#don't mind me i just watched the movie yesterday

[waynes-multiverse]

Oh, this chapter was just deliciously angsty!!! Just my cup of tea loll 😇

Loved every minute of it 😍😍

Oh, Micheal is just such a lovely, lovely person, isn't he? 😒 In the words of Taylor Swift: Michael doesn't measure up in any measure of a man...

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Why did his wording here remind me so much of that? 😂😂

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Noooo dead 💀💀

Hahaha omfg I loved Sam so much during this chapter! He was awesome!!! Go Lawyer!Sam 😎🤎 (And I have no idea if you intended for my mind to jump to Changing Channels and French Mistake Sam with these lines, but it did, so THANK you 🤣🫶)

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said.

I do understand his struggle after the war, but it's literally NO excuse to treat his wife like shit, cheat on her, lie to her, spend her money for his trashy sidepiece, and God knows what else. You don't want an anchor? Fine. Get divorced. The fact he keeps her around and won't let her find her own happiness after she literally saved his life is so mind-boggingly selfish smh The least he could to show his gratitude is not be a gigantic cuntface 🤬

You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

Ugh, God, poor thing! 😭💔 With all the romanticism of that period sadly also comes the shame of taboo topics (not to mention feminism in general taking a backseat lol) Really feel for her here! Wish she wouldn't blame herself as much. Her husband is a dirtbag 😔

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him. “Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

SCREAMING 😳😳😳

The whole flower shop scene was like watching a train wreck. Poor Dean! So many stingers in those few sentences!! 😩 (And man, I wanna choke Michael!!! Buying flowers? Dinner? Are you fucking kidding me??? WHAT THE F–???)

But did you stop the angst there? Nope! The reader part of me hated you, while the writer part highly commended you 😂💜

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured. A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

I already knew it wouldn't be fast, but I knew this was going to be a problem. Where would she stay during this? Michael certainly won't have it, and I really fear for her safety here 🥺 (Reading the teaser for the last part, I think I have good reason to, even though I know you said once earlier I didn't need to. Still, you got me shaking here, girl 😅)

Surprised Sam wouldn't think about that, considering everything he found out about the guy so far 👀

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

This was such a dreamy, swoon-worthy movie scene *sighs* 😍🫠

And then they had to start talking, didn't they? Specifically Dean. The infamous DW self-loathing enters the AU 😆

I really just wanted to cover his piehole and tell him to stop talking, kiss her for real, and take her with you. Hide out in Kansas till everything blows over 😭

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.” Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

It hurts. It hurts so much...

And I'm so glad the brothers had a long overdue chat as well! I still feel so incredibly heartbroken for Dean 😭

I can't wait for the last part of this & how it all will tie together in the end! Eeeek! This is so, so, so incredibly good, friend!!! 😍😍😍 (And I get to read it on Patreon tonight too hehe 🩵)

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[oldtvandcomics]

Man, I love superheroes. It's like soap opera, but BETTER. You still get all the fun relationship drama, and then it will occasionally cut to Professor X and Magneto being chased around by dinosaurs.

[thirdsaltyhunter]

If I Catch You

Dean Winchester x female!Reader

Summary: Dean chasing you through the halls of the bunker in a ghostface mask, what more do you need

Warning: SMUT, if I catch you I f*ck you trope, mask k*nk, choking, praise, edging, manhandling

A/N: did I forget to post this yesterday cause I was to busy partying... yes but hopefully you'll enjoy this enough to forgive me

You had always loved Halloween even despite being a hunter. It brought back the happy memories from your childhood, when there were no worries, the monsters were only people in masks and the good guys always won at the end of every scary movie. Dean shared your appreciation for the holiday. Even before you and him started dating, you would often spend Halloween nights curled up on motel beds, watching horror marathons with all the snacks and sugar you could handle. Sam on the other hand didn't see the appeal. Sometimes he would join you in your movie watching, but it was mostly to appease you and avoid ridicule from Dean.

This year you and your boyfriend had the bunker all to yourself. Sam had chosen to spend the night with Eileen and leave the two of you to your festivities.

The empty bunker allowed the perfect opportunity for you and Dean to play out a fantasy that you had talked about a few nights before, when you were cuddled up bingeing the Scream franchise.

"Ghostface is hot," you blurted randomly in the middle of the movie. You mostly said this to see his reaction, but there was a hint of truth to your statement.

"Why?" he said in utter confusion. He paused the movie and looked down at you in his arms.

You shrugged. "I don't know masked men are just hot."

"Masked men?" he tried to hide the hint of amusement.

"Oh yeah, it's a real popular thing now. I can show you all the thirst trap videos."

"Yeah I don't need to see that."

You laughed at his look of disgust before he continued.

"So what your saying is that I need to get a Ghostface mask, hm?" he said with a smirk.

"I mean I wouldn't mind, have you chase me through the halls in it." You tilted your head back to face him, your lips almost touching.

"What happens when I catch you?", he asked with a devious smile, his hold on you tightening slightly.

"You'll have to find out," you responded, your voice sultry and teasing.

"I think that can be arranged."

One costume store purchase later and you found yourself in only a set of sexy underwear, standing in the empty hallway. The concrete floor was cool under your bare feet, but your racing pulse kept you from being cold.

Dean had given you a head start before he would try to come and find you. Your excitement was growing. He wasn't going to chase you, if it came down to a sprint race, Dean would win every time. No, he was going to hunt you. You knew this made the game more even, but you also knew that he was crafty and smart. Though in all honesty you wanted to be caught, you were just going to be a little tease before you let him find you.

You had just rounded the corner by the kitchen, when the power went out, causing the bunker's red emergency lights to come on.

Nice touch, you thought.

You heard his voice echo through the hall, signaling that he was coming to find you. Your adrenaline was pumping. Not out of fear, you knew Dean would never hurt you, but out of anticipation for what would happen when he found you.

You slipped into kitchen looking for a spot to hide. Unsatisfied with the spots, you head to the library. You hid in the far corner behind one of the shelves and waited. You listened for his footsteps but heard nothing, years of hunting had trained him to be light on his feet. When you finally heard his voice call your name he was much closer than you expected. He purposefully stepped heavy coming up the stairs from the War Room, his boots thudding against the stone.

You took the opportunity to dart out the door in the back of the library. The bookcase blocked you from his view, but he definitely heard the door shut. You bolted down the back hall, heart pounding as you rounded the corner just as the door opened behind you.

Quietly you slipped into one of the bedrooms and hid under the bed. You listened until his footsteps passed the door and went down the hall. Crawling out from your hiding spot, you checked to make sure the hall was empty before sprinting the opposite direction.

As you ran past the next hall you saw him rounding the other end. You picked up the pace, knowing he had seen you. You turned the next corner and stopped, pressing your back against the cool tile wall to catch your breath. When you decided the coast was clear you went to move to the next hall, when an arm wrapped around your middle, you back pinned to his chest.

You tried to wriggle from his grasp just making it free when you stumbled. You caught yourself, but his hand caught your ankle dragging you across the polished concrete floor and pulling you under him.

He rolled you over and you came face to face with the black eyes and long mouth of the mask, illuminated by the red glow of the lights. This was the first time you had actually seen him in the mask and it was even hotter than you imagined. When he pinned your hands above your head you knew you weren't getting away.

"Gotcha," he growled.

"What are you going to do with me now?" you said through panting breaths, partially from running, partially from how incredibly turned on you were right now.

"You'll have to find out," he responded before using one hand to pull his belt from his jean and loop it around your wrists.

Ok that was hot.

When your hands were secured, he stood up scooping you up off the floor and tossing you over his shoulder, delivering a quick smack to your ass before walking toward your shared bedroom. It wasn't often that he manhandled you like this and you were loving every second of it.

When you got to the bedroom, he tossed you onto the bed and straddled your legs. He hooked two fingers into the belt around your wrists.

"You want this to stay on?" he asked.

You nodded eagerly. Even being dominant and aggressive, he never wanted to push you limits, solely focused on giving you what you wanted.

"Stay," he ordered, getting up from the bed to strip down to his boxers, leaving the mask in place.

You watched him with lust blown eyes, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you admired his body. He moved to the end of the bed, grabbing your ankle and pulling you to the end. Your underwear was pulled down your legs and tossed over his shoulder. He wrapped you legs around his hips and you could feel his clothed erection. You moaned grinding down on him until his arm crossed you hips, holding you still.

He ran two finger through your slick. '"So wet for me. Is this just from me chasing you?"

You nodded again.

He lowered to his knee, his masked face coming level with your dripping cunt. Two of his fingers dipped into you, immediately curling into the spot that made your back arch and your knees weak. Your head fell back letting the pleasure wash over you.

From the box under the bed, he pulled out your vibrator. He planned to torture you tonight.

"Don't cum until I'm inside you. Do you understand me?" he said turning the toy to the lowest setting and pressing it to your clit.

"Yes," you moaned, hands gripping the sheet above your head. You didn't know how long you were going to last. You were already on the edge of release and he had hardly touched you yet.

As you got close he removed the vibrator, running his hand up your thighs and squeezing your hips to sooth you. You whined and looked at him between you legs. You tried to give him your best puppy eyes, but you couldn't see his expression. You only were met with the blank stare of the mask and the vibrations returning to your sensitive cunt.

He continued teasing you, edging you another four or five times. You hated it and loved it at the same time. It amazed you how he knew exactly where to keep you on edge, or at least it would amaze you, if there was a single part of your brain that could think straight.

"Dean," you whined again, desperate for release.

"Beg for it," he responded sternly, fingers dipping inside you again.

"Please, fuck me." You squirmed, you didn't know if you wanted to get away from he sensation or fuck yourself on his fingers.

He sped up his motions and leaned over you body until he was face to face with you. You could just barely see his eyes, but you knew he was watching you fall into ecstasy.

"Please," you begged.

He removed his fingers and dropped his boxers. His cock was thick and dripping precum, edging you had teased him almost equally as much. He pulled your hips even closer to the edge of the bed and hooked your shaking legs over his shoulders. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he slid into you, filling you completely.

He watched your face as your head fell back in pleasure, a loud moan escaping your lips.

"That's my girl," he praised, running his hands up and down your sides, desperately trying to keep himself together.

He started thrusting into you, slow, but so deep you could hardly take it.

"Look at me," he said, his hand came up to circle around your throat to put your attention back on him.

Your eyes opened to watch as he fucked you. You could see a blush of exertion creeping down his neck from under the mask. He gently added pressure to the sides of your throat as the speed of his hips increased.

Your hands reached for him as you got closer to falling apart. Noticing how close you were, he started to circle your clit with his thumb. You came with cry of his name, your hand gripping his forearm, his hand loosening from your throat, causing you to feel almost high.

He planted his hand beside your head as his hips stuttered and he came with a deep moan. You both stilled for a few minutes, panting and trying to regain your bearings.

After a moment, he gently pulled out to go get a towel to clean up your combined mess. You squirmed from the sensitivity as he wiped you down. He whispered an apology before tossing the rag and undoing the belt from your wrists.

Finally removing the mask, he ran a hand down his face and smiled down at you. It was funny to see him have that boyish grin after playing the sexy, dangerous slasher for the past hour. He lifted you up to place you at the top of the bed against the pillows.

"That was awesome," he said, laying down beside you and wrapping you in his arms.

"Yeah it was, I fucking love you." You laughed and buried your head in his neck.

"I love you too sweetheart, and I love that I can do things like this with you."

You nodded in agreement before you started to feel how worn out you were.

Both of you were exhausted from your activities and quickly fell asleep, deciding to take a nap before settling down for a night of Halloween movies and junk food.

[httpuckdrop]

boyfriend? – ws2

will gets possessive (jealous) when seeing you with other guys.

pairing: will smith x friend!reader

genre: fluff, college!au

word count: 760

warnings: mentions of alcohol

author's note: been in SUCH a will mood recently, it's not even funny. he's just so !!!! it's not my fault actually :( anyways have this little blurb, hope u enjoy <3

will hates this.

he doesn't hate parties per se, just this specific one. he does think the party is good; the music is great, a lot of his friends are here, not too calm yet not too crazy. but he hates it mainly because no matter what he does, what room of the apartment he moves into or what classmate he chats to, he always ends up catching you in the corner of his eye.

looking at you is definitely not something will dislikes – on the contrary, he could spend the rest of his life staring at you without feeling bored for even a second. that's how beautiful you are to him.

but seeing you get flirted with and seeing people exploit the fact that you've had more than your share of the drinks table? he hates that.

he tries to handle it by moving along, finding new groups to join and new subjects to talk about to get his mind off you. cool, the school's football team won yesterday; oh yeah, that physics professor seems insane; did you watch that new movie?

it works for a while, but he eventually finds his eyes wandering off to you in every room. you're just that radiant, attracting his attention without even trying. that fact is something he's okay with, and he supposed he'll just have to get used to seeing you with other guys every once in a while, even if it's terribly painful.

but when that stupid football jock you've been talking to for the last fifteen minutes places his hand on your ass as he leans in to whisper in your ear – has he no shame? will asks himself – will has had enough.

in just a few quick strides, he has made it over to you, and his left arm drapes across your shoulders instantly. "there you are, baby," he says, leaning down to press a fleeting kiss to your temple. "been looking all over for you."

the guy takes a step back instinctively, his eyes narrowing at the sight. it takes a moment for you to realize what's happening, but when your head turns toward will, your entire face lights up. "william!" you exclaim, arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him in for a hug. he flinches at the full name – you're even drunker than he thought – but he relaxes once you're in his arms instead of that guy's.

"who are you?"

will looks back to the man you were talking to earlier. "oh, shit- i'm sorry, rude of me not to introduce myself." he holds out his right hand, his other one falling down your waist. "i'm will. nice to meet you, man."

the other guy reluctantly shakes will's hand, frowning slightly. "you two a thing or something?"

will leans the side of his head against the top of yours. "girlfriend and boyfriend for almost two years now."

your eyes widen at this, jaw dropping with a gasp. "boyfriend?" you ask. "you're my boyfriend?"

he chuckles, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels, but nods. "i think you-" he accentuates the word with a tap to your nose. "-have had a little too much to drink if you don't remember me."

the other guy leaves the scene looking a little nauseous, and will can finally relax a little. you, however, seem to not notice anything going on around you, still focused on his touch on your nose several moments later. "too much? no, i'm not even tipsy..."

"sure you aren't." will's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it as he starts walking out of the room. "come on, let's go back to the dorm."

"what dorm?" you ask, yet you reluctantly walk after him.

"your dorm."

once you reach the front door, he rummages through the millions of coats hanging on the wall before finding yours. he hangs it over your shoulders, trying his best to ignore the pout on your lips. "i wasn't done in there." you tilt your head to the side. "why are you forcing me out?"

"i'm taking care of you," he corrects.

"same thing." he lets go of your hand and your eyes follow his movements when he puts on his own jacket, already missing his warmth on your skin. "why?"

he shrugs. "boyfriend duties, i guess."

you step out into the cold together, and the fresh air helps you begin to come to your senses. yet, you find yourself mumbling, "if you're actually my boyfriend, you should kiss me. on the lips."

oh, how badly he wishes he could.

"another time, baby."

[sturniqlo]

hii can u do smth about dad!matt obsessing over baby clothes in the store like u found out u were pregnant and he’s at the store the next day 😭 or js at any point in ur pregnancy and he sees baby aisle full of clothes and toys he cant contain himself

TINY SHOPPING- MATT STURN

summary: five times when matt was overly excited to shop for his baby.

cw: slight cursing, FLUFF

an: thank you anon for the idea! | lowercase intended

masterlist | join my taglist

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

ONE

"babe?" matt enters his home he shares with his girlfriend. "in the kitchen." she speaks loud enough so he can hear her. "look what i got at the store." matt enters the kitchen excitedly, holding something behind his back. yesterday y/n had gave him the best news ever, they were expecting a baby.

"what'd you get?" she puts the down half eaten bagel. "well, me, nick and chris went to the store, and i saw this so i bought it." matt places the plastic bag on the counter in front of her bagel. "open it, go ahead." he pushes the bag closer to her. "okay." she says, grabbing the bag and pulls out a eeyore plushie.

"matt! it's so cute, oh my gosh." she holds it up. "i know it might the a bit early since we just found out. but, i just had to." he rounds the island and hugs her from behind. "it's never to early, babe." she turns her head and kisses him. "i love it, we can put it inside of the crib once we get one."

TWO

"how's this shirt- matt?" y/n had picked up a shirt for an even they had to go to in a couple of weeks, however when she turned around matt was nowhere to be found. "matt?" she walks around the women's section. as she steps out to the main aisle, she sees matt's curls across the women's section in the baby clothing.

"babe, i was looking for you." she smiles when she sees matt's arm is full of baby clothes. "sorry, i just saw this tiny dress and got carried away." he nods down to the pile in his arm. "a dress? we don't know what the baby is yet." she says. "i know, i know. but, i have a feeling it's a girl, plus, look at it. so so tiny." he holds it up. "oh, we definitely need to buy it." y/n nods.

"as much as i want to buy all of these. we need to bring it down a bit. we have eight more months to buy them more clothes." they had gotten a bit carried away and ended up almost filling a cart up with baby clothes. "you're right." matt bites the inside of his cheek deciding what items to put back.

THREE

"oh matt! look at this one!" nick coos holding up a fluffy bear onesie. "put it in the cart." matt rolls it over to nick. "matt," chris comes up next to matt holding up some bibs. "look at these, they all have 'my first holidays'." matt grabs the bibs and flips through them. "y/n bought these the other day but in onesie form. let's get the matching bibs." he drops them into the cart.

"we're back!" chris announces. "hey guys, what'd you guys end up getti-" y/n stops herself mid sentence when she sees each of them holding two bags from carters. "wait- before you say anything, just look at what we bought." matt says.

FOUR

both matt and y/n were laying on the couch watching harry potter, mostly matt because y/n was on her laptop scrolling through baby websites adding items into her online shopping cart. "this is cute." she says to herself, pressing the add to cart button, "can i see?" matt lifts his head up from her thighs. "it's a pair of shoes, what do you think?" she flips the screen so he can see.

"adorable. did you add them?" she nods. "you read my mind." he leans up and pecks her lips. matt goes back to watching the movie and y/n keeps on scrolling. "oh my gosh, baby look at this one." she gasps, and turns the laptop to him.

"oh, i bought that one yesterday."

FIVE

"alright, do you like this one?" matt holds up a sweater and shows the baby on his hip. the small girl only sticks her tongue out of habit. "you're right, looks like it'd be too hot." he puts it back on the rack. "let's look over here. hey, look, how about this hat." he grabs it off of the shelf and puts it on her tiny head. "awe, look at you." he coos.

"let's go look for your mommy." he heads to the cleaning supply aisle where he knows she'd be at. "baby, look at mia. we need to buy it." y/n grabs a new sponge and turns her head at matt's voice. "oh, look at my baby. you look so cute, mia." she gasps and walks over to the smiling baby on matt's hip. mia giggles at her moms coos. "i'm guessing you like it?"

[jupiter-letters]

Having thoughts about Husband!Art and his hands...

A/N: A little fic this weepy eyed blonde boy, I watched challengers yesterday and I'm obsessed.I need Art like carnally. People being hot in movies is so back dude. This was written with a fem!reader(afab, no other physical description will be written) in mind. This is my first attempt at smut so go easy on me I beg.🙏🏽

Word count: 1476

TW: Sexu*l content, f*ngering, reader just having a rough day in general.

divider cred || palestine links

One of the things that attracted you to your husband was his hands. The way his muscles in his hands tighten when he grips his racket, how he holds his coffee mug when takes a sip of coffee in the morning and the way they glide against your skin when you make love.

After having a difficult day he'd like to put those hands to use for you as he so often loves to do....

You walk into your home and make a beeline toward your bathroom, you need to get the grime of the day off you. You don't even notice Art on his laptop on the couch, he was about to greet you before he saw the look on your face. He just watches you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. You always greet him when you get home but he can tell it's been one of those days. He shuts his laptop off and the tv then makes his way to your bedroom. He spots your scattered clothes all over the floor and hears the roar of the bathtub's spout coming to life.

Art leans up against the door to hear what you might be doing, he hesitates before knocking on the door. "Baby?" The sound of running water stops and he hears a small tired voice answer, "Come in.." He opens the door to the sight of you naked and bare, head down in front of the mirror. He looks at you for a moment and turns his eyes to the floor as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. You turn your head toward him but avoid his eyes, he doesn't force you to meet his gaze.

  Art moves behind you in silence and touches your shoulders just to test the waters of how much you're willing to be touched at this moment. You accept it, not moving away but not leaning into it. He wraps his body around you and kisses your shoulders. He kisses up to the  back of your neck. "You wanna talk about it?", he asks as you take a moment to answer such a simple question. You just shake your head, still silent, you do turn around and look up at him. He looks into your eyes, a silent understanding takes over him. "Ok." He whispers, Art moves over to the bathtub and turns the knob back on. He goes to the sink cabinet and grabs some bubble bath. He pours some of the liquid in the water and glides in his hand in the water to make sure the temperature's perfect for you. Once the tub is full you step inside and breathe a sigh of relief. The sweet smell of the bubbles and the warm water expels the tension from your body. Art kneels next the tub, he crosses his arms over the rim and lays his head on his forearms. He gives you a small smile and you return it, you both gaze at each other in quiet admiration. Art takes a hand and caresses your knee with such tenderness, the feeling of his lithe fingers brings you such comfort.

 He moves his body forward and moves his hand further down your thigh looking at you for permission to keep going. You nod your head looking at him expectantly wondering what he was planning to do. Very slowly he slides his hand into the water in between your thighs, eyes laser focused on his own actions. You can feel him gently part your folds, using his index and middle finger to stroke your clit. He moves them slowly up and down, ghosting your entrance. Art looks back up at you when he hears you gasp quietly, he smiles again at the sound. “You want some more baby? Don’t worry I’ll give it to you, I’m gonna take care of you.” he purrs at you, but you won’t get what you want so quickly, he lives to tease you. He adds more pressure to your bud and rubs in more circular motions. Your breath quickens and you lull your head to the side pressing against the tub's rim. He stops for a moment just to move closer to your head so he can kiss your cheek and move onto your lips. You position your body closer to his head and crane your head to taste his lips more. Art continues stroking your clit, rubbing and pinching it between his fingers. He swallows every gasp, groan and whimper you make, stretching the muscles in his neck as far as he can to reach your mouth. The sensation of him touching you and the heat from the water has covered your body in a light sheen of moisture, everything about you is so wet and pliant. He finally feels that you’re ready to take his fingers, he stops kissing you. He wants to look in your eyes as he slides them, he wants to see your mouth part and hear a raspy moan slip from your lips. 

 There’s nothing Art loves more than the look of dazed bliss you get when he’s inside of your body. As he prods your entrance he watches you closely, “Sweetheart look at me…” ,he murmurs. You look up at him, hungry and waiting, the moment you do he slides his fingers eliciting a high pitched moan from you, mouthing widening in pleasure. He continues his slow pace, you can feel the metal of his wedding ring brush up against your lips as he pushes his fingers deeper. He leaves kisses all over your face before returning to your lips, smiling into the kiss. He opens his eyes for a moment to see your legs writhing and clenching around his hand when he curls his fingers every so slightly. The sight makes his arousal even stronger than before, a small wet spot makes its appearance in his sweatpants.  He wouldn’t even need to touch himself, the sight alone of you slowly reaching your peak is enough to make him cum all on his own. The tension in your core continues to build, Art notices you shuddering and finally lets you have what you want. He puts his fingers in as far as he can and makes a scissoring gesture along with curling them pressing into your g-spot at random. As he does this it becomes harder to focus on his mouth devouring you and mind begins to go blank. You grip your hands onto his forearm and shoulder to anchor yourself. He angles his head to kiss the underside of your jaw while he increases his pace. The water in the tub starts to move violently as your body shakes and your legs thrash. You make the attempt to kiss Art again but are overwhelmed by the sounds that escape your mouth, he lets you moan into his mouth keeping his eyes closed and savoring the sounds. One final beckon of his fingers sends you over the edge, tilting your head back, orgasm rippling throughout your body. Art nuzzles his nose against yours and presses his forehead to yours. 

It’s a full minute before he pulls his fingers out of you, when he does he drags his hand up and over your stomach. Between your breasts and glides up the side of your neck, he takes his thumb and caresses your lips before sliding them into his mouth. He smiles down at you and giggles. You laugh with him, “What?” you ask curiously. “I was supposed to help you get clean, not sweaty,” he says with a grin. You laugh again at his statement, “Well…it doesn’t matter, I do feel better now.” He smiles and kisses your forehead, he moves over to the towel holder on the wall and grabs one for you. You wipe some of the suds off you before you stand to be embraced by him with the towel. While he holds you, you notice he’s still hard. You look at him surprised, “You want me to take care of that?” He looks down as if he forgot too. “Oh! No baby it’s ok, I wanted this to be all about you, don’t worry about me.” he tells you softly. His statement makes you soften even more, you step out of the tub next to him. You take the towel from him and wrap it around yourself. “Thank you Art, I mean it. I really needed that.” You take his face into your hand and kiss his lips. “Of course, these hands aren’t just good at tennis y’know. You can use them anytime you want.” he replies smugly. You jokingly push his face away and make your way out of the bathroom looking back at him with a smile. He follows close behind and shuts the door behind him.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff. ♡

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 6: "The one with the late night talk" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: After spending a couple of weeks tormenting yourself over your argument with Frankie, you finally open up to Santi. He offers you a different perspective—one that hurts, but one you need to hear. WC: 6.8k

A/N: TW!!! This chapter touches on sensitive topics such as mental health and references to self-destructive behaviors. If these subjects are difficult for you, please proceed with caution. Thank you so much for reading and for your support! I truly appreciate it. Don’t forget to share your thoughts in the comments, love reading them!!! love you guys<3 If you want to be in the tag list, let me know. Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications!

Tuesday, August 27th

August was dissolving, slipping through your fingers like the last ice cube in a too-warm drink. The days were heavy, pressing down on your skin, thick with the kind of heat that made everything feel slow and sticky. And the nights still belonged to it, summer—restless, humming, too warm to be comfortable but too familiar to resent. Inside, your apartment was quiet, the only real sound the steady, hypnotic whirl of the ceiling fan.

You kept busy. It was easier that way. There was always something to do: the new café down the street had changed the flow of foot traffic past the bookstore, drawing people in, pushing them through the doors in lazy waves. Customers wandered between the shelves, asking about novels they’d heard mentioned on a podcast, about poetry collections they’d been meaning to buy for months. You answered every question, made polite conversation, pretended you weren’t hyper-aware of how your own voice sounded when you used it too much.

Yesterday, a woman had lingered by the register, chatting about the café. She mentioned the owner—a charming man, she said, the kind of person who gave out free donuts on Friday mornings, which struck you as an objectively good and decent thing. You nodded along, made a mental note to stop by one of these days, even though you knew you probably wouldn’t.

But now it was tuesday night, and you were exhausted.

You collapsed onto the couch, grabbed the remote, pressed play. When Harry Met Sally. A movie you loved, though you weren’t really watching. Your legs stretched out along the cushions, arms folded against your chest, eyes on the screen but unfocused.

At the other end of the couch, Mr. Darcy curled into himself, his eyes dark and unblinking, watching you with something close to judgment. Because he knew. He knew that you were pretending. That you were acting like none of it had happened.

When Santi called, you told him you were fine. More than fine. And it wasn’t exactly a lie. You kept busy, your bank account was in better shape than last year. You knew how to work, how to keep your head down. If he asked about Frankie, you told him you hadn’t seen him—true. If he asked about Harry’s wedding, you lied, said you hadn’t decided yet.

Lying over the phone was easy. You’d always been good at it.

But then Santi showed up in person, unannounced, standing in your doorway with his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly, like he was already trying to figure you out.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice even, his gaze sharpening like he could see right through you.

“I’m just tired,” you said, and maybe that was true in a way, but not in the way he meant it. “Didn’t sleep well. Stayed up too late watching tv.”

He hesitated, like he was waiting for you to crack, to fill the silence with the thing you weren’t saying. But you didn’t. Instead, you pivoted—smooth, practiced—asked about Yov, about the wedding. He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.

And you told yourself you wouldn’t think about Frankie.

Except that you did.

At night, when the house was still, when you were alone, his face surfaced in your mind with alarming clarity. The last thing you’d said to him. The way his expression had changed the second he heard you. The way it had made something deep inside you twist and ache.

You felt guilty. It hurt, a slow, deep kind of hurt, like pressing a bruise just to see how much you could stand. But then you reminded yourself—he had hurt you too, in ways you still carried with you. That should’ve made it easier. It didn’t.

Across the room, Mr. Darcy watched you, his gaze unmoving. Like he knew. Like he could see the way your thoughts kept circling, caught in a loop you didn’t know how to break.

The movie flickered on, a blur of motion, of dialogue you’d heard a hundred times before but suddenly couldn’t follow.

When the credits rolled, you stood, crossed the room, reached for your journal where it sat on the kitchen counter.

You flipped to the right page—the one where you kept your list. Little things. Big things. Things that made you feel like you were moving forward, even when you weren’t sure you were.

You uncapped a pen, pressed the tip to the page, and wrote:

Have a New Year’s kiss. Just like Harry and Sally. Less romantic, I guess.

You stared at the words, then exhaled sharply, almost a laugh.

Then you rolled your eyes at yourself, shut the journal, and left it there.

Thursday, August 29th

Yov was out of town, and Santi called that morning while you were at the bookstore, his voice warm but edged with something careful, like he was trying to keep things light. He asked if he could come over later, maybe stay for the night. You told him yes, of course. But you knew there was something beneath the surface of the invitation, an intention that had nothing to do with food. He was checking in on you.

It wasn’t unusual, the dinners. He loved coming over, eating something homemade, stretching out on your couch to watch a movie, half the time falling asleep before the credits rolled. Sometimes you’d drink wine and end up crying with laughter over Scary Movie, even though you could both quote it word for word. But this time, you could tell—he had noticed something. A shift in your mood, a dullness in your voice that you hadn’t managed to hide.

Still, you weren’t complaining. You loved spending time with him.

You closed the bookstore a little earlier than usual and walked the two blocks to the grocery store, the sun pressing against your skin. It was warm, but not suffocating, which felt strange for august. You slipped in your headphones, letting music filter in as you walked past the park. It was quiet today—only a few people scattered under the old trees, some walking, others sitting on benches, faces tilted toward the sky.

And then you crossed the street.

At the intersection, your eyes flicked up, catching the traffic light without thinking. It was green, glowing steadily above you. For some reason, it hit you in the chest like a second heartbeat. The last time you’d seen Frankie, it had been right here. You could still see it in your mind—the green light, the blur of the quiet night, the way your hands had felt too empty as you stepped out of the car, a weight forming somewhere deep in your ribs.

Pointless, thinking about it now. You exhaled, pulled out your phone, and skipped to the next song. The first few notes played, something familiar, something that made you smile despite yourself. Just Like Heaven.

Inside the store, the air conditioning wrapped around you like a cold, weightless hand. A relief. You grabbed a cart and started down the aisles, scrolling through your notes app for the grocery list you’d made after Santi had texted, asking if you could make that spaghetti—the one with the sauce he always raved about.

Ten minutes later, you had almost everything. A bottle of rosé sat nestled between vegetables and pasta, but now you hesitated in front of the wine section, eyeing the rows of deep reds and pale golds. You wanted something good. Something that would feel nice in your hands as you curled up on the couch later.

Merlot. You reached for a bottle, ran your fingers over the label before setting it gently in the cart.

Maybe you’d grab something sweet for later too—chocolates, gummies. Something with nuts and caramel.

Eyes without a face faded out, replaced by the sharp, unmistakable opening of Toxic. Without thinking, you smiled, mouthing the words as you steered the cart down the cereal aisle. Your eyes drifted over the shelves, barely registering the neon-colored boxes, the cartoon mascots grinning at you from their spots. You weren’t really looking for anything there, just moving through the motions.

At the end of the aisle, you turned left.

And then, you saw him.

Frankie.

He was crouched at the far end of the aisle, head tilted slightly, eyes scanning a label like he was deciphering something complicated. He hadn’t seen you.

Black T-shirt, dark gray cargo pants, messy hair. You weren’t sure why you noticed that, why your mind cataloged the details like they meant something. But it did.

For a second, you froze.

Your fingers tightened around the handle of the cart. A quick assessment: the space between you, the angle of his gaze, the seconds you had before he looked up.

You turned.

No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just a sharp turn on your heel, a swift retreat in the opposite direction before he could lift his head, before his eyes could meet yours.

You’d buy candy somewhere else.

Santi dropped onto the couch beside you with all the weight of a falling tree, the cushions sinking under him, a rush of air brushing past you.

"Hey!" you groaned, swatting his shoulder in mock protest.

He just grinned, unbothered, reaching past you to grab his wine glass from the coffee table. You watched as he took a sip, settling in like he had nowhere else to be.

You picked up the remote and resumed the movie, the screen flickering back to life after the pause you’d hit when he disappeared into the bathroom, grumbling about his bladder. You’d made a joke about him getting old, and he’d laughed, but then he muttered something about making an appointment with a urologist. You didn’t ask for details.

Tonight’s movie was his pick. As Above, So Below. A group of overconfident explorers descending into the parisian catacombs, searching for the philosopher’s stone. Things go wrong, as they always do. They end up in hell itself. Santi loved this kind of thing. Honestly, so did you.

It was something you’d shared since you were kids—sitting cross-legged on the floor with your dad, watching horror movies long past bedtime. He had a deep, unwavering love for them, and your mother always scolded him for scaring you senseless. But you loved it, even when you had to sleep with the hallway light on for weeks, even when the images stuck to the backs of your eyelids like aftershadows.

You still remembered the night you watched The Blair Witch Project. Your dad had told you, very seriously, that it was real. That the film had been pieced together from actual footage, that the people in it were still missing. You and Santi believed him completely. You spent days afterward peeking around corners, flinching at the sound of snapping twigs, avoiding the woods near your house like they held something waiting just beyond the trees.

For days, you couldn’t shake it. The idea that somewhere out there, in some dark, endless forest, they were still lost. And then, one day, Santi came home from school, eyes wide, voice low.

“They found something in the woods,” he whispered.

You blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Candles. Leftover wax, melted onto the ground. Bones. Like from some kind of ritual.” His eyes were wide, serious. “One of the guys at school told me. He said there’s probably a witch.”

You swallowed, trying to look unimpressed. “There’s no witch.”

“There must be,” he insisted. “That’s why I’m telling you—you cannot go near there, okay? Or you’ll get lost, and who knows when we’ll find you. I don’t know how to fight witches. Do you?”

You shook your head, lips pressed together, pretending to be indifferent. But during the next few years, you avoided that stretch of forest like your life depended on it. Even when you turned twelve and realized he had made the whole thing up, even when you knew, logically, that there was nothing out there in the trees, you still found yourself watching from a distance, something uneasy curling in your stomach whenever you passed by.

On the screen, one of the protagonists was panicking, struggling against the rope wrapped around his foot. His breathing grew ragged, his face contorted in fear. The music swelled, sharp and urgent. You squinted at the television.

Santi snorted next to you. “Come on, don’t be scared. Nothing’s happening yet.” 

The living room was dark except for the glow of the TV, washing the room in flickering light. Even the small lamp beside you was off. Mr. Darcy, usually nestled against your leg during movie nights, was nowhere to be found—probably curled up in your bed, fast asleep.

“I know,” you murmured, shifting slightly, “but something’s going to happen.”

Santi let out a deep, satisfied sigh as he stretched out beside you, rotating his shoulder with a wince.

“God, I’m so full,” he groaned, then yawned. “But I won’t complain if you give me the leftovers.”

You turned to him with a smirk. The soft glow from the screen reflected in your eyes, and the slight haze of wine made the moment feel heavier, slower.

“You really have no bottom, do you?” you teased, reaching for the half-eaten chocolate on the coffee table. “Fine. You can take them. But only if you make me some of that stew you do later.”

Santi scoffed, sitting up a little. “What did you think of the last one I made? I changed the recipe—more cumin, extra celery. I was waiting for your opinion on it.” His expression was expectant, a little put out.

You frowned, trying to recall. “When?”

He blinked at you, then sat up straighter. “Are you serious?”

You shrugged.

“You couldn’t have missed it,” he insisted, narrowing his eyes. “I put so much more celery in. You didn’t taste it? And a little ginger. That was Yov’s idea.”

“Why are you so fixated on the stew?”

“Because it’s my thing,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest like he was deeply wounded. “I take your spaghetti seriously, right?”

You tilted your head. “I take your cooking seriously too. But I—wait, when? When we had dinner after going to the movies?”

“No, dumbass,” he scoffed. “When you and Frankie came over.”

Your mouth opened slightly. The realization hit you all at once.

Right. That night.

You had completely forgotten about Santi’s meal. If you were remembering correctly, you'd left the container in Frankie’s car.

Your gaze flickered back to the screen, where the protagonist was now screaming. You exhaled.

“Ah. Yeah. I forgot your stew in Frankie’s car.” Your voice was quieter, like the words had escaped before you fully thought them through. Then you turned back to Santi, offering a small, sheepish smile. “But I won’t complain if you make me more.”

Santi studied you for a beat, then tilted his head. “So, are you giving me the leftovers or not?”

“Yes. And some apple pie I made yesterday.” You lifted your eyebrows, watching the way his face lit up.

“Done.”

You settled back into the couch, shifting your gaze toward the screen. The movie was unfolding exactly as expected—each character trapped in their own personal hell, doomed by their own choices. You found a strange sense of relief in knowing this was something that could never happen to you. Not because you thought you were immune to disaster, but because you simply weren’t the kind of person who would put themselves in a situation like that.

The Paris catacombs? Sure, there were guided tours with clear paths and bright lighting—why would anyone willingly crawl through some secret, uncharted part of it, especially when history had already proven that people got lost down there?

You never understood that kind of thrill-seeking. Rock climbing? Fine. Trekking through forests, deserts? Sure. Skydiving, bungee jumping—adrenaline junkies, you got it. But willingly wedging yourself into a cavern, not knowing if you’d make it back out? That part never made sense.

Santi shifted beside you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Have you seen him?”

Your eyes remained on the screen. The only two survivors were finally making their way out, and you felt your body relax.

“Who?”

“Frankie.”

The name landed somewhere uncomfortable, somewhere in your chest. Your eyes flicked to Santi for just a second before returning to the television.

“Oh. No.”

“I thought you were supposed to have dinner at Helena’s weeks ago.”

“As it turned out, no.”

“Why?”

You shrugged, still watching the screen as if it required your full attention. “Been busy. I think he has too. It’s all good.”

Santi didn’t say anything at first, just watched you like he was waiting for something more. You ignored it, eyes trained on the credits rolling up the screen.

“That’s weird,” he said finally. “I talked to Helena this week. She asked about you.”

You nodded, fingers tightening slightly around the remote.

“She also said Frankie’s been dodging her questions. She’s a little worried.”

You exhaled through your nose, lips pressing together as you casually scrolled back in the movie.

"Do you want to watch something else, or are you already falling asleep?" you asked, scrolling absently through the app’s home screen, your thumb hovering over different titles without really seeing them.

Santi shifted beside you. "No, let’s watch something else if you want. Pick whatever."

You nodded, though you weren’t really listening. Your focus had already drifted, your eyes moving over rows of movies and shows, not settling on anything in particular. You were just going through the motions, waiting for something to click. The thought of anything too heavy, too thought-provoking, made your stomach clench. You needed something easy, something you didn’t have to engage with beyond letting the sounds fill the space.

Eventually, your finger landed on Family Guy, and you hit play without much thought. The opening chords of the theme song played like muscle memory, a familiar noise cutting through the low hum of tension in the room. Your head felt a little fuzzy from the alcohol, pleasantly weightless in a way that made it easier not to think too hard.

Next to you, Santi exhaled, long and deliberate, before tilting his head against your shoulder. A few beats of quiet passed before he spoke again.

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?" His voice was careful, measured.

You blinked at the screen. "What?"

"With Frankie."

"Nothing happened with him," you said automatically, too quickly.

Santi made a small noise, like he didn’t believe you for a second. "Right. Sure."

You turned your head slightly but kept your gaze forward. "Why—why would that surprise you, anyway? It’s not like we’ve ever gotten along." You let out a dry, humorless laugh, the kind that barely reached your throat.

"Exactly," he said, sitting up straighter beside you. "That’s exactly why I’m asking. I know you well enough to know when something’s off. And I know him well enough to know the same thing. You add those two things together, plus the fact that Helena sounded concerned when she talked to me earlier, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out something must have happened." He turned to look at you fully now, voice shifting into something closer to amusement. "I mean, I knew this whole plan between you two wasn’t exactly solid, but I didn’t think you’d manage to mess it up this fast."

You turned to him then, incredulous. "Seriously? You, Santiago—the one who’s been saying from the beginning that this was a terrible idea, who’s been acting like a prophet of doom about the whole thing—you’re surprised?"

Santi’s lips quirked up, eyes glinting. He looked, irritatingly, pleased with himself.

"Knew it," he said. "So what happened?"

You let out a breath, shaking your head before turning back to the TV. The theme song was over now, the first scene of the episode already unfolding. You folded your arms, pressing them tightly against your chest, like maybe you could keep whatever you were feeling contained that way. But it was still there, that dull, unwelcome ache settling back in.

"We had an argument," you said finally.

Santi waited a second, then: "About what?"

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch between you, weighing your options. Santi was staring at you, waiting. 

You’d already talked to Emma about this. She had listened carefully, nodding at the right moments, offering up her own quiet honesty in return. She hadn’t sugarcoated things, hadn’t let you off the hook. She had even agreed with you—that yes, you had been cruel, whether or not Frankie had deserved it.

So you had already said the words once, already unburdened yourself. But the weight of not telling Santi felt different, heavier in a way that had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with trust.

You wanted to tell him. Of course you did. He had been listening to you your whole life, letting you spill your secrets without fear of judgment. And he had never once betrayed you, never let anything slip where it wasn’t supposed to. Nothing you told him would reach Frankie. Nothing. You knew that.

But this—this was harder. It wasn’t just about Frankie. It was about you. About saying something out loud that you weren’t even sure you had fully admitted to yourself yet. It was one thing to talk about your insecurities with Emma. It was another thing entirely to lay them bare in front of your brother. To tell him that Frankie—of all people—had seen them before you’d even opened your mouth.

Still, what choice did you have? Santi wasn’t going to let this go. He never did.

"About Harry," you said finally, your voice flat, stripped of any real emotion.

Santi frowned. "Harry?"

You nodded.

"Why?"

You exhaled, suddenly hyperaware of the breath leaving your body, the way it felt too sharp, too deliberate.

"Because," you said, shifting against the couch, "I’m not as over him as I thought I was. And Francisco apparently decided that was his business. Thought it would be a great idea to ask me a million questions about it, maybe even offer up some unsolicited advice."

Santi folded his arms, his expression shifting from confusion to something more serious.

"What kind of advice?"

You turned to look at him then, and whatever was in your expression must have given him pause.

"Santi," you said carefully, "I’m going to tell you this, but you can’t say anything until I’m done. No opinions, no interruptions. You can ask questions, but don’t react until I finish. Okay?"

He straightened slightly, concern settling into the lines of his face. Then he nodded. "Okay."

You swallowed.

"The thing is…" Another breath. Another hesitation. "I haven’t been feeling okay. And it’s not just because of Harry, or Frankie, or any of that. It’s… more than that. It’s been going on for a long time. Years, even. It’s about me. It’s about the way I am, the way I live my life. Or, maybe, the way I don’t. I feel like I’m afraid all the time. And that fear—it limits me. It always has. You know that. You’ve seen it. Remember when we were kids, and you and Dad would invite me camping? And I’d always make up some excuse because the idea of sleeping in the middle of nowhere freaked me out? Or that weekend you wanted me to go rock climbing with you?"

He nodded, his expression unreadable now.

"And I hate that about myself," you admitted, voice quieter now. "Because fear holds me back. It keeps me from doing things that—who knows?—maybe I’d like. But how am I supposed to know that if I never try?"

Santi opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance.

"No," you said, holding up a finger. "No opinions yet. Remember?"

He lifted his hands in surrender, pressing his lips together like he was physically stopping himself from speaking.

You exhaled, pressing your palms against your thighs. “Well, that’s just it. That’s the thing that’s been bothering me for a long time. Longer than I want to admit. And it—it doesn’t feel good. I don’t feel good about it.” You paused, fingers twitching like they wanted to pick at something, to fidget with the hem of your shirt, the couch cushion, anything. “And then there’s Harry.” You let out a small laugh, barely more than an exhale. “I really thought I was over him, or at least I told myself I was. But I don’t think I am. And I don’t even think it’s about him, exactly.”

Santi tilted his head slightly, watching you closely. You waved a hand, dismissing whatever concern you saw creeping into his face.

“It’s not really about him,” you clarified. “It’s about what he did. How easy it was for him to let me go. How easy it was for me to let myself fall into something I knew wasn’t going to end well. I wasn’t stupid—I knew he didn’t want anything serious. He told me that. But I still didn’t leave when I started to feel more than I should have. And I guess—” you swallowed, your throat suddenly tight, “I guess some part of me really thought that if I just waited long enough, he’d start feeling the same way.”

You shook your head, eyes flicking back to the TV screen. The cartoon characters moved in exaggerated motions, their voices playing somewhere in the background of your thoughts. You weren’t really hearing them.

“But he didn’t,” you added, quieter now. “If anything, he did the opposite.”

Santi didn’t say anything, and you appreciated that. He just sat there, listening, waiting.

You rubbed your hand over the couch cushion beside you, letting the soft fabric ground you before you spoke again.

“And then, when we saw him that day,” you continued, “Francisco basically laughed in my face when I told him I was going to the wedding. He thought it was pathetic. Told me I was a masochist. And I got pissed off, obviously. But the thing is, I hadn’t actually thought about it that much before then. I mean, yeah, I knew Harry was oblivious, that he probably hadn’t even considered how it might feel for me to be there. But I hadn’t really let myself think about how ridiculous it was that I said yes in the first place.”

You swallowed, tracing the seam of the couch absentmindedly.

“Francisco, though—he was vocal about it from the start. He never held back. He called Harry an idiot, told me it was obvious he knew how I felt and just pretended he didn’t. And that night at your place—” you hesitated, glancing at Santi, “I’d had a bad day. Like, a really bad day. I was already in my own head, already torturing myself by checking Harry’s social media, going down the usual spiral. And Francisco, of course, noticed. And he asked me about it on the way home.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “But it was the way he did it. He was relentless. He just kept pushing and pushing, like he was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I—I just felt awful. Like he was doing it on purpose. Like he wanted me to crack. Because…” You trailed off, staring blankly at the screen again. “I don’t know. It’s like he knows exactly which buttons to press to tear me apart. He always has. He finds my weak spots and then just—shoves them in my face.”

Your voice wavered slightly, but you didn’t look at Santi until you were finished speaking. When you did, your eyes felt heavy, glazed over with something you didn’t want to name.

Santi’s expression was unreadable. His voice, careful. “What did he say to you?”

You felt your heartbeat pick up, steady but noticeable, like a pulse pressing against your ribs.

"That I needed to get over it." Your voice came out unsteady, something raw beneath the words. "That I had to stop making Harry into this tragic hero who unknowingly destroyed me." You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve. "But he wasn’t gentle about it. He wasn’t even neutral. He was the opposite. And I—" You hesitated, feeling the weight of it settle in your chest. "I know he’s probably right. I do. But that didn’t make it feel any less awful. It didn’t make me feel any less—"

You stopped. Your throat burned. Your vision blurred at the edges, a tear threatening to spill over. You blinked hard, forcing it back.

"He made me feel stupid," you admitted finally. "Like I was ridiculous for feeling this way in the first place. And that’s what really gets me—because I know he doesn’t actually care. It’s not like this was some act of concern, like he wanted to help me move on. He did it just to dig at me. To get a reaction. To remind me that I’m weak in ways he isn’t." Your breath came out unsteady. "What the fuck does he know about how I feel?"

Santi exhaled your name softly, the way he always did when you were teetering on the edge of something painful. Then, without a word, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in.

The warmth of it—his steady heartbeat, the way his chin rested lightly on the top of your head—worked like a balm. It didn’t erase the feeling completely, but it dulled it, took the sharpest edges away. You closed your eyes for a second, just breathing.

"I know your relationship with him is complicated," Santi murmured, "but, really… Frankie’s not that kind of person."

You pulled back, looking up at him in disbelief.

"He’s different with you," you said, shaking your head. "With me, it’s—something else."

"No, no, I get it," Santi said, his voice careful. "I’ve watched you two argue for years. But what I mean is… he wouldn’t ask you those kinds of questions just to be cruel. He wouldn’t push you about something painful just to see you suffer."

You scoffed, looking away. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know him." Santi’s tone was even, patient. "Better than anyone. I know he can be unbearable and insufferable, and I know he gets under your skin. But he doesn’t have an ounce of real cruelty in him. Whatever his reasons were, they weren’t to hurt you."

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "Doesn’t seem like it." You ran a hand through your hair, shaking your head. "Why would he care so much, then? Why does it even matter to him? He doesn’t know anything about what it’s like to regret something this much."

Santi didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Like he was deciding what to say, or maybe whether to say anything at all.

Then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, his eyes flickering to the coffee table before landing back on you.

"What has he told you about Rachel?" he asked finally.

You blinked.

"Not much," you admitted. "That she dumped him. Maia didn’t like her. Helena mentioned something, but she never gave me details."

"Yeah," Santi nodded, exhaling through his nose. "Well, Frankie and Rachel were together for almost two years. Longer, if you count the months they spent circling each other before making it official. It wasn’t perfect—none of them are—but this was… different. He loved her. I mean, really loved her. The kind of love that makes you a little unrecognizable, you know? I’d never seen him like that before. But it wasn’t good for him."

He looked at you then, more serious now, like he was weighing his words before saying them out loud.

"I don’t know if it’s my place to tell you this," he said, "but you’re my sister, and I trust you."

You didn’t say anything, just kept your eyes on him, still reeling from everything you already knew—and everything you didn’t.

"A few years ago, Frankie left the CAG after one of his closest friends died in the middle of a mission." Santi paused, his jaw tightening for a brief second. "It hit him hard. Too hard. Took him a long time to find his footing again. He came back to Austin, took a year off before he even thought about working again. And, you know, he got better. Kind of. But never fully."

You blinked at him, stunned. You had no idea.

All those years ago, when Santi had mentioned a friend who had returned to Austin, a friend who needed help—you’d never really thought about it. He’d never given you details. He’d talked about Will and Benny often enough, but Frankie had been a more distant presence, like an acquaintance who existed on the fringes of your brother’s life. Someone he never really brought up.

"And then, a few years later, he met Rachel," Santi went on. "And at first, we thought—okay, maybe this is good. Maybe this will be good for him." He shook his head. "But it wasn’t. She was… possessive. Controlling. Not good to him at all. But Frankie was in love, and what were we supposed to do? He was happy—at least in the moments where she let him be—so we let it go, even though we didn’t approve."

You could hear the resentment in his voice. The hindsight.

"But he was still up and down. And then, his dad died."

Santi rubbed a hand over his face, and when he looked back at you, there was something deeply weary in his expression.

"He spiraled," he said. "It wrecked him, just like you’d expect it to. And then—two months later, Rachel left him."

You felt the words hit you square in the chest.

Santi exhaled sharply, shaking his head again, looking indignant in a way you rarely saw.

"She told him he wasn’t what she wanted anymore. That he wasn’t enough. That he wasn’t acting like the man she needed. That he spent too much time holed up, too much time in bed." Santi’s voice turned hard. "Frankie was fucking depressed, and she had the audacity to tell him he was being selfish. That he wasn’t stepping up."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Jesus," you whispered, closing your eyes. You could feel the sharp sting of tears, the words you had thrown at Frankie earlier coming back in painful flashes.

Santi let the silence settle for a second before continuing.

"Anyway," he said, his voice lower now, "she left. And two weeks later, Benny saw her at the mall, kissing another guy. He told us, asked if we should say something. If it was even worth it. And at first, we thought maybe we shouldn’t. But Frankie… he thought he could still win her back. He was talking about changing for her, about fighting for her. And I swear—" Santi let out a breath that sounded close to a laugh, but there was nothing amused about it. "I’ve never been so angry at someone in my life. And the worst part?" He glanced at you. "She had been seeing that guy for months."

You felt something tighten in your throat.

"You told him?"

"Yeah," Santi said. "We had to. Even though we knew it would wreck him."

"And what did he say?"

Santi’s expression turned unreadable for a moment. Then he furrowed his brows, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he said. "He just nodded, got up, and walked away."

You didn’t say anything. A moment passed, stretched and heavy, and you felt Santi tense beside you. Like he was bracing himself.

You turned to look at him, already knowing he wasn’t finished.

"Less than a month later," he said, his voice quieter now, like the words had to be handled with care. "Helena called me. Said Frankie was in the hospital. He’d taken something—pills, a lot of pills. And he’d been drinking."

Your stomach twisted, a deep, sinking feeling settling in your chest.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are you saying he tried to—"

"I don’t know." Santi shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "I never asked. And none of us did. He didn't wanted us to, he was clear about it. And I think we were afraid to." He hesitated, like he was weighing his words again. "And to ask him now, after all this time… I don’t know, it feels... it feels out of place. Because I really think he's in a better place now, so."

You just stared at him, eyes wide, unmoving. Something inside you cracked, like a hairline fracture deep enough to make the whole structure feel unsteady.

Santi exhaled and looked down at his hands.

"What I’m trying to say," he went on, his voice softer now, "is that if anyone understands what it feels like to be abandoned, to feel like you’re not enough—it’s Frankie. That’s why I don’t think he was trying to hurt you. I think he was just… misguided. Trying to help in the only way he knows how."

Your lips trembled, the weight of everything pressing down on you, thick and unbearable. A sharp breath caught in your throat, half a gasp, half a sob. You turned to Santi, searching his face for something—understanding, reassurance, maybe a way out of the feeling that had settled, heavy, inside your ribs.

He furrowed his brows, watching you carefully, a crease of worry between his eyes.

“I…” You barely got the word out before tears blurred your vision. A thick, aching regret filled your chest. “I said horrible things to him.”

Santi didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, one hand resting against the back of your head.

You let yourself sink into the hug, but it didn’t make the feeling go away. If anything, it made it worse—because you couldn’t undo it. Because knowing the truth now didn’t erase the things you’d said, the sharp edges of your words still lodged somewhere deep in your memory, in Frankie’s memory.

And yes, he had been cruel to you for years. Yes, you had convinced yourself that whatever existed between you was just mutual disdain, nothing more, nothing less. But now, everything felt different. Everything had shifted, changed color. And you hated the way it looked now.

You weren’t this person. The kind who threw words like weapons, who dug into wounds just to make them deeper. You knew too well what it was like to feel that kind of hurt.

“What did you tell him?” Santi asked, his voice gentle, careful.

You swallowed hard, keeping your face pressed against his shirt, as if not looking at him would make it easier to admit.

“That he must have a lot of experience feeling like shit. That he was nothing but a failure, a loser. That he was drowning in his own misery.”

Santi let out a quiet curse under his breath, his fingers moving absently over your hair.

“I was awful, Santi,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

Santi exhaled. “I’m sure he knows you were angry—”

“Why?” You pulled away, looking up at him, your face tight with frustration. “Why would he believe that? We’ve never been kind to each other. Not once. Why would he think this time was any different?”

“Because you’re not cruel,” Santi said simply.

You shook your head. “I wanted to hurt him.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person.” He studied you, his gaze steady. “I think… Unfortunately, I think you’re both a little messed up in the same ways, and that’s exactly why he recognizes it in you so easily. But that doesn’t make you a bad person. And it doesn’t make him one either.”

Silence settled between you. You lowered your gaze, your fingers twisting the hem of your sleeve.

“Do you think I’m fucked up?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Santi snorted, shaking his head. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Not really. Not really, really fucked up. Just a little. Fixable.”

Despite yourself, you let out a weak, uneven breath—something that wasn’t quite a laugh, but close enough. You glanced up at him, the smallest trace of humor flickering in your eyes.

“What am I supposed to do, Santi?”

Your voice was so soft, so uncertain, that he visibly winced. He didn’t like hearing you like this. Santi sighed, his own exhaustion catching up with him, but there was something warm in his expression, something steady.

“Right now? You go to bed and get some sleep,” he said, nudging your arm. “Later? Maybe we figure out how to fix this. Talking to Frankie would probably be a good start, don’t you think?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll get back to you on that in the morning.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti @daybleedsintonightfa11 @mys2425 @pigeonmama @speaktothehandpeasants @pez3639 @stylesispunk @imaginecrushes @isla-finke-blog @smiithys @jokesonthem @brittmb115 @sukivenue @awkwardmebaby @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @suzysface @picketniffler

[heartfullofleeches]

[Angst]

Childhood Best Friends with a small age gap- two or three years, nothing crazy- but it means everything as they age.

It was hard for them to make friends their age when you first met. They liked things that were too "childish" for their peers - things another child who lived not to far away adored. They'd seen each other on the way to school, but they didn't interact frequently due to their difference in grade.

Until that day-

"Whoa...Cool backpack. You like that show too?"

"Thanks... I'm thinking of getting a new one though... Do you want me to ask my parents if you can have it?"

"What?! It looks fine to me... Why are you getting rid of it?"

"My friends called me a baby... I won't be able to go back to class without everyone laughing at me unless I get a better one."

"That's silly!.... It's on right now... Wanna watch it with me?"

The two were inseparable from then on- School hindered the time they had to see each other each morning, but as soon as it let out - both ran to meet with their new best friend. The elder of the pair was often mocked and teased for their choice, but they could hardly care anymore. They had someone who'd stick by their side to the very end - childish fixations and all.

Years went on and they made new friends. It happens. More obstacles began piling up throughout - chipping away at the few hours they scarcely had to begin with. Studying, Hobbies, balancing days between hanging out with other friend groups and the person who once meant the world. They tried to make things works, but nothing went to plan-

"Is it alright if Y/n comes with us tonight?"

"Y/N? Aren't they're too young to see this movie? We shouldn't be responsible if they have night terrors or something.."

"They aren't that young... Are they?"

They never thought about it before. You were so close in age as kids it never hit them that as you grew that little gap drew a bridge between you - and it was easier to let you go than finding an alternative.

"Hey, Dude! Are we still on for this weekend? I can't believe they're making a reboot after all this time!.."

"Are my messages going through? You haven't responded in a while... I saw you outside school yesterday and yelled your name, but....."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Hey."

"You're hanging out with them today? Did you forget about my birthday?...."

"You removed me off your list of friends...We're still friends, right?"

"Let me alone. I'm sick of being your babysitter. Go find friends your own age and stay away from mine."

And that was the end of things.

College cames around and their live became relatively tame. Their thoughts drifted to that childhood friend of theirs every now and again, but between school and partying with the new friends they had made - those memories faded to the back of their mind.

An acquaintance asks them to help show some new faces around the campus. One sticks out to them amongst the crowd. It's you. What do they say to you after all these years? You don't look sad to see them. Nor angry. Intact - you look..

Relieved.

Pulling them aside at the end of the tour, you free yourself from the burden that's weighted down on you since they left you.

"I'm sorry."

"It was never my intention to hold you back. Overtime I realized I was just that annoying kid who clung onto you because I thought you were my first and only friend...When you never felt that way about me. I'm sorry for taking that away from you. If our paths cross again, I promise I won't even look at you."

After being abandoned by your best friend- the person you looked up to most, you matured well beyond your years in hopes that would make you like them again. Overtime, you gave up that goal, but others could see how you've changed.

"Isn't that.... Y/n?.."

"Oh, man- It is! You guys were glued at the hip before we became teens."

"They're..kinda cute... Do you still have their number?"

All this time apart, a feeling long forgotten resurged inside them. The need to protect you. You didn't know these people like they did. You shouldn't be going to parties with them, getting to know and befriend them. They'll only hurt you - worse than they had. They never should have said goodbye to you- They should have allowed the feelings they were so scared to have, but had always been there develop and blossom naturally until you both were adults ready to move on to that stage in your friendship.

They know you best. No matter how much you grow as a person, you're still the same.

"That's a cute Keychain, Y/n!"

"Thanks! I've loved this show since I was a kid!"

They'll prove it to you.

[vbecker10]

The Brother Tax

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You find out Loki has an interesting way of getting cash.

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a little while and one of my friends from work finally convinced me to write it. (Love you!) This is silly and I know the first bit doesn't have Loki but just wait for it. I hope you all enjoy it! 💚

Bucky opens the door to the bank and holds it open for Steve and Thor. "Just admit you lost the money," Bucky rolls his eyes.

"I didn't lose it," Thor says defensively. "I swear I had a hundred dollars this morning." He walks over to the ATM and opens his empty wallet.

"Sure," Steve laughs as he stands next to Bucky across from the ATM. "It just vanished into thin air."

Thor sighs and puts his card in the machine, "I don't know where it went but I didn't lose it. Why would I lie about that?"

"So you don't have to pay me for losing the bet," Steve suggests.

Thor shakes his head as five crisp 20 dollar bills pop out of the ATM. He reaches for them but the second his fingers touch the bills, they vanish instantly. "What the-?" he asks, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"What?" Bucky stands up straight from the wall he was leaning on.

"It's gone," Thor looks over at his friends. "The money just... disappeared."

"Seriously?" Steve folds his arms across his chest in disbelief. "Look, if you don't have the money, it's fine. We'll find a different way for you to work off the bet."

"I have money," Thor says, his annoyance growing. "This is ridiculous," Thor mumbles as he shakes his head, turning back to the ATM. The God of Thunder presses a few more buttons slowly and another stack of 20 dollar bills comes out. With a deep breath, he touches the money lightly but again the cash vanishes instantly as Steve and Bucky lean closer to watch. Thor swears loudly in Asgardian, causing the two super soldiers to take a step back in surprise.

Bucky laughs, "Well that's a problem."

Thor angrily presses the buttons on the ATM again and takes a step away when the money comes out. "Steve can you...?" he asks, trying to contain his frustration.

"Yeah, I've got it," Steve steps up to the machine and easily takes the bills. Counting out the sixty Thor owes him, he hands the reaming money over.

Thor holds out his hand and as soon as the bills are placed in his palm, they vanish.

"Loki!" he yells as he slams the door to the bank opens and storms out followed closely by Bucky who can barely contain his laughter and Steve as he puts his winnings into his wallet.

As you lay on the couch with your head on Loki's lap a small green glow catches your attention. You look away from the TV, your focus moving towards the end table where Loki keeps his wallet and keys. A few moments later you see the green glow again and sit up, staring at his wallet curiously.

"What's wrong darling?" he asks.

"Your wallet is... glowing," you tell him.

He chuckles as it glows a third time. "Oh, that's the brother tax," he says with a smile that you know means trouble.

"The what?" you raise an eyebrow.

"Thor was being rather annoying yesterday so I decided to try out a new spell," he explains. "Any time he comes in contact with cash, it will appear in my wallet."

You giggle, "Loki, that's mean!"

He smirks, "You didn't seem to mind when I bought you those flowers and that little green bear."

"You bought those with Thor's money?" you look over at the cute, stuffed bear sitting on the armchair in the corner then back up at Loki.

"It's my money now," he corrects you gently.

"Mmhmm," you hum in response. "You tell Thor that when he figures out what's happening."

"It'll take that oaf a week to figure it out," Loki insists.

You lay back down on his lap and Loki leans down to kiss your lips lightly. He sits back again and runs his fingers through your hair as you both continue to watch the movie.

(Twenty minutes later)

"Loki!" Thor shouts from the hallway as he knocks heavily on the door.

"A week huh?" you ask, sitting up.

"It seems I might have underestimated him a little bit," Loki admits with a shrug.

"So... what's the plan now?" you wonder as Thor knocks again.

Loki chuckles, "I honestly hadn't thought this far ahead but I suggest we don't open the door for the time being."

You laugh and turn the TV up a bit louder as you lay back down. "What am I going to do with you, Mischief?"

He kisses your forehead, "Love me?"

"I guess I can do that," you smile up at him then focus on the movie once again as Thor's knocks become fainter.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @ash-muses @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-asgard @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @simone818283 @hopefuldreamers-world @blackhawkfanatic @sabspoetic @anukulee @lovinglokilaufeyson @beaniemoon @hotburreaux

[ikarus-angel]

Awwww! Man they are so sweet! :D

Hihi my friend will love it, maybe I will get milder restrictions regarding Rusger..? Probably not </3

But yessssss thanks darling your artstyle(s) is so pleasant🥺🥺🥺

Golden Days🍁༄.ೃ࿔*:･

For my dear @zhenyu777 so that I can be debt free once again yay <3

Inspired by your interpretation of the characters, look at his pretty face 🥰

Without overlay:

When will he get himself in debt again? Only time will tell.

[wabatle]

Blue Lock boys when you're on your period featuring: Reo, Rin, Bachira, Nagi can be read as either afab!reader or fem!reader warnings: everything that comes with having a period (obviously) like blood, pads/tampons, cramps, etc a/n: I'm on my period as I write this and it fucking sucks. lmk if you want a pt2 with more characters!

☆彡Reo Mikage

As soon as he figured out you got your period, he was all over you

Constantly asking if you were okay, if you needed anything, if you wanted to go home if you were out

Gets you the most high quality and expensive products 💀

Does so much research on what it is and how to take care of you

Genuinely will skip practice or important work (or other stuff he does) to stay with you

If you have bad cramps, he's insisting you stay home and in bed and he'll dedicate himself to taking care of you

Weirdly good at discrete spot checking. If you think you bled through your pants, he's got you.

He's especially careful to not hurt you because he knows you can get upset easily, and he might laugh a little bit if you're crying over something miniscule

You came out of the bathroom, a sickly expression on your face.

“Is it that time of the month?” Reo asked nervously.

“Yeah, that would explain why I felt so sick yesterday.” You mumbled.

“Here, come here,” he said, allowing you to crash into his arms, “I'll take care of you, baby.”

“Huuuh…” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“You okay, baby? Need any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, probably…”

“Okay.” He kissed your head. “I'll go get some. I can also get your heating pad if you want it?”

“Yeah, thanks…”

“‘Course! I told you I would take care of you, babe. Now, go lay down. I'll be back in a sec.” He kissed your head.

☆彡Rin Itoshi

Also all over you, but in an indirect way

You're constantly on his mind, he's worried about you

As worried as he is about you, he would still choose to go to practice, but he'll stop somewhere on the way home to get you something, and he'll come home if you need him urgently

He buys you literally everything you need, pads, tampons, you name it, he'll go out and buy it

He doesn't change his behavior when you're on your period, but he does take notice to your intense reactions, like that time you starting sobbing hysterically after he told you practice was stressful and just wanted to go to bed (didn't have time for you)

He keeps a little “period emergency kit” with him at all times 🥺 he needs to make sure he can give you what you need just in case you're out in public and you need something

You and Rin were out to dinner and you had gotten your period the morning before.

“Ughh…” You mumbled, clutching your stomach.

“Cramps?” Rin asked quietly, as not to embarrass you.

“Yeah…”

“Here,” he said, pulling a heat pack out of the kit in his pocket, “go to the bathroom and put this on.”

“Rin…” You smiled, “Thanks, baby.” You took the pack and went to the bathroom.

When you got back, your food had already arrived.

“How is it? Do you feel better?” He asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you need anything else, let me know.” He added, leaning across the table to kiss your head.

☆彡Meguru Bachira

Another who's all over you… literally

He's really really worried when he sees you crying on the bed because of cramps, but he really doesn't know what a period is or what it does to you

Brings you tons and tons of snacks because he really doesn't know how to help you

If you don't stay over at his house, he's texting you all day. In the morning, before you go to bed, he's just making sure you're not dead!

Steals his mom's period supplies to give to you. It might not be the exact brands you like, but you appreciate the thought

Skips practice for you with the excuse that “it's that time of the month and you really need his help” but you're actually lying on the couch with a heating pad watching a movie

Bachira burst through the front door, carrying tons of snacks. “Hi baby!”

“Woah, you're home early. Welcome home!” You smiled from your spot on the couch.

“Thanks! I brought you tons of snacks!” He dropped the snacks on the table and plopped down on the couch, snuggling close to you. “I got out of practice thanks to your period!”

You giggled. “Don't thank it yet. I'll probably cry about it later.”

“Don't worry! I'll take care of you!” He said.

“Thank you, baby.” You kissed his cheek, making him giggle and kiss your lips back.

He got up and grabbed some snacks. “Let's watch a movie!”

“Ah, shouldn't we have dinner first?”

“Noo, you're on your period! I have to treat you well today!”

“And that means skipping dinner?”

“Do you want to skip dinner?”

“No, not really…”

“Then let's order takeout! What do you feel like having?”

☆彡Seishiro Nagi

Sooo tired, but he'll put up with you (he loves you so much)

He’ll hold you sooo tight while you're cuddling, and he'll keep playing his game

He tells you to relax in his arms and make sure you took your meds, and he'll want you to fall asleep while he plays his games

In his eyes, it just means he has to take care of you instead of the other way around, so he'll do the least he can do

Another one who would 100% use you as an excuse to get out of practice

Literally has a small bucket of pads, tampons, and other “period stuff” on a shelf so he can just grab it without getting up

If he notices you're more emotional as usual, he'll be like, “are you about to get your period?”

and then he'll mentally prepare himself for it

You had just dropped your water bottle, causing it to open and spill everywhere. You were crying.

“Don't worry about it, angel.” Nagi assured you, grabbing a paper towel to mop it up.

“I–I’m sorry… I–I didn't mean to…” You mustered through sniffles.

“Don't cry, baby.” He pulled you closer to him, resting your head on his chest. “I took care of it.”

You put your forehead on his chest, and he could feel your tears staining his shirt.

“Come on, angel. Let's go back to bed.”

“But it's 3:00 pm?”

“Doesn't matter. You need to take more meds anyway. It's been 6 hours.”

“Okay…”

He kissed your head. “Don't cry. It's a hassle.”

You playfully nudged him, already feeling better. “Well, you're my boyfriend, so you're obligated to take care of me.”

“Says who?” He asks, plopping down on the bed.

“Says me!” You giggled, plopping down next to him.”

He pulled you closer and pulled out his Switch.

[tonyspank]

WH0 R U 2???

Summary: Tara wakes up at her attractive Professor’s home.

Warnings: 18+ smut, g!p reader (literally think r is a service top??? idk? sorry for the dom’s & subs 😭)

A/N: pt.3 will not but smutty but bloody (there are different ghostfaces who r y’all suspecting?) also the smut scene was inspired by my b-day gift @wol-fica i love u

part 1

Tara woke up with the world's biggest headache. When she sat up in the random bed she had just awakened in, she realized she was in a completely unfamiliar room. The walls were white, with some paintings here and there, and the room was filled with a faint scent of lavender.

Tara left the bed, her head pounding with each step she took. She stumbled towards the door, trying to remember how she ended up in this strange place.

As she makes her way down the hallway, coffee begins to fill her nostrils. She follows the scent and finds herself in a cozy kitchen, where a pot of freshly brewed coffee sits on the counter. "You're awake, a voice says from behind her.

Startled, Tara turns around to see her professor, and suddenly, all of her memories rush back to her.

"Leaving already?" Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow. Tara hesitates, unsure of how to respond. She just nods, "Yeah, my... my rides here." Frankie keeps his gaze fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Tara can feel the weight of his scrutiny, making her even more uncomfortable.

"Oh damn, well, let me walk you out." Frankie offers, breaking the silence. Tara's heart races as they make their way towards the exit, unsure of what's going on. It was obvious Frankie wanted to get into her pants; he'd been following her the entire night.

You notice Tara at the exit, looking slightly flustered and uneasy. You quickly exit your car and walk to her. "You're her ride?" A brown-haired boy asks you.

"Yeah, I'm her ride," you confirm, giving the boy a curious look. The brown-haired boy gives you a skeptical look before reluctantly stepping aside, allowing you to approach Tara. As you reach her side, you offer a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her discomfort.

Tara's eyes drop to your attire, taking in your sleepwear. A wife-beater and black boxers that matched your black Nike socks. You notice this, "Sorry, I just woke up about five minutes ago."

"All good...Professor." Tara smiles. You shake your head, "Y/N is just fine. You're in my kitchen, after all. No need for formalities." Tara blushes and nods, "Right, sorry. Y/N it is then."

You chuckle softly, "No need to apologize, Tara. Can I offer you some coffee?" Tara gratefully accepts the offer, "I could definitely use a cup. Thank you, Y/N." She takes a seat at the kitchen table as you start pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

"Do you need me to drop you off?" Tara tries to take a sip of her coffee, but it's too hot, causing her to wince in pain spilling a bit on her hand. "Shit! That's hot!" Tara exclaims, quickly pulling her hand away from the cup. You rush to grab a napkin, softly grasping her hand and gently wiping away the spilled coffee.

"But, um, yeah, I'd love a ride if you don't mind," Tara mutters, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as you touch her hand. She tries to hide her blush by taking a deep breath and looking away, but the warmth of your touch lingers.

"Of course." Your phone begins ringing, interrupting the moment. You quickly apologize and grab your phone from the kitchen counter. You answer the phone without looking at the caller ID. A deep voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Y/N." You scratch your head, trying to place the voice. It sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it.

The voice clears its throat, and your ear is soon filled with Laura's laugh. "Haven't you watched Stab?"

"Ohhh! Yeah, I just did yesterday." You chuckle, realizing that the deep voice was an imitation of a character from the movie. "How's your mom? She doing better?"

Laura's laughter subsides as she replies, "She's slowly recovering, thanks for asking. The doctors say she should be back on her feet in a few weeks." You feel relieved to hear the positive update about Laura's mom and express your well wishes for her continued recovery.

"Anywho! I was just calling because I wanted to know how your first lecture was. Did everyone behave?"

You chuckle and respond, "Well, it was definitely an interesting experience. The students were well-behaved, and I was actually surprised by their level of engagement. It seems like they're all eager to learn and participate in class discussions."

Laura hums over the phone, "Are you sure you're talking about my students?" You laugh and say, "Seriously. They were great." Laura pauses for a moment before replying, "That's good...I have to go now, take care, Y/N."

You bid Laura farewell and promise to keep her updated on any future classroom developments. Tara speaks up when you set down your phone, "Was that Professor Crane?" You nod and say, "Yes, it was. She was just checking in on you guys."

Tara nods, taking a sip of her now slightly cooled-down coffee. "I'm going to take a shower, and I'll be back in a bit. Let me know whenever you're ready to leave."

"Wait, uh, do you know where my phone is?" Tara asks, glancing around the room. You remember plugging it up near the kitchen counter when you arrived home yesterday.

You point towards the kitchen counter and say, "I think it's over there, by the sink." Tara thanks you and heads towards the kitchen to retrieve it, but her head turns as she watches you leave the room, pulling your tank top over your head, revealing your toned back.

Blushing slightly, Tara quickly averts her gaze and focuses on finding her phone.

When Tara finally finds her phone, she realizes that she has missed several calls and messages, mostly from Sam.

But her heart truly drops when she realizes your name is at the top of her messages, remembering that she did indeed text you drunk the previous night.

Tara's mind races as she tries to recall what she said, hoping she hasn't embarrassed herself or said anything inappropriate. "You've got to be kidding me."

Tara mutters under her breath, scrolling through her messages with you. This was so embarrassing, and she couldn't believe she had let herself get so out of control.

"The hot professor whose filling in for Ms.Crane? What the fuck?" Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she reads her own words. She had confessed her attraction to her substitute professor, not realizing how much she had revealed in her drunken state. Panic sets in as she wonders what your reaction to the message might have been.

Tara's phone dings, indicating a new message.

Mindy: Tara where the hell r u?

Mindy:  Sam is literally is losing her marbles

Shit.

Tara: im about to leave in about 15 minutes

Mindy: that didn't answer my question lollll

Tara: just tell sam im on the way

Mindy: omg you're at professor y/ln's house

Tara's heart races as she reads Mindy's message. How did Mindy know she was at your house? She quickly types a response, trying to come up with something to get Mindy off her back. 

Tara: wtf? no?

Tara: ill ttyl

-

The next couple of months consisted of Tara staying back after every lecture to talk to you. Now, you didn't exactly mind, but it did make you wonder why she was suddenly so interested in your company. Tara wouldn't talk about her studies, rather, she would ask you about your personal life, your hobbies, and your opinions on various topics.

Or whenever you'd be leaving campus or just arriving, Tara would leave her friends, jog over to you, and strike up a conversation. It seemed like she always found a reason to be near you, whether it was wanting to walk together or simply to share a funny story. Her genuine interest in getting to know you better was both flattering and intriguing.

"That's all for today, guys." You tell the class, packing up your things. Everyone begins leaving—well, everyone except for Tara. You shuffle your papers together, double-checking that you have everything, before looking up to find Tara still standing by your desk.

"Did you watch The Hereditary?" She had mentioned the movie a few times before, and you could tell she really wanted you to watch it. You smile and reply, "Yes, I did! Scared the shit out of me."

Tara laughs, "I thought you said you liked scary movies?" You begin walking toward the door. "I do!"

"What's your favorite scary movie?" Tara asks, genuinely curious. You pause for a moment, thinking of all the horror films you've seen over the years. "Hmm, that's a tough one," you say, pondering. "Maybe Chucky."

"You're joking," Tara says, raising an eyebrow. "Chucky? The killer doll? That's more of a cheesy horror movie than a scary one." You shrug and defend your choice. "Well, it scared me when I was younger. Plus, it has that nostalgic factor for me."

Tara chuckles and shakes her head playfully, saying, "Alright, if you say so. But I'll have to introduce you to some truly terrifying films one day."

You smile, holding the door open for the shorter girl. "Sure, T." Tara ignores the fluttering in her stomach at the nickname, striking up another conversation. "You heading home?"

You nod and reply, "Yeah, I was planning on making this salmon dish I found a recipe for. The sauce is supposed to be really flavorful, and I've been craving seafood lately." Tara hums, "Sounds fun."

You pause your walk, making eye contact with your student. "Maybe you could come...?"

Tara's eyes widen with surprise, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "That sounds like a plan," she says, "What time?"

You check your watch and say, "How about around 7 p.m.? That should give me enough time to prepare everything." Tara nods eagerly, "Okay." You thank her and continue walking, "See you, T."

-

You were more than tipsy, this might have been the most fun you've had in a while. "I feel like a bad influence." You joke to Tara, pouring her another glass of wine. Tara laughs, "You're a perfect influence. You know how to have a good time."

You shake your head, standing up. "You can sit in the living room, I'm just gonna clear the table." Tara smiles and takes a sip of her wine. "Don't worry about it, I'll help you clean up."

Tara sets down her glass, standing up and helping you gather the dirty dishes and leftover food. Everything about this feels so domestic like you two are a married couple tidying up after a dinner party.

You start washing the dishes while Tara dries them and puts them away. The conversation flows effortlessly, making the task feel less like a chore and more like a shared experience.

On the last plate, you splash some soapy water onto Tara's shirt, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. "Oops, sorry about that!" you jokingly apologize, grinning mischievously.

Tara playfully flicks some water back at you, making you let out a laugh. "Oh, it's on now!" you exclaim, grabbing a nearby dish towel and flicking it towards Tara.

Tara runs out of the kitchen, laughing and dodging the dish towel, her wet shirt clinging to her as she goes. You turn off the water and chase after her, determined to catch her. While you reach the living room, Tara takes a sharp turn, causing you to stumble for a moment.

You quickly regain your balance and continue the chase, both of you enjoying the playful pursuit.

"I give up!" Tara calls out, breathless and giggling, as she collapses onto the couch. You slow down and join her, catching your breath and collapsing beside her.

You glance at her shirt, "Do you want one of my shirts?" Tara looks down at her damp shirt and shakes her head, still catching her breath. "No, I think I'll be fine," she replies with a smile.

Your eyes fall back on Tara, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly disheveled from the chase. You know you shouldn't be thinking about your student in this way, but it's hard to ignore the undeniable chemistry between you. And she was absolutely gorgeous.

You're caught up in your thoughts, you don't even notice how your body is subconsciously scooting closer to her, until your knees are almost touching. The air between you feels charged with tension, and you can't help but wonder if she feels it too.

A part of you wants to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but professional boundaries hold you back.

Tara turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you both share a knowing smile. Fuck, why did she have to look at you like that?

The intensity of the moment lingers, making it difficult to focus on anything else. You find yourself questioning the consequences of acting on this undeniable connection.

Tara leans in, and you follow behind slowly. You don't notice what you're doing until your noses brush against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

Tara parts her lips slightly, her warm breath tickling your skin. You place a hand on her leg, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a passionate and electrifying kiss, leaving you breathless and craving more.

You place your hand on Tara's waist, pulling her closer to you and allowing her to straddle you. Tara can't help but respond, her hands finding their way to your hair as she pulls you in even closer.

When you pull away, your heart is racing as if you had just run a marathon. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but in that moment, it felt so right. The chemistry between you and Tara was undeniable, and the desire for each other was too strong to resist.

Your hand rises to Tara's face, your thumb tracing over her soft, plump lips. She closes her eyes, and a moan escapes her mouth. You kiss her lightly, your tongue tracing the outline of her mouth. She responds with a slow, passionate kiss, her lips trembling as you pull away.

"Please," she mumbles, grinding her hips against yours. "Fuck, T." What was this girl doing to you? Without hesitation, you capture her lips once more, this time with an electrifying fervor that leaves you both breathless. In that moment, you knew that there was no going back, you were stuck under her spell.

Your hands slither under her shirt, exploring the curves of her body, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. She moans softly, encouraging you to continue your exploration, and you do.

Skillfully, you unclasp her bra, and your fingers trace the outline of her breasts, teasing and caressing every inch of her sensitive skin. She arches her back, pressing herself closer to you, craving more of your touch.

You lift her shirt, revealing her bare chest, and your lips eagerly find their way to her exposed skin. The taste of her drives you wild, and you lose yourself in the moment, savoring every sweet and intoxicating sensation.

Your hands fly back to her waist, lifting her slightly as your lips trail to her stomach, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the way.

She lets out a soft moan, her fingers tangling in your hair as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her body. Tara's breath hitches when you stand up, picking her up with ease. You carry her effortlessly to the bedroom, her legs wrapped around your waist, her body pressed against yours.

One thing is, you don't make it to the bed. Tara's back is now pressed against a wall, her heart pounding in her chest. You lean in closer, capturing her lips with yours as your hands roam over her body. You couldn't get enough.

You flip Tara, pressing her against the wall with a newfound intensity. Tara gasp, her eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling your strong grip on her hips and your lips trailing down her neck.

Your hands trail to her jeans button, fumbling to undo it as the passion between you increases. Tara's breath hitches as you slide down her pants, along with her underwear, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.

Without hesitating, you drop to your knees, eager to taste her. A loud slap is heard, followed by a gasp of surprise. Tara bites down on her lip, balling up her fist against the wall, feeling you spread her legs for better access.

You lean in closer, your tongue teasing her entrance as Tara's moans fill the room. Oh, shit. You were officially addicted to this girl. Every touch and every sound she made only fueled your obsession for her.

You couldn't get enough of the way she responded to your touch, her body arching and trembling with pleasure. Or the way she tasted, leaving a permanent mark on your tongue.

"Fuck..." Tara gasps, the side of her face flat against the wall as her hips buck against your mouth. You remove one of your hands from her ass, holding her hips steady as you continue to devour her.

Tara whines in response, reaching behind to tangle her fingers in your hair, urging you to keep going. Her moans grow louder, and her grip tightens. "I'm so close, shit..."

You intensify your movements, your tongue skillfully exploring every inch of her, pushing her closer to the edge. Tara's breath becomes ragged, you grip her with greater force, and she becomes more and more undone, on the brink of exploding in pleasure.

And just as she's about to tip over the edge, she lets out a guttural cry, her body convulsing in ecstasy.

"Y/N! Shit!"

You stand up, and Tara catches her breath, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm.

While Tara attempts to compose herself, you unbuckle your belt and slowly remove your pants and underwear, revealing your own heightened state of arousal.

Tara's eyes widen when she feels your intense desire pressing against her. You press a kiss onto her head, whispering, "I need you, Tara."

Tara turns her head, meeting you with a lustful gaze. Her lips parted slightly as she whispers, "I want you too, Y/N." You place a soft kiss on the freckled face that you've come to adore before taking yourself, rubbing against her in a slow, teasing motion.

Tara's wetness lubricates you, allowing you to slip right in with a breathful gasp. As you enter her, Tara arches her back and lets out a low moan, her body responding eagerly to your touch.

The feeling of her tightness around you heightens the nirvana, driving you both insane.

You pick up the pace, your hips meeting hers in a delicious rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies—a symphony of desire and passion.

Tara's arm reaches around, her nails dig into your neck while her moans grow louder and more desperate with every movement.

Tara's hand falls back against the wall as she braces herself against the overwhelming pleasure. Your own hand falls on top of hers, and for a second, Tara finds herself caught between the intensified sensations and the tender touch of your hand.

She exhales a breath of pleasure, and her eyes roll back in pleasure. You lean in to kiss her neck, and she moans in response. You move your lips down to her shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses along her skin. "You feel so good, T." You groan, your voice thick with please.

This time, without warning, Tara lets go, a long and loud moan escaping her lips as she arches her back in ecstasy.

She collapses against your chest, her eyes half closed, catching her breath as her body trembles with satisfaction. You hold her tightly, savoring the intimate moment shared between you both.

As you slowly untangle yourselves from the intimate embrace, Tara wraps her arms around your neck and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

You smile into it, placing a hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. The lingering taste of her lips lingers on yours, igniting a drive for more.

Tara moves onto her knees with your help, never breaking eye contact. Her hand wraps around your pulsating shaft before she kisses the tip, her tongue swirling around it.

The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you moan softly. You grab Tara's hair, guiding her movements as she takes you deeper into her mouth. "That feels great, shit..." you mutter, throwing your head back.

Tara's expert tongue continues to work its wonders, teasing and exploring every inch of you.

You begin moving your hips in rhythm with Tara's movements, finding a steady and pleasurable pace.

The hallway fills with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the wet, persistent slurping of Tara's mouth. "Yeah...just like that, Tara."

Your grip on her hair tightens, urging her on as she eagerly takes you deeper, her eyes watering at the sensation. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.

Tara can't help but think about how this night will shift your relationship. She wonders if this newfound intimacy will bring you closer or create complications that she didn't want to deal with. As you catch your breath, Tara's thoughts wander to the potential consequences of crossing this line.

[lizzyus]

Death Doesn't Exists

ㅤ

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 Everybody knows that when you die, your body dies. But, what's after that? Is there a heaven? Is there a god? Or it's just... nothing?

this was a personal theory, until yesterday I read a post of "Reyna" in shiftok (I love her).

˙⋆✮ Well, if you're part of shifting community or manifesting community you may know the concept "I am state / void state". If you don't know what it is, there you go:

The "I am state / Void state" Is the state where you're pure consciousness. Your body it's not you, your consciousness is. So it's basically you in pure consciousness and the state where you're god, where you can manifest anything instantly or shift instantly. The void state feels peaceful, like you're in a very calm lake, floating. You also won't feel your body, and you won't experience 3D/CR (this world) emotions. Like fear, anger, doubts, etc. Just pure calm.

What do I wanna say with this? Well...

As I said before, when you die, your body does, not YOU (your consciousness). Cause it's basically impossible for it to just disappear or die. You can access the void state when leaving your body and letting go the 3D world. So, guess what is probably happen when you die. Yes, you enter the void state.

As I explained, void state is basically you in your most pure form. And you may be asking "then how does it look?" "What's inside the void?" "What's gonna happen?" or stuff like that. I'll try to answer some of those.

˙⋆✮ . "What does it look like?"

The void state it's called void state for something, right? So it's basically a void, nothing. BUT, you can choose how would it look. Maybe stars, a galaxy, a bright or dark void, a whole planet, etc. Whatever you want. It will look exactly how you thought it would.

˙⋆✮ . "What happens next?"

You can choose what happens next. As I said before, the void state is basically your god form where you can manifest anything instantly or shift instantly. So you can manifest your void and what happens after.

If you believe in reborn, you'll reborn as someone. If you believe in heaven and think you deserve to go to heaven, then it will happen. If you believe you deserve going to hell, then a hell will be created. If you believe in shifting, you'll probably choose a whole new reality to live. It's gonna happen whatever you choose. It's limitless.

So, basically... when you die, you enter the void state.

this info made me realize that there's nothing to fear. If you mind the pain before dying, I believe you leave your body before experiencing the pain, so you avoid it. You'll watch your body outside, like you're watching a movie and then enter void.

So, there's nothing to fear. You can live the same life you once lived if you decide to, as if it's a second chance. This is why I think death it's a need, where you recognise your power, your eternity, and who you are.

There's is nothing to fear, live freely.

I've learned some of this topic from Reyna in tiktok, so all the credits to her. But I wanted to share this with my words, beliefs, and perception. Also, thanks to her for actually proofing my theory, it's not like she knew I had one, but her info cleared my mind so well.

happy shifting! <3

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[gremlin-girly]

Late Night

Pairing: Bucky x gn!reader (with one use of "doll")

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, mutual pining, Bucky crushing on you HARD, sleepy reader (again), friends to lovers, pet names (doll and sweetheart), a hint of angst bc of past trauma, mentions of past trauma (winter soldier), cuddling

Summary: After another late night at work, you refuse to let Bucky down and insist on still coming over to watch the movie you've both been trying to arrange a viewing of for the last few weeks. However, five minutes in you find yourself falling asleep...

Word count: 689

Not beta'd. Written this morning. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted or fed into an AI machine.

A/N: I thought of this a while ago. Am I procrastinating the final installment? Yes. 🫠 I spent two hours editing it yesterday and have found something I don't like and want changed 🙃 oh well.... it should be out by the end of this week sorry Mel

And in typical Friday the 13th fashion i have slept 4hrs, forgot to book my taxi and there's a spider currently scuttling the floor and harassing me. Please send assistance 🥲- Love, Grem x

Masterlist | Busy Morning w/ Steve | The Bucky Barnes Collection

It's said that when animals feel safe around you, they fall asleep near you. Although Bucky wasn't surprised you'd fallen asleep (you'd been working so late recently it was understandable), he was surprised when your head hit his shoulder and even more surprised when you nuzzled against him.

His heart jackhammered painfully in his chest as he tried to control his breathing. He glanced down to where you'd taken residence against him, your soft cheeks pillowing you from the hard muscles in his shoulder. God, you looked perfect even when you slept.

Bucky's heart strings seized as he smiled down at your sleeping form. You felt safe around him. The Winter Soldier had killed so many people and had been a danger to everyone. Everyone was, at least in Bucky's mind, rightfully fearful of him or at least worried about him "snapping".

Everyone but you, it seemed.

When he'd first met you, you'd greeted him with a warm smile and a quick handshake. You didn't even bat an eyelid when you'd grabbed his left hand (the metal hand, the killing hand) and continued blabbering about welcoming him to S.H.I.E.L.D officially. He knew you'd be different from that moment but he didn't realise just how different.

Your sleepiness and lack of sleep was relatable to Bucky; nightmares, nightterrors and nighttime anxiety attacks had plagued him for months. You'd shared tips with him and whilst they weren't entirely helpful at times, there was a comfort there. You were someone he could speak to freely. In fact, he hadn't even told you about the nightmare nor had you asked. One morning at the compound, making coffee in the kitchen you'd only said, "trouble sleeping? I get the feeling. Apparently cherry juice helps."

He'd playfully joked back asking if he looked that bad and you'd grinned at him saying that he was still pretty to you.

It was the first time anyone had called him pretty.

How and when he fell for you he couldn't pin point. Maybe it was that first encounter, maybe it was when you called him pretty or maybe it was ten seconds ago when you fell asleep next to him, blissfully unaware at how you somehow managed to always turn his brain to mush.

"Doll?" Bucky murmurs, nudging your pudgy cheek with his shoulder and biting back a smile when you frown at him with your eyes closed. "The opening credits have barely started and you're falling asleep."

"Hmm? Hmm." You may have been willfully ignoring Bucky in favour of sleep but the facts remained that he was warm, cosy and smelled ridiculously good. Any excuse to stay asleep like this was an excuse worth using.

Bucky sighs and flicks the TV off, scooping you gently into his arms. You make one weak sound of protest but otherwise limply fall against him.

"I'm putting you to bed." He tells you, carrying you into his room and gently setting you onto the bed.

"'M not tired." You mumble curling into his covers as he tucks you in. Your surrounded by the smell of Bucky and the all too familiar fuzzy feeling warms your chest.

"Yeah, you are." Bucky chuckles softly. "Get some sleep. We can watch the movie tomorrow."

As he moves to leave, he hears your whispered request and he pauses.

"Stay with me?"

"Uh...." Bucky swallows. What he wouldn't give to stay next to you but you're sleep-addled brain is the one making the request.

"Please?" You mumble into the covers. "You're so warm. I feel so safe with you near me."

The bed dips as Bucky concedes to your request instantly but he doesn't dare touch you, no, not until you turn until him and snuggle against his chest and grumble a sleepy goodnight does he drape his arm around you and hold you close.

It takes a while for him to fall asleep, his mind racing with thoughts of you and what it meant that you felt safe enough to sleep in his bed with him in it. But when he does finally drift, it's the best night's sleep he's had in a long while.

[lailols]

Kai’s Pretty Girlfriend [4]: Confusion?

OT5 x f!reader

Warnings: lots of kisses and a little dry humping <3

Ever since the game things have been pretty tense in the dorm. Well, maybe tense isn’t the right word but awkward? Not between you and Kai, never between you and Kai, but there’s definitely a difference in the way the guys treat you.

It’s not even spoken about and if you hadn’t known them all for so long, maybe you wouldn’t have realized. But you can tell. It’s almost as if when they’re with you they default to their ‘idol’ personalities.

You feel it when you visit the practice room to drop off food on a long day and while Kai greets you with a hug and a kiss, the guys simply thank you and disperse to eat.

You feel it when you’re watching anime with Soobin in the living room instead of his room and rather than you leaning against each other and borderline falling asleep on top of the other, he keeps a large distance between the two of you.

You feel it when you’re talking with Beomgyu and instead of having conversations that range from deep and intense to silly and random, he keeps it surface level before he makes an excuse to leave.

You feel it when you stay up late to make sure Taehyun eats when he makes it to the dorm after he stays to practice more, and he politely thanks you but tells you he already ate and then you wake up to him sneaking out of the room later to go eat.

You feel it when your messages with Yeonjun go from being filled with silly pictures, and videos of some new choreography he’s come up with to read messages and reactions rather than actual responses.

You especially feel it when you come into the dorm when Kai is out to wait for him to get back and sit in the living room to watch whatever’s on and everyone scatters suddenly having other things to do. Or when everyone starts eating out of the dorm instead of begging you to cook or ordering takeout. Or when… yeah, it’s been a lot.

It’s not hard for you and Kai to make a plan to corner the guys and address the tension that’s settled over you all. It took a bit of convincing from Kai because you’re, admittedly, feeling a little rejected. What else are you meant to feel when they go from having you in an intimate way to flat-out ignoring you?

It's a perfect reflection of the talk they gave you and Kai after the movie incident. You and Kai standing in front of them while they're sitting on the couch.

"You guys have been avoiding me."

"No, we haven't. We literally had dinner together yesterday." Beomgyu is right but the dinner was shrouded in silence with them leaving immediately after they finished eating.

"It wasn't the same as it used to be, and you know it." You take a breath before continuing. "Listen, if we... If I made you guys uncomfortable, I'm truly sorry. We don't have to do anything like that again, I just want us to be good again."

"There wasn't anything wrong with what we did. We're just... confused." Taehyun's words are accompanied by his brows furrowing as if he's trying to figure out the answer to a problem. You would probably consider it cute in another situation.

"Confused about what?"

"What you want from this. What you both want from this. Even if we didn't do much, you can't expect us to act as if nothing changed when something did."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Was it just a one-off thing? Are you guys experimenting or something? You went from begging us to leave the dorm for you to have alone time or doing things quietly to fucking in front of us and letting us participate. It's a big change and while we were okay with it, we don't want to push boundaries."

You expect Kai to answer, but he turns to you first.

"Well, I guess experimenting is the best way to put it.”

“So, Kai wants to watch us fuck you?”

“No!” Kai exclaims in answer to Beomgyu's question but then continues in a softer voice with red crawling up his face. “Well, maybe, at some point. But what I mean is, I don’t mind if you want to do that or anything really.”

“Anything like?”

“Anything that y/n is comfortable with. Actually, she should really lead this." All eyes turn to you.

"Um, like Kai said we're okay with me being more intimate with you all if you're okay with that."

“Why?” Taehyun asks, and, really, why does anyone do anything? You don't need to do this with them. You and Kai are as close to perfect as you can be. You shouldn't need to seek anything else, but you are. Is that so bad? Is it selfish? Probably. But you want it and you think they might want it too, so it can't be that bad.

"We don't really have a reason. Just a feeling and we wanted to try it out with you."

“So you guys have an open relationship?”

“No!” Both of you exclaim.

“No, not that there’s anything wrong with that but, ugh, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with y/n the way I do with you guys. So, maybe, but not with anyone else. If that makes sense.”

"It doesn't, but I think we get the gist. What do you want exactly from us?" Soobin asks, and though you've never seen him in the setting yourself, you imagine it's similar to when he's in meetings speaking on behalf of his members. Making sure he knows what's expected so he can make a decision that doesn't make the group fall apart. And, really, this is one of those decisions.

“I want us to be close like we were. And maybe more? It feels kind of selfish but you guys are all so good to me, why wouldn’t I want to be doted on by you?”

“So we get to have you?” Beomgyu's getting excited, shifting forward in his seat.

“Yes, if that’s okay with you all.”

“All of us?”

“Yes. Or no? If any of you don’t want to, you don’t have to, obviously, but I’m okay with it. With you. All of you.”

“Oh.” It’s quiet until the four form a circle and start playing rock, paper, scissors.

“Um…” you and Kai stare awkwardly at them. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing who gets to kiss you first, duh. Use that big brain of yours. Go ahead and prepare yourself.”

“Wait! I want to play, what the hell?!” Kai cries indignantly.

“You get to kiss her all the time, suck it up. Shit. Do you see what you caused?” Beomgyu is out.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” There goes Soobin.

It’s a war of nerves between Taehyun and Yeonjun. They don’t even notice Kai turning you to him and planting a kiss on your lips until a moan leaves you when he bites on your bottom lip.

“Hey! No! That’s cheating!” Beomgyu’s words startle Taehyun out of his thinking and Yeonjun ends up winning the round, jumping up and letting out a screech of victory before pulling you out of Kai’s arms.

“So, you come here often?” Yeonjun brings a hand out to tilt your head up at him with the other making a home on your waist.

You let out a giggle before playing along, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Sometimes, I haven’t seen you around before though.”

“Well, this may come as a surprise to you, but I do in fact live here.” He’s steadily closing the distance between your faces as he speaks.

“Are you sure?” You tilt your head up until your lips are barely touching. “I swear I would’ve remembered a face as pretty as yours.”

You cut off his screech of ‘you stole my line’ by pressing your lips to his. He freezes for a bit before relaxing and returning the kiss. His lips are soft and plump and taste faintly like a strawberry chapstick you're sure you lost a while back. He squeezes your waist once, twice, before rubbing his tongue gently against your lips to get you to open up for him, which you obviously do.

He pulls you impossibly closer to him and deepens the kiss before a different set of hands wraps around your body and pulls you away.

"Hey! Keep it in your pants, old man! We still haven't gotten to kiss her yet." Beomgyu is holding you against his chest as he shouts.

"I won! I can do whatever I want. It doesn't seem like y/n was complaining about it either!"

"Well, she couldn't with your tongue two miles down her throat," Taehyun interjects smoothly before taking your hand and pulling you away from Beomgyu. He gives you a soft smile before bringing a hand up to your face and caressing your cheek. "This okay?"

"Yes. It's okay, I'm okay." A bright smile rises on his face in response to your words and he brings your lips together in a short, but sweet kiss that leaves you wanting more. You can’t help but lean into him again. He smiles into your next kiss and his free hand moves down to your hip giving it a short squeeze before pulling away. This time he uses the grip he has on you to keep you separated but the look in his eyes is so warm that you don’t doubt you’ll find yourselves in a similar situation soon.

Taehyun has always been a bit reserved with his relationships, wanting them to be known but kept private. Though your situation isn’t anything like that, it makes sense he would want to fall into you away from the prying eyes. You look around for Soobin to see him still sitting on the couch.

“Yah! Choi Soobin don’t make her chase you!”

“I’m not! I just want her to be comfortable. Four first kisses is a lot in one night.”

“Thank you for wanting to make me comfortable, Bin.” You say as you slowly walk over to where he is on the couch, hesitating a bit before straddling his lap. “But I want to kiss you now, is that okay?”

“Yeah, yep. Totally! So okay with me it’s actually insane.” He finishes with a soft smile that is so cute, you can’t help but indulge yourself a little. Leaning down to press a short kiss to each of his dimples and nose before bringing your lips to his. He sighs softly and moves his hands up to your waist, drawing little circles with his thumbs.

You know that this is meant to be a small kiss, something of a marker of the new relationship you’re stepping into with the guys, but the implications of that new relationship are finally catching up with you. Maybe you should've pulled him off the couch to kiss him because this can quickly get out of control. Especially with the way he puts his all into the kiss. The way he’s not even trying to dominate the kiss but going with the flow whether that means you’re leading or him. You can’t help but shift your hips down to meet his. And, oh, the sounds that leave him after that make you want to drag him to your (Kai’s) room and see what other sounds he could make. But you forgot about the people watching.

“As hot as this is, I would like to kiss y/n before I turn fifty.” And with that, a familiar set of hands are wrapping around your waist in an attempt to pull you off Soobin. Too bad, Soobin doesn’t seem to want to let go. Just as you’re starting to wonder how far he’s willing to go with the others as an audience, he pulls away and presses a last peck to your lips before taking his hands off you.

“Hey, you.” Beimgyu says after wrapping your securely in his embrace.

“Hey.” You smile up at him.

“Ready for the best kiss of your life?” Kai lets out a prompt ‘Hey!’ at his words.

“You can try your best.” You challenge.

Rather than responding to your words, he just cradles your face and presses your lips together. It feels like something clicked into place in your mind. There's no doubt in your mind that there is nowhere else you should be than right here surrounded by these five men.

Beomgyu's thumbs rub back and forth across your cheeks as your lips move in tandem. Against your expectations, he does not try to deepen it more than this. He just kisses you as if he has all the time in the world.

When you pull away from Beomgyu, you look around to find five fond smiles turned towards you. You don’t really know where this is going to lead but you trust these men so fully that you know they’ll treat you right. You only hope your heart can handle it.

Step four is “completed”, yippie! I don’t really like this chapter so if you see it updated at some point, mind your business. >:(. If it’s unclear, you and Kai had a talk off-screen about what you wanted. Now we get into the member specific chapters! Guess which member goes with which description! Masterlist

[polly-pocket13]

pretty glittery girly movie

paring: katsuki bakugou x reader warnings: cursing, bad gramma a/n: please enjoy it

“Why is she here?,” Bakugou asked his friend Kirishima. 

He replied, “She is here because I invited her.”

““She” has a name and “she” can speak for herself.”, you said annoyed.

Bakugou responded with a “Tsk”.

“Kacchan, be kind to Y/N. When Y/N and I spoke yesterday, she mentioned that she was interested in seeing the movie we had in mind for today. So I invited her to watch the movie with us.”, Kirishima explained to Bakugou.

You couldn't speak for yourself again. You were aware that Kirishima was just trying to be kind, but you hate when someone talks for you.

“We're watching a horror film and not some pretty glittery girly movie, you know.” Bakugou told you. 

You said angrily, “I know we're watching a scary movie, Jerk.”

“Jerk? This all you got? This is cute, little wallflower.”, he spoked and smiled for a brief moment.

He can't be serious right now.

Why is he like that?

Why does he always have to bully me?

But did he smile before?

Jesus.

Smiling makes him even more handsome.

“Kacchan, I told you to be kind. Y/N is my friend. Let's go inside the movie should start soon.” Kirishima said.

We went in and bought tickets and snacks. Kirishima suddenly received a call and went outside. “Are you coming with me to the hall, or will you wait for Kirishima?” you asked Bakugou. “I wait.” he replied short. You simply nod, walk in the hall and sit down. 

Bakugou walked in just before the movie started, and sat next to you. You asked him, “Where is Kirishima?” 

“Private Emergency. He went to his mom to help her with something.” he answered you.

Amazing.

Now you're watching a movie with Bakugou alone.

This is going to be quite something.

You exhaled deeply.

The movie began, and you focused your attention on the cinema screen.  

After a half hour and at least 5 jump scares, you were scared as hell.

As a reflex, you grabbed Bakugous Hand and simply squished.

After recognizing your actions, you attempted to remove your hand; however, you were unable to do so because Bokugou held on to your hand.

He came closer to your ear and whispered, “I told you this not a pretty glittery girly movie. But I can protect you if you ask me nicely”. 

You shook his hand away. “I know that this is a horror movie. I am not scared, and I don't need your protection.” you whispered back and focused your eyes on the screen again. 

Thank god he didn't see how you blushed.

You really tried to watch the movie without making any signs that you are freaking out because you are so scared. Nevertheless, he noticed.

Bakugou raised the armrest between your seats and put his arm around you. He pulled you closer to him.

Before you could move away from him, a pretty bad jump scare was shown, and you hid your face behind his shoulder.

You could smell his scent, he has an incredible one. 

“Thank you.”, you mumbled.

“Your welcome, stubborn wallflower.” he whispered.  

You were snuggled against him until the movie end.

After the movie, you walked out and there was awkward silence. Your cheeks  were still blushed. You cleared your throat and said, “Thank you for keeping me safe from those scary nuns.”

“Like I said before, you're welcome. But you should make it up to me.” he told you.

“Make it up? How should I make it up?” you asked confused.

He looked in your eyes as he said, “Go on a date with me.”

Your heart began to beat faster, and you blushed even more. 

“Well, I guess I can't say no” you told him with a smile. 

He smirked and said, “No. No, you can't.”