#i’ll pile on the boys i write for soon!

[lady-ashfade]

Hi, I wanted to request something platonic with Percy, with him meeting his older half-sister after he finds out he's the son of Poseidon.

Sorry for my English, I'm using the translator to write, and sorry if you don't understand my request

Pictures On The Wall

Percy jackson x older!sister (platonic)

-£ this was the first thing that came to mind and it’s such a cute idea! thank you.

-£ words: 700

-£ warnings: short, nervous percy, cool reader, sassy and kinda grunge reader, siblings bonding, fluff.

the wall across from his bed was covered with many things. pictures of people he didn’t know along with a bed half made and clothes piled up. “that’s y/n’s” a name he never heard but yet was family. his half sister was somewhere on a quest and didn’t know that he was snooping round her things.

he looked at the pictures all the time, liking the smile you had. he knew that smile, a distinct memory in his mind but you wore it with pride. you looked so cool and by all the stories he heard you were one of the most awesome person at camp.

every cabin knew you, it was like he needed to fill some sort of shoe now that you walked in but he didn’t know the first thing.

“percy,” grover peaked into the cabin and looked around for his best friend, when he found him he looked nervous. “I think you should come.” percy jumped up at the sound of his voice that sounded like something horrible had happened.

percy walked along his friend while his heart raced, “what happened?” had another monster attacked the camp, what could have happened that he had to come.

“she’s back.” Grover muttered while sighing, “And we thought you should meet her.” oh,- oh gods. you were back so soon? he didn’t have a clue on what he would say or do. would you like him, would you hate him and somehow kick him out of the cabin? he’s never had a sibling before.

“she’s getting patched up and I’ll warn you,” Grover patted his shoulder with a kind smile, “she’s unpredictable at times.” Yeah, that makes me feel much better Percy thought.

as soon as the walked into the infirmary all they could hear was yelling and arguing making the young boys look at each other. they walked to the door and saw the girl on the bed glare at the other around her age.

he knew you. the picture he looked at every day you seemed to be exactly like that, but you didn’t look happy like all of them. the shirt you wore had rips in it and a bloody bandage wrapped around your arm. the redhead girl in front of you held a spoon up to your mouth but you kept fighter her off.

“I’m fine! It’s just a few scratches, I’m not a child!” it was ironic that you looked like a bratty child that wanted to stomp their feet. your lips pouted slightly. percy didn’t know what to think at the scene.

“take it. you’re just keeping yourself from leaving, so do it so I can leave!” the other girl seemed to knock some sense into you as you huffed and took the spoon in your mouth. if looks could kill then she would be on the ground by now, you looked so angry.

humming the redhead walked out of the door and looked at the boys before rolling her eyes and kept going down the hallway. you didn’t seemed to notice them as you started to take off the dirty bandages.

Grover was the first to speak, “excuse me,” you looked at him quickly but your eyes were now soft and no longer sharp. “Grover, come in!” you invited him over but your eyes soon fell on the boy next to him. and immediately the connection between the two of you went off in your head.

“you must be percy?”

he shifted closer and awkwardly not knowing want to do, “yeah. how do you know?”

“I received letters telling me of the idiot brother I seemed to have,” you chuckle and throw the dirty cloths in your hands on the bed. The cut was gone but dry blood still stayed on your skin, “you have dads eyes.” You pointed to your own.

“really?” he asked quietly as you hopped on the floor and stretched. “Oh yeah, less disappointment in them but I’ll give it time.”

you yawned and picked up the black jacket and your backpack, “I’m starving,” you stood between the two of them and then swung your arms around the two of them.

“Now, tell me what you did to Clarisse!” You smirk at the brother you just met, “my favorite sibling already.”

[moonstruckme]

i’ve been meaning to request this for awhile because i love the idea, what if poly!marauders x animagus!reader and reader’s animal counter part is a raccoon so they call reader bandit as their nickname for the group. and maybe reader naturally has dark circles under their eyes and they prefer to be awake at night? maybe they steal little tokens from their partners like rings and shirts all the time too lol. idk if this interests you but if so i’d love to read it babes! -🌶️

Hi Pepper! This was my first attempt at writing animagus!reader and it felt a bit clumsy but I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting my love <3

poly!marauders x animagus!reader ♡ 742 words

“Where are they?” Sirius asks, stalking into the common room. 

Remus doesn’t look up from his book, not needing to wonder who Sirius is asking about. “They crashed right after class.” He glances out the window. “But it’s almost dark, they should be up soon. Missing something?”

“My rings.” Sirius holds up ten bare fingers. “Took them off to shower after class, and now they’re gone.” 

“Ew,” James says, coming in with two cups of tea. He passes one to Remus, handle first. “It’s like you’re naked.” 

Sirius harrumphs. “You wish, Prongs.” 

“Have you tried checking their stash?” Remus asks, flipping his page. 

Both James and Sirius look at him quizzically. “You know where it is?” 

Remus sighs. His bones creak and pop as he stands. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you.” 

Your boyfriends mostly stay out of their dorm during the day because it’s so quiet and dreary. You’ve got all the curtains drawn shut, not even the tiniest ray of sunlight allowed to permeate your den, and you’ve burrowed underneath the covers of your bed for good measure. Remus leads the boys to the top corner of your bed, pointing to what appears to be a pile of shirts you’ve stowed behind the bedpost. 

James crouches bemusedly, but at Remus’ nod, he pulls the top shirt aside. Sirius sees the glint of metal and drops to his haunches beside James, looking at the treasures you’ve nestled within the pile of shirts. He curses quietly, gathering the rings he’d been wearing that morning along with some he hadn’t seen for months. They clink together in his palm, and not a second later, he and James look up at the sound of rustling sheets. 

Your face emerges from beneath the covers, and Sirius thinks amusedly that it’s almost like you’re peering out from the mouth of a very plush cave. “What’re you doing?” you ask, words slurred together with sleep. Less so when your eyes narrow on the rings in Sirius’ hand. “Those are mine.” 

Sirius can’t help it; he laughs, and you glare at him (you’re really not as intimidating as you’d like to think, even with the darkness that rings your eyes and makes you look like a cartoon villain). “Oh, are they?” he asks you. “I seem to recall purchasing them some time ago.” 

“Since when did you purchase them?” James asks, rising from his crouch to sit next to you on the bed. He pets your hair, and you relax as if you might go back to sleep, though you’re still tracking Sirius’ hand with watchful eyes. “You told me you stole them from your mum.” 

“Well,” Sirius huffs. “Finders keepers.” 

“Exactly,” you say grouchily. “So put them back.” 

“Sorry, Bandit.” Sirius drops a conciliatory kiss on your temple as he slides a few of the rings on and stows the others in his pocket. “I found ‘em this time. Anyway, at least when I steal things, I actually use them. Keeping them stashed under your bed is criminal.” 

You grumble, but you can’t rally much resentment with James’ fingernails scratching at your scalp so pleasantly. 

“I think they do it to feel close to us,” Remus muses, giving you an appraising look. You won’t meet his eyes. “I mean, they’ve got your rings under there, Pads, and one of Prongs’ old necklaces, and some of my sweaters.” James coos as you sink further back into your burrow, and Remus smiles. “Did I get that right, sweetheart?” 

Sirius knows that tone. Remus is laying it on thick and extra sweet, trying to get you to squirm. And it’s working; you won’t look up from where you’re toying with the hem of the sheets, but your face takes on a pinkish hue. You start tearing the edge of your sheet into little strips between your fingers. 

“Oi.” James takes your hand prisoner in his. “Don’t start on that, we’ve already had to replace all the curtains.” 

“Is that true, baby?” Sirius wheedles, giving you his most saccharine smile. “Do you take our things because you love us?” 

You huff, your embarrassment revealed by the way you begin playing with James’ fingers. “Obviously I love you. You know that already. And you have nice things, so think whatever you want.” 

Remus chuckles. “Alright, we will.” 

“I can’t believe it.” Sirius looks down at you, raising an eyebrow when you glare. “Our Bandit’s a thief with a heart of gold.”

[novvabee]

could you write about the mauraders when they go to the shrieking shack for the full moon and there’s another werewolf? Idk something like that

ooooo, this gave me a really fun idea, hope you enjoy 💗

The Deer, The Dog, And The Two Wolves

summary: remus meets another wolf

word count: 2.3k

“I mean, did you see her? Talk about fit!” Sirius laughed, walking through the portrait into their common room. He was talking about the new girl, the girl who had started halfway through the semester.

Poor girl was paraded in front of the whole school for her sorting. She was obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable to be the center of the whole school’s attention.

“Too bad she was sorted into Slytherin,” Sirius said as he threw himself across a sofa in the middle of the common room, “I would have liked to get to know her.” This made Lily and Mary scoff from the opposite couch in front of the fireplace.

“Why’s she starting in the middle of the semester?” James asked.

“Maybe she just moved here.” Lily supplied.

“Lucky her,” James said, “she just missed midterm exams.” Everyone chuckled at that.

While everyone was conversing and laughing, Remus had dread looming over him. His muscles began to ache and he could feel the effects of the approaching full moon. The moon would be tomorrow night, but Remus had been feeling it all week. After a while of chatting, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. 

“I am quite tired,” Remus said, standing and motioning for the boys to follow. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Just meet us in hogsmeade.” Mary says.

Remus nods, the other boys say their goodnights and they all make their way up to their room. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Remus was falling into bed.

“What is the plan for tomorrow?” James asked, they usually had no trouble sneaking out and waiting in the shrieking shack for Remus, but this time, the girls insisted the boys come with them to hogsmeade for the day. Only Lily knew about Remus, so sneaking away was going to be harder than normal.

“I was thinking I could cut away from the group with Remus and we could head to the shack while you help Lily distract the others.” Sirius said, having planned that out fairly quickly. “That sound alright?” he asked Remus.

Remus was too tired, too weary to answer vocally so he just nodded. The boys looked at him with pity, they knew how he was feeling, so they just opted to let him sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day spent in Hogsmeade was lovely, despite the pain and tenseness that Remus felt, he still enjoyed himself.

They made their way from shop to shop, buying candies from Honeydukes and gadgets from Zonkos. The girls begged to stop by Gladrags and the boys reluctantly agreed.

“Fine,” James said, rolling his eyes, “but only because I need a new tie.”

The group piled into the shop, the girls immediately rushing towards the new dresses and coats, Remus and Sirius turned to browse the rings and necklaces. 

Remus felt… odd. He felt the hairs on his neck stand and a chill run down his spine, immediately set on edge. He had never felt this before, a new experience for him. He put himself on high alert, scanning the shop, but seeing or sensing nothing out of the ordinary, just that unfamiliar tingle.

“Dear Merlin,” Sirius muttered from beside him. Remus followed his gaze across the shop to see Regulus. It seemed like the brothers noticed each other at the same time, because Regulus turned to his group of friends, and they swiftly exited.

“Still in a spat?” Remus asked Sirius.

Sirius huffed and replied “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Remus left it alone, seeing as the day was going very well, he didn’t want to ruin it in any way. 

James got his tie and the girls all bought different clothes and were ready to continue on. It was getting later in the day, the sun would set soon, so Remus wanted to finish the trip.

“Butterbeer, anyone?” he asked and the whole group perked up and started down the street towards The Three Broomsticks.

Remus opened the door for the group, allowing everyone in, before stepping in himself. Once inside, that grating feeling was back. He looked around again, but was met with the same outcome, there was nothing awry. Confused, he just figured the moon was messing with his senses.

The group found a table towards the back of the pub and they all squeezed in. Remus found himself sandwiched between Marlene and James. The whole bunch was lively as ever, laughing and joking, talking about everything and nothing at all.

The witch who ran the pub asked the table for their orders and James ordered butterbeers for the whole table. So typical of James, to order and pay for everyone, spend his fortune on his friends and a good time. 

Mary gasped from across the table, making everyone turn their attention to her. “Don't look now,” she said, “but that new girl is sitting with the Slytherins.” 

The whole table snapped their necks toward where Mary was looking.

“I said don’t look!” she squealed.

She was right, the new girl was sitting next to Dorcas and across from Regulus, looking like she was in a deep conversation with them. But, almost like she felt their eyes on her, she looked over to them. The whole group tried to turn and make it look like they weren’t just staring at her(it was so obvious), but she caught Remus’s eye before he could look away.

It was like she looked directly into his soul, and there was that feeling again. Remus could have sworn she sat up straighter, taken by surprise for some reason. She narrowed her eyes at him, looked him up and down, then returned to her conversation.

Odd… 

Their butterbeers arrived and Remus put the interaction aside, deciding to just enjoy the rest of the time he had with his friends. Once the group finished, Sirius casually yawned and turned to Remus. “Fancy a smoke?” he asked. Remus nodded and exited the pub with Sirius.

They began their journey to the shrieking shack, Remus feeling the nip in the air, but also that feeling. He took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, handed one to Sirius, then lit them both. Perhaps a smoke would ease the odd sensation. Walking in comfortable silence, taking drags of their cigarettes, the boys eventually ended up at the shack.

Remus dropped the butt of his cigarette and snuffed it out with his shoe, Sirius taking one last drag, then doing the same.

“Now,” Sirius started, “James will meet up with us but it’s business as usual right?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, just try to stay in the forest like normal.”

“Gotcha,” Sirius replied. “Gotta lock you in now, Moons.”

Remus opened the door to the shack and stepped inside. He pulled the door closed and heard Sirius mutter the spell to magically seal him in until he transformed, then one of them would open the door and they would spend the whole night racing and playing in the woods in their animal forms.

Remus didn’t enjoy a lot of his lycanthropy, but being able to run in an animalistic way with his best mates, that was one thing he did enjoy.

Remus made his way upstairs to the old, beaten up bedroom, and layed on the bed. He began waiting for the transformation. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Something was off, Sirius could tell. He and James, who had broken away from the group finally, were sitting at the edge of the forest.

They heard Remus transforming, which was never easy, but this time it seemed that he was having a particularly rough time. James winced from beside Sirius and shook his head. Once they were certain he was fully changed, James magically unlocked the door.

They both transformed into their animagus form, but Remus didn’t come out. Sirius and James looked at each other and Sirius went inside to check on Remus, coax him out of the shack.

Sirius padded upstairs, expecting to see the wolf destroying something or clawing at the furniture, but he was met with a completely different scene entirely. The wolf was pacing around the room in a circle, sniffing the air and whining. When it saw the black dog that had entered, it perked up, but still looked around, as if looking for someone else.

The dog raced downstairs, goading the wolf to chase it. The wolf gave in easily and followed the dog down the stairs and out of the house where they were met with the large stag. The wolf tackled the deer, rolling and play-fighting until the wolf’s ears perked up. It snapped it’s head to the forest and bolted.

The dog and the deer had no chance to wrangle it before it slipped through the tree line and into the dark forest beyond. The dog and the deer looked at each other and then dashed after the wolf.

Sirius didn't understand what had gotten into the wolf, but raced as fast as he could to catch up.

That is when the howl came from deep in the forest. Everything stopped, the whole forest seeming to be silenced. Then the answering howl sounded.

The deer and the dog followed the sound to an opening in the forest, a small field with a large oak in the center. They expected to find Moony there, chasing something, but they were not expecting to see two wolves circling each other.

They hung back at the tree line, watching but ready to protect Remus if anything were to happen.

The other wolf was smaller, a female, but just as dangerous, still a werewolf.

The two wolves continued circling each other, tense. The smaller wolf noticed the dog and the stag at the forest’s edge, and growled, hackles raising. Moony stepped between her and his friends, protecting them, and growled deep back at her. The other wolf turned her attention to him now, focusing all her anger at him.

Moony wasn’t backing down, determined to protect the dog and the stag behind him. He clawed at her, catching her right under the eye. She wasted no time in returning the favor, and swiped right back at him, getting him good.

Moony, shocked, stepped back and sat down, like a dog asking for a treat. The other wolf blinked, then mirrored his actions. Moony pounced and ran off, the other wolf following, chasing.

They were playing. 

The dog and the deer looked at each other, then back to the two wolves, then joined in.

It was slightly harder, keeping track of two wolves rather than just the one, but at least they could rough-house with each other and not be too afraid to hurt the other, like Remus often was with Sirius or James.

The two wolves raced each other and swam in the lake, the whole group having fun, until Sirius noticed the morning light. Dawn would break soon and Remus would transform back, they needed to get him back to the shack. Moony, however, was being more difficult than normal. 

The moment Sirius and James tried to corral him and chase him back to the shack, Moony refused. He kept wandering over to the other wolf, trying to continue to play. So James and Sirius decided that both the wolves had to be wrangled into the shack, if that was the only way to get Remus back in.

That task was incredibly difficult, Moony bouncing all over the place and the other wolf threatening to snap at the boys if they got too close. They eventually managed to lock both the wolves in the shack with minimal damage.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Remus woke on the floor of the bedroom feeling more tired than he had ever been after a full moon. He felt like he could sleep for ages. His aching body needed all the rest it could get.

Small moments from the night came back to him and suddenly…

He snapped his head toward the bed to see a sleeping figure curled up in the old and torn blankets. That feeling tingled the back of his neck again. 

The figure sat straight up, feeling the same feeling. Remus knew that face, the new girl. She made direct eye contact with him, then quickly scanned the room, unsure of where she was.

He could see she was scared, so he calmly said “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

She looked at him unsure. “W-where are we?” she asked, voice a little raw.

“This is called the shrieking shack, it's where I come… to transform.” Remus answered, still trying to calm her and get her to trust him.

“You’re the wolf I was with last night?” she asked, more like putting the pieces together.

Remus nodded. “My name’s Remus.” He smiled.

“Y/N” she answered.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” He said, noticing how she seemed to start relaxing.

“And… that dog and the deer?” she asked.

Remus chuckled, not knowing exactly how to answer that. “They’re harmless.”

She nodded and they sat in silence for a minute before she spoke again. “I didn’t know there were others… like me.” she said.

Remus didn’t know how to talk about this with anyone, he had never met another werewolf. All he could seem to do was nod.

“H-how long have you been… you know…” she asked timidly.

Remus smiled sadly. “‘I was bitten when I was really young, about three.” He answered.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. “Three!?” she looked in disbelief. “I am so sorry, you’ve had to deal with this for a long time…”she trailed off. “I was bitten a couple years ago. That's why I transferred schools, the other one kicked me out, thought that I was a danger to the other students.”

“I am so sorry,” this time it was Remus’s turn to feel bad.

She smiled sadly. “It’s ok, besides, now I know someone else like me.”

[fashionteahouse]

Can I get one where Paul imprinted on the hottest girl on the rez and all the pack had crushed on her at one point in their lives so when they are all out patrolling Paul keeps thinking back to when he and the reader slept together the pack can’t get that image out of their heads so when they are with their own imprints during their sexual activities they accidentally say readers name when they finish and the imprints get mad thinking something is going on kinda like that episode

yes! this honestly seems so juicy to write 😭 hope you enjoy :)

rewind - paul x reader

Admiring from a far, each pack member imagined what it would be like if you said yes. They looked forward to seeing you around the rez. You knew them kind of well from growing up together. Annoyance was there when you knew the inevitable question would come, “Can I take you out?”

Everyone was turned down. One after the next. It was confusing because it was rare for a very pretty girl to be single. You didn’t care about being in a relationship. You wanted to focus on your future. Something needed to stick out to you for you to gravitate towards it.

With rejection targeting all of his pack brothers, Paul for the first time was nervous about asking out a girl. After he shifted, he saw you walking with a friend in the city and bam! He felt like he could take the word into the palm of his hands and own it. He wanted to own it with you. You seen him around, but never struck up a conversation with him.

In a way, you thought he was a bit interesting. His eyes enchanted yours and you found yourself finding it hard to look away. You had to though, in order to cross the street.

The pack didn’t believe him when he told them he imprinted on you. Waving it off and saying, “She’ll shoot you down too.”

He knew they were just jealous. He watched slowly but surely as his pack brothers were getting entangled in their imprint’s lives.

He felt like he could do a thousand backflips when you agreed to let him treat you out to ice cream. You didn’t know that one yes could change the trajectory of your life. One hangout turned into many. Soon, you both were joined at the hip. You both didn’t need to breathe in oxygen. You had each other. The kisses were sweet, the touches were comforting, and the moments never seemed to be enough.

Breathy pants of Paul’s name escapes your lips over and over. Dancing with stars was the best description to match the feeling you both felt. Hovering over him, he was able to possessively cup your breast as you bounced on him. Reaching your peak, Paul watched as you went silent and arched your back as you faced the ceiling with your eyes closed, trembling.

“Jesus..” Jared comments.

A growl erupts deep in Paul’s animalistic mind and leaks out of his throat. He totally forgot he was on patrol. He couldn’t help it. You drove him wild. He was counting down the very second he was able to go back to you.

“Thanks. I’ll never get it out of my head.” Quil says, almost not sorry for admitting the excitement he felt.

Paul predatorily creeps towards him, “I have an idea on how to get it out for you.”

“That’s enough.” Sam orders, knowing Paul will actually attack him to make him forget.

“You all need to mind your business.” Paul says to the others.

“I still can’t believe you were able to score her. You really are the spirit’s favorite.” Jacob says. He was tired of the same sexual positions that his imprint was comfortable with.

“I swear Kim only gets on top every once in a blue moon.” Jared says.

“Didn’t ask.” Paul says and think of blankness for the rest of patrol.

Emily was happy to see just Sam come through the door. Usually a pile of boys would be behind him.

“They wanted to go home.” Sam explains when he noticed Emily’s puzzled expression. He knew the reason why. She nods and smiled and pulls him close to her. His intrusive thought of what he saw during patrol made him feel aroused. He tried to shake it. Finally having alone time, the bed rocked to the rhythm that Sam pumped into Emily. Her brain was mush and she was loving every second. Her rolling hips reminded him of how you bucked at Paul. Feeling the tingling of climax approaching, he pumps faster, only to whisper your name as he rides out his orgasm. He hopes that it was quiet enough for it to miss Emily’s ears. Emily rewinded what he said as he moved to the bathroom to clean up. She felt some type of way. Hurt even.

Jared had to coerce and coerce Kim to be on top this time. The memory of what he saw in his pack brother’s mind, made him really want Kim to do it. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” she shyly says. Jared caress the sides of her skin giving her a content smile. “Just move in the direction it feels good.” he coaches and helps give her the start of the rocking motion. A special spot hits her and she gets the hang of it soon enough. Her face slightly titled up and eyelids hung low, Jared’s mind rewinded the image of the same position he saw on patrol. Bucking his hips, he closed his eyes trying to focus on just Kim and just Kim only. Instead, the picture of your puffy and puckered breasts moving up and down was alone with him. At the height of Kim’s note of her orgasmic moan, he moaned at the same time as her, calling your name. He didn’t think she heard, her voice was louder than his. Kim noticed because she actually liked on top this time, she was left wondering if Jared didn’t like it. Another girl was on his mind.

Laying on his back, waiting for his imprint to come into the bedroom for bed, Jacob stared at the ceiling. He tried to make it through the seconds that passed him to not go back to the imagery of you in the bedroom. He was happy with who he was with. He just wanted a switch up every once in a while. Coming in, slowly becoming shy as Jacob pulls her to him, she runs her fingers through his hair. He kisses her with love and while she was still on top of him, he rocks his hips a bit even though she still had clothing on. Gladly, she responds with the roll her hips, getting comfortable with position. Jacob takes his sweet time, it was a blessing for her but it was a curse to him. Trying his best to focus on the girl removing her top, he rewinded on the moment of your orgasmic face. He wanted to make his imprint make the same face. For the heck of it, his imprint rode him without wanting to go safe. She was shy at first but Jacob’s grunts and groans motivated her to keep going. Watching him squeeze his eyes shut, she felt really good. At her peak, she heard a groaned out trail of your name leave his lips. She didn’t want her tears to show until she leaves out to turn on the shower.

A three way communication was involving the three imprints. One vented to the other of what happened in bed. They came to the same conclusion and let the other know, only to find out they’re all victims. Wondering on what to do, Kim couldn’t help but speak her census.

“Y/N definitely has something to do with this”

Emily didn’t want to believe it but in her mind, there was no other reason why Sam would say your name.

“I’ll invite her over. If she’s around the boys they will either stick up for her or vise versa”

Waiting on your arrival, you were stalling to leave Paul. He was like a magnet. He promised to pick you up soon.

Arriving was normal for you. For the other three girls, not so much. You joined them at the table and is surprised that none of them got up to hug you like they always did.

“We won’t be mad, but what’s going on with you and the boys?” Kim starts off. She didn’t want to do small talk. This was no manner.

“The boys? Um…it’s been a while since I’ve seen all of them. But as far as I know, nothing.” you say trying to bring a resolution.

“Have you seen Jared?” Kim asked.

“No. Why is he missing?” you ask worriedly now.

“No, he’s not missing…if you’re leading him on then it’s not a good idea.” Kim says getting agitated. Emily touches her arm.

You get confused and thrown for a loop. “Me, leading them on? What are you talking about?” you say.

“Our three imprints said your name.” Jacob’s imprint speaks up to say.

“What?!” and then you laugh. You actually think it’s a joke. “Okay, you got me. That was a good one.”

Their furious expressions don’t change and you notice, your smile starting to deflate.

“I really hope you’re not serious.” You say trying to piece everything together.

“We’re not joking.” Emily says.

“I’m sorry, but that’s their problem. I haven’t done anything for them to do that. Why would they do that?” You ask and ask the last question really wanting to know.

You pull out your phone, feeling uncomfortable. Kim starts to say and points her finger at you accusingly, “That’s so fucked up. They wouldn’t just do that if you didn’t do anything.”

You let your finger press on Paul’s contact, turning your head to Kim. “You need to ask them. Not me.” you hiss to them and Paul picks up. You ask him to pick you up but Kim interrupts, “You might need to ask her if she’s doing anything with your pack brothers.”

“What?” Paul says on the other line.

“They think I’m the reason why their imprints fantasize about me.” You say in disbelief, tears trying to prickle your eyes. You didn’t like being accused of such thing.

“Y/N, put me on speaker.” He says to you and you press it.

He calls out for the angry imprints’ attention. Once he knows that they’re actually listening to him on the phone in the middle of the table, he speaks out about what happened on patrol.

You had no knowledge of this and put your face in your hands. All you could think about that the boys saw that moment. The looks of the imprints changes from viciousness to great compassions.

They all make an effort to hug you right after Paul hangs up, feeling guilty for jumping to conclusions. The apologies were sincere and promised to never make such thing tear you guys apart. Now united, you all now think of a plan to make them feel what you all felt.

[exceptional-z]

zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

[jishyucks]

Candy Cane Delays — lmk

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader

‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, classmates au

‣ wc: 3k

‣ summary: Sure, it was disheartening seeing everyone receive a holiday candy gram but you, especially when you’re the one in charge of selling them at lunch. But don't worry, yours is on the way. He’s just… running a bit late.

‣ warnings: nothing i think,, reader’s kinda annoying about not getting a holiday candy gram but honestly same

‣ an: first part of my True Love Gave to Me Series YAY! Hopefully my writing’s good enough and this is somewhat cute bc I thought the idea was adorable,,, it honestly would’ve been longer and more detailed if I didn’t have 11 other mini fics to write but PLS ENJOYYY

Series Masterlist

Every year for the past 3 years, you've been in charge of selling the holiday candy grams for the winter dance.

And every year for those same 3 years, you’ve never, not even once, received a single candy gram. 

Sure, your best friend Yeri always offered to get you one for fun, but you told her off, cause in your mind it didn’t count when they tell you they’ll be getting you one. You wanted to receive one the good ‘ol traditional way—you wanted to be surprised. 

But whatever you wished, you never received. 

And that was okay. 

Because there came a point where you accepted the fact that you would probably never get one. It was a bit depressing (and maybe a tad embarrassing), but you simply chose to never get your hopes up every year just to be let down at the end. And though it was initially pretty easy ignoring this conclusion, it simply did not help that you were always put in charge of selling the damn grams. 

Every lunch period, you sit behind a table, a poster board with the words ‘PURCHASE YOUR HOLIDAY CANDY GRAMS FOR WINTER DANCE HERE!’ taped at its edge. You wait for students to approach you with pocket money, then you slide them as many candy grams as they pay for. Once they’ve finished filling out the slips of paper, you take the sheets back and begin preparing them by taping candy canes the school bought from the local dollar store. 

It was a routine you have gotten used to, and you don't expect to see any changes happening any time soon. 

“Can I have three, please?” 

You look up from your pile of candy canes to see your classmate, Jaemin, who’s blinking back at you with a wide smile. You nod and hold your hand out for him to drop his coins in. They land with a muted clunk noise before you drop them into the big metal bank you had pushed to the side. 

“Here you go,” you grin back, sliding three slips of paper toward the boy. He thanks you before turning to a nearby table and you’re left to turn back to the unfinished candy grams sitting in front of you. 

The time that lights up on the screen on your phone tells you that you need to start cleaning up soon so that you’re able to drop the candy grams off to the students distributing them for the day. Relief washes over you as you complete the remaining grams, just in time for Jaemin to return, gripping folded slips of paper in his fingers.

“Thank you,” Jaemin says, handing them to you, “I’ll see you in class, Y/N!” 

“See you, Jaemin,” you reply. And you quickly finish the last three before you start cleaning up. 

You place the empty candy grams on top of the earned money before locking the box. When you stand up, the chair makes an unpleasant noise against the floor and you cringe slightly. Rounding the table, you move the chair along with you, placing it on top and upside down for tomorrow’s use. 

“Am I too late?” 

Another person's sudden presence startles you, making you realize that you've been too absorbed in your tasks to notice the approaching footsteps.

You turn to friend and classmate, Mark, who’s out of breath and sweating from practically every gland of his body. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees and he’s trying to catch his breath. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of nose, but he quickly catches it with the tip of his index finger.

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “Ah, Mark… you’re late…” You pick up the bag of candy canes and sigh, “Again.” 

A sense of déjà vu washes over you. This exact occurrence has been happening for a week straight now and you’re trying to figure out how Mark even manages to pull the same thing each day. It was actually kind of cute, if you had to admit just once, and you’re admittedly curious as to what’s causing him to pull up to the table 30 seconds late. 

“I think my phone’s clock is three minutes too fast,” Mark frowns, eyes round as he brings his phone’s screen up to his face. 

You start walking down the hall and toward Mrs. Kim’s room, where everything was kept between days, “You do know that the clocks on our phones can’t be early, right?” 

Mark nods, though you don’t see. He’s still trailing right behind you, even into the classroom, “I know, but I just needed to blame something.” 

You two approach a closet at the corner of the classroom and you use a key to open it up. You place the things inside, making sure it’s neat and tidy and somewhere slightly hidden in case students decide to break in. You don’t mind Mark seeing where you hide it, though. You trust him. 

The boy gulps before he goes to ask you a question, “Hey, for the Winter Dance—”

“How were the sales today, Y/N?” 

Mark is interrupted by Mrs. Kim, who’s returning from her own lunch break. She glances at Mark and greets him at the same time.

“I think today had the most sales so far,” you reply, “So it went well! Do you want me to leave the finished grams here? I already organized them by class.” Shutting the door, you lock the closet.  

Mrs. Kim nods and makes room on her desk for the bag, “Yes please. Chenle and Jisung are coming in a bit to pick them up. Thanks for your help, Y/N.” 

You bow your head and offer a smile before you turn to leave, Mark following not too far behind. 

“What were you saying?” You look up at him, slowing your pace.

“Hm?” Mark’s head crooks to the side, “When?” Did he accidentally say something out loud?

“Before Mrs. Kim came in. You were saying something but I didn’t catch it.” 

Mark’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen. Lucky for him, you don’t notice, eyes dead set on your guys’ classroom, “Oh… uh–I forgot.” Mark knows damn well what he wanted to ask you. But the confidence he had built up at that moment dies along with his words and he figures that he’ll just try again another day. He tries his best to play it off, throwing in a sheepish laugh to spice it up, “But if it comes up again, I’ll make sure to say it.” 

“You’re young and you’re already forgetful,” you joke, rolling your eyes playfully, “But okay, fine by me.” You turn to sit at your desk, seeing that Yeri’s already at her’s, but you stop yourself and turn back to Mark, “Are you going to be late tomorrow, again?”

Mark feels his cheeks heat up and his head lowers in embarrassment, “I’ll try not to.”

You let out a snort and nod, this time actually heading to your seat. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

When Chenle and Jisung come around to hand out the candy grams, students around you perk up in anticipation of receiving one. Yeri nudges your arm when the boys start passing them out, plopping the very same candy grams you finished at lunch.

“Brighten up, you might get one today,” she whispers. Her eyes follow Chenle, who’s approaching the both of you. 

“I know I’m not getting one, Yers,” you shake your head, “I made them.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean you can’t get one,” she groans, “Maybe you’re not getting one because you’re being a Negative Nancy.” 

“Please never say that again,” you narrow your eyes at her. 

And when Chenle and Jisung start making their way toward the door and your desk is still empty, you turn to give Yeri a I told you so look.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Mark’s leg bounces out of anticipation as his eyes wander off to the clock hanging crookedly at the other corner of the room. He has 5 minutes to get up and leave and make it to the candy gram booth. But with the way Renjun was going on and on about an excerpt he had written for this week’s writing club meeting, Mark feels like he’s barely going to make it again.

For some reason, the hormones in his body are causing his heart to knock against his chest repeatedly. He can hear it pounding in his ears, practically drowning out Renjun’s voice. 

Sure buying those candy grams didn’t seem like that big of a deal to anyone else in the group, but to Mark, it was part of a plan he’s had written down in the notes app of his phone since November—asking you out to the winter dance through a gram. Mark knows that he can’t trust himself when it comes to verbally asking you. So a candy gram should do it (yes, he’s aware that’s a little bit dumb but it’s the thought that counts). 

The second that Renjun concludes his piece, Mark is up and out of the room, putting his chair in its rightful place behind a desk. He’s practically sprinting down the hall, slowing down into a walking pace when he passes by doors just so he wouldn’t be stopped and delayed for longer if a teacher had caught him running down the hall like some delinquent. 

He can see the intersection of the hallway where you always set the table up and he books it, the single strap of his backpack hanging on for dear life.

“Am I late?”

Mark stands in front of you, hands on his knees and he’s panting. It was the same exact scene as yesterday. “Please tell me I’m not.” 

You frown, glancing at the table you had just pushed up against the wall, “Sorry, Mark.” 

He groans, “I need to start leaving earlier.” Mark begins to trail you from behind, feet heavy from missing the candy grams yet again. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you have one more week,” you point out. Your arms wrap around the piggy bank and the coins jingle inside. Today was particularly more busy than the previous days. You question, “What do you even do over lunch?”

“I have clubs I go to,” Mark chews on his bottom lip, “It’s kind of stupid—”

“It’s not stupid if you enjoy it,” you shrug. He watches as you tuck the piggy bank and the extra candy canes at the back of the closet before shutting it, “And if you’re always running late you must actually enjoy them.” 

“I guess so,” Mark says quietly. “I’ll come in time tomorrow.” He says this more for himself than for you. 

You laugh, “We’ll see, Mark Lee.” Looking down at the bag of candy canes, you pull one out and hold it out to him, halting just outside of Mrs. Kim’s room, “I’ll give you one for free~” 

Mark stops and blinks at the candy cane in your hand and he sighs. The candy canes weren’t even the reason why he desperately wanted to buy the grams. He can quite literally drop by the store on the way home and get a pack himself if he wanted. 

Mark simply just wanted to get this plan done and over with. He wants to know if you’re going to reject him or if you’re going to say yes. But because this was being drawn out like some imperfect line across a ridiculously long page, he’s not going to know until he gets his hands on one of the candy grams.

But still, Mark lets himself smile at the gesture, hand grazing yours as he takes it, “Thanks, Y/N.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

For the next week, Mark (unsurprisingly) arrives late. He catches you either already cleaning the table up or already walking down to Mrs. Kim’s classroom to store the things. And everytime he does come late, Mark wants to beat himself up for it. 

But on the last day, you’re caught by surprise when Mark approaches you in the middle of setting up the booth. For once he isn’t out of breath, and he’s not sweating and hunched over. It was a refreshing sight—amusing, even. The effort this boy was putting into holiday candy grams was endearing and you hope that the people he’s sending his grams to know it. 

“First one here,” you giggle, “How many do you want?”

“Seven,” Mark shoots, “Please.” 

“Seven’s a lot,” You nod, sliding the seven slips of paper before you retrieve the money from him, “Do you know what to do?” 

“Um… just got a lot of people I care about,” Mark retorts. He grabs the slips of paper, a sigh of relief slipping out of his lips, “Thank you.” 

Mark disappears for a good while, though you can see him bent over a table across the hall, scribbling into the blanks like he was supposed to. He looked rather focused, mouthing the small messages he’s leaving on the candy grams. A small part of you is nosy, wanting to know who he’s sending these candy grams to and what messages he’s writing so intently. 

Once he’s finished, Mark returns to the table, placing the candy grams on the table in front of you, “Thanks, Y/N… I can’t talk right now—I do want to catch up with my club—but I’ll talk to you later?” 

You smile gently, taking the filled out candy grams, “Of course. I’m just glad you were able to actually get these today.” 

“Believe me, I am too,” Mark sends a warm smile before he bids you goodbye.

You huff and begin prepping the 7 candy canes for Mark’s seven candy grams. You go ahead and rip 7, inch-long, pieces of tape for each one and start your routine, taping each candy cane to each sheet of paper. 

“Last one,” you mutter to yourself, taking the 7th candy cane between your fingertips. 

When you go to grab the last slip of paper, you’re sent into a brief state of confusion when you don’t actually find a seventh slip. Your brows furrow and you let out an audible ‘huh?’ as you try to search your proximity for that last candy gram.

Did you miscount? Or did Mark just not use it? He could have gotten a refund if he wasn’t going to use it…  Why didn’t he tell you anything?

After thinking hard on it, you let the problem go for now, making a small reminder to yourself to ask Mark about it later.

Chenle and Jisung come to your guys’ class just before the day ends and you would be lying if you said that you had just the slightest bit of hope that you’d receive one since it was the last day—cause surely, for the entire two weeks you’ve been out at lunch selling that damn things, you’d get one, right? 

Sometimes, anticipation was a bitch. It was killing you watching Chenle and Jisung pull out each one from their shared bag, searching the room for the person receiving a damn gram before scurrying down the aisle of desks and plopping it down gently. With each one they would quietly say a ‘for you’ before turning back to the bag to grab the next one. 

Hope was a bitch, too.

“Once again, sorry for interrupting,” Chenle apologizes to your teacher before dragging Jisung out of the room. 

Just as they slip out of the classroom, the bell rings and you don’t find the energy to stand up just yet, eyes staring blankly at your empty desk. 

“You should have just let me get you one, Y/N,” Yeri frowns, rubbing the middle of your back for comfort. She knows exactly how you’re feeling right now, “Want me to treat you to ice cream later? Bubble tea? Anything?”

You shake your head and try to prop a smile on your face, “No, it’s fine, Yers. I just thought that…” Mark.  “Nevermind… Let’s just go.”

You finally push yourself up from your desk and grab your belongings. You leave the room in a hurry, Yeri struggling to keep up with your quick movements. 

From afar, right by your locker, you spot Mark standing there patiently with his hands buried deep into his pockets. And with the boring class you had just had and not receiving a candy gram yet again, you almost forgot that you had to ask Mark about the 7th gram—better yet—he was probably at your locker to tell you about it. 

“Mark,” you greet. Your fingers start fiddling with your lock as you absentmindedly put in your combination, “I wanted to talk to you about the candy grams.” 

“I was actually here for the same reason.” There’s a tone in Mark’s voice that catches you off guard. There’s a slight hint of uneasiness, “Um… and…”

“And?” Now he’s caught your attention. You don’t realize that Yeri’s standing by her own locker, trying to subtly listen in on the conversation. 

“Wait–uh–let me start with the candy gram first because then it can play out, I guess?” Mark shakes his head at how awkward he’s being before pulling out that 7th slip of paper from his pocket, “I…” He goes to read it, taking in a deep breath, eyes scanning it before he hurriedly sticks it out to you, “I was supposed to hand this in earlier at lunch but I figured that since you, you know, were the one doing the candy grams, I didn’t want you seeing it at such an awkward time?”

You’re frozen in place, gently taking the candy gram. With your heart skipping beats and the butterflies suddenly erupting in your stomach, your eyes bulge out of your eyes as you read your name on the sheet in Mark’s handwriting. This was a candy gram for you. To you, From Mark. Your first ever candy gram and it was from Mark. 

Your attention flies straight to the note in the given space beneath the To and the From. 

Your heart skips another beat. 

Winter Dance with me?

“I-I’m sorry there’s no candy cane with it or anything and I don’t have any chocolates or some present to give you and this is such a lame way to ask you to the dance I meant it to be a bit more romantic than this but—”

You cut off Mark’s rambling, “Yes.” 

“W-what?”

“Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you.”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @dinonuguaegi @niinjo (couldn't tag :(()

an: first part of my series YAY ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ meant to post it earlier but school and duties call rip,, i hope you enjoyed this! pls leave a like or rb if you enjoyed it and i wanna hear your thoughts on this;; it was the first one I wrote for this so I'm not sure if it's cute :( anyways THANKS FOR READING!

[gainingfiction]

Heavily Used

Summary: This is a bit experimental (or weird), and maybe a bit predictable, but I had fun writing it. This is a story about an important relationship in a fat guy’s life, and the risk of taking things for granted. It’s also a story about coping (or not coping) with change.

Hope you enjoy!

~

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I can only handle so much. It’s one thing to be taken for granted, that’s something we all have to live with. It’s just the total lack of acknowledgment, or even awareness that I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I swear, one of these days, I’m just gonna snap and call it quits.

A little bit about me: I’m stylish, polished, and pretty easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself. Born in Poland, but my background is Swedish—I’m European, at heart. The name is Anders, but no one actually calls me that. I’m not super high-maintenance, once you figure me out, but everyone needs a little attention from time to time. Some tending.

Especially living with Max.

I’ve known Max for a while, and he’s not a bad guy. He can be a little rough sometimes, and maybe a little careless, but it doesn’t come from a bad place. I think it’s just a lack of self-awareness. And let’s be honest, that’s a common problem among pretty-boy jocks.

The trouble with Max is that he’s not the pretty-boy I once knew. He’s changed… he’s grown. I mean, he’s literally grown. Grown by about a hundred pounds, if I had to guess, and counting. Over the course of our time together, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with his ass, and I’ll admit, it’s a great one. But, boy, he’s got a lot more ass for me to handle these days.

It’s not insurmountable, not yet at least. But I’m worried it’s getting there.

It started out simply enough, the innocent midnight snacks and occasional takeout treats. No problem, right? Twunks can afford to indulge a little, especially a hot commodity like Max. But then, you get comfortable. You settle into a routine, you let yourself go. That’s the thing about creatures of beauty: one minute you’re the hottest guy in town, trim and toned, with a golden tan and handsome face and perfect, silky hair. The sort of guy who only seems to exist in a Hollywood version of reality. But then, inevitably, something happens. Sometimes tastes change, or maybe you’re the one doing the changing.

I won’t deny, I’m not in the same shape I was when I entered Max’s life for the first time. Any long-term relationship comes with the normal wear-and-tear. Max, though, has taken it to a whole new level.

The little snacks become big snacks. The extra meals go from “occasional” to “frequent” to “everyday”. Gluttony takes over. A 32-inch waist becomes a 36-inch waist becomes a 40-inch waist; size-small shirts are discarded in the back of the closet, soon joined by ill-fitting mediums, and then by larges, stretched out of shape by a gut that won’t stop getting bigger. Max used to flit around the apartment like a bird; now he lumbers like an elephant, heavy footfalls and a slow, waddling gait. His own warning system—you can hear him coming.

On paper, I know I should be trying to help lighten the load. And it’s not like I’m totally unappreciated; there are days when he comes home from work, legs tired and arms loaded down with takeout, and I can tell he’s genuinely happy to have me. But it doesn’t last long. Once dinner’s over, I’m back to being ignored while he sits on the couch, gorging himself in front of the TV, until he comes around again to stuff his face at the next meal. Which, to be fair, is pretty often these days.

It sounds cruel, the way I talk about his escalating weight, his increasingly-indecent greed. I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish he’d consider how it might affect me. I have to live with him, and he’s starting to cramp my style. But it’s not like I can say anything. I just have to sit there in silence, while he eats and eats, grows and grows, piling on pound after excess pound. And the way he eats, moaning and licking and slurping… it’s downright pornographic.

250 starts to feel like a lowball as the months go by. He’s pushing me to my limits without even realizing it. I’ve never had to deal with a guy this fat before, a guy whose big, round bubble butt would hang over the side of even the most substantial chair. And I, personally, am not “substantial”. I’m pretty thin; it’s just how I was made. I thought Max was made that way, too.

I start trying to make my frustration known, but like I said, I can’t just come right out and say something. So I try a little subtlety; a small groan every now and then when he throws himself down at the dinner table for another round of hedonism. If he notices, he doesn’t care. He just keeps upping the ante.

And upping just about everything else: his pants size, his portion sizes, the size of his monster-truck ass and thunder thighs. They press together whenever he sits down, now, lard against blubber. Not like in the old days when his legs were lithe and lean. His moobs bulge against every tank top, his pudgy arms pack his sleeves, his love handles blossom over the top of every waistband like ripening tropical fruit.

In occasional moments of self-pity, I hazard a guess: how much does my man weigh now? 275 pounds? 300? Is he even trying to do something about it? Clearly not. He never works out anymore, unless you count working up a sweat over a third (or fourth, or fifth) slice of cheesecake. I honestly wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, just to spite me. Or test me. But I know that’s crazy—like I said, sometimes I truly doubt he even thinks about what it’s like for me.

But the problem is getting harder to ignore; he really throws his weight around these days. He heaves himself up off the couch. He rests a hand on the front of his bulging belly, barely restrained by some poor, threadbare top, back arching forward from the strain of it all (he’s not a tall guy, which makes his increasingly S-shaped silhouette even more pronounced). He trudges from the living room to the kitchen and drops himself in front of the table like an anvil. When he sits down, his ass, spilling out of some indecent pair of jean shorts, spreads out like lava blanketing some hapless Roman hamlet.

Some nights, I strain underneath him, feeling absolutely crushed by his sheer weight, boundless mass bearing down on me with the force of gravity. How big is he now? I wonder, as I listen to him moan and groan with pleasure. 325? 350? Could he really have gained over 200 pounds? How could he not realize what he’s doing to himself—what he’s doing to me?

He’s just so oblivious. I don’t even recognize him anymore. I’ve been starting to make noises about how uncomfortable I am, how much I’m struggling with his extra weight. But, as always, it falls on deaf ears. His tight little butt has become a pair of vast, ponderous globes, his abs and lats and obliques are encased in a spare tire that belongs on an 18-wheeler, his tits bulge out and dangle towards his armpits. And he just. Keeps. Going. 

Keeps eating. Keeps gaining. Keeps expanding.

Things reach a boiling point before dinner one night. I can see him piling up the table, unboxing some outrageous quantity of food for his secret nightly mukbang. Well, secret except for the consequences, which anyone with eyes could notice. “There’s a man who likes his food” would be such a trite, vapid observation that it doesn’t even need saying. He doesn’t just “like” his food, he lives for his food. Food is practically a part of Max’s identity at this point.

He’s starting to lower his colossal ass to sit, and I can tell this is it. Tonight’s the night. Fuck it, I’m done. He’s well past 350 pounds, and that’s too much weight for me to handle.

Maybe he’ll appreciate me more when I’m not around. Hejdå, Max, it was nice knowing you! At least, it used to be.

~

Max sat on the floor, rolls of fat still wobbling from the jarring motion of his fall. His chair had been complaining for a while now—squeaking and groaning every time he sat down—but he hadn’t expected it to actually break. What a load of bullshit! He wasn’t even that fat!

He looked around at the splintered wood, soreness radiating across his ass—and not in a fun, post-fucking kind of way. At least his buttocks were nicely-padded. When he was bony, a slip on the ice hurt like all hell.

He was glad he was alone, or this would have been super embarrassing. At least no one was around to see him smash that chair like a pro-wrestler in a grudge match. He knew he’d been overdoing it, but this wasn’t his fault. How could it be, surely he wasn’t that big? Just a little out of shape, in need of a few good workouts to shed some winter weight. It was just the cheap IKEA furniture he bought.

With a grunt, he started the process of heaving his monumental form to a stand. As he started to gather his momentum, he glanced at the ruined seat and frowned. He actually liked that chair. It was pretty comfortable.

At least, it used to be.

(Author’s Note: don’t forget to rotate your dining chairs!)

[peachhcs]

she's not her.

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will thinks the combine will help him get his mind off samy, but that completely backfires when he realizes she's everywhere with him.

3.2k words

hiii here's the first (new) installment of the new breakup timeline of the au!! (also so long wow) i'm writing four of the major points of the breakup into fics, but if you guys want smaller blurbs about any of it, send them to the inbox. cassidy is a completely fake character here, but zeev and james are real people! (i don't know the other boys too well, sorry!!)

au masterlist

“yeah, mom. it’s going great,” will hummed as he shuffled around his room searching for his keycard despite him already being ten minutes late. 

the boy could never keep his belongings straight whenever he stayed in a hotel room by himself. how did he even manage before? the answer hit will before he could even really think about it because you know who was always with him on these things? 

he knew who and he was not going to say her name. will promised himself he’d use this week to just forget about all of his problems and just enjoy getting to know the other guys here and that meant he was not going to say—

“samy’s mom called me earlier. she asked about you,” damn it. whatever his mom was saying before didn’t process in his brain because he snapped right back into reality as soon as the name left his mom’s lips. 

and why on earth was she referring to ellen as “samy’s mom.” will knew his mom always, always called her ellen. she probably read his mind or something knowing he was trying (and failing) to not think about her this week. 

“oh. okay,” will didn’t know what to say, so he continued searching for the stupid keycard. 

“i told her you were at the combine having fun. she told me samy’s at her sleepaway camp for the week too,” mrs. smith continued even though she knew will didn’t want to talk about samy at all. 

“mom, can you not?” the boy mumbled. 

“can i not what, will? she’s still a part of this family, so i am gonna ask about her and tell you because i know you still care,” colleen had a point and the blonde hated it because she was right. 

he did care. of course, he cared no matter how much he didn’t want to. that was the hardest part about all of this. 

“i gotta go. i’m already running a bit late. i’ll talk to you later, mom. love you,” they exchanged their goodbyes as soon as will found what he wanted under a pile of clothes in the corner. 

“thank god,” the boy mumbled as raced out of his room to where some of the guys he met were waiting down in the lobby. 

will felt so new to all of this—the media, the sudden popularity, the press. these guys seemed so used to it all yet he was so lost in it all still. he spotted his new friends in some of the chairs awaiting his presence, so he mustered up his best smile as he approached them. 

“there you are, smitty. where were you?” zeev spots the blonde first, his legs hung over the armrest of the chair. 

“sorry, i lost my keycard. i had to find it before i left,” will explained a bit embarrassingly. the other guys laughed him off though and that’s when the blonde noticed a few girls mixed into the group now. a few of them sent eyes his way, whispering things to one another which made will’s cheeks flush a slight pink color, but not in the blushing kind of way. 

“come on, i’m starving. those lines got me wanting anything,” cole muttered as the group pushed themselves to the door. the five of them plus the three new girls walked down the sidewalk chatting about anything in hopes of taking their minds off food until they found something. 

“hey, you’re will, right?” the new voice caught the blonde off guard. 

to his right was one of the new girls in the group he didn’t really know. her name was along the lines of cassidy, but he wasn’t 100% sure. “yeah, that’s me,” he laughed lightly. 

“nice to finally meet you. i’m cassidy, but everyone calls me cass,” she held her hand out with a big smile. will stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, his mind running in circles. 

this could be his chance to finally forget about samy. he said he needed an distraction and this seemed like the perfect one. plus, what was the harm in a little flirting? he took her hand a moment later. 

“nice to meet you, too. you play for minnesota, right?” will wondered, watching cass’s eyes light up that he even knew that about her. 

“yeah, i do!” 

“you guys had a real good season. i was impressed,” her smile continued growing with will’s words. 

“yeah, we did. i mean, you guys were incredible, too. you dominated the ice,” she gushed a little making will flush. he knew people watched his games from all over the place, but he never paid much attention to all of that. 

not when he was always thinking about samy watching the livestream from her dorm room while cheering him on. wait. no. 

no. there was no samy. 

“thanks. it wasn’t always easy, but the fans made it worth it,” the boy hummed. cass grinned again, letting their conversation die into comfortable silence as they followed their group into a restaurant someone chose. 

the young hockey player spotted rutger and some of his buddies at a nearby table making him stop in his tracks for a second. he knew rut would be here, but he just hoped he’d manage to avoid him because he knew the older boy probably hated him knowing what happened between him and samy. 

some of the guys behind him pushed will forward again. his eyes glued themselves to where rutger sat in a laughing fit over what someone at his table said. the older boy held his chest, violently shaking from laughter and finally looked in will’s direction. the two met each other’s gazes and in a surprise gesture, rutger nodded toward the younger boy. 

that threw will off guard. he studied rut for a second longer until someone pushed him forward again and he landed in his seat. 

“woah, careful smitty. you okay?” james laughed a little as he walked around to his seat. the others glanced will’s way. 

“yeah, sorry. got a little distracted,” the blonde excused himself, eyes diverting to the menu to get the attention off of him. the others shrugged, returning to their conversation while will’s eyes stayed right on his menu. 

“what’s your favorite food?” cass’s voice filled will’s ears again. he looked up, her eyes already on him where she sat in the seat next to his. 

“anything, really. i tend to eat anything,” the boy mumbled with an awkward smile. 

“hey, i’m the same way. i’ve never been too picky about my food,” she returned his smile. 

“my sister’s a big picky eater. our mom was always making three different meals for the family because we were all eating different things,” the blonde chuckled as some of the nerves he had earlier started subsiding. 

the two quickly hit it off, having their own little conversations throughout lunch. will’s smile was big when cass laughed at the things he said and he laughed right back at her own corny jokes. it felt refreshing for the blonde. he suddenly didn’t have this heavy feeling in his chest anymore that he’s had since the end of may. this felt really good. 

but what did they say about good things? they never lasted long? something like that. 

will’s gaze would bounce over to where rutger still was every so often. the older boy was never looking in his direction when will looked, too occupied with his own conversations, but rut did glance over at the younger blonde when he wasn’t looking too. 

rut only heard bits and pieces about the breakup, but he knew samy was really hurt from all of it and while the older hockey player wasn’t one to involve himself in things that he wasn’t a part of, he couldn’t but watch what looked like will laugh a little too hard with that girl. 

sure, will could do whatever he wanted and rutger didn’t care. the boy did care, however, about the fact that it looked like will was trying to talk up a new girl not even two weeks after breaking up with samy. that bothered rutger because he knew if ethan or mark were here, they wouldn’t be afraid to go over and bitch at will. 

rutger’s subtle glances finally caught will’s. the blonde was in the middle of a conversation with cass when he caught the glance from the corner of his eye. rut was looking right a him with a look on his face that will knew wasn’t good. 

“you good?” cass wondered when she noticed will’s attention shift. 

the boy’s attention immediately snapped back to hers, “yeah, sorry. my bad. what was i saying?” his words rushed out together making him come off a bit nervous. 

“something about…sumer on a boat or something?” cass reminded him. 

“right, yes. yeah. so, as i was saying,” will’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about rutger’s look. it felt like a warning or..disapproval? disappointment? 

why could he never escape samy no matter how hard he tried? it was like she was everywhere. 

“every summer my family and i go to this lakehouse in michigan. my best friend and i—well, used to be best best friend would always stay up super late to see how many planets we could count. whoever counted the most by the end of the summer would buy one another something the other really wanted,” will hummed, somehow always finding ways to talk about samy without even realizing it. a small smile was on his lips at that memory because he was the one buying samy things by the end of the summer every time. 

“huh, that sounds interesting. aren’t the same planets always coming out at night though so how does that work?” cass’s expression became puzzled. 

will’s gaze snapped to hers, his face flushing again. “i mean, yeah, but different ones will come out and go away as the summer goes on. it was just some little thing..” the boy’s voice trailed off as he slowly realized that game only really made sense to him and samy because they were the ones who came up with it when they were younger. 

cass didn’t look too impressed though. the blonde’s eyes swept over to rutger again who wasn’t looking at him this time, but will still couldn’t get that look out of his head nor the fact that he talked about samy without even trying after trying so hard to forget about her this week. 

it seemed like everything will did or said led him straight back to samy. shit. 

who was he kidding? he couldn’t flirt with someone. he didn’t even know how to flirt because he never really had to with samy. 

cass’s attention drifted away from the boy and no one else was really looking at him, so will took that as his chance to excuse himself. he needed air or something to just get out of his fucking head. the boy scrambled out of his seat in a rushed goodbye, hurrying off to the bathroom before anyone could really bat an eye. 

rutger’s gaze fell on the younger boy as he retreated further back into the restaurant. he saw will’s friends glancing around for a moment before letting him be. the older brunette gazed one more time before saying fuck it and going after will. 

the blonde stumbled into the bathroom suddenly feeling hot. his hand clutched his chest where his heart wouldn’t stop pounding a bruise on the spot while his other hand grabbed ahold of the edge of the counter, bending over the sink as if he was going to puke. will squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would slow his heart rate down, but it only heightened as his breathing picked up into heavy pants. 

“fuck, pull yourself together,” will mumbled to mostly himself. 

she’s not her. she’s not her. she’s not her. the stupid phrase replayed itself over and over in will’s mind. 

the bathroom door swung open with rutger rushing to will’s side when he saw the kid bent over the sink while panting. “jesus christ, will? are you okay?” the older brunette bent down to will’s level, trying to meet his eyes. 

“i can’t breathe,” will managed through his hyperventilating. 

rutger looked around, realizing no one else was in the bathroom with them. he wasn’t really an expert in this, never really having dealt with panic attacks before. 

“hey, yes you can. it’s okay. i’m here,” rutger tried his best, his attention back on will. 

“she’s not her,” now the blonde was crying. 

“what are you talking about?” the older hockey player grew confused. the heavy pants and now tears didn’t make it easy for him to understand what was being said. 

“she won’t ever be her. i fucked up, rut,” will got out a bit clearer this time. 

rutger quickly understood. 

“do you want me to call her? i can call her?” rut eased his tone, finishing for his phone in his pocket. 

“no, no. don’t,” will shook his head. he couldn’t call samy like this. plus, she didn’t want to speak to him ever again, making it very clear after blocking him on nearly everything. 

“will, i gotta call someone. you’re freaking me out,” the older boy said. 

“call gabe or ryan. i need to talk to them,” so rutger listened and searched his contacts until he landed on ryan’s number first. 

the phone rang three times until ryan finally answered. “rutger? what’s up?” the younger brunette sounded confused that the michigan hockey player was randomly calling him. 

“hey, sorry for the call. i-i’m with will. he’s..he’s having a panic attack i think. he wanted to talk to you,” rutger explained the situation, eyes on will who’s breathing began slowing down. 

“shit, is he okay?” ryan urged. 

“i-i think so? i don’t know. i’m not an expert in this,” rut held the phone out for will to take. 

the blonde’s shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear, “hey leno,” he managed weakly. 

“will? are you okay?” ryan’s voice was laced with concern. he never called will by his first name unless there was something serious going on. 

the guilt and shame quickly settled into will’s body. his eyes glanced to rutger standing beside him still and then his head fell. “i fucked up, ryan. i realize i fucked up now.” 

“what are you talking about?” ryan didn’t get it. 

“everything brings me back to her. no can be her no matter how hard i think they are or want them to be,” the blonde frowned deeply, especially because he was admitting this in front of one of samy’s closest guy friends. 

ryan didn’t need to ask twice who his friend was talking about while a pause came from his end as he digested will’s admission. rutger realized this seemed like a conversation he wasn’t a part of, so he just squeezed the blonde’s shoulder and nodded towards the door saying to just find him when will was done with his phone. 

“i’m gonna add gabe to the call, okay?” ryan finally said as will sunk down onto the ground. he didn’t care that the bathroom floor was incredibly disgusting because he could not go back out and face his friends out there without muttering some lame excuse about leaving. 

“uh, hey?” gabe connected a moment later, confused about why he was on a call with ryan and rutger mcgroarty. 

“hey, it’s me. will’s on the call with rutger’s phone,” ryan explained. 

“oh. is everything okay?” gabe wondered, still confused on what was happening. 

“i fucked up really bad. i know that now,” will said and gabe also didn’t have to ask twice about what his friend was talking about. 

“what made you finally come to this conclusion?” ryan asked, trying not to sound bitter. he knew will was having a hard time, but he would not forget samy showing up to his house in tears after their breakup. 

“i really, really thought i could just forget about her at the combine and just enjoy myself, but everytime i talk to someone, i always end up talking about her no matter how hard i try not to. she’s everywhere in my mind. i thought i could stupidly talk to this girl..be a distraction? i don’t know, but i think i just really wanted her to be samy instead,” will admitted sheepishly. 

“yeah..that happens after having such a history with someone,” gabe said. 

“i know i fucked up. you don’t need to keep telling me that. i feel like shit about it,” will scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit. 

“as much as i hate you for doing what you did and never wanting to see samy that hurt again, maybe you should talk to her,” ryan finally said, tone softening out. 

“i can’t talk to her even if i wanted to. she blocked me on everything almost immediately,” the blonde frowned. 

“look, we all make mistakes. it’s human nature. are you an asshole for hurting her? yes. am i still mad at you for it? yes. do i think you fucked up completely though? no. maybe give it some more time and then reach out. things are still fresh, emotions are still high. we all know samy and we know she doesn’t hold a grudge for that long,” gabe gave his two cents about it as well. 

“i wouldn’t blame her if she did hold a grudge for a while though,” ryan cut in. 

“jesus, shut up, leno. i get it,” the blonde rolled his eyes. 

“look, we’re always here for you, will. I’ll be in boston next, so i’ll see you and we can talk more, yeah?” gabe spoke again before ryan and will started fighting or something. 

“yeah, thanks. sorry for bothering you guys,” will frowned a bit. 

“don’t sweat it. love ya, smitty,” that made will smile again. 

“yeah, love you i guess. just try to have a good time for the rest of the week,” ryan said and will nodded even though they couldn’t see him. 

“thanks, love you guys too. talk later,” they hung up after that. 

will pushed himself back to his feet, splashing water on his face to hopefully get rid of his red and flushed cheeks. he carefully pushed the bathroom door back open, surveying the restaurant for rutger’s table. 

the boy made his way over, nudging rutger’s arm when he was closer. the older boy looked over, “thanks,” will said. 

“of course. you okay, now?” 

the blonde nodded. he glanced to his table where a few of the guys met his gaze, waving him over. he walked towards them, already having decided he wasn’t all that hungry anymore and just wanted to be alone for a bit. 

“there you are! you good?” zeev asked seeing his friend. 

“yeah, not feeling too well. i think i’m gonna head back. sorry,” will muttered out his excuse. 

“oh, okay. feel better man. text me,” zeev said and will nodded before making his exit. 

he didn’t even look cassidy’s way. the only girl on his mind was samy and it was gonna stay like that for a long time. 

[secretsandwriting]

Obsessed

Ethoslab x gn reader

Where Etho is sick and the reader is dragged in to take care of him

As per usual, I've attempted gn reader but I am used to writing fem so if I messed it up let me know and I'll fix it

(UNEDITED)

You weren’t sure why you were pinged by Gem to meet at Etho’s base as soon as possible, but there you were, landing a few steps away from Gem in front of Etho’s base. She turned around, clearly relieved to see you.

“Etho’s sick.” That wasn’t good but you weren’t sure why that required your immediate arrival, Gem seemed to catch on to your unsaid question. “He’s refusing to believe he’s sick and won’t let anyone help him. Tango said he’s way too warm to just brush it off, and since Etho listens to you a little better than the rest of us I asked you to come.”

“I don’t know if he will on this, especially if he wants to get back to his redstone.” You followed Gem into Etho’s base and found him arguing with Tango and Pearl, both trying to get him to lay back down while Etho tried to get past them to work on whatever he felt was calling his name. Which left only one method that would maybe work.

“Etho?” He whipped around and smiled through his mask at you. 

“Hey Y/n! Want to come look at my farms if Pearl and Tango would get out of the way?” You held up some papers. 

“Actually, I have some plans I’ve been testing for a farm but I’m not sure if I have the numbers right. Would you mind looking over them with me?” Etho paused and his gaze flickered between you and the papers.  

“Of course!” With that, your fate was sealed. Etho ushered you to the kitchen table and the papers were laid out and he started pouring over them, figuring it out in his head and mumbling it out. It didn’t take long to hear the effects of his fever. His rambling made no sense. Less sense than most of his redstone rambles. While he was talking, you gently placed your hand against his forehead. Etho froze before ever so slightly leaning against your hand. 

Tango was right, he was burning up. 

“Alright, that's enough. You need to get some rest, your fever is high.” Immediately Etho protested, “I’ll make you a deal. If you listen to what I tell you, I’ll take care of you. If you don’t, I’ll ask Doc too.” He weighed his choices. “Head to bed, I’ll be there in a minute with some things.” Etho jumped up and headed to his room, he was out cold when you went up three minutes later. 

You took that time to get everything you needed together and make some light food for when he woke up. Knowing full well a sick Etho would take advantage of any open second to get away and go back to work and once he started it could be almost impossible to pull him away. 

Etho was out until the next morning, and as predicted, he tried to escape out the window. Thankfully you had blocked all of them off so he couldn’t but he still tried. Begrudgingly, he accepted the tea and sipped on it slowly while he ate his soup. 

When you checked his forehead, he leaned into your touch more than he had the day before, he was also quite a bit warmer then he had been. Hoping you were wrong, you gently pushed his hair off his forehead and kissed it. It was worse, though you were pretty sure the sudden flush in his cheeks was not from the fever. 

Etho whined and complained when he was sentenced back to bed but immediately calmed down when you offered to read something to him. Settling down under a large pile of blankets he fell asleep to the fairy tale you were reading to him.

The next time he woke up, he was delirious and to make it worse, he kept trying to get up to go work on some redstone project. Nothing you tried would convince him to settle down and at least stay inside. 

“You wanna know what will keep me inside?”

“Yes Etho, I do!” Etho’s expression morphed into something you weren’t sure you wanted to know and he leaned a little closer to whisper to you.”

“A kiss, and not on the cheek, it has to be on the lips and you have to cuddle with me.” Oh boy, you had a feeling you knew how this was going to end.”

“I will give you a kiss on the lips and cuddle with you, if you listen to me and you can collect it when you're better and no longer contagious.” He pouted at the last part but seemed to accept it as he settled back down in bed and fell back asleep. 

Three days later, Etho was better and you left to go back to your base for the first time in 6 days. It was nice to finally shower in your own home, and it would be nice to finally get a full nights sleep again in your own bed.

What you didn’t expect was for someone to join you.

“It’s just me.” Etho. “I am here to collect my kiss and cuddles.” Of course Etho would remember that, why did you even agree to it i- Your thoughts were cut off by Etho pulling you closer to him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years.” Etho whispered before closing the space between your lips. It was a short kiss, but damn was it good. You could feel the questions in the air, questions you weren’t sure if you knew how to answer. So you did the only thing you could think of that could possibly answer a few of them without having to find the words.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you pulled him back for another one. You could feel his smirk through your kiss and his arms tightened around your waist. 

“I didn’t know you were so obsessed with me.” He teased, before you could fire a response back he continued, a little more serious, “It’s ok though, I’m obsessed with you too.”

[danaewrites]

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.6k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.

Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.

Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”

You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.

Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.

“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”

“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”

He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”

“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.

You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.” 

Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.

Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”

There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?” 

Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about. 

Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”

James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.

Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.

James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”

Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”

Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.” 

You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?” 

You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.” 

You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.” 

Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”

You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.

Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile. 

“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly. 

Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”

Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.

You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”

You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression. 

“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!

He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.” 

You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”

You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”

“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone. 

“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you. 

Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently. 

You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.

“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.

James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation. 

You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP

You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–  

“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?

You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–

His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?” 

He thought your eyes were pretty? 

James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out. 

Oh. Had you said that out loud?

But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–

Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl @lilly-aliyah @milivanili99 @stars-havefallen @spidergwnn @prongs-moon @joeytribbiani18 @yeahright0h @ronancebot @ropickle @regulusblacksposts @lovelywritersgarden @helloitsmeeeeeee @xobridgertonblues @azuredgalaxies

please comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

[svt-kiki]

( 🧺 ) 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ⌅ .

EP 109 : MT SVT REALITY 2024

2024.　pairing.　kiki ( fem!oc ) × svt

cw.　eng is not my first language, rough writing, no proofread, mentions of alcohol ( i mean it’s ttt so )

kiki was attacked hugged by mingyu as soon as she entered the lesson room after jeonghan

“what? ...oh, yes,” she said to herself with a chuckle, remembering mingyu was elected as the gose class president in previous episodes ( and carats didn’t miss that he seized the chance to hold her )

then she greeted with the staffs politely as always, wearing a black clop cardigan and a matching color camisole, dark gray pants in a relaxing silhouette, both were soft materials, matching the mt concepts for the day

also wearing glasses ( important )

she just tittered while hoshi, cheol and jeonghan kept adding mingyu’s tasks as the class president

“you guys living to give him a headache for real, arent you.”

she sat on the place nearby the door, then the next thing carats realized was wonwoo silently sitting next to her ( seized the chance guy #2 )

after most of them gathered, she popped up with a question, “isn’t it been a while? doing ttt?”

kiki: i love this content so much :)

wonwoo silently pulled her sleeve and got her closely so that she could join the same car with him

jun: but seriously, do you guys think it is okay? leave the grocery shopping task to us!?

kiki: *stepped ahead, tried to volunteer that she can do instead*

jeonghan, held her from behind and covered her mouth: DON’T

seungkwan: hey! someone is trying to smother the applicant! ㅋㅋ

dino: no, no, hadn’t we strongly agree not to let noona do those things in ttt before?

that’s true, in almost every ttt episodes, she is always willing to do shopping, cook, wash dishes, and clean places aftermath

so boys decided “no more tasks” rules for her, bcs she always doing these tasks not only in the content but on a daily basis

jeonghan: ah i should let her sit in the passenger seat, joshua ain’t do a thing

kiki: well it’s too late for that *comfortable in the backseat*

she just couldn’t stop laughing at how jeonghan introduced the product for ads

kiki: why are u so bad at this

jeonghan: shut up i’m no actor okay

kiki: wait this actually tastes good???

joshua: ahdfsjak

not wonwoo slowly lying down to her lap

they went to the PA for a casual meal

jeonghan: can i have a drink?

kiki: go ahead i’ll drive

[ pretend like the rule never existed ]

jeonghan: *attacked her cutely*

kiki: ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

kiki: i want to eat a popsicle so bad, should i text mingyu?

joshua: if u want i’ll text him instead

kiki: really? like aren't your text piling up?

then every person in the car died

joshua: did u just backstabbed me like that!?

kiki: i'm sorry i didn't intended to ㅋㅋ

she was surprised at how big today’s accommodations were

kiki: staff-nim must struggling to find the places for us every time

[ yes we are ]

jeonghan asked her to play the pool together so she said yes

he laughed about how sometimes he got pissed at how she’s good at everything from the beginning

kiki responded with a serious face, “no, the reason it looks like i’m good at those things is any other pfu boys basically suck at every ball game,” and both burst into laughter

after a while, jun shouted to her from outside, “kiki~! i’ll sing your fav jp song, u wanna join?” so she immediately got outside

[ never miss the opportunity to duet ]

singing i love you by ozaki yutaka with jun, kiki said to him, “we should do the cover of this yk, like officially,” and carats started manifesting in a sec

mingyu: thank god she’s finally here

while naturally helping to prepare the BBQ, kiki looked around and said, “everyone just singing karaoke… i guess we are already at the age now where we need to save our energy for the night…” then died inside

[ blew herself up ]

she’s an honorary member of the low-energy club in the group so

after everyone got at the table and cheered, joshua finally asked her help for his kimchi fried rice which took one eternity

kiki: okay lemme add this- and this- and this spice- yeah now it’s good

[ finally served ]

after playing the games ( she kept losing and got a lil tipsy already ), they cleaned the place for once and shifted to the next game

minghao claimed from the distance that since kiki’s good at playing basketball she should be given a handicap

so she gave a shot from across the pool while everyone watched in silence expecting the miracle but she failed the first attempt

[ miracle is a miracle because it won’t happen easily ]

kiki: what did u expected i'm half drunk

in the ep.3 part, she chilling and half asleep while her roommates mingyu and dokyeom are both hyperactive from early morning

kiki isn’t the type of not good in the morning usually, but this is the day she didn’t need to wake up before 10 am for a long while so she just kept sleeping peacefully, it might be the first time in ttt that she hadn’t get up early than most of them

kiki: wow you actually look like your dad

jeonghan: all of the sudden-?

while seungkwan trying to get on the unicorn float, she was still sleepy but automatily turned on the camera and started recording ( lately posted on weverse ofc )

an.　this is really rough sorry ( almost sucks at this point?¿ ) but it is like a test drive for me before i lost my motivation to write it so here we go. tag list is open, reblog / comments / ask box messages are always appreciated <3

(    📁    )   :   NAVI   :  MASTER LIST     

(    tag list    )   :   @smh-anon @jennwonwoo

[kqulitz]

Hiii first off if you feel like this is repetitive or are not comfortable don’t feel forced to write it, it’s all good! I wondered if you could do the safeword ask with Bill but the other way around. So dom!Reader taking out her frustrations on Bill but he’s very sensitive and emotional so he just has to stop and take it easy for the rest of the night

a/n: i decided to merge these asks, hope that’s okay :)

delicate

bill kaulitz x reader

summary: after a rough night you blow off some steam with your boyfriend.

tags: dom! reader/sub! bill, both reader and bill are 18+!!, mommy kink (sorry not sorry), cunnilingus (male receiving), begging, riding, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, aftercare, cuddles :)

smut under cut, minors dni!!

lowercase intended :)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you take a deep breath, trying your hardest to calm your nerves. today was one of your worst days- everything was too stressful and it was all piling up, leading to you being a little irritable when out with your childhood friends which then lead to a big argument. it sucked, you hated arguing with people and you had apologised before everyone left, yet your friends ignored you.

you kick off your shoes, not caring about how they landed in a messy pile. bill perks up from the couch, smiling brightly at you. “schätzchen..!” (darling) he extends a hand out to you, gesturing for you to come over. you notice tom, who’s very concentrated on his gameboy. you step over to the couch, leaning down and catching your boyfriend’s lips in a kiss. you feel him smile, it only slightly melts your frustrations away. “ich brauche dich.” (i need you) you tell him, voice low so tom didn’t overhear. “was?” (what?) bill flusters at your words. “jetzt, bill.” (now, bill.) you reply, the sternness in your voice makes tom glances up, brows raised a little. “someone’s in trouble.” he teases. bill’s cheeks are bright red, yet he takes your hand and follows you upstairs.

you push your boyfriend inside his bedroom, as soon as the door’s closed your lips are on his. “schönes mädchen, what’s the matter?” (beautiful girl) he asks between each hard kiss. “ruhig sein.” (be quiet.) you growl, hands grasping his hips tightly. bill whines softly, practically melting into you. “mein bedürftiger junge.” (my needy boy.) you mumble, pushing him over onto his bed. bill stares at you, eyes filled with desperation as you join him. your hands drag over his thighs, lips pressing to his as his back arches under your touch. bill whimpers into your mouth, a leg hooking around yours to pull you closer. you feel his chest heave with a gasp as your cold hands slip under his shirt. “bill.” you warn, already knowing he was about to start whining. “sorry…” he whimpers softly.

“bitte- bitte, ich werde ein guter junge sein.” (please- please, i’ll be a good boy) bill’s back arches as you continue to tease him, it makes you smile. “are you sure?” you ask, voice innocent. “yes, yes- please..!” you have to press your palm over his mouth to hush him. bill whines, shuddering as your other hand drags down his side to his waistband. “ruhig sein. tom wird dich hören.” (be quiet. tom will hear you.) you purr, watching him nod. slowly, you remove your hand from his mouth, moving down to kiss his stomach. bill gasps, yet keeps quiet like you told him to. “take these off, baby.” you mumble, sitting up to watch him shuffle out of his pants and boxers. you smile, leaning down to reward him with a soft kiss. bill leans forward, trying to chase your lips as you pull away. gently, you push him back down onto the bed, moving back down to your original position.

the way you lick a stripe down his v-line makes him whimper, his hand clasping over his mouth to silence himself. your hand wraps around his semi-hard cock, stroking over the reddened tip as it weeps with pre-cum. “please- bitte, mama- i need you..!” (please, mommy) bill whimpers, doing his best to stay quiet. you find it funny how he’s struggling between english and german. “be patient, baby.” you mumble, kissing his tip just to feel him twitch and watch him writhe. “please..!” he practically sobs, you bite his thigh harshly. “m’sorry..- i’ll be quiet, just please- please suck me off, i need you.” bill whines, lust filled eyes staring down at you.

you smile, finally taking his cock into your mouth. bill gasps- hand immediately pressing over his lips to silence himself as he resists from bucking up against you. you hold your position for a moment, tongue slowly tracing around his tip as you watch his reaction. you hear muffled moans behind his palm, it’s adorable. you finally dip your head down, cheeks hollowing. “mama, bitte- ich brauche mehr.” als (mommy, please- i need more.) bill whines, back arching. “shh!” you part from his throbbing cock, bill whimpers- yet stays silent. you continue pleasuring him, listening to his hushed whimpers and breathy moans. his slender fingers curl into your hair, tugging slightly. “m’gonna cum..!” he warns, expecting you to pull away like you normally do.

you can’t pull from his dick, desperate to feel him cum down your throat. “mama- mama please-“ bill’s words fall short as he chokes back a moan, biting his arm to silence himself. bill cums, hard, you swallow all of it hungrily. your boyfriend pants softly, cock still hard and throbbing as you move away. “guter junge, das hast du so gut gemacht.” (good boy, you did so well.) you purr, kissing him softly. bill whines, hands grasping your shirt tightly. “mama, please-“ he begs against your lips, hips raising to brush against yours. you hum lowly, biting his bottom lip harshly just to hear him gasp.

you pull away from the kiss, pulling your panties off from under your skirt. bill’s eyes are glistening with excitement, it makes you smile as you kiss him again. “gonna smudge your pretty makeup, y’know that?” you mumble, voice low and sultry. bill smiles, feigning innocence. you chuckle, kissing him again. you straddle over his hips, pulling his arms so he’d sit up. bill’s arms wrap around your torso, his head burying into your neck. slowly, you drag your cunt over his shaft, listening to his soft whimpers; feeling how they vibrate against your skin. “hurry up..!” he whines, back arching, chest pressing to yours. “be a brat and you’ll get nothing.” you warn, listening to him whimper at the change in tone.

finally; you push down onto his tip, making him gasp. bill’s fingers scrunch up the back of your shirt as he mewls, twitching in your cunt as you slowly sink down on his cock. “that’s right- be a good boy for me, okay?” you mumble, kissing his shoulder. bill whines, it’s low in the back of his throat. you can tell he’s desperate to fuck up into you, but he doesn’t. you wait, testing his temperament. “please, mama-“ he begins to beg, you squeeze around him to silence his words. bill crumbles into soft whines, crying against your neck due to the mere feeling of your pussy around him.

bill begins to shuffle and squirm, trying to get any friction against his aching cock. you smile, finally raising yourself as you start to ride him. bill squeezes your torso, moaning loudly against your neck. “be quiet.” you warn, voice unwavering as you fuck yourself on his cock. “m’sorry- you feel so good..!” your boyfriend responds, shuddering as his orgasm comes closer and closer. “you gonna cum already?” you scoff, pushing him roughly so he was lay down again. “i’m sorry- i won’t, i swear..!” bill whimpers, the makeup around his eyes already smudged and slightly running. “promise?” you slow your hips, almost stopping completely. “yes- yes i promise..!” you push your hand over his mouth to stop his loud whines. bill’s eyes flutter a little as you pick up the speed once more- his whimpers vibrating against your palm.

his hands move to your thighs, you immediately catch them. “hands above your head.” you command, watching him do so. “keep them there or i’ll tie them.” you mumble, watching him nod. bill’s back arches, his legs shuffling against his sheets as he closes his eyes once more. “i’m gonna remove my hand now, be a good boy for me, okay?” you tell him- slowly removing your palm. bill bites his bottom lip, hands grasping the pillow above his head as he tries his hardest to stop his moans from emerging. you let your hands push his shirt up again, fingers tracing over his skin as he squirms. “remember, be quiet.” you tell him, letting a few rogue moans slide every now and then.

you can feel bill throbbing harshly, his hips beginning to stutter. “don’t you dare cum.” you caution him, voice low. “i won’t- i promise i won’t..!” he responds, tossing his arm over his eyes. rolling your hips against him, you watch him squirm- the soft whimpers falling from his lips once more. you make sure to steady yourself by putting your hands on his chest, letting yourself relax after a rough day. “mama- i can’t hold it..-“ bill whines, arms lowering for a moment before he remembers his place. “don’t you dare.” you warn, voice breathy as you hum lowly. with a harsh twitch, bill cums inside you, tears rolling down his cheeks as he moans. you slap a hand over his mouth, squeezing his cheeks slightly; glaring at him. “what did i say?” you grumble, watching him whimper. “m’gonna have to punish you, baby. it’s only fair.” you add on, listening to his soft moans increase a little.

you pick up your speed again, pulling your shirt over your head. bill’s hungry eyes stare at your cleavage, you know he wants to touch your tits. you stay silent, waiting on his next move. his fingers flex, as if he were kneading the air, his eyes clouded with lust. you feel him hum against your palm. “what’s that?” you coo softly, removing your hand from his mouth. “mama, please i’m sorry- i’ll be a good boy.” he sobs, tears still running down his face- ruining his makeup. “mhm- you said that, and you weren’t a good boy for mama. so now you have to take your punishment.” you smile, watching bill’s back arch with pleasure. “m’sorry! im sorry- please.” he repeats, hands moving to your sides- going to slide up to your tits. “ah-ah- i didn’t say you could touch me. that’s another punishment. keep being a brat and i’ll leave you here completely.” you snap, voice cold. bill whines loudly, yet hushed himself before you can scold him again. you do as you said you would, stripping his shirt of and using it to tie his hands to his bed frame. “i’m sorry, mama..!” he begs, tugging against his restraints. “no touching, that’s apart of your punishment. you’re just gonna have to wait until i cum.” you shrug, hips rolling slowly to tease him.

bill moans, it’s broken and mainly comes out as a cry. “shh.” you hiss, the rope in your stomach tightening as you feel every negative emotion finally melting away. “mama- i can’t!” bill sobs, chest heaving as he pants. “yes you can. breathe.” you take a softer approach, resting your hand on his chest once more. bill whimpers, another string of cum filling you as he breaks down into moans and whimpers. you cum hard at the feeling, which makes your poor boyfriend cum again. “good boy. well done.” you shudder, riding out your orgasm slowly. “mama- please, stop- i can’t..!” bill begs, sniffling a little as he whimpers. “just a little more, baby. you still need your other punishment.” you smile, watching him struggle a little.

“red- baby please stop, i’m serious.” you hear him whine, immediately stopping yourself. “oh, sweetie.. i’m sorry, was i too rough?” you frown, watching your lover as he cries. bill sniffles a little as you untie his hands, bringing his wrist up to your lips to kiss it. “i’m sorry, bill.” you mumble, feeling bad for not listening a little more. “it’s okay- i just need a moment.” he mumbles, getting up to clean himself off. you sit on the bed for a moment- all those negative emotions come crashing back down onto you. you pull your shirt on again, getting up from your boyfriend’s bed. you peek into the bathroom, watching bill’s shoulders hitch with each shaky breath. “baby, i’m sorry.” you sigh, hugging him gently. “it’s fine, really.” he insists, wiping his eyes.

“no, it’s not. i shouldn’t of been so rough with you.” you reply, kissing his shoulder. “it’s just- i don’t know.” bill cuts himself off, you frown. “tell me.” you mumble, letting him pull away. “i- can i get dressed first?” he sniffles, you nod. “of course, baby. come on.” you guide him back through to his bedroom, letting him get dressed in some of his comfiest clothes. you decide on getting changed out of your day wear, stealing one of his shirts. bill gets onto the bed, sitting on it as he wipes his eyes again. you frown at the sight of him so upset. “what’s the matter, baby? you can tell me.” you sit beside him, resting your hand on his leg. “i’ve just had a really bad day and i didn’t expect you to be mean today-“ he hiccups, trying to hide his face in embarrassment.

“oh, my sweet boy, you should of told me you had a bad day- i’m so sorry.” you sigh, hugging him. you cradle his head to your shoulder as he whines, squeezing you tightly. bill cries softly, yet the feeling of you holding him and rubbing his back soothes him rather fast. “what happened..?” you ask softly. “just an argument with tom- it’s nothing too serious but i’m scared.” you hear him mumble. you sigh. “billy, tom loves you- he’s not going anywhere.” you tell him, moving him back a little to press a firm kiss to his lips. “i know- it’s just stupid thoughts, but if he left me i don’t know what i’d do.” bill vents. you smile sadly. “he’s not going to leave. you two are inseparable.” you cup his cheeks, thumbs wiping away his tears. he nods a little, hugging you again.

“sorry-“ bill mumbles after a moment. “i feel stupid-“ you cut him off. “don’t feel stupid for crying, baby. it’s normal.” you mumble, refusing to let him out of your hold. bill hums, shuffling to get comfortable with you. you lay down with him, rubbing his back slowly as his breath occasionally hitches. “how was your day?” he asks eventually, you chuckle sourly. “honestly, we’ve both had shitty days.” you reply, resting your head against his. “what happened?” bill pulls away to look at you, frowning a little. “i’ve just been stressed, and because i was stressed i got into an argument with some of my closest friends. then, i came home and took it out on you.” you frown a little. “i’m sorry, bill.” you add on with a gentle sigh, yet he smiles sweetly. “it’s okay. i’m sure your friends will message tomorrow.” he mumbles, kissing your lips. you hum slightly.

“they might. i should just give them time.” you reply, hand moving to rest upon his cheek. “exactly.” bill smiles a little wider, kissing you again. the room falls silent once more, you watch as bill closes his eyes to relish the calmness of it all. you sit up, making his eyes open again. “where’re you going?” he frowns, grasping your arm. “i’m going to make us some food.” you smile, leaning down to steal another kiss. “stay here, okay? i’ll be back soon.” you slip away, leaving his bedroom. bill settles again, curling up in the warm spot where you were once lay; closing his eyes as he allows himself to relax.

[moonstruckme]

i don’t know if this is something you might feel comfortable with writing but could you do something like any of the marauders or poly!marauders where they have a moment of misogyny. it could be towards reader or just in general during a conversation. i think it’s really interesting considering their time period isn’t really that progressive yet.

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Three days ago, you’d decided to go on strike. Three days, and now the sink is completely full of disgusting, almost-smelly dishes with food still crusted to them. 

Sirius simply doesn’t do dishes. Ever. You’re not sure if it’s some kind of rich boy syndrome where he thinks he just puts them in the sink and then later they magically disappear, but the assumption that he doesn’t have to clean up after himself is really starting to grate on your nerves. 

You have to remind yourself that Sirius is a great boyfriend. For the most part, you like living with him, you really do. He brings you home sweets after he gets off work, he gives you lazy massages while you sit watching TV at night, and you may be biased, but you think he’s generally a delight to have around. 

So for a while, you tried to tell yourself that it was worth having to do a few extra dishes. You love him, and he loves you, and there’s no reason to rock the boat, right? You could do this extra thing for him, just like he does so many for you. But eventually, it was the lack of appreciation that got to you. 

When Sirius takes his plate to the kitchen after dinner, you keep your voice light as meringue. “Would you mind washing that, please?” 

“Why?” 

Ire flares to life faster than you knew it could. You think your eye twitches. 

“Why?” you repeat.

“Yeah.” Sirius turns to look at you over the kitchen counter, and the confusion is so plain on his face that it mollifies you slightly. “Can’t you do it?” 

“Why would you assume I’m going to do it?” 

He shrugs. “Because you like cleaning stuff, right?” 

You force yourself to breathe in and out through your nose, but despite your best intentions, the words come out with a sharp edge. “Not really.” 

Sirius actually blinks in surprise. “Oh. But I thought…you’re always saying Sunday is relaxing for you because it’s your cleaning day.” 

“That’s because I like to have things be clean, Sirius. Not because I like cleaning.” 

“Oh,” he says again, seeming somewhat lost. “Okay, I’ll just…wait, is that why all these dishes are in the sink? Have you been trying to tell me something?” 

“Those are all yours.” You’re burning through your fury fast, and you know what will be left after it’s used up. But you’re not going to cry about this. You will not. 

“I didn’t realize.” Sirius looks up at you, a crease forming between his brows. “I’m sorry, gorgeous, I had no idea. I just thought you liked doing them yourself.” 

“It’s fine,” you say, but it’s not, and your voice is taking on a slight wobble despite your determination to keep it out. “I just…I wish you wouldn’t have assumed that I’d always do them for you. It kind of hurt my feelings that you never asked, or said thank you.” 

“Aw, baby.” Sirius sets his plate down, coming around the counter. He hesitates a second, looking back at the pile. “I’m going to do those in a second, okay?” he reassures you before crossing the rest of the distance to where you sit on the couch. “I’m so sorry, gorgeous. I’m an idiot.” 

You nod up at the ceiling, blinking to keep your tears from falling. 

A ring-clad hand finds your shoulder, thumb rubbing into your collarbone. “Hey, just let it out.” 

“No, I’m still—” you draw in a breath, and a tear slips down your cheek. “I’m still mad at you. Just ignore this. I don’t want to cry when we’re in a fight.” 

“We don’t have to be in a fight,” he suggests. “I’m sorry for all of it, I was totally in the wrong. I didn’t mean to make you feel…baby, hey, would you look at me?” 

You take a deep breath before you do, more tears falling as soon as gravity allows them. You try to ignore them, but Sirius sets a hand to each cheek, thumbing them away. He looks miserable, lips pressed into a thin line to hide his own discontent. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel unappreciated,” he says softly. “I do appreciate you. You do so many sweet things every day, and I appreciate them so much. But you’re right, I wasn’t appreciating how you were cleaning my dishes for me. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

It all feels really good to hear. Part of you wants to let him go on, but you have too many questions to stay quiet. “You never did your own dishes before, did you?” 

His eyes drop to your shoulder, embarrassed. “No. I guess it might have been my mother, or we had some, like, help” —his face contorts as if the word tastes bitter in his mouth— “but I actually never asked who did them. Pretty fucked, huh?” You agree, but you play it down with a one-shouldered shrug. Sirius seems like he’s feeling guilty enough without your help. “And then in my last place, it was just James and I, so we used pretty much paper everything. No dishes to clean.” He shakes his head at himself, dismayed. “I never even thought about it. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I put that on you without even thinking.” 

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. Then, at the look he gives you, “Okay, it wasn’t before, but I think it can be now. It was…a tad inconsiderate, but now you know, right?” 

He nods determinedly. “Now I know. Promise.” 

“And now you’re not just going to assume every woman in your life will do the housework for you?” 

Despite your teasing tone, Sirius brings a hand to his face, his head lolling back despondently. “Fuck. I’m a real piece of shit, huh?” 

“You were acting like one,” you say laughingly, reaching forward to give him an affectionate shake by the shoulder, “but you’re not.” 

When he tilts his head towards you again, hair falling in his eyes, there’s still evidence of guilt lining his features but he seems to be trying to get back to his usual levity. He pouts at you, taking your face back between his hands. His rings are cool against your skin. “I can’t believe I made you cry because I’m too much of a prick to do my own dishes.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to cry.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “I don’t want your pity, Black.” 

Sirius’ pout worsens, his thumbs stroking over your cheeks. “I can’t help it. You did weeks of unpaid labor.” He kisses the skin above your nose tenderly. “My sweet girl. You should have told me earlier.” 

Your face warms a bit under his hands. “I did sort of take the petty route by letting your dishes pile up.” 

“I’ve earned some petty treatment,” he says firmly. “You should have let my dishes pile up from the first day I moved in. You should have put them in my room so I’d have to ask about them. In my bed, under the sheets.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Jesus, I’m not that cruel. That’d be disgusting.” 

“I know, baby,” Sirius laughs, pressing another kiss to the tip of your nose. “That’s because I’m the petty one. You’re just in training.”

[angstywaifu]

Love Letters

I hope you guys like this one. Little bit shorter, but I think it still works well! I'm just so use to writing for Garrick. But I will get better! Thank you @fw-gt for another lovely request.

Bodhi and I had taken to hiding out in my room today. Bodhi’s head was in my lap, his light snores signalling he had fallen asleep while I read my book. He had been out on a supply run with Garrick and Xaden last night and they had gotten back very late. I had watched him struggling to stay awake all day in class. As our last class had ended, he had not objected as I’d grabbed his arm and said we were going to relax in his room. It was almost tradition for me to drag him to one of our rooms. He would sleep while I would read or draw.

Bodhi shifted in my lap, rolling onto his side and grabbing onto my thigh with his hands. A soft smile on his lips as he does so. One of my hands subconsciously drops down to his hair as I lightly play with his hair. A content sigh falling from his lips followed quickly by another snore.

Our peaceful moment is temporary as my door is flung open, banging against the wall loudly revealing a slightly out of breathe Xaden. Bodhi bolts upright from my lap, eyes darting around the room till they land on Xaden who is staring at us with the biggest smirk.

“Sorry to wreck your moment love birds but I need to borrow you for a moment Bodhi.” Xaden’s demeanour changes instantly and we both know its to do with supply runs.

Bodhi sighs and nods his head slowly before climbing over me and moving to follow Xaden. Just before he leaves he quickly darts back and smiles at me.

”Oh I forgot to tell you, I got some snack’s last night. They’re in my top draw if you want any. I’ll be back soon.” And with that he’s gone.

I sigh and shake my head. Those boys were stretching themselves thin with the amount of supply runs they were doing. But it needed to be done. We needed to keep a good relationship with the Gryphon riders. Though I couldn’t complain as Bodhi usually managed to get food from back home that we couldn’t get here. I try wait as long as I can to go and see what he had gotten, but I’m quickly drawn to it as I was starving after gym today. And dinner was still a little bit away. I walk over to his desk, placing my book down on top as I reach for the top draw.

I pull open the draw with a tug, and on top is a small package that must have the food. It’s smaller than normal, but sometimes we could only manage to get a little bit from the Gryphon riders. I pick it up to open and see what he’s gotten when something underneath catches my eye. There’s a pile of what looks like letters. Normally I wouldn’t notice or care, but the one on top is open and at the top is my name. My name in Bodhi’s hand writing. The food is instantly forgotten as I place it next to my book and grab the pile of letters. I should respect Bodhi’s privacy. But he’s written it to me. So surely I would be getting it at some point. As I grab the top letter I notice the one below it is also written to me.

As I shuffle through the letters, my heart beating faster as I look at each one. They’re all addressed to me. I place the pile down as I look over the half written letter on top.

Hi Y/N,

Here I am again. Writing a letter you’ll never see. Ironically as I write this you’re asleep on the bed behind me. You look so peaceful. You already know this but I moved your book and placed your bookmark in so you wont lose your spot.

Valentines Day is coming up. If only I had the guts to tell you how I feel and ask you out on a date. The guys keep telling me I should, you should hear the shit they throw at me when you aren’t around. They seem convinced my feelings aren’t one sided. But I can’t risk what we have. I’d rather stay in this friend limbo than potentially wreck it all by you not sharing my feelings. I just really hope no one else asks you. I don’t know what I would do.

As I finish where the letter currently ends the door flies open to reveal Bodhi, Xaden and Garrick. As Bodhi’s eyes drop to what is in my hands his face goes the palest I’ve ever seen. Xaden and Garrick who are just behind him must know about the letters cause their faces also go slightly pale, just not as pale as Bodhi.

”Well we’re going to leave you two to it. Have fun.” Says Garrick with a smirk, pushing Bodhi through the door and closing it.

Bodhi doesn’t look at me. His eyes focused on the letter in my hand. The silence almost deafening. Neither of us wanting to make the first move or break the silence. My heart is thundering in my chest. Bodhi likes me. He likes me. I should be overjoyed at the news. I am. But right now it feels like there's a massive void between us.

I place the letter down as I fully turn to face him. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have read them but I saw my name and got curious.”

His eyes stay glued on the letter now on the desk, not daring to look at me even as I walk towards him. As I look up into his brown eyes I can’t quite make out the emotion in them. But I can tell he’s scared. Like his worst nightmare has come true. I reach out and grab his hand, he jerks his hand away at my touch as if I’ve startled him. His eyes finally meet mine. He still looks nervous, but theirs a different emotion in them now. He takes a deep breath as he takes my hands in his.

”Now that you know. What would you do? What would you say if I asked you out on a date?” His voice wavers slightly as he asks me. He’s gotten the confidence to ask me, but I can tell he’s scared shitless about what I might say.

His brown eyes stare intently into mine. As a small smile forms on my lips I notice the corner of his lips turn upwards at the corners. He moves forwards till our shoes are touching. His hands release mine, and take place on my hips. My hands taking place on his chest at the close proximity.

”How about you ask me and find out.” My hands moving up from his chest to his neck, lightly grasping at the collar of his jacket.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine as his question filled the silence in the room. "Y/N, will you go out with me?" His voice was soft, barely a whisper, as if he was afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the moment.

The words hung in the air between us, a question asked in earnest, his vulnerability laid bare. This was Bodhi, my best friend, asking me to take a leap of faith with him, to step beyond the boundaries of our friendship and into something deeper, something more.

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth as I nodded. "Yes, Bodhi," I murmured, matching his soft tone. "I'd love to go out with you."

The tension that had filled the room evaporated instantly, replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from Bodhi. A broad, beaming smile broke out on his face, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and joy. He pulled me closer, his grip on my hips tightening as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. His laughter echoed softly around the room, a sound that was as relieving as it was infectious.

“I’m kind of glad you found those letters now.” He whispers to me.

”So am I.”

[mepuppy]

Let It Ride - Supernatural rewrite

So, apparently I have nothing to do (ignore all my responsabilities) and I decided to write a Dean X Reader rewrite of supernatural to go with my rewatching of supernatural. 😊

I do not own the characters, nor the storylines. I'm simply adding a twist to the episodes. Please feel free to help me out with constructive criticism on the story or the writing. Sorry for the mistakes, not proofread and english is not my first language.

Hope y'all enjoy it.

Word Count: 7k

1x01 - Pilot

KINDE, MICHIGAN - April 10, 1988

John Winchester and Martin Creaser were finishing setting up to go into a vampire’s nest. Martin received a tip on the nest around the area and called John for backup, so the man left the two boys in the motel a city over and met with his friend there. 

After Martin spread the ashes of the scent-blocking mixture on himself, he handed John for him to do the same. 

“How many did you say?” He asked in a whisper to his friend, even though he knew whispering wouldn’t do shit if a vampire was close enough to hear them.

“If I’m not mistaken, 10 or 12.” He said, grabbing his knife, “Ready?” he asked as he closed the trunk of the car.

As they entered the warehouse where the nest was located, as quiet as they could be, they started to hear some voices. The vampires were all anxious, the newest ones had brought a family for dinner, including a child, which was already unusual, but the child had gotten away.

“Kevin will actually kill us when we don’t find the human child.” one of them said.

“So get off up and go find her. He and the others gave us 30 minutes” the other replied.

As the 2 hunters got to a corner, where they could see the glow of a fire already, they looked at each other, asking, silently, if the other was ready. John made a mental note to see if the girl had actually survived when they were done. They nodded to each other and started with the two that were already there arguing.

Twenty minutes later, 11 vampires dead, 7 nasty scratches on the hunters and one broken rib for Martin, they had cleared the nest. John was looking for the human child for less than 10 minutes, and after a promise to not hurt her and explaining what he did for a job and what had happened she came out of a pile of something very stinky, the reason they weren’t caughting her scent easily.

John, very impressed by the 7 year old ability of running and hiding from a nest of vampires, without even knowing such things existed before this experience, took her to the motel with him, to decide later, what to do with her.

17 Years Later

Y/N was at Bobby’s house, the hunter who was as much of a father figure to her as John was, since she spent many days at his house growing up with Dean and Sam, when she received the text from Dean saying he was going after Sam. She knew John hadn’t checked in with Dean in a few days now, and the son was getting more anxious by the hour. She asked him to let her know when he decided to go after the older man.

She was going with him to find his father. She owned John as much. After her parents were killed by a nest of vampires, by the age of seven, and she ‘escaped from something some trained hunters wouldn’t’, as John liked to put it, he cared for her, along with his boys. The three of them grew up together after that. She became a daughter for him, and he, a father to her. So she was very worried for him.

As she finished loading her saddlebags on her Harley, the one Dean had fixed for her one summer, Bobby came out of the house and handed her the last of her pocket knives. 

“Do I have to tell you to be careful out there?” the older hunter asked.

“Always am.” She smiled warmly and closed the bags. Circling the bike and hugging him. “I’ll check in as soon as I meet the boys.”

“Don’t know if Sam will join you. He has always been a hardhead, and you know it.” he kissed the top of her head before letting her go.

“It’s his dad, I’d like to think he will take this into consideration.” she answered, throwing one leg over her bike, but her voice lacked conviction.

“Say hi to them for me.” Bobby said as she started the engine on and began driving.

“I will! Bye”

Meanwhile Dean was trying to convince Sam to go find their dad, on the outside of his apartment.

“Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.” Dean says as he started going downstairs again while Sam follows him.

“Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.” Dean stops at the door.

“Well, what was he supposed to do?

“I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.” Sam says exasperated, not believing he is having this conversation.

“Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there.” Dean answers scolding his little brother.

“Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her.” the youngest says and Dean glances outside. “But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find.”

“We save a lot of people doing it, too.” he looks at his little brother.

“You think Mom would have wanted this for us?” Dean rolls his eyes and slams the door open heading outside. There's a short flight of stairs from the door to the parking lot. Dean and Sam start climbing it. “The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors.”

“So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?” Dean says as they cross the parking lot and head to Baby, Dean’s Impala.

“No. Not normal. Safe.”

“And that's why you ran away.” Dean looks away after finishing.

“I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing.” 

“Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it.” after a pause, Dean says “I can't do this alone.”

“Yes you can.” Sam says as Dean looks down.

“Yeah, well, I don't want to.” Sam sighs and looks down, thinking. He meets his brother’s eyes again.

“What was he hunting?” Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, feeling a bit more hopeful, then the spare-tire compartment. 

“All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?” Dean says as he props the compartment open with a shotgun and digs through the clutter.

“So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?”

“I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans.” Sam looks incredulous to his brother.

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?” Dean looks over at Sam.

“I'm twenty-six, dude.” it’s his time to look incredulous to his brother as he pulls some papers out of a folder.”All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy.” he hands one of the papers to Sam. “They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA.”

The paper is a printout of an article from the Jericho Herald, headlined ‘Centennial Highway Disappearance’ and dated Sept. 19th 2005; it has a man's picture, captioned ‘Andrew Carey MISSING’. Sam reads it and glances up.

“So maybe he was kidnapped.”

“Yeah. Well, here's another one in April.” Dean tosses down another Jericho Herald article. “Another one in December 'oh-four,” another article “'Oh-three,” another one “'Ninety-eight,” another “'Ninety-two,” one more “ten of them over the past twenty years.” he throws a pile of the lats articles. Dean takes the article back from Sam and picks up the rest of the stack, putting them back in the folder. “All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road.”

Dean pulls a bag out of another part of the arsenal.”It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough.” Dean grabs a handheld tape recorder. “Then I get this voicemail yesterday.”

He presses play. The recording is staticky and the signal was clearly breaking up.

“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.” John's voice comes and goes and then Dean presses stop.

“You know there's EVP on that?” Sam asked.

“Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?” Dean grins at his brother and Sam shakes his head. “All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.” He presses play again.

“I can never go home…” a woman’s voice comes up this time and Dean presses stop.

“Never go home.” Sam repeats more to himself than his brother.

Dean drops the recorder, puts down the shotgun, stands straight, and shuts the trunk, then leans on it. “You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.” he tilts his head “Besides, even Y/n/n is coming to help. This is serious, I can feel it.”

Sam looks away and sighs, then looks back. “All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him.” Dean nods. “But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.” Sam turns to go back to the apartment. He turns back when Dean speaks.

“What's first thing Monday?”

“I have this...I have an interview.” he answers.

“What, a job interview? Skip it.” the older brother says.

“It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate.” Sam tells him.

“Law school?” Dean smirks.

“So we got a deal or not?” Dean says nothing.

Jericho, California

After driving the whole night and stopping to grab some breakfast, Y/N passes by a bridge full of police officers and spots Baby by the road. She gets off the bike and leaves her helmet on the seat.

“You did have another one just like this, correct?” Dean’s voice is the first one she hears.

“Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.” the officer closer to them says.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” Sam asks and the officer nods.

.

“Town like this, everybody knows everybody.” he says as Dean circles the car, looking around.

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?” Dean asks.

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So what's the theory?” She asks when she reaches the three man.

“And you are?” the deputy turns around and asks when they all spot her.

“Oh, she’s with us.” Sam covers for her going over to Dean.

“I see. Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys.” Dean says, receiving a stomp on foot from Sam.

“Thank you for your time.” Y/N says and starts walking away, being followed by Sam and Dean, shaking her head.

“Gentlemen.” Sam dips his head passing by the police officers. The deputy Jaffe watches them go. Dean smacks Sam on the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Sam gets startled and cradles his head.

“Why'd you have to step on my foot?” The older asks.

“Why do you have to talk to the police like that?” y/n asks over her shoulder once they are out of earshot from all the officers.

“Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.” Dean says before Sam clears his throat and looks over at y/n.

“Hey, y/n/n. I missed you” he smiles.

“Well, you wouldn’t have had to if you kept in touch.” She turns crossing her arms “Or at least if you answered your messages.” she scolds him.

“I know, I’m sorry. But I thought you’d be mad at me for leaving.” he looks down. 

But before y/n could answer she looks to her side and sees the Sheriff FBI agents.

“Can I help you kids?” the sheriff asks.

“No, sir, we were just leaving.” Dean answers and as the FBI agents walk past him, he nods at each of them. “Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.”

The three of them head back to Baby and the Harley and head out.

“Hey Chip, how’ve you been?” Dean asks you and pulls you into a hug when you get close enough

“I missed you too, Cherry Pie” you hug him back, retorting the stupid nicknames you have called each other since childhood. “You too.” she says to Sam after her and Dean let go, opening her arms to him.

“It’s been a while.” he says, hugging her.

“Ugh, I hate how tall you’ve gotten…” she says rolling her eyes when they let go. The boys chuckle “So, what are you guys thinkins?”

“The deputy’s daughter was dating the victim, so we thought about starting to asking her some questions” Dean says “And I'll bet you that's her.” he says pointing to the girl hanging posters.

“Yeah.” Sam agrees when they start walking up to the young girl.

“You must be Amy.” Dean says as they reach her.

“Yeah.” She answers

“Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. Ans aunt. I'm Dean, this is Sammy and that’s y/n.” he points to the two of you as he speaks and the two smile at her.

“He never mentioned you to me.” Amy starts to walk away. The three of them start walking with her.

“Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.” Dean chuckles. ‘Nice save’ y/n thinks.

“So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around.” As Sam tells her another young woman comes up to Amy and puts a hand on her arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks Amy and the girl nods.

“You mind if we ask you a couple questions?” y/n asks the girl who looks at her and nods again.

They all head to a dinner and seat in a booth, Amy and her friend seat on one side, and Dean, y/n and Sam seat opposite to them.

“I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.” Amy is telling them after y/n asked about the last time she spoke to him.

“He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” Dean asks and Amy shakes her head before saying.

“No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace.” Sam says pointing to her neck.

Amy holds the pendant she's wearing, a pentagram in a circle, and looks down at it. “Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—” the girl laughs “—with all that devil stuff.”

Sam laughs a little and looks down, then up. Dean looks over while y/n assess the girls.

“Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.” Sam says.

“Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.” Deansays taking his arm off the back of y/n seat and leans forward. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…”

The two girls look at each other. They were hiding something and the trio could see it.

“What is it?” Dean asks frowning.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.” Amy’s friend speaks for the first time since they got into the dinner.

“What do they talk about?” Dean and Sam speak in unison.

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago.” Dean and y/n look at each other while Sam looks at the girl attentively, nodding. ”Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

The trio thanked the girls and leave the dinner, deciding to go to the library.

A web browser is open to the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. The words "Female Murder Hitchhiking" are typed into the search box. Dean clicks GO; the screen tells him there are "(0) Result". Dean replaces "Hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway" with the same response. Samis sitting next to him, watching. 

“Let me try.” Sam says and tries to type but Dean smacks his hand.

“I got it.” he says and y/n rolls her eyes, standing behind their chairs. Sam shoves Dean's chair out of the way and takes over. “Dude!” hitting Sam in the shoulder. “You're such a control freak.”

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” Sam asks looking at the screen.

“Yeah.” y/n answers looking down at the boy.

“Well, maybe it's not murder.” Sam replaces "Murder" with "Suicide" and finds an article entitled "Suicide on Centennial". Dean glances at Sam and y/n glances at Dean grinning. Sam opens the article, dated April 25, 1981.

“This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.” Sam says while skimming through the article and y/n leans over his shoulder to read it as well.

“Does it say why she did it?” Dean asks trying to see it too.

“Yeah.” Sam answers.

“What?” he asks looking at his brother.

“An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.” y/n reads through the article ans Dean raises his eyebrows.

Dean murmurs. "'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam read a passage while Dean pointed at a picture of the bridge they were earlier talking with the police officers on the corner.

“The bridge look familiar to you?” he looks over at the two.

They all headed to the bridge and are walking along it, they stop to lean on the railing and look down at the river. The smell of the river gets to them and they lean back.

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive.” Dean says raising his eyebrows.

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam looks over at Dean and y/n.

“Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” y/n answers and continue walkin, with the boys following her.

“Okay, so now what?” he aks.

“Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.” Dean says.

Sam stops. “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

Dean turns around.”Monday. Right. The interview.” he finishes in unison with the youngest. Y/n stops and look at both of them.

“Yeah.” Sam nods.

“Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asks sarcastically.

“Maybe. Why not?” he asks.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?” y/n knows Sam’s girlfriend is called Jessica and that he has an interview on monday because Dean told her on the phone when Sam agreed to come.

Sam steps closer and so does y/n, knowing they can start fighting at any time. “No, and she's not ever going to know.” Sam says frowning.

“Well, that's healthy.” Dean retorts “You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.”

“And who's that?” Sam asks growing annoyed.

“You're one of us.” Dean poits at him and y/n.

Sam steps closer to Dean again “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to—” Dean starts, but Sam interrupts.

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like.” he says throwing his arms up. “And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone.” Ouch, even y/n felt that blow. “And she isn't coming back.” Dean sidesteps y/n who was between them to try and stop their fight and grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge looking in his eyes. 

“Don't talk about her like that.” Dean releases Sam and walks away. Y/n turns to go after him and sees Constance standing at the edge of the bridge at the same time he does.

“Guys.” he says. They go to stand him. Constance looks over at them, then steps forward off the edge.They all run to the railing and look over.

“Where'd she go?” y/n asks.

“I don't know.” Sam says. Behind them, the Impala's engine starts and its headlights come on. Dean and Sam turn to look.

“What the—” Dean starts and cuts himself off.

“Who's driving your car?” y/n asks looking over at Dean who pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Sam glances at them. The car jerks into motion, heading straight for them. They turn and start to run.

The car is moving faster than they are; when it gets too close, they dive over the railing. The car comes to a halt.

Sam has caught himself on the edge of the bridge and is hanging on. He pulls himself up onto the bridge and looks around.

“Dean? Y/n?” Sam yells after halting himself up the bridge. Below, a filthy and annoyed Dean crawls out of the water, panting, falling beside y/n, who’s already trying to catch her breath on the mud. “Hey! Are you all right?”

Dean holds up one hand in an A-OK sign. “We’re super.” he answers as y/n hold a thumbs up. Sam laughs, relieved, and scoots away from the edge.

Dean shuts the hood of his car and leans on it.

“Your car all right?” y/n asks

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” he says and looks over to the bridge “That Constance chick, what a bitch!” He yells into the night.

“Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure.” Y/n sighs.

“So where's the job go from here, geniuses?” Sam ask looking at both of them settling on the hood next to y/n. Dean throws up his arms in frustration, then flicks mud off his hands facing the other two. Sam sniffs, then looks at y/n. “You two smell like a toilet.”

They look down.

They got to a motel and Dean hands the front desk A VersaBank MasterCard in the name of Hector Aframian. “One room, please.” he says smiling, still filthy, with Sam and y/n right behind him. The clerk picks up the card and looks at it.

“You guys having a reunion or something?” he asks looking up. Y/n frowns and Sam asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.” Dean looks back at Sam.

Sam is trying to pick the lock in the motel room that belonged to John while Dean and y/n keep watch. The motel door swings open, but neither notice. Sam hides the picks and stands up. Sam reaches out of the room to grab Dean’s shoulder and y/n’s wrist yank them inside. Sam closes the door behind them. The trio look around—every vertical surface has papers pinned to it: maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, notes. There are books on the desk and assorted junk on the floor and bed, including something with a hazardous-materials symbol.

“Whoa.” y/n says walking to the closest wall.

Dean turns on a light by the bed and picks up a half-eaten hamburger sitting there sniffing  it and recoils. Sam steps over a line of salt on the floor and crunches to check it out. 

“I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least.” Dean says dropping the burger back in the bedside table and heading to look over the wall y/n is looking.

Sam fingers the salt on the floor and looks up. “Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in.” He gets up and walks to the wall opposite to his brother and sister-like. Dean looks at the papers covering one wall. 

“Centennial Highway victims.” y/n says to Dean and head to the wall Sam is looking. Dean nods. The victims seen on the wall include Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Mark, Durrell, and Nifong are all white males, judging by the photos.

“I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs—” Dean says trying to make sense of it “—ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?” While Dean talks, Sam looks at the papers taped to the other wall. He finds something about the Bell Witch, two people being burned alive, a skeletal person blowing a horn at several scared people with the note "MORTIS DANSE", a column about "Devils + Demons", another about "Sirens, Witches, the possessed", a wooden pentacle, and a note that says "Woman in White" above a printout of the Jericho Herald article on Constance’s suicide.

Y/n turns on another lamp. “Dad figured it out.” Sam says looking at the girl that is at his side. Dean turns to look.

“He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white.” y/n says looking back at him. Dean looks at the photos of Constance's victims.

“You sly dogs.” He turns back to the other two. “All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.”

“She might have another weakness.” Sam replies looking back at the wall.

“Well, Dad would want to make sure.” Dean crosses to them. “He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?”

“No, not that I can tell. If I were John, though, I'd go ask her husband.” y/n says tapping the picture of Joseph Welch. “If he's still alive.” Sam goes to look at something else.

“All right. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address, while we go and get cleaned up.” Dean starts to walk away and y/n follows, grabbing her bag from the floor. Sam turns.

“Hey, Dean?” Dean stops and turns back while y/n passes him. “What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry.”

Dean holds up a hand. “No chick-flick moments.” Sam laughs and nods.

“All right. Jerk.” he looks down.

“Bitch.” dean retorts smiling.

“I call dibs on the shower!” y/n yells and run to the bathroom, closing the door before Dean can catch up.

“Now she’s the jerk.” He says and you and Sam laugh.

You take a quick shower and leave the bathroom so Dean can get cleaned too. You grab your phone and sit on the chair texting Bobby, saying you’re okay, with the boys and already knees deep in the case John was working on. Sam notices something, and crosses over for a closer look. A rosary hangs in front of a large mirror, and stuck into the mirror frame is a photo of John sitting on the hood of the Impala, next to a young Dean in a baseball cap, a young y/n on his back and with an even younger Sam, on John’s lap. Sam takes the photo off the mirror and holds it, smiling sadly.

A while later, Sam paces, holding his phone, and sits down on the bed, he’s listening to a voicemail Jess left for him. Dean, clean again, comes out of the bathroom and grabs his jacket. He shrugs it on one shoulder as he crosses the room.

“Hey, guys. I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?” he asks looking back at the two.

“No.” sam says listening to the message.

“Aframian's buying.” Dean smiles and waves the credit card to them both.

“I accept some fries, please.” y/n says smiling widely looking up from the article about Constance she was rereading. Sam shakes his head again.

A couple of minutes pass by and y/n’s phone rings, when she picks up is Dean.

“Man, five-oh, take off.” y/n stands up.

“What about you?” she asks worried.

“Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad.” Dean hangs up the phone. She looks through the corner of the window.

“They got Dean, we have to leave” she says to Sam that goes to the window to.

“What?” Sam asks. They see the deputy approaching and dart away from the window.

Sam and y/n, knock on the door at Joseph Welch house. An old man opens it: Joseph Welch.

“Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?” Sam asks when the man looks them over.

“Yeah.” he answers.

The three of them are walking down the junk-filled driveway, Joseph is holding the photo Sam found on John's motel room mirror. “Yeah, he was older, but that's him.” the older man hands the photo back to Sam “He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.”

“That's right. We're working on a story together.” y/n says smiling warmly and Joseph looks her up and down again.

“Well, I don't know what the hell kinda story you're working on. The questions he asked me?” the man frowns.

“About your wife Constance?” the girl asks.

“He asked me where she was buried.” He says never taking his eyes from her.

“And where is that again?” Sam jumps in the conversation.

“What, I gotta go through this twice?” He looks over at Sam.

“It's fact-checking. If you don't mind.” he explains trying to keep their cover.

“In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.” Joseph looks down.

“And why did you move?” y/n asks.

“I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.” He answers not looking up. Sam stops walking, y/n and Joseph do too.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?” Sam asks.

“No way.” He darts up to Sam, “Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.”

“So you had a happy marriage?” y/n continues. But Joseph doesn’t answer right away.

“Definitely.” He says after a while.

“Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.” Sam turns toward the Impala. But y/n hesitates. Joseph walks away, she waits a moment, then speaks again to Joseph.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?

Joseph turns around. “A what?”

“A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?” she explains further and Sam goes back to her side.

Joseph just stares at them. “It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.” Sam starts back “Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana” 

“All these are different women.You understand. But all share the same story.” y/n continues.

“Kids, I don't care much for nonsense.” Joseph walks away. Sam looks back at y/n and follows the old man.

“See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.” Joseph stops.

“And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.” y/n follows Sam and Joseph turns around. “Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.”

“You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartasses!” Joseph looks incredulously between them.

“You tell us.” Sam tells him.

“I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!” The man says, telling everything the duo needed to hear. Joseph's face shakes, whether from anger or grief it's impossible to tell. After a long moment, he turns away. Sam sighs.

When Dean leaves the station, after escaping because the cops had to investigate some gunshots from a 911 call, he spots y/n leaning against her bike at the corner of the street. He heads towards her.

“Fake 911 phone call? Chip, I don't know, that's pretty illegal.” He says smirking when he gets close enough.

“You're welcome.” She grins back and uncrosses her arms.

“Listen, we gotta talk.” Dean’s expression changes.

“Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so Sam is already heading there and it should have been John’s next stop.

“Chip, would you shut up for a second?” Dean tries to talk but the girl doesn’t stop.

“We just can't figure out why John hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.” she keeps going, looking over Dean’s shoulder.

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.”

“What? How do you know?” she asks, confused. Dean simply holds John’s journal up in his hands.

“ What? He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.” the girl looks at the old journal.

“Yeah, well, he did this time.” The man says and flips through, stopping at one page that says ‘DEAN 35-111’ “And he left a message, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going.”

“Coordinates. Where to?” she asks, reaching and grabbing the journal.

“I'm not sure yet.” he says handing her it.

“I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that John would just skip out in the middle of a job?” She looks up to the man in front of her “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

He shrugs and grabs her cellphone, that was sitting in the bike’s display, calling Sam.

“Hey y/n. I’m almost at the house, is Dean out yet?” Sam says after picking up, but then gasps and a tire squeal is heard before the line going dead.

“Sammy? Sam!” Dean asks before looking at y/n wide eyed.

“Let’s go!” She says hopping on the bike.

The car pulls up in front of Constance’s house and stops. The engine shuts off and so do the lights.

“Don't do this.” Sam says looking through the rearview mirror to Constance, who’s on the backseat. She flickers. 

“I can never go home.” Her voice is sad.

“You're scared to go home.” Sam realizes, looking back but Constance isn't there. He glances around and back and sees her in the shotgun seat. She climbs into his lap, shoving him back against the seat hard enough to recline the seat. Sam struggles.

“Hold me. I'm so cold.” She says with her hands roaming through his torso.

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!” Sam says determined.

“You will be. Just hold me.” Constance kisses Sam as he continues to struggle, reaching for the keys. She pulls back and disappears, a flash of something horrible behind her face as she vanishes. Sam looks around for a moment, then yells in pain feeling his chest on fire. There are five new holes burned through the fabric of his shirt, matching to Constance's fingers: she flickers in front of him, her hand reaching into his chest. A gunshot goes off, shattering the window and startling the ghost. Dean approaches, still firing at her while y/n went to the backseat, trying to open the door. Constance glares at Dean and vanishes, then reappears, and he keeps firing until she disappears again. Sam manages to sit up and start the car.

“I'm taking you home.” Sam says and drives forward. Dean and y/n stare after the car as it smashes through the side of the house. They hurry through the wreckage to the passenger side of the car.

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean yells after his brother.

“I think…” Sam starts from inside the car.

“Can you move?” y/n asks opening the passenger side door.

“Yeah. Help me?” he answers, reaching his hand Dean leans through to give Sam a hand.

Constance picks up a large framed photograph: the woman is Constance and the children are presumably hers. Dean helps Sam out of the car.

“There you go.” he says onde his little brother is on his foot. Y/n closes the car door. They look around and see Constance; she looks up. She glares at them and throws the picture down. A bureau scoots towards them, pinning them against the car. The lights flicker; Constance looks around, scared. Water begins to pour down the staircase. She goes over. At the top are the children from the photograph. They hold hands and speak in chorus.

“You've come home to us, Mommy.” two ethereal voices sound in unison. Constance looks at them, distraught. Suddenly they are behind her; they embrace her tightly and she screams, her image flickering. In a surge of energy, still screaming, Constance and the two children disappear. Sam and Dean shove the bureau over and the trio go look at the spot where ghosts vanished.

“So this is where she drowned her kids.” Dean says looking up. Sam nods.

“That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.” He looks at the photograph

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Y/n smiles at him and Dean slaps Sam on the chest where he's been injured and walks away. Sam laughs through the pain.

“Yeah, I wish I could say the same for Dean. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” He ask laughing incredulously.

“Hey. Saved your ass.” Dean says, leaning over to look at his car “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?” he twists around to look at Sam “I'll kill you.” Sam and y/n laugh.

The Impala tears down the road; the right headlight is out; with the Harley following.

Sam has the journal open to "DEAN 35-111" and a map open on his lap and is finding coordinates with a ruler, a flashlight tucked between chin and shoulder. His phone on speaker to y/n. She has the phone inside her helmet.

“Okay, here's where Dad went.” Sam says to both dean and the phone “It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“Sounds charming. How far?” y/n asks through the call.

“About six hundred miles.” he answers her.

“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning.” Dean says, then looking at the phone “Can you make it, Chip?”

“Yeah.” she says at the same time Sam starts.

“Dean, I, um…” he hesitates

“You're not going.” y/n says.

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there.” he looks at the phone then at the bike that lined to his window. Dean nods, disappointed, and returns his attention to the road.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever.” Dean says glancing at Sam.

“We'll take you home.” Sam turns the flashlight off.

“You can hang up now. We’ll talk at Stanford.” Sam does as he’s told and they drive on.

They pull up in front of the apartment, Dean still frowning. Sam gets out and y/n takes her helmet off. “Call me if you find him?” Sam asks Dean who nods.”And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?” he tells y/n, that smiles at him, but before she can say anything Dean says:

“Yeah, all right.” Sam pats the car door twice, side hugs y/n and turns away. Dean gets out of the car and heads to y/n side.

“Sam?” Sam turns back. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there. The three of us”

“Yeah.” he smiles. Dean turns to y/n and they start talking between them. Deciding their plan. Sam watches them talk for a couple of seconds and sighs, turning and heading inside.

After Sam gets inside the building y/n comments. “You know, he might be making the right choice. If he can have a normal life, who are we to deprive him of that?” she says getting off the bike to look into Dean’s eyes.

“I know. And I really hope he can do it, but I don’t think it is possible.” he sighs and rests his forehead on her chest “Besides, I’m really gonna miss him.”

“Yeah, so am I.” She puts her hands on the back of Dean’s head. She knows the moment is not about that, but she can’t help feeling some butterflies on her stomach by his action. Doesn’t matter how many times they share those moments she always feels them, even though she knows he only sees her as an annoying little girl who was raised like his sister. Sighting, she looks to Sam’s building to try and clear her head. When she sees the explosion of flames on one of the windows.

They both gasp and run inside. Getting to the floor of the flames, which happens to also be Sam’s apartment. Dean kicks the front door open.

“Sam!” Dean yells entering the apartment. They follow the flames and find Sam on the bed with one arm shielding his face.

“Jess!” He says looking at the ceiling, where the girl is on flames.

“Sam! Sam!” They both scream at him, grabbing him by the arm.

“No! No!” Sam keeps shouting as the two shove him out the door, he struggles all the way down. “Jess! Jess! No!” Flames engulf the apartment.

A fire truck is parked outside the building, firemen and police keeping back gawkers. Y/n looks on, then turns and walks back to Dean’s car. Sam is standing behind the open trunk, by Dean’s side loading a shotgun. Dean looks at the trunk, then at Sam, whose face pure rage. Sam looks up, then sighs, nods, and tosses the shotgun into the trunk.

“We got work to do.” He shuts the trunk and heads to the shotgun, leaving the other two staring at each other, not knowing how to comfort the youngest.

Author's Note: I know I'm not a good writer, but since most things are already written and I'm just addapting I think I won't hate as much as I normally do. Anyways sorry again for any mistakes.

[circulars-reasoning]

Hi, I hope this ask isn’t too invasive…

You’ve mentioned before that you’re an English teacher, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to speak a bit on how you became one (education? certifications?) and what it’s like for you teaching while living with DID.

The reason I ask is, I’m a senior in high school and I’ll be going to college in the fall. I’m really worried because I have so many alters who all want different things for my life. But in general, I’m drawn to teaching and many of my alters are okay with the idea of pursuing this as a career - especially if I can teach English, which has always been my best subject (I’m in the US).

I’m really scared about entering the adult world, and want to be as prepared as possible for this shift. Hearing from a system who followed the career path I’m considering would be really amazing!

If this ask bothers you or if you’re not comfortable answering it, I totally understand. Thank you for your time and consideration!

- Freya

Hey!!! Sorry I missed this ask -- I hardly use this blog and actually plan on deleting it soon. Just need to get around to reblogging the important posts.

But this is an important one, and I really want to respond here, in the hopes that you'll see it.

I'm an English teacher for 6th grade in the US, and I can say that, without a doubt, college was harder than being a teacher is currently. Do not let your experiences in college stop you from your goal. The professors will not be kind to you, especially if you don't know what's happening to you.

I'm going to pop this under a cut because boy howdy I am rambling.

In terms of college and working to become a teacher with DID:

Firstly, and most importantly: Scheduling. You will need to be completely on top of scheduling out your few years of college. You don't need to be perfect, mind you, but please be aware of what classes are required and when you will take them. My college fucked me over on this. The reason it's so vital is because most education programs in the US are 5 year programs -- 4 years of college, and a 5th year of one semester of a "practicum" (an unpaid internship at a school). During your practicum, you're not supposed to take any extra classes. I was taking 3 classes on top of my practicum to stay under 5 years. Don't do this. Either bite the bullet and do that extra 5th year of schooling, or plan accordingly so you don't get stuck the same way I did.

Now that that's out of the way:

DID definitely impacted my ability to study for things. It really helped having someone else holding me accountable; my partner, my roommate for 3 of my 4 years of college, really helped me out and basically did the education degree alongside me in spirit. If you can, find someone else to help you study.

That someone else should not be a fellow education major. This is because almost all of them will drop out by the time you graduate. That's a sorry truth, unfortunately. In my Junior Literature class of 6 students in my junior year, only 3 moved on with their degree; in my senior year, I was the only one who moved on. This is because college is fucking grueling, and everyone dropped out, thinking teaching would be harder (I'll get to that).

Don't try to overcome your disorder in college. Don't try to heal or recover while going through classes. Try to survive. You do not need to focus on recovery immediately, and it is a BAD idea to pile that much on your shoulders while in college and while teaching. Try to maintain and survive as best as you can. Recovery is a process and it will work on its own as you go through.

You can absolutely bullshit your way through an English degree, easy. It's not hard. Especially if you start writing about fanfiction in Lit 101 -- or at least, in my experience, that got me far. If you know you'd good at English, I would highly recommend it, esp if you're good at School English.

For your other classes, you'll likely have to do gen ed credits. Be creative and have fun. To fulfill my math credits, I took programming and "mathematical excursions" (you do fun shit with math and learn to pay for a house -- it was incredible). To fulfill science credits, I took Astronomy as a night class and got to look through a telescope during a night class for an A. It was awesome. (Well, ok, that class sucked, but you get the point).

DON'T OVERSTACK YOUR CREDITS. I wouldn't go above 18 credits per semester. I usually did around 16, and the minimum we could do was 12. Don't go minimum, but do not overstack. Again, scheduling, don't overschedule yourself.

You'll take a form of practicum each year more than likely. This will be where you go to a school and teach for a bit, and then you'll go do homework about what you taught. In your first year or two, you won't be doing almost any of the teaching; you'll shadow a mentor teacher who will show you how to do the thing. This is honestly so beneficial, but...

TAKE NOTES. For fucks sake, the memory part of DID fucking destroyed me in college, and notes would improve everything. Take double notes, honestly -- physical notes while in the school, and digital notes once you get home.

GET ENOUGH SLEEP. DID leads to insomnia so frequently. Start trying to keep good sleeping habits now, because it WILL get worse as college goes on. Do NOT do what I did and try to survive on 3 hours of sleep a night. It is not sustainable and you will catch every single disease these kids transfer onto people, I swear to god.

The Dean of Students will actually help. A lot. Please go to them if you're struggling. If you can't go, then send someone you trust to advocate for you. In my senior year when everything was going to shit with my mentor teacher (she was a horrible woman) and the admin at school were shitty to me (again, a horrible woman in charge), my partner went to the Dean and advocated for me. That mentor teacher was forced to retire from the school the next year, and my admin had to extend my semester by 3 days to give me a better practicum with someone who could actually do their fucking job. Do not feel scared to advocate.

Please. Please, if you remember nothing, remember this: do not listen to your coworkers in your final practicum. Don't listen to what they say about you becoming a teacher. These people are jaded assholes who, in my experience, want nothing more than to bomb the school. I wish I was kidding, but genuinely, so many of them are horrifically jaded and don't want to be there, ESPECIALLY when your practicum starts (which almost always coincides with state testing schedules). Teaching is awesome, genuinely, so long as you enjoy it.

And lastly for the college aspect: It gets easier. It really does. College was absolute hell for me up through senior year. This was because not only was I doing full coursework (ouch), but I was also starting to really understand and process bits of my trauma (yikes) and I was still with my abusers (yikes). This makes it so, so much harder, in so many ways. And I still did it. And now, here I am to live and tell the tale, and now that I am a teacher?

This shit is so much more forgiving. I have slipped up so fucking much, but as long as you do your best and mean well, your bosses will fucking adore you. They desperately need warm bodies in the room to help make sure the kids don't set fire to each other, and you are certainly going to fit the job description if you give a single shit.

Be open about some of your issues, but not all. I'm very open at work that I suffer from a disorder that leads to amnesia, but I'm careful about how I do this. "I actually have an issue that leads to a lot of forgetfulness, so if it's possible that you could send me a reminder of that meeting, I'd appreciate it." That's all I needed, and now we have a group calendar and my coworker has forgiven me numerous times for missing something.

Your mistakes as a system are completely seen as just. Normal Ass Human Mistakes. Forgot a meeting? Happens to everyone. Broke down crying in front of the kids? Shit fam, the teacher across the hallway walked out last week, you're doing remarkably just because you stayed.

The kids can fuck you up. Genuinely. They WILL trigger you. You WILL get memories of your childhood and it WILL hurt. And you will get through them with patience, time, and understanding. It'll be okay. Please, work hard on reminding yourself that these kids are not actively malicious. They do not understand your perspective.

To that note, almost every single teacher I know has a therapist. It is not a shocker to be in therapy. Most teachers need it. If you don't have one, I highly recommend getting one, if just to bitch about your coworkers with someone who will nod and say, "You deserved better than that, you're right."

Most of teaching is paperwork and meetings. Like genuinely, it's kind of ridiculous. We have meetings every Monday and Thursday, with occasional meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday. It's a LOT of meetings, and everything needs documented.

Work life balance. Please have one. This is when you start working on not bringing work home.

MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZZES ARE OKAY. GENUINELY. I was so firmly against them as a student in college -- "that doesn't test genuine knowledge!" Neither does school. Please save yourself the hours of grading and do a few multiple choice quizzes. In some counties the system you use will autograde them.

God I could talk about this for hours on end. I'm really genuinely happy to answer so many questions about this. If you want to know anything specific, feel free to ask. I'm also over on @circular-bircular and plan to use that as my main system blog, so you can ask me more questions there if you want.

You've got this. I am absolutely rooting for you.