#gotta rip off the band aid i suppose

[phamlijuuls]

hoping when i get to my workout goal i can have a better sense of direction whether i want to transition medically. crying emoji

idk, i wish i could pick and choose the effects of hrt but unfortunately that's not reality. everything feels like a compromise tbh.

I KNOW I DEFINITELY DON'T WANT TO LOOK LIKE MY DAD AND UNCLES WHEN I GET OLDER!!!!!

[mackeydoodledoo]

She Wears Short Skirts, I wear T-shirts: Chapter 2

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: After Bridget finds out your 'secret life', you and her have been growing close. With your final homecoming on the other side of the week, you build the courage to ask Bridget to accompany you...

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, Bold/Italic = Daydream, Bold/Indent = Texts, Bold = PA System

Chapter Theme: Motown - Grayscale

A/n: Aight, I didn't expect this one to be THAT long but whatever lol enjoy it

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

*Y/n's POV* You walk into the doors of the school fresh Monday morning. Everyone is dressed in their favorite band shirt... As you head to your first class, you see Bridget... Wearing your own band shirt. Most likely she bought it at your last gig.

"Y/n!" She runs up to you and hugs you

"Nice shirt," You chuckle

"Yeah, I know, they're so amazing," She plays along, "The drummer really caught my eye when I saw them. I'm pretty sure they're my favorite after that."

"Oh did they now?" You ask

She links her arm with your and the both of you walk off into the halls.

"You didn't... Tell them right?" You ask

"No I didn't," She rolls her eyes, "I want you to do that."

"Thanks," You chuckle, "Where are we going?"

"To your class," She says

"It was... Back the other way..." You say

She pivots on her heel and turns to where you begin to guide her to your classroom.

+*+

You sit in the back of the classroom, technically supposed to follow the lecture, but you could care less about the class, you were passing anyway...

You lift your hand over her head, twirling her. Bridget smiles as the both of you continue dancing the night away. She wraps her arms round your neck and pulls you close to her.

Wait-

Do I... Like her?!

Once the final bell rung, you begin making your way to the band room to grab your rehearsal gear. However, you notice Bridget down the hall, near the band hall.

"Y/n!" She notices you again

She waves her friends off and runs up to you.

"Are you able to hang out?" She asks

"Agh... Gotta get to band rehearsal," You sigh, "I got a slight bit of time to talk right now."

"Oh..." She says, "I was hoping we could... So I could... You know..."

"You know?..." You ask

"There's something I want to ask," She says

"Go on," You say

"Would you go to Homecoming with me?" She asks, ripping the big question off like a band-aid

"Yeah," You answer, nonchalantly

Her eyes light up, she doesn't say anything in case you misspoke.

"I'm serious," You say, "I'll go with you."

She squeals as she jumps into your arms.

"Gosh, now you won't have time to find an outfit!" She realizes

"As long as you send me a photo of your dress, I'll find something," You say, "Here, hand me your phone..."

She hands you her phone and you put your number into her contact list. You set the photo she took of the both of you as your contact image.

"There, now you can reach me," You say, handing the phone back to her

"Eek!" She squeals, hugging the life out of you, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright, gotta go!" You say, running past her

You dash into the band room and quickly grab your equipment, narrowly being late.

+*+

You throw your backpack onto your computer chair and crash right into bed. Your director was working every single fiber of your muscles that rehearsal. You open your phone and see a text from her.

Hey, I realized that I didn't get to give you my number - Bridget No worries, I had to run to band...

She sends you the photo that she took of the both of you over the previous weekend.

Here's my dress...

It was a white base dress with red and pink flowers adorning the canvas.

The colors suit you. Do you want me to go with you? If you want. EEE! Okay! I'm so excited! Also, aren't you in the Homecoming court? Yeah why? Nothing just wondering. Did you want to be in the court so you could walk me down the track? ;) What? Haven's no. I'm not popular enough to be nominated for hoco court. Mayyyyybeeeee if you revealed your drummer-by-night status, maybe you would be. Hard Pass. I'm taking you to homecoming anyway. You're not wrong. We'll have a dance though :) Lucky me :) I'm going to go to bed now, I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.

+*+

You walk into School Friday: everyone wearing their year colors: Seniors getting to wear black.

"Yo Y/n, ready for our last pep rally?!" F/n asks, "Getting to leave last period just for and related things is always a plus!"

"Can't wait," You sigh, rolling your eyes jokingly

"A little birdie told me you're taking the cheer team's captain to homecoming," They add, "How did that happen?!"

"She asked, I answered," You say, "Simple as that."

"Come on, since she found out you were in a band, she's been GAWKING at you," F/n states

"No, impossible," You say, chuckling, "She's a cheerleader, I'm a band kid. Popular, and unpopular. She wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts. She;s the cheer captain and... I'm... In the marching band. No way she'd fall for someone like me."

"Jeez you sound stupid," They sigh in annoyance, "Just give her a chance. May never know until it's too late."

"Lets see how homecoming goes," You say

As you sit in the classroom, you had time before the ending bell rung.

"I heard it was a lame band kid that asked the cheer team captain to homecoming..." "Really? I heard it was the drum captain. They're pretty cool." "Still. They're just as lame as the regular band kids."

Your brows furrow as you listen to the comments made about you. You shouldn't care... Shit like that has been happening since you began your marching arts career.

Imagine if they'd find out that the drum captain is in a band-oh my god no...

Would the members of the Cheer Team, and Marching Band report to the band room."

That's my cue.

You sling the strap of your backpack over your shoulder as you weave your way through the desks. You trip over someone's foot sticking out from their desk. However, your feet instantly catch themselves and you compose yourself before continuing to walk forward.

"Sorry loser!" The person laughs

More laughs add in...

"This is not a classroom to make fun of your fellow classmates," The teacher begins to scold them

"It was a joke Ms. [Name]!" They say

"In my eyes it didn't seem like a joke," She says, "Are you alright Y/n?"

At least someone that isn't the band director cares... Sorta...

"I'm fine Ms. [Name]. They're not worth it," You sigh, "They'll never learn."

"Why you!-"

"I recommend you sit back down [Bullies' Name], or I will make sure that you will never see your final homecoming football game, and homecoming," Ms. [Name] firmly states

"Whatever," They huff, sinking back into their chair

"Go on Y/n," She turn to you, smiling

You wave her off and rush to the band room. You were her favorite student, not intentionally. But you treated her with basic respect and turned in her assignments.

+*+

Soon after the pep rally ended, You grab your things from the band hallway and make your way out to the field for a quick practice before prepping for the homecoming parade.

+*+

You hang your jacket up against the bars of your locker and then head out to the tailgate. As you travel further from the entrance of the band room, showering the band area of the tailgate, you found yourself at the very end, seeing the cheerleader's tailgate. You see very familiar pink hair. She wore a warm up two-piece track suit. You'd be surprised if you saw one of them not wearing one of those.

"Hey you," She smiles, "Care to get some food with me?"

"Only if you actually get some food," You say, "I wouldn't want to watch you pass out on the track tonight."

She nods as she takes your arm and leads you through the cheer tailgate.

"Hi mom! Hi dad!" She waves at them

"Oh hi sweetie!" Her mom greets her, "Is this Y/n Y/l/n? We've heard a lot about you."

"Really?" You ask, looking at her

"We really appreciate that you're taking her to homecoming," She adds, "We were surprised that no one had asked her."

"More like she asked me," You say

"Wow," Her dad chimes, fixing the both of you a plate, "That's really bold of her."

"Okay thanks dad bye!" She takes the plates and walks off

You follow after her.

"What was all that about?" You ask

"Parents... They tend to do everything they can to embarrass their kids," She says

"True," You chuckle

The both of you sit somewhere a little secluded to avoid judgmental eyes.

"Sorry you're not hanging with your friends," You say, "I can always go back to my band friends."

"It's not a problem," She tells you, "Besides, I couldn't catch you before the pep rally."

"Aww you missed me," You tease

"Shut up," She lightly shoves you, giggling

After sitting with each other for a little while you check the time on your phone.

"Oh, gotta run," You say, "I'll see you out there."

Bridget nods as you make your way back to the band room.

+*+

You walk in-step with your drumline members as you all walk into the stadium to warm up.

*Bridget's POV* You grab your pompoms and walk with your squad to your part of the stadium. You catch a glimpse of the drumline as you walk by. Y/n looks up after hoisting the drum over her shoulders. She smiles as you walk by. Your cheeks heated and you look away, hoping she wouldn't notice.

"Quit making google eyes at the drum captain," f/n says, "We have our own thing to do tonight."

*Y/n's POV* You tap off a beat and the other members follow suit, in time.

+*+

You meet up with the winds and the guard to run through some show music before heading to the back of the field for pregame.

Pregame goes as normal, with the exception of having alumni perform the fight song off the field.

You go to your seat and begin helping the drum majors pass the drum stands to your drummers who require one.

Throughout the entire game, you really didn't pay attention. You played where the drum majors wanted you all to play, the team either scored or the other team did. But, the game was in the bag anyway. Your eyes drift down to the track and see the cheer team doing a routine. Bridget up in the air and then trusting her teammates holding her up to catch her when she came back down...

If only I had that much faith in my drummers...

You wouldn't trust them to keep you upright. A handful of them were rookies or transferred from the front ensemble. You'd pity the next drum captain after you, and your friend leave, as you and them were the best drumline members, not because of the seniority, but since their both of you were doing indoor drumline since the both of you were eligible to start: The both of you learned from the people who had done Drum Corps; highly elite form of band...

+*+

You walk off of the field as the parents of your fellow seniors meet up with you; your parents included.

"We would like to congratulate all of our seniors and their contribution to our organization," Your band director announces over the speaker system

Some only gave light claps, fellow band parents of non-senior members cheered their hearts out. Your head travels to the side where Bridget stood with her fellow senior cheer members. She smiles as she gives you a subtle applaud.

+*+

Like you predicted... Your football team won the game. The band plays the fight song to the people exiting the stadium. you return to the band room and change out of your uniform, as well as organizing everything in the drum storage.

"Y/n, you have a visitor!" One of the guard girls says

You look near the band room door and see Bridget. you slide on sweatpants and make your way over to her.

"Want to walk home?" She asks

You nod as you sling your backpack over your shoulders.

"Do you get to go home after school when you have either practice or a game?" You ask

"No, do you?" She asks

"Nope," You answer, "Kinda sucks honestly... But, I'd be to band on time. One time the entire freshman class was late to rehearsal.... Our director made them run a few laps."

"Sounds like he's really passionate about marching band," She says

"More like it's to make the rookies 'care' about being in band, or it's a punishment, beats me," You say, "Your cheer coach do something like that?"

"Nope," She says

"Say, wouldn't there be an after-party for the cheer team?" You ask

"There is, but I'm too tired to go, what about the band?" She asks

"Also yes, but I'm also way too tired for it," You answer, "It's being hosted by some band kid I don't know well... Besides, we still have time left."

You walk her up to her door, her parents greeting her at the door.

"Thanks for walking me home like always," Bridget smiles, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," You smile back, "I'll see you tomorrow."

+*+

You walk over to Bridget's house and wait at her front door until her parents open the door.

"Ahh! Y/n, welcome in," Her mother greets you, "Bridget is finishing up in her room."

You nod as you patiently, but awkwardly wait in silence until you hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Hey Bridget," You look up at her

You take in her features that go with her dress...

"You look gorgeous," You smile

Per her parent's request, they take a bunch of photos before the both of you walk to the school.

The both of you walk hand in hand; watching everyone mind themselves.

"Yo Y/n!" F/n walks up to you, "Evening, Bridget."

She happily waves at your friend.

"Wouldn't recommend going in the gym," They say, "Hot as hell, and the music is rank."

"That's unfortunate," You roll your eyes

"Guess we might have to blow this popsicle stand early," f/n suggests

You look at Bridget, the hope in her eyes slowly disappear... But, come back once she processes the idea.

"You know what, I've been to three other ones," She says, continuing to hold your hand, "Let's get out of here."

"One word Y/n, keeper," f/n says, "Come on!"

F/n and their date, you and Bridget head out from campus grounds and find the nearest late-night diner; the four of you sitting in a booth in the corner.

"So, what are you two planning on doing after high school?" f/n's date asks

"We've been considering continuing our band full time," F/n says

You nod.

"Would you bring us on tour?" Bridget asks

"That's if a headlining band asks us to tour with them," You say, "We've never been asked to tour yet. Plus, you wouldn't just be watching. We'd give ya'll something to do."

"Like what" Bridget asks

"Be the people who help run our merch table," You say, "Wouldn't hurt to have help at the table."

"Would we get free merch?" f/n's date leans in

"I mean... Sure," You answer

They both squeal.

"How did we get lucky with the most famous band in town?" Bridget asks, leaning onto you

"Surprised that the school hasn't heard of you guys," f/n date notes

"Well, almost everyone in the school is into rap, or whatever," F/n says, "They don't both to support local music..."

"That's a darn shame," Bridget says, "They really are missing out."

"Oh well, their loss," You sigh, "I kinda like having an audience that is respectful. You could always hear the audience speak during our halftime shows..."

"It's a damn shame," F/n says, "We work our asses off to put on a good show, and then it's like... No one gives a damn."

"No matter though f/n, we'll be out of the godforsaken school soon," You say, "Fortunately we don't have to do anymore halftime shows."

"All that's left is State Finals," They say, "Then indoor season. Really throws us off our gig schedules."

"Indoor is only on the weekends you idiot," You sigh, "We can still do performances on the weeknights."

"We'd be cutting it close to waking up on time for school though," They add

"Must you always be a killjoy?" You ask

"I'm pointing out the facts," They raise their palms in defeat

The four of you continue to converse until the diner began closing for the night.

"See you Monday you two!" You wave off your friend and their date, leaving you and Bridget alone

"I know it's a little late but... Want to take a drive?" You ask

"Sure," She says

The both of you hop into your car and drive in silence: only the music from your radio filling some of that silence.

"Do you know how to drive?" You ask

"I do but... My older brother took the only other car when he moved out," She says

"Well, that really sucks," You sigh, "Well, I'm more than happy to give you a ride. I really love driving."

You take a random turn...

"I would hate for you to put a lot of miles onto your car," She says

"It's not a big deal," You say, "We live near the school anyway."

"Okay," She sighs

+*+

You pull into her driveway, putting the car in park as the both of you relax for a moment.

"Thanks for taking me," She says, "I had a good time. Even though.. Most of it wasn't spent at homecoming."

"Thanks for deciding to accompany me," You reply, "I also had a good time. Even if it wasn't at homecoming, being anywhere with you is an adventure to me."

"I'll... See you Monday," She says, smiling

But she doesn't move from her seat...

"You alright?" You ask, "Did-"

Before you could ask if you did something wrong, you felt her lips touch your cheek. You only sit in the driver's seat in shock as your eyes watch her exit your car. She leans down to the window and waves you off. After waiting for her to close her front door, your brain attempts to process her kiss...

Chapter 3

[serenanight87]

The Bells of Christmas (Interrogator and Reader)

A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you are all enjoying this holiday season and have enjoyed all the Rickmas fun. I was going to wait till next year to put anything in but there was a prompt that just stuck with me and made me have to write something. I love Closetland and this prompt just screamed him. This is my first published writing that wasn’t just flying around in my head so please be gentle. I have been so nervous to write but, y’all are making me braver. Hopefully you enjoy.

Warnings: Swearing, suggested smut, con/non con of you squint

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hate having to work during the fucking holidays.

These were the times of “supposed” good heart and good cheer. The time to bring joy and love to every man. However, someone had to do the dirty work. Someone had to get their hands messy (and sometimes bloody) to get the truth out of the world. Because in the end, people were inherently evil and full of sinful lies.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love my job most days. I get to let my little sadistic fun side come out and play. It also allows me some freedom when it is truly someone that is truly evil. Makes me feel like my job has purpose when they try to pull one over on me.

Gotta love when they think they can lie.

You see when they lie, I get to deliver a justice that I am so good at. I get to hear the anguished screams of agony as they try to make me believe the bullshit they deliver from their supposed “silver tongues”. How they cry and plead for me to just let them go, to release them from their torment. Sometimes, I let them think I will only for me to dash away all hope and bring them deeper in.

The best moment comes when I bring about that sweet release of the confession from their lips. It makes all the hard work worth while, knowing justice has been completed. Now what they do with that information after I give it to them, not my business. I had my time to release the sadistic beast within to play with the unjust of this world.

The part of my job that I hate though is when they make me work on the ones that we know have done nothing and we are just looking for who to blame. Someone to just be the dummy to when someone higher in the food chain fucked up.

Damn government! ‘We fucked up so now someone has to pay. Guess it will be this poor fuck. We can bury them deep. No one knows them and they take the hit while we sit back in our nice houses, drinking our spiked eggnog, and fucking that cute new secretary that we think the wife doesn’t know about. Just as long as it doesn’t fuck with our checks, who cares! No one’s souls are on the line for damning the innocent.’ Just mine gets damned every time I have to do it.

These are the thoughts I have as I look at the new case in front of me.

Y/L/N, Y/F/N…just someone cursed to have no one, no family, and a little small business that is going under.

And now she has to be in charge of some mass terrorist group through website hacking.

Yeah okay. Let’s hope she breaks fast so this can be over and done with. Rip off the band-aid!

She has been through multiple interrogations before coming to my desk.

Impressive…maybe a challenge? Shame she is innocent. I would have so much fun with breaking her if she was actually guilty.

I get my suit ready, glasses on, setting body posture and face to be the most receptive. I will try the nice approach first. Maybe that will be enough. Just make her sign the papers and get out to maybe have a drink and a good movie.

I hear her being walked in, I walk around bare footed to not be heard, and I begin to set the scene. I darken the room where she sees no light through that blindfold. I make sure that she will be in a vulnerable position to accept my help quickly. I see her while she is being brought in. I motion for the guard to be quiet. I change into my boots and stomp where she can hear me.

“What piece of juicy ass have you brought me today?” I asked in my changed deep voice.

I do this for pure intimidation. She shudders so it must have worked. Moving behind her quietly and changing my voice again to sound pathetic and weak. The guards are used to this when I play with my food.

“Look y-you! I was t-told to bring her to h-him. We just n-need to g-g-get this done s-s-so we can go home for Christmas! S-s-so go somewhere else and f-f-find your fun elsewhere!” I stuttered.

“Damn, I would have loved biting into that sweet ass like a juicy peach.” I said in my deeper voice change in front of her again. “I bet it tastes as good as it looks and I bet it would be so juicy when I had it. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” As I slapped her ass and have it a squeeze.

She shivered again but, it didn’t look like from fear. Pleasure…arousal maybe? Interesting indeed.

I motioned for the guard to bring her in and to do the usual routine to bring them in.

“I hope I get to get you next, sweetheart.” I said in my deep tone as she was taken away. “We could have so much fun together. No reason to not mix business and pleasure.”

I take off my boots off and change back into my dress shoes. I get to the interrogation room door and wait for the guard to leave. Once he leaves, I wait a few moments to build suspense. Alright, showtime!

I walk in, with my swagger stride, I see she is jumping at every sound like a scared rabbit. This will be too easy. I put down my briefcase and walk in her direction.

“It is much too dark in here for me to work. I need to get some light in here.” I turn on the light and watch her take a deep breath.

“Oh, I told them to stop bringing people in so scared like I am going to hurt them. It really brings a reputation on me up here,” I said. “Here let me take off this blindfold so you can see. If that is alright with you?”

She nodded slowly like she was in a trance. It was like the moment I spoke, she became calm. Very interesting indeed. We may have some fun yet.

I went and untied her blindfold. She squinted when she blinked her eyes open in the bright light. Her eyes were so beautiful. Such a unique shade and seem so open to the world. Why are you still here when I can read you so clear?

“I am sorry if you have been under any distress. I want to make this as quick and easy as possible. I’m sure you have your family to go home to for the holidays.”

“No…I have no one. I’m all alone…again,” she said slowly.

I watched her to see if she was telling me anything with her body. She looked very calm but lonely and tired. Maybe she will break quick. Then she can go rest. Wait…why do I care that she looks tired? I think that is a sign that I need to ask for time off after this.

“Well I am sorry you are alone for the holidays but, I am sure you don’t want to be here so let’s see what we can do to get that for you. Would you like some tea?” I asked.

“Yes please. That is so kind of you,” she said.

I grabbed my thermos from my briefcase and poured her a cup. She said thank you and I continued with my role in this scene.

“Okay, I see that you have been interviewed before-“

“You mean interrogated. I have been interrogated and put under some very stressful conditions while I have been here. I don’t even know what day it is anymore. Has Christmas come and gone or is there still time to see if someone would kiss me under the mistletoe?”, she interrupted.

“I am sorry if the treatment of your person has been less than satisfactory but, I will endeavor to make this experience a little more positive so long as you work with me,” I stated. “Now, we have evidence that you have been working with a terrorist organization through your small business website. We are willing to work with you if you just give us some names of the individuals you worked with. To guarantee that and that no harm will come to you, if the names you give are correct, we will have you sign this document that we will let you go and all will be well.”

“What else is in that document? Sounds too easy for all of the dramatics I have been through so far,” she said.

“It is just a statement that you have been working with them but you are willing to collaborate with us in exchange for your freedom. Nothing nefarious, I assure you. Just an easy signing of your name and some names that we need and you are free to go.”

“And if I don’t have what you want? What if I have no part in what you said I did? Do I have rights to legal representation during this ‘interview’ as you call it. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you didn’t deny that I have been interrogated.”

“I do not know of the treatment you have received prior to coming to me,” I stated calmly. “However, you are more that free to put in a complaint when you leave here. That can be done much faster if you cooperate with me,” I stated. She is fiery! And doesn’t let anything get past her. Maybe a little harder than I thought. “So what do you say that we move this right along or do just enjoy my company that much?” I put on the charm with a sexy grin.

“As much as I would love to say that really enjoy your handsome face, and yes you are very handsome, I just can’t agree to something that I didn’t do. I have heard from the others the charges, they have made their threats, and then they move me on. I have nothing else to do so I might as well ruin everyone’s holiday plans since I am being detained here for my ‘interview’. So, what will be your next tactic, Mr. Nice Guy?”, she stated matter of factly.

Well this is going differently than expected. Alright maybe I’ll add a little heat.

“You really think you are moving on from here?”, I said. “There is only one other that you would go to after me and I heard you met him in the hall. And I don’t think you would like his methods…”

“What if I would like what he has? He sounded more fun than you.”

So that was a shiver of pleasure. Now we can make this fun.

“Oh, so that is what you are into. Well let us see if I can make you an additional offer that you maybe interested in.”

She chuckled. “Like you have anything I could want. But, you have my attention, pretty boy,” she said with a seductive smile.

I’m going to make you regret that comment, little girl.

“How about for every name you give, I reward you for your good work. But if you disobey, I get to punish you how I see fit.” I move my brief case under my chair and clear off the desk. I may want to have that all ready. I can see this one will be a handful.

“And you think you could punish me, pretty boy? You don’t even look like you know how to get down and dirty in that suit. I could probably do more damage to you than you could because you wouldn’t want to mess up your good suit.”

“So a demonstration is in order,” I stated. I took off my glasses and put them in my blazer pocket. Then, I took off my blazer and put it on the back of my chair. I lightly touched her collarbone then traced my fingers up her neck and grabbed her hair at the nap of her neck as I walked around her. “Let’s see what I can do to change your mind,” I whispered softly on she ear. I heard her take a shuddering breath as I knocked her out with the pressure point in her neck.

“I have some prep work to take care of,” I stated to myself. “We will have fun and you will give me all the information that I need. If I have to be here to ring in the bells of Christmas with you, I will, my sweet. You will succumb to my wishes one way or another and I will have such a delicious time exploring every way I can make you scream in pleasure or in pain.”

I bent down to whisper in her ear even if she can hear me or not, “Let’s see if you taste as juicy as a peach, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed this. I love Closetland and I always felt the interrogation room would be a BDSM dreamland. Be honest with me if I did okay but please be kind. Love y’all!

@deepperplexity @vulnus-sanare

[rollercoasterwords]

i’ve been trying to think of what remus was thinking in the recent chapter and thought of when sirius was asking him if he was hurt or something like that and remus being like he’s STILL TRYING TO MANIPULATE ME 😑🤔

yeah lol i went back through my blog 2 find this post that i wrote a while back about where r's head is at after the initial cage scene where james sweeps in 2 save the day but like. summary is that yeah r's view of s has changed but he's not happy about that, he doesn't want to like s, he was expecting to just finish the mission + ghost him + never have to deal w him again, etc.

so at the point of the quid-pro-quo questions scene, remus is frustrated + angry that he's even in this situation--even tho it's not sirius's fault, he's still angry + frustrated that sirius is even there, and he absolutely does not want to have to confront any positive feelings for sirius in front of james or other people from the Order--like, it's bad enough that he's struggling with these changing feelings internally, but to let other Order members know he's developing a soft spot for a death eater? unthinkable!!!!

so of course he rolls up to the cell + he's ready for sirius to be angry at him + he's ready to tell sirius that none of it was real, it was all a job, etc, just rip the band-aid off + get this over with so they can both hate each other, the way things are supposed to be. and to have that moment of sirius, caught off-guard, just instinctively asking if he's hurt...i mean it's basically like getting sucker-punched lol. and so of course remus does what he's been doing anytime he starts to soften towards s--he hardens himself immediately, squashes those feelings, finds reasons to doubt or disbelieve them (like telling himself this could be a manipulation tactic, and he can't trust anything s says, especially in this situation where s actually knows they're enemies). and of course he immediately doubles down on closing himself off + insisting everything was just a meaningless job to him; i mean, first of all, james is there watching all this--no way in hell remus is gonna let james think that he got invested in s--but even if james wasn't there, the conversation would have gone largely the same way, because remus himself does not want to care about s. and the fact that sirius is acting like a kicked puppy about the whole thing is absolutely infuriating to remus, because it makes him feel guilty, and what right does this fucking death eater have to make him feel guilty?? how could sirius genuinely believe that there would ever be anything between them, given the circumstance? when he was basically treating remus like some sort of pet, from r's pov? when he was literally working every day with a government that wants remus dead? like--i got a couple comments from people saying they felt like r was being unnecessarily cruel in this ch bc obviously sirius is so upset, but y'all have gotta understand that sirius getting to act like the victim in this situation just makes remus hate him even more. like the guy was holding back lmao he could have been even meaner

[faegoddessog]

 Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 20/41

Chapter 20: Le Roi

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, fellatio, gagging, titty fucking, fingering, pearl necklace, masturbating.

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes  involved here. 

Chapter 20: Le Roi

You come to awareness a while later. You hear the shower going in the bathroom. You stretch and get up from the bed, button down shirt still hanging on your shoulders. You gotta pee, you decide to use the guest bathroom.

As you walk back to the bedroom, you take in Austin’s apartment. It looks like a sex bomb went off. The line from Princess Bride enters your mind, “It ranged all over. They were both masters.”

It may be the dopamine, but it just strikes you as enormously funny. You are cackling as you walk into the bedroom.

“Hey sleepyhead, come on in”, you hear Austin from the shower.

You walk in trying to contain yourself. The steamy outline of him is letting the hot water beat down. You drop the shirt to the floor and step into the large glass stall.

He greets you by gathering you under the hot water for shower kisses. Steamy Shower kisses. Damn. You two need some kind of intervention. This much desire is criminal.

Soaking, you come up for air.

“Babe, we -” you say.

“Need to not?" he interrupts.

You both laugh. At least you are on the same page.

After showering and stealing yet another of Austin’s shirts, you two set about cleaning up his apartment. You start laughing again about ‘ranging all over’.

“What's so funny?” he asks.

You tell him about the Princess Bride line. He doesn’t think it’s as funny as you do.

“I mean, take a look,” you wave your hand, “we DID range all over!”

“Well, I mean you are not wrong,” he admits, “we did have a LOT of sex.”

“Yes, yes we did,” you come behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “The best sex I’ve ever had in my life, in fact."

“Ditto,” he turns around in your embrace, hugging you to his chest.

You guys finally get the place cleaned, sheets changed, furniture put back, clothes picked up.

“Okay love, we have to rip this band aid off,” you say.

“Yeah, I’m sorry to have to say it, but I have to get my mind right for tomorrow. I may be having a quiet panic attack because I didn’t do any real Elvis study this weekend,” he takes in a big shuddering breath.

“Look at it this way," you rationalize, “ you just did a different kind of studying for Elvis this weekend. You fucked me as Elvis several times. You practically channeled him when you were spanking me. Apparently he gets off on a good spanking.”

“He actually was supposed to be really good at oral sex,” Austin is getting on your bandwagon.

“Well you’ve got that in the bag babe. Anytime you want to practice, you know where I am, “ you say.

He laughs.

“No really, any time,” you are definitely not joking.

He insists on walking you ‘home’.

“So you don’t feel like it’s a walk of shame,” he says when you stop outside your door.

“Y’know, you are so sweet, but understand that I feel no shame whatsoever,” you declare, “and I’m carrying a filthy dress, my heels AND a bag of sex toys wearing a shirt that I stole from you.”

“My dirty girl,” he says with a smile and leans down to kiss you…and kiss you. His hands slide into the shirt to your waist, discovering that the button-down is all you have on.

“Hoh, you are so… fuck, woman,” he growls, pulling you into him. His kiss is passionate and lustful as his hands cup your bare ass. Well I guess you know what getting more sex does to him, makes him just want it even more.

“Austin, hunny, ” you pant, pulling away from him, “you had better go work on Elivs, or I am going to require you on the other side of this door.” Just thinking about it and you find your hand migrating towards the crotch of his pants. You ball your fist tight to stop it.. “If we do that, we are both gonna end up in the hospital.”

“I know, I know, you are right,” he shakes his head. You grab him by the hand and look him in the eye.

“Why don’t you come by tomorrow when you get home and tell me about how it all went and I will feed you,” you suggest.

“I would really like that, although I have no idea when we’ll get done. Filming is like that,” he warns.

“No worries, just text me when you are on the way back from the studio. I will be here.”

“Ok,” he nods his head.

“I'll see you tomorrow babe,” you lean up and kiss his cheek, trying to keep your goodbye chill. You open the door and turn to go inside, he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back.

“Love you,” he says, staring into your soul. Your heart melts. You find yourself throwing your arms around his neck in a huge hug.

“Love you too hunny,” you say in his ear. You break away, turn and force yourself through your open door before you get stuck in a loop of wanting, denying, goodbyeing; wash, rinse, repeat.

You turn around to close the door and he has taken a couple steps backwards.

“Break a leg tomorrow!” you say.

“Thanks,” he says with a little wave.

You close the door, and lean on it, much like that night after Tom and Rita’s. Today, though, you just let out a huge contented sigh and whisper ‘Austin’. ….

At first you are not sure what to do with yourself. You wander around the apartment, with the intention to tidy up. Everywhere you look reminds you of Austin.

The shower: making him cum with your finger on his prostate, his tongue in your mouth as water poured over you, his tongue on your clit; The bedroom: Austin fucking you like a dark deity in the middle of the night, the feel of his cock in your ass for the first time, the quiet of the morning as he moved inside of you; The couch: watching movies and sucking him off, his relentless fingering of your clit, laying on his lap encased in a sphere of bliss, simply hanging out laughing and tickling and kissing… oh god the kissing!

You spend the evening eating leftover pizza and writing it all down so you never forget.

Your phone jangles.

Austin: Goodnight darlin’

You can’t help how big the smile on your face is.

Me: Goodnight lover, sleep well. XOXO

A contented smile is plastered on your face as you crawl into bed. You miss having Austin’s arms wrapped around you, so his shirt will have to do.

The next day you have a zoom meeting with your uncle to talk about progress in the early morning. You had forgotten about it until the alarm you had set previously to wake you up an hour before goes off. Thank you former self!

You are thankful that Austin didn’t stay the night either, you didn’t need to explain that. Your family has been bugging you about ‘settling down’ for a while now. It’s the juxtaposition of you having a near death experience and needing to get out and not waste a moment, while they almost lost you and want to hold on tight.

You show him the guest bathroom you have been working on. You had ripped out the old tub and shower and put in a walk-in, marble tiled shower with a rain shower head and handheld combo. You just have to grout and caulk. Next you will tile the floor and install a new vanity and toilet. It should be done in less than 2 weeks. After that, you’ll work on the master bath, probably 3-4 weeks, then start the big demo on the kitchen and bedrooms. He’s happy, so that’s a good thing. You finalize the design and layout of the kitchen. Mostly he trusts your choices and just wants you to stay as close to the budget as you can. Cool.

Your mind is never far from how Austin is doing on set today. He hasn’t texted, which you totally expected.

You decide to grout the shower today to keep you busy. Once that is done and washed off you caulk it. You actually really like to caulk, you find it soothing and meditative. It’s afternoon when you finish. You clean up and decide to head out to get some shopping done. When you get back, it’s evening.

You hadn’t realized how much you were waiting for his text until your heart skips a beat when your text tone goes off as you are cooking dinner.

Austin: done for the day c u in an hour?

Me: yay! dinner?

Austin: ys pls X

Me: you got it XOXO

In an hour there is a knock at your door. Your chest tightens. You open the door. Austin is freshly showered and in sweats and a hoodie with a bottle of bourbon.

“Hey you!” you smile, opening your arms to him.

“Hey baby!” he wraps you in a hug.

“How was it?” you ask, closing the door.

“It was unreal. Baz changed almost everything we had already rehearsed. It really threw me for a loop. But I really think it ended up better.” He grabs glasses from the cupboard and pours you each two fingers of the brown liquor over an ice cube. He hands you one and clinks them together.

“Here’s to the first day down,” he says. You both drink and shiver at the first taste.

“Y’know, sipping liquor reminds me of kissing. It’s not the first one that you should judge on, it’s the second that really shows the quality.” You take that second sip and a step closer to him, then put your glass on the counter.

“Hmm,” he keeps his eyes on you as he drinks again. ”I see what you mean,” he sets his glass down. “Speaking of quality kisses,” he grabs your waist and pulls you in close, “I missed having yours this morning.”

He presses his mouth to yours. Your mouth opens automatically to his probing tongue. Your hands are on the back of his neck, body pressed close to his. The caramel taste of the bourbon mingles on your slightly numb tongues. You close your lips together, only to open and go deeper, breathing deeply through your noses, enhancing the ‘whiskey kiss’. Your lips vibrate with little vocalizations that you can't’ help making.

He pulls away, licking his lips.

A shiver goes down your spine. “ I forgot how much I like whiskey-kisses.”

“It’s bourbon,” he tries to correct you.

“I know, I just call them whiskey kisses, it rolls off the tongue better,” you explain.

“You do have a spectacular tongue,” he kisses you more.

“You hungry?” you ask when you pull back, one eyebrow cocked with a sly smile on your face.

“Yes, I am,” his hands glide around your hips, thumbs settling on your hip bones, “I’d like to eat first, if that’s ok.”

Over dinner you talk about your call with your uncle and some of the plans you hammered out. He is quiet at first and just listens. He is so amazing at listening. He asks some questions about grout and tiling.

You ask if he wants to talk about his day. As he picks up the dishes, and takes them to the sink, he starts talking. He pours another two fingers of bourbon for each of you and transitions the conversation to the couch. He talks about the shoot, his nerves and how they connected him to Elvis. You just listen, sipping your drink. Clearly he needs to process everything he went through today.

“I want to apologize for not being able to text more, I was so sucked into character and shooting….” he says holding your hand.

“Whoa,” you hold up your other hand, “I do not need an apology, lover. You got work to do. I get that. I don’t expect you to call or text me when you are shooting. Remember this is supposed to be a non-codependent thing. I love hearing from you, but no pressure.”

“Ok good, I just wanted to make sure in case you felt neglected,” he smiles sheepishly.

You throw back the rest of your drink and climb onto his lap, sitting sideways with your arm around his shoulders.

“Did YOU feel neglected? Cuz I didn’t want to bother you,” you ask, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Baby, you are never a bother. Honestly I didn’t have the spoons to feel much more than nerves today,” he admits, ” but I also don’t mind hearing from you.”

“You got it love, I won’t be afraid to text you and I won’t freak out if you don’t text back right away,” you assure him.

“I’m also gonna be really, really busy, so I don’t know how much time I will have for you,” he looks at you, biting his lip in worry.

“I know,” you take your thumb and pull his bottom lip away from his teeth, easing his worried face, “hence the serious-adjacent situationship. I will joyfully cherish whatever time I can get,” you plant a kiss on his forehead.

“How are you so amazing?” he asks, looking into your eyes.

You shrug, “It’s easy, I’m with you.”

He buries his face in your neck and hair hugging you tight, breathing in the scent of you.

“Baby, you seem to have had a long day,” you decide not to push him for sex tonight.

“Yeah, I did not sleep well last night. I was so nervous. Tonight will be better though,” he says with a smile.

“Why is that?” you ask.

“Cuz… you,” he pulls you in for delicious slow whiskey-kisses. Several minutes later your lips part.

“Are YOU hungry?” he asks with a devilish smile.

“For you? Always. But if you need to rest or study for tomorrow, I totally understand,” you smile at him.

He traces your jawline with his fingertip.

“What I think I need tonight, is you,“ he kisses your neck lightly. “Would it be weird if I sleep here? I have an early call and will probably be gone before you get up. But… I enjoy having you next to me.”

You stand up from his lap, pulling him up to stand with you. “Not weird at all. Now, is sleeping all you need tonight? Or do you want more?” you ask as you lead him into the bedroom.

“Well, I might sleep better if you’d help me get off,” he steps to you, wrapping you in a deep kiss. You can feel your vagina start to tingle with moisture.

“I’m not opposed,” you pull his hoodie up over his head, kissing his chest, licking one of his nipples.

He shudders.

“Do you like that, on your nipples?” you ask.

He nods, “I like more too, biting, sucking,”

“Like this?” you take one in your mouth and gently suck on it.

“Harder,” he says.

You increase your suction.

“Mmm,” his hands go to your head, holding you to him. You take it between your teeth and bite, gently. He moans and grips your head. You pull away, smiling up at him. Excited for a new way to get him going.

“Do the other one,” he pulls your head to his other nipple.

You suck this one a little harder at first and let your hand migrate down to the tentpole at his crotch. You realize he has nothing under his sweatpants. Such a fucking turn on that he made himself so easily accessed.

“Oh god, that’s good,” he is saying. He pulls your head up to meet his, clashing his mouth against yours in heightened need, his tongue thrusting and curling against your own.

He pulls your shirt off over your head and in a flash has your bra off and your shorts pulled down, you too made sure he had easy access.

“What, no unicorn undies for me today?” He chuckles as he runs his hands over your naked ass.

“I’ll be sure to show you my collection sometime,” you say, “however, right now I have other plans.” You pull his waistband up and over the head of his cock, his hard rod bouncing as the rest fall to the floor.

You sit down on the bench at the foot of the bed and immediately take him into your mouth. His velvety smoothness is intoxicating on your bourbon flavored tongue. You slide down his shaft, bobbing your head up and down his length.

“Oh god, yes,” he moans. He grabs your head and pushes himself deep into your throat. Fucking your soft palate just a little, making you gag, then pulling back. You look up at him.

“I love hearing that sound when my cock is in your mouth,” his eyes are fierce with lust.

You suck greedily and nod, your mouth too full of him to agree any other way.

He drives in again, gagging you longer and deeper. You suck in a breath as he pulls out of your mouth, wet with thick spit. Your hand is on him, spreading the wetness. You look up at him, one lip curled up. He wipes your mouth with his thumb. You capture it in your mouth, sucking while you pump his cock with your fist. You? Orally fixated? Nah.

“Here, try this,” you say when he takes his thumb out of your mouth.

You pull his dick to your sternum, and push your tits together around it. Looking down you let a long string of saliva drop into your cleavage. He starts sliding up and down, both hands on your shoulders for balance. The head of his cock is peeking out the top of your squished together breasts with each thrust.

“Oh. My. That is fucking hot to watch, ” he says a little surprised. Maybe he’s never titty fucked anyone before.

You look up into his face, licking your lips, thirst in your eyes. His brows are knit together, his voluptuous bottom lip slack, letting his breath escape in unvoiced “oh’s”. He is watching himself sliding up to your neck and back again through half lidded eyes. Fuck he is so hot when he’s in the throes of pleasure. His eyes lift to find yours, one eyebrow twitches up and as does one the corner of his mouth.

“You wan’ me t’ cum, baby,” he asks breathless, just before his front teeth ruthlessly capture that lower lip.

“Uh huh, right here,” you nod, “give me those pearls, mon Roi de chatte.”

Your hips are rocking onto the seat, dripping onto the smooth wood of the bench. You lean down, open mouthed, your tongue lashing his head each time it crests your tits, teasing his tip. He speeds up.

“OOOHHH YEAH, HAAAAAH!! HAAAAAH!!” He bellows through clenched teeth.

Thick white cream spills all over your tongue and neck and tits. You are practically bouncing on the bench, pussy desperate for attention.

You lean back, moaning, on the foot of the bed, putting your feet up on the bench, knees bent. Your hips are trembling against your wet hand which is rubbing his cum into your clit hard and fast.

Austin is panting, trying to recover.

He leans over you, slips two fingers inside your wetness. You are a little sore, but you really don’t care right now. He starts sliding in and out. His other hand snakes around the back of your head, his forehead planted on yours.

“Fuck baby, you are so hot dripping with my cum.” He intones between puffs of breath.

What pushes you over the edge is the feeling of his cum dripping down your neck and along your sides. You arch, head pushed back against his hand, he pushes deep inside you and flicks those long fingers against your g spot. “Ohhh Yaaaaaaahhhhssss,” you wail, hips shaking against his hand.

You grab his hand as he starts sliding in and out again.

“No, no stop, I’m good,” you pant, “thank you lover.”

He answers you with a sweet, loving kiss, which you return.

“What did you call me? Just before I came, wah dushat?” Austin asks.

“Oh, did I say that?” you press your lips together, slightly embarrassed.

“Uh oh, what does it mean? Do I need to take offense?” he jokes.

“No no. It’s just a little corny. It means King of my Pussy,” you start laughing.

“I’m not mad at that, I think you should call me that all the time,” he laughs.

After yet another shower, you climb into bed. Austin pulls out papers from his hoodie pocket and climbs in next to you. Propped up on a pillow and one arm around you he pulls you in close.

“Oh yes, this is much better than last night,” he says under his breath.

“Whatcha got there?” you ask, indicating the papers.

“Script pages for tomorrow, although who knows what Baz will actually have me doing,” he says.

“Are you allowed to read them to me?” you ask.

“Technically no, since you haven’t signed any waiver, but I trust you. Do you want to read the other part with me?” he offers.

“I can try. It may not be good,” you are a little apprehensive.

“Doesn't matter, it just helps to have someone read the other lines,” he assures you.

Curled up on his chest, reading from the same pages, you go over the scene a few times. At first you are tentative. You ask a few questions about who’s lines these are, then throw caution to the wind and get into it.

“Damn baby, you are doing great! Your southern accent is spot on,” he says, impressed.

"Thanks babe,” you wag your tail, smiling.

“If you want, I could talk to Baz and get you on set as an extra. I mean it’d not be talking but… “ he offers.

“Oh, no no.” You roll on top of him to be face to face. “ I am the thing that is NOT Elvis in your life right now. Plus, I don’t think I could bear watching you be Elvis and not have your hands on me. When this movie comes out, I may not be able to see it in a theatre cuz it’s gonna make me so fucking horny. I will leave the seat wet!”

“Or we could just rent out the whole theater and I could play with your pussy the whole time,” he smiles and bites his lip.

“Oh that is happening for sure,” you smile wickedly.

“That’s an experience I look forward to, after all I’m the King of your pussy,” he says giggling.

“Oui, Mon Roi, et je suis ton chaton excité.” you lick your lips and kiss him.

[youarethedancingdean]

Day 6 of @steddie-week

Prompt: Misunderstandings, You looking at me, looking at you - Ozzy Osbourne

Eddie's Journal

- Keep out!! -

- Seriously!! -

Do you even realize that things have changed between us? I didn't expect us to be the same forever, but you seem to keep secrets from me nowadays. You barely talk anymore, if you do it's nothing of substance; we need milk, who picks Dustin up from the station?, I'll do the dishes, you pick your hair out of the sink. It's all just errands and tasks and daily business, no sweet nothing, no I love you...

Sometimes I wonder if it was all just a dream. If you never really loved me to begin with and I just wanted you to so badly that I made you pretend. Nancy says I'm dramatic for thinking that and perhaps I am, but it's hard to see past the change.

You're definitely keeping something from me and it's driving me insane. Is it someone else? I'd let you go, you know. I love you so much that all I want is for you to be happy. I'm used to misery and people leaving me behind, so go and be happy with them. I want you to.

I don't want to lose you, but it's hard to hold on. I know you see the way my eyes turn sad when I look at you these days and I wonder why you never say anything about it. You have to care about how you make me feel, right? You always have. What changed? What did I do?

I should probably talk to you about all this, but a tiny part of me thinks I'm exaggerating. Perhaps you didn't really change and you don't want to leave, but I expect you to because people always have.

Steve Harrington, I love you with all I have. It's not much, I know, but it has to count for something. Why don't you-

"Eddie?! Come on we gotta go!" Steve called from the living room. Eddie sighed and pushed his journal and pen into his ratty shoulder bag (he didn't leave it laying around anymore for obvious reasons) and grabbed the bag to leave with his boyfriend. Steve had something planned that just sounded like a nice way to break up with him in Eddie's head and they were apparently running late already.

They had a nice dinner that Eddie could barely enjoy. It wasn't too fancy, which he appreciated, but it was nice in theory nonetheless. A good pick for a last supper.

"So, when are you doing it? Could you just rip off the band-aid and break up with me already? I've suffered enough, I really have." They stood at a pretty place outside the city, a small river flowing in the not too far distance and the noise of the last birds of the evening in the air. A shame he wouldn't be able to come here again after tonight.

Steve looked at him with wide, worried eyes. "I noticed you were picking up on something, but I didn't want to ruin the surprise. God, I had no idea how bad it was. Babe, I'm never going to leave you," he clarified hurriedly. "You cannot promise that," Eddie whispered sadly. "No, I suppose I can't. But I'm not leaving you, okay? I love you and this is so far from a break-up date." Eddie searched Steve's face for lies, but couldn't find any. That didn't mean anything these days, though.

"Then what is this? You barely talk to me for weeks and then you take me out somewhere. What am I supposed to think?" he questioned, his voice wasn't angry, just disappointed and flat.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, if you let me," Steve responded, gentle smile on his face. He took Eddie's hand in one of his and moved to get on one knee in front of it. "A blow job isn't going to cut it, Harrington," Eddie pointed out with a raised brow. "Do you really think as little of you and me that you can't see what I'm doing?" Steve chuckled.

He took a deep breath then, looked up at Eddie in front of him and gave him a loving smile. "I'm not good at keeping secrets, I fuck up when I try in one way or another. This time I hurt you and I'm so so sorry I did. It wasn't my intention. You see, this had to be a surprise and since we share everything usually it was hard to keep it. I love you, Eddie Munson. More than I ever loved anything. And I wanted to ask you this for a while now.

"Will you make me the happiest man alive and dead and marry me?"

Oh-

"What? Steve, you know I would, but we can't. We're both guys, remember?" Eddie responded in confusion.

Steve laughed warmly, he didn't know what else he had expected. "I know we can't, not officially at least. But I wanna celebrate us somehow anyways. I wanna celebrate a pretend wedding to show you how much I mean it when I say I'm not leaving. Nancy would officiate, which should feel weirder than it does. I already picked my best man," he explained.

"You want a wedding. Of course you do," Eddie replied with a short laugh. He should've known that Steve wouldn't leave him. He'd promised so many times before. "We'll have a wedding then," Eddie smiled widely before he didn't. He pointed at Steve with his free hand, "Henderson is my best man." Steve scoffed, "No way, I've known him longer. He is mine!"

[demonsfate]

Can I just say, from one Jin stan to the other, that you've been dropping banger after banger? You're doing gods work with your posts. And seriously, I'm OK if they're gonna make Jin the guy who had a "villain" phase (as long as it makes sense, but we all know it DIDN'T make much sense before). The only thing I'm not OK with is his sudden change of demeanor around the people who originally wanted to stop him, like you say, LARS. HOW ON EARTH did they become buddies??? Bc the only explanation I can think of is Jin saying he wasn't himself during the events of 6. Like maybe it was indirectly his fault bc he couldn't control DJ but that was still DJ. I can sort of believe Lars would buy that, after a long talk (if that was the case)? Either way I need the game/leaks/spoilers now bc instead of answers I'm getting more questions???? I know you must be tired of this topic but just wanted to let you know my thoughts

Thank you,,,,,,, and honestly it's glad to see other Jin stans who call out the BS of the writing instead of just turning to Hate the character. Jin was a really wonderful character! And it's just depressing to see how hated he is because of that awful Character Assassination.

I just think that making Jin a villain already ruins his character, no matter how it's written. Just because Jin was a character who was supposed to be the Good Mishima (before Jinpachi and Lars came into the series) and Jin was also meant to be a bit of a contrast to Kazuya's character. Also, Jin's a Kazama, too. By making him a vilain, it just shatters all of those very important points to the story.

Buuuut... let's just ignore that and say even if Jin being a villain made sense, Tek6 literally does the worst execution of it. As I've explained multiple times here; his motivations quickly fall apart when you start to really think about it. He's also extremely inconsistent - and I don't just mean compared to the entire series, I mean even in that one game alone, he's extremely inconsistent, and his character's just all over the place. It's all poorly written even IF Jin being a bad guy made sense or if he was always the bad guy. It's sad there exists lots who can't criticize it more, or just take it as canon and expect us all to, as well.

That's why I thought they were gonna retcon it; Lars being friendly with Jin WOULD make more sense if he found out Jin was either being "controlled" or his body was taken over. Because he'll realize Jin feels guilty over something that wasn't directly his fault. And, well... Alisa may help Lars understand the situation, as Alisa was forced to do bad things (such as try to kill Lars) while under the control of somebody else. Lars cares for Alisa, and realizes she'd never do such a thing otherwise. I feel that would make him more sympathetic toward Jin. And there you go! That's a way to explain why Lars is nicer to Jin all of a sudden, and how to make the protagonist not a fucking war criminal.

I did say I would talk more about Tek6 SHOULD the game give me more reason to. And sadly... Tek8 ABSOLUTELY gave me more reason to bring it up. Unfortunately, it did for all of us. But yeahhhh... I also just wish the game was here so I can rip the band-aid off already. I gotta know if they're really still going with the "I did the war to destroy the devil gene!" Or if that first four minutes is out of context, and there's actually much to learn.

[simiansmoke]

@koopzilla

Bowser. I need you. Kidnap me, please! You're the only one worthy of my kingdom. Marry me! I love you! Take me into your arms! I gotta pee. Wake up.

"... Whaaa...?"

That is not a routine exert from the princess dream. Eyelids dragged open collapsed a moment later. Whilst smacking his chops, his claw wandered blindly, seeking out the sugary drink that is supposed to be at his bedside. It only finds fluff.

Behind closed eyes, the king leaned forward and burrowed his muzzle into the kong's stomach. Bowser blew hard, treating it like a common tissue! Not even his sheets are spared his rotten tyranny. Worse yet, he smeared the gunk in as he rubbed his face in! The brute nearly gouged his teddy's arm as he recklessly threw his horns about.

However, as Bowser wiped his nose and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his error became clear. This is not his bed. That is not his sheet! His arm became a golden blur: he snatched the kong by the side of his face and ripped him off his gut as carelessly a child would a blanket. "W-- GET OFF ME!!"

------

Oh, finally. He thought it was going to be like trying to wake a boulder, but the Koopa king finally stirred from his slumber. He emits a grunt at each blow his jaw commits to the pinned Kong's stomach as if each innocent smack of chops were a punch to the gut. "Oof-..." He really needed to strategize a warm place to sleep that didn't involve this sort of morning routine.

There's a brief moment he thinks that Bowser's about to settle back down and deny him his opportunity to escape the unfortunate fate of being the Koopa's chin rest for the night, and alarmed at that - DK gives the side of the other's snout a few firm pats to rouse him. "Hey...c'mon!" The action seems to help Bowser blast a load of hot Koopa snot all over the pinned Kong, and for a moment - DK is speechless.

It's only after the vigorous nose rubbing commences into his fur like he's a handkerchief that he shudders and out right slaps the other upside the head.

"LET ME UP, YOU GROSSFUCK!" His fur was going to smell so bad until he could find a hotspring...

As he's ripped off Bowser like a Band-Aid (a still sticky one), the slapping sound he makes once his snotty body hits the floor accompanies another groan and an attempt to rise under his sticky bindings. "...y'know, you might wanna check to see if your brain came out in all that." Insinuating it was definitely small enough to roll out of the other's nostrils.

[seaoftales]

The poor girl was absolutely speechless, and to a degree, the Yonko found it slightly amusing. He supposed that his name carried some weight to it, but it never got to the point where one would lose their ability to speak. He could only imagine that kindness wasn't something often extended either to her, or generally the small, quaint village they made port at, but he also wasn't one to assume, nor would he really pry for more information about it unless it naturally came up to the conversation. The last thing he wanted was to make her even more speechless than she already was.

❝ I thought as much, ❞ the redhead chuckled, casually leaning back in his seat. ❝ No wonder it tastes so good then. You can tell the difference. Drink's got heart, not like that bulk stuff they make. ❞ He'd never say no to either, but the homemade stuff just hit different, and it was a very clear favourite of his. He even made himself a little mental note to ask the owner if he'd be willing to part with a bottle or two for the right price once they'd be taking their leave.

Grey eyes looked over at the blonde, almost as if he was considering what to say next. Silence was always awkward, even for him, no matter the fact that his crew did fill it with chatter and laughter amongst themselves, but never being too loud, mindful of the other remaining patrons in the bar. ❝ There's no need to be this flustered, you know. ❞ Shanks opted to just rip off the imaginary band aid and call her out on it. ❝ I'm just a normal guy like any other, living my best life. I bet half the stories you've heard about me aren't even true! ❞ Not that he could do anything about it. Rumors were half of why people respected him, and in part feared him, or so he liked to think.

❝ Gotta say, you did good standing up to those idiots. You probably have to deal with that sort all the time. ❞

The thugs had yet to chase Melody away, solely because she was too stubborn to leave. However, they were pushing things dangerously close to her snapping. How would the old man react if she revealed her Devil Fruit? She wasn’t trying to draw attention to herself, but absolutely detested being touched by strangers and also wouldn’t stand for the old man being mistreated. He deserved better.

She’d just taken a sip of her drink when Beckman rose, other members of the crew following. She looked around, somewhat bewildered. Her eyes cut over to the old man, but he didn’t seem to care and was busy doing inventory, completely ignoring the remaining pirates and herself.

Just like that Red Hair and his crew were going to solve their problem? She wasn’t used to people just helping one another without a catch and she’d never known pirates to be so generous.

Blue eyes met the Yonko’s once more, his smile disarming her. His smile was so easy going, it was hard not to return it. She nodded after a moment, once more feeling heat in her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, remembering how to talk. She hated how starstruck she was; he was just a man and the dream of someday arresting him had long since died.

“Uhm… how do you like it?” she asked, nodding to his own glass. She wasn’t sure what else to say, she was terrible at small talk. “The old man brews it himself,” to which the old guy grunted, but gave no other indication that he was listening to them.

[writingoflarka]

"It's Bruce"

He was ready. That's what Bruce kept thinking to himself as he sat at the round table. He was ready, and they had to be too. After everything they'd been through. Years and years of mental preparation had brought him here. Kept him sane.

In reality there would be no right time or moment to lift the cowl and expose himself. There wouldn't be a time to pull someone aside and reveal his identity in a way that wasn't awful. So he had to rip the band-aid off. Just say it. Wait for his opening.

"Are we still sure it's not Luthor?" Barry asked, staring pointedly. "All this money being put into making rockets and a space station seems incredibly Luthor-like."

"Then why isn't his name on it?" Ollie asked. "You think we'd be seeing that giant L slapped over everything."

"Luthor probably would want to explore space," Arthur mumbled from his seat. "Never mind Earth hasn't even fully explored the ocean yet."

"Do you want Lex Luthor in the ocean?" Hal asked.

"No, I live there."

Clark huffed in his seat, looking flustered. "I told you it wasn't him. I would know if Lex was up to something."

"Are you sure?" Barry asked again, and Hal joined him in the stare down. "Last time you said he was behaving, he tried to run for president."

"No no no," Hal chimed in. "The last time he said that, Luthor tried to buy Twitter."

"How was I supposed to stop that?" Clark bristled.

"Superman couldn't," Hal said. "Clark Kent could've."

"What? No?"

"No he has a point," Ollie nodded. "Clark Kent could've done something."

"No he could not!" Clark slapped the table. "I mean he couldn't. I couldn't. Batman, help me out here."

"It's Bruce."

There. band-aid removed. He was free. Now what were they talking about again?

"Bruce?" Barry blinked. "Like Bruce Wayne?"

This was going well. "Yes?"

"Bruce Wayne is our bad guy?" Barry asked.

Wait.

"I knew it," Arthur said. "Never trust a rich man."

"Aren't you the King of Atlantis," Hal asked.

Bruce's jaw clenched. "No I-"

"Bruce Wayne is evil," Barry leaned back in his chair. "But he always seemed so nice."

"I mean he is from Gotham. Everyone's kinda evil there," Ollie shrugged, adding. "No offense, Bats."

"I-"

"What does Bruce Wayne have against space?" Clark looked offended. "Are there no orphans in space?"

"Hey..."

"As someone who frequents space, I have plenty against it," Hal said. "But jeez Spooky, that's gotta suck for you."

Bruce stared at the table, grimacing. This had taken a sharp left turn. Why did he open his mouth? He should've waited longer. He leaned forward putting his head on the table. To keep the redness from his face.

"Batman, I can literally hear your heart pounding," Clark leaned towards him. "Are you okay?"

"Of course he's not okay. He just found out he has another super villain on his hands!" Barry reached over, patting him on the shoulder. "It'll be okay. We'll help."

"Please don't help," Bruce mumbled.

It was too late. They were already making plans. Bruce groaned into the table. Maybe it was better to put the band-aid back on.

[sunjaesol]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

[bondsmagii]

How do you let go of someone who you deeply love but you know is hurting you?

if the relationship between the two of you is still ongoing, and you know it's bad for you and you want out, then my answer is the same as a lot of difficult things: cold turkey. get out of there and don't look back. be harsh with yourself and don't give in. with stuff like this, there is no right time to do it. you have to rip that band-aid off quickly and then get to healing. the longer you leave it, the longer you'll suffer, and the more damage you'll have to heal from. love is not always nice to you. it's not invalid because the person wasn't right for you, but it is not your friend right now. sometimes you have to be very firm about this. to voluntarily allow that love to turn to grief is a scary thing, but it will be better for you in the long run.

it it's over, you just gotta give it time, man. it sucks, but that's really all there is to it. I suppose it depends on how ruthless you want to be -- when I had to do this with somebody I loved, I went through and got rid of everything we'd ever done together/that reminded me of him, including over a million messages exchanged over the years, and I found that this really helped me let go and move on because I couldn't keep tormenting myself reading over old messages/looking at old stuff. for some people that might be too much, though, so really it's a case by case basis.

most of all, remember that you deserve better. you don't deserve to be hurt, and while it'll be awful and tough for a long time, it will always be better in the end. give yourself the life you deserve. nobody has the right to hurt you.

[blushing-starker]

Anon asked for alpha Peter and omega Tony for a baby announcement. Thank you to the wonderful @vaguekiwi for motivating me and sharing her thoughts on the story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, anon.

"Tony, Tony? Are you up? It's 7:30am already, you have a meeting with Miss Potts in forty minutes. Tony?"

Soft hands curl into already silver hair, scratching at the strands in an attempt to wake him up gently. Butterfly kisses on a cold nape, a ridiculously hot nose nuzzling everywhere. Peter knows scenting the billionaire is basically the only way one can ensure a calm morning.

Not today. And not for the next few months either.

He loves his husband, appreciates the nearly romantic demeanor, he does. But "unless you have a cup of coffee for me, there is no way in hell i am gonna leave this bed. your child has kept me up with nausea the entire night. I wanna hurl my guts out more than that time Rhodes found Dad's liquor cabinet. please, tell me you have coffee."

"..." Tony is severely displeased by the fact he can read Peter like a book even with half his mind shut off because fine, he's right and dammit all.

"I want that weird drink you make. The one with milk, cinnamon and chunks of brownie. And French toast with waffles. No jam, not too much butter, as much sugar as possible. Now, go before I scream at you for having the only dick that could get a hormone fucked forty something omega pregnant. "

The kid scrambles from bed, practically face plants with all the covers tangling long legs and yup, this is the person that the universe designated as his soulmate. Because Tony Stark can never have a partner with a reasonable, normal amount of enthusiasm, stamina and a sense of balance.

That sounds like he's ungrateful, he's not. But it turns out being three months pregnant gives him plenty of perspective to peer at life in a whole new way that does not include caffeine, alcohol or sex.

Would he kill and die for this amazing human being that makes Tony's heart race no matter the day, that inspires him to be a better version of himself? Yes, no questions asked. No hesitation and no regret.

Would he clobber Peter for doing the impossible and technically causing Tony incredible discomfort on a daily basis thanks to what his doctors can only assume is a superhuman baby he already loves and adores more than life itself? Also yes.

Things aren't mutually exclusive in this household.

Pep, bless her, has yet to find out about their future mini Parker so there's been no respite on the whole 'running a multi billion dollar industry ' thing. And yeah, while it's not exactly easy, he can focus on other things and not fall into a panicky state of mind — because him? A father? Of a super baby? Tony Stark, infamous playboy with a hedonistic streak, a dad?

Just thinking along those lines makes shame and self doubt slither over a metallic plate. Working, dealing with innovative scientists, crafting the new world of tomorrow, guaranteeing the safety of their planet, shapeshifting into a role model, a mentor (for the interns and school kids he visits, not Peter, of course, thank God they left that dynamic ages ago), loyal friend, reluctant errand boy (fuck the assholes in charge of the Accords), great husband, good man, it all distracts a fearful child from thinking, what if I turn into Howard?

"I couldn't find brownies, so cookies it is! Aunt May had a few boxes sent in when I told her work was keeping you on your feet all the time. Said it'd be a good idea to snack along the day in case you—" Peter freezes, tenses with a not-so-narrow back held ramrod straight. Oh, his husband brought him breakfast in bed.

How could he ever think to clobber such a nice, wonderful—

"Your scent is odd."

"Yeah, well fuck you too then."

Five seconds of silence.

"I'm bringing you one cup of coffee and the hormone pills."

" Yup, that's a great idea. "

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

Tony’s mumbo jumbo with self loathing is firmly put on the back burner after inhaling a delicious breakfast and chugging that one glorious cup of coffee. Until they go to the bathroom and he sees himself in the mirror.

"We gotta tell them."

"You said you wanted to wait a while before saying anything."

Peter strips, ducks into the warm shower, lets out a pleased little sigh and Tony wants to rip his fingernails off. Is it bad, having sex while pregnant? No! The doctors, every single one of them, said it's a perfectly normal thing to do. It'd be bad if they didn't have sex because Tony, thanks to his crazy hormone production, needs the extra attention for his body to understand this is a happy process that shouldn't include sad pheromones or stressed out moments. Will Peter put him out of his misery and allow a quickie in the mornings? No.

"Take more than five minutes in that shower and I'm joining you."

Listen, he grew up in the 80's and 90's, Tony wasn't immune to peer pressure. Did he cave and eventually do so many squat competitions with Rhodey his butt turned into a duck's butt? There's no evidence, he's made sure, but yes. And Starks have always turned out to be beautiful, doesn't matter your gender or age. Finding a companion for the night has never been a problem for anyone in his family tree.

That, and his work as Iron Man has kept him — well, not ripped like Cap, certainly not as lean and (God help him) athletic as Peter, but fit. Sturdy. Firm. Solid. (Peter once muttered the words 'daddy-like' in regards to his body and he nearly choked on water.)

The passage of time has made him a bit slower, dusted once black hair with, as his husband says, stardust and the corners of his eyes now show how much time Tony spends laughing or frowning. All in all, he looks fucking spectacular for his age and experience as a villain-punching-bag. Thing is, he has a belly. A bump. A curve where it was once, well. Less curvy. Is it a problem for Peter? Nope, as acknowledged every time his alpha tackles him if he so much as looks oddly in the mirror. Is it a problem for him? He'll get back to you on that.

The point is, there's a belly when just a few months ago there wasn't such a pronounced belly. It's great, of course. Proof their child is growing steadily and Tony's body is adjusting to it accordingly. A small part of him, the omega part he actually lets live, is fascinated and proud. He's doing that, Tony's the one growing a human being, creating life out of nothing in his own body. That child, although not the only physical embodiment of their relationship, is a result of his love for Peter. Of how much his husband loves him. They love each other so much they're gonna start another family together. That chokes him up a bit, reminds him how grateful he is for Peter and for the other Avengers. If they hadn't been so accepting of his status, would he have ever considered going through with this?

Anyway, he's not gonna start sobbing this early in the morning when there's no alcohol involved. It's fantastic seeing his child develop, good, warm and fuzzy feelings, yada yada yada, it's also not very easy to hide. And Tony...Tony wanted to hide it from his family because.

Because Peter hasn't been the only partner in all his life that has wondered about a future with a white picket fence. Because when he was Peter's age, in his goddamn prime, a doctor, ten doctors, all the doctors told him the same thing, smashed his dream into a million pieces. Tony was nearly infertile. There was a one in a million chances of him getting pregnant. If he did, they couldn't be sure his body would be able to maintain two hearts. And then the cave happened.

So yeah. It happened to his cousins, his aunt, a few uncles, his grandmother. Tony would do a baby announcement, but only the second that baby was outside of him and safely in his arms. Now there are still several months left and nothing certain. But time is a bitch and beginning to show the world, maybe those extra pounds aren't from eating the Parker's amazing breakfasts.

"Tony, you know I don't wanna risk-" Losing control of my strength. They've been together long enough that Tony can see quite clearly between the lines.

"Hurting us, yeah, I know, I understand. I'm getting too wide, we're gonna have to tell them or Natasha will take one look at me and whoops, impromptu announcement from someone else. It's a miracle she was out on those missions when we found out." Thank God for renegade troops.

He's still looking at himself in the mirror when Peter comes out, barely dries up and slides behind him. His husband is slightly taller now, can easily hook a curved jaw on Tony's shoulder to peer at the image they make. Contrasts, he supposes, have always enthralled Tony. The study of light and shadow. Variations of the same basic components. Where his body is aging, showing signs of wear and tear, Peter's is evolving into something beautiful, majestic. Silver hair, chestnut brown. Scarred canvas, silky smooth and sunkissed skin. Soft, fragile curves, chiseled lines that deserve to be revered more than Michelangelo’s David. But their eyes, their eyes are equally tired.

“We can tell them if you want, have dinner together and just, just say it. Like that -”

“No. It's our kid, we're not gonna act like it's ripping off a band aid. This is special, unique. Dinner is good. Fantastic, actually. Wait for dessert, and announce it. “ Peter comes ever closer, wraps arms that could carry the world around him and how did he get so lucky?

They've lied to each other in the past. Mostly in the beginning, when they were too worried about hurting their new relationship to show their desires and wants. Tony didn't explain the Training Wheels Protocol. Peter tried to fight high level crime on his own. Things got hard to understand, like being in the right place at the wrong time. Puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together, an extra inch of space prohibiting them from seeing all the possibilities that the truth could bring. They were walking the same path, just in parallel lines that never crossed.

But then he'd been rejected, thrown away and able to realize how fucking stupid it was to let Peter go when being near the kid, it felt like finally breathing after residing in the deep end of a pool for a thousand years. So Tony ran after him one day, crashed into his AP English class, half assed an excuse for the baffled teacher, yanked Peter out of the room and proceeded to have the best make out session of his life with his back against the kid's locker. And now they don't lie, ever.

Which is why it's so hard to accept Peter's, “You're beautiful, Tony. The handsomest man I've ever seen in my life. I loved you before, I love you now, I'll love you forever, Anthony Stark. You carrying our kid doesn't change that, how could it, Tony? It's going to be ok. The three of us will be ok and I won't stop thanking whoever decided I'd get to marry my wet dream.”

Scorching kisses trace his pulse point slowly, sharp nails start dragging against a too thin shirt, but it's the fact that Peter hasn't looked away from him, is confidently holding his gaze through the glass, that makes Tony shudder and stop breathing.

The bathroom is flooded with pheromones, cinnamon and honey assaulting an unprepared billionaire, and he'll die if they stay like this, can't function properly, brain switching gears, trying valiantly to remember baseball stats, past wounds, May's cooking because Peter's gonna wreck his sanity if those hands keep winding down, if those lips don't stop unraveling him like a Christmas present.

“If I'd known you'd get this handsy and romantic, I would have complained about how I look earlier." It's a gasp, half murmur, half plea as Peter grins at him shamelessly. “I know it's rude and wrong and sexist, but I like comforting my omega, acting like a stereotypical alpha. Makes me feel like I'm doing my job of making you happy. “

He quirks an eyebrow, is glad Peter can be comfortable enough to take the reins every once in a while. “You're telling me that assuring me I'm still drop dead gorgeous, “ his husband snorts, nips at Tony's shoulder for that quip, “ makes you horny because you feel like an alpha comforting, and I quote, ‘your omega’? “

Peter reverts back to the shy teenager who could barely ask a girl out to the homecoming dance, ducks his head into Tony’s neck with a blush quickly spreading over damp skin. “Well, I've got news for you, sweetheart. Your wet dream also thoroughly enjoys it so you better break tradition and have sex with me to remind me I'm the hottest man you've ever seen. "

He's actually serious about this, his self esteem hasn't exactly been, you know, the best and Tony's mood always improves significantly after playing around in bed with Peter. Besides, it's a sign of trust. Peter won't hurt him or their child, will be able to hold back his strength. He always does.

Listen, it's not exactly moral, but he has more than enough problems to go ahead and analyze his attraction and dependency on Peter while pregnant.

“So, I can distract you from your bad thoughts by acting sort of possessive and taking you to bed? " Oh, he adores when his husband is afraid of showing a new side of himself and asks for permission ever so sweetly.

“Babe, if you don't, I'll kick you out of the apartment. Give me possessive Peter Parker any day you want, like I'm gonna complain about a gorgeous, brilliant twenty something year old all over me. Now what's it gonna be, alpha dear, bathroom or bedroom? I wouldn't mind the tile but, oh God, I forgot you could pick me up." Tony clings to broad shoulders, can't help but laugh because aren't they a pair?

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

After having what he's sure was the best sex of his life, Tony stumbles out of the bedroom with torn clothes, a dazed look in his eyes and several bruises blossoming around his neck. Peter's halfway out the doorway when Tony whistles, makes sure all their family is paying attention, blurts out, “Peter and I are having a kid. I'm pregnant, woohoo, it's great, it's amazing, save your congratulations for later. We'll do a proper thing soon, if anyone interrupts and they're not dying, I'll kill you myself. See you in a few hours, " and yanks him back in while Friday activates Sock on the Doorknob Protocol.

Rhodey and Nat clink glasses while waiting on the others to pay up on their bets regarding Tony and Peter's odd behavior.

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

Later, much later, like, two days later, they have a proper dinner with their family in the tower. There are balloons and streamers, cake and ice cream, warm hugs and gentle cheek kisses, subtle tears and full on weeping (Happy had to borrow a box of Kleenex), pictures and videos and a pile of gifts taller than Tony.

The most important thing, though, is that the A.I recorded the reaction after Clint asked about baby names. He's grateful they went to the doctor before tonight. The visit revealed a treasure Tony thought he'd never have. Now it's time to reveal it to their pack.

His husband snuggles up to him, is so ecstatic the whole dining room smells like cinnamon and honey, like joyous love he'll never get enough of. Tony grins at him, curls their hands together and repeats the same thing over and over again in his head.

It'll be ok. They'll be ok. If the universe keeps giving Tony the greatest gifts he could ever want, maybe it's time he stopped looking at the horse's mouth. That's how it goes, right? Right.

He turns to look at Peter, loves him so much it aches, feels tiny feet pressing against his stomach. Guesses he's not the only one smitten with this incredible human being.

“We were thinking Marie,” Peter smiles at him, eyes lit up and lovely.

Tony is never going to forget this moment, this warmth in his chest.

“And Benjamin Parker-Stark.”

Their family loses their shit and both Friday and Karen have ample proof.

(@puppypeter look, omega tones! @tonystarkisaslut thank you so much for allowing me to use the prompt board! I am still accepting prompts! Although I can't guarantee getting them ready within a few days, I'll try to finish them on the one week mark depending on how long the fic is!)

[dameronology]

a world on fire {poe dameron}

summary: passion is good, fire is good - but breathing is more important (based loosely on just a lover by hayley williams, naturally) 

warnings: mentions of infidelity, language 

i just love angst. i really love angst. i like to hurt. enjoy :)

- jazz xx

Poe Dameron was a paradox. 

On one hand, he was a complete bad-ass. The best pilot in the Resistance and righthand man to the General. He was a leader in the making and everybody looked up to him, even when he was chaotic as fuck. The way he went into battle with his common sense both simultaneously present and no-where to be found would go down in the history books. His parents’ spirit and good-natured lived on through his selflessness. He was untouchable, in a way; a man made of titanium with a never-ending wit and a will of steel. A hero. 

On the other hand, he was...Poe. Your Poe. The man whose eyes lit up when he spoke about his late mother; the man who turned up at your door at 5AM in floods of tears because he’d just finished a book and had to tell you about it.  Poe with the warm brown eyes and lopsided smile, whose brows creased together whenever he got a little confused about something. Poe, who left you little notes around the base when he knew you were sad, and brought you random gifts back from his trips to other planets just because. Completely complex and yet entirely understandable, but one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, inside and out. 

Especially now. At 5am, under the thick canopies of the Ajan Kloss jungle; the air around you was stuffy and fresh in equal measures, casting a cold chill over your bare arms and legs. It was raining, but not really. The sort of dumb rain where you smell it in the air and see it hit the ground, but never quite feel it on your skin. Poe had called it soft rain. Still, you would have taken it over a storm, because you only wearing a baggy old shirt and some pyjama shorts. 

Poe was stood opposite you in a similar attire - except instead of opting for boots, he was still wearing his Ewok slippers (albeit, slightly soggy Ewoks). You were perched on a log with the pilot stood a few feet away; he’d been ranting for the better part of fifteen minutes, but you’d zoned out long ago. His dark curls were sticking to his forehead thanks to the rain, and he had that spark in his eyes that they held whenever he was talking about something he loved. It was an easy sight to get lost in. 

‘Anyways, so I know you took dances classes a kid and I was thinking you could help me-’

‘- woah, when did we get to that?’ You blinked in surprise. 

Poe rolled his eyes. ‘You zoned out again, didn’t you?’

‘I’m sorry!’ You groaned. ‘It’s late - or early, I can’t tell.’

‘You’re a nightmare.’ He shook his head with a laugh and stuck his hand out to you. ‘C’mon. You can make it up to me by teaching me to dance.’

‘I don’t dance, Dameron-’

You let out a squeak when he took your hands in his, wrenching you up and off the bench. Stumbling for a moment, your chests collided, an easy balance settling over you as steadied you with an arm to the waist. You were in his eyeline now, the perfect position to hold his gaze in yours and just...stare. It wasn’t something you did often, but right now, it was impossible not to. He was smiling ear to ear, honey eyes creased at the side as he dragged you away from your little safe spot and into a dirt clearing, mid-Jungle. 

He held you flush against his body, intertwining your fingers. What the fuck were you supposed to do? You didn’t dance. Hadn’t for years, and you were beginning to regret showing Poe those pictures of you in ballet class. It was comical that he thought you knew how to ballroom dance, or at least know enough to teach him enough for his first dance. You felt your throat dry up at that thought, quickly pushing it to the back of your throat. 

‘There’s no music, Poe.’ You tried to pull away, but his grip on your hands only grew tighter. 

‘When have we ever needed music?’ Poe softly smiled. He pulled you closer, trying to fight back a laugh as he comically swayed from side to side. 

Your eyes fell to the floor, and you forced a smile. ‘You gotta keep your back straighter.’ 

‘Got it. Posture is key.’ He adjusted his stance. ‘Anything else I oughta know?’

‘You should lead.’ You continued. ‘Because you’re taller.’

‘And how do I do that, chief?’

‘Just...go in whatever direction feels right. No harsh turns, just kinda make it flow, y’know?’

‘Like this?’

He moved his hand to the small of your back, pulling you in the other direction. You almost tripped as he did, burying your head in his shoulder to suppress a laugh. His body shook with a chuckle, mirroring yours. 

‘There’s this song my mum used to sing to me at bedtime.’ He softly said. ‘I don’t remember the words, but I know the tune.’

‘Are you implying that I’m about to get a live performance?’ You lifted your head up to look at him. 

‘You did say that we needed music.’

You stayed like that for a moment, bodies mere inches apart, swaying side to side. Poe murmured a soft tune; it was familiar, like a sweet and distant childhood memory, softly filling the air around you. You kept your arms circled around his waist, shirt balled up in your fists and head planted firmly in his shoulders. He didn’t know it, but it was a moment of pure desperation, wanting to cling onto him for dear fucking life. This might be the last time you were this close; the last time you could ever have him hold you in this way. You would have given anything, not just in the galaxy, but far beyond that, to stay like this a little longer. Just you and him, closer than you’d ever been, under the golden glow of the Ajan Kloss moonlight and the soft sprinkle of the rain.

‘Do you think I’ve got it?’ He asked quietly.

‘Yeah.’ You murmured. ‘You do.’

‘I appreciate you, sweetheart.’ He smiled. ‘Can’t be making a fool of myself at my own wedding, right?’

His wedding. Not your wedding. Just his, and a girl you’d barely made the effort to get to know.

That was your own fault - a mixture of jealousy and guilt, probably. Jealousy, because she was getting to marry the man you’d loved for as long as you could remember, and guilt, because you’d fallen into bed with that man several times since he’d put the ring on her finger. You could barely look her in the eye, knowing what you’d done - but it had never stopped you. Every time was supposed to be the last time, but then it became a past time. 

Sneaking about behind her back, promising it would never happen again, only to fall between the sheets mere weeks later. It was never about love, or cementing anything long term. It wasn’t because Poe wanted to be with you instead or because he was trying to sabotage his engagement. It was just...it was one of things that could never quite be explained. You loved one another more than life itself, in an all consuming, debilitating way, but it never worked out when you tried. You didn’t want to be together, but you didn’t want to be with anyone else. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. 

Then there were moments like this; just you and him, against the backdrop of a vast galaxy but unable to think about anything else or look at anyone else. The whole world could have been up in flames and neither of you would have noticed. It didn’t matter where you were, or what you were doing. As long as you had Poe, you had everything. 

But that was about to change. He was marrying someone else, and this whole thing would have to stop. Not just the sneaking about and the stolen kisses - in reality, that never have started in the first place - but everything. Because even if Poe completely dedicated himself to his wife-to-be, and demoted you to just a friend, you could never manage it. You were like two ends of a magnet, completely unable to stay away from one another. You’d already crossed too many lines.

‘Poe.’ You softly murmured. Your hands dropped back to your sides, letting go of your grip on his shirt. ‘This has to stop now.’

His smile softened. ‘Is my dancing that bad?’

‘Not your dancing, dumbass.’ Your pained tone didn’t quite match your words. ‘Us.’ 

‘Right. That.’ Poe sniffed. He let go of you, backing over to where you’d been sat on the log a few moments prior. 

A small sigh escaped your lips, and you trudged across the muddy ground, taking a seat beside him. The atmosphere had quickly changed from something sweet to something bitter. It made you wish you’d savoured that soft moment with Poe for a little longer, because now you’d brought up the subject, there was no going back. This was it now. You had to rip it off like a band-aid. 

‘I like us.’ Poe murmured quietly. 

‘There is no us, Poe.’ You reminded him. ‘We tried, remember? And it never worked.’

‘What’s the last few months been then?’

‘It’s been us living in a bubble. Pretending that if we ignore the outside world, that we can be together.’ You said. ‘But reality is gonna catch up with us, and we have to get on top of it before it does.’

‘Maker.’ Poe sniffed. ‘I always said I’d never be that guy.’

‘I shouldn’t have made you that guy.’ You reached across and took his hand in yours. Giving it a squeeze, you brushed your thumb over it and let go. 

‘Time to face the music, huh?’ Poe’s eyes followed you as you stood up. 

‘’fraid so, Dameron.’ 

You wanted to say it, to blurt it out: I love you.

In reality, what you had was just infatuation. It wasn’t love, not in the long term. It was passionate and intense, as though the world around you were on fire. It burnt bright and true, lighting up everything around you and keeping you warm inside. Ultimately, though, it was susceptible to burning out. And once it had, what would be left? Ashes. Burn scars, and strangled cries for what you’d lost. 

Like fire, the entire thing was suffocating. Depriving you of oxygen and swallowing you whole; making you feel like you had the weight of the world of the chest. It was okay, though, because when you were with Poe, breathing didn’t matter all that much. 

You had to step away; fan the fire out and let your lungs fill with air, so that you could scream. Scream for him, scream for the fact you would only ever be a lover, and an affair that would pass in time. 

When the flames were gone, when you’d let out a cry of war and grief, you could take a step back, and maybe, just maybe, breathe him in again. 

tags: @marvelinsanity​ @poestardust​ @princessxkenobi​ @nomanchesnoncreator​

[sofreddie]

Serendipitous Souls 4

Summary: "Is this the part where you kiss me and sweep me off my feet?"

Characters: Dean x OC!Reader, Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 2,577

A/N: So, a little BTS secret here: I wrote this whole story in one long thing and had to go back and break it up into chapters. It broke up kind of funny, with some parts being a lot longer or shorter. I'm sorry about that irregularity, but it's just how it worked out, ya know?

"Is this the part where you kiss me and sweep me off my feet?" she chuckled nervously and blushed, not sure what else to say as her heart was in her throat and Dean's words said more than enough. "I thought you were supposed to be bad at expressing yourself?" she asked playfully, trying to lessen the seriousness of the moment and maybe stall out on that kiss cause really she's panicking.

"I'm not bad at it," he defended, "I just don't like doing it. But when it's important, when it matters, hell yeah I'm gonna say my peace."

She nodded in understanding, giving him a small smile which he returned. She hesitantly lifted a hand and placed it on his arm as it rested around her. She looked from her hand to him shyly, before she felt him flex his muscle beneath her hand.

"Did you just flex?" she teased with a laugh.

His boyish grin was as bright as the sun, "You liked it," he teased back, doing it again. She playfully slapped at his chest. Dean grabbed her hand, trapping it against his peck, which brought her closer to him. He leaned in the rest of the way, quickly bringing their lips together.

He figured since she ripped off the band aid, he could too.

Her body tensed and froze in his hold as their lips collided, before he felt her relax into his hold and kissed him back. As they slowly - cautiously - moved together, she moaned, softly and sweetly. The sound tingled the hairs on the back of his neck in a really nice way. His hands tightened their hold, dragging her forward, her legs widening to accommodate him, pressed together. He drug a hand up her spine, into her hair and the back of her head, tilting her to allow him a better angle to kiss her harder, deeper.

His head was swimming with it. With the feel of her lips and the taste of her tongue and the vibration of her moans into him. It was the best kiss he'd ever had. He'd never felt something like this. His imagination could have never conceived a kiss as intense and passionate and soul-deep. And this was only kissing. He was gonna lose his damn mind.

"Fuck," Dean groaned, resting his forehead against hers, his hand in her hair holding her to him, still needing her close, not yet ready to let go. Maybe never ready.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked ashamedly, "Did I hurt you? I'm…a little out of practice," she chuckled bashfully, lowering her gaze and dropping her arms from him.

"Hey, don't do that," Dean held her closer, her hands coming to his shoulders to balance herself as he held her so close it nearly bowed her backward. "Nothing is wrong," he assured her with a peck to her lips, "It's just amazing and intense and I just realized we only have an hour left," he kissed her again, deeply, before parting to rise to his full height. He pulled her up with him, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he held her against him and he gazed down at her.

He kissed her deeply but quickly, taking her by the hand and leading her hurriedly to his room. He opened his door, wiggling his brows at her playfully and she giggled as he tugged her inside, shutting the door behind them.

She paused to look at his room, really look at it. It was just like in the show, but different somehow. Real, she supposed. She couldn't linger on it long though as Dean's arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

"You said you're out of practice?" Dean asked from behind her, his breath fanning over her head. He lifted a hand to brush her hair aside, dropping his lips to the base of her neck revealed by her shirt. She hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close at the feather-light touch of his lips to her skin. "So am I," he admitted, pulling back enough to turn her in his arms to face him. Her hands landed on his pecks, before moving to his shoulders. She squeezed lightly with a smirk, leaving one hand on his shoulder, the other trailing up the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

"How is that possible?" she chuckled, surprised at her ability to even speak, let alone be playful.

He shrugged, "Aside from being busy with the life," he sighed, shaking his head, "It just takes more time and energy than I'm willing to give to charm a new lady here or there. Especially when I know I have to walk away. Every time," he sighs, tugging her closer, nuzzling his nose along her hairline and down her jaw, placing delicate kisses on her skin.

"But with you," he speaks against the skin of her neck between kisses to the tender flesh, "I want to spend the time and energy. I know I don't have to walk away. I don't want to walk away," he breathes out, before sucking a light mark into her pulse point. Her body shuddered against him as she moaned.

"Dean," she moaned out, grasping his face in her hands and making him meet her eyes, "If you mean it and you want to, we can explore all of this further," she says, taking a step back from him and removing her shirt, revealing her bare torso underneath, "And if you want to take it back later that's fine too," she continues, removing her pants and then her underwear and Dean could only stare, his eyes devouring every inch of her newly revealed skin, "But we are sort of under a time crunch here and I don't want to cut it too close. Sam's at risk after all," she said before sitting on the end of the bed and scooting herself back until she met the pillows, holding his gaze the entire time.

Dean finally got his shit together and hurried to remove his clothing, before crawling up the bed, hovering over her on all fours as the two of them hesitated and bought time letting their eyes roam.

The blush went all over, Dean soon witnessed, and that made his cock swell. She was pale and pink, but voluptuous and curvy. Naturally beautiful, like those old Renaissance statues and paintings. He suddenly felt utterly pissed at himself. If they had met in the world somehow, he's not sure she would've been someone that even caught his attention. And he hates that. Cause he would've missed all this.

"Dean?" she questions softly and he can see her worry and move to cover herself.

"Don't," he says, surging forward to press her hands down into the bed, "Don't hide from me. You don't ever have to hide from me. You're beautiful, Y/N."

She blushed and smiled at him again and Dean had to kiss her breathless. She shifted underneath him, parting her legs to allow him room. He shifted, placing one leg between hers. She sighed and moaned as his lips trailed down her neck, nipping and sucking and driving her into a frenzy. One of his hands skimmed along her side, acquainting her with his touch, before moving south towards her mound. Time crunch be damned he would make sure she was ready and he knew a few tricks if her body happened to be stubborn.

He nibbled on her collarbone as he cupped her mound, humming as he felt her warmth. He didn't want to be abrupt, though his cock was screaming differently at him. In fact, his whole body was tense with need, but he fought it back with all he had.

He drug his tongue down her chest to her nipple before encasing it in his warm, wet mouth and sucking gently. She moaned, her head thrust back into the pillows and Dean took that moment to part her folds with a single finger. She gasped, her legs spreading slightly wider and Dean moaned around her breast, dragging his blunt teeth over her nipple as he felt how wet she was already. He found her clit easily, brushing her wetness over the sensitive nub.

"You're so responsive," Dean moaned his praise as he lifted his head to kiss her lips once more. She gasped and Dean chuckled as he slipped a finger inside her warm wet channel. He choked as his laugh turned into a moan. She was so tight. Around a single finger. Fuck! "So fucking tight, Baby, oh my God."

"Jesus, Dean," her hips stuttered and her walls clenched around his single digit.

Dean hummed in approval once more, working a second finger into her tight channel and gently scissoring her open.

"Is it the dirty talk?" He asked, his voice deep and seductive and for her. She couldn't help but be trapped by his gaze once more. So intimate. Terrifyingly so. But she couldn't look away, "Or is it because I called you Baby?" he asked with a grin.

"B-both," she stuttered out, losing herself to the feel of Dean. Inside her. Pleasing her. Preparing her.

"I wanna taste you," Dean announced as he kissed his way down her body, "Wanna make you cum before I fuck you."

"Holy shit," she breathed out, feeling like she was about to cum already.

"You gotta relax, Baby," Dean mumbled as his lips trailed over her thighs, his fingers still steadily working into her, opening her up. She just nodded and moaned, trying to relax her muscles. But it's been so long. And it's fucking Dean. And she still can't look away, but neither can he.

She's nervous, he can tell. He'll save all his questions for later. She's not focused, she's not relaxed. So Dean decides to distract her. To command all of her attention.

He dives into her pussy, tongue lapping up her juices, tickling at her clit, before sucking it hard between his lips. She bucks and keens and her hands fly to his head while her legs spread wider. He hums in satisfaction around her clit, her flavor tangy and sweet and thick on his tongue. He wants to stay here, to savor it, to learn every nook and cranny and reaction. But they're running out of time and his cock is running out of patience.

He laps, nips, sucks, and slurps at her pussy as he works a third finger into her channel. He moves his other arm over her hips, holding her down 'cause he can tell she's gonna be one of those that runs from it. Another sharp suck of her clit and she comes. Her walls clench hard around his fingers, undulating in waves. He works her through it and her hips try to wiggle, she tries to get leverage and pushes at him, but he knows there's more to wring out of it. He grunts, holding her down firmly, his fingers fucking her fast. As she calms down and hums, he kisses her pussy, gently removing his fingers.

"You okay?" he checks with her, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"Yeah, wow. That was intense," she laughed.

"You ready for me, Y/N?"

She moans and her eyes flutter, "Yes, Dean," she spreads her legs invitingly and Dean positions himself between them, his body flush against hers, his cock laying between them against her damp and quivering folds, "Please," she moans so sweetly, dragging her slick along his cock, enticing him.

And he's so beyond ready he can taste it on the back of his tongue.

She wraps her arms around him, one hand on the back of his shoulder, the other on his lower back, pulling him to her. It's been so long. She's worked up. It's Dean and she's drowning in the pleasure he's given her. Everything else fades away and there's only them and now.

Dean feels it too as he shifts his hips and knees, lining himself up with her entrance. His eyes hold hers as he enters her, inch by inch, their mouths hanging open, breaths held, as they truly connect, for the first time. As their hips meet, Dean's cock buried to the root, they both release their breath, sounding like a punch to the gut.

It's intense. Dean could die right now and he'd be happy. He actually might. She feels so fucking good he almost can't stand it. It's perfect. She's perfect. He allows her time to adjust. His cock carving out a home inside of her, molding her just for him. He groans, beginning a slow slide in and out, allowing the two of them to explore, touch, feel.

He loves that he gets to have her bare. Gets to feel all of her. Lets her feel all of him. His hips pick up pace, plunging deep on every thrust. She's delirious with pleasure, trying to hold back her sounds, thinking she's quiet, but Dean knows she'd be a fucking screamer if she'd just let go.

"Fuck," Dean groans, "You feel so fucking good," he breathes hot against her neck, grinding his body against hers. She grips him tightly, desperately, her hands roaming his body. He loves the way she touches him. He's gonna cum soon, he can feel it. The tingling feeling creeping up the base of his spine. Then it fully hits him, he realizes - or remembers - that he gets to fuck her bare because he has to breed her. His hips stutter at the thought and he moaned, capturing her lips in a desperate and filthy kiss.

"I'm gonna cum, and I want you to cum with me," he panted against her lips, fucking her fast and hard. One of her hands flew to the headboard, using it to push back against Dean. "That's right, Baby," Dean growled. One of his hands flew to the top of the headboard, using it to pull himself into her harder and deeper. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her heels digging into his ass as she made the most sinful sounds.

"Come on, Baby," Dean grunted as he fucked into her, "Cum on my cock and I'll fill you up so good. Fuck a baby into this beautiful body of yours. Fuck!"

"Holy - Fuck - Dean!" she screamed out as her orgasm crashed into her violently. She thrashed and writhed beneath Dean, her walls clenching around him and holding him deep and tight. He cried out in ecstasy as he came deep inside her, in excess.

Dean kissed her and nuzzled her, and kissed her some more as the two of them came down from their highs. Though he stayed inside of her, soft as he may be. The thought of not being inside of her was too much at the moment. He kisses her sweet and deep until he has to move. He slowly pulls his softened cock from her dripping folds, watching as his cum oozes forth. He hums in satisfaction before dropping onto the bed beside her.

"I should go check on Sam," Dean suddenly says after catching the clock and realizing how close they've cut it. He jumps up, throwing his clothes back on as quick as he can. Y/N is frozen in bed, sheet tucked up around her body, just watching him.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Dean says, leaning over to peck her lips, "Don't go anywhere," he adds before leaving the room and hurrying down the bunker corridor.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Serendipitous Souls:

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@xhannahbananax03

@440mxs-wife

@crist1216

[passivenovember]

Enclosures.

Harringrove April, Day Ten : Peaches.

--

Steve's gig at White River State Park is, more a less, glorified babysitting.

The hiring manager insisted that the Indianapolis Zoo was in the game of education first, and even though Steve would be working with kids between the ages of four and eleven, escorting them around the park and providing answers to stupid questions and Band-Aids for skinned knees, it wouldn't be juice keggers with kids all year.

Because during the off months, when the city scape was covered in layers of snow, Steve would get to wander the grounds with his favorite activity bag, post up under a shady awning in the jungle, and feed the fruit bats.

So that's why he took the job.

Zoo Academy Monday through Wednesday and vibes on December weekends. Moments of solitude doing the job every keeper wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. 

That was the deal. 

Written in stone, as far as Steve is concerned. This is what he was put on this Earth--

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

Steve nearly drops the slice of mango in his hand, starling when that deep, husky voice cuts through the air like a machete in the jungle. 

“Fuck.” Steve wipes his hands on his pants, turning to face. 

A new keeper. 

Dressed in standard fatigues. Tan overalls and goulashes, ham radio crackling like desert heat against his waist. 

New Keeper points to the ring of wire in Steve’s hand, mimicking the way he’s been feeding slices of fruit over thick, unruly steel. “Takes too long if you do it that way,” He says.

But, listen. “I’ve always done it this way.” 

“So?”

“I was taught to do it this way.” 

New Keeper shuffles up to the cave entrance, leaning his forearms on the steel barrier that keeps Steve’s bats from dive-bombing kids and grandmas. 

He’s wearing aviators, so Steve can’t see his eyes, but. New Keeper gives him the once over--

Steve is 85% sure--

Before spitting a wad of saliva on the ground next to Steve’s boot. “Who taught ya to string the fruit like that, pretty boy?”

“I’m not.” Steve shouldn’t be flushing deep red. He shouldn’t be salivating. “I’m not--”

“Was it Rachel?” And New Keeper says it with so much malice. Like, “None of these keepers are worth the paper their degree is printed on, I swear--”

“It wasn’t--”

“Y’know I caught Travis in Rhino Valley trying to give food as positive reinforcement?” New Keeper shakes his head, neck muscles chording dramatically. “Everyone knows they take better to physical affection as a reward, alright?”

“Yeah, I mean--”

“Everyone knows that.” New Keeper concludes, watching as Steve’s head bounces around frantically. 

“Everyone knows that.” Steve agrees.

Fucking idiots. 

New Keeper’s mouth ticks up at one corner, almost like he could laugh if he wasn’t busy dealing with his own body. Ripping biceps and pectorals that should pop the seams on his overalls when New Keeper rolls his spine. 

“They told me you’re in charge of the bats.” Steve feels those eyes on him again, head to toe and back up again. “That true?”

Steve shrugs, fiddling with his name badge. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Don’t sound so sure.”

“Yeah, well, I mean.” He gestures to the line of steel rings that have been there, permanently, for as long as anyone can remember. “If I’ve been doing it wrong the whole time I don’t wanna claim ownership.”

New Keeper grunts, like. 

The salt of the earth, red blooded American asshole he is. He tips the aviators, letting them slide down his nose until blue eyes. The bluest Steve has ever fucking seen, pin him in place. 

“You’re not a keeper, are ya?”

Steve tries not to get lost. “Well. No, I’m--”

New Keeper turns to face him, clasping his wrists together and allowing his chest to. Puff. Distract, holy shit, when his biceps follow suit. 

Steve tries to tear his eyes away. 

Fails. 

“What do you do then?”

Steve watches a bead of sweat trail from jawline to collarbone, just. Ruining his life. He blinks owlishly. “Sorry, what?”

New Keeper is almost smiling. “Your job. What kinda.” His tongue flicks out to wet. Pretty, red lips. “Services. Do you provide.”

Steve realizes, distantly, that they’re flirting. 

And.

He’s familiar with the concept, alright, but. Steve’s never flirted while wearing hiking boots covered in goat shit, so. 

He gestures to his name tag. 

The goofy, pixilated staff picture of him and a title beneath that reads; Zoo Academy : Supervisor. Steve wonders if it’s obvious that he works with kids, given the plethora of googly-eyed animal stickers covering the majority of his name tag’s plastic casing.

New Keeper whistles low, removing his aviators entirely, and.

Tugging.

Steve forward by his title. Eyes glowing bright. 

“Kinda training you get over in the Education Department teach you anything about fruit bats, princess?”

Steve sorts through the absolute trough alphabet soup flooding his brain. Opens his mouth and closes it again, when. New Keeper rubs the pad of his thumb along the largest, most gaudy of the animal stickers. 

New Keeper raises his eyebrow and Steve. 

Jolts into motion. “No. Um. I have CPR training, and. First aid training.” Steve lets himself be tugged forward again. Just close enough to smell the mix of Earth and Hay that all the keepers have clinging into their skin, and. 

Cologne.

Heady and sweet, underneath all that. He blinks again, trying to clear his head as New Keeper smiles at him.

Really smiles.

For the first time.

Steve nods. “I work with shitheads.”

He isn’t expecting it, when. New Keeper laughs. Loud and sudden, and. So warm. Startling the fleet of bats that have come by looking for their afternoon peaches. 

“Tell me about it. They stick you on Bat Duty without any training?” New Keeper nods, finally, finally, releasing Steve from the weird spell he’s put him under. He turns, gesturing to box of fruit at their feet. “I’m gonna have to remedy that, pretty boy.”

Steve nods, like. “Steve.” Before sticking his hand out.

New Keeper nods it away. “Billy. Your training starts on Friday.”

Billy puts his aviators on and.

Starts to walk away.

Kicking up a cloud of that woodsy, delicious scent. Steve scrambles after him. “Okay, training. Friday.”

They round the corner into the section of the jungle that houses a waterfall. The biggest, most breathtaking in the Midwest.

New Keeper keeps on walking. “Yup, see you then.”

“Yeah, listen Keeper Man--”

“Billy.”

Steve runs into a wall of muscle, shying away from the pair of hands that steady him. 

He nods. “Billy.” Cheeks flaming bright red as New Keeper smiles, soft and sweet. Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t take this the wrong way, and like. I totally want to do what’s best for the animals, especially the fruit bats, but. I don’t think I need any training.”

Billy looks him over again. Up and down. “I beg to differ, Bambi.”

“Yeah, I--”

“Won’t have any untrained preschool teacher working with my animals.” Billy says. Matter-of-fact, like, “No matter how annoyingly cute they are.”

Cute. 

It hits Steve like an under-ripe peach to the back of the head. He shuffles, nervously, before puffing out his chest, and. Deflating again, when Billy raises his eyebrows. 

“Just what am I doing wrong, exactly?”

Billy removes his sunglasses, rolling his neck. “You got an hour?”

Steve smiles sharply. “Gimme the basics.”

“Alright, pretty boy.” Billy stars listing things on his fingers. “Well, first off? You don’t need to peel the fruit. Bats get a lot of their nutrients from the rinds that come on the fruits themselves. If we deplete those nutrients they gotta be replaced another way and I don’t exactly have the time to administer vitamins to four hundred fruit bats, two hundred flying foxes and a handful of pissy vampire--”

“Alright, got it.” Steve sucks his teeth, because. The fruit comes like that. Ends up in the box, along with the steel wire and the gloves he’s supposed to wear but never does, just like that. Sans peel. 

Billy grins at him--

Looks him up and down. Steve wishes he’d stop doing that--

Before pointing at his feet. “Doc Martens are not work boots.”

Steve looks down. Around. “What’s wrong with my docs?”

“Nothing,” Billy shrugs, like, “They’re fine if you spend all day dragging screaming brats around the zoo. Answering questions and painting booger-stained cheeks, but. They aren’t work boots. Aren’t keeper boots.”

Steve doesn’t understand. “I’m not a keeper,” He says, because. As much time as he’s spent in the jungle. Learning about the animals and feeing his bats, Steve. 

Isn’t.

He wishes he could be, but. 

Billy shrugs again, massive shoulders drawing Steve’s attention. “No, you aren’t a keeper. Not yet, anyway.”

Steve turns the words over in his mind, trying to discover the meaning. 

Billy tugs on Steve’s nametag again. “See you Friday, pretty boy.” He drawls, and then. 

He’s gone.

Steve makes a note to stop at Cabella’s on his way home.