#got frightened by a passing car and had to run back to hide in the bushes

[grimark]

my cat gets SO pissed off at me for following her around on her little outside jaunts and rousing at her when she tries to wander off. baby girl i am trying to protect you from being eaten by a carpet python.

[krysalla]

hide me from the cleaver, i'll hang with you forever! - ii

thomas hewitt x fat f!reader

read on ao3

part one

word count: 4.9k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, kidnapping, implied necrophilia, violence, forced cannibalism, vomit eating, hoyt is an asshole and terrorizing reader just because he can, reader is NOT having a fun time

Family dinner and a first encounter.

Fuller, Texas. You look down at the map you picked up at a gas station in Austin, just a shitty state map you got even though David insisted all he had to do was follow the signs on the highway. You trace your route from Austin. You can’t find Fuller on the map. It could be a ghost town for all you know, just like those old mining towns back home that collapsed into ruin under the weight of financial problems. Of course, that would be just your luck, lost in the middle of Texas in the dead of summer with a dwindling supply of gas. You scratch at your forearm. Not a single car has passed by you or been trailing behind you. The last car you saw was nearly an hour ago. If David was going the speed limit, that’s got to be at least fifty miles. You draw a thin line of blood and hiss. Fifty miles to walk in one direction, and who knows how long in the other.

Anna is looking at the fuel gauge every thirty seconds, biting at her nails the closer and closer it gets to empty. David is white knuckling the steering wheel. Lucy and Bobby have gone quiet, their antics having earned them a harsh reprimand by David. No one dares to peek, frightened of David’s ire and the situation you find yourselves in.

“Thank god!” David exclaims.

You shift in your seat and look out the window. Up ahead, like a little oasis in the desert, is a gas station. It can’t be more than a mile away. That won’t be nearly so bad a walk if the van shits out on you now. You can handle walking a mile one way to get there and another mile back to haul back gas. 

The van comes to a spluttering stop about a quarter of a mile away. The walk will do some good after being cooped up this long.

“You got a gas can?” Bobby asks, sliding the door open.

“Nah, man.”

“Alright. Anyone coming with?”

Lucy immediately throws her hand up in the air with a giggly smile and bright eyes.

“I’ll come too.” You push yourself off the seat and shuffle through the small pathway that spits you out to the door.

The breeze feels nice after the air that sits stagnant in the van. The trees rustle above you, barely enough leaves on them to shade you, but it’s a welcome reprieve. You can’t wait to get through Texas–the state stretches on for ages, and though it’s only your second day driving through it, it’s still too much.

It doesn’t take more than two or three minutes to reach the gas station and by that time you’re already soaked in sweat. Your hair sticks to your face, your shirt to your chest. You glance, as subtle as you can, to Bobby and Lucy walking hand in hand. You look for any evidence that they’ve been sweating too. You relax a little when you see the shine on their skin and the dampness on their shirts. It’s always embarrassing when you’re the only one that sweats. It gives them another thing to rib you about.

Now that you're standing right out front, you are having serious doubts about this place–it’s so run down, peeled paint and dusty windows and rusted over gas pumps. It’s dark inside, as if it’s not inhabited. You don’t want to be the one that says anything negative and bring down everyone’s high hopes, but you see that they are thinking the same thing. Lucy is grinding her heels in the dirt and pursing her lips, just waiting to say something cruel and out of proportion with the situation, though you may give her a little leeway considering. Bobby is red in the face and arms crossed over his chest.

Bobby is the first to speak, “Think anyone’s in there?”

-

Hoyt hauls you up by your upper arm and angles himself to get right in your face, close enough that you can smell beer and tobacco on his breath, he parts his lips and reveals his dip stained smile. You wrinkle your nose up at him, squirming in his grasp, you don’t want to know what kind of punishment he has in store for you, what merciless words he has. You work your jaw and spit at him.

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

Hoyt wipes at his face and you see his eyes change, steeling themselves as his grin turns into a snarl. His grip on your arm tightens and he wraps his other hand in your hair, he tugs you with such a force that you fall back on onto your knees. You cry out when you hit the floor. Tommy watches it all play out, hand still gripping the cleaver, a puddle of blood forming around his boots. 

“Made me lose the only pussy I’ve had in a month, you know what that kind of a dry spell can do to a man?” He yanks you by your hair and manages to pull a few strands out from your head. “Gonna make that up to me, huh?”

That’s where Tommy decides to interject. His free hand wraps around Hoyt’s wrist, the one that’s holding onto your hair. He snorts, chest heaving, and pulls Hoyt’s hand free, taking out more hair along with it. You sob and clutch at your head, bowing down in supplication to the two men above you.

“Please, ‘m sorry!” You reach out for Tommy, hoping whatever stayed his hand last night will emerge and grant you clemency, fingers curl into his pant leg and you drag yourself to him to lay your forehead against his strong thigh. His pants grow damp from your tears and saliva, unable to control your wailing. Gone is the girl from last night, strong enough to confront the beast, now that you have some hope of life, you can’t help but try to make it out of here alive. “Tommy, please.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name and he whips his head to look at you. His breath comes out as a whistle from the nostrils of his mask, eyes softening as he looks down at you.

You go slack against him when you feel him pat the top of your head and his thumb tenderly pressing the wrinkle out from between your eyebrows. He offers you his hand. You take it. It feels like you’re making a deal with the devil.

“Don’t think I won’t get mine, girl,” Hoyt mutters. “Both of you get the hell out.”

You cry silently, looking over your shoulder at Lucy’s spent body. No one should be treated that way. You’ve pushed your luck enough. Hoyt crawls over her, unbuckling his belt as Tommy herds you out of that room and back to the beginning. 

You hate him.

He ties your wrists to the headboard with an old scarf. He binds them together and lays you on your side. He slips a finger between your flesh and the scarf, tugging once to test the strength of the knot he tied. Whatever freedom Tommy and his family had cautiously trusted you with is revoked. 

He doesn’t leave, just sits beside you and wipes away your tears with a reverent touch. It makes you cry harder.

-

You’re untied the next morning by the old woman. She peers down at you over her cat eye glasses, examining you for something. Her thin lips are drawn tight and her skin sallow. You think she may have been beautiful once. 

“Up you get. Breakfast is on the table.”

Your arms ache, the sensation of pins and needles running all the way from your shoulders to the tips of your fingers. The skin around your wrists is tender where the rough fabric of the scarf chaffed your skin and rubbed you raw until it felt like your nerve endings have been exposed to the air. The woman waits at the threshold of the door, staring at you with impatience. You scurry to follow her, not willing to piss off another person in the house.

You pointedly ignore the front door as you pass it and lead back to the dining room. Blood stained the lace of the table cloth and you can see some chunks of Anna that haven’t been cleaned up splashed across the wall. The blood has been allowed to dry up on every surface, nobody bothered to clean it.

There was a large spread on the table, but it seems you’re the last one to get the notice for breakfast. Plates and baskets are empty. A few leftover forkfuls of scrambled eggs and half a biscuit is all that’s left. The woman follows your gaze.

“Breakfast is at six. If you miss it, you get whatever's left. There ain’t nothin’ left, you don’t get breakfast.”

“What time is it?” your voice cracks.

“Quarter to ten.”

“What… What am I doing here?”

“Tommy likes you,” she says simply, like that's a good enough answer. “Sit down, eat what you can.”

You don’t want to eat but your stomach growls and rumbles, cramping up from the lack of food, you’re hungry but you’re too sick to eat. She waits. You scoop what’s left of the eggs onto a plate and take the half eaten biscuit. The eggs are cold and the biscuit is hard and dry without any butter or honey to soften it. The old woman gives you a glass of water to wash it down with.

“Mama, you seen my…” Hoyt rounds the corner and sees you sitting there, biscuit hovering right outside your mouth. He stomps over and grabs it right out of your hands, takes a large bite and begins talking. “You don’t need none a that, got enough meat on your damn bones.” He sprays crumbs of biscuit over you and you scrunch your eyes tight and shut your mouth to avoid it.

The woman frowns. “What’d you need?”

“Lookin’ for my hat.”

“Don’t know where it’s at.”

He finishes up the biscuit and heads out.

“Don’t you mind him, he’s harmless.”

-

The entire day is spent under the watchful eye of the old woman, who you’ve come to know is Luda Mae. She talks and talks about her life, about her family and the turn the town took, how she found Tommy in a waste bin outside the old laughter house, the life blood of the town. She waxes on about the good old days, between the prosperity after the second war and the Korean War when Hoyt was taken from their home and shipped halfway across the world, how it changed the man. She does not ask a single question about you, not even to find out your name. She just refers to you as girl or baby.

She watches you as you clean, content to take the backseat and just watch, not have to lift a finger. She must be relieved to have another hand to help her out. You blink the sweat out of your eyes and wipe your arm against your forehead and continue to scrub at the grout on the floor. Luda Mae chain smokes while you work.

Thomas comes by later in the afternoon with a package of meat wrapped up in butcher paper and tied up with a piece of twine. He drops it on the counter.

“Think we got enough to last us until winter?” Luda Mae asks, unwrapping the meat. You’ve never seen a cut of meat look like that. You wonder what it is.

Thomas nods.

You glance at him from the ground. Towering above you, he seems like a god, untouchable, unknowable. He has not spoken a single word in your presence. Can he speak? How are you supposed to know what goes on inside his head, if you make a wrong move or say something wrong to him? You won’t have a moment to find out, you’ll be dead the second you do, just like Lucy.

He walks away, footsteps echoing off the walls as he is swallowed up by the house.

Luda Mae cuts up the meat into rough cubes and browns the chunks in a cast iron skillet, throws a few potatoes and onions and carrots into a pot and drowns it with a broth from one of the mason jars. The meat follows after. The best you can figure is beef, but you hadn’t seen any cattle out on the farm when you ran, matter of fact, there was no livestock to be seen.

You clean while she cooks and when the stew is ready, she hollers down for her boys to come eat. They file in–Hoyt first followed by Monty and trailing at the end of the pack is Tommy. They all sit around the table, taking up their usual spots while you wait to see what's left for you, which happens to be a spot between Hoyt and Tommy, sitting straight across from Luda Mae.

Luda Mae serves each of the men, giving Tommy a healthy portion. She serves herself and leaves the ladle in the pot. You serve yourself. The stew reeks, the potatoes and carrots undercooked and while the meat suffers the opposite problem.

You stare down at the bowl as Hoyt says grace, thanking the lord for this bountiful meal. You hold your tongue. 

“Amen.”

They all break into their meals. Tommy eats with his hands, tearing into the meat with sharp teeth and rips pieces off, pops carrots and potatoes into his mouth, barely stopping to take a breath as he devours. He licks his finger and brings the bowl to his lips, slurping down the broth until only the dregs are left. He mops up the broth with a dry piece of bread. Everyone else eats with cutlery but they are hardly any better, eating like they don’t know when their next meal will be. 

A piece of meat floats up to the top of the bowl.

“Eat your food,” Luda Mae says.

“What kind of meat is this?”

Tommy, evidently fed up with you, grabs your chin and reaches into the bowl with his other hand, fishes out a chunk of meat, tears it apart with, and shoves it against your closed mouth. You squirm in his grasp, sliding back into your chair to escape it. He grabs your cheek, forcing your jaw open much the same like when he inspected your mouth, and when your jaw drops, he shoves the meat in your mouth and throws his hand over your mouth and plugs up your nose. You choke down the piece of meat. It’s not pork or beef. It’s not gamey enough to be deer or tender enough to be elk. Too dark for it to be chicken or duck. You eventually swallow. He shovels the food down your throat, breaking up the potatoes and carrots like you’re a child incapable of chewing your food. Whatever it is, it’s inedible.

He continues shoveling food down your throat and tears spring to your eyes as you're helpless against it. When you refuse to swallow even after he blocked off your airways, he pushes the food down with a thick finger while you gag around the intrusion. He goes too deep and you suffer the consequences, your torso rolling forward as your stomach clenches and pushes vile back up your throat. It spews out between Thomas’ fingers and he snatches his hand back. Your head hangs forward and you brace yourself with your elbows against the table. It burns just as bad coming up as it did going down.

Hoyt slams his spoon down against the table and stands. “Ungrateful bitch. We don’t waste food.” Hoyt scoops up the chunks of your vomit and grabs your head, ducking you down to eat out of his hand. “Come on, eat up.”

“Hoyt.” Luda Mae warns.

“Now what, Mama?” Hoyt looks up at her and sneers. “Gotta teach her some manners.”

Tommy doesn’t come to rescue you this time. He doesn’t even look at you, doesn’t acknowledge what Hoyt is doing to you. He curls into his seat, one hand petting over the dried out flesh of David’s face, right where his cheek would be, eyes down turned as he makes a noise in his throat. 

The acidic smell makes you gag and that gives Hoyt the opening he’s been looking for and shoves the chunks into your mouth, mirroring Tommy. He scoops, pours it into your mouth and holds your mouth and nostrils closed. You cry and wail, thrash against the seat, you burn in humiliation as you swallow each mouthful of the acidic sludge. 

He gets right in your face and whispers as if he’s telling you a secret, “Told you I’d get mine, girl.” Hoyt shoves you out of your chair. You hit the ground with a thud and curl into yourself, covering your head with your hands, prepared for a physical battering that never comes.

“I’m sorry!” you wail. That’s all you seem to know how to say now. How much more indignity will you have to withstand here? You’re no longer a person here. You imagine what would happen if you were to escape, how you would be hailed as the lone survivor, the lucky one, the one that should be grateful to be alive. It’s hard to consider yourself lucky or grateful to still be breathing when you are treated as nothing more than an unloved dog.

“Best not see you wastin’ food like that again.” 

Everyone at the table continues on as if nothing happened while you are suspended in time, curled up on the ground soaking in your bile. They chat about their respective days. Luda Mae scolds the man in the wheelchair for feeding his dog at the table. A hand reaches down to you, pets your shoulder gently. Tommy. You can’t stand his touch. What use was it to be chosen by him, to be the only survivor of a brutal slaughter, and he won’t even protect you from these punishments Hoyt has decided to debase you with? He can’t like you that much like Luda Mae claimed he did. He keeps on petting you. 

Dinner ends. Monty and Hoyt leave the dining room, not bothering to bring their dishes to the sink, and you can hear a television set turn on and Luda Mae clears the table. Tommy does not get up to help her, so preoccupied with you. He pulls you back into your seat, grunting at your dead weight–you refuse to participate anymore–and he cleans you up. He wipes the vomit from around your mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and licks his thumb to wipe at the dried spots of bile across your cheek and chin, picks at the chunks in your hair and on your clothes. Tommy nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.

-

Luda Mae doesn’t want anything to do with you today. She ignores you when she unties you from the bedpost and leads you not to the kitchen but out the front door. You stumble at the threshold, wondering if it’s a trick, that if you take one step outside, Tommy will come running like a bat out of hell and mow you down with the chainsaw and serve you up on a silver platter. Luda Mae scoffs and pull you by the wrist outside.

“Monty, I’m goin’ down to the station. You watch her.”

Monty scowls at her and begins to argue. Luda Mae ignores him and begins her walk down the dirt road, off to the gas station.

He ignores you while his mutt growls and yips at you, annoyed by the stranger that’s taken up residence in its home, disturbing the careful balance of family life. 

Monty pulls out a carton of cigarettes and lights one up.

“Can I get one?”

He side eyes you. Up until now, Monty has pretended you don’t exist, hasn’t so much as spared you a glance or a word. He’s decidedly more bearable than anyone else. He pulls another cigarette out and hands it and a lit match to you. You light the cigarette, shake the flame out and toss the match out into the long grass.

You take a long drag. It’s been years since you last touched one and what a relief it is. The acrid taste of tobacco and smoke overwhelming you, the burn in your lungs when you inhale, familiar and homey, it relaxes you. The smell of cigarette smoke will cover up the scent of vomit, a decided improvement. “Thanks.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

You look at his legs. The ends of his legs are scared to hell and looks like the flaps of skin left to close over the old wound were crudely sewn closed. The skin is red and irritated. The dog steps close to the end of his left leg and you hear a hiss from Monty.

You lean up against the column and nod your chin in his direction. “What happened to your legs?”

“Huntin’ accident.” 

You hum. 

-

You wipe away the grimy window with your hand. Your palm comes back greasy and dark gray. The store is dark inside. And just as you thought from spending a minute looking at the outside, it’s abandoned, there’s no way anyone has been in there in ages.

“I think we’re outta luck.” You squat down and brush your palm along the dried up patch of grass and weeds. “I don’t see anyone in there.”

“Goddamn it.” Bobby kicks at the dirt. “I knew we should’ve stopped for gas at the last town. Fuckin’ David.”

“What are we going to do?” Lucy whimpers.

“I don’t fuckin’ know.”

The door to the station opens and shuts. An old woman with cat eye glasses and an apron tied around her waist looks over the group of you with an unimpressed glean in her eye. She looks mean, hardened by the years of the Texas sun and rural living. She takes a drag of her cigarette and points to the three of you with the lit end. “What y’all think you’re doin’?”

“We were just stopping for gas,” you offer.

The woman shrugs. “Ain’t got any.” 

“How?” Lucy squawks. “This is a gas station!”

“Girl, did you even look around when ya’ drove through?” She leans over the edge of the porch, upper lip curling in a sneer. “It look like I got people coming in here bothering me for gas every day?” 

“I know it’s a lot to ask but would you be able to give us a ride or maybe you could call someone to take us up to the next town to get gas?” you ask.

“Nearest town is thirty miles west. Ain’t nobody I know wasting gas like that, not with prices like they are. Best hope you got enough to get you there.”

Lucy stutters over her words and fuming until she goes red in the face. “Miserable, old hag!”

Bobby stalks up towards the woman. She doesn’t shirk under him, just looks at him as if he said something funny and it only aggravates him. He gets right into her face, throwing some kind of hissed threat at her that you can’t make out. She only laughs and blows smoke in his face.

“Let's get out of here.” Bobby mutters and grabs both you and Lucy by the arms, tugging you along back towards the van. You’re not sure who is going to be brave enough to break the news to David. These two have royally fucked it up. You rip yourself out of Bobby’s grasp, arm jiggling with the force you use.

“You guys head back, I’m gonna try again.”

“Dumpling, get back here. We aren’t wasting anymore time on that bitch.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout.

Bobby raises an eyebrow and Lucy snickers, covering it up with a well polished hand. “Why should I?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Why try and reason with him? You knew this would happen. You are no longer the fun loving, self hating fat girl they want that goes along with their jokes and barbs, no longer just set decoration or something to fill the gaps in conversation. They won’t see you as a person, it won’t matter what you say. So you don’t. “I’ll be back.”

The old woman has retreated back into the station by the time you get back to the porch. You push open the door and knock on the door jam. “Ma’am?”

It’s darker than you thought it would be; the only sources of light come from the windows and the display case. The case is full of cuts of meat that have gone gray, infested with maggots and flies buzzing about, feast happily on their spoiled meal. Littering the walls are the most gaudy and grotesque trinkets, the most prominent being the moose head mounted against the wall, looming over you, its glass eyes watching you, warning you that something isn’t quite right here. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you.

You look around the room and toward the back you see the outline of a person swallowing up the doorway they stand in.

“Hello?”

They do not respond nor do they move into the light. You approach them even though everything in your gut is telling you to run, run as far as you can and never look back, but you crush that feeling under your foot because what the worst that can happen? Bad things don’t happen to people like you. 

The man shuffles backwards when you come to stand in front of him, You stop him with a light touch on the wrist. His fingers splay apart and then curl up into a fist before relaxing into their natural position. His fingers twitch. You let go. You can’t imagine that you make him nervous, not with his size and the strength he practically oozes. He makes you nervous, though most men do—you can never tell what they are thinking or if they will treat you with any respect or kindness, they take one look at you and decide right then and there, based purely on the way you look, how they will treat you, and more often than not it is with calculated disinterest or rudeness as they try to chat up other women, prettier women who don’t take up space like you do. He must know about what it feels to take up space with his wide shoulders and barrel chest, his stomach rounded off with a layer of fat and thick arms corded with muscle from manual labor. Maybe he will show you a shred of decency. He’s wearing a thick apron stained in blood—he must be the one that butchered the pig in the display case. His face is shrouded in shadow. He’s tall, taller than any man you have ever met before. 

“Excuse me, sir.” He perks up, shoulders drawn tight and back ramrod straight, making himself taller. You try to peer at his face. You can see the white of his eyes. “I was looking for the woman that works here.”

“What are you doin’ here?” the woman says from behind you. 

You jump at the sound of her voice and turn your back to the man. “I came to apologize for my… friends.”

She comes closer to you, crowding you closer and closer against the man. Eventually, there’s no place left for you to go, you don’t quite touch him but you can feel the heat radiate off of him in thick waves. You swallow hard, raising your hands up to placate her, but she takes no notice, expression growing sour as she sees your proximity to the man. His right hand hovers below your elbow, fingers twitching, itching to grab hold of your soft arm. 

“You leave my boy alone and get out of here.”

Her son. How could a woman so small spawn something so towering? 

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out and try to shuffle out between the two bodies. A hand grazes across the back of your shoulder blades. You don’t bother to turn back to look at the man. You’re burning hot from the sudden ambush of the woman and the humiliation of being so stupid as to think you could make amends for your friends and try to find a way out. They will laugh at you, see the way you hold yourself together and take it as a chance to tear you apart and break you down, take out their frustrations on you, the situation that they created, always the scapegoat.

The sudden shift from dark to light blinds you a moment as your eyes adjust. You start back to the van, kicking up dust behind you.

“Wait.” The woman steps out of the door and off the porch and moseys on over to you. Long gone is that scorn in her eye, replaced by something kinder. “I’ll call the Sheriff. He might have some gas to spare. I’ll have him come ‘round.”

“Really?” You smile and reach out to her, grabbing her hand in yours. Finally! Something is working out for you. You’re going to be able to get back home and bury this trip and your friends away deep in your memory. This is the last trip, last time you will see them. “Thank you, ma’am. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

“Go on, wait with your friends. It won’t take more than forty minutes for him to get here.”

“Thank you!” You turn back on your heel, feeling lighter than ever.

[megangovier]

Through The Woods

Word counter: 1.1k

Pairing: Depraved! Michael Myers x fem! reader x Jason Voorhees x Ghostface

Summary: Your boyfriend dumps you after four years, leaving you in the woods. Scared you hide from the creatures of the night, as you walked and walked, three masked men follow you.

Tw: Abuse at the start

Warning: 18+ only || Smut || mmm4f || Cheating || Arguments || P in V || Dirty talk || degradation || mdni || Dub-con || depravity || throatfucking || cream pie || breeding kink || daddy!kink || handjob || BJ ||

"Get the fuck out my car bitch, you ain't worth my time anymore".. tears started to roll down your face. The man that you were sitting next to in the car, wasn't the guy you met four years ago, he's changed and you didnt like it. You missed the sweet man you got used to, the guy that would make you breakfast in the morning and looked after you when you were ill, you don't know what he had done with that guy. "You were the one cheating on me with those hoes, I've been nothing but nice to you and you treat me like this" anger rising in your chest "Boo-hoo, get the fuck out! We are done" screaming at him, you run out the door and into the woods.

Scared and frightened you think ways of surviving through the night, all sorts of creatures lurk through the darkness waiting for their next meal. "I can't fucking believe him, wasted four years of my life with him and he cheats on me, my mother was right about him but me being a dumb bitch believing in love, fairy tale fucking over". As you head through the tree's, listening to owls hooting and crickets, a calm wave washed over you, nature was always your favourite place to be when you were having a bad day.

Music also brought you escapism, one of your many favourite things to do. Slipping headphones in, you put on zen music. Smiles on your face, tears long gone. As much as you loved that man, you didn't have to deal with him again, going to feel sorry for the next girl he dates, the way he treated you, bound to happen again to someone else. The sky was pitch black, the time was 22:30. Stars shining brightly, moon as big as a rocket shining back. Passing tree's, phone in hand, torch looking for a safe place for the night, away from creatures that could eat you alive.

As you were finding your way to a safe place, three large men were hiding behind a tree, few yards away from where you were standing. Looking at you with their lustful eyes, mouths watering, ghostface looks at Michael and whispers "Can we please take her now, please I need to be inside her so bad, my balls are so fucking tight" Michael growled and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Come on Mike, you know what happens when he doesn't get what he wants" Jason said. A sigh left his lips, looking at ghostface he nods in annoyance and ghost face, quietly heads in your direction.

Still heading north, you lost all patience trying to find a place to stay for the night. As you were about to turn back, someone came up behind you and pushed you to the floor, their strength pinning your arms above your head, his leg keeping yours open "get off of me creep" a man laughs above you. White mask, boiler suit "Oh honey, we're just getting started" unzipping his boiler suit Michael grabs you by the hair, pulling you up on your knees "Now take all of daddy's cock down your throat, while my friend here ruts himself against you". "Open your mouth baby, that's it"

As Michael slams himself into your throat, ghostface is behind you with his gloved fingers inside your dripping cunt "oh look, someone's being a little slut! you like that huh, being throat fucked by my friend here". As ghostface was finger fucking you from behind, Jason had slipped his hand down his pants, whimpering like the cute submissive boy he is "Aw look Jason, you want some of this?" Jason nodded his head and got on his knees "Good Boy, now you know what to do" as ghostface got up and walked over to your side "stroke my cock slut, while he fucks your throat" as your hand went to his cock Michael grabbed your wrist "I wanted to play with her, this little plaything is mine Michael" growls left his lips. Letting go, you looked at Michael's eyes, they were so pretty "I think she likes you Michael" heat rises up your neck, making you clench around Jason's fingers.

"Fuck, I'm so close princess!" Michael had let his cock fall from your lips. Ghost face had grabbed your face and rammed his cock into your throat "oh fuck, take it all, or I'll have to spit it back into your mouth, if I see a single drop from those pretty lips of yours" a moan left your throat and legs started to shake "faster Jason, she's close" doing what he was told, your eyes rolled back and mouth agape giving Michael the opportunity to lift up his mask and kiss you passionately, spitting the warm seed back into your throat.

After coming undone, Michael kneeled behind you, hands on hips and mouth near ear "now I ain't going slow, princess" a whimper left your lips. Jason felt invisible "Jason, fuck her mouth will you, Michael is going to make this bitch scream and we can't let people nose around here" unzipping his trousers making pants fall along with them, Jason slowly enters his cock in your mouth. Michael slammed himself inside you, making your eyes roll back "Fuck princess, you're so tight, can't wait til I breed you, shoot my babies inside you" clenching around him, Michael pulls your hair "Such a dirty slut for us, you have no idea what I'm going to do to you" a moan escaped your lips, making jason buck his hips, whining.

Jason couldn't take it a second more, he needed to be inside of you but he knew better than to make Michael angry as he was the boss, leaded the pack. "Atta girl, can you do it one more time, I know you're exhausted but I don't care! You're going to be used by all three of us, by the end of tonight and I'm going to take you back home and use you again and again, until I know you've been bred". You're so close and Michael could feel it "come on slut, you can do it, come all over daddy's cock" as his hand came down hard on your ass, your pussy clenched tightly around him and came hard on his cock, making Jason tip his head back, releasing in your throat.

As Michael slid out your wetness, juices and come was running down your thighs. Panting with exhaustion, sleep washed over you. A slap across the face woke you up "we aren't done yet princess, I'm not the only one who needed this pussy" Ghostface positions himself behind you, grabbing onto heavily bruised hips "you look so pretty with those bruises tattooed on your hips" a tired whimper left your aching throat. You couldn't do anything, your body was achy and tired. Closing your eyes, listening to the raspiness of his voice, ghost face slammed into your pussy, pounding it from behind.

@toxicanonymity 🖤 @larabiatasstuff @pinkberry1rxx ✨

[artificial-transmutations]

The curse of the witches house

Ratko sighed. He really loved his job as a paramedic, but this was the third emergency call today, and he started to just feel tired. The first two calls were not so hard, though. One of them was nothing more than a car accident on the road nearby. And it didn't take long to find all wounded people at that one.

This time was different, though. It took him almost an hour to reach the location where the emergency happened. This wasn't because of traffic or distance, but rather due to the fact that it was in a remote and deserted building in a forest, which was not easy to find. "The witches house", people called it. No-one knew what they did there, but some said that something evil lurked behind those walls.

When he finally found the place, Ratko felt scared. It looked like a haunted house from the movies. It wasn't difficult to imagine that a witch was once living there. A broken window gave him access inside.

"Hello?" he shouted nervously. His voice sounded small in the dark empty room. But no answer came. "Is anyone here?!" he tried again. Great, he thought. Either it had been a prank call or the people needing help were unconscious - or worse. Maybe someone got hurt badly.

He entered the house and checked if anything seemed wrong. Nothing did until he came to the cellar. There, he smelled the strange smell of burned herbs. He saw a big table with several jars full of unknown ingredients. Curiosity got the better of him and he looked around some more in the room. Suddenly, he heard a noise from above, startling him badly. Instinctively backing off, Ratko accidentally knocked one of the old jars from the table, breaking it. Immediately, the smell of exotic herbs filled the air and Ratko briefly heard a ghostly echo, like the cackle of an old woman. Frightened, he shook his head and quickly left the cellar.

After searching the house, he concluded that it was probably a prank call. Frustrated, Ratko went home. It was early evening already and after eating dinner, went to watch some tv. Normally, Ratko would spend the evening reading or studying, but today, he didn't really feel like it. Searching for something that caught his attention, he finally settled on a socker game. Normally, Ratko didn't care for sports at all, but today it just felt right. He even went to get a can of beer from the fridge that was still left from his last birthday.

That wasn't even so bad, Ratko concluded, as he sat on his couch, sipping his beer and watching sports. The good part about socker, or sports in general, was that the players were usually pretty fit and good looking. Perhaps he should work out more himself, he mused, while he stuck his right hand into his pants almost automatically. He felt his cock chub up and began stroking it gently. Oh well, maybe tomorrow morning...

The next day was Saturday and Ratko woke up late in the morning on his couch, feeling lazy and relaxed. It took him a moment to recollect what happened yesterday, but the beer can on his floor and the cum stains in his uniform pants told him most of the story. After showering and cleaning up, he decided to go jogging instead of going to the library, which is what he usually did on Saturday mornings. He was surprised by himself about how fit he was. Running didn't really tire him much and his body was functioning like a well-oiled machine. But God was he horny. Every time he passed a somewhat attractive guy, he turned around and checked out their asses. Perhaps he should try to get laid again, it had been a while. The erection that grew in his running shorts was hard to hide. At first, he tried to stuff it down his leg, but it wouldn't stay there. So, he decided to just flaunt it and smiled at men looking at his bulge. At some point, somebody smiled back. He wasn't bad looking, so Ratko stopped and, after checking the other man out, addressed him unusually bluntly: "Hey man! Like what you see?" It wasn't like him to be so direct, but somehow, he found it difficult to formulate proper sentences today.

The stranger laughed and answered in kind: "Yes, I do."

"Good," Ratko replied confidently, "so let's take this somewhere private."

"Sure thing!" the young man said enthusiastically and grabbed Ratko's arm. They walked together through the park and when they reached a secluded corner where no one could hear them, Ratko pushed the stranger against a tree and kissed him passionately. It was only a few seconds before the two started making out hotly and groping each other.

"Oh fuck, yeah!" Ratko groaned loudly as his hands explored the stranger's body. He loved the smooth skin and soft muscles underneath his fingers. His dick was throbbing like crazy now and it was getting harder and harder to keep control over it. With some force and not much finesse, Ratko flipped the guy around and pulled down his pants, exposing the strangers ass.

"Fuck me! Fuck my tight little hole!" the stranger moaned and lifted his buttocks up.

"I'm gonna do it, baby!" Ratko growled and pressed his cock against the guys asshole.

"Oh yes!" the man cried out, "fuck me hard!"

"Yeah!" Ratko grunted and shoved his cock inside the man's ass. He felt the heat of the stranger's body and smelled its sweat. The man's ass squeezed his cock tightly as he thrust forward with powerful strokes.

"Ohh yesss!" the stranger screamed out as he felt his ass being fucked hard. He couldn't believe how good it felt. His whole body trembled, and he felt his balls tightening. He knew he would soon cum if Ratko kept fucking him like this. He wanted to warn him, but his voice failed him. Instead, he just gasped loudly as he felt an orgasm rushing towards him. And then it hit him, and he exploded deep inside the stranger's ass. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes as waves of pleasure coursed through his body. At the same time, the stranger moaned and creamed the front of his own pants.

Both men were panting, and Ratko couldn't believe that he just fucked a random guy out in the open. Somehow, though, it made him feel proud.

"Want one?" The stranger offered Ratko a cigarette. He wanted to reply that he didn't smoke, but then again, why not start now, he reasoned and took the cigarette.

"Thanks," he said and lit up. He took a long drag and looked at the man who was still holding his pants up. "We can do this again sometimes", Ratko offered, while already walking away.

Although he just finished a run and pounded a strangers ass, Ratko was still feeling full of energy, so he decided to go to the gym to lift some weights.

It was a long workout and after it, Ratko was feeling horny again. On the way home, he bought some packs of smokes and a six pack of beer. He lit a cigarette already on the way home and another when he arrived on his couch and cracked open a beer.

Parts of Ratko felt disgusted. He was a far way from the intellectual he had been before, and could only watch helplessly, as with each passing hour today, his thoughts had slowed down and his body had grown bigger, and he could do nothing to stop this curse.

The next day, when Ratko woke up and after he jerked off in the morning, he looked at himself in the mirror, while smoking another cig. Yeah, he looked good, Ratko decided with a dumb chuckle. Time to work out and then find another guy to sink his jock meat into.

[amazingdvils]

VERSE NAME: Human Desperation AGE APPEARANCE: 12-17 years old MAIN SETTING: Present day, post canon. Gun Barrel, Colorado DESCRIPTION: Millie attempted to stay at the Sleigh House property as a ‘vampire’ after it was cleared out, feeding off of those who dared to trespass. Unfortunately for her, the FBI had been keeping a close eye on the place just in case something else popped up. Once the dead bodies started appearing, they swooped in with the local police department. She tried to run and hide like she had before, but was quickly caught. Her attempt to fight them failed and her ornament was shattered in the ensuing fight, causing her humanity to apparently return. 

Realizing that she was in a bad position, Millie quickly fell into playing the part of the frightened little girl who was all alone in the world. The FBI ran her DNA through their databases to see if they could find her family and were shocked to discover that she was Charlie Manx’s direct descendant. They worried that being connected to him in that manner would harm her chances of being taken in by someone, but their worries were quickly waved away when a couple reached out to them. They lived a few towns away from Gun Barrel and had heard about Millie’s discovery, so they wanted to take her in. 

This couple couldn’t have children of their own and had originally planned on staying childfree, but their obsession with t/rue c/rime made taking Millie in far too tempting for them. They had plenty of money, so the little girl got anything that she could ever want. Good therapists, an excellent education, the ability to travel anywhere that she wanted to on her vacations. She used their obsession to convince them to buy the Sleigh House property when it went up for sale and rebuild the house and the barn. 

They gave Millie the barn to do with as she pleased and she quickly turned it into her own private workshop. It began to host her various hobbies, including her obsession with Christmas. Twinkling lights decorated the place from top to bottom, trees stood in various corners, ornaments glitter on the shelves. Her guardians aren’t happy with her Christmas obsession, but they let her be as long as she keeps it hidden away in the barn. 

During all this, Millie is desperately looking for a way back into Christmasland. She hoped beyond hope that she was a Creative like Charlie and that she would eventually find a way to inherit her inscape. She tried everything that she could get her hands on, from roller skates to bicycles and even skateboards but nothing worked. With each passing year, she grew more and more desperate and scared that she was going to fail Charlie once again.

Two days after her sixteenth birthday, however, everything changed. Her foster dad took her to an older gentleman who was selling his old car, a 1958 Plymouth Fury hardtop. It was beaten to hell and back and barely ran. However, when Millie sat behind the wheel, she instantly knew that this was what she’d been looking for for so long. She begged him to buy it, despite how borderline hopeless the repairs look. Eventually, he gave in and bought the car and had it towed to the Sleigh House. 

Millie was thankful that one of the hobbies that she’d picked up over the years was cars. She immediately went to work, figuring out what needed replacing ( pretty much everything ) and what could stay. She literally put her blood, sweat, and tears into hours of work to make the Plymouth run once more. Months later, her hard work paid off despite the initial doubts. The car was looking and running as beautifully as it did when it rolled out of the factory. 

Now in possession of her own knife, Millie became certain of two things: Ch/ristmasland would be resurrected and V/ictoria M/cQueen will pay for what she’s done.

[alice-escapes]

JP has a serious issue with patience and managing his expectations. As in, he’s incapable of both. He flies off the handle over something disproportionately minor and makes a thoughtless decision that has major ramifications, then expects everyone who is inconvenienced to fail in line because he wants what he wants. Anyone expressing dissent are his enemies.

He had been renting a room in a house with too many people and too much drama. Early in July he reached meltdown status. Someone had gone into his room, taken some tree and left $5 to cover it. He decided that the best recourse was to move out, no notice, and move in with his mother. Who was living in a rental house with his sister, her husband and their three kids, plus JPs youngest daughter, who his mother had been raising with no help from him or his daughter’s mom. He didn’t ask the people who were on the lease if they were happy to have him move in, and if they were, give notice to the woman he’d been subletting from. He packed his stuff into his car and mine and drove across town. Surprise, the prodigal son returns.

By the time we got everything there, it was 10 or 11 at night. His mother took it with exhausted resignation. She told me many times that it was easier to give him what he wanted right away because he would get it in the end anyway. His sister, however, put up a fight, so he got loud and finally I walked out unnoticed and went home. I was over all of it and all of them for the night.

When I got up for work the following morning, I had a text from him. His cousin had died during the night before, a heroin overdose. I did what I always did, and put him ahead of everything else. He wanted to hide from everyone, and I booked a hotel room for the week. When we met there at checkin, I heard the full story. The salient points:

While he and his sister fought the night before, he got a call from his niece, her dad was passed out and could JP help her and her mom move him. JP called after the sibling screaming match ended and all was well. They found him in the morning, not an overdose but a contributing factor. JP blamed himself, and I was never able to make him see reason and absolve himself of the blame.

I was immediately frightened when I saw him. He had a thousand yard stare, and was almost catatonic. I was so scared that he would follow his cousin into the grave, overdose himself. I watched him sleep every night for a week, until he suddenly became everybody’s best friend on Friday, except mine. He was gone all night, didn’t respond to my calls and texts asking where he was. That would be the new normal for the duration, and was the beginning of almost a year of my constant vigilance, focused on his wellbeing. I seemed to think that if he was lying dead somewhere, I could bring him back to life if only I could divine his location.

I could see him spiraling. He was running, partying for days, and I had no idea where or with who or what drugs he was taking. I could hardly sleep unless I was able to find proof of life. I checked call and text history on my cell phone account, where I paid for his service too, looking for outgoing communication. We had a joint bank account that was really his but I had to manage and I tracked transactions to assure me he was ok. And in June the following year, I gave up. I was so worn out and I could finally see the futility of what I had been doing. He was on a mission to destroy himself and he did not want me to save him. I couldn’t have saved him even if he did, because he was gone from me by then. He grew hateful and nasty in response to my efforts to love him, care for him. Even when he dropped the pretense of fidelity, I was benevolent.

I was convinced that this was grief, misappropriated blame, that he was seeking punishment. If I could love him enough, the way he needed to be loved, he would become himself again. In volumes of letters, I told him that I knew he was flawed but I knew how good his heart was. I loved him, exactly as he was, and I always would. That somehow we were more permanent than marriage. I used to say blithely that the only thing that would keep us apart is if I moved somewhere he couldn’t find me or if one of us were dead. Anyone who said we had a fairytale, I told we were more like the 21st century version of Sid and Nancy. Glib comments that were frighteningly prescient in the wake of all that happened. At the time I intended to say we were fucked up and toxic but we were also the only ones who truly understood the other. I was so wrong about so many things.

However, I finally understood that I was unable to control everything in the universe. I let go of my nightly pacing, my imaginary widows walk. I was free to have my own life, my own friends, to be happy. We were living definitively separate lives because I couldn’t stand any of the people he associated with aside from his other cousin who had become like a brother. I was too old for that street shit he reveled in. He found the validation he craved in the people he got high with no charge, the silly bitches who were happy to bounce on his dick for the clouds he let them blow.

I held tightly to my hope that there was redemption somewhere ahead, that he could get better. But August came along and things got worse, and I first started thinking that he seemed like he wanted to destroy everything that was good in me.

[inkyvendingmachine]

In Which Spell That Never Worked Before Suddenly Works Season 3, Episodes 12

💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀 🎶 Call of Cthulhu Season Three Masterpost 🎶

Warning: This campaign is an edited version of Call of Cthulhu: Song and Dance scenario from the Tales of the Crescent City book. While a lot has been changed, there IS spoilers for it throughout these posts. 

This one was delayed because I needed to make sure it was as cool as Henry was in this scene. It was a REALLY COOL SCENE... and uh, VERY FRIGHTENING,, Anyways, we’re in the thick of it now, boys!

ART CHANGES THIS SEASON!! @inkdemonapologist and I are collabing on all the art for these summery posts!! Shazz does lines, and I compose and colour the pieces.

Well, Joey knows where he’s going to find the kidnapped Colette at least, but it’s not like he can just sprint there now on his own, so we’ll get back to that later.

So... what happened to the other girls?

Henry managed to get Susie outside safely, though they noticed they had someone scanning the crowds looking for her right away. She’s familiar, not because Henry has seen her before, but because he’s seen multiple family members of hers: Y’s sister… They start hurrying towards the car. Not too far behind them, Timothee and Nicole are just buried in the crowd enough not to be noticed and manage to sneak out as well. For a moment Henry and Susie pause, worried that the Y sibling might try to grab Nicole… but no, it’s not Nicole she’s after right now. Instead, she's heading right towards Henry and Susie, definitely in their direction, and not a vaguely-into-the-crowd's direction.... OKAY TIME TO SERIOUSLY GET TO THE CAR GOGOGO,, Henry gets Susie to hide in the back while he pulls out the gun he was borrowing, and points it at the approaching mobster.

Inside, the goon holding Sammy is attempting to drag him off towards the door, suffering somewhat after getting knifed in the arm. Jack, unable to answer any of Leon’s panicked and non-helpful questions, seeing a point of opportunity, and more determined than ever, runs forward and full body tackles the goon one more time. This time it works, and he fully manages to knock the guy over, unfortunately also knocking Sammy over into a chair. But that’s fine! Because Sammy is free once again, and likewise, done with this guy's shit. As the two scramble to their feet, Sammy yelling hint hint it’d be nice if Trenchcoat showed up around now, the goon sees Joey and Peter have also turned around from their other exit and started heading back towards this particular fight. 

Remembering what happened to dearly departed Saxophone when Joey showed up, he starts backing away. Sammy is still in panicked fight mode though, and grabs the chair he got knocked into, slamming it into the goon and causing him to splatter into a whole patch of Yellow Ink across the center of the dance floor. 

Everyone will remember that for a while. Especially this security guard who was in no way prepared to see such a thing. Especially especially Leon, who was gently prepared for this but not actually prepared for this.

Jack turns to Joey and asks what to do while people start trying to cope with this, Joey who is mostly propping Peter up right now? He’s not passed out, but he’s not quite there either and his legs are only half working for some reason after slamming into someone in the crowd. Joey doesn’t quite have an answer for Jack, but Allison calls out to the group from her position between the dancefloor and the entrance with one: she’s seen someone chasing after Henry. Well!! THERE’S YOUR ANSWER!! Joey grabs Jack and gets him to help Peter, while he then grabs a disassociating Sammy and a broken Leon and drags them enough towards the door to get them moving and just hurries everyone along with him. Everyone outside now!! We need to catch up with Henry!!!! NO MORE TIME FOR CHATTING.

While running outside, Sammy catches up with Jack and grabs his hand, trying to see if he can tell anything about Jack… because the thing Joey didn’t notice was that it wasn’t exactly Sammy anymore. Not getting a read in the heat of the situation though, Prophet just whispers a ‘Come, my sheep’ and pulls Jack, and thus Peter, along with him towards the entrance. Though halfway there, he gets disoriented, and apparently returns to being the shepherd again. 

Norman peeks his head out from backstage now that the abduction that raced past him is gone, and follows after them.

Y (sister forme) continues to approach Henry and the car Susie is in, slowly, calmly now, addressing them and letting them know that if Henry just hands Susie over, nobody has to get hurt. Of course, to this Henry pulls back the hammer on the gun and makes it very clear he is not up for such a negotiation. She does not seem to hesitate though, walking up and grabbing his arm, somewhat calling his bluff. It was a bluff… in a way. He wasn’t exactly ready to try and shoot her. But upon feeling a weird jolt of himself being sucked away from her touch, he panics, and… slices her through the middle with a golden ethereal scythe thing?? That he? summoned out of??? HIMSELF?!??! He just,,, has the colour drain out of him and has now a scary scythe thing….

Which, at this point she’s morphed somewhat into a weird orb tentacle monster? She collapses some onto the ground, and Henry slashes her again, just to make sure. She’s not cut open, but does continue to just have two golden slashes through her that remain. And has completely stopped moving. She is very dead now.

Joey runs up, with some others trailing behind him as they witness whatever this is. Henry is still weirdly pale… not like he’s sick, like he’s monochrome. Like that time, back in Haiti, where the world went weird and silent. The scythe disappears, and Henry steps over the corpse to ask Joey if everyone is alright. 

JOEY GRABS HENRY AND STARTS FRANTICALLY ASKING IF HE IS!! ALRIGHT?!?! WHAT HAPPENED WHAT WAS THAT WHAT DID YOU DO ARE YOU OKAY–

Henry holds him still and tells him everything is fine, despite the fact he’s uh, monochrome. When Joey points this out, he doesn’t seem to be shocked by it, just slightly surprised that there had been an effect. He actually seems… very non emotional overall. Henry informs his best friend that it’s just a spell that he picked up from Doc Moonlight’s journal. No big.

This does not comfort Joey.

Henry tries to get them back on task but Joey just frantically hugs him for a moment, in a possessive and somewhat fearful way, like Henry might just disappear any second now. When that doesn’t happen and Henry just calmly hugs back, he finally pulls himself together enough to get everyone loaded in the car and heading back to the studio. They need to go after Colette but first they need to get the other girls to safety and get some more supplies if they’re going to beat down the door of a Mobster Cult Hideout. 

But Jack, Leon, Timothee, Nichole, and Sammy DID SEE danger approaching Henry as they ran out to Jack’s car, so Jack takes a moment to loop back around and check on the other group before heading back to the studio, where Sammy and Jack both manage to catch a look at the dead monster that was once Y(F) on the ground. But they also see that the other group is fine and getting the second car started as well, so start to head off–

Sammy was initially recovering from the sight of the monster, but becomes suddenly very insistent on following the other car. Staying behind them, keeping an eye on them. Jack… continues to drive in the same direction as he was planning to, as Sammy continues to explain that he’s “seen the Golden Sheep before and seen the harm he can do.”

Well… hello again Prophet. Lovely for you to join us again out of the blue on this car ride.

They all get back to the studio, where Tom has been the only employee hanging around since they closed up before heading towards the contest in the first place. Knowing it was possible to bring back bad news, or a buncha muses stuffed into girls, or need to do weird rituals on the fly, or leave a buncha strangers in somewhat safety while going to retrieve a third lost muse girl, hypothetically, Joey had made sure to have the studio cleared out and one of the lobby film rooms available for everyone to sit in. 

Joey informs people he knows where they’re taking Colette, but doesn’t know how much time they have until they try to do the ritual on her, so they need to quickly get ready and head back out again; Norman and Timothee will stay behind with the other two girls to guard them meanwhile. Leon is offered a choice, with a quick rundown of what he may or may not be facing when he goes on this adventure, and ends up deciding to go, wanting to help save his girlfriend instead of standby in anxious stress.

Nicole goes to stand up and also demand to go with them, but Joey manages to interrupt before she can start being persuasive, cuts her off at the pass, and gets her to sit back down. She and Susie will wait here.

Prophet is staring at Henry. He’s very staring at Henry, like if he takes his eyes off Henry for a moment some bear trap will go off and snap them all up. But as Henry gets caught up in chatter with Joey and the others up front, it’s enough to convince him for a moment it’s safe not to watch, and he asks Jack for some paper to write stuff down. Specifically some warnings about “the golden sheep is not himself, he will slaughter the flock, DO NOT TRUST HIM,” and leaves it in his pocket later for Sammy to find. Y’know, a very clear, obvious message that will make a lot of sense later.

Susie ends up near them while this is going on, and asks what’s wrong with Sammy. Of course, Prophet immediately steps in to comment, trying to assure Susie that here is the safe place to wait and to stay far away from danger and everything will be alright. In the very normal Prophet way of not explaining what he is talking about at any point, calling everyone some sort of sheep, and not even answering her original question.

Susie… attempts to ask Jack, specifically, again, what happened.

Joey has still not noticed that Prophet has joined them, currently wrapped up in trying to get Henry to explain what he possibly did before?? Which, while there’s an explanation that makes sense (He got a spell from Moonlight's journal, and it hasn’t worked until now, but this time it did, and he knows he probably should have sourced it from somewhere else but he just wanted an offensive spell (boy did he get one!! Joey is VERY offended rn!!!!!))  but as for what exactly is happening to him in this moment? he doesn’t know. BUT IT WORKED SO IT’S FINE!! EXCEPT JOEY VERY THINKS IT ISN’T. Even getting something from Masked Messenger would be better because at least you know whatever that’s gonna DO. It might be a knife that hurts you to hold but at least you know it’ll still stab a guy! Meanwhile Doc Moonlight hands you a knife that hurts you to hold but when you go to use it the dang thing blows up in your face instead!!!

While this goes on, Prophet attempts one more time to assure Susie that she doesn’t need to worry before trying to get Bendy’s attention. Which involves getting Joey’s attention, since they’re still sharing a body right now. Jack takes this moment to explain to Susie as best he can right now; it’s a long story, magic stuff. Not an urgent thing that needs addressing, more explanation later. So she tries to call out to Sammy to ask him for another take, (she knows she can do better now!) which he pauses at, because Prophet DOES remember what she’s talking about. When he doesn’t respond right away though she starts singing the newest version of Alice's song… the one Sammy had manically improved over the week, the one that… She shouldn’t have any way of knowing.

This does cause him to turn around and hush her, insisting on doing this later… she’s surprised? But agrees, they need to help Colette first.

When Prophet finally grabs Joey’s attention, Joey’s actually not annoyed that his usual rival-in-his-lover’s-body has shown up again, just surprised. He does immediately demand Prophet hand over his flask, which is suspicious, but he confirms impatiently when Prophet questions it that, yes, Joey is assuming if you’re around you’ve drained some of your ink supply and need more so hand it over so he can fill it up. Okay well, Prophet wants to talk with them anyways about something so tries to pull him to the side, which is fine Joey needs to walk up to his office anyways for the ink refill. He gets Henry to round up the others to get ready to go while he’s talking with Prophet, which Henry doesn’t seem too sure about but does what he’s told.

Once alone, Prophet insists to Joey that Henry is not himself, he’ll betray his allies and slaughter anyone in his path. Joey is… confused but listening. He knows a thing or two about betraying people while under the bad influence of eldritch things around them after all. But this apparently isn’t the same… Prophet has seen this Henry before. It’s not their normal Henry. It’s one that showed up on one of the cycles in Haiti, according to Bendy… but just that once! And he didn’t seem TOTALLY murderous??? But if this is really as bad as Prophet says it is, then Joey knows he needs to bring Henry with him. Because leaving him here seems like a poor idea when Prophet is warning him about Henry slaughtering “the sheep they are trying to save”, and Joey knows he can’t betray Henry by sending him home to his family as he currently is, so Henry will have to come along. Joey refills their ink flasks, shots are taken, and they head downstairs, ready to go face whatever awaits them when they head back to Coney Island. 

Or, as ready as they possibly can be.

[Next Episode]

[Previous Episode]

[terichii]

Stalking | Haitani

Warnings: clumsy english text, typos

Can I just write something before I see these beautiful boys in the new episode?

Ran

You knew for sure that you had already seen this guy. By a stupid accident, one day he helped you collect your things that were scattered all over the street. Since then, he surprisingly often began to catch your eye. You noticed him on the way to and from work when you went to the store or just walked around the city. Sometimes he was passing by you and smile, which was confusing, but sometimes you noticed how he was watching from afar. In the end, it was like being paranoid. It seemed that you were about to see these two braids that callused your eyes, sitting on the sofa in your living room.

And you've come to terms with it. Almost. Until something happened.

"You've been finishing up pretty late lately."

"Eh?...",- the familiar voice sent shivers down your spine. You froze, unable to move. But you didn't want to turn your head because you probably knew it was him. Now it was just like a terrible dream that did not want to let you go.

"Do you need a ride?"

Swallowing, you turned around. Yes, it was him. That creepy guy with those stupid braids that you hated. Leaning on the steering wheel of the bike and propping his chin on his hand, he looked at you with a narrowed eye and a grin.

"Uh...n-no, thank you, I'm not far here...", - but you're lying and it seems that he understands this. The time was really late, and you live far away. But right now you were thinking about how to escape from him. You walked further along the street, periodically glancing at him and speeding up your pace. If you had the opportunity, you would have run with all your might now, but you knew that this opportunity was not there. You definitely can't overtake a bike.

The guy caught up with you, looking right into your face, the grin became even wider when he realized what was going on, it seemed that he felt you too well, - "Are you afraid of me?"

"What?? Of course not", - the words, full of indignation, literally burst out of you. No, you weren't afraid of him, you were already sick of seeing him. Isn't that right? Right? ...

From your harsh words, he looked thoughtfully somewhere up into the night sky, before turning back to you, - "That's how...but…"

But you're already gone.

Pausing in mid-sentence, Ran began to look around, peering into the depths of the dark streets. He pursed his lips when he realized where you went – to a remote alley. The place is not the safest.

Your rapid footsteps echoed hollowly from the concrete walls of the narrow alleys. Hoping to take a shortcut and get out of here as soon as possible, you wound through unfamiliar courtyards until you once again came to a dead end.

"Damn",- your thoughts began to get confused again, a tight lump rose somewhere in your throat, you felt panic. If you go back, he will be there. But you're tired of looking for a way out.

"Hey, baby, are you lost?"

Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice how three criminal-looking guys turned out to be nearby. One of them came up to you with an imposing gait, unceremoniously grabbing you by the waist, the disgusting type pulled you closer to him.

"Why are you so tense, relax, we can help you with this, right, guys?", - the guy looked at his friends and laughed, they also took up his initiative.

Unpleasant laughter causes a headache, for a second you thought that you could just give up, that this is not happening to you and it has gone too far.

"Take your hands off!!", - pushing him away from you with a sharp jerk, you jumped back a couple of steps.

The guy staggered, but stood on his feet, although an unpleasant aching pain spread over his chest, which caused his cheerful mood to instantly evaporate, giving way to anger, - "Catch this bitch."

After these words, you immediately slipped back into the narrow alley along which you came, when the others ran after you. Out of the corner of your ear, you heard threats flying after you. You ran, running out of strength until you found an even narrower alley with containers behind which you could hide.

Footsteps and voices echoed past your shelter, sweat broke out on your face, and your legs were buzzing because of the heavy load, but you were still sitting stiffly on the cold, dirty asphalt, unable to move and breathe calmly.

But the panic again covered you when the steps were approaching in your direction, and the shadow fell on the wall of the building opposite. But you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the tall figure of a guy you already know. It seems that for the first time you were happy to see him.

"Are you okay?", - an excited expression appeared on his face as he looked you up and down and held out his hand to help you up.

"Yes, I was just a little scared...", - you accepted the help and got up on your numb legs, brushing off your clothes from the dirt, - "Thank you for...oh...you have blood on your cheek", - you didn't understand why you were worried about him, seeing only a small scratch on his face, but...from this angle, you noted that your pursuer was very cute, which made your cheeks turn pink.

"Hmm?", - passing his hand over his cheek, he looked at his fingers, which really had smeared blood on them, but..- "It's not mine", - the guy smiled gently, which caused you confusion, but you were calm.

"Do you see how many problems there are just because you didn't agree to my offer?", - a light chuckle eased the tension between the two of you as he held out his hand to you again, - "So can I give you a ride?"

Confused, even more, you looked uncertainly into his eyes and, not seeing the danger, carefully put your hand in his, - "I think...yes."

Rindou

"I think it's starting to rain...", - a familiar voice drawled thoughtfully to your's right, while you were standing at the intersection and was waiting for the green light.

From surprise, you turned around and shuddered – in the crowd of people waiting for the signal, there was him - a guy with blond hair and a very ordinary sharp face. The purple eyes shine a little, brazenly looking at your's face. Without turning around, he opens his umbrella right at the moment when the first thunderclap sounds somewhere in the distance.

"Aren't you afraid of getting wet?", - It became obvious that this guy was talking to you, taking a light step past those standing around.

"No", - you whisper, taking a step back.

Suddenly, a beep is heard behind him. The cars on the road freeze, and the flow of people rushes forward, carrying you away. Your thoughts were confused as your legs desperately carried you somewhere ahead. You had already passed the crossing, but something made you turn around. Your heart stopped for a moment, then began to pound wildly – you saw him among the huge mass of heads. His blond, disheveled hair shone like the sun from under a black umbrella. It seems that he also noticed you – a friendly smile appeared on his face. Lifting his umbrella, he waved vigorously at you with his free hand.

This innocent gesture caused a wave of icy goosebumps to run down your back, and you hurried to escape from a crowded place to some courtyards.

You ran for a long time, ragged breath coming out of your mouth until the strength left you, and you stopped. You needed to catch your breath. The rain was beating harder and harder on your head. Your hair and clothes were soaked through

"You'll catch a cold if you keep running like this," - he suddenly heard very close to your ear.

You jumped on the spot and turned around. It's him again! And how does he manage to catch up with you, while maintaining an absolutely calm appearance?..

The guy came closer, taking advantage of your confusion. He held out his hand. Cold…

His angular hand slid onto your forearm and, moving up, pulled uncomfortably on your wet sleeve.

"What do you want from me?...", - you whispered very softly. Your voice was hoarse, frightened. You were shaking all over.

A real hurricane of thoughts was spinning in your head. The first meeting was on a clear evening, a sweet, promising conversation. When did everything go wrong? Now he was following your constantly. At first, he seemed unobtrusive and courteous – he met you, accompany you through dangerous streets to the house. But...after one of the meetings, everything changed. Or not?

"I just want to walk you home", - as always, he smiled warmly with his simple smile, as if he did not understand how creepy he looks now, in their "accidental" meeting. - "Yes, and this rain is so not at the right time. And I see you don't take an umbrella…"

"Fuck off already!", - you screamed and started running again, leaving the frightening interlocutor in slight confusion.

The rain was falling harder and harder, blurring the view with a solid wall. Where did you run to? You didn't care anymore. A straight section, a turn, another turn, a wide street that you run diagonally, ignoring the indignant shouts in the back. The lights of the signs and windows dance around you. Everything merges into a strange nightmare, where bright colors are just decorations. Your heart continues to pound wildly, the noise of blood in your ears is deafening.

That's when you bump into someone's thick carcass. An elastic blow throws you to the wet asphalt. Your hands are burning with pain, and you finally come to your senses.

You were now sitting in some dark alley, where neither lonely windows nor the black doors of various eateries do not go out.

A moment of confusion.

"S-sorry", - you rise, leaning on a skinned palm. It stings. – "I just…"

"Are you lost, beautiful?" - A high-pitched adult voice was heard.

You lookup. In front of you is a heavy man significantly exceeding you in height. He chuckles slightly as he looks at you. And now he was reaching out to you

"Let me examine your hands...", - a hard grip shackles your right wrist, pulls forward.

You are overwhelmed by panic, you can't resist it, are absolutely tired. From despair and pain, you began to howl softly.

"Well, well", - the man encouraged you, smiling maliciously, continuing to pull you to him. – "There's nothing terrible here, dear, now I'll help you get rid of the pain…"

The other hand was also close to your body. It seemed that something irreparable was about to happen.

"Don't...please let me go!", - you whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut in a fit of hopelessness.

And then something happened.

You opened one eye, unable to restrain a strange curiosity. The man let go of your hand, and all his attention was now focused on the guy standing almost between them. With one hand he continued to squeeze the umbrella, the water from which was just trickling down the rough man's neck, and with the other, he was squeezing his fat wrist.

"I think they told you to let go," - he said seriously, looking straight into the small, surprising beady eyes.

"What?", - that's all the boar said, after which he tried to crush the stranger with his mass, stepping forward.

What happened next, you remembered vaguely. More precisely, you just didn't have time to remember exactly what happened. The guy only smiled rapaciously at the fat man's movement, after which he made several blows so fast that you simply did not catch them all. Just sharp shadows under the light of a lone lantern suddenly crashed into a thick carcass. The pig didn't even say anything, just fell back, collapsing on the garbage bags against the wall.

Realizing that it was all over, you turned her gaze to your pursuer and were amazed. He stood there, absolutely calm, smiling affably and holding out his hand to her.

"It's dangerous to go home alone. Can I walk you out?"

A lump rose in your throat, but you immediately overcame herself and took the stranger by the hand. - "Yes, I think I should agree"

You smiled sweetly back at him, then obediently stood under a wide umbrella, and together you moved to the exit of the alley.

[alessia-richards]

Backstory, Part 2

Journey wasn’t sure how long she and her mother had been driving. She watched the sky turn from blue to black, the fields of crops flanking the road had been traded for thick trees that blocked any view within their depths. Journey shifted in the backseat that seemed to swallow her whole. The seat belt of the old car was digging into her neck. She was tired and hungry, the long drive was hard for anyone, especially a four year old who had abruptly been forced out of her home. “Mummy?” she moaned anxiously, “Are we there yet? I’m tired and hungry.” 

After Journey shouted at her mother several times, the frightened woman in the front seat gasped and looked at the child’s silhouette in the backseat. The darkness hindered her from seeing her properly unless a streetlight gleamed through the windows as they passed. “Oh,” Sunshine said in a soft voice, feigning happiness. “I told you, love,” she paused as she gripped the steering wheel tighter. “We’re going to see Valley. ‘Member her?” 

“Valley,” said Journey as she thought very hard to try and place the name with a face. It was difficult. They moved a lot and her mom had many friends. “I don’t know,” she answered, looking out the window. “I’m hungry.” 

“I’ll stop soon,” Sunshine promised, continuing down the winding road. 

It felt like forever before the rundown car came to a stop in front of a convenience store that was just as rundown. The windows were decorated with faded advertisements. The marquee that sat on top of the building flickered weakly, unable to hold its light for more than a few seconds at a time. 

“Alright, pet,” whispered Sunshine as she turned in the front seat to look at the child. “I’m gonna run in very quickly and grab us a few snacks. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone, okay?” 

“Don’t leave me,” wailed Journey, shaking her head feebly. “It’s too dark. Please let me come!” 

Sunshine looked around at the deserted parking lot. There was only one other car—probably the attendant’s. “Alright,” she said hesitantly. “But we must hurry!” 

A minute later, the two were inside the store. The man behind the counter watched them intently, as if they were going to try and steal from him. Journey’s tiny hand thumbed across the line of candies waiting for her to find something that appealed to her. She found a chocolate bar in yellow paper. It looked good. Around the corner and up the other aisle she did the same thing with the chips. Her mother was at the coolers, choosing out beverages for them before she came around to meet her daughter. “You ready?” she asked, before her eyes drifted towards the worker who was hiding behind the bulletproof shield, his back was to her and he was on the phone. 

Sunshine was nervous, leading her daughter up to the counter. She laid their snacks on the surface, her hands were shaking. “Sir, we’re ready,” she said in hopefully a pleasant voice. He didn’t come or even acknowledge her. “Sir?” she said again, a bit more urgently. 

And that’s when she saw the small television hidden in the corner of his station. Paid programming was running, but above the box, there were wanted flyers of criminals and ads for missing children. She saw the one for Journey and she panicked. She scooped up the supplies in her arms and told the child to follow her. “Let’s go,” she said sternly and told Journey to be quiet when she asked about paying. 

Sunshine threw the food into the backseat through the open window. Journey barely got her door shut before her mom was reversing the car. “Wait, my seatbelt!” she tried to insist, but Sunshine kept going, flooring it out of the parking lot. “Mummy? What’s wrong? Why did we steal that food? Why are you rushing?” 

Sunshine was silent for a few minutes, she kept looking out the rear view window like a mad woman. When it was clear that no one was following her, she exhaled and spoke more gently to Journey. “It’s alright, love. I’m sorry. He was a bad man. He had a gun. I had to get you away from him. Rest now, please? Close your eyes and try to sleep.” 

As soon as Journey was asleep, Sunshine pulled into a trailer park and found a vehicle.. She hot wired it and then put all of their belongings in the new car, including the snacks. Once everything else was there, she grabbed the sleeping child and gently laid her down on the back seat, trying not to wake her. 

The next morning, the sun warmed the car quickly. It was hot. The AC in the car was horrible, it just blew out warm air on them. Soon, Journey was awake. Her hair was sticking to her neck, she was sweating. “Mummy?” she said sleepily and then noticed they were in a new car. “Whose car is this?” 

Sunshine smiled at the child through the rear view mirror. “It’s ours. Do you like it?” 

Journey rubbed her sleepy eyes and sat up straight. “Are we there yet?” she said miserably. 

“Almost, my love. Almost.” 

Sunshine was right. Within half an hour, the large Buick turned onto a gravel road. It was bumpy and long. The car bobbed through the potholes and steep hills before it finally turned smoother, a grassy field greeted them. In the distance, there were a few RVs and lots of tents. People were scattered and children played beneath a tree. Sunshine stopped the vehicle and stepped out of it, holding the door close to her body as she searched the faces. A few moments later, a red-haired woman started towards them. She wore a floral dress much like Sunshine’s. 

“Oh, Mummy!” said Journey happily, “I remember her! I remember Valley!” 

“That’s good, baby,” Sunshine said distractedly and shut the door. She opened the back door and rolled up the window. “Stay here for just a moment.” 

Sunshine ran through the field until she reached Valley, they embraced before pulling apart to talk. Every few moments, they looked towards the car and Journey who sat patiently, waiting for her mom. 

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​, @multiyfandomgirl40​ ,  @lovelymischief​ , @rami-malek-trash​ , @dazzlingseb​, @avgravy​ , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​, @alanathedeer​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ 

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

[macnevercries]

Hurt me? You could never (Kirishima x Plus F!reader)

Warnings- face riding, oral(receiving), plus sized reader, female pronouns/body, alcohol use, (slight dub con?)

Word Count- 2k

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The sway of the music was heavy as you moved with it, lost in a mob of people. Your hips circled drunkenly, dancing the night away in a pit of sweaty people enjoying themselves as much as you. As the room rolled and jolted you started feeling hot, the sudden flashes of temperature overwhelming you. You started to tug at your top, trying to get it off to relieve yourself of the burning sensation in your body. The fabric clung to your skin and you started getting angry. Just as the shirt started to give way it was tugged back down by a pair of large hands. You almost screamed in annoyance, turning around to see your boyfriend standing behind you, holding your drinks and trying to have you keep your dignity. Your annoyance turned to a soft smile, then a giddy laugh when you spotted the alcohol. Swiping towards the drink in his hand, you almost feel over with the motion. Kirishima dragged the cup away from you, steadying you on his muscular arm.

“I think that’s enough for tonight sweetheart” Kirishima consoled you, smiling at your cute pout.

“Kiri it’s sooooo hot in here, help me cool down” you mumbled, slumping into his chest. A deep chuckle erupted from him, your childish antics humourous.

“Were gonna go home now, okay babes? He asked, pulling you up into his arms, discarding the drinks in the nearest trash can. You mumbled an okay as he pulled you towards the exit, the blaring sounds of yelling and bass fading the further you got from the crowd. Kirishima nodded at the bouncer as you exited the club, pushing the heavy door open and out into the dark rainy parking lot. Clubbing was fun for you two but somehow it always ended in him taking care of you. Your weight had fluctuated over the years but you were always a little fuller than the other girls you knew. Despite your weight, you could not hold your alcohol. Kirishima had seen your drunken state many times and while it could be a hassle, he loved the way your soft body clung to him, you were a needy drunk.

 The rain soaked through your white top, exposing the pink Lacey bra you were wearing. Kirishima felt his pants tighten a little, looking at you in the rain, smiling brightly and lighting up his world. You had always shined so bright to him, even on your worst days. Kirishima ushered you into the car, leaning over your full breasts to buckle you in. He held in a breath at the touch, he could sense you sobering up and he was definitely in the mood. He got in the drivers seat and started the car, handing you some water to sip on for the drive home. For 15 minutes Kirishima was silent, only occasionally looking over at you to check and make sure you were fine. Every time he peeked at you and you had your lips wrapped around the straw of the water bottle he gulped, speeding up slightly, his anticipation building from within.

When you guys pull up to your shared home the red haired man practically runs around the car to open your door. He offers to help you walk but you’re almost sober now from all of the water you drink. Kirishima walks behind you up the driveway and steps to the door, watching the way your hips sway in your skin-tight clothes. Kirishima’s love had boosted your confidence a lot since you guys started dating and he was glad because tight clothes were definitely a blessing to his eyes. He had always had a thing for bigger girls, your soft figure brought him comfort when his own body and quirk wouldn’t allow it. Taking off your shoes at the entryway and locking the door, you headed to the bathroom to use it before slumping on the couch. The clock on the wall read 2am, it was too late to be awake. You leaned your head down on the pillows, resting your eyes momentarily. The catnap did not last long because after around two minutes you felt heavy gaze scanning your body. 

Sure enough when you opened your eyes, Kirishima was in front of you, gazing at you lovingly with half lidded eyes. Your top clung to your chest in all the right ways and the way you were laying accentuated your curves, to Kirishima you look delicious. Kirishima started towards you, crawling onto the couch beside you and snuggling himself between your thick legs, having his head rest on your plush chest. The slow up and down of your breathing both calmed him down and spurred him on more. You look at his flustered face, amused at how heated he was. Had you done something while you were drunk? Pushing that thought aside you accepted Kirishima, softly petting his head and running your fingers through his hair, making him sigh. His barely audible mumbles of praise and ‘I love you’ made you smile. He buried his face into your chest as you rubbed away his tension. 

Slowly he tugged at the neck of your shirt, pulling it down slightly so he could kiss up your collarbone. His kisses made you shiver, you could feel the lust and need oozing out of him. He rotated so that you were on top on him, pressed against him in the most tantalizing way. His lips traveled up your neck and your jaw until they reached your lips. He met you with a passionate kiss, hungry and desperate. He hiked your thighs around his waist, standing up and walking towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. No matter how heavy you were, Kirishima was stronger. He never had an issue lifting you and the way he did it made it seem so easy. 

He set you down on the bed and then crawled around you so that he was laying down behind you. You glanced back at him questioningly but the look on his face frightened you. He had a lazy grin and a mischievous glint in his eye, something enjoyable on his mind. 

“What is it Kiri?” you asked hesitantly, afraid of what you were about to find out. At your question he grinned wider, his sharp teeth sparkling in the dimly lit room. He pulled you close to him and leaned into your ear

“I want you to ride my face” he purred, happy with his idea. At his words you turned beet red, shaking your head aggressively and backing up slightly. This was definitely not what you expected. He pouted at your discontent with his idea.

“Baby please, you would look so good on top of me and you taste so good. God I want you in my mouth” He assured you, tugging you closer to him again.

“What if I hurt you? Eiji you know I’m too big for this.” you sighed, disappointed too. Maybe in a different scenario but this could never happen.

“Hurt me?” he laughed. Your eyes popped open, shocked by his change in demeanor. 

“Do you know what I would give to suffocate in these thighs?” he asked, squeezing your leg with love, but his grip was a little hard. 

“Just get on top of my face, if it doesn't work then we’ll stop, I promise” he reassured, stroking your back and coaxing you on top on him. Your will broke at his words, after all his idea was appetizing to you too. You took your pants off, tossing them in a far corner before situating yourself on the red head’s shoulders. He grabbed the back of your thighs, drawing you closer to his face. You couldn't help but turn away, despite the number of times you guys have had sex, Kiri’s pure love and devotion to you made you squirm. 

He licked a wet stripe up your panties suddenly, causing you to gasp. On instinct, your hips rutted back into his face and he chuckled, you muttered apologies, embarrassed by your lack of composure, You went to climb off of him, ready to go hide away but not before Kirishima could grab your hips with a bruising grip. Your head snapped back in his direction.

“You're not going anywhere kitten, we haven't even started.” He pulled your panties to the side and the cold air against your exposed core made you shiver. At the sight of your glistening cunt he licked his lips and got to work.

His tongue pressed flat against your cunt, licking heated and hungry stripes up you. He’d go down to tease your entrance and then up to circle your clit, sucking lightly and grazing it with his teeth. The pattern he created left you on a rollercoaster of feelings, moaning, mewling and dragging yourself against his face. Every time your hips stuttered and you got close he’d pull away to focus somewhere else. You whined, aggravated by his teasing. Some time passed and he kept his rhythm, never letting you finish. By now you were fuming, boiling over with rage.

“Eiji what the fuck” you spat when he changed stopped again for the umpth time. He looked up at you with the most innocent eyes, trying to convey his confusion with his mouth still buried in you.

“Why won’t you let me finish? I want to cum, please Eiji, make me cum” You purred. If he was gonna be like this then you would play his game. At your words something sparked in his eyes. His hips rutted up from the bed, your affect washing over his entire body. He curled one of his hands away from your thigh and prodded your entrance with his thick fingers. Slipping two in easily he watched in awe as emotions flashed past your eyes and you ground yourself down onto them.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my fingers, just like that baby” He murmured, causing you to go faster. He attached his lips to your clit, sucking with all of his might. His tongue flicked over your sensitive bud, teeth grazing it. His name flowed from your mouth as you humped down onto him, trying to snap the tightly wound coil that has been building up since you guys began. He pushed his fingers in a little deeper, twisting them and curling them right where you wanted him. This sent you flying over the edge, cussing and moaning as your orgasm hit you like a bus. He coaxed you through it, slowing his attack and letting you come down gently.

You slide off of his face, laying down in the bed beside him, still panting. Rolling over on your side, you nuzzle in his neck, placing your hand on his broad chest and basking in your post-orgasm glow. A nice familiar haze settled over you, happiness and lust blurring together.

“Thank you Eiji, that was amazing.” you breathed. He laughed lightly when he turned to you, a pleased expression on your face. 

“Of course, I don’t know who enjoyed it more, me or you.” He smiled, fond thoughts of you racing his mind. You kiss his neck, flitting around and placing butterfly pecks all over him. He giggles at your antics, rubbing your back encouragingly. 

“I love you, you know that right?” he asked, kissing your forehead and tilting your chin up so you would meet his eyes. You beamed up at him.

“I love you too”

[sorryjustafangirl]

seattle worries

a/n: it was about time i wrote for the toothless love of our lives mr erik johnson. im still mad at him for waiving his nmc even though people saw it coming so i wrote this while at work and because im in a slump. enjoy. gender neutral reader

pairing: erik johnson x reader

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: mentions of pandemic, a few swears, expansion draft

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! this lovely gif is not mine! credit to the wonderful gif-maker

You and Erik had been dating for about 2 years now and things could not have been better. The two of you had been set up by a mutual friend after the Avalanche were eliminated from playoff contention. EJ was a natural charmer and swept you off your feet, despite any nerves he felt that night.

Then a pandemic hit and Erik decided that you should move in. In case we have to repopulate the Earth, you know, he joked, but he was serious about his proposition. Your friends all gave you skepticism when you accepted; after all, you were moving in with a man, a professional athlete at that, after less than a year of dating. But you knew it was the right decision. Even when Erik went to the Edmonton bubble, you never felt lonely because you were in the space you shared with him, the space you knew he’d come back to.

Now, a year later and your relationship had been through injuries, an infectious disease, and hectic NHL life. You honestly thought nothing could break you.

Until now.

You were seething. How couldn’t he have told you? Sure, he could be a dumbass sometimes but he’d have to be a whole ‘nother kind of stupid to think you wouldn’t find out.

The thud of his hockey bag and the clang of his keys hitting the trinket dish on the hall table shook you from your thoughts. He walked into the kitchen, where you stood with your hands gripping the counter, with a smile on his face that quickly disappeared when he saw the scowl on your face.

“Hey baby…” His voice was hesitant, obviously testing the waters.

“How could you not tell me?” Your eyes were set, your jaw hard, and you could feel the tension in your shoulders. He sighed but didn’t say anything. “How could you not tell me you waived your no movement clause Erik? I found out from fucking SportsNet!”

“Look, I was going to tell you-”

“When?! You couldn’t find a good time to talk about how you might throw away your life here in the past two months?!”

“That’s not fair! No one ever said anything about throwing my life here away.” His voice raised but you didn’t back down, not with the way your cheeks were hot with anger.

“Oh, so you just expect me to drop my life here to go live in Seattle? Because your career is more important than mine?”

“I never said that! God, I hate it when you put words in my mouth!”

“Well, I hate it when my boyfriend doesn’t consult me on something that affects us both!”

“Why are you so angry about this? Nothing’s happened yet, they might not even take me!”

You scoffed at him, but it came out breathy because of the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m upset because it feels like you aren’t even considering us in your career. Like you don’t care how this affects me too. Like you don’t even notice you’re throwing us away.” Your voice cracked at the end, tears falling from your eyes. You turned away from Erik in an attempt to hide your emotions but he knew. He knew from the way you hunched your shoulders and the way you shut your eyes, you were crying.

Slowly, he came towards you, his step gentle. His arms around you were like glass until you clung to his shirt; then they became like a warm blanket- all encompassing and familiar. Sobs racked through your body and he traced his hand up and down your back. He placed a kiss on the top of your head lightly before smoothing your hair, trying to soothe you. When you finally calmed down, with only hiccups left, he took your face in his hands, wiping away the tear stains off your cheeks.

“Who said anything about me throwing us away? Hmm?” He spoke softly as if he was trying not to frighten a calf. When you didn’t answer him or meet his eyes, he bent down to your level, meeting your weary eyes and repeated his question. When you stayed silent, he kissed your forehead before placing his own against yours.

“I’m not throwing us away, okay? I’m not. Even if you think I am, I promise you I’m not. You’re stuck with me, okay? You got it? I’m not leaving you,”

“But what if Seattle-”

“If. If, baby. It’s not set in stone, it’s an if. A possibility. Joe doesn’t even think they’ll take me. Waiving my contract meant they could protect another D. I haven’t played in practically a season, Seattle probably won’t want me.”

“Probably. Meaning there’s a chance they do want you,”

“There’s also a chance I get hit with a car tomorrow, or that it starts snowing in July.” When that didn’t crack a smile from you, he sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen and I wish I did and I wish I could guarantee I stay here but I can’t. But I can guarantee that I’m not giving up on us, even if I go somewhere else,” He ended with a soft smile but furrowed his eyebrows when he saw your eyes go hard again.

“So you’d still expect me to go with you then?” You broke away from his embrace. “To pack up everything I’ve ever known just because you waived your contract?” You shook your head and started off towards your bedroom.

“What, no! No! Baby, c’mon,” He grabbed your hand and turned you to face him. “I don’t expect you to change your whole life for me. I know your job and your friends and your life here is important to you. But I do expect you to have a little bit more faith in me, in us, that we’d figure it out.” He sighed again and dropped your hand to run his hands through his hair.

“Look, hypothetically, hypothetically, if Seattle took me, I only have a year left on my contract. After that, I can decide where I want to go. So it’d be one year, not even, just one season where we’d have to do long distance if you don’t want to move. We could do that. I know we could. And… I’m not as young as I used to be. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to play. And so when that day comes, I can be wherever you are. I don’t care if it’s Milwaukee, Hawaii, Seattle, or here. I want to be wherever you are, even if it means we do 8 months apart. I’ll do 8 months apart if it means the rest of our lives together.”

The two of you stood there in the hallway, silent, contemplating what was said. Even though you had lived together for a year now, this was your first major fight. And your first real glimpse into your future. Sure, you’d mentioned in passing getting a dog or a house with an acreage for his horses, but it was all in passing. EJ was a joker and although he makes you laugh like no other, he isn’t the kind of guy to get serious too often.

“You want forever with me?”

“Fuck yeah, baby. You’re it for me. And you have for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were waiving your clause?” You were pleading with him at this point, your eyes searching his for any sort of answer.

“I didn’t want you to freak out, which based on tonight, was fair enough on my end. And seriously, Joe doesn’t think they’ll take me. I’m old and injury prone. But Sammy isn’t. And we need Sammy. It was for the good of the team. And if I told you, you would’ve tried to talk me out of it.” He shrugged. “But I’d already made up my mind.” He reached out to take your hands again, his thumbs rubbing your thumb knuckles. “It wasn’t against you. I didn’t tell anyone I was waiving it until it was done,” You were silent as he continued to caress your hands.

“I want forever with you too, you know?”

His eyes sifted and his signature goofy grin made its way into his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You looked up at him and squeezed his hands. “Even when you’re being stupid and leave me in the dark,”

“Well then I’m a very lucky man,” He pressed his lips to your cheek in a sloppy kiss which pulled a smile from you. His smile grew wider in triumph. “There’s the smile I know and love. C’mon, let’s go to bed, yeah?” You nodded and kept your hands intertwined as he led you to the bedroom. The two of you slowly got ready for bed, EJ slipping under the covers first. He opened the blanket for you, and you turned off the light before finding you spot cuddled into his side, your head resting on his chest. His hand ran over your hair, whether to soothe you or him, you weren’t sure.

“I love you. And nothing, not even Seattle, will ever change that.” He whispered into the dark room.

“I know.” You pressed a light kiss to his chest and laid your head back down. “I love you too.”

“Whatever happens, it’s me and you babe. I promise.” He kissed the top of your head and slowly you both fell asleep, his promise of the future lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

let me know what you think! thanks for reading!

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[robbybarnes]

~DUSKWOOD~

Hold My Hand - part 9

Like a fury the two mysterious men threw themselves on MC, who, however, assisted by the dense smoke of the grenades, dodged them and went outside. She ran at breakneck speed to Alan's car and as she had seen only in movies, she jumped the trunk of the car and hid behind it

MC: "Holy shit, it worked!"

The two men came outside and, while the first tried to figure out where MC had gone, the other stopped outside the door. he leaned forward and put his hands on his legs coughing violently.

??: "Where are you?"

Of course, as if MC could have answered 'Oh, sorry, I'm here behind the car.'. Anyway he was advancing dangerously towards the car and would eventually notice her. She didn't know what to do, but then the situation changed. Dan had gone out and put the gun to the neck of the coughing kidnapper.

D: "Hey, Beauty. Why don't you turn slowly and put your weapon on the ground, before I make a Beast omelette?"

The man slowly turned around as he watched Dan point his weapon at his partner. However, instead of doing as he had been 'kindly' asked, he pointed his weapon at partner and before Dan could do anything, a shot went off and his hostage collapsed to the ground lifeless.

D: "What the fuck!"

Then the enemy pointed his weapon at Dan and began firing a barrage of endless bullets, fortunately missing the target. Dan was a big man, but he had some really remarkable reflexes. MC saw him pull back and throw himself into the house through the front door. The girl breathed a sigh of relief knowing that her friend was safe, but unfortunately there was still a big problem.

??: "Get out. NOW!"

MC tried to quickly think of another solution. Since the man was slowly advancing against the car that was her hiding place, it was clear that he understood that she was hiding there. She could buy some time and hope Dan would regroup to help her, but honestly she got tired of that situation so she stepped out of her hiding place, facing the masked man in front of her.

MC: "With all the noise you have made, I am surprised that no one in the neighborhood has yet called the authorities. But I wouldn't be so quiet if I were you."

??: "We put them all to sleep. Can't you hear them snoring?"

MC: "...that's...clever."

??: "Narcotic bullets. But they work little if you hit the bulletproof vest. Stand up Mike, we have a mission to complete."

The man MC believed to be dead, got up barely shaking his head. He approached his friend lowering his weapon and instead pulled out handcuffs from his pockets.

MC: "Oh right you're here to kidnap me. Uhm, nope. I pass."

??: "You're really starting to get on my nerves..."

MC: "You know? That's exactly what my Boss said last week. Are you two related?"

??: "You little-"

His friend blocked him by the arm when he saw him snap forward towards MC.

Mike: "Ehi, ehi! She's just messing with you. Let's just take her!"

The two snapped at her and MC turned to the street and began to run.

MC: "No! No! Bad dogs!"

The problem was that she didn't know the streets of Duskwood very well, so she had no idea where she was going. But she was much faster than them. She turned right straight to the main road and began to see cars passing by. She thought of stopping one and asking for help, but her two pursuers would probably return to Jessy's house. They would take her friends hostage and the situation would return to the way it was before.

??: "You can't run forever!"

At that precise moment MC stopped, blocked by two cars that had nailed right in front of her. Panting she looked frightened at the two vehicles trying to figure out what to do, but then the doors opened.

L: "Looks like problems always finds you!"

H:"You shouldn't speak since most of the time you are the cause of her problems."

C: "Behind you MC!"

MC turned around and the two men were now a few steps away from her, completely oblivious to the presence of the newcomers. They would have captured her if another person had not come to save the situation. A black motorcycle arrived stopping right between her and the two pursuers. The driver turned off the engine and took off his helmet smiling at the two armed men.

T: "I hope you don't mind if I invited some friends."

MC looked in the direction Thomas had come from and saw flashing blue lights approaching, followed by the familiar sound of police sirens. The two enemies seemed for a moment to think about what to do, but in the end they turned around and ran away.

??: "That's not the end MC!"

MC saw them disappear around a corner. Luckily they didn't seem interested in returning to Jessy's house, so she breathed a sigh of relief. She looked at her friends and shook her head.

MC: "How the hell..."

L: "You're te only one that could run away from two armed men in the middle of a new city without knowing your way."

H: "Oh come on Lilli. You did the same thing in Spain with that guy."

L: "Fair point. But he had a knife and he wanted to rob me."

MC: "Uhm...hello? How did you know it was me?"

C: "Jessy took a picture of you back in the Dare House without you knowing...then she sent it in the Group Chat."

MC: "I guess i should thank her..."

T: "Ehy, are you okay? You hurt?"

MC: "I'm fine, but we have to go back to Jessy and the others. I think Alan is hurt."

L: "And no 'Hi, finally we can see each other!'..."

H: "Lilly, this isn't the best time for celebrate. We'll do it, but first the important things..."

T: "I'll go there, you follow me with the car."

MC: "Thomas, wait! What about the cops?"

C: "Oh right. That's just a coincidence I think. There were cops already in front of the museum. Apparently there is an outdoor demonstration and since the works of art are very valuable, they involved law enforcement."

H: "We got lucky."

MC frowned in confusion but then burst out laughing. Meanwhile, Thomas had put his helmet back on and roaring the engine had started at full speed towards Jessy's house. After a few minutes, all four of them entered the cars and went to their friends.

When MC got out of Cleo's car, he saw Dan and Thomas talking in the driveway and approached.

MC: "Here's the coolest bodyguard ever. You okay?"

D: "And here's the fastest girl alive. What the hell do your parents feed you with? Lightningbolts?"

MC: "Are you saying I'm The Flash?"

D: "Who?"

T: "Really? You know Batman and Superman but not Flash? How disappointing..."

J: "Oh! I'm done! Do whatever you want you stupid stubborn Giraffe!"

Jessy comes out of the house slamming her feet to the ground as she screamed furiously.

C: "Whoa Jessy, what's going on?"

MC: "...I have a hunch..."

She passed Jessy and entered the house, finding it not in the best condition. Some furniture was burned, probably as a result of the explosion of smoke grenades. Others were intact, but she had no idea how Jessy would open them, as all the objects inside them had probably fallen against the doors. She entered the living room and not finding Alan she headed for the only direction from which she heard sounds. The kitchen. She walked in and saw Alan in front of the sink wetting a patch and cleaning up his forehead.

A: "I said I'm fine Jessy!"

He turned around, bent slightly forward and hissing in pain. As soon as he saw that was not Jessy, he opened his eyes wide in surprise.

A: "God, you're good."

MC: "Better than you from what i can see."

A: "It's...nothing. I think one of them was a wrestler in another life..."

MC: "Or maybe you're better at guns than at punching. Rather, why do you have a grenade launcher in the back of your car?"

A: "Crazy people requires crazy means."

He laughed and then froze to feel his left side and hiss again.

MC: "I think you need a doctor."

A: "Not until I have my Sarah back. I'll be good."

At that very moment Dan entered the kitchen with a long glance at Alan. Then he made a gesture to MC asking her to follow him. She looked at Alan to make sure he was okay and when he nodded she turned around and followed her friend.

D: "You know right that we still need his help with the Mayor?"

MC: "Of course I know, but he needs some time to...recharge. In the meantime we need to find out who that person tied up was. To be sure if it was Jake."

D: "Wait, why? You have doubts? The wonder twins that came here, they did to take you. And what could have been the point? To make Hackerman speak. Cause probably he didn't till now and they know that torturing him was probably pointless. They need you to make him talk."

MC: "Maybe...but what we need to find is what they want him to tell them."

D: "I bet it's that thing...Dedalus?"

MC: "You said it wasn't from Jake..."

At that moment Thomas also entered the house, followed by Lilly.

T: "I think we were wrong. That's what I was telling Dan outside before."

D: "Where are the girls?"

T: "I sent them to Phil. He's going to take them safe until we find something to help Jake. Then we'll regroup."

D: "A bit weird, but I'm glad that asshole decided to do something nice for once."

T: "...actually I might have paid him."

D: "That explains a lot..."

L: "Ehi, focus! Tommy might be right on this. Just think about it. We assumed that the app was some sort of spying device they used to send me the pictures and the recording. And we also assumed that the purpose of that was to scare us and let us know they have Jake...but what if that was a 'parachute'."

MC: "A what now?"

T: "Like a lifesaver. A program that is activated only in case Jake is in serious danger."

MC: "But...it's not like Nymos, it's not helping us. It just gave us little clues and honestly I feel a little lost."

L: "Just like a Dedalus."

The three confused looked at each other without understanding, until Alan entered the living room sighing.

A: "Daedalo or Dedalus, in ancient Greek, is a character in Greek mythology. Great architect, sculptor and inventor, best known for being the builder of the famous Minotaur's labyrinth in Crete. Precisely because of this last fact, his name is still used today as a synonym for 'labyrinth'."

D: "How do you know this stuff?"

A: "I went to school..."

D: "Pff...Nerd..."

MC: "This makes sense, but why they want it?"

A: "Well the labyrinth was a great structure built for as an offer to Gods but it was used for many things. Like to protect humans from beasts or monsters. The most important, though, is to take the Minotaur inside. He's the bastard son of a God and he's not a good guy. Most of the time Gods used the labyrinth as punishment for those who had offended them. The ways out were known only to Daedalus who always kept the secret. Eventually people either died of hunger, thirst and fatigue, or at the hands of the Minotaur."

MC had an enlightenment and looked at Alan worried.

MC: "So, Jake used Dedalus to keep the Minotaur from wrong hands. That's what they wants."

T: "Now we just have to figure out what it is, where to find it and how bad this Minotaur is."

[procrastinatorimagines]

Evidence

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: shooting

Word Count: 1,615

Request:  Hi ! Can you do a jay halstead × reader where jay and y/n are dating secretly but one night jay left a hickey on y/n necks and on the next day y/n try to cover it up before work but can't and the rest of the intelligence team spot it and jay blush but she makes up a story but the intelligence team know and y/n and jay come clean and tell the rest of the team they are together ❤ thank you

All in all, you thought you’d done pretty well, giving your neck one last look in your rearview mirror before turning on the ignition and heading to the 21st. 

Jay had left your place early, neither of you arriving at work at the same time so as to not raise suspicions, so he’d been heading out the door when you’d finally gotten out of bed, already driving away by the time you spotted the hickey on your neck in your bedroom mirror. 

You were not impressed to say the least, what part of a secret relationship had escaped his mind? With an annoyed groan you got to work covering it up the best you could, applying foundation more skillfully than you’d expected as you got ready for work.

There would be time for words later. 

You were still driving in when the call came over the radio, shooting nearby your location with officers in need of backup, one down. Quickly throwing on your lights you expertly did a u-turn and headed back up the street you’d just passed, noticing people running for covering in the opposite direction to where you were going, frightened with their heads down.

It didn’t take long to stop the suspect, mask over his head and gun waving about in his hands as he shot behind him with reckless abandon at the uniformed officer in pursuit. 

Slamming on your brakes you dove out of your vehicle, gun out and ready to engage. “Hey!” You called, diverting his attention from the other officers as his gun swung in your direction, diving behind a nearby car just as the bullets began to fly. 

You poked your head up after a moment, getting off a shot before he realised the odds weren’t in his favour and took off into the garden of the car behind him. Cursing you slid over the bonnet of the car you were behind. 

“I’ll get him, you get your partner!” You told the officer, who nodded gratefully and ran back to his fallen colleague, his led badly bleeding.

“This is 50 21 Foxtrot responding to the 10 1 on West 47th, I’m on the tail of an armed offender fleeing the scene of the shooting making his way South-” you paused, a little breathless as you hopped a fence and quickly dived to the side, narrowly avoiding another bullet as the offender kept running. You gave your most apologetic look to the women screaming in the garden you’d just entered but kept going, you couldn’t stop now - “through the neighbouring gardens, we should be coming out onto West 48th soon.” 

The sound of cars was getting louder as you ran, a tall fence looking like it separated the two of you and the main road as the offender opened for a narrow side path out onto the street. 

You were gaining on him fast as he tried to climb over it, grabbing his coat and pulling him down. His gun fell from his hand and you kicked it away as he scrambled after it, punching him hard in the jaw as he turned back to lash out at you.

“Stay down,” you ordered breathlessly, gun out and aimed square in his direction as the gate opened behind you, back up coming through. “You have the right to remain silent...” you relayed, getting out a pair of cuffs as you read him his rights and passed him off to the unis to bring back to the 21st in their squad car.

And then you were off to work.

-

“Hell of a morning,” Trudy commented as soon as you eventually stepped into the district, pushing her glasses up onto her head as you approached, an eyebrow going up as you reached the desk, “in more than one way I see.”

Your brow creased, “pardon?” You asked, unsure of what she was suggesting with her tone.

“My mistake, you must have got that bruise during the chase,” Trudy said sarcastically, gesturing to her own neck. Your eyes went a little wide, your hand going to where you’d spent way too much of your morning covering up the hickey Jay had given you. 

“Of course,” you hummed unconvincingly, rushing to the bathroom as Trudy laughed. All that effort to cover it up and your sweat had washed it away, hopefully you could cover it up again before anyone wondered why you weren’t upstairs yet.

Barging into the bathroom you riffled through your bag for the foundation you’d brought, just in case you’d needed to touch it up throughout the day, but in all the excitement of the morning you’d forgotten all about it. Oops.

You were putting the finishing touches on covering it up when the door swung open again, too late to hide what you were doing as you found yourself face to face with Burgess. 

“Voight’s looking for you upstairs,” she relayed, clearly amused as you hurriedly shoved your things back into your bag, embarrassed at being caught red-handed. 

You were going to kill Jay.

She didn’t say anything on the walk up the stairs, but you avoid her eye guiltily as she buzzed you both up and you made your way to the bull pen.

“Took you long enough,” Adam commented when you both emerged, a coffee in his hand as he leaned against the breakroom door. 

“Yeah, sorry, Y/N was busy covering up a hickey in the bathroom,” Burgess replied non-chalantly, much to your emence embarrassment. Kev snorted out a laugh and Jay choked on his drink as you tried not to meet his eye. 

“Was she now?” Hailey laughed, the others clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. 

“I er- no- it was during the call this morning-” you tried and failed to sound believable as the others laughed more, Adam being the first to notice how red Jay had gotten since the converation began.

“No one’s buying that Y/N,” Kim informed you as Adam clapped Jay on the shoulder. 

“Well that’s interesting,” he commented, watching the way Jay awkwardly cleared his throat, not daring to look at you. The others picked up on it too, the both of you looking very guilty in a room full of trained detectives. 

“Got something to share there Halstead?” Kev asked, Jay finally looking at you with apology in his eyes as he finally saw the pourly applied foundation covering the very visible hickey he’d left.

You both hesitated before answering - was there really any use hiding it anymore? A room full of your closest friends who also happened to be detectives weren’t exactly going to drop the subject, or believe whateve bs you gave them in the moment.

Sharing a mutual resigned nod Jay rubbed the back of his neck, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Okay, well, we’ve kind of...”

“...being seeing each other,” you finished for him, realising he was unsure how to put into words exactly what you’d both been doing. If you were honest, you didn’t know exactly what this was either, you hadn’t discussed labels, but you both had feelings for each other, that much you knew for sure. 

“For how long?” Hailey asked, looking at her partner with slightly narrowed eyes, wondering how long he’d been keeping this from her more than anything.

“A couple months,” Jay said, glancing back up at you with a little smile.

“Months?” Adam was shocked you’d both managed to keep this a secret from them for so long, “and this is the first we’re hearing about it?”

“Well, we didn’t want to get our wires crossed,” you shrugged, gesturing to try and get your point across, “we work together.” That had been one of the first things you’d talked about the first time you’d spent the night together, keeping your personal and professional lives as separate as you could. 

“Yes, you do,” you heard your Sergeant say, jumping as Voight emerged from his office, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. Uh-oh. “Is this going to get in the way of doing your job?”

You swallowed and shook your head, “no, sir.”

“We’re good Sarge,” Jay said at the same time.

All the teasing and joking smiles from the unit had vanished, waiting for Voight’s reaction with bated breath as he mulled it over in his head. 

“Good,” he nodded, much to your relief, though you knew the conversation was far from over, “because we’ve got a case to get back to.”

He was right, this was work, there’d be time to think and talk about this more later - right now you had a dead city official and a cop in the hospital.

Burgess winked at you as you made your way to your desk, picking up a scrunched up piece of paper you had lying around and throwing at her once Voight’s back is turned. He paused, shaking his head, but didn’t turn back around as he went back to his desk. 

You rolled your eyes at her and settled into your chair, knowing you had a report to write up about this morning’s incident, your perp down in holding at that very moment. 

Still, you couldn’t help but look over at Jay, who was looking right back at you, offering you a small smile which you returned in kind. Voight wasn’t the only one who’d want to finish this conversation later, you and Jay had a lot to talk about now too, given that everything was out in the open. 

Still, as you turned back to your desk and tried to focus on the task at hand, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to turn out okay.

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 2

Oh my Odin!  I can not thank you all enough for the love you gave Reality Check’s first chapter.  Each and every comment has brought a smile to my face.  Thank you so much.  Seriously.  And I can’t wait for you all to see where this goes.  We’re only going up from here on out, so buckle up. 

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be a part of it!): @dpaccione

Missed the first part?  Read it here! 

Running through the eternal palace halls to hide from the God of Mischief seemed like an impossible task.  You had to find a hiding spot soon.  Unfortunately, the halls were open wide.  The golden pillars were large, and wider than three men, so maybe you had a chance behind them.  You could give it a try since you had nothing to lose.  

With the book gripped tightly in your hands you ran behind the pillar, leaning your back against it.  It wouldn’t be much longer until you could hear his footsteps approaching.  As long as you run around the pillar at the right time you should be able to escape him.  

His footsteps came rushing towards you and then stopped suddenly.  You held in a breath, fearful that he could hear even the slightest noise right now.  If there’s one thing you could remember at the palace halls, it’s that a pin dropping could echo through them.  You tried it once.  

You started to look to the left, taking a glance around the pillar.  You didn’t even hear him approaching you from behind.  His hands quickly stole the book from your hands as you jumped, turning around faster than lightning to look at him.  He was smirking at you.  “If you’re going to steal my book, at least don’t get caught walking out the door.” 

“Well maybe I wanted to get caught.  If I hadn’t, perhaps you would never come out of that library.”  You huffed, causing him to laugh.  

“Oh come now, I’ve only been in there for a few days.  It hasn’t been that long at all.” 

“Only a few days?  Loki, you’ve been in there for a week.  There are three hundred thousand books in that library and I guarantee if anyone has read every single one, it’s you.  What are you doing in there?” 

“Reading, isn’t it obvious?” You rolled your eyes at the response.  

“Why are you shutting everyone out and simply reading all day every day?” 

He hesitated before answering you.  You knew him well enough by now, after several decades together being each other’s confidant.  “It’s nothing.” 

“If it were nothing you wouldn’t seem so determined to return to that library as soon as possible.  Is it about the coronation?”

“In a way, yes.” He couldn’t lie about the situation to you.  If anyone deserved to know the truth it would have been you.  “Don’t worry about it, love.  There’s nothing that can be done about it now anyway.”  He said it almost as if he was trying to convince himself that it had no effect either.  

“Do you promise there’s nothing on your mind?” 

“I promise.” 

______

“Are you sure you’re alright, Loki?  I’m worried you’re going to make your fingers bleed at this rate,” You said, watching him practice a song on the guitar for the hundredth time in a row.  

“I’m 100% sure that I will be fine once I’m able to perfect this song.” You raised an eyebrow at his statement as he tried to restart the song again, this time ending up with a broken string.  The canned laughter you heard in the back of your head was (for once) hidden by your own stifled laughter.  Loki glared playfully at you. 

“This is just a talent show, you know.  You don’t have to be incredible.  The fact that you’re willing to do this at all is admirable.” You smiled.  

“If I’m going to do it I may as well be the best one in it, darling.” 

“It’s just a talent show for the children!” You exclaimed, laughing at his ability to make anything a competition.  

“And the children deserve only the best.” 

“Yes, well I doubt the children will care if you mess up a single note.  Your wife, however, will care if you manage to hurt yourself by the end of this.” You walked up to him, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands.  “How about this?  I’ll go down to the store to pick up some new guitar strings for you while you focus on… Anything else.” 

He pretended to contemplate it momentarily while you grew impatient.  “Well considering I can’t exactly play with a missing string I suppose this will have to do.” 

“Alright, Hank Williams, go work on the car or something.  I’ll be back before you know it.” You kissed his cheek and walked out of the house.  You spun around quickly to see Loki smiling softly at you as you closed the door.  Despite the fluttery feeling you had in your chest by his reaction, a sense of dread was quickly replacing it.  

You began to walk across your lawn, taking a glance at the neighborhood.  It seemed slightly different than yesterday.  Newer cars?  New designs for your homes?  You couldn’t tell exactly, but it was just enough for you to wonder.  Maybe you weren’t the most observant person in the world, but you assumed you would be able to take note of someone getting an upgrade on their house.  

As you started making your way down the street and to the store, you spotted Agnes across the street with Wanda.  It looked like the two were politely chit chatting about something before you saw Dottie walking closer to them.  You internally groaned at the idea of having to talk to Dottie.  She always seemed pompous and uptight to you.  You’ve never had to deal with her face-to-face thankfully, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear about her from neighbors who knew her.  

You decided to walk past them, waving to both Wanda and Agnes.  Agnes smiled brightly towards you and it almost froze you in place.  Agnes out of everyone here frightened you the most.  She was too nice, too neighborly.  It seemed like all she ever did was try to butt in to everyone’s lives.  There was something off about the look in her eyes.  She looked at Wanda with an almost kind of sadness when she said something.  Wanda seemed to be amused by whatever she had said, so why did Agnes seem so disheartened? 

Perhaps it wasn’t your place to ask.  You had to get to the store.  Talking to Wanda and Agnes could wait.  

--

You walked into the store and were greeted by no one.  At least the world was working in your favor for that one, you didn’t have to dodge people left and right just to grab a few things.  

As you walked down the seemingly endless aisles of the store you could find a couple people every once in a while.  They seemed to be stuck though.  They would just stare at a single item as if it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.  It sent chills down your spine as you passed by them, not a single word being spoken.  You don’t even know who these people were.  None of them looked like they wanted to be there. 

Fortunately, there was no one in the music section of the store.  The section had countless musical instruments including guitars, flutes, and drums.  Each one was uniquely designed, with price tags on every single one of them.  When you tried to read them, you couldn’t figure out what they were saying.  The numbers were blurred and blended in with one another.  

Maybe they were removing the tags because there was a sale going on?  You looked around for any indication of that and found nothing.  Maybe water got on to the tags and the ink leaked, but there was no damage or any sign of a leak anywhere around the store.  

That’s when you noticed the bright red guitar pick on a shelf.  It was an electric red, far brighter than anything else in the room.  You walked towards it, confused by the color.  When you picked it up, it slowly lost its color.  The red that seemed to radiate off the pick faded until it was a dull grey.  

“Excuse me, miss-” 

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice.  You turned towards the man, noticing that he was the one you bumped into only yesterday.  Once again his green eyes were what caught your attention.  He was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked back.  “Oh!  I’m so sorry, you startled me.” You laughed breathlessly.  

He smiled politely.  “No, I apologize.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.  I was just wondering if I could ask you a question or two.” 

“Of course you can!  Although I believe a proper introduction may be needed beforehand, especially after I ran into you.  I’m Y/N,” You held your hand out and smiled. 

“I’m-” He stopped himself for a moment before shaking your hand, “I’m Scott.” 

“A pleasure to meet you Scott!” You smiled.  “It’s nice to know more people around here.  Are you new here?” 

“Well, it seems like it.  I don’t really know if you could call me new to the town though.  I just know that I feel out of place here.  They all seem to cast me out before I can even have a chance to introduce myself,” He chuckled.  

“Yeah, I understand that feeling.  Right now it seems like something’s changing around here.  I can hardly keep up with it!” 

“It’s nice to know I’m not alone then,” He smiled.  

“Agreed.”  A brief moment of silence was shared before you remembered he wanted to ask something.  “So, you said you had a couple questions?” 

“Oh yes, but I would prefer if we talked about it outside.  The walls have ears around here, you know.” He said it with such a serious tone that you were almost afraid to question him.  His eyes held a level of somber that you hadn’t seen in anyone in years.  Whatever he wanted to discuss, it had to be something that you wouldn’t forget.  

“Who’s going to want to listen to our conversations?” You laughed, attempting to lighten the mood a little. 

“You may not want to know.” 

[tintentrinkerin]

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.