you would talk away at blade's ear as he sat there in silence, listening to every word that left your lips. he listened to every story, every rant that left you, and everything that you just wanted to talk about towards blade.

the one thing you loved about blade was that you can talk his ear out about anything, and he would always listen to you in silence, and speak his thought if it was needed. never once would he show disinterest towards you. he loved hearing you talk about your day.

finally, letting out the bundle of emotions had tired you out, as well as the fun you had today with your significant other. his arms were wrapped around your waist as your were deep asleep against his chest, quietly listening to his heart beat as he protected you from everything in the universe. aeons, the supernatural...nothing would be bold enough to face a man who was capable of annihilating it all. nothing would separate you both, and best of all...

...blade wouldn't want to let go of you, ever.

as you remained deep asleep against his chest, blade's eyes were still awake, thinking about situations, future decisions and other things related to your... no, to your and blade's future. unbeknownst to you, he would most likely have to plan to get rid of the astral express team if it meant to have you as his...and his only.

your presence was everything to him.

and nothing else would matter.

unexpected yandere tendency at the end oops ♡(>ᴗ•)

[llxferim]

a/n: idk why i wrote this... also sorry for the inactivity I've been rewatching all of marvel and my Loki phase came back so I had to write somethinggg, promise I'll be more activeeee😭.

i felt so smart writing this guys💪🏻💪🏻

(something more smvtty is coming up next :))

Pairings: Loki Laufeyson x Gn!reader

Summary: you have a yet another interrogation with the god of mischief, but this one goes a little differently

Genre: idk... theres nothing happening here other than flirting (Ik ik its kinktober but I wasn't in the mood😔)

Warnings: Loki, flirty loki, no yn, gender neutral reader, idk, yayyy

Word count: 2k

"Question for a question. you know, fair trade and all that"

it was Tuesday— meaning you and Mobius had yet another interrogation with Loki if you would even call it that. he wouldn’t answer a single question and it was becoming— really infuriating.

The metallic clang of the door echoed in the sterile interrogation room as Mobius stepped in, a clipboard in hand. He shot you a quick nod before turning his attention to the figure seated across the cold metal table: Loki Laufeyson.

Loki lounged in his chair, his trademark smirk plastered across his face, exuding an air of effortless confidence. “Ah, Mobius. How delightful to see you again. Are we here for a little chat or just the usual endless questions?”

“alright, Loki” Mobius sighed, and sat down next to you, clearly tired. “please save us the usual banter and just answer at least, some of the questions”

“why is it always you the one asking questions—?” Loki asked his smirk still slapped across his face “—and not you?” he added looking over at you with a grin.

“because—“ Mobius crosses his arms “my temper wouldn’t last” you interrupt him, giving Loki a sarcastic smile. “that’s exactly why you’re in training— anyways, let's continue” Mobius continues asking questions but Loki keeps his eyes locked on to yours, completely dismissing him.

“Training, huh?” he mumbles out. you try to ignore him, and just keep taking your notes.

you didn’t remember anything before the TVA, you just somehow appeared here about 4 months ago. whenever you would question how you got here, nobody would— or could, answer, so after some time you just chose to stop asking.

Then, you met Mobius, he offered you a spot as his partner but said it would take some time, which you had a lot of, so you agreed. it was your third month in training, you usually just had to attend interrogations, read books, and sit through some really long meetings, but, nothing serious for now.

“listen Loki, as much as I love our little banters, I'm not in the mood today, so please just answer the damned questions” Mobius was starting to get heated, he definitely had a bad day today.

“okay, alright, I will—“ Loki started, causing Mobius to sit up, surprised. you finally take your eyes off your notebook, wanting to know what he was up to this time.

“—but, only to you” he added moving his gaze to you. god-damn only if looks could kill.

You felt your heart quicken at his words. “Me?”

“yes, you” Loki confirmed, a devilish smile tugging at his lips “You seem far more fun than him”

“More fun how exactly?” you scoffed, trying to mask your surprise and the rush of warmth that flooded your cheeks.

Loki leaned forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, his green eyes glimmering with mischief. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the way you challenge me, or maybe it’s just that Mobius here is a bit too... predictable,” he said, throwing a playful glance at Mobius, who frowned in response.

Mobius huffed, arms crossed over his chest. “Predictable? I’m trying to keep this interrogation on track, unlike some people.”

“i mean, we could try..” you look over at Mobius

Mobius looked between you and Loki, hesitating “Do you really want your very first interrogation to be— him?” he whispered, or at least attempted to “he could be manipulating you”

“Or perhaps I’m just tired of the usual banter,” Loki interjected, leaning forward, his gaze locked on yours. “Why not take a chance? I promise I won’t bite—much.”

“what’s the catch?” you tried to keep your composure, focusing on the task at hand.

“no catches, promise.” he put his hand on his heart, crossing it. “Just a condition. For every question you ask, I get to ask one in return.” he leans back in his chair with a cocky smile “You know, fair trade and all that.”

Mobius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t a game, Loki. We need information.”

“I assure you, I’m as serious as ever,” Loki replied, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. “But only you can unlock my full potential, dear.” He winked at you.

you shot him a quick look before focusing back on Mobius who was now standing up “fuck it, we tried everything else” he grabs his clipboard “I’m going to go get some pie” he says with a sigh and walks out.

the metallic clang of the door echoed in the room, you finally put down your notebook, and now your focus on Loki.

“all right, question for a question huh?” you ask, intrigued by what he would want to know about you.

“I’ll start, how exactly did you become a variant?” you ask your first question

Loki’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Ah, such a direct approach. But I suppose that’s what I find so enticing about you.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “But tell me this, isn’t the TVA all-knowing?” he returns the question with a question

“not exactly” you slightly tilt your head “We know when and where a certain event happens, not why, at least not in detail,” you explain

“You didn’t answer my question,” you pointed out, crossing your arms as you regarded him with a mixture of frustration and intrigue.

“Because it’s more fun to ask you questions, dear,” he replied, his tone teasing. “But very well— You know the Avengers?” he starts “They decided to play with time and went back to retrieve something. But their meddling caused quite the mess—enough for me to get my hands on the Tesseract.. again.”

A smirk played on his lips, but there was a shadow of something deeper beneath the surface. “Which, I suppose, wasn’t meant to happen.”

you respond with just a hum.

“My turn” he smiles, “What drives you to work for the TVA, knowing how they manipulate time?”

you stop to think for a second “I don’t think it was my choice to begin with, I don’t even remember how I got here, let alone why.”

“and you don’t question that?”

“I did— for some time, but when I realized that it just drew unwanted attention to me, I stopped”

“alright,” you say before he can sneak another question in “My turn, pretty boy” his eyes sparkle at that “Mobius, he thinks he can change you, get you to work for the TVA, but to do that he needs to know why you do what you do,” you ask, genuinely curious about the answer.

“Isn’t that sweet,” he scoffs, “But I’m afraid Mobius is barking up the wrong tree. Change is a fickle thing, my dear.“

You lean forward, intrigued. “So, you don’t think you can change?”

Loki's expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something deeper through his eyes. “I don’t think it’s a matter of whether I can change,” he replies, his voice softening. “It’s whether I want to. Change implies growth, but it also implies sacrifice, and I’ve sacrificed enough.”

“What do you mean by that?” you probe, wanting to understand the layers beneath his bravado.

He chuckles darkly. “Let’s just say that in my pursuit of power, I’ve lost more than I’ve gained. Trust, loyalty, and love… they come with a price. I’m not sure I’m ready to pay that again.”

You can feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, and for a moment, the playful banter fades, replaced by a sincerity that catches you off guard. “But what if changing means finding those things again? Isn’t it worth the risk?”

Loki studies you for a moment, his gaze intense. “And what if I fail? What if I lose everything again? That’s a burden I’m not sure I can bear.”

You take a deep breath, your heart racing at the vulnerability he’s showing. “You won’t know unless you try. Sometimes, the biggest risks lead to the greatest rewards.”

“Wise words, for someone so young,” he muses, a hint of admiration in his tone. “But I’ve been burned before. I’ve danced with the flames and learned that they can consume you whole.”

“Maybe you just need someone to dance with you this time,” you suggest, your voice steady despite the flutter. “Someone willing to take that risk alongside you.”

His expression softens for a brief moment, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. “You really are a remarkable creature, aren’t you?” he says, his smirk returning. “But it’s my turn to ask, dear, remember?”

“how could I forget?” you respond with the same tone, steeling yourself for whatever he’s about to throw at you.

The next question delights Loki so much that he leans back in his chair, a sparkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. "If you could rewrite your own timeline, what would you change?”

You hesitate, his question heavy in your chest.  "Honestly? I'd want to remember how I ended up at the TVA in the first place. That's a pretty big part of my life I'm missing," you admit.

Loki's face changes; his curiosity now piqued. "Interesting”

"To know why I'm here and what I'm capable of? it would change everything for me. but, What about you? If you could change one thing, what would it be?”

He leans forward, his chin on his hand, and a thoughtful look crosses his features. "Ah, the old me would say I'd change my relationship with my family. But lately, I've been wondering if I'd rather avoid the pain of it all and embrace the chaos instead." For one second, his eyes darken before he shakes it off, the playful glint returning. "But that's a bit too sentimental for my taste.”

You chuckle softly, "Chaos suits you, Loki. It's like a second skin."

"Yes," he says, the word dripping with irony. "But it is tiring, is it not? Constantly being at the center of chaos while attempting to maintain some semblance of control. What is the purpose of any of it when you cannot even trust those around you?”

You eye him, "Trust is a hard thing to come by, especially in a place like this. But it's worth striving for, isn't it?"

Loki looks at you a moment longer, and the easy teasing between you drops away into silence, an understanding. "You're more optimistic than I'd expect from someone in this line of work.”

"Maybe I just have a different perspective on what we do here," you reply, feeling a weird heat spread through your chest. "We're trying to maintain order, even if that means sometimes we have to play the villain” You stop for a second “At least that's what I think”

“Ah, a villain's perspective," he says, cocking his head to one side. "But what if I told you sometimes chaos is freer than order? Would you still want to impose rules on it?”

You consider his question for a moment. "I guess it depends on what kind of chaos we're talking about. There's destructive chaos, and then there's creative chaos. I think it's important to know the difference."

Loki smiles at your response, a genuine warmth seeping into his expression. "Perhaps you are not quite as rigid as I thought. Maybe there is still hope for you.”

You can't help but chuckle at that, and though it's unexpected, you feel your heart racing with this small, newfound connection. "Well, maybe you're not just a trickster after all, Loki. You have your moments of depth."

"Depth, hmm? I must admit, it's rather refreshing to hear that from you," he says, leaning back in his chair, that trademark smirk creeping back onto his face. "But I'm curious what do you think of me? Really."

You take a moment to consider your answer. "You're infuriating, charming—“ you start before the metallic cling of the door echoing through the room—yet again, interrupts you.

you both look over at the figure who walked in., Loki’s face unhappy.

Mobius glances back, his brow furrowing in confusion. “why are you guys looking at me like that?” he asks “What happened here?”

You share a glance with Loki. “Just a little philosophical discussion,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light.

Mobius raises an eyebrow, still suspicious. “Alright, but remember we need information, not a therapy session,” he says, his tone hinting at his frustration. He hesitates for a moment, then sighs. “Fine. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“anyways, where were we?” you turn back to face Loki “Oh, you were telling me how charming I was” he responded with a smirk.

[egrets-not-regrets]

After Stormbreaker: Fluffy Charm

Of Fin and Feathers AU: In the aftermath of the incident with the Grey Knight, more bonds are formed. Kona follows Kiri attending to Kalium, who finds himself charmed by the fluffy guglet.

Author’s Notes: This is a callback to my Alcyon/Amelia fic “Dandelions and Yarrow” where Kalium is bonded to a little kid in the Husbandry au. I thought it would be cute for him to be bonded to a kid here too.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis

“But Mama!” Kona whined, tugging on her mom’s wingtip, “I don’t want to go to the creche! I want to see what you and uncle Talos is doing!”

Kiri sighed, at a loss as to what to do. Somehow Kona snuck her way out of the creche and to the healing ward where she was about to work. The gannet harpy stared down at her guglet, her lips pressed thin in a hard frown.

“Kona! This is no place for little guglets. You can get hurt easily here.” She explained, frustrated by her child’s insistence.

Kona shrunk under her gaze, “Please Mama…? One time?” she asked plaintively.

Zariel passed by the pair, having listened to their conversation with amusement. Curiosity is a good trait and could develop into a helpful skill. Who was he to not foster this learning? Plus sometimes one can get interesting and potentially valuable information out of the mouth of babes. He chuckled, “Kiri, Kallium is your first patient. He’s rather friendly and the least intimidating compared to the rest. He is safe if you want to take Kona with you while you attend to him then drop her off at the creche after.”

Kiri flushed with embarrassment, “Oh! Thank you, Zariel.” She turned to her child, whose feathers were fluffed with excitement, “What do you say, Kona?”

“Thank you Uncle Zariel! You’re the best!” Kona yelled as she enthusiastically hugged his tentacles (being so small).

The Alpha Legion apothecary snorted then tapped the guglet on the forehead, “You behave and listen to your mother, understand? Not all mers around here are friendly so she is trying to keep you safe. If I hear otherwise, I will tell Talos not to make any more treats for Kona.”

Kona let out a gasp of childish horror. Uncle Talos made the best treats, “Nooo! I will be good and listen to Mama!”

“Good! Now off you go.” Zariel chuckled, patting Kona on the head with a tentacle. He turned to Kiri, “I am nearby if you need assistance.”

“Thank you.” Kiri smiled back at him.

She went and gathered new bandages, healing potions and a bucket of water. Then she instructed Kona to carry a basket of clean cloth with them as they made their way to where Kalium rested.

Kiri greeted the venomfin mer, “Hello Kalium. How are your wounds?”

“Hello Lady Kiri. Doing better now with your tender care!” Kalium teased her, cheerfully lifting up his tail to show the newly healed wounds.

“Come off it Kalium! Just Kiri is fine.” She giggled. For an Iron Warrior mer, Kalium was almost ridiculously social and friendly. So very different from his more serious and stoic brethren like Captain Broug and Erriox. Perhaps it’s because Kalium is on the younger side? From the moment that Iron Warrior mer had been awake, he’s been quite chatty, talking to anyone (any harpy, really) with a listening ear. As if to make up for all the time he couldn’t talk his brothers’ ears off.

Kalium honed in on a little presence hiding behind her mother’s wing, “Who’s this fluffy dust ball?”

Kona huffed with childish indignance and popped out from her hiding spot, “I’m not a dustball! I’m a harpy!”

Something about the talking fluffball made the Iron Warrior instantly delighted, “A harpy? Where are your wings then?” he chuckled.

The little guglet spread her wings wide, showing the short flight feathers, “See? I’m a harpy guglet!”

“Guglets are what we call our hatchlings who are too young to fly.” Kiri added while she cleaned off one of his healing wounds.

“How long does it take for them to be fully flighted?” He asked curiously.

“About a year after their flight feathers are grown to full size.”

“I’m learning to fly!” Kona piped up. Impulsively, Kalium snatched up the guglet, who let out a surprised screech. The tiny guglet weighed nothing at all and felt like a puff of cloud in in his hands.

“Kalium! Please be gentle with my baby!” Kiri called out. In her panic, she nearly dropped the healing potion as she reached for her guglet.

The Iron Warrior kept Kona out of her reach, “I will! Don’t worry Kiri! She’s fine!” He won’t hurt his hatchling harpy.

Over the initial shock of being grabbed, Kona giggled and flapped with joy, held securely in Kalium’s large hands, “Mama! Mama! Look! I’m flying so high!”

Kiri let out a relieved sigh, her raised feathers slowly relaxing, “She’s my only child so please be careful with her.” she pleaded.

Kalium lowered his hands and switched over to carrying Kona in the crook of one arm. She leaned against his chest, churring contentedly, listening to his hearts beat. He was surprised by the sudden urge to protect his little harpy that soon settled into a calm joy that he never felt before. He looked at Kiri, who only smiled at him.

“You certainly have a way with children.”

“Only this one, perhaps.” He smiled back as he cuddled Kona against his chest. Was this a bond? This sudden claim that this was his baby harpy to care for and protect? He’ll have to ask Zariel or Osteron about later. For now, he’ll focus on keeping the little one safe and happy.

Kiri handed Kallium a low grade healing potion which he promptly drank. She commented, “It looks like your injuries are healing very well. This should be the last needed dose to mend all the wounds you have. Once an apothecary gives you one more check, then you should be good to go.”

He felt a sliver of disappointment at hearing that he would be leaving Kona and the gannet harpies behind. He will definitely need to mention this possible bond to an apothecary sooner than later.

Kalium’s grip tightened on Kona slightly when he saw Kiri get to her feet amd start packing away the soiled bandages and towels.

She gestured to her guglet, “Let’s go Kona. Say goodbye to Kalium! We should go back to the creche.”

“But Mama… I want to stay with Kalium…”

Kiri sternly reminded her hatchling, “Kona, I promised Zariel that you can meet Kalium then go back to the creche. I need to care for other patients here too, so we can’t dally any longer.”

“Kiri,” Kalium’s voice cut in, “You can go ahead and tend to the others. I can look after Kona.”

“Are you sure?” Kiri asked him skeptically.

“Yes.” He grinned as Kona cheered.

“Please please Mama? Can I stay wit Kalium?” Kona begged her mom sweetly, putting on the puppy dog eyes.

She felt rather scandalized when Kalium looked at Kona and decided to attempt to copy her guglet’s expression. For a big Iron Warrior merAstartes, this one sure can be rather childish. Must be the age.

“Please…?” Kalium added. Was that a pout she saw? It’s definitely the age, she decided.

Kiri sighed, relenting to the pair, “Alright. You two be careful then.”

“Will do.”

[electric-cross]

Movie Night

Pairing: Vinny Mauro x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving)

Word Count: 3.1k

Vinny and the reader can't decide what movie to watch. Smut.

Vinny is a cuddly sub and no one can convince me otherwise.

It was late evening. Vinny was live on Twitch, drumming for his fans and having fun. Sometimes, you’d get on Twitch in the other room just to watch. You loved seeing him interact with his fans. He had such love and gratitude for them. Plus, he was funny, and he was always joking around with them. He was a loveable goof. You adored him more than you could put into words.

Tonight, you were once again watching his stream on your phone. Giggling at all his cute shenanigans. You were particularly moved by a sweet moment he had with a fan. They had told Vinny a personal story and he had the sweetest reply. He had also promised to give them a big hug at a meet and greet they were planning on attending. You were excited for them. Vinny gave the best hugs. He always held on tight and for a long time, ensuring the other person felt the love he was radiating.

You sat your phone to the side and listened as you folded laundry. He was wrapping up, you could tell. You heard him say his final goodbyes before the stream ended. You exited out of Twitch and got back to the task at hand. A few moments later, the bedroom door opened and there he stood.

“Hey babe, folding laundry?” he asked.

“Yeah, wanna give me a hand?”

“Of course,” he replied, making his way over, sitting on the bed beside you.

He picked up a pair of socks and got to work, “So the stream went well tonight. Did you see it?”

“I did,” you began, “Well, I watched most of it, anyway. I think I missed the beginning.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s fine. Had some technical difficulties at the start, so you didn’t really miss much.”

“Oh, what happened?” you inquired.

“I’m still not really sure, but somehow, I fixed it. Did you like what you saw?”

You folded a shirt and replied, “Of course, I always do. You know I love watching your streams.”

He smiled, “Yeah, well, I always try extra hard to put on a good show when I know you’re watching.”

“Well, don’t I feel special,” you joked.

He chuckled, “So, what do you wanna do tonight? Watch a movie? Play a game? What sounds good?”

You thought for a moment, “I’m not sure. What sounds good to you?”

“Hmm. Well, since we’re already in here, wanna just cuddle in bed and watch a movie?”

“Sure, that sounds great. Although, it always takes us like an hour or more to pick one,” you laughed.

He reciprocated your laugh, “That’s true. Well, we can still cuddle while we scroll through Netflix.”

“Yes, we can,” you smiled sweetly at him.

He smiled back. His smiles always made you feel warm and fuzzy. He was so cute and affectionate. You’d never known another man like him. You felt as though you were constantly having to pry yourself out of his grip. This man loved to touch you. He was a cuddler, through and through. Most of the time, you didn’t mind. You loved being held by him.

The two of you finished folding the laundry and chatted while you put the clothes away. Nothing too serious. Mostly just talking about Twitch and Motionless stuff. You finished your chores and made your way back over to the bed. You climbed up and took your normal spot, Vinny close behind. He grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned on the TV. you cuddled up close to him, resting your head on his chest, while he wrapped an arm around you.

Vinny began scrolling through the movie titles, listing some off that might seem interesting. You weren’t really paying much attention, however. You were too busy being lulled by the feeling of his body beneath you, the smell of his clothes, everything about him. You’d think you would be used to the effect he had on you by now, but it still got you everytime. You softly rubbed your hand across his chest, content to lie here with him the rest of the night. You were more than happy to just stay like this. No movie, no nothing, just him. You didn’t care what he picked.

“Or, what about this one? This one seems pretty cool, right? Oh wait, I just read the synopsis, and it actually seems kinda dumb. Shit. Sorry, babe, I promise we’ll find something,” he said.

You closed your eyes, feeling the vibrations in his chest against your cheek when he spoke, “It’s fine, baby. Whatever you wanna watch is fine with me.”

“Yeah, but I wanna find something good that we’ll both like. There’s too many choices. It’s impossible to pick something.”

You sighed contentedly. You couldn’t care less what he picked, as long as you could stay like this. You listened to him rattle off different options, giving feedback on films he’d already seen or what he thought they might be about. You felt even more relaxed and comfortable the more he spoke.

“So, this one’s not that great, but it has Keanu Reeves in it, so that’s cool, right?” he asked, desperate to find something worth watching.

“Whatever you want, baby. I’m fine with anything.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I want that one, either. Fuck. Why is it so hard to pick something?”

You listened to him continue, still rubbing your hand on his chest. Without even being aware, your hand started to slide lower until you were lightly rubbing his stomach. You suddenly became aware of your hand placement and remembered that his happy trail was right below the part of his shirt that you were touching. You instantly became more alert. You loved the hair on his lower stomach. You loved touching it, so that’s what you did.

You slowly slid your hand under his shirt and began lightly grazing your fingertips across his abdomen, feeling the soft hair. He didn’t seem too fazed by it, this wasn’t the first time you’d done this. You barely processed what he was saying as he continued listing movies. You were now far more interested in touching him than any film.

You continued rubbing your hand up and down beneath his shirt, across his stomach and chest, wanting to feel as much of him as you could. He still didn’t seem to notice. You would make him notice. You lowered your hand until it was at the waist of his jeans. Slowly, you began to undo the button and slide the zipper down.

He chuckled, “You want something, baby?”

“Do you?” you asked back.

He shifted a bit beneath you. You thought you had begun to have an effect on him.

“Maybe…” he teased, “What did you have in mind?”

You leaned upward, meeting his face with your own, “I’ll show you what I want.”

You barely had time to acknowledge that his eyes grew wide before your lips were on his. You wasted no time in giving this man a long, sensual kiss, which he greatly returned. You felt his hand slide down to your behind, giving it a light squeeze as the two of you continued kissing. Long, languid, passionate kissing. You felt your head swim from the contact. The way this man kissed you always made you feel like you were on cloud nine. You couldn’t get enough of it. Normally, anyway. This time, you had other plans.

You leaned your head over and kissed his neck. Sucking gently, knowing his sweet spots and making him sigh. He squeezed your ass a bit harder. Your hand once again found its way to his pants and you slid your hand underneath the material of his jeans. You continued kissing his neck the way you knew he loved as your hand began to slowly rub his cock over his underwear. You heard him inhale sharply at the newfound contact. This went on for a moment, as you felt his cock growing harder beneath your hand. You took this as your cue to dip your hand below his briefs and rub his cock for real.

“Shit, babe,” he sighed.

You grabbed his cock in your hand and squeezed lightly, drawing a soft moan from him. You did this a few times, enjoying the feeling of him, hard and in your hand. You loved having Vinny in this position. It was safe to say that you were typically the more dominant one in your sexual relationship, though Vinny could take charge when he felt like it. He just enjoyed the feeling of being completely at your mercy, allowing you to do whatever you wanted to him. He got off on it.

You slid his pants down slightly. Enough to free his cock from its confines. It sprang upward, fully erect and dripping precum. You finally detached yourself from his neck and brought your face back to meet his. You leaned over him, looking down at his expression. His eyes were a little glossy, eyelids drooping slightly. His lips were parted and he was breathing a bit more heavily. You took in the sight of him. He was so sexy like this. You couldn’t resist giving him one last, slow, deep kiss. You pulled away and flashed him a sweet smile.

He returned it, “I love you, babe.”

You grinned once more, “I love you, too.”

Before he could say anything else, you grabbed his cock and squeezed it fully. Vinny’s eyelids fluttered shut and he let out a soft groan. You watched his expression as you slowly began to pump your hand up and down. He was in heaven, and you were too just from watching. You leaned in and kissed him again, sliding your tongue in his mouth as you continued pleasuring him with your hand. You swallowed his moans as you ran your tongue across his. Your hand quickened its pace as you gently bit his bottom lip, causing him to moan a bit louder. You were being slow with him. Deliberate. Teasing, almost, and he loved every second of it.

You wanted more from him, and you knew what you had to do to get it. You shifted on the bed, your face now level with his hard cock. He opened his eyes and glanced down at you, a flash of excitement in his gaze as he realized what was coming next.

You glanced up at him, watching his face contort as you lightly licked the precum off the head of his dick. You held out your tongue, letting him see the fluid resting on it.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

You smirked, loving the effect you had on him. You gripped the base of his cock firmly and took the head into your mouth, sucking gently, still teasing him.

Vinny tossed his head back against the pillow, “Damn, baby.”

You smiled around his cock, still sucking. You began to pump your hand slowly up and down his shaft as you sucked harder, still only entertaining his tip with your mouth. You knew it would drive him crazy. Good. This is what you wanted. You were in control, and he knew it. He didn’t dare try to tell you what to do.

Slowly, you began lowering your head and taking more of him into your mouth. Vinny’s moans grew louder and more frequent as you worked him. He loved getting head from you. You were so good at it and he was putty in your hands, well, mouth, every time you did it. You felt him begin to buck his hips upward into your mouth, unable to control himself. You took your free hand and pushed down on his stomach, stopping his movements.

“Oh my god, babe…” he sighed, eyes shut.

You laughed around his cock and the vibration made him shudder. You took this as your cue to start moaning around his length. He went wild when you did that.

“Oh! Fuck, sweetheart. God, that feels so fucking good. You’re so good, baby…”

You sucked harder and faster, your hand keeping rhythm with your mouth. You traced your tongue along his tip as you sucked and moaned, determined to give this man pleasure. You felt him tense up and you knew he was close, but you weren’t finished with him yet.

You took your mouth off his cock and looked up at him. It took him a moment to collect himself and realize that you had stopped, although your hand still softly pumped him.

“Mmm. Please, baby,” he whined.

“So polite,” you giggled, “Do you think you deserve to cum?”

He moaned as you squeezed him hard in your hand, “Yes…”

“Yeah? You think you’ve been good enough for me?”

“Yes…” he began, “Yes, baby. Please.”

You were riding a high watching this man fully submit to you, like he had many times before. It never got old. You could watch this man writhe and moan and beg for hours. Sometimes, you had. You wouldn’t torture him too long, this evening. You were desperate to see him cum. You just knew that if you had a little fun with him first, he would cum even harder.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you cooed softly.

He groaned as your hand quickened once again, “I want you to make me cum.”

“Yeah? You wanna cum?

“Yes. Fuck…”

You dipped your tongue out and licked his tip yet again, feeling him shiver beneath you. You giggled, loving the reaction you got. You gripped his cock as hard as you could and moved it vigorously, causing him to moan loudly.

“Where do you wanna cum, baby?” you asked.

Vinny groaned and said, “Your mouth… I wanna cum in your mouth, baby.”

“Yeah? You want me to swallow your cum, sweetheart?”

“Fuck yes,” he hissed as your hand continued to stroke him.

“Beg for it,” you demanded.

You licked him once more as he writhed beneath you, “Oh, shit. Please, baby. Please make me cum. Mmm. Need to cum so bad…”

You smiled, “That’s my good boy.”

Wasting no time, you took him back into your mouth and sucked hard. Vinny cried out, grabbing your hair with both hands. He didn’t dare try to move your head though. He knew you would stop if he did. He was just latching on, desperate for something to cling to. You sucked and moaned as he whimpered, you knew he was getting close. You squeezed the base of his cock with your hand and lowered your head down so your lips met them. There wasn’t an inch of Vinny’s cock that wasn’t attended to.

“Oh, fuck, babe. Holy shit…” he whined, head still tossed back as far as it could go.

You moved your hand and took his full length into your mouth, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat. He involuntarily jerked his hips at the sensation. You moved your head quickly, bobbing and sucking and moaning. You were desperate to taste his cum, and you knew it wouldn’t be much longer until you did.

You moaned wantonly around his cock, trying to sound as slutty as possible. Your moans drove him crazy, even if they were muffled by his cock. Especially when they were muffled by his cock. His grip in your hair tightened so hard you thought he might pull some out.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna cum. I’m so fucking close,” his moans sounded more desperate, bordering on pathetic, which you loved.

You gave everything you had. Sucking him like your life depended on it. You moaned loudly around his cock and suddenly you felt Vinny’s cum shooting into your mouth, and down your throat.

“Oh! Oh, fuck. Shit,” he cried as his orgasm hit.

You continued sucking, ensuring that you pleasured him through his orgasm. You could taste him on your tongue and it turned you on. You loved when he came in your mouth. Mostly because of the way whined when he did, but you couldn’t deny you also loved the taste of him.

You felt his grip on your hair loosen as you slowed your movements. He was finished. You sucked one last time as you slowly slid your mouth off his cock. His semen still filling your mouth. You looked up at him just as he was opening his eyes to glance back at you. You gave a devilish smirk then opened your mouth, allowing him to see his cum on your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s hot, baby,” he groaned.

You swallowed his cum and opened your mouth again, showing him that you had taken it all. He grinned at the sight and reached out a hand for you.

“Come here, babe.”

You gladly slid back up and ino the position you were prior to your actions, resting your head on his chest once more. You enjoyed the feeling of his chest rising and falling raggedly, still trying to catch his breath from what you had done to him. He shakily put himself back into his pants and closed them up. You returned to lightly rubbing his chest with your hand, listening to his heart pounding beneath you.

Vinny, once again, wrapped an arm around you, resting his hand on the small of your back, “Shit. I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you, baby.”

You smiled as he kissed the top of your head, “You’re welcome.”

The two of you lay silent for a moment, both of you waiting for Vinny to collect himself. He rubbed softly at your lower back, sighing deeply.

“Fuck. I can’t even remember what we were doing before this,” he breathed out.

You laughed, “You were trying to find us a movie to watch, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for distracting me,” he teased.

You laughed again, “No problem.”

“Well, there is a problem,” he began, “We still don’t have a movie to watch.”

“Vin, you can literally put on anything, I don’t care.”

“That doesn’t help me pick something!” he responded.

You grabbed the remote from beside him, “Okay, fine. I’ll pick something.”

“Wait, why do you get to pick? Shouldn’t we both get a say?” he asked.

“Babe, I just let you cum in my mouth, I think I’ve earned the right to pick the movie.”

He laughed, “Okay, that’s fair, but after the movie, I’m making you cum and then I get to pick the movie.”

You returned his laugh, “Okay, deal.”

You scrolled for awhile before Vinny rolled over on top of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m impatient. I wanna make you cum, now,” he answered, “We can both pick something when I’m done.”

You smiled as he began to undo your jeans, “Okay, that’s fair.”