#ill stop answering asks for a bit just to let this post sit at the top for a little more

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[lovisyandereblog]

Eyes on Me

Yandere Submissive Stalker X GN Reader

Part 3! Probably last part….maybe

Part 1 and 2 here. Also guys Im so sorry for my mistakes in my last post! I accidentally used she/her pronouns in my writing, I genuinely didn’t even realise it. Im so sorry guys!!

7 weeks. It had been 7 long fucking weeks and you were still stuck here.

Noah had kept you captive for nearly two months now, but he never let you feel like you were one.

He would gift you things you wanted nearly everyday, Noah would cook your favourite dishes for you, he would shower you with love and affection, always making sure your every want and need was met.

All he asked for in return was your love…thats all he wanted.

And it seemed like you were slowly giving in.

What else could you do?! He was so adorable, so cute, so kind, so sweet…you were slowly becoming more lenient towards him.

For example, you weren’t kicking, hitting or screaming anymore. You were eating your food rather than throwing it away and yelling. And you were a bit more welcoming to his kisses, his soft and loving kisses.

Noah was also letting you roam free in his large house. You had an idea of who he was now. Noah was a very famous doctor, and was very wealthy. He was a psychiatrist who always treated his patients with care and love, never making them feel like they were a burden.

But although he let you roam the house freely, he never let you outside.

Creak…

The door opened and you stared at it, the same sweet smile you saw everyday greeting you.

“Good morning my love~!! Have you had a nice nights sleep?” Noah came closer to you, stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead. You were so used to it at this point that you didn’t even bat your eye at his affection.

“ `Morning…” You mumbled as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, sitting up slowly.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in the mornings~?” Noah said in a sing-song voice, twirling a piece of your y/c hair with his finger.

You tried to hide your blush as you turned your head away, “W-whatever…”

Noah chuckled and kissed your cheek again, “Come! Go get freshened up and lets have breakfast! I’ve asked the cook to make you your favourite french toast!”

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to praise him. He practically lived for your praise and attention, but you would rarely give it to him.

“Oh..thank you Noah..Ill go get ready…” You murmured as you rushed to the toilet. Noah watched you go, hearts practically engrained in his eyes. For you. Just for you~

At the breakfast table, Noah was staring at you lovingly as he fed you the toast.

“I can feed myself…” You tried to protest, but he whined.

“P-please! Please let me Y/N…Im begging you~” His eyes were so cute, you just couldn’t help but give into his pleads.

“Fine..just stop looking at me like that…” You replied hastily, and he immediately brightened up and went straight back to feeding you.

After your 5th or 6th bite, you started feeling quite full, putting your hand up to stop the bite in Noah’s hand to come near your mouth. He nodded and ate the bite himself, smiling at you with such a lovesick grin.

You swallow nervously, looking at him. You had to ask him a question really badly, it was really important, “Noah?”

“Yes my angel, my love, my darling~?” Noah answered, hearts in his eyes as he looks at you. You had to keep yourself from smiling at his cheesy terms of endearment.

“Can you please let me go outside? I haven’t seen the outside world in like 2 months…” You complained, making him frown immediately and look away.

“Y-Y/N, you know how sorry I am…I feel so guilty baby…” Tears already filled his eyes as he spoke, making you sigh as you always gave into his tears.

“But…but I can’t let you go…Im scared you’re going to leave me. I can’t live without you my love…I’ll die!” Noah started to cry, holding your hands and bringing it to his heart. On the inside, he knew he was manipulating you but what else could he do?! He genuinely did love you so so much.

He loved you to the point of obsession.

You thought to yourself as you just stared at him, he sniffed and gave you puppy eyes. You knew you had to do something in order to get out of this place, otherwise he’d just keep you locked up forever. You wanted your life back and you knew just how to do it.

It involved giving into Noah’s love in order to regain your freedom. There was no other way. You had tried to escape in the past but he always…always found you.

“Noah…if I become your..partner..will you let me have more freedom?” You asked, and he immediately jumped up, looking at you hopefully.

“Y-Y/N?! Are….are you being serious?!” Noah couldn’t believe it, all his hard work finally paid off. You would finally be all his.

“Yes Noah, I’ve thought about it a lot and I want to start a relationship with you, but you have to promise you’ll let me go-” You had barely finished your sentence when he suddenly fainted, making you let out a loud scream.

You immediately went on your knees, cradling him in your lap as you tried to nudge him awake.

‘What the fuck??’ You thought to yourself as you check his pulse and sighed in relief when it’s normal.

“Now what am I to do with you…” You mumble to yourself before a plan comes to mind.

Paybacks a bitch…

Noah woke up with a groan, his eyes slowly opening yet his sight was still hazy.

‘What happened…?’ He thought to himself as he tried to sit up, but his eyes widened when he couldn’t move. He looked up and saw his wrists were tied together and attached to the headboard of the bed. To add to this, his ankles were tied to the bottom poles of the bed. He looked down and noticed he was now wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt.

He thrashed around, trying to get out of his restraints to no avail. This couldn’t be happening. Where the hell were you?!

Noah began to sob and panic as millions of thoughts raced through his poor little head. He started to think of how you had left him and he’d never see you again.

“Y/N!! P-PLE-HIC-PLEASEE I’M S-SORRY…DON’T L-LEAVE ME…I’LL DIE W-HIC-WITHOUT YOU!!!” He was genuinely going crazy without you, where did you go?? Why would you leave him? Was he not good enough?! He’d change for you—he will; just give him a chance!!

“Y/N!! C-COME BA—” His words were cut off by you suddenly placing a hand over his mouth, “Shut the fuck up,” You seethed, glaring at him as he looked up at you with teary blue eyes.

Where you came from, he didn’t know but he was just happy that you were here. Although he was genuinely scared from how angry you looked, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at the fact that you hadn’t left. He was so delusional that he thought you had came back for him❤️❤️❤️ (A/N he’s so weird I love him)

But he also had a little problem because of you on top of him; all of his fantasies were coming true. Oh god just ruin him already!!

He whined against your hand and tried to buck his hips up, making you grip onto his mouth even harder, “I said shut up you fucking brat, can’t listen to simple instructions?”

The mix of your strong body on top of him and your cruel words made the poor boy’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his back arched; pathetic moans leaving him.

No way….did he just….?

You look down and saw a wet patch forming on his crotch, you internally smirked at how much of an effect you had on him but you had to keep up your strict persona, “Did you just fucking cum, you slut?”

Noah panicked, his pretty eyes filling with even more tears as he shakes his head “no,” worried that you’d be disgusted with him. (He secretly wanted you to treat him like trash)

But could you blame him for cumming?? You were literally on top of him looking as beautiful as ever, whispering demeaning words at him and you expected him not to cum?

“Mmm…n-not a s-slut…” He tried to mumble against your hand, looking at you with such love in his eyes. You nearly felt bad for him.

You suddenly slap him on the face, making him whine out in pain and pleasure as he breathed heavily from the release of his mouth from your hand. You took a second to admire the sight below you:

His blonde locks were messy, bangs sticking to his forehead. His cheeks were all rosy and wet with tears as was his mouth which was covered in his drool. Noah’s big blue eyes were looking to the side, embarrassed to face you as he bit his pretty pink lips.

You gripped his hair roughly, making him whine out, “Did I say you could talk back? Did I say you could fucking look away?”

He shook his head frantically, mentally face palming himself for disobeying you, “N-no! No…‘mm sorry!! S-sorry…please…”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it pretty boy…I think I need to teach you a lesson hmm? For all the bad things you did…” You leaned in close to his ear and he could feel his dick harden again from your proximity, “….for kidnapping me, keeping me locked up here…you’ve been a bad boy haven’t you~?”

Noah had started to sob, tears cascading down his adorable pink cheeks; he didn’t want to be a bad boy!! He wanted to be good, so good, for you!

“N-no! Mm so-sorry!! I’m n-not a bad boy! I-I’m a g-good boy…your good boy!!” He desperately begged, looking up at you in hopes you’d believe him. He knew what he had done was wrong but his intentions were never bad, he promises!!

You couldn’t help the heat pooling in your lower stomach from the way he was begging, god his desperation was so hot. So what if he was a deranged, psychotic, obsessive lunatic? He was cute!!

“But you haven’t proven to me you’re a good boy…so a punishment is really needed~” You said with a devilish smirk forming on your face, making both his heartbeats race (if you get what I mean💀💀)

You lean over and open one of the drawers, an assortment of items you had bought while he had been unconscious. His eyes widened in fear and excitement as he saw you bring a ball gag to his mouth, “Mmnnoo!! Y-Y/N!!” He tried to beg but you had already sealed his mouth shut.

Then you proceeded to pick up a remote like device you bought, Noah looked at it in confusion while tilting his head. You smirked at how adorable he looked, he didn’t know what he had gotten himself into.

With the click of a button, Noah’s back arched as he felt pleasure coursing through his body. He hadn’t even realised that a vibrator was lodged inside him! You must have put it in while he was unconscious.

“MMMNNGGH~!” He moaned against the gag, his body twisting and shaking, poor little baby was so sensitive!

You turned the vibrator off and he slumped down, his chest heaving, “Now for your punishment, I’m going to leave you here with that vibrator on and you’re going to cum over and over again until I’m satisfied, do you understand?”

Noah’s eyes widened and he shook his head profusely. This wasn’t what he wanted, he wanted to feel you, to touch you, to have you make him feel good; not this stupid toy!

He also didn’t want to be alone, he felt like he’d die if you weren’t near him so he began to cry, “N-noooo!! Mmm stayy!” His voice came out muffle which only made you smirk even more.

It was evident you were a sadist; seeing him whine and beg like that really turned you on. However you were doing this also to make sure it was engrained in his head who was in charge: you. It was to make sure he’d never pull a stunt like this again and would also prove his obedience to you.

“You said you wanted to be my good boy didn’t you Noah~? So be a good boy and take it.” You said sternly, turning the vibrator on once more before walking out of the room, leaving the door open a little bit so you’d hear him.

His moans and cries followed you as he begged for you to come back, but with the gag in his mouth he could only do so much.

Noah’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he came again with a cry, his boxers were now dirty with his jizz. He sobbed as the vibrations bullied his poor prostrate, he wanted you to make it feel better, please come back!

And then he came for the third time, and the fourth and then the fifth. It felt like hours had gone by (it had only been 30 minutes) since you left him in this state; his whole body was shaking as his hips bucked to try and get away from the vibrations but to no avail.

“Nnnngghh~!! ‘S t-too m-much…too much!” He whined, mainly to himself but it came out as mixed garbles.

You finally graced him with your presence and entered the room, your own arousal building up at the sight of him. But you also felt pity on him, it was clear that he had never felt the touch of anyone his entire life—let alone come numerous amounts of times!

He hadn’t noticed you came in yet, his mind was all foggy and hazy; the only thing he could focus on was the vibrations in his ass.

You say next to him and his head immediately darted towards you, tears pooled his eyes and he begged you to make it stop, “P-pleasshh~” He tried to say but the gag and the tormenting toy stopped him from being able to vocalise himself.

You cooed at him and turned the vibrations to the lowest level, yet not quite turning it off yet, “Have you learnt your lesson~?” You ask, and he nods eagerly and tries to get closer to you: to feel your comfort, your warmth, your affection, your love~

You take mercy on him and take out the gag since it was clearly hurting his jaw, he lets out a moan of relief as incoherent ‘thank yous’ and ‘I love yous’ leave his mouth.

“Shhh…it’s okay, I’ve got you~” You whisper in his ear, you gently take his underwear off and take the vibrator out, making him whine, “Mmmh…s-sensitive..ahhnngh~”

He gave you such adorable eyes, pleading for you to make him feel better so you cupped his face, “Don’t worry, I’ll take all the pain away, I promise…you’re my good boy right~?”

As soon as he heard the words, “Good boy,” he immediately nodded like a mad-man, “Mmm your good boy! P-please…please…y-yours…”

You could tell he was extremely exhausted from the torment you put him through, so you untied his wrists and ankles which made him cling onto you like a spider monkey; you let out a soft chuckle, “Noah…you have to let me go…I need to clean you up…”

“N-no! D-don’t go…please…” Tears pooled his eyes yet again, making you coo at him which he melted to.

“Shhh…alright, we can cuddle for a bit but then I have to clean you okay~?” You wrapped your arms around his waist aswell, being careful not to touch his very sensitive lower body.

Noah could still feel the tingles and electricity coursing through his body, but once you held him in your arms—he felt all that pain go away. He snuggled further into you, his face buried in your neck.

“I love you so much…I love you Y/N..” He mumbled against your skin, kissing it softly.

And you found yourself saying something you’d never imagine saying the first day you met him;

“I love you too Noah~”

Ahhhh! Finally finished this!!

—>my masterlist <3

Tags❤️ (you can asked to be tagged for any of my posts):

@vinivave @eternalmasquerading

mdni banner used from @cafekitsune !!

[jaysswlvrr]

Academic Rivals: An Unlocked Drawer| p.sh rival!reader x rival!sunghoon

request>> its a bit long but tysm(!) to the anon who sent it, i was planning on smth for hoon but tysm for the idea<3

authors note>> ik i haven't posted in a while but somehow we gained another 100 followers overnight?! guys tysmmmm<3

minors do NOT read or interact (please)

"your grades have dropped drastically, I thought you were better than that", your teacher scolded. "I really want to help you so" you looked curious as your teacher stopped talking. "I got you a tutor, I think you know him". She walks toward the door revealing the presence of one and only,

Park Sunghoon.

He had a big smirk, entering the room and facing you. Your teacher thins her lips in a reassuring smile,"Ill leave you two to it then", she spoke, gathering her books and leaving before you could stop her. You look up at him, a pout of hatred and anger plastered on your face. You lightly roll your eyes as he bends to your height. Telling him your address with a quick 'dont be late', before turning on your heel to leave.

And thats how you got here now, bored and revising things that you never even knew existed. He stops talking, causing you to look up at him as if you knew he was going to say something off-topic. "Got any snacks?" he asks, smiling as you reluctantly stand up, letting out an annoyed sigh. You walk out of the room, unintentionally swaying your hips.

Sunghoon's gaze moves from your back to your ass. Your small shorts barely cover any of your flesh. He bites his lip, forcing his eyes away from the sight. You on the other hand are struggling to get the snacks for the top shelf (lmao) 'how did they even get there?' you think. You can't find anything decent to give him, so you make popcorn instead.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon looked around your room. It was filled with small pictures of yourself on beaches and small revision notes. His eyes were slowly drawn to small drawers, the middle draw with a black silk bow on the handle. It had a lock, but when he realised it was slightly opened, it made him more curious as to what was inside. Maybe it was some weird cringy 'dear diary' or childish photos.

In fact, it was the opposite. It was full of different sex toys, ones he never expected you would own, or even know of.

Instead of being disgusted, he bit his lip, never knowing that you were this filthy and dirty. He loved this, so many lewd thoughts ran through his mind. Imagining how you would twitch around the toy, letting out small moans and whines, oh he wanted you so bad.

He grabbed a small vibrator turning it on and seeing the small bud move made him smirk. There was also a small matching remote, a setting to speed and slow down the vibrations. He grabbed it and put it in his pocket, waiting for you to return.

You finally enter the room, your shirt exposing your waist as you were reaching for the top cupboard earlier. You place the popcorn in front of him and sit down. "There were no snacks so I had to make popcorn"

"Try it for me, please?" you watch as he takes one in his hand. His eyes never leave yours ashe puts the piece in his mouth. You gulp down the horniness building up in you, ignoring the wet patch forming between your legs. "Its alright" he answers, breaking your thoughts.

You turn back to your book but his deep voice stops you. "I think you forgot to lock something" he starts as your eyes connect to his, not understanding him. He pushes the chair back on its wheels, pulling the draw with him.

Your eyes widen as he reveals what you had thoughtg you locked before. You start to stutter an explanation but before you could protest, he pulls you towards him. "youre just as filthy as i thought you were" his breath blows on your face and he lets out a breathy laugh as you dont respond. "Couldve just asked me to fuck you" he taunts in your ear, his breath tickling down your neck.

"You want a cock don't you?" He mocks you, pouting as you slightly nod. "Get up for me then" you immediately get up like an eager puppy, ready to do anything for him. You watch as he pulls down his jeans, revealing his revealing his pink, leaking cock.

And look at you know, all on top of him and trembling as the small vibrator sped up again. "C'mon then, next question," he smiles as you still try your best to focus. You have sweat running down your neck, back, forehead, everywhere possible. "I-is is 52?"

He chuckles softly, "wrong baby" he coos. You start to sob again. "Sunghoon, t-too much!" he laughs as your body jolts to him adding the speed. "c'mon next one". This question was way more easier so you finally (estupido) got it right. "please let me cum sunghoon- please!" You can feel him thrusting up into you, it feels overwhelming but its just so good.

You can feel his dick hitting so high into those spongey spots no one has hit before. Even when you looked down, you could see the bulge in your belly which only made you moan more. "Hold it in a little longer baby" but you couldnt hear him anymore. Your eyes were at the back of your head at every thrust he did.

"Please sunghoon!" he sighs loudly, finally giving you a reassuring hum. As if you could hold it any longer, you feel your orgasm rain over you. Both yours and sunghoons liquid mix down your thighs.

♡

small aftercare~

Your in the bath with sunghoon bent over to your level and scrubbing your sore plush body. "Want to do this again?" your eyes grow bigger in plead but he just giggles lightly.

"Sure"

took me so long, i apologise

[loozer]

Javierxm!reader where reader admires Javier who gets flustered about it would be so cute!!

Alright, first fic after a while of not writing, with my favorite mexican man, let's do this. I hope you enjoy it, feedback is always appreciated🙏

Warnings;: One mention of reader being a guy, but it was written with a male reader in mind. Not really any other warnings

Usually, Javier would sleep as much as he could unless he had guard duty and was up until the early hours of the morning before someone would come to relieve him and take his post. But tonight, tonight would be an exception.

He's sat by the fire, sharpening his knife. The only sounds being the crickets chirping, someone snoring, the crackle of the fire, and Javier's knife running across the whetstone. Until footsteps were added to the mix.

"Javier? What are you doing up this late?" It was you, and Javier felt the hints of a smile tug at his lips as you sat down on the log across from him.

"I could ask you the same." He chuckled, taking a moment to glance up at you. The warm glow of the fire highlighted your features perfectly, shadowing some parts that the fire's light had trouble reaching but you still looked absolutely handsome either way.

"Can't sleep." Javier answered simply, and you nodded in understanding.

Your eyes stayed on Javier where he was sat, his outfits always so well put together, sometimes you thought of how much money he spent buying the clothes for each piece of his outfit.

It wasn't often that you'd find yourself fantasizing about someone, but Javier had wormed his way into your mind, plauging most of your thoughts like an illness without the cure. Yet, you didn't know if you ever wanted to find said cure.

His voice was something that could be described as angelic, soothing the loudest parts of your mind to a quiet and low whisper. His eyes dark as coffee, but when the light of the setting sun would shine in them, they appeared like pools of honey.

"You're staring, that's kinda rude y'know?" His voice broke your train of thought and when you finally looked at his face, he was staring deeply into your eyes. Looking into your very soul.

"Uh- Sorry." Clearing your throat, you looked away. And Javier being the man that he is, knew there was something on your mind, and he wanted to know.

"Anything you wanna say?" Javier asked, stilling his movements and giving you his full attention.

Looking around, for peering eyes because you knew Micah was definetly up at this hour and his antagonizing would be endless if he saw or heard, and in general because you could not look at Javier without picking him apart to find more things to love and admire.

"No. We- well, I mean. I guess. I'm just, thinking." Trying to choose your words carefully, you stumble over them, only further peaking Javier's curiousity.

Javier leaned forward, "Go ahead, tell me, we're both men here I think I can handle it." He inquired, his tone becoming a bit more playful.

"Well uh,.." You started, palms becoming sweaty before you cleared your throat "You're.. pretty. For a guy, I s'pose." Your voice became softer as you admitted your reason for staring.

Before he could get a response in, you had stood up and began to make your way towards the outskirts of camp, most likely to relieve whoever was on guard duty and take their place in keeping the camp safe.

Javier stayed, processing what you had said to him. What you had called him. Pretty. You had called him pretty. He felt his entire body grow warm, and it was not just from the fire infront of him. He shook his head to stop thinking about it and went back to tending to his knife.

Except he couldn't stop thinking about it, and he wouldn't. There you go, invading his mind and making his heart beat faster than it should. And that's how he stayed for as long as he could remember, sitting by the fire, sharpening his knife, thinking about what you had called him with a flush overtaking his face. The corners of his lip quirked up in a small smile.

[girlscoutbrownies]

sbg headcanons!

(i had to put a title because it keeps just showing up as “aiden” in my notifs)

some of my favourite school bus graveyard headcanons! (in celebration of 101 followers) some are mine, some belong to other people that i’ve taken as well

these got really, really long so ill split it into two parts: aiden, tyler, and taylor for this post and ashlyn, ben, and logan will be in the next

——

aiden

(bit of a tw for disassociation around the end)

- uses he/any pronouns, he mostly doesn’t give a fuck. also doesn’t care if you stick to he/him because he likes it. he also tries out mirror pronouns every once in a while and flipflops between any

- unlabelled energy. also doesn’t care abt that type of stuff, but he’s asexual and it takes him a while to grow feelings. he’s afraid of letting people close to him but it really doesn’t matter to him, not that much. he’s pretty apathetic about it

- generally smells like shittily applied cedarwood cologne. it’s one of those cheap drugstore brands and sometimes he forgets to apply it in the morning, and he doesn’t spray it very well. also smells like grass sometimes

- his favourite subject is psychology/maths/anything logic based (he likes those puzzles). growing up with his bitchass karen mom who probably twisted all the words he said, he doesn’t like cryptic or vague language or poetry (english class) because it reminds him of her. in math, there’s only one answer. in english, there’s hundreds. also the words swim on the paper and he finds it hard to focus

- he has his ears pierced. he begged his parents to take him to an ear piercing studio they just ended up taking him to claire’s but he was still so happy about it

- he BEGGED for a dog or a pet when he was very little but eventually stopped at some point. he asked for stuffed animals and never got any because “it would be too hard to keep track of when we’re moving and you would lose them and get sad” and he’s still very upset about it. used to hug like three pillows when he slept

- he was told they were settling down in georgia and now his current room has millions of stuffed animals i will not hear any arguments about this

- he’s a kicker in his sleep (when he gets any). he kicks plushies off his bed like all the time, he’s not apologetic though he’s just like “oh shit”

- worst and best guy to have a sleepover with. super clingy

- he knows very few actual life skills other than operating a microwave for frozen meals because he largely grew up alone without his parental figures in his life. ashlyn and tyler eventually teach him how to cook

- his growth is stunted bc of that period in his life and he’s short like ashlyn

- he is a HORRIBLE gossip addict. they’ll be sitting at the lunch table eating in silence and he drops “did you hear that samantha’s parents are divorced and madison dropped her bc samantha’s mom doesn’t drive them to the mall anymore” like HUH WHERE DID YOU HEAR THIS?

- he gets school lunch and very rarely (if ever) brings lunch from home. sometimes ben makes him lunches

- plays with his food (this is canon) but he makes storylines out of whatever he does its like his personal roman empire

- big fan of extreme foods (spicy, sour, etc) ((he grew up eating plain ramen)) and loves weird food combinations. everyone always makes weird faces at him when theyre at the mall and he orders weird shit

- he doesn’t know proper meal etiquette until someone has to tell him, his parents didn’t teach him anything (I HATE THEM)

- he’s a really bad cook like ben because he always ends up getting distracted, and somehow manages to skip over steps in the recipes.

- he probably likes cooking shows though and is like “yeah i could do that” (he can’t do that)

- the first time someone (tyler) made aiden a homecooked meal he started cry laughing (it was mostly crying) (nobody talks about it)

- the few times his mom has made him meals whenever she’s home they’re really bad. they don’t taste anything like home, but he didn’t know what home tasted like so he just cried. his mom thought it was because of how good it was (it wasn’t) and he just cried harder

- he dislikes bitter flavours, especially like, orange juice that you make from scratch but you don’t put any sugar in it (it’s because his mom once tried to make homemade orange juice/lemonade to feel more like a “real mom” and it was horrible

- he’ll still eat bitter food though he just wouldn’t like it that much

- likes crunchy food or food that pops in your mouth (poprocks) bc he thinks its cool

- probably needs glasses from how long he’s spent staring at screens (his backstory)

- the one thing his parents consistently did as a kid was take him to his doctors appointments so he has stellar teeth

- he’s fit and fairly athletic (jumping off walls and all) but he doesn’t play sports because he just. isn’t interested in any of it. he tries everything but nothing really sticks that much

- he eats his greens but probably wouldn’t care much for the healthy vegan lifestyle, not that much of a picky eater (this part is canon)

- his favourite holiday is halloween because 1. candy (which he didn’t get much as a kid unless he specifically asked for it or ben brought it over) and 2. he loves dressing up it’s so fun to him

- understimulation is the BANE of his existence he genuinely wants to tear out his own hair every time he gets like that. gets really irritated

- he disassociates a lot, generally experiences a lot of derealization. he doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body sometimes

- insomniac

- chases thrills so that he can “feel” something. doesn’t care if it hurts him or not, because at least then he’ll remember he’s a real person and that his life matters

- really bad at telling when people are lying/are irritated with him. he just keeps pushing until they explode

- good with secrets (his own) but isn’t good at deflecting if asked about someone else’s. he’s just like “ummm. would u look over there. a bird!”

- runs really fast, he wakes up early in the morning to take a walk around the neighborhood. he sometimes encounters tyler if he happens to go into his city (which is often, because he doesn’t like being in his house)

- his house is always really cold, which is why he tends to run really warm (his body is compensating). he knows how to turn the ac off, but it always ends up turning back on in the middle of the night

- he grew up learning The Gifted Child instrument; the piano. he dislikes classical music (he says it’s boring but it’s because of this). he also almost got forced to learn the violin but he once practiced so hard his fingers started bleeding which is how he got out of it

- likes verbal validation bc his parents never told him they were proud of him

taylor

- she/they cis demigirl, gets a bit upset at being misgendered though (people think she’s the transfem twin because tyler passes really well)

- bisexual fem pref

- decorates her locker for almost every occasion. halloween, christmas, easter, birthdays. also decorates other people’s lockers for their birthdays before school starts with sticky notes

- has tons of stuff in her locker (except food because tyler won’t let her) just in case anyone needs anything but she’s not very organized so she doesn’t know where anything is

- because of this she’s one of those people that barely makes it to the door before the bell rings but she’s trying to fix that habit

- enjoys crime documentaries/true crime, horror stuff. used to make tyler watch with her but his anxiety gets really bad and he started getting paranoid

- adores christmas bc it’s a family holiday she makes tyler and her mom homemade gifts every year

- loves dogs with every bone in her body she asks santa for one every year but alas. tyler always has to write “a letter from santa” back saying they ran out of dogs at the north pole

- uses emoticons like “:D :] :3” all the time when she types, downloaded a bunch of sticker packs too. especially cat ones

- had her future all planned out as a kid and told her dad she’d be a mechanical engineer and build trains and rockets to bring him places when he started getting really sick and couldn’t move anymore

- her hair is actually kind of dry (compared to aiden’s or ashlyn’s) because they couldn’t afford great shampoo or anything

- has an ehh skincare routine and doesn’t care much for her fashion sense, just wears whatever’s comfortable

- knows a lot of random facts as conversation starters, she’s surprisingly good at small talk ( + comforting people)

- gossips with aiden aallll the time bc she’s super sociable and knows lots of people who tell her secrets. she doesn’t tell any of the important ones but just little drama things

- her and aiden are bffs

- really likes kids because they’re funny, she has a big imagination like them so it’s easy for her to play with them

- she’s a swiftie and whenever someone asks her if she likes taylor swift as a joke bc of her name she says “i like all music!” (she loves tswift)

- really likes sweets over most types of food, she’s healing her inner child guys

- has always ALWAYS wanted to go to a circus/carnival/festival when she was younger, but they couldn’t afford tickets. she still has that dream but she obviously has bigger priorities now…

tyler

- transmale he/him

- doesn’t care that much about dating, he actually doesn’t think about it that much until he meets The Gang. he always too busy taking care of his family to bother with relationships

- dislikes heavy meals, eats in small portions. it’s a habit

- used to be a picky eater but isn’t anymore, when he was younger they struggled to put food on the table so

- he’s like tigris from ballad of songbirds and snakes; when he prepared food for the family he’d eat bits and pieces of it while cooking. eats raw meat sometimes but once got sick from it so never again because he doesn’t want people taking care of him

- he HATES being sick. HATES HATES HATES it, hates having to burden people

- stress cooks because he likes having things to do with his hands. he also runs laps/paces around when he’s stressed

- runs his hands through his hair so it’s always messy

- he doesn’t bother combing his hair unless it’s for a special occasion like the first day of school, he just doesn’t care that much

- gets up early like aiden to keep up his physical fitness, doesn’t stray far though because his mom wakes up around the same time he does

- is VERY punctual. will be furious if someone makes plans and then is late. always arrives somewhere like, fifteen minutes early. he’s trying to break taylor’s habit of being late

- occasionally scolds taylor about how messy her locker is

- is extremely (and kind of scarily) meticulous. clean backpack, clean locker, clean room. it’s a habit

- book smart and figures things out pretty easily. he has an internal computer inside his head i swear. latches onto concepts very quickly

- likes math because he’s good at memorizing concepts but biology is his worst enemy, he gets queasy very easily

- motion sickness

- doesn’t actually have a set plan for the future, other than “help his family.” will probably do something related to sports (sports scholarship) or will do something math/analytical related

- spams people when they don’t respond to him but quits eventually (semicanon)

- has some sort of separation anxiety i swear he does

- keeps every single promise he makes because he hates broken promises (his dad told him he’d be fine and out of the hospital soon), he also doesn’t make a lot of promises

- dislikes nicknames like “champ” and “buddy”

- he’s ambidextrous

- he always seems to be like, tense? can’t relax at all. it might be because of his anxiety (HE HAS ANXIETY)

- only ever relaxes if he’s at home

- rarely watches television, he says it’s a waste of time (he always gets distracted and gets up and goes to do something else) he can leave it in the background though

- i think he has chronic pain, i don’t know where but i just think he does. everything just aches sometimes and he’s so young fuck life

- he’s okay with kids like his sister, not as good as her but he’ll take care of them (habit x37362828) he’d probably say everything really monotone though “there’s santa claus, wow.”

- he and taylor both have a pretty strong southern accent from living in middle of nowhere georgia (i think someone made an art post on this a while back :D)

- is really bad at video games because he gets frustrated easily

- he grinds his teeth when he sleeps and has jaw pain what a loser

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam, Dean, and Y/N investigate a haunting in an abandoned asylum rescuing two teenagers who ventured in, they become trapped with the spirits of those who had died in a riot decades ago, one of which was a doctor who causes extreme rage in his victims.

Warnings: Cannon violence, murder and mentions of suicide, arguing, banter, usage and mention of guns, ghosts, panicking/ anxiety, a little bit of angst

A/N: There will be a confusing part where your like who is she talking about and to that I say all in due time. Also i’m sorry it seems like i’m giving up on this (I didn’t realize I posted the last part a month ago) IM NOT i’m just super busy with school, if you’ve taken APUSH you get it—i’m fighting for my life.

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes, @star-yawnznn

Word Count: 11,033

Asylum

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch)

I let out a big sigh, slumping in my chair as I do so, my head falling onto my laptop's keyboard, “How is your dad moving from place to place so fast”, I grumble into the keys. “Literally how!” My head shoots up as I complain, looking at Dean who sat across from me with his head propped up on one hand as he stared down at his fathers journal.

His eyes meet mine even as his head faces the book, his stare tells me everything I need to know. He’s also very frustrated, certainly more than me and he too has no answers.

I contemplate slamming my head against my keyboard when Sam walks back into their hotel room. His phone clasped tightly in his hand after he just went outside to call several people. “Caleb hasn't heard from him?” Dean asks his approaching brother even though the answer is written on his disappointed face.

“Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Paster Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?” Sam shoots back, referencing people the Winchesters knew. I had heard of them too, most of them really good friends of the boys but I never actually met them.

Now it’s Dean's turn to answer and complain, “No, same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out.... I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like frickin’ Yoda.”

“You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person’s.” Sam sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“But isn’t he like, you know…wanted?” I ask, considering being a Hunter comes with breaking a lot of laws, like a lot. “That and Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail” Dean adds.

Sam’s face contorts into anger, “I don't care anymore.” Suddenly a cell phone rings from across the room, Dean's phone to be exact who immediately goes over to his bag. Sam huffs something between a sigh and a frustrated grunt, “After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and...nothing.”

“I know!” Dean yells loudly, snapping, the sound echoing off the ill painted walls. He rummages through his duffel rougher, “Where the hell is my cellphone?”

“You know, he could be dead for all we know.”

“Don't say that!” He snaps again, “He's not dead! He's – he's…”

“He’s not dead, your father is good at what he does. I'm sure he’s just caught up in something.” I tried to reason, turning in my chair so I could face both boys.

“Like that’s a good excuse” Sam spits back.

“Hey, I never said it was! But it certainly is a better and more optimistic view than death!” I lecture, my face scrunching up in offense.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles quietly getting our attention, “I don't believe it.” His words stopped Sam from saying anything further to me. His focus turned back on his brother, “What?” He asks.

“It's, uh....It's a text message. It's coordinates.” Dean answers and it’s clear who the message is from. I want to turn to Sam and say ‘Ha! told you so!’ but I hold back on the childish, but totally correct, notion. Before Sam can say anything snarky about the message Dean cuts him off, “Can I steal that?” He asks me to point to my open laptop. I nod my head quickly, “Go ahead.”

He walks back over to the table turning my laptop until it’s facing him and where he sat. “You think Dad was texting us?” Sam asks as his brother types away.

“He's given us coordinates before.” Dean answers.

“The man can barely work a toaster, Dean.”

“To be fair, a toaster and coordinates are pretty different. All you need is a paper map” I cut in, earning a hard glance from Sam. I could not explain why he suddenly had a problem with me other than the fact I disagreed with him, which in that case makes him just as childish as I wanted to be.

“Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least.” Dean adds, arguing.

“Well, was there a number on the caller ID?” Sam pushes, still somehow convinced it isn’t his Dad which when I think about it is pretty harsh. Would he rather his dad was dead? Probably not.

Dean answers, “Nah, it said 'unknown'.”

“Well, where do the coordinates point?” Sam follows up.

“That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois.”

“Ok, a little random, but what’s specifically so interesting about Illinois?” I ask this time.

“I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this.” He turns my laptop around with a news article zoomed in on a black and white photo of a cop, “This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

“Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?” Sam asks, again I want to say something about him asking a dumb question but I hold back not wanting any more sass from him or anyone.

“Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let’s see…” He scoots my laptop back, pulling open his Dads stuffed journal that sat on the table. “Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths – till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go.”

Sam snorts, “This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job.”

Dean shrugs, “Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?”

“Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing.” Sam snaps back.

“Does it matter? I mean we know it’s a hunt and we get to help people. I don’t see a loss in going.” I say, half shrugging.

“This doesn't strike either of you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?” Sam argues, his head snapping from his brother to me. It’s a good point to be honest but what else is there to do? Though I do not make that question vocal.

“Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.” Dean yells, final word. Sam makes a nasty bitchface and sighs, saying nothing more.

I lean against the cold exterior of the Impala, my arms crossed against my chest to fend off any bit of the cold night even with my layers on. I could go inside the car but standing outside, right at the front of the car, felt more productive while waiting for the boys to finish their whole “skit” for information.

Dean would go in and antagonize the partner of the cop from the article which would inevitably fail. So Sam would be waiting there telling Dean, who he pretends to not know, to (in a lack of a better word) f- off so that Sam could weasel his way into questioning.

A very complicated plan for a bunch of dummies. I sigh again, my eyes closing in the progress, I try to force the tension out of my body, all the arguing infecting my usual good mood.

I open my eyes back up only to round the car and find it locked. My head falls forward, my chin touching my chest, of course Dean would lock his precious car. I glanced around me, barely anyone lingering outside except some people up against the bar smoking or leaving to go elsewhere, no one was looking so I gingerly tapped the handle, a swirl of purple mist leaving my fingertip until it slithered its way into the car and its mechanics. With a satisfying click the little lock pokes up, I grin as I pull open the door leaning in only to rustle through my bag and pull out my book.

Dean would have to forgive me, though my little trick did nothing to harm the car to begin with. I push down the lock, jabbing into my palm as I do so, closing the door behind me I make my way to the front of the car once more leaning against it as I open up my worn book of Little Women for the hundredth time. The pages had long begun to yellow though it only went as far as a light yellow, still the crisp smell of an old book wafted into my nose, serenity finding me.

Suddenly the bar door slams open, startling me for a moment after getting lost in the prospect of an escape. Dean quickly walks over to where I was waiting looking extra grumpy, his eyebrows scrunched together with his arms thrown out, “He pushed me so hard!” He nearly yells, his choice of words were childish at worst and yet it was very amusing. “Why are you reading that again?” He asks, suddenly pointing at my book.

“‘Cause I love it” I smile simply.

“Haven’t you read that a hundred times?” he asks, moving next to me, leaning against the car too.

“Give or take” I laugh lightly, “It’s one of my many comfort books.” I mark my spot before shutting the book. “I’m guessing your silly plan worked?” I ask him as he leans closer to me. He gives me that devilish smirk, “Not silly if it worked, sweetheart.”

Some time later Sam exits the bar, “Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy” Dean spits.

“I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting.” Sam bites back, just tension building on more tension. But there’s only so much the atmosphere or people can take before it blows up.

“Huh?”

“It’s like immersing yourself emotionally and psychologically with your character” I whisper before closing my book shut. But instead of clarity crossing over Dean's face he looks just as confused if not a little more. Sam sighs, “Never mind.”

“Okay so what’d he tell you?” I ask.

“So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him.” Sam explains. Basically nothing to suggest him suddenly committing a murder suicide.

“What about at home?” Dean shoots back.

“He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids.” Sam answers, I frown at the last part there was a whole life they could have lived.

“Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him.” Dean acknowledges.

“Well did anything happen as of supper recently that would even hint to a psychotic break?” I ask even though based on what we have it didn’t seem likely.

“No” Sam shakes his head, “Not that he mentioned at least.” I nod my head making a small mental note of that possibility, although unlikely, just in case.

“What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?” Dean questions.

“A lot.”

A loud horn blares from a nearby truck as Sam makes his way over the tall fence. With Dean slightly ahead of me I begin to climb the chain linked fence, I get a small jumping start clutching on to the cold fence. I shove my shoes into the little groves as I make my way up swiftly, being able to lift my legs high enough that I could make it to the top in about four moves. I balance myself on top of it before swinging my leg over it, I reposition myself to dangle slightly as my feet find purchase in the fence when about half way down I just decide to jump the rest of the way, landing on my feet in an almost crouched position.

The asylum itself didn’t look like it was falling apart but the overgrown bushes on the plot, the moss covering the building and the boarded up windows were a tell-tale tell sign enough that it was abandoned. The only thing keeping it from being entirely creepy was the early morning sun.

The door had no lock on it most likely from all the trespassing. But just as the door fell open an immediate musty smell hit my nose from all the trash covering the floor from beer bottles and cans to random bits of paper. Every surface of the walls was covered by either graffiti or mold, only small hints of the old green wallpaper left behind. “So apparently the cops chased the kids here....into the south wing.” Sam points to the sign hung over the door. The letters were mostly peeling, just another sign of the aging building.

“South wing, huh?” Dean breathes out, “Wait a second.” He pulls out his Dada journal from the inside pocket of his coat, flipping the pages until he found whatever he was looking for, “1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place.”

“So the South Wing seems to be the route of this all” I remark.

“But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?” Dean points out, looking up from the journal. Sam notes the rusted, broken chains hanging from the handle of the door, “Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years.”

“Yeah, to keep people out. Or to keep something in.” Dean comments.

I cringe, “Is it really necessary to say such ominous things?”

“What? It’s the truth” Dean shrugs and I roll my eyes.

“Are you guys done?” Sam asks looking at us impatiently

“Yeah yeah open the door” I say before quickly adding a mumble of, “I hope a rat jumps out at you”

Sam looks at me with a mix of being offended and being annoyed, “Why would you say that?”

“Sorry!” I say half meaning it, “It’s an abandoned building and all so you know…rats”

“Just” Dean starts, him being the annoyed one now, “Open the door.” Sam nods, carefully opening the rusted door with a creek revealing a long creepy hallway, but at last no rats scurry out. The long hall was somehow only slightly better than the entrance with the walls peeling of its paint, most of it replaced by mold which only increases as the hallway extends, if we get sick we’ll know why that’s for sure.

“Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel.” Dean jokes, lighting the mood as he pulls out his EMF reader, referencing the movie Six Sense. “Dude, enough.” Sam groans.

“I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on.” Dean says. Without missing a beat, Sam bites back, “I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell.”

“Anything going on with your EMF?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home.” Dean answers.

“Well, spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day.” Sam adds.

“Yeah, the freaks come out at night.” Dean comments.

The room falls quiet for a moment before Dean speaks up again, “Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?” Sam pushes his brother in response. “Oh definitely Jennifer Love Hewitt, I mean did you see her in Shortcut to Happiness ‘cause…wow” I answer before quickly adding, “No offense Sammy.” But Sam pushes me lightly too, a laugh bubbling up from my chest as I nearly knock into the moldy wall.

We enter a room that smells worse than the main entrance area, the culprit of the rotting flesh smell most likely being whatever pink goop is spilling out of a glass jar with liquid on a table in the far corner. This asylum was truly amazing at one-upping itself in terms of being horrible. The entire room is bad itself, all sorts of equipment they used on patients long ago when they had no clue what a mental illness really was or how to help people who struggled with it.

“God, they did such horrible things to these poor people” I remarked, stepping deeper into the room. The sight of a clearly used surgery table sending a shiver down my spine. Dean lets out a low whistle, “Electro-shock. Lobotomies…”

“Did you know JFK’s sister got a lobotomy done because she suffered from seizures and mood swings. But it only wound up leaving her permanently incapacitated and unable to properly speak, only goes to show how little they knew about all that stuff” I say, recalling a fact I remember reading about somewhere in an article.

“‘That one of your fun facts?” Dean inquires, clearly humoring me. I hum a “mhm” as I bend down slightly to look at a glass container filled with some sort of yellow liquid. I almost expect something equally as gross to be inside but there isn’t.

“So. Whaddaya think? Ghosts possessing people?” Dean asks out loud to no one in particular.

“Maybe. Or maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl hunting.” Sam answers, listing out examples of cases in which people claimed the devil had told them to do something bad and or possessed them. “Or Son of Sam, though that guy was just a basket case who admitted to lying about that demon bit” I add.

“Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining.” Dean quips in, always with his references. I look up from the vials of I don’t know what to see him grinning, a smile forming on my own face at his charming expression.

“Dean.” Sam calls out, gaining his brother's attention, “When are we going to talk about it?” Uneasiness slips its way into the cracks of the building, finding us. “Talk about what?” Dean asks back, but I have a feeling he knows what he’s talking about, it was clear as day. “About the fact Dad's not here.” Sam answers, already clearly annoyed. I straightened up, moving an inch closer to where they stood in the middle of the room in case I had to break up another fight. It hadn’t been anywhere close to a week from the last time I had to do so back in Kansas. “Oh. I see.” Dean replies, “How ’bout...never.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “I'm being serious, man. He sent us here…” Dean cuts in immediately, “So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later.” They moved closer to each other with each word they spat, up until they got close enough that they would be able to throw a punch if they decided to. “It doesn't matter what he wants.” Sam argues.

“See. That attitude? Right there?” Dean points at him, “That is why I always get the extra cookie.”

“Guys come on, you can argue this later let’s just finish this hunt” I sigh, crossing my arms across my chest. Sam glares at me as if to say “stay out of this”, I get why they’re upset but all this arguing gets us nowhere and it’s beginning to get annoying. Sam turns back to his brother, “Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about.”

“I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order.” Dean replies rather calmly. I don’t necessarily like John, knowing everything he put my boys through made it hard to. But he was their Dad and Dean wanted my help and so I will help find their Dad, even if I mostly agree with Sam. “So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?” Sam spits, and I almost hate the fact that I do agree with him.

I try to ignore their arguing, knowing they wouldn’t let up, it wasn’t the sort of argument where someone won. I open a drawer near me, cobwebs and multiple clippings from old patient files filling it. “Of course we do.” I hear Dean answer.

I carefully take the clippings out, trying to avoid the cobwebs. I look through the handful quickly everything either ripped off or eradicated except bits of the Doctor's name. “If you're done over there it seems the main evil doctor was ‘Sanford Ellicott’. We should probably research him and the south wing, see what we can find” I say plainly, hoping this could all be over with soon so at least they would stop fighting.

I keep my legs up on the soft chair, my knees to my chest as I read my book. Dean is sitting next to me, his arm resting on the back of my chair, his legs spread widely. From my peripheral vision I see him stare up at the ceiling clearly bored as we wait for his brother to be done in therapy, or really done questioning the apparent son of Dr.Ellicott.

He groans, the noise coming from deep in his chest. I put my bookmark back in my book, shutting it and putting it next to me. I put my arms on my propped up knees lying the side of my face down on them, my cheek squishing against my arm as I peer at Dean. The immediate thought of how good he looks with his head thrown back, a very light stubble gracing his face, his eyes looking greener with the light shining from behind us and—

I shove the thought far into the back of my mind, it wasn’t the time for this not at all. Not even a little. “‘You okay?” I ask softly.

He rolls his head to the side, eyeing me “Sammy’s taking too damn long. He’s already pissed me off.”

“He wouldn’t be taking long unless it was necessary” I answer, smiling at his demeanor. He groans again, “Do you wanna go get coffee? I saw a place a block away, Sam can text when he’s done.” I offer, hoping it would distract him from being so pissed off. He leans his head up, squinting at me, “Is this your attempt at curing my boredom?”

“That depends, is it working?” I squint back at him as I lift my head from my arms, laughter threatening to bubble from my lips.

“Yes” He nods, throwing his hand on my knee, “Let’s go” but he keeps his hand there, a giddy nervousness settling itself in my stomach.

“See I told you couples therapy works!” a hushed voice says catching our attention. I look up to see a red headed girl and her tan boyfriend walking past us without trying to hide their stares, “Wer— we aren’t—“ I try to say loud enough for them to hear but my voice doesn't reach them, “Actually” I sigh, my face feeling warm, “it’s probably best if they just go to therapy.”

I turn my head back towards Dean, finding him already looking at me with scrunched eyebrows, studying me as if he was contemplating something. I place my hand over his, only realizing then my hands were cold when compared to his warm ones, “Ready?” I ask softly. He clears his throat abruptly, nodding his head as he removes his hand from my knee and gets up. I make sure to grab my book as I follow suit, but we only reach the door when a familiar tall figure walks right past us.

Dean's body language changes, he turns back to me confused and annoyed before pushing through the door. Tension clearly already has made its home in his back and shoulders. “Dude! You were in there forever, we were about to leave you. What the hell were you talking about?” He calls out towards his brother, easily matching his pace.

“Just the hospital, you know.” Sam answers plainly. I jog to catch up to them and their stupid long legs, “What’d you find?” I ask.

“The south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane.” “Sounds cozy.” Dean remarks.

“Yeah. And one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other.” Sam elaborates.

“Any deaths? Dean follows up.

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott.”

“Did they…stuff him somewhere. I mean I feel like the place is only so big, right?” I hesitantly say.

Sam shrugs, “Cops scoured every inch of the place.”

“That's grim.” Dean murmurs just as we reach the Impala. “Yeah. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down” Sam says as he rounds the car.

“So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies.” Dean lists out.

“And a bunch of angry spirits.” Sam adds

“Cute.” I remark, sarcastically.

“Let's check out the hospital tonight.” Dean finishes, opening the car door.

I shine my flashlight over the asylum, naturally in the darkness of the night it was far creepier than it was only hours before. I follow behind the boys as they enter the dingy entrance, making sure I don’t hit into the duffle bag hanging from Dean's shoulder. “‘You guys getting anything?” I ask since they hold the equipment. Dean holds his EMF reader out in front of him, “Yeah, big time.”

“This place is orbing like crazy.” Sam adds, looking at the screen of the camera he holds. “Eww, why would you say it like that?” I cringe before mimicking the way he said “orbing.” Sam turns around slowly, glaring at me “How mature of you, Y/n” he deadpans. “Hey i’m just calling it as it is” I respond in defense. He glares at me one last time, turning back around and I hear him mimic what I said. I’m about to hit him on the arm when Dean starts speaking, he looks between us, ultimately choosing to ignore our childish behavior, “There’s probably multiple spirits out and about.”

Sam added “And if these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting…”

“We gotta find ’em and burn ’em.” Dean finishes, “Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit... is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer.” With that we keep walking until we hit the same room we were in the last time we were here, not having gone any further than that the first time around.

We walk a few feet further separating into three different rooms. I scanned my flashlight over the dark room, it had no windows though even if it did it would have been boarded up meaning no natural light to begin with had it been daytime. It was a relatively small room with more graffiti lining the originally white walls. I take a single step into the room, glass crunching underneath my shoe, I lift my foot immediately, kicking the broken glass bottle to the side.

I move further into the room, an overturned desk and a long gone broken lamp on the floor. Must have been a little office, I think to myself as I walk over to the desk finding a small knocked over filing cabinet. I nudged the metal cabinet with my foot, testing to see if anything wanted to make an appearance…like a rat.

When nothing comes from it I twirl my finger, an invisible force turning the cabinet right side up making it accessible. I pull each draw open, still cautious of any critters crawling out, hoping that there would be some hint as to where to look for the unfound bodies. “Y/n” I hear my name called out from behind me.

“Yeah?” I say turning around but there’s no one there. I shine my flashlight first on the doorway, only shadows dancing on the outskirts of my light. I purse my lips, a small pinch of fear forming itself in my heart. I move my flashlight slowly to shine in the corner, every hair on my body standing up. An old man with deep sunken eyes stands in the corner, his body permanently hunched over with his head tilted to the side. Countless needles stick out from his ghostly body, piercing through his hospital gown.

My mouth goes slack with an almost scream in warning to the boys. Still the man doesn't move, he just stares at me which is arguably worse than if he lunged at me, his mouth moves as if in an attempt to say something but his jaw is broken and the words come out in an extended noise. “b….b…b—“ The loud sound of a shotgun goes off just across from the man, my head snaps in the direction of the doorway, a breathless Dean standing there his gun still pointed at the man. “We thought something happened!” Sam half yells, standing right behind his brother.

“I literally haven’t moved from here” I respond, looking back at the corner where he stood. “You okay sweetheart?” Dean asks. I nod, “Yeah, I mean he didn’t do anything he was just—“

“Standing there” Sam finishes my sentence, “See I told you!”—he nudges his brother—“There’s something weird with the spirits here, they aren’t being aggressive-“ I cut him off this time, concern and confusion making my eyebrows scrunch together, “Wait you encountered a spirit?”

“You didn’t hear Sammy scream for us? Or the gun?” Dean asks. I look between them only being more confused, “No, what are you talking about?!” Except they don’t answer, only looking at each other and then back at me, eyes wide, “Alright something really is going on” Dean admits.

They begin to shuffle out of the room, and I follow, we walk aimlessly down the hall in thought when suddenly a noise like metal scraping against the floor comes from a room just steps away. Dean immediately raises his shotgun, carefully entering the room with Sam and I acting as the lightning. The room had a singular upturned bed facing the only window in the small room, a ragged sheet covering the bed barely concealing the top of a blonde head. We all share a look, bracing ourselves, Sam reaches out tipping over the bed causing it to come down with a loud crash. A young girl sits crouched on the floor, panting and grasping her chest.

“It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?” Dean asks the poor girl, moving his gun down and away from the girl. “Katherine. Kat.” She answers, peering up at us with her big brown eyes.

“What are you doing here!?” Sam half yells at her. I hit his arm, “You suck at comforting people” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear, nearly missing the glare I received in return. I move past Dean leaning down towards the girl, offering my hand to help her up. You can comfort someone without making them seem incapable. She eyes me carefully for a beat before shakily reaching up and taking my hand, “Um. My boyfriend, Gavin” she answers as I lift her up. “Is he here?” Dean asks.

She lets go of my hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears, “Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts” she explains, "I thought it was all just...you know. Pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and... “

“Alright.” Dean responds, pausing for a beat as if to go over the plan he most definitely already made, “Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend.”

“No! No. I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you.” Kat declares, looking frantically between us all.

“It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous.” Dean lectures, his voice getting increasingly louder. “That's why I gotta find him” she answers, her voice stern and straight regardless of being clearly shaken up. Dean meets Sam and then my eyes, “Alright, I guess we gunna split up then. Y/N with Sam, Kat with me. Let’s go.”

I lead the way out this time, Sam right next to me as we go down hallway after hallway. Each one seemingly more intricate than the last, if that was even possible. I hope Sam is keeping track of where we are because I’m already lost.

“Gavin?” I call out, peeking around each hallway corner. Is it possible he left? No he wouldn’t leave his girlfriend, right? Though the asylum is huge and he could be anywhere—“Y/N! Over here!” Sam calls out from down the hallway to my left. I swirl around heading towards him, crouched down near a rouge hospital bed, I hear him speak as I approach “Hey, Gavin. It's okay, I’m here to help.”

“Who are you?” He responds, fixing his brown hair as he pushes himself away from Sam knocking into the wall behind him in the process. “My name is Sam, that’s Y/N” he gestures towards me, “Uh, we found your girlfriend.”

“Kat?” He asks his brown eyes widening, he gets up revealing his height. He isn't as tall as Sam, probably closer to Dean's height then anything but he was certainly taller then me and his girlfriend. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. She's worried about you. Are you okay?” Sam responds.

“I was running. I think I fell.” He lifts his hand to the side of his head, his corduroy jacket moving with him. “What were you running from?” I ask.

“There was...there was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up.”

“Okay listen, did this girl... did she try and hurt you?” Sam follows up, asking carefully. “What? No, she...uh…”

“She what?” Sam asks, impatience on the tip of his tongue.

“She...kissed me.”

…The hall falls silent, neither of us expecting that to be his answer. I’ve never heard of a case in which someone was kissed by a ghost. I mean that’s just disgusting and horrifying, no amount of mouthwash can fix that…or therapy. “Uh...um...but...but she didn't hurt you, physically?” Sam finally says.

“Dude! She kissed me. I'm scarred for life!” Gavin yells, his eyes widening again. “Well, trust me, it could have been worse.” Sam replies, again not much on the comforting side. Plus I feel like I’d rather be thrown ten feet then kissed by a ghost. “I’m sorry we have to pressure you like this now after you just experienced that but is there anything else you remember?” I ask softly.

“She uh...actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear.” He answers shyly, almost embarrassed by all this. “What?” Sam shoots back.

“I don't know. I ran like hell.” He answers truthfully.

“That’s the third encounter without an attack” Sam thinks out loud. Gavin glares at him sharply, “Oh…Um…besides the…Uh…kissing” Sam adds.

“Can we really trust that the South Wing really did have violent patients? I mean the workers here aren’t exactly the most reliable considering everything they’ve done to these poor people” I mention.

“She’s got a point” Gavin intervenes. We both look at him, “Um yeah. But what if they were trying to tell us something?” Sam says.

“You mean like some hint as to where uh…” I look over at Gavin knowing I can’t exactly say a rotting body somewhere, “you know is” I mumble looking back at Sam. “Yeah” he answers just as a loud scream rings out from afar. We all share a look of confusion and worry, “That sounds like Kat!” Gavin says. Not waiting a second later we go off running in the direction of the screaming, just about everything you're not supposed to do.

Just down the hall Dean is banging on a huge metal door with a pipe. “What’s going on?” Sam asks just as we approach.

“She's inside with one of them.” He answers his breath a little labored. Kay screams again, “Help me!!”

“Kat!” Gavin yells back banging on the door.

“Get me outta here!” She shouts.

I hide my hand behind my hip making sure to look down, to avoid having to explain anything to Gavin later. With my concealed hand I reached it over to the metal door, my fingertips barely brushing the cold exterior before a hand wrapped around my wrist pulling it forth. “Wait” Sam said sternly, dropping my wrist. I turn my head to look at Dean with questioning eyes as if he would have a reason why his brother stopped me. But when I look at him he’s looking between my wrist and his brother, his eyes scrunched in offense and what may look like anger, upset he stopped me, because doing so might be risking an innocent girl's life.

“Kat, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down.” Sam commands, talking to Kat through the door. He must be thinking back to what we said before. “She's gotta what?!” Dean yells, astonished.

“I have to what?!” Kat shouts back.

“These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate.” Sam explains, indeed referencing what we were discussing before I just hope he’s right, “You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it.”

“You face it!” Kat snaps back. A smile threatening to show on my lips. “No! It's the only way to get out of there” Sam insists.

“No!” Kat screams.

“Sam, come on let me get her out” I say quietly hoping only those who know about my abilities can hear me. “No” He says towards me before directing his voice towards the door, “Look at it, come on. You can do it.”

She seems to listen to him, no more screams against his plan. We all wait impatiently, the air thick with anxiety, if this doesn’t work then we caused a very avoidable death. “Kat?” Gavin calls out.

“Man, I hope you're right about this.” Dean grumbles.

“Yeah, me too” Sam nods.

“No offense Sammy, but you should have voiced your concern before” I bite, crossing my arms across my chest.

Suddenly the door creaks open slowly, Kat peeking out. Her eyes are wide and blank, clearly startled and traumatized. “Oh, Kat” Gavin murmurs, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend.

Sam maneuvers himself around them, opening the large door further to get past them into the room. He comes back out not even a minute later shaking his head, whatever spirit was in there isn’t anymore.

“One thirty-seven.” Kay says suddenly, wiping away her teary eyes.

“Sorry?” Dean looks at her, puzzled.

“It whispered in my ear. 137.” She clarified.

“Room number.” The boys and I said in sync, our eyes wide in clarity.

“Jinx” I say quickly pointing towards the boys. Dean groans, “You always win.”

I beam, looking up at him, “You just always forget.”

“Yeah cause he’s actually focused on the hunt” Sam quipped, annoyed. “Hey I am foc-“ I try to defend only getting cut off by Sam nudging Dean and I down the hall out of hearing reach throwing a “Excuse us” to the two teens.

“Alright. So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone…” Sam starts getting his sentence finished by his brother, “Then what are they trying to do?”

“Maybe they're helping us out” I shrug, “Giving us hints?”

“I guess we'll find out.” Dean huffs.

“Alright.” Sam confirms, nothing more to be said.

Dean separates from our little huddle calling out to the kids waiting on us, “So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?”

“That's an understatement.” Kat remarks.

“Okay.” He turns back to us, “Sam you get them outta here. Y/N were going to go find room 137.”

“Isn’t it best that I go with Sam?, make sure they can get out” I ask, not to say that I don’t want to go with Dean but still trying to be reasonable.

“If the spirits suddenly decide to get rowdy and gang up on me like they did Doc, I’d want you on my side” Dean answers, making a motion with his hands weirdly that I suppose is meant to represent my abilities. “Ok fair enough” I shrug, not needing any more convincing. Sam moves away towards Kat and Gavin. Dean and I waited until they were out of sight, getting led by Sam, before moving to find room 137.

We only move a few feet when I notice the lack of something in Dean's hand, “What happened to your flashlight?” I ask. He pulls back the side of his grayish-blue button down jacket exposing the thick flashlight tucked into his jeans, “Died jus’ before Kat got dragged into that room” he explains. I reluctantly drag my eyes back up to his face, a flashlight held in his jeans shouldn't have been hot, I give him a single awkward nod before forcing my eyes back in front of me.

“I think it’s down this way” He nudges my arm just as we get to the end of the long hallway, pointing left. I point my flashlight in that direction, the light illuminating the continuous mess of the asylum, “How do you know?” I ask. He shrugs, “Intuition.” I followed him down the hall even under the weak assumption, there were hardly any sign indicators and if there were they were unreadable due to destruction or graffiti.

I give him a look as we walk the hall, not finding the room. “I meant the next one over” he says with a stupid smile on his face. “Oh yeah of course” I nod, playing into whatever you want to call this.

He mumbles the room number underneath his breath, an excited-nervous energy surrounding him as we approach the supposed right hallway. It was adorable.

“Look who was right.” He says, his voice coming from behind me. I turn towards him an even bigger smile on his face, I lift my flashlight to shine where the number would be. “Let’s just hope the ghost wasn’t tricking us” I huff.

He goes to push the door open only to find it stuck on something, he grunts putting more of his body weight on the door until it’s open enough to let us through. The room is a mess (but what else is new for this place), filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls stained with something that I think I’d rather not know. I shine the flashlight around going over to one of the filing cabinets opening it to find manila folders, I flick through them. More patient files but nothing of use as of now.

I whirl around to find Dean crouched down in the back of the room, prying off a wooden panel. He finally gets it off with a loud cracking noise, “This is why I get paid the big bucks.” he murmurs, the only indication that he found something. “You don’t get paid any bucks” I responded.

He turns his head slowly to me in offense holding up a deteriorating satchel in one hand and a mess of papers in the other. He gets up handing me the stack of papers and with his foot drags up a nearby chair scooting it close for me before dragging up one for himself. I go through my stack, a bunch of drawn images of medical instruments like lobotomy pick, straight jackets and cuffs, and other drawings with no labels but incredibly detailed writing and drawings that were nothing more than torture. “This feels like a messed up book club” I comment.

“Yeah check this out. Dr. here believed that provoking extreme anger would be therapeutic.” He explains, “Seems like all he ever did was work on this theory.”

“I think I read a research paper from 2002 on a similar idea called catharsis” I explain, “It basically means venting out negative emotions, especially anger. However researchers found it did the opposite and more likely increased aggression. But I guess in this case he was forcing it rather than the patients venting out anger they had from past traumas or anything of the sort.”

I know he is listening to my rant, his eyes moving up from the book to look at me before going back to the journal, his eyes scrunched in concern at what he read, “All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy.”

I nearly laugh when a sudden creak comes from the hall, I look to Dean to find him with just as a confused face as mine. He had heard it too. He makes a “give me” motion so I hand over the papers, he puts them and the journal he read from back in the satchel. Without saying anything I knew he was moving us to check up on Sammy.

We manage our way back to the room Kat got locked into, but from there it winds up being a maze as to where Sammy could be. Lefts and rights and accidentally going in large circles. “Alright one more hallway and then we’re calling him” I plead, getting frustrated at this stupid musty asylum. “Deal” Dean nods.

The floor was particularly bad in this hall, each step followed by a creak each one louder then the next. Just as we reach the end of the hallway and turn right, for a split second, Kat stands there shotgun raised at us, her finger on the trigger. She shoots. Dean throws himself backwards, his arm going out right in front of me pushing me back against the corner wall out of the way from danger. Both of us were up against the wall next to each other, his arm just beneath my breasts holding me in place. A large puff of white smoke looking substance flies out from the wall, bits of the wall crumbling to the floor just by Dean's shoulder opposite to the one near me. Acting as the only signs of where the bullet had gone.

Our labored breaths nearly matched each other's, chests heaving. His arm remains where it is even when no more shots ring out, he yells, “Damn it, damn it, don’t shoot! It's us!!”

“Sorry! Sorry.” Kat meekly cries out.

“Jesus Chri-“ I peered around Dean's body at the shot, she would have killed us. Impressive. I bring a shaky hand up to the arm that still held me, he drops his arm allowing me to move past him and round the corner to the people who nearly ended us.

“What are you still doing here?! You're supposed to be gone! Also, why are you good with a gun?!” I exclaim. Dean immediately adding, “Where’s Sam?” Our rushed voices combining for a melody of pressured questions.

“He went to the basement. You called him.” Gavin answers, pointing to Dean. “I didn't call anybody.” Dean replies, looking at me confused I shrug not having any idea myself.

“His cell phone rang. He said it was you.” Kat elaborates.

“Basement, huh?” Dean hums before turning to me, “I’m gonna go to Sam, get them out of here.”

“Wait no I should come with you” I say.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart, just get them out of here” He orders, but his voice is soft where it should be commanding. He takes the gun from Kat and before I can say anything more he’s running off.

I turn towards the door, trying to think of the least suspicious way possible to open the door. A chain with a lock lies on the floor just in front of my feet. It must not just be a locked door, perhaps it is the spirits here keeping it closed. I pull on the door handle letting my powers seep into the large door willing it open. It opens with another pull, having to use a lot of strength to open the old door. “Alright let’s go” I say, turning to the two behind me. They look at me with a mix of shock and confusion, “How di-“ Gavin asks before I cut him off, “It was just jammed” I lie.

I follow them down the steps and watch them climb over the fence. I wait until I see them physically get into the car, both kids looking back almost hesitant to leave us behind. But I have no time to help with their guilty conscience, I turn back toward the building immediately running up the steps and back into the asylum. I curse not knowing which way Dean exactly went or where the hell the basement was let alone where a staircase was.

In the dim, haunting corridors of the abandoned asylum, panic pulses through me like a heartbeat. The suffocating air clings to my skin as I navigate the labyrinth that is this building. Every step feels like a hesitant dance with the unknown. I try to suppress the fear clawing at my throat, envisioning worst-case scenarios involving Sam and Dean. Could they be hurt, trapped, dead? My thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, one that feels too overwhelming to control as pathetic as it sounds and feels.

Desperation fuels my movements as I sprint down seemingly endless hallways, each one a haunting replica of the last. It's a macabre maze, and my heart races with the urgency of finding the elusive staircase leading to the basement.

As I turn another corner, the harsh silence amplifies the echoes of my footsteps. "Sam! Dean!" I call out, my voice swallowed by the oppressive stillness. The only response is the distant moan of the decaying building. With determination fueling my every step, I press forward, driven by the desperate need to uncover the secrets hidden below. The dim light casts distorted shadows on peeling wallpaper, playing tricks on my eyes. Yet, I press on, the image of the elusive staircase driving me forward, my breath a rhythm of fear and determination.

As if the old building heard my pleas I spot a door just at the end of the hall, a medal bar for the handle and if it isn’t my eyes playing tricks on me then a small sign signifying a person walking up stairs lies on the small window on the door. I all but ran over, the thing I needed most lying right there. As I push open the door, anticipation and anxiety rests behind my rib cage, a reminder that finding the door wasn’t enough. I still needed to find them.

However, as the door creaks open, my heart sinks. Before me lies a staircase, but it ascends rather than descending. Everything that I do not need. I was being mocked. The staircase leading upward into the unknown when my every instinct demands a descent into the depths below.

I stand at the threshold, contemplating my next move. Panic threatens to resurface, but I force a deep breath, I know what I must do even when it is foreign to me. I had not trained in it, hadn’t studied it enough, so much of me was like that. So many abilities I could have and use but always dared to leave untouched, this being one of them. I knew only how to use it in such short distances, and only in spaces that I could see. Not like this.

But I’m afraid and desperate enough. I know the boys are very capable of taking care of themselves, yet an unmistakable fear lives behind my rib cage for those I love, a fear of losing them. I close my eyes. This staircase had to be close enough. My fear had to be enough. I force another deep breath, bracing my feet beneath me. I could picture the room around me even with my eyes sealed, focusing on how the walls stretched above me in my mind's eye.

I had not seen the basement, hadn’t a single idea what it even began to look like. Yet still I force my perception down, below the concrete laying underneath my shoes. But more than that I needed to find them, I try my best to picture them specifically even in an unknown location. The air seems to ripple around me, reality folding over itself.

I open my eyes, no longer in the stairwell but presumably in the basement. The only indication I’ve gone to the right place is the boy's only feet in front of me. What should be a triumphant moment is crushed under the scene in front of me.

Dean is on his back splayed across the floor, broken wall beneath him the concrete powder sticking to his clothes. Sam is standing over him, shotgun pointed down at his brother, I can not see his full face from here but I can see it is etched in anger. “Sam!” I yell, catching his attention. He turns to me, his face scrunched in disgust, he does not lower the gun.

“What the hell is hap-“ I try to ask but the gun goes off with a loud bang. Suddenly I’m in front of him, the bullets hitting the hall that laid behind me when I stood in the doorway. I teleported out of danger without a second's thought, I make a mental note for later as I punch Sammy square in the face, my knuckles hitting against his sharp jaw.

He stumbles back a few feet, my knuckles burn, he will have to forgive me later. I do not want to hurt him but I do need to stop him. I mumble a sorry, hooking my leg behind his, hitting into the back of his knee with my foot forcing his legs to collapse beneath him knocking him to his knees. I use his shock as leverage, easily pulling the gun from his hands, I point the gun at him even though I do not want to.

Dean groans still on the ground, only having leaned up from his position. Sam holds his hands up, “Shoot me” he spits. He was taunting me, testing me. “I have no need to” I answer calmly. He was possessed or influenced by the doctor here, this wasn’t really him, I knew that.

I hear Dean get up, panting and making small noises of pain. I look over at him from the corner of my eye, watching him hold just below his chest in pain, “You okay there?” I ask, earning a grumbled “yeah”. Dean drags himself to the front of the room where he must have dropped the duffle bag he was carrying.

In the corner of my eye I see Sam try to lunge towards me, I snap my attention back to him “Hey”,I warn, “Stop.” He looked even more pissed, his mouth twitching with words he wanted to say, “You think protecting him is gonna make him fall in love with you?” He says quietly. I check behind me but Dean makes no indication that he heard, I know it’s not really him speaking but the words still sting. “I’m not that diluted” I answered, turning back to him.

“You follow him around like a lost puppy, it’s pathetic” He laughs, “Really, you follow us around. But we don’t need you, we’d be better off without you. All you do is take up space.” The words bite into my skin, my heart suddenly feeling heavy. Losing my firm stance he grasps onto my ankle pulling it towards him sharply, knocking me on my ass hard. He punches me, his fist connecting with my nose, my eyes tearing up on its own accord with a harsh throbbing. He snatches the gun back when I hear movement towards us, without looking I shout back “I can take him, just find the body!”

Sam straddles my lap, his knees pinning my hands to the floor with an incredible amount of pain, and I can not pull my hands free. He grabs my chin roughly forcing my gaze on him, my neck leaning up at a weird angle, “You feel the need to be with us, it’s the only thing that fills the gap of being left behind your whole life.”

Hurt and anger burn my eyes. I move my face out of his hold and he lets me, I lean my head back before slamming it into his. The resounding clash of our heads echoed through the air, an abrupt collision that sent shockwaves of discomfort rippling through my skull. He loses slight balance, his knees leave my hands the feeling rushing back into them but I do not leave time for feelings of victory. I shove him back, using more force than I probably should have.

I stand up swiftly, stumbling over myself slightly, my head throbbing severely. “You” I point, breathing heavily, “Have a hard head.” He tries to reach for the gun but I kick it out of reach before he’s able to.

I knew Dean was close by even with the room being so large and divided, but I didn’t know how close he was to finishing up. There was a strong sense of dread in my stomach, I don’t want to fight anymore, maybe curl up into a ball and contemplate life but not fight. “Please, stay down” I beg, my eyes still teary from a mix of a reaction to the pain and just being upset.

He leans up, that horrible anger still etched on his face. I hold my hand up at him, extending my force outwards pinning him down with an invisible force. He struggles against it, his arms shaking. I grit my teeth, disgust tangling itself in my gut. Yes this was out of self defense and necessity but this wasn’t me. He was my friend, to restrain him in such a way…with my abilities…when I’m meant to help people.

I force my face away, a lump tight in my throat when I catch my reflection on a piece of broken glass in the far edge of the room. It was if I was being teased by the devil himself, staring at a reflection I wasn’t sure I even recognized. My eyes were fierce yet brimmed with tears, my pupils glowing purple. Where did this lie in morality? It felt wrong. So disgustingly wrong even if it was meant to be helpful.

Only a little longer, only until the remains were burnt and Sam was fine. “Y/N”

“Y/N!” He begs.

I turned my head back to him, the anger previously on his face melted away. I immediately release my hold on him, dropping my hand down swiftly. For a moment there it seemed fear had crossed his eyes, I took a step back lifting my hand to my forehead, a thin line of sweat wetting my face. My chest heaves, complete overwhelm filling my senses. I feel it in my bones this need to move, to get out. It had not taken anything out of me to hold him down, and that is what scared me the most.

Dean shuffles back into view, coming over and helping this brother up. When had he walked over here? I take another step back, their voices meshing together in a blob of incoherent sounds. A strong familiar hand grasps my upper arm, I look up at Dean, his eyes scrunched together in concern. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, but his voice seems so far away. I look over at Sam, a bruise already forming on his jaw a reminder of what I had done. I find no fear in his eyes any longer, not even as he rubs at the forming mark. I nod absent-mindedly at Dean's question, though it wasn’t true and he had known that too.

He gives my arm a firm squeeze before sliding it down slowly to my hand, intertwining our fingers together. I look up at him again, but his face is turned away already walking towards the duffel bag bringing me along with him. He doesn't say anything about holding my hand, not even as he leans down to the bag swinging it over the shoulder that is opposite to where I stand.

He leads the way out of the basement, Sam following behind us silently. I let him lead me, just staring down at our intertwined hands. His sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, ‘must have done that when he left us before. Holding hands wasn’t totally uncommon for us and we both happened to be touchy people, even so butterflies danced in my stomach.

When we finally reached the exit, the early morning sun had begun to shine through the clouds. Every one of our movements was done in silence, he let go of my hand only until we climbed back over the fence. The second both our feet had hit the ground he claimed it once more.

Just a short distance away Kat and Gavin lean against their car, my eyes scrunch in confusion. I thought they left. “What are you guys still doing here?” I call out from a few feet away. They analyze us, probably noticing the clear sign of a fight and who I’m holding hands with but I do not let go of his hand, and he makes no move to do so either. “We wanted to make sure you got out” Kat answers, crossing her arms across her chest, “And to say thank you.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gavin adds in.

“No more haunted asylums, okay?” Dean replies. They nod and get in the car, this time starting it up.

“Hey, guys?” Sam says quietly as we begin to walk towards the Impala. He gets in front of us, walking backwards so we couldn’t ignore him, “I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there.”

I frown, not wanting to be reminded of something that happened only minutes ago. “You remember all that?” Dean scuffs.

“Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it.” He says making sure he directs it at both of us.

“You must believe it on some subconscious level…right?” I say. I do not mean to come off harsh or make him feel worse about himself, but he had to feel that way on some level. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and I suddenly feel bad for what I said, “No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?” He insists.

Reaching the Impala Dean unlocks the car, opening my door with his free hand but I make no moves of getting in just yet. He lets go of my hand, moving to the back of the car to throw in the duffel before rounding the rest of the car to the driver seat. Just before he gets in he answers his brother, venom clear on his tongue, “No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.” He slams the car door behind him.

I look over at Sam, total defeat written all over his face. I move past the car door moving right in front of Sam, he looked down at me expectantly. I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him. We will go to a motel and sleep the night off, and I don’t want to go to bed upset. His initial surprise wears off and he hugs me back, I pull away slightly. “You said mean things and I know you're sorry, but they still hurt… I’m not mad at you for thinking like that, I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt us.” I say softly, I don’t like being angry at someone or holding grudges.

His eyes are filled with desperate sorrow as he says, “I’m sorry.” He hugs me tightly adding a quiet, “thank you.” And I knew he had meant for just talking to him about it even if it was only a little and for not hating him. We pull away from each other, and he ruffles my hair like an annoying brother before getting in the Impala. I move past the open door again, this time getting in.

Even after a nice hot shower and being all cozied up in the motel bed, sleep still could not find me. I groan frustrated, switching positions for the upteenth time, glad that I had my own room so as to not wake anyone.

I shift again, moving onto my back, the memories of what happened earlier playing through my head on repeat. Whether Sam meant it or not he was right. They didn’t need me, they were more than capable by themselves. Maybe I should go back home.

I could call Adeline, ask her if she could pick me up from the airport and take me home. The plane ride wouldn’t be so bad, I just have to figure out how to get to the airport with no car of my own. But that thought upset me more. I’d go home and worry over the boys excessively, where they were, how they were doing, if they were safe or even alive, if they found their dad. Maybe I was a burden to them.

God. And what I did to Sam? To use my powers like that?! Though I guess before the whole fight the teleporting was quite impressive especially because I am not skilled in that.

I want to be the best, but I'm afraid of what that would mean. What I would become.

I shift again, my feet tangling under the heavy covers. I sit up letting the blankets fall to my waist, and without thinking I pick up my phone dialing in her number. I had no idea what time it was in New York City but I knew she didn’t care about that sort of thing, she would pick up regardless of time or what she was doing. The phone barely gets to ring for a third time when she answers, “Hey Addie…”

[acheel-and-cat]

Hi, I’m really scared to post this, but this is a Monty vampire au I’m working on. This was inspired by this from @eat-the-lemons. This only a part one, I’m hoping to make this a three part but who knows? Shoutout to my epic proofreader, @parathepineapple. Tell me what you think I love feedback!

Monty woke up. He felt… different. There was no voice in the back of his head compelling him to do things and he felt heavier. I’m human again! He sat up and checked his surroundings. He appeared to be in Esther’s house, it was nighttime, his mouth hurt, and he was hungry. He got up and slowly crossed the house to the kitchen, still getting used to having human limbs again. Once he got to the refrigerator, he grabbed some grapes for a snack. He popped one in his mouth and almost puked. Jeez, that tastes awful! Why does it taste so bad? He tried another but he also had to spit it out. He tried to eat other foods but everything made him feel sick. He decided to take a walk to try and find something to eat. He walked around Port Townsend for a bit, trying to find something even remotely appetizing. The best he got was the spike in hunger when passing the blown up butcher shop. He could smell the blood from the meat and his stomach growled. Okay, well that’s not normal. He started walking back towards Esther’s house as the sun started rising. It hurt. Why did it hurt? It was the sun, it should not hurt. Monty had to stop four times under a shady tree just to catch a break. When he finally made it back, he was horribly tired. He decided he needed help with this odd illness and then went to bed. Since he was no longer a crow, Monty had to travel the human way to London. Luckily he knew where Esther had kept her emergency money. It took him awhile, but he did manage to find their office. He hoped Charles answered the door, prepared what he was going to say, and rang the doorbell. He heard a muffled voice coming towards the door.

“Monty?” came the surprised voice of Crystal.

“Um, hi. I, uh, I have a problem. A real one this time,” he stammered out, scared of her reaction.

“Hey Charles,” she called behind her, “we’ve got a birdie who needs help!”

Charles came over to the door, and with his ever present smile, and lead him into the Dead Boy Detectives office. Monty was surprised at how homey it was. Edwin was sitting at the main desk and Charles lead him to sit in a chair across from him. Charles went to stand next to Edwin and Crystal sat on the couch on the right.

“Monty. You have a case for us?” Edwin asked, looking at him curiously.

“Listen, I’m not connected to Esther anymore, this is an actual thing,” he said, hoping they would take his case.

“Go on then mate.” Charles gave him a reassuring smile.

“Well after Esther was dragged away, I woke up human again. But I don’t think I’m quite human. I haven’t eaten anything since I woke up, everything tastes horrible, except blood smells really good. I can’t be in the sun because it hurts, and I get really tired during the day,” he told the detectives, hoping they could help.

“Well, that is odd. Charles? Crystal? What do we say?” Edwin asked his colleagues.

“We don’t have anything else going on, I’d say let’s go for it,” Charles told the room. Crystal nodded at him, “Let’s figure out what’s up with you,” she got up and moved to the main desk.

“This is definitely a supernatural problem,” Edwin told Monty, “Charles can you grab Dichotomous Key for the Supernatural? It is the large forest green book on the top shelf.”

“Sure mate,” Charles said, grabbing the book, “jeez, this thing is heavy!” He brought the book over and set it on the table with a thump. Edwin cracked open the cover and began going through the list.

[lovelylotusf1]

ohh that prompt game seems fun!!! how about 23/9 for max!!

Thank you for the lovely prompt anon <3 I focused a bit more on 9, but there's still some of prompt 23 - loss of abilities/skills in there. You didn't specify a ship, so I left it a bit ambiguous. But, it definitely has Max/Oscar vibes! Prompt list for if you want me to put drivers into Situations :D

Sleep deprivation

“A question for Max. What happened in turn 9 today?”

“I don't know, you fucking tell me.”

Max knows this single moment will be clipped to hell and back. He knows that PR will chew him out for it, and that it will cause the reporters to jump on him like sharks smelling blood. But he doesn't fucking care. Not when the incessant flashing of cameras makes his head swim and the endless stream of chatter from the interviewers melts together into a noise that sounds like he's developing god damn tinnitus.

There's a nervous giggle to his right, but when he turns his head he doesn't know where exactly it came from. Oscar's sitting next to him, and there's Lando, too, and since when are their faces so blurry? Max squints, trying to determine the exact point where they're blurring together into a kind of super McLaren driver. The thought makes him snort.

“It seems like you lost control of the car there for a second,” the interviewer rambles on, but Max is busy blinking the world back into focus. “Was it driver error that caused you to almost hit the barriers there?”

Oh wait, Lando and Oscar aren’t melting. Lando's just leaning into Oscar like he doesn't know about the concept of personal space. All gooey and smiley and why does that smile look a bit pained?

Suddenly, there's a foot nudging against his, and Max remembers that he needs to answer something.

“That question is stupid, so I won't answer it. I finished third, didn't I?”

Finishing P3 is embarrassing, he doesn’t need the question that will undoubtedly come next to tell him that. It'll probably be about whether he's okay with that place or if he's lost his ambition. About the multiple rookie mistakes he made throughout the race. The trip through the gravel. Only the pitstop strategy and a lucky safety car saved him from being kicked down to the cold and unforgiving fourth place.

For someone else, it might be passable. Not for Max. Never for Max.

Someone else shouts out another question. Max stares into the vague direction of it until Oscar picks up the microphone and answers something that doesn’t manage to go through the fog of his brain.

The rest of the post-race interview is torture, and by the end of it, his head is pounding and he's trying to hold back shivers that are probably from a fever he's developing. Great. Simply lovely.

When he's on his way to get to his motorhome, a hand on his shoulder stops him. “You were really weird today.” It’s Oscar’s voice. Good. Max couldn't stand anyone else right now. “Are you okay?”

Max lets himself melt into the touch a little. Allows himself the simple comfort of someone else's warmth. “I think I fucking fell ill,” he spits out. “I slept a total of three hours between cold shivers and not being able to breathe through my nose.”

The hand on his shoulder tightens. It’s Oscar's tell that he's really angry about something but doesn't want to show it directly on his face. Max is a little proud of himself, proud that he remembers that tiny detail even when his brain feels like a soapbox driven by a snail instead of the usual pace of the RB19.

“Okay, that's totally fine. Racing while sick is nice. Cool that you did that.” Max might be dead tired, but he can still hear the sarcasm dripping from Oscar’s words. “Let's get you to bed.”

“So forward. I thought that you needed to ask Lando for permission to do that with other people. Or you already asked, of course.”

Oscar laughs, that high-pitched one he sometimes lets out when someone surprises him. His arm wraps around Max's waist, guides him the last couple of steps to the door of his motorhome and beyond it. Huh. Max hasn’t even noticed that they've been walking towards his bedroom.

“I really think you need to sleep a bit. I'll stay if you need something.”

Oscar firmly but gently pushes him onto the bed. And Max lets him do it without objections. A warm feeling spreading through his body as he closes his eyes with a content sigh.

People who might be interested in Max/Oscar: @wisteriagoesvroom @maaxverstappen

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 9]

The Gang finally figures out what Eletha's problem is.

Had this one written out for a while. Features a lot of my triggers because I'm fucking insane. Sometimes you just wanna punish yourself, right? That's normal?

CW: General Mental Illness issues, Mentions of past abuse and suicidal ideation, Also the Super Secret Weird Trigger

(Prev)[Part 8] (Next)[Part 10] [Master Post]

No one saw Eletha leave her tent for two days while they braved the shadow curse and all its challenges. Astarion would’ve stayed upset about this if he wasn’t excited about Raphael’s offer of help. Gale told him that they should wait and see before making any deals with devils and now Astarion was giving him the cold shoulder.

Worried and sick of the mood in camp, Gale convinced Bonnet to let him into her mistress’s tent. There he found her in a curious state: not quite elven trance, but not quite conscious either. Tentatively, he shook her shoulder, but she didn’t rouse. Clenched in her hand was a tattered scrap of cloth, perhaps a remnant of some once-fine robe or doublet.

“Pardon me,” he whispered as he decided his next course of action. Reaching out with both magic and the tadpole, he murmured softly, “Do let me know if I’m intruding.”

Something connected and his mind was transported to someplace else. The ground was just a shade different from the sky, creating a sense of boundless emptiness. Here he found Eletha sitting on the edge of- Well, it was a rather large hole with no discernable sides or bottom, just complete darkness.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any tea or cake,” she told him listlessly, eyes not leaving the hole. Her skin was covered in scratches and her clothes were torn. “Poor reception for a friend. Wizard friend.”

“May I… sit?” Gale asked hesitantly, peering into the hole only to be met with nothing. Eletha nodded and he sat down beside her. “Is this what troubles you?”

“Mm. I’m losing it, aren’t I? Out there.” She didn’t wait for his answer. It was rather obvious that if he was here, he felt that she was in danger. In a haunting sing-song voice she went on, “Down, down, down. Spiraling down. Cracked like an egg, to hatch or to eat? The dry leaves sound lovely, under our feet.”

Well that’s concerning, Gale thought to himself. “What is in the hole?”

“Something old. Something bad. Lorelai.”

“Ah, your childhood name, yes?”

“Bad, evil, mean old Lorelai,” she said by way of answer, using the tone of a child talking about a monster in a book or a hated schoolmarm. Then darkly, like that hated schoolmarm, she added, “Little Lorelai doesn’t know any better.”

“You know, I was quite the scamp back in my day too. That’s how I met Tara. My parents denied me a kitten, so I summoned a tressym instead,” he explained with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eyes. He went on about other ‘naughty’ things he did as a child, such as summoning mephits or destroying things with errant magic. He felt that if he could get her to accept that making trouble as a child was a normal part of growing up, then she might begin to forgive herself for whatever she’d done.

Gale’s happy memories only served to weaken the edge of the hole further, bits breaking off every now and then. While speaking about his mother, how much he loved her, the hole suddenly emitted a disturbing sound. A wail mixed with crying, piercing and discordant. Gale stopped his story, training his senses to make heads or tails of what was happening. The wail faded as voices rose in its stead. Elven voices, melodic and refined, called out “Lorelai.”

“Lorelai, you are too young to make such decisions,” Eletha said in Elvish in a man’s voice. It sounded stern and agitated, almost hostile. “Non Moverē.”

She recited the incantation for a Hold Person spell with perfect precision, but it was only an echo of a memory. Whoever had cast it was highly skilled.

“You must set aside your feelings for the good of us all. I did not raise you to be a brat, A’Sum. This is a blessing,” she said in a woman’s voice. It was sharp and disappointed. This voice called upon the Weave to calm her daughter’s emotions.

“If you cannot behave, then we will make you behave, my blood or not,” a second man’s voice said through Eletha’s lips. It snarled, full of revulsion. “Impero tibi.”

I command you, from the tongue of an expert spellcaster. Young and inexperienced, Eletha would have been unable to resist.

“I… I think I understand,” Gale said after waiting a moment for her to continue. “It will be okay. You have us now. We won’t let that happen.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” she said in her own voice, streaked with pain. “It’s always been here. It’s not going away this time.”

“What-”

A monstrous black claw shot out of the black hole. Gale threw himself back, only to fall out of Eletha’s tent.

“What in the hells was that about?” Karlach asked, looking down at him with confusion.

“I was trying to help,” he answered, trying to rub the befuddlement out of his head.

“MmMmh, breakfast?” Eletha asked blearily, poking her head out of the tent flap. “Can I have eggs?”

“No, Lethi, go back to sleep,” Karlach told her, pushing her friend back into the tent when she appeared to be asleep sitting up.

“So. What hot gossip did you two discuss?” Astarion purred as he approached Gale’s tent, where the wizard was currently writing in his journal. Despite his attempts to seem otherwise, it was clear that the question came from a place of concern.

“Do you remember anything of your families?” Astarion glared at him.

“No. All I know is what little Eletha has told me. They were semi-important.” Gale hummed in response, distracted. “Why?”

“Nothing. Only something to consider.” Astarion huffed with false humor. Scratching his beard, talking more to himself than Astarion, Gale said, “It’s a shame Cazador made you forget your old life. Of us all, you can relate to her the most…”

“I’m not sure I understand the similarities.”

“Held against your will by someone who claims to love you, to be your family. Made to behave. Bodies not yours to command,” Gale explained rather compassionately. Then he grew pensive again. “What did she do, that necessitated such methods of containment? Is it the action, or the reaction, that is affecting her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It’s always ‘I did a bad horrible thing, I’m evil, I can never be forgiven.’ Things like that.” Astarion laughed then sighed a little sadly. “Oh Gale. First a goddess. Now an insane elf. How does it feel to fall so far?”

“Does driving your first lover into the arms of pain and madness hurt worse or less than all the blood on your hands?” Gale sniped. Astarion startled, then bristled.

“That’s not fair,” he warned.

“Any more fair than what you just said?” Gale asked, getting to his feet. Standing tall, he had to look down at Astarion a little bit. 

“Keep your meddling paws out of other people’s business,” Astarion growled.

“Why must you treat me like an enemy? We want the same thing: for her to get better. To do that, I’m afraid we must meddle in her business.”

“It’s not just her business, is it? It’s mine as well.”

“The business of a man buried over two centuries ago.” Gale tilted his head and the harshness left his eyes and voice. “You’re worried that she can’t forgive you.”

“Of course I am!” Stupid wizards. Why did they have to be so smart and also so slow at the same time?

“Mm, I find it unlikely. You hold a special place in her heart, broken or no,” Gale told him rather academically, picking something up from his desk. In his outstretched palm he held the scrap of cloth from Eletha’s tent. With a pair of tweezers, he carefully dissected it, revealing a lock of curly white hair. When his tweezers tried to brush the hairs, they were rebuffed. “A preservation charm. I can only assume that this hair once belonged to you, perhaps the garment this cloth came from as well. With a few tools and a wizard’s expertise, she could have easily found you in Baldur’s Gate.”

“But she didn’t. The one civilized place on the Sword Coast she’s never visited,” Astarion said harshly, hovering between shock and anger.

“There are many possible explanations. Eletha is a proponent of choices. You chose to leave, so she respected your choice. Perhaps she was afraid that you never loved her, or that you hated her for waiting so long to follow.” Gale carefully resealed the token so that it could be replaced in Eletha’s tent. “Perhaps she had no choice but to let you go. There’s no telling until she feels ready to explain.”

“I’ll put it back,” Astarion said after a moment, holding out his hand. Gale placed the token in his palm, only to gently take hold of his hand.

“It is a shame. I was hoping to encourage a relationship between us. Eletha was always interesting, a mix of mysterious and open, having lived a rich life of adventure. I had an impression that she found me interesting as well, but she is so clearly afraid of being hurt again.” Gale looked at their interlocked hands fondly. “I suppose I could say the same for you.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and emitted a soft sound of sweetness before threading his fingers through the loose waves of hair at the back of Gale’s neck. Pulling him down slightly while raising himself up on his toes, Astarion pressed their lips together in a needy kiss.Gale’s mouth opened slightly in a surprised gasp and Astarion found his tongue with his own.

Neither kissed like a novice, but it felt different. Electric. With the orb stabilized by Mystra, Gale didn’t fear the sudden excitement of flesh touching flesh or the sound of someone’s moans in his ears. Even Eletha’s light touches and chaste kisses on his head threatened to explode his heart after so long without a person’s touch.

He was suddenly aware of how clammy his hands had become. His body was shaking and his head felt like it might float away without him. A pit of sickness sat in his stomach and Gale pushed Astarion away just a little bit. Before Astarion could misunderstand, he said shakily, “I think it has been too long for me. I am a starving man eating more than his stomach can handle.”

Astarion’s face went through a range of emotions, from hurt to annoyance and finally thoughtfulness. “Eletha had that reaction too. I just assumed she was drunk, but the only thing you seem drunk on is the taste of my lips.”

“There is some truth to that,” Gale agreed with a light laugh. Holding a hand to his heart, he said, “I assure you, I enjoyed that very much.”

“I should… put this back,” Astarion said hesitantly with a small smile, indicating Eletha’s token. “Maybe I’ll come around later. Discuss… what was it we were reading now?”

“I have no clue.”

“Mm… I have done a number on you,” Astarion purred in self-satisfaction before leaving Gale’s tent.

Thankfully, Bonnet wasn’t sitting in front of Eletha’s tent when Astarion attempted to sneak in. The bear would’ve probably mauled him on sight otherwise.

He sat for a moment, just watching her breathe, fighting some internal demon. Very carefully, he placed the token in her open hand, which closed and retreated to her chest.

---

It was late and everyone was seeing to their evening routines when indecipherable elvish yelling grew louder in Eletha’s tent.

She emerged, a leather wallet in one hand, her face red with anger. Everyone was gathering, but she only had eyes for Astarion. Pointing an accusing finger at him, she yelled, “How dare you go through my things!”

Astarion chuckled nervously, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, like anyone else has an interest in my journals? The place where I keep all my intimate thoughts and memories?” Eletha sneered, narrowing her eyes. Astarion went from nervous to confused.

“I didn’t take your journals,” he insisted, biting off the urge to call her ‘darling’ or ‘my dear’. He knew by now that it could upset her more just as much as it could make her melt. “And even if I did, it would only be to figure out what’s wrong with you so we can move on.”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Those closest to her tensed, preparing to stop her if she decided to settle this with a fight. Those closer to Astarion gravitated towards him, to get between them if anything went wrong.

Instead, Eletha undid the complicated tie of her wallet and dumped the contents out onto the ground. A seemingly endless flood of books, papers, and scrolls fell out. Giving it one last shake to make sure it was empty, Eletha dropped the wallet on the pile.

“They’re yours now. Have fun,” she growled at him before returning to her tent. 

Those nearby rushed forward as a slight breeze caught the papers, threatening to blow them into the campfire. Everyone gathered to deal with the mess.

“Interesting. A bag of holding, but just for paper?” Gale pondered aloud as he inspected the leather wallet before setting it aside. Astarion snatched it up with a little glare. He was pretty sure he just got blamed for Gale’s sticky fingers and he wasn’t about to let the wizard take something Eletha just entrusted to him.

“She certainly needs it,” Shadowheart remarked, gathering some journals into a stack and setting them next to Gale, who immediately started organizing them.

“Wow, so many for this Lorelai person,” Karlach said after a while of picking up letters and putting them into a semi-neat pile. 

“That’s her childhood name,” Gale explained, becoming excited by something he’d noticed. “Elves pick their own name when they reach one hundred years of age.”

“Oh.” Karlach went from confused, to understanding, to confused again. “Why are they all still sealed? Seems weird, keeping letters you didn’t even bother readin’.”

Gale was deaf to the question, reading the oldest of the journals. In a stilting manner, as he not only had to translate Elvish, but a child’s Elvish, he read aloud to himself loud enough for them to hear. 

“Father said that I should keep a journal, so I can always remember what happened to me. Today isn’t my birthday, but another elf was born last week. Mother said they were worried I would get upset that I was no longer the youngest and wouldn’t get all the attention, so they gave me a gift. I don’t think the new baby wants the attention I get. All Father and Mother do is yell at me for not doing what they want, but I don’t understand what they want. Maybe Astarion will understand. But right now he is just a squishy ugly baby with BIG GOBLIN EARS. They are SO BIG. I hope he grows into them, like the hunting dogs’ puppies.”

On the other side of the page was a crude child’s drawing of what appeared to be a fat baby’s head with cherubic cheeks and some rudimentary curls. Attached to either side were massive elf ears. Surprised, Gale guffawed most uncharacteristically and turned the journal to show everyone. They all laughed, except Astarion, who grumbled in embarrassment.

“Mother says I have to take care of Astarion, it is my ‘role.’ All the Mothers tell me that I should prepare myself, even if it might never happen. Having to take care of him makes me feel gross. The way the Mothers talk about babies makes me feel grosser. I tried taking him away from them, so they’d stop making me feel bad and wouldn’t make him feel bad either, but they yelled at me and made me sit in the rocks again. It’s not Star’s fault. He’s just a baby. One day he’ll be my age, will he feel like this too? All the other children are so much older than me, they treat me like a baby too. I feel like I’ve grown up a lot in a year. I have to grow up just enough to protect Star but still be his friend.”

“Oh, that’s heartbreakin’…” Karlach breathed, holding her breath as she listened. The others were listening, reacting in their own little ways. Lae’zel was still cleaning up the mess. Shadowheart knelt, appearing as if in prayer. Wyll took special interest in each thing he picked up so he could put it in the appropriate pile. Halsin listened with compassionate sadness, while Astarion sat like a statue, frozen in place.

Gale skipped ahead, his wizard’s mind able to quickly read and catalog the information, especially as the Elvish got better. Something made him smile. “Astarion keeps stealing my socks. Why socks? At least they’re clean socks. A lot of stuff keeps going missing and showing up somewhere else and I think it’s him. A lot of them let Astarion into their caravan for no reason and let him do what he pleases, but I’ve seen him sneak into our caravan before to steal my socks. Whenever I catch him, he sticks them on his ears and says ‘I can’t hear you! I have feet for ears!”

Everyone but Astarion laughed once more.

“That’s so strange… It looks like she wrote or drew something every day, but there’s a whole year missing. The pages are ripped out.” Shadowheart pointed out, having flipped through a few of the journals herself. “She said Astarion left when she was 35, so the year after is missing.”

Everyone was making comments about him, but Astarion was deaf as he picked out a bundle of papers from the pile. One edge of them was jagged. He undid the piece of string holding them together and unfolded them.

“Lorelai will behave. Lorelai will eat. Will drink. Rest. Do as she is told. Stay. Not bite off her tongue. Not use the fire. Not practice the sword or the bow or with hands. She will not talk back, she will not scream or raise her voice. She will speak only when spoken to and always be polite. She will not interact with outsiders. She must always be accompanied. Always be clean. Lorelai will be a good girl. Lorelai will apologize for what she’s done. I am a good girl. I promise to be good. I am sorry for what I’ve done.”

The torn pages lined up with those tears in the journal. The first page after was a depiction of a black circle. Taking the journal from Astarion, Gale pointed at the picture. “I’ve seen that. In her head. ‘Something old, something bad. Evil, mean old Lorelai.’”

Gale flipped past some more drawings and lists of typical adventurer things like how many supplies she had and where she was going. Then it went back to a sane depiction of a journal.

“I am not a good girl. I will not do as I’m told. I will not behave. I will eat and drink to spite them. I will bite my tongue when it suits me, when its sharpness cannot aid me. I will speak loud and clear when I please. I will be alone. I will not apologize. I am not sorry for what I’ve done, my only regret is that I let them control me. I won’t let anyone control me ever again.

“I am never coming back. I will never forgive these transgressions against me. I will not forget them, but I will bury them, in a hole deep and dark and bottomless inside me. The hole they made in me, where my heart and family should be.

“I don’t believe that Astarion left in order to leave me behind. He loves to chase and be chased. But I will always wonder, if that was true, why didn’t he turn back to find me? Maybe they were right. I will grant them this small token of grace. Maybe I was abandoned, as I abandon in kind.

“I am far from my 100th year, but I shake off the yoke of my name. Everyone I meet will know me as Eletha, a name Astarion always liked, and I will fashion myself a Nighstar. Who will ever know it’s not true? I might not ever be important, these might be the only words ever written about me, but when I speak this name, I will know that I am more than what I was meant to be.”

“I can’t tell if that’s sad or brave…” Wyll whispered to himself.

“What’s… E… Sum? Hey, I’m getting pretty good at this Elvish thing!” Karlach said excitedly, holding up a letter she’d been inspecting. Gale, Shadowheart, Halsin, and Astarion went blank-faced.

“It says, ‘To my Son’,” Halsin explained gently and quietly, so Eletha couldn’t overhear them.

“I do not understand. As in a male child?” Lae’zel asked.

“Yes, Lae’zel. And seeing as Eletha is a female child…” 

Shadowheart laughed nervously, pinching Halsin’s arm to get him to shut up. “Maybe it’s for Astarion! And she just… forgot about it.”

“As nice as that seems…” Gale started darkly, holding Eletha’s journal with the pages ripped out, “With the knowledge I have, of all the theories I’ve considered, and the fact that I can recognize Eletha’s hand, it is most likely that this is to her son…”

Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then Karlach looked at Astarion and offered him a strained smile. “Congratulations?”

“That paper seems awfully old. And it looks like it was never sealed,” Wyll pointed out, taking the letter from Karlach. “She never sent this. Why keep it? I guess it’s like the others. Felt too guilty to burn it? Thrown in the bag and forgotten?”

“We shouldn’t read that, right? Even dictating every event of her life for over 260 years is less personal than that,” Shadowheart insisted warily, carefully taking the letter from Wyll and handing it to Gale.

“It is, however, the center of the problem,” Gale explained firmly. “If anyone is to read it, it should be Astarion.”

“Why should I read it?!” he yelled out, his voice cracking. Some of them leaned away nervously. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy! This is crazy! This is insane! And not the least bit funny.”

“It is okay to be upset,” Halsin told him gently.

“Of course it’s okay! This is very upsetting! I’m sure for someone like you, this would come as no surprise! Almost two months ago, I was just a vampire spawn hunting for my master. I’ve had an old lover show up who wants to play mindgames, go insane, and now this?!”

“I don’t think it’s mindgames, bud,” Karlach said, going through a journal that appeared to be in Common instead of Elvish, although sometimes the script slipped and she had trouble reading it. “Look. 50 years ago. She met an elf on the road, they hit it off, they try to give it a go, she has a lot of nasty feelings after. Talks about this black pit, yeah? And it gets all hard to read. Then she says someone named Mellia found her and took care of her until she got better.”

“Mmm, sounds much like now. She’s spiraling,” Shadowheart said, taking the journal and reading the same bit like they were in some book club with only once copy.

“Down, down, down, spiraling down. Cracked like an egg, to hatch or to eat? The dry leaves sound lovely under our feet,” Gale repeated in a hollow sing-song voice, stroking his beard in thought.

“That’s right fucked.” Some murmured in agreement. Karlach looked at them all, hoping for an answer. “So what do we do? Hide all the booze? Make her stay awake?”

“Honestly, she was fighting harder before this little… break,” Wyll remarked. “I’d be happy if we could get back to that.”

“Eletha has been avoiding this since the beginning. This is an invitation as much as it is an explanation. She needs to say these words herself, so she might share the burden,” Halsin explained with the dispassion of a healer trying to be taken seriously at the expense of compassion.

“I didn't want to go to that hag, but Wyll was right. Damn those foolish boys and their foolish sister. People go to hags for a reason. They want something and there is payment. They are desperate and stupid and they don't understand that. I left Ethel and Mayrina alone because the girl made her choice. My parents, Astarion’s parents, the whole clan, they took my choice away from me.

“I can still hear that hag’s mockery in my head. ‘A dead dog is a better mother than you. Just as selfish and stupid as this girl. You should be ashamed of yourself, trying to smother a babe before it’s even born.’

“She’s wrong. I made the right choice, to walk away. He didn't deserve a mother like me. No child does. 

“If Mellia turned me, could she make me forget, like Astarion? Could Aluin just say some words, wiggle his fingers, or brew me a potion? Maybe this adventure will be my last and it’ll be some other elf’s problem in a hundred years. I’m sorry for haunting your reveries, my next life.

“I’m sorry, everyone. I wanted to protect you, to be strong for you. I wanted to be a shield against the cruelty of the world, but I’m afraid my steel is brittle and my wood rotten. I can’t be your mother any more than I could be his.”

“The rest is… scribbles,” Gale explained in saddened resignation, flipping past indecipherable text and grotesque attempts at artistry.

“Maybe we should put these away,” Halsin said, taking the pouch from Astarion and carefully putting journals in one by one. The others made tidy piles in front of them and passed the pouch around, until Gale was handing it back to Astarion.

“She did say that they were yours now,” he explained when Astarion started to push it away. “Although. A bag of holding just for texts? I would gladly take it off your hands.” 

“No, you can’t eat this one,” Astarion growled, putting his body in between the bag and Gale. Gale chuckled and smiled, easing the tension around the camp.

Astarion sat in his tent, alone, staring at the things in his lap. One was the wallet, and on top of it, the well-worn letter. He fingered its edge in agitation. A little tear formed and he panicked. Very carefully, he set it aside and opened the wallet once more. He placed the letters into little piles. Letters addressed to Lorelai, unopened. Letters addressed to Eletha, in smaller piles by sender. There were quite a few from people named ‘Mellia, Your Sanguine Companion’, ‘Aluin of Suzail’, ‘Tyrlumin, Your Melodic Cha’, and ‘Bromthrum Starkhammer, Provider of Fine Crafts.’ There were miscellaneous letters, some very old, from people thanking her for heroic deeds or just simple acts of kindness. There was even one thanking her for the exceptional quality of a set of mink pelts she provided that went into making a coat for some king Astarion never heard of.

He read them, because he couldn’t help himself. She seemed very close with her humanoid companions, which probably explained why she had so many letters.

Mellia, mysterious and charming, her oldest and possibly closest friend. They met when a pack of gnolls were terrorizing some little farming town. They banded together to slaughter every one. Eletha was just passing by, Mellia was a vampire and had an accord with one of the village leaders. It made his blood boil, he couldn’t think of a higher vampire and not see Cazador, but her letters were so… sweet. Not fake sweet. She would recount some event or vista that made her think of Eletha and their adventures. It was hard to imagine a vampire soaking with an elf in a hot spring up in some monster-infested mountains, but they apparently had 50 years ago. ‘I am glad that I could keep you away from the edge once more, my lovely friend. Maybe it is time you venture to Baldur’s Gate? I will gladly join you, and I know that you have other friends that would answer the call.’ A band of hardened adventurers, showing up at Cazador’s palace, demanding he relinquish his favorite spawn? A story for the ages… 

Aluin the human mage, whose words read nothing like Gale’s. Even as he grew older, his boyish exuberance could still be heard in his retellings of discoveries and mishaps. She lost her eye protecting him from a warg and guided him back to Suzail. To return the favor, he offered her a magic eye. It allowed her to peer into memories of places, things, and people, to see them as they once were. Aluin wanted her to take him on many adventures and he always thanked her from the bottom of his heart for every scrap of artifact she sent to him from her travels. There was a subtle love in his words. 

Tyrlumin, a half-elf bard, whose age she could not discern. He often talked to her like she was a child, but had his own childish penchant for getting into trouble. They met on the road, nothing special, but they were drawn to one another. It seemed he used her for inspiration in some of his songs. He would run into her, seemingly not by accident, and they would travel together until he would disappear in the night, leaving behind a note. It was often a dirty limerick.

Finally, Bromthrum, a purveyor of high-quality dwarven goods, trading to princes, wizards, and thieves alike. She came to his aid upon the road as he was waylaid by bandits. They shared a fondness for drink and smoke. He sounded enamored by her elven beauty and the artistry she employed in battle. She seemed drawn to his complete lack of similarities to elves. He gave her steep discounts on goods and she protected his caravan when she was around.

Astarion didn’t touch the sealed letters. Maybe he had some sense of propriety. They were all so old… It seemed they stopped only 50 years after she left the Dales.

Then there were two. For their E’Sum. For Astarion Ancunin, Baldur’s Gate.

This, too, was old, but not as old as some. Likely, this letter would have never reached him. The furthest it might have gotten was to Cazador, and then what jealous hellfire would his master have rained upon him for receiving a letter from a long-lost lover?

It was meant for him. That meant he could read it, no? It found him, after all these years.

Astarion snuck into Gale’s tent.

“Can I help you?” Gale grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I need you to read this,” Astarion insisted, shoving the letter at him. Gale moved away, offended as Astarion pressed the piece of parchment into his chest.

“I think you're capable of reading.”

“I can't do it.”

“Then don't read it.”

“But it's for me.”

“Then I shouldn't be reading it.”

“Dammit Gale, can you just do this for me?” Astarion hissed. “Can you stop being an emotionless pompous arse for one minute?”

“I'm not emotionless, I’m exhausted. That wasn’t exactly easy on me, either. I didn’t even tell you some of the horrible things in those journals,” Gale explained, but took the letter anyway. A little hurt he said, “Is that how you see me?”

“Gale, I need the attention now, or I'm going to start stabbing people.”

“How is that different from usual?” Gale muttered as he opened the letter. “Dear Astarion, stop being dramatic and let Gale sleep.”

“You’re aware of how much of an ass you are, yes?”

“My Star,” Gale started, ignoring him. He actually put a little emotion into it. Astarion listened intently. “Aluin says that writing letters is healing, that ordering our thoughts to communicate them helps us understand ourselves as much as it helps others understand us. I’m not as good with words as Mellia or Lumin. I guess you don't know any of these people. They are friends I've made along the way and if we meet again, I want you to meet them. They’ve helped me a lot, taught me that I deserve to be loved and helped. I don’t always believe them, but it is what it is. Do you remember Heilar saything that all the time, when you’d tell him I beat you unfairly during sword practice? I wonder if I still can. 

“I spent a long time hating you, but I always loved you. I never wished ill on you, even when I hated you the most. I always wondered what I did to make you leave me behind. I always wondered if you thought I'd follow. I wanted to, but our parents bade me stay. Then they made me stay.

What is it like, in Baldur’s Gate? I always wanted to go to Waterdeep instead.” Gale's eyes lit up suddenly and he opened his mouth to make some quip, but when he looked up, Astarion was the picture of anxiety, biting his lip, knees to his chest, fear in his eyes. 

“It took me a long time to accept responsibility for what happened. I would always say to myself that you left a mess behind, you did this to me, that it was all your fault. It was best that you left, because if you'd stayed, I don't want to imagine what you would have done. Would you take their side, or defend me tooth and nail? I couldn't bear it if you were just another person I couldn't forgive. But I wouldn’t want our family’s blood on your hands either.

“I don't know his name. I left as soon as I could. I'm sorry that I can't tell you anything about him. I would think that your parents would try to write you, but maybe they think it meant nothing to you. They try to write me, but I can't read them. I don't want to read them, but I can't destroy them.

“No matter how many friends I make, how many people I help, I will always know that I am a callous monster. Despite how rare it is, despite what it would mean for our families and our people, I didn't want to keep the thing you left behind in me. Knowing it was there filled me with a sickness that went beyond any story the Mothers told me. I was no longer myself, I was just a vessel. I found myself repulsive. I tried to find some way to be rid of it, but our mothers caught me. 

“At first they aimed to tame me with guilt and shame. They told me I was irresponsible, cowardly, a disgrace, for trying to throw away this blessing that felt to me like a curse, a punishment. There were only hard eyes and sharp words for me. I became desperate and tried my own ways of removing my curse. When they denied me that, I tried to bite through my own tongue to spare myself the pain of my burden and it the pain of having me for a mother.

“They took turns, holding me with their magic, giving me no choice but to do what they deemed right. I looked out of my eyes on a world that became hostile and full of villains, faces made of cruelty. The body that moved was not my own, but I still felt that awful feeling in my heart, felt trapped in my own skin just as much as in their power.

“I'm not sorry that I left, so why do I feel guilty? Broken? I'm not sorry for being broken. Was this soul always broken, throughout its many lives?

“I made a deal with a fey. In exchange for never bearing children again, I am cursed to burn by the emptiness of the new moon. It hurt, at first, but not as much as that year hurt. The fey thought me mad for requesting such a simple silly thing and not real power. Maybe I am. You have to be pretty mad to make a fey question your request.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I forgive you. I don't expect you to forgive me. I hope you can still love me, as unlovable as I am. 

“Ever yours- Lori”

At some point, Astarion had placed his head in Gale’s lap. So caught up in the letter, Gale didn't notice. Now that he was done, he freed up a hand to pat Astarion’s head. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Gale whispered tiredly, still stroking Astarion’s hair. “It’s going to be okay. Tomorrow is another day.”

[autumnmist101]

New Life Sick fic

Hello! I'm new to posting here, but wanted to share this story I made towards the beginning of the New Life SMP! If you like it let me know and I may post more!

“Just a little more coal an’ this soup will be ready.” Scott Smajor says as he packs some more coal into his stove. He had spent all morning trying new recipes until a little Good Guy came around and asked him for some soup for Gem. The pour girl had recently come down with an illness since turning into a blaze.

Upon hearing the news Scott had quickly set to work making just about every comfort recipe that he could and now had a decent amount that he could take over to his friend. He just needed this last soup to finish before he could leave.

“An’ done.” He smiles before placing the last of the soup into his lunch pack. He teleports outside and took the way-stone over to Gem’s place where he was met with a giant villain-like tower. Looking past that, he could see Gem’s starter base, one of the walls having been charred.

“Guess she must’ve sneezed.” He chuckles before going up to the door of the new build.

“Knock knock!” He calls, rapping on the door. However much to his surprise a little copper golem Pearl answers.

“Beep boop.”

“Hello Pearl, I came to see how Gem is doin’.” He explains as Pearl let him in.

“Beep boop.” Pearl says again before leading him up the ladder to Gem’s bedroom. There the two find the pour blaze under a mountain of blankets with ashes scattered about and some even overflowing from the bin beside her. The blaze herself looked no better, only little puffs of smoke emitted from her skin rather than embers, her hair was frazzled to no end, and she was shivering violently.

“Beep Boop.” Pearl said for Gem to turn to the two.

“O-oh. Hi Sss-s-Sc-Scott.” The blaze stammers, sitting up as the two came over. He could hear her teeth chattering as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I heard you were sick. Thought you could use some soup and such.”

“Beep Boop!?” Pearl perks up before digging in the lunch pack and grabbing a bowl. She holds it up and dances around making Gem giggle.

“You j-just made a fr-friend f-for life.” She says pulling the blanket closer. Pearl stops her happy dance and frowns.

“Aww, what’s wrong Pearl?”

“Sh-sh-she c-can’t act-tually eat it. Only c-copper.”

“Beep boop.” Pearl frowns before walking back over and offering Gem the soup.

“Gem, have you tried checking your temper’ture?” Scott questions as Gem drinks some of the broth. “If it gets too low you could be in serious danger.”

“We can ma— ahke— Ah Choo!” She sneezed into a tissue for it burst into flames.

“Bless you.” He says with Pearl in her golem talk.

“Thank you.” She says, “But we can actually make thermometers?” She questions for Scott to nod.

“Beep boop beep boop!?” Pearl asks for Scott to tell her the crafting recipe. She then scampers off to make it.

“So, I take it she’s been your little helper for the time bein’?” Scott questions for Gem to smile.

“Yeah, though she used to talk normally until I said she should only talk in beeps. I was joking, of course, but she’s committed to the b-bit.” Gem says before shivering again and taking another soup from the pack. “S-so how’ve y-you been Sss-Sc-Scott?”

“Oh, fairly well. Though I got lost in the nether the other day. Apparently, my teleportation isn’t interdimensional, though I did find some stuff while there.”

“Ooh like wha-ah-ah choo!”

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.” She sniffs, “What stuff did you find?”

“I found some gold, a strider spawner, a fortress, some dressers, and an abandoned city. Honestly though, the city had already been kind of raided.”

“It may have been the one Fwhip found. I know he got a lot of stuff. He also said he put down a way-stone.” Gem says setting the bowl aside.

“I thought about making one but didn’t know if they were interdimensional.”

“I think so, but I’m not testing it.” She sneezes again, “My days in the nether are over.”

“Aw you mean you don’t want to move there? It is warmer than it is here.”

“I’m sure. Too many awful mobs live there.”

“I think Sparrow would say the same thin’.” Scott chuckles, “Sausage says he met him right after he came out.”

“How is Sparrow? I haven’t seen him since I was a swarm.”

“He’s good. Still a human but he’s working on a mechanism that could give him powers.”

“Give him powers? What? Is he making a blender that’ll mix him and something else?”

“Mm hm. Sausage told him that he just had to die, but he’s not too keen about that idea, since he’s only a human. Though I think Martyn mentioned that—”

Thickth

“Gem?”

Thickth

“Uh- uh oh.”

Thickth

“Gem your freezing!” He shoots up to find a flint and steal. Scrambling to every chest and barrel he could see.

Thickth

“F-fire!”

Thickth

“Pearl!” Scott calls scrambling to a cabinet by the window. He glances out. Spotting a lava pool.

He runs back to Gem. Scooping her up and teleporting outside. He throws her into the pit, taking some fire damage due to the splash.

“Sc- Scott!” He hears her sputter. He looks back to see she had gotten her color back with the embers beginning to emit from her skin again.

“It worked! Your saved!” He cheers as she glares up at him from the pool.

“Yeah, but next time give a girl a warning. I could’ve drowned.” She chuckles wiping some lava off her forehead.

“There you two are! Good gracious! I thought you had died!” The two hear Pearl say. She walks over, the newly made thermometer in hand, and sees Gem in the pit.

“How’s that working for you?” She asks dropping the thermometer onto the stone ledge around the pit.

“Fairly well actually.” Gem states, “What took you so long?”

“Your chest monster. Honestly Gem, it’s a nightmare!” Pearl sighs, “Anyway how’s your temperature?”

“It’s still kind of low but better than what it was.” She pauses, grabbing some of the lava in a bucket before climbing out. As the three head back to her base, passing the way-stone on the way, Gem thanks Scott for saving her and for bringing over the soup.

“Don’t mention it," Scott says, stepping up to the way stone. He chuckles, "you just take care of yourself and don’t burn down the forest.”

[rogerswifesblog-updates]

- chapter 3 -

Series Masterlist

Previous chapter

Masterlist

A/N: Hi!! Here’s the next chapter! I really hope you’ll like it:) ill probably be busy for the next few weeks because of my upcoming exams 😩 but thankfully the next chapter is also ready to post!

Pairing: student!Steve Rogers x Tutor!reader

Warnings: mentioned divorce between Steve’s parents, not Joseph Rogers friendly he’s a dick in this one, mentioned previous Rumlow x Reader, alcohol

For the next few days Steve couldn’t stop thinking about what happened between you two. You put your beautiful lips on him and it made him crazy. Since then he couldn’t stop thinking or talking about it. So once again Bucky was listening to his rambling. “Have you texted her after that?”, Bucky asked, sipping at his coffee, watching as Steve nodded and sighed. “Yeah, I did. Yesterday, and she said we should forget about what happened-or at least not talk about it. And that it won’t happen again”, Steve looked down at his phone, feeling how his chest tightened for a moment.

He still didn’t know why you did it, but he definitely enjoyed it. It just confused him. A lot.

“Steve maybe…maybe you should try to move on?”, Bucky said softer than usual and Steve definitely felt his throat tighten. He didn’t want to let go. At least just for the next few weeks. If you still wouldn’t want him after his birthday, then he’d stop pinning after you. Only a few weeks and then he’ll hopefully be your boyfriend. “Let’s go, break ends in a few minutes and we shouldn’t be late for biology”, he said, pulling Bucky with him.

After school he drove home, also dropping Bucky off since they lived only a few minutes from each other. “Hi mom”, he greeted his mom in the kitchen, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She smiled softly at her son, always greeting her the same way. It was really sweet. She was incredibly happy to have a son like him. “How was school?”, it’s the usual question, followed by the usual answer about how boring it was.

He helped her prepare something to eat, before sitting together down at the table. Just the two of them, but it was better that day after the messy divorce his parents had. “What do you want to do for your birthday? It’s only two weeks”, Steve didn’t need to think about it too long, already planning something. “I’d like dinner-just you, me and…Y/N”, he said smiling, his cheeks blushing slightly. “Isn’t this your tutor your father found for you?” Steve nodded, swallowing hard, knowing this could be a slightly uncomfortable conversation.

“Yes, Dad asked to help me a few months ago. She’s really good at explaining but she’s also a great friend. I really like her-maybe we could invite her, you could meet her-”, he started rambling, as he felt blush creeping onto his cheeks, painting him scarlet. “Not that we’re a couple or anything-it’s just that-“ “you like that girl?”, his mother asked.

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he managed.

“She-she’s very nice. And really pretty…and also really smart-like, really smart. I think she’s doing her master's in mathematics? Or-or, well at least something with math”, while he explained, Sarah put her fork down and leaned a bit back in her seat. “How old is she? You didn't mention that she’s in college before…and master, then she’s probably around 23?” His moms guessing made him wince slightly, since she didn’t sound very pleased with that. “She’s…25, turning 26 this year-but age isn’t the point-“ “Steve she’s 8 years older, how does that not matter? You know I want you to be happy, but why would you choose a woman that’s nearly a decade older than you? Are you sure she’s having good intentions-“ “Mom, we’re really not together. She said the same thing-that she’s too old”

His mother nodded, picking up her fork again and continued eating for a moment. “If you want to invite her I don’t mind, but I think your father will want to join us, so you should also tell him she’d be here”, Steve nodded at Sarah’s words, his lips twitching to a smile.

A few days later he was once again at his fathers place, waiting in his room till you arrived. “Hello Steve”, you greet him entering the room. Smiling Steve stepped closer to you, pulling you in a hug. It surprised you pretty much, but your arms wrapped around him automatically and you could feel how he put more weight on you. “Where did this come from, Steve?” You laughed against his chest, brushing your hands over his back. He sighed into your hair.

Slowly he let go of you, looking down at you with an uneasy expression. “Is it about last week? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me”, you said quietly, but Steve shook his head, even though it definitely was about last week. “It’s not like I mind-definitely enjoyed it, you know?”, he grinned, while his face turned the usual rosy shade. Somehow even you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. This boy was creeping into your heart and you couldn’t even stop him from doing so.

He took a deep and nervous breath.

“I’d like to invite you to dinner-not a date but a dinner with my parents, on my birthday. It’s in two weeks. I’m turning eighteen”, Steve took one of your hands in his, slowly interlocking his fingers with yours, your gaze immediately dropping to your hands. He was hopeful, his voice slightly trembling nervously even though he tried to hide it.

For a moment fell silent between you, while you let go of his hand, making him visibly gulp. “It’s your birthday, of course I’ll come. As your friend.” You didn’t know who you had to remind more about the actual relationship that was between you two. Just friendship. Nothing more. It couldn’t be more. “And now come on, we still have some work to do.”

You noticed how he sat much closer to you, his knee always bumping into your leg, hands curiously and unsure resting on your thighs. The worst part about it is how much you enjoyed it. The gentle touches, the soft smiles…

You were really falling for him, huh?

“You’re much better, Steve. I’m really proud of you for how far you came”, you said, noticing he hadn’t had a single mistake in his last calculations. A quiet and happy giggle escaped Steve's lips. A giggle. This boy really made it hard for you not to fall any more for him. With this sun kissed cheeks and sparkling eyes. He was truly a beauty.

Fuck, stop thinking about him like that.

Packing up your stuff you felt his gaze on you, which was something that happened quite often. He was always looking at you, not saying anything, just looking. And if you had to be honest you liked it. It made you feel pretty and even a bit flustered. You can’t remember when you felt flustered because of a man.

“See you next week, Stevie”, with that you looked over your shoulder one last time, before leaving and going straight to your place. On the way you called Natasha, asking her if she could come over in the evening.

After buying some tequila, juice and snacks you made your way home and Nat came by only an hour later, not giving you much time to do anything besides taking a quick shower. She let herself in, with a key you still didn't know where she had it from, but got used to it pretty quickly. At least you didn’t have to interrupt preparing the tequila-sunrises, something you two always loved drinking. But also telling her something was wrong.

“So what’s up? What happened that you needed to buy the bigger bottle”, Natasha grabbed the tequila bottle and looked back at you. You were probably blushing the same deep red as Steve always did. “I’m just so stupid, Natasha. Always getting myself into…. something…always some kind of trouble. I really don’t know what-“ “Is it still about Steve?” “I think I’m in love with him”, you didn’t even mean to say it. It just slipped.

Even Natasha didn’t know what to say-and she always knew what to say. She was never speechless.

You grabbed the drinks you just made, walking to the couch. “He invited me to his birthday tho”, you tried to say something, probably making it even worse. Natasha followed you, drinking a big sip after sitting down with you. You waited for any kind of answer, your chest feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“You deserve some love, you know? He may be a bit younger, but this shouldn’t affect your relationship too much. Especially not after his birthday”, she tried reassuring you, gently bumping her elbow into your side. It even made you laugh quietly, since you were ticklish and sensitive there.

You sipped at your drink, before finally looking back to Natasha. “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship, Nat….”, you whispered, feeling your eyes burn just by the thought about your last boyfriend, fiancé even. Natasha recognised the pain in your eyes, having cheered you up after the awful breakup.

She put her arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Rumlow was a dick and everything he did wasn’t your fault. You deserve someone…good. From what you told me Steve is good. He’s a good and sweet guy”, she stroked over your hair, making you sign into her shoulder. “But he’s inexp-“ “you’ll get there. Just teach him and talk to him about everything. You two just need to talk.”

The rest of the evening was spent watching your comfort movies and drinking, leaving you with an awful hangover in the morning, while Natasha prepared breakfast for you, not even having a little headache.

The next two weeks passed quickly. The day of Steve’s birthday dinner came and you looked at yourself in the mirror a last time. You looked good. Since it was his birthday you decided to dress up, put on some makeup and also some pretty heels. It’s not like you needed to impress him but…but you still wanted him to like you. Smoothing down the last crease in your dress you put on your jacket and left your apartment. You decided to take the subway, since he lived only a few stations away.

You felt nervous, knowing you’d met his mother in a few minutes. Thankfully you knew his dad, since he was your boss, but it still didn’t make you any less anxious.

What if they don't like you? What if you’d do something stupid? What if you trip over their carpet and totally embarrass yourself? Maybe they don’t have a carpet.

You shook your head over yourself, knowing exactly your overthinking wouldn’t help you in any way.

Talking up the porch, you felt your hands starting to sweat, the gift you were holding nearly slipping out of your hands. After you rang the doorbell it took Steve less than a minute before he opened the door. Your breath hitched seeing him.

He was…also dressed up. Normally you saw him on the weekends, sleepy, in hoodies and with messy hair but today he was completely different. He wore a black button down, the first two buttons leaving open. His hair was neatly slicked back and it seemed like he was wearing dress pants, perfectly ironed. He looked so much older like that. So much closer to your age than his.

For a moment you looked at each other silently, before someone else appeared behind him. A blond woman, with identical features to his own, just more feminine. His mother. You felt yourself blushing, finally remembering to move and pulling Steve in a hug. “Happy birthday Stevie, thank you for inviting me”, you whispered in his ear, before kissing his cheeks gently. When you tried to pull away from him, he just grabbed you a bit tighter, burying his nose against your throat. Wow, you smelled so sweet. So so good. He could get drunk on you.

Over his shoulder you could see his mother smiling at you, making you smile back at her. She seemed friendly, even though you could recognise the overprotective mother gaze, watching you like a hawk.

Finally Steve let go of you and you gave him your gift. “I noticed you’re always doodling and sketching on your notebooks and homework so…yeah, I hope you like it”, you said shyly. You’ve never liked giving gifts, never being sure about what would make someone happy, but you hoped Steve would-

“Oh wow, but thats-this was expensive. I know it was, don’t even deny it”, he mumbled, taking out the sketchbook and a pencil case. They definitely were expensive, but you knew these were good to sketch. The price didn’t matter seeing how bright his smile was, when he opened the first page where you had drawn something yourself. Just a cake with eighteen candles and a big ‘happy birthday’ over it. It wasn’t as good as Steve’s drawing, but not bad. Thankfully sketching was also one of your small hobbies.

Once again Steve pulled you against his chest, holding you tightly. “Thank you, I love it”, he mumbled, before slowly letting you go. You felt blood rush to your cheeks, while looking back at his mother and stepping closer to her. “I’m Y/N, pleasure to meet you”, while you held out your hand for her to shake, you noticed how much you were shaking.

The woman smiled at you, taking your hand and pulling you in a quick hug. “You can call me Sarah, it’s nice to meet you. Steve told me a lot about you.” And even though you couldn’t see Steve you knew he was giving his mom a look and probably turning crimson.

“I brought yhm-a wine, I hope that’s okay, I just didn’t want to come empty handed”, you said, giving it to Sarah, which surprised her. But you could tell it was in a good way.

Okay, good…It looked like she liked you. At least a bit.

After that you sat down at the table, but there was still one plate and you assumed it was for Steve’s father. This only made you even more nervous. You had no idea how it would be to spend a dinner with your boss, being here as Steve’s…what? friend? Technically but…it wasn't really just that, was it? You felt like it was more, especially when he gently put his hand on your thigh feeling it shaking all the time.

“So tell me, you’re in college right?”, Sarah asked, starting a conversation. “Yes, I am. It’s my last year but I’m not sure what I’ll do after-at first I thought about teaching but I’m not sure about that anymore-”, you didn’t even think about how your words sounded, but the looks the Rogers gave you, made you think about your words choice. Have you accidentally said something different? “Was I really this bad of a student for you to change career paths?”, asked the birthday boy, making you finally understand.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips. “Oh I’m so sorry, Steve, no of course not. You were amazing-there are probably less students so attentive like you than I’d like, but it’s not that. I just-I haven’t found my path yet”, you explained, putting your hand on his arm, squeezing gently. While looking at each other you didn’t notice how Sarah smiled secretly at the two of you, knowing something you two probably didn’t know yet.

Just as Steve opened his mouth to say something the doorbell rang again, making Steve leave the room to let his father in.

You hadn’t even noticed you were still smiling, before your gaze finally fell to Sarah. A warmth spread in your chest at her knowing smirk. “You’d like some wine?”, she asked you and you nodded silently.

She poured some of the wine for you and her, before putting the wine bottle into the fridge. Meanwhile Steve came back with his father close behind him. You quickly stood up, shaking his hand to greet him. “Hello, Mr Rogers”, you smiled friendly, but he didn’t return it. Okay, weird. You actually thought he’d be the one liking you more.

When you all were sitting and had your food, Sarah took her wine glass and smiled at you. You understood and grabbed your own, raising it slightly, before taking a sip and putting it back aside. Of course Steve noticed you and his mother having wine. Why couldn’t he have any? “Mom, why can’t I have some wine too?”

She raised her eyebrows at his comment. “Because you’re not 21”, his cheeks turned slightly rosy, but he didn’t give up. “But it’s my birthday and we’re home. Just one glass, please mom.” She shook her head and for some reason Steve looked back at you. You immediately felt all eyes on you.

“Why are you looking at me?” “Can I have a sip-“ “no, you’ve heard your mom. No wine for you till you're 21-” He scoffed Slightly. “If we were in Europe I’d be able to drink already-” “but we’re not in Europe.” For some reason your bickering made Sarah laugh quietly, breaking the argument about whether Steve should get wine.

In the end he just got orange juice.

You spent the meal with light conversation, mostly talking to Sarah and Steve. Joseph only talked to Steve, even avoiding looking at you. It made you feel unwelcome. Like an intruder in their home.

“Steve, could you go and grab my briefcase from my car”, said Joseph after everyone ate a slice of cake. Steve seemed confused, Sarah as well, but either way Steve did leave the room, looking once again back at you. For some reason you felt like your mouth went dry all of a sudden. Your heart started pounding. An uneasy feeling spreads in your chest.

And you were right.

As soon as the door closed behind Steve Joseph looked at you with a stern cold gaze. “So, what is you want from Steve? Surely you’re not with him for his maturity, since you’re ten years older-“ ouch on that one, it’s only seven, not ten, thank you very much. “-why are you even here?” You felt tears burn in your eyes. And you cried rarely.

“Steve invited me-as a friend. We’re friends, that’s all-” Joseph scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m stupid, girl? If he’d be inviting his friends he’d have invited Bicky or whatever he’s called”, said the man angrily. Sarah hit his arm. “First off-don’t speak to her that way, do you understand me? Or you can leave. And second, it’s Bucky. His name is Bucky.”

He still seemed not wanting to stop. "Bicky, bucky, whatever, not even he was invited by Steve, but you? YOU? His damn tutor? Maybe you’re not even teaching him math, huh? I shouldn’t have hired you either as my assistant or his tutor, you’re probably just sleeping-" Before you could react Sarah slapped him across the face. (Thankfully, because otherwise you’d have done it yourself.) She was as furious as you were hurt. She may not like the age gap between you and Steve, but seeing how happy Steve was with you was enough to let her overlook it. Steve’s happiness was all that mattered and she could tell you had romantic feelings for her son.

“You'll apologize to this sweet woman or leave this house now, Joseph.” Her voice was calm, but you felt the rage behind it. Joseph seemed to get angrier, too. “You can’t throw me out of my house-“ “It’s not your house anymore. Now get your cheating ass out of my house and don’t even try to call Steve, telling him shit about-“, when they heard the door open their argument immediately quieted down, but you still felt awful. Humiliated by Steve’s father accusing you of…being a whore? A gold digger? You really didn’t know what exactly his problem was.

You stood up, grabbing your purse, not looking at Joseph or Steve, just at Sarah, knowing she’d understand. “It’s late, I have to work in the morning and should go. It was lovely to meet you, Sarah. I hope to see you some other time”, you said friendly, your voice shaky and Steve definitely noticed how different your demand was from how you usually acted.

Sarah nodded with a sad secret smile on her lips, knowing the real reason. Before you put your coat on, Steve gently took your hand. “I’ll drive you, come on. It’s dark. You shouldn’t be alone on the streets”, that’s one of the reasons why he wants to drive you, but the other one was to ask you what happened here while he was gone…and also ask you on a real date.

“Steve you don’t have to, it’s okay-“, you started, but he only shook his head, taking his car keys and throwing his jacket on. “It’s fine, I’d feel better that way-knowing you’re safe”, his words made your heart swell. Steve was a good guy, Natasha was right with that one.

On the way home you stayed mostly quiet, even though Steve tried to ask you what happened, but you lied once again telling him it’s because of your early work. You could tell Steve wasn’t believing any of it, but still stopped asking.

He walked you to your apartment door, not wanting for the evening to end. Before today you’ve never spent so much time together and he enjoyed every second of it. A soft laugh escaped your lips at the way Steve was standing behind you, while you opened your apartment door-definitely not needing his supervision anymore. “Steve, I think I’m safe now”, you smiled at him, making the young man blush. He shrugged, looking at you from under his eyelashes. “Maybe I want to spend some more time with you? If you’d like…”, he whispered quietly.

You thought about it for a moment, before grabbing his hand and pulling him with you into your apartment, where the first thing you did was take off your shoes. “What would you like to do, Stevie?”, the nickname affected him immediately, his face turning a sweet shade of red. “M-maybe watch a movie? I don’t know-I’ve never been on a real date-“ “is this a date?”

You didn’t mean to sound rude, but Steve seemed to take it that way, immediately stepping away from you. “I-no-not if you don’t want to-I’m sorry for assuming-” “no, no, I’m sorry Steve. It’s okay. I’m just surprised but-yeah, I like for it to be a date”, you whispered thinking back to what Natasha had said. You deserved love. Some happiness…

And even if Steve wasn’t a partner you thought you’d end up with, you’d love to try.

That’s how you found yourself on the couch in Steve’s arms, while a movie was playing but neither of you paid attention to it, being busy with talking. Him always caressing your side and arms with his fingers, so carefully it even tickled sometimes. You couldn’t tell if the tingle on your skin was from the tickling or just from him being so close to you.

“Now that I’m 18, we could be in a relationship…go on real dates…”, he whispered in your hair after a while. For a moment you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, scared of what the right answer would be.

But the right answer was what your heart was telling you and not your head. At least this time.

You slowly lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “I’d love to do that, Steve”, you whispered back, sitting up and carefully sliding onto his lap, making sure he was comfortable with you doing so. His hands found your hips, pulling you a bit closer against his chest. You noticed how he scanned your face for any reactions, but since you liked it, he only found a smile.

Leaning down you put your lips softly against his, making him gasp quietly, but he immediately returned the kiss enthusiastically-maybe even a bit too enthusiastic. Once again it reminded you of the difference between your experiences and his. Or more the lack of them.

And yet somehow you really liked the sloppy and unskilled movements of his lips, getting more used to it with every second you were kissing him. You liked how he tried to mimic your lips, his kissing slowly becoming better. The kiss was gentle and slow, making your whole body tremble. You don’t remember the last time you kissed someone just for the purpose of kissing. It was just a kiss, soft and innocent, not even using tongue. Why this felt like the best kiss you ever had you couldn’t tell.

Steve’s hands found its way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, till you were flushed against him. Hesitantly he licked over your bottom lip, wanting to deepen the kiss. You opened your mouth, letting your tongue faintly slide against his, before exploring his mouth. This time he definitely felt even more uncertain what to do, just letting you dominate the kiss, till he started returning it as hotly as you.

Grinding faintly against him, you felt his hard length pressing against his pants, against your throbbing cunt. Only two pieces of clothing between your sexes.

Panting you broke off the kiss, needing some air, but you still stayed close, leaning your forehead against his. Steve was breathing heavily, unknowingly grinding his hard cock against your crotch. You grabbed his hands, pushing them slowly to your thighs, before letting them slide under your dress to your ass. “If you want we can continue in the bedroom, Stevie, but we need to talk about some things first”, you whispered, kissing his jaw.

“Yeah-let’s-yes please”, he whispered. Surprisingly he pulled you a bit closer against him and stood up with you-fuck, you hadn’t expected him to be so strong, but you liked it. You told him where to go, the bedroom door being kicked shut by Steve, while he placed you on the bed.

Chapter 4

Don’t worry, you’ll get your smut in the next one and it’s gonna be a lot👀

Thank you for reading!! I really hope you liked it, please let me know! Leave some feedback and reblog!❤️

Questions, thoughts or wanna talk? -> inbox!

[cyanide-latte]

TWST fic: they meet

Summary: (this one pretty much is what it says on the tin)

Word count: 1,165 words

Warnings: references to spiked drinks and ableism

Cleaned it up a tiny bit for posting. @inmateofthemind 's headcanon co-ed mage school (Corlux) is referenced here. Also featuring Kallisto's maiden name! I have so many feels about Chrysanthos's parents I need to just write the two of them together as much as possible, this is just the first one, and no, I am not apologizing, you can't make me.

—————

“Don't drink that.”

“Huh?”

The stranger didn't offer any further explanation until they'd made it out to the terrace, and even then she didn't say a word until she'd plucked the glass from Ilias’s hand and tossed the entire thing over the railing and into the hedges down below. Ilias stared down, openmouthed and flabbergasted for perhaps the first time in his adult life, as she spoke again.

“Sorry if I made a scene or put you on the spot back there,” she began.

“You just—” he stammered, his voice very, very small and full of shock and awe. “That was crystal— a Jupiter family g— and you— threw—”

“If they want to get their chitons in a twist over one little glass, let them,” she said, letting out a small huff and adjusting the large glasses on her face. “They don't scare me. Besides, I didn't see any of them trying to call out Adonias for harassing you, or his buddies for spiking your drink when he did. And my jaw would've hit the floor if any of them actually stepped in to stop you from drinking it.”

A chill raced up his spine, a chill that quickly morphed into an icy anger. So that was it. He should have suspected that there was more to the mocking and harassment than simply trying to make him lose face in front of literally everyone. Inhaling deeply, Ilias breathed out, trying to release some of the immediate tension and regain his usual cool composure. Well, Adonias had lost on both fronts today, and while they were small victories, they were still victories.

He turned to regard his strange savior, who was also turning to look him over.

“To whom do I owe my thanks?” he asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth fast before he could worry about seeming rude.

The woman jolted, her eyes going huge behind the glasses and her face turning a bit pink.

“I- I'm Kallisto. Kallisto Euphemia,” she answered, all the rock-solid confidence from a moment before now gone from her voice. “And, I'm guessing you are…” She trailed off, abruptly looking down at her shoes.

“Adonias thinks he's funny, using the same nickname he teased me with in middle school,” Ilias muttered. “I appreciate you not laughing.”

“A-anyone who thinks calling someone else ‘mentally ill-ias’ is funny,” she said, her voice just a touch steadier this time, “can sit on a cactus.” Clearing her throat, she asked, “Your name is Ilias?”

“Of the Shroud family,” he confirmed tiredly, resting his elbows on the balustrade. “The guests none of the ‘great’ families want at their parties. I'm sure you saw my brothers inside at some point.”

Kallisto walked a little closer, linking her hands in front of her in a demure way that appeared very practiced. “You think nobody wants you at their parties? Why?”

He let out a soft snort. “That's just a fact of life for us,” he said, without animosity or condescension. “The twelve great houses and all the lesser houses never are happy about needing to invite the Shroud family to anything, even the strictly necessary stuff. It's always been that way, and that's not counting if the Jupiter family gets a patriarch who finds it more convenient to just forget to invite us.”

Kallisto let out a grumpy hum of consideration.

“Anyway, thanks for the save. I owe you one. Sorry for spoiling the fun.”

“Y-you didn't spoil—”

Ilias turned and looked at her, smiling ruefully, and her mouth shut with a click. He nodded, having expected as much. “Yeah, I did, I know,” he said, sighing and standing up straight again as he looked at her. Neither notably short or tall, with hair the color of dishwater up in a messy bun, dark blue eyes and deeply tan skin. The glasses and her nondescript, unflattering clothes made it difficult to tell at first, but she seemed to have a round face that balanced out a full mouth and somewhat chubby figure. She stood very poised and rigid—maybe she was a Corlux alumnus?—and looked like she was trying very hard to embody plainness enough to blend in with whatever wallpaper she stood near.

Something about it felt forced or false, or both.

Ilias slid his hands into his pockets and turned to walk away. It was the safer bet.

Still, he couldn't act like a total asshole.

“Have fun at the party or whatever,” he said over his shoulder.

“Wait, you're leaving?!”

She sounded genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, this scene blows,” he answered. No point in not being honest. “Not worth my time. Besides, my brothers will find me later, so it's no big deal if the middle child goes AWOL for a while.”

He continued towards the stairs that led down from the terrace, ready to make a fast escape, but apparently Kallisto wasn't easily deterred.

“Wait a sec!”

He paused and looked back over his shoulder. What was up with her anyway? If she truly was anything like how she tried to appear, then this stupid party wasn't something she gelled with either.

“What?” he asked, withholding a sense of irritation.

“Do you—” she started, then stopped, incoherent noises coming out of her mouth and growing increasingly higher in pitch until, haltingly, she managed to speak. “Would you- like to, er- go? Get a be-v’rage? At a place??”

Ilias blinked rapidly, baffled. “Huh?”

Kallisto helplessly pointed at herself, him, the hedges where she'd tossed his glass, back to him, and then between him and herself, her face going redder and redder by the second.

“I-I-I uh, I um. I owe you? A drink?” she finally said.

He blinked again, slower this time.

He had…

No clue what to make of this woman.

Still, she was being a hell of a lot nicer to him than anyone from any of the other houses had ever been. Euphemia…the name tickled at the back of his mind but he couldn't place what family that was or where they ranked among the others.

He looked her over again, and maintained in his own mind that the image she was presenting was almost totally at odds with whatever she was trying to hide. And yet, he felt a small spark of intrigue. Besides, crafted mousy appearance and all, she was—he had to admit it—cute.

“Yeah, okay,” he answered at last. “Sure.”

A look of utterly stunned surprise came over her. “Uh?”

“Let's go,” he said. “Get a beverage at a place.”

He turned back and started down the stairs, hearing her follow a moment later.

“You're buying,” he added, feeling like she probably needed a reminder. Whatever confusion he'd dealt her probably had temporarily fried her brain.

“If I do,” she said carefully, “will you answer some questions for me?”

He shrugged. “Depends on the questions, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “Might also depend on the drink.”

“I'll- I'll be s-sure to er, indulge you, then.”

—————

Taglist: @elenauaurs @blithesharem @tixdixl @inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @ramshacklerumble @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for my writing and posts about my OCs!)

[yourlocalmikankinnie]

Ohshit request are open for a limited time I’m doin my favorite HC I aint missing this shit

may I request headcannons for Maki, Mikan, Mahiru, and Kaede

as older sisters (platonic of course stfu pedos) catching her little brother in the middle of a fight with a kid from his middle school he hates? And lil bro aint losing by any means He’s actually like, REALLY fucking the other kid up; swollen eye, missing teeth, bloody mouth and nose, you name it. They’re in the middle of a field and there’s multiple kids also from the school recording the fight. The lil bro is undamaged for the most part, with a couple of minor cuts, scrapes, and bruises. When he notices his big sis is present he literally goes “Aw shit….”. How do you think they’d intervene IF YOU THINK THEY WOULD?

Anyway hope your break is going well and I had a quick question if you don’t mind me asking; what happened to your poetry blog? If it’s personal or something like you don’t gotta answer. Okay have a great day

Hi! I can absolutely do this! And it's going alright! I had deleted my poetry blog tbh, I haven't really posted anything on it so I felt like it was a bit of a storage box just sitting there 💀 but maybe I'll make it again, it depends 😘

Thank you so much for requesting! ❤️

Characters: Maki, Kaedes, Mikan, Mahiru

(platonic, siblings)

Male reader but can be interpreted as gn or female if you so wish❤️

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Maki:

She shows up once she heard from Kaito and everything silences. If you saw the look on her face you'd be running (and people did-). She wasn't having it and told you to stop.

She then took you too see Mikan (she didn't trust the nurse at your school), she didn't give a shit about the other kid. Maki sat you down and told you,

"hey kid. Listen, as much as I'm proud of you for not losing the fight, you can't go around beating people up. Don't want you getting hurt. Okay? Be more careful"

After Mikan aided you she took you home (Mikan insisted it, she didn't want you getting more hurt than you are). Once you guys got home, y'all watched some TV till she had to go to work (assassin 🤭) and kaedes and kaito came over to hang out with you (Maki totally didn't tell them to check up on you while she was gone-🤫) she came home to you in bed asleep and kaito eating your chips 💀 he sure as hell learned a lesson from that

Mikan:

She ran as soon as she could to your school when she heard from one of your friends that you were in a fight.

She's disappointed but knows she can help you get better with her ultimate, so she takes you to her school because she's scared to leave you home alone while she's gone.

Once she patches you up, she asks her teacher is you can stay with her and ms.yukizome let's her. Once gotten home she lightly scolds you and tells you to eat and get some sleep.

"p-please get some sleep, I'm sorry for not coming sooner! I-ill try talking with your teacher about your classmate. Please don't try doing that again unless absolutely needed!"

She's a sweet sister, she just worries about you! ❤️🥺

Kaede:

She had got a call from the office after the fight and came to your school, she didn't really care if she missed class. shuichi would help her catch up with school work.

She scolded you once you guys got home. Your mom (if you have one, you can replace with your guardian) was home and She told her what happened. Let's just say you were in trouble 🥶

"little man 😡 you can't just go around fighting people. Don't do it again okay? Okay! Now go take a shower you stink"

Mahiru:

She got a phone call from the nurse in your school as your father wasn't answering the phone (she has daddy issues so you do too) and was angry. She walked all the way to your school to pick you up and then scolded you on your way home.

Once home she told you to clean up GENTLY while she cleaned and made dinner. She contemplated on getting one of her classmates to ensure your okay but decided against it since she didn't wanna bother them. Honestly you got off lucky in terms of the fight. Shed probably have to have a talk with the kids parents.

"listen. Your supposed to be the bigger person. I don't want to get anymore phone calls that you've been in fights. Got it?"

I hope you liked this!! ❤️ It was fun writing and I'm sorry for the delay on it

[serialcultist-edwardmunson]

Hostage/kidnapping Steddie AU

Steve is leaning against Eddies shoulder, breaths heavy, and there's a deep wheeze every intake that’s a bit worrying,

“Hey, Stevie, you awake?” The breathing continues but he receives no verbal answer. He jostles steve's head with his shoulder gently, not wanting to hurt him anymore, “Steve, buddy, I need you to say something.” Steve takes an extra deep, extra wheezy breath in and lets out a grunt of acknowledgment. It's not much but Eddie thinks it's enough if that's all he's going to get from the beaten and bloodied man. Long moments pass, enough so that Eddie jumps when Steve finally speaks, not expecting the hoarse voice beside his ear,

“ ‘mokay, Ed. Think I got a concussion. ‘Vrything spinning.” He sighs. Eddie goes through his mental checklist of what he knows about concussions which isn't much, “Okay, Steve, I need you to stay awake, we gotta make sure you don't fall asleep on me.” He says shakily.

Steve signs deeply again, “I know… but I'm just so…” he sighs a third time, “tired… gonna shut my eyes… for just a minute…” Eddie knows for a fact Steves eyes had already been shut, but he jostles the man harder,

“Nuh-uh, Sir. Can't do that, you gotta stay awake with me.” Eddie leans his head forward, looking at Steves face as best he can in the dim light. Purpling bruises covering almost the entirety of his face, his eyes swollen, but he can see those brown eyes peeking at him from where hes sitting and staring, his eyes tracking Eddies movements, “Hiya, Stevie.” Eddie whispers, trying hard to keep the fear from shaking his voice. Steve swallows audibly and his tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips,

“Hi, Eddie.” He croaks in response. He blinks slowly, his eyes taking ages to open again, “c’nyou do me a favor…?” He looks at Eddie pleadingly.

Eddie's brow furrows, “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says. He can see steve react to the pet name, but as mangled as he is, Eddie can't tell if it's a positive or negative reaction. Eddie shifts his arms behind him awkwardly, sending an extra curse to the bastard that tied his wrists at such a sharp angle.

Steve nestles into Eddies shoulder a bit more once the metalhead is done squirming, “if i don't make it…” Eddie shakes his head, putting a stop to the conversation quickly,

“Nope, no way, Steve, we're making it out of here together.” Steve let out a small grunt of disapproval,

“need you t’listen, ed. need you t’know.” Eddie cant look at steve anymore and leans his head back against the wall, feeling tears prickle his eyes. He gulps, trying to drown the golf ball sized lump in his throat,

“what is it you need me to know.” Eddie asks, his voice catching. Steve takes another wheezy beeath and shifts his head,

“V’got a will. N’my closet. Red box.” Eddie gives a distressed whine and shakes his head, snapping his eyes shut tight. He rests his cheek on the top of Steves head. Its like if he gets close enough to him, he can make this discussion go away. Eddie sucks air in through his nose,

“You've got a will?” Steve's response is another wheeze. He moves as if to bury his eyes into Eddies shoulder but whimpers in pain from his bruised face instead, opting back to facing forward,

“had to, after t’second time ‘round” Eddie can hear the hitch in the man's voice and curses his bound arms for rendering him unable to pull steve into his arms,

“what do you need me to know about it for?” Eddie asks innocently, too afraid to speak of the reality of the situation. Steve shrugs minutely,

“Odds cant run n’my favor forever. J’sncase.” He slurs.

(Ill probs post a part 2? Maybe???)

[lilsqueaks]

Agere!Orel headcanons-!

absolutely fixating on this show.. aghh hes baby!! (sorry for any typos n all) hcs under the cut!

cw: passin ment of abuse, nothing detailed.

☀️ i see him regressing to like.. toodler maybe even younger.. 3-6 age range maybe. Going back to before he was a preteen, mainly involuntary

☀️ regressing allows him to go back to a time where he was overly trusting, naive, and just!! A little kid!! Before he got hurt!! But this time he has people that care and keep him safe! He gets to play and have fun!

☀️ I don't think hed have a.. solid caregiver(?) Of course he has joe/christina/steph/rev to keep an eye on him when hes feeling little, just to make sure hes safe. But for the most part! He likes to play and regress alone!

☀️ has a little corner of the room made for when he regresses.. a lil tent packed with little cubbies for his toys and plushies. If not hes sat on the floor in the living room so he can babble with others.

☀️ super talkative. Asks a million questions and all of them are lovingly answered no matter how out there!

☀️ since his own childhood was unsafe, i think he watches a lot of children's shows (sometimes he keeps them on in the background when not regressed) and reads little kid books, at first it started as a way to see what a normal family is like but he ended up loving a lot of them! (He's a big bluey fan!)

☀️ tummy time will especially bring out the baby in him, you set him down on his stomach and hes kicking his legs in baby mode seconds later.

☀️ lovesss coloring books. Had a billion of them! He especially loves coloring with others, steph ends up finger painting with him a lot, using chalk on the driveway with shapey is always fun to do!

☀️ still keeps his love for stop motion although its very tricky to do it while regressed.. so he plays with legos and wooden toys instead! He can spend hours making silly models out of clay and playdough! He also loves doing puzzels

☀️ speaking of steph i know she sings the best lullabies and songs to him! He loves sitting down and watching her strum her guitar!

☀️ Rev Putty also keeps an eye on him, lets him run around the curch or his office, he loves orel like hes his own son! Sits him on his knee and reads story books to him, orel is especially fond of any textured books with flaps and popups to touch and play with!

☀️ Joe is Orels playdate! They usually partake in parallel play or watch cartoons together, joe can be a bit more rougher when they play but they still enjoy eachother company (ill have to make joe his own hc post soon...

☀️ LOVES LOVES animals. already has a soft spot for them but when hes small. he goes crazy for them! so many plushies. specfically of deer n dogs and birds! steph and rev take him to trips on butterfly gardens n zoos bc of it! and take time to dip into a pet shop so he can see the animals

[shxwstxpper]

KAI DREW RETURNS!

❝ why don't you sit right down and stay a while? we like the same things, and i like your style! it's not a secret, why do you keep it? i'm just sitting on the shelf! ❞ - WHY DO YOU LET ME STAY HERE?, SHE & HIM, 2008

hey everyone! it’s been a while, huh? :]

i missed being me! being stuck in that void SUCKED. it was dark, cold, the passage of time was irrelevant, and for some reason hamilton was always playing??? it sucked. i almost went insane. might actually be a bit crazy…

i forgot a lot of things while i was in there, including a few things about myself, so forgive me if i’m a bit slow :]

so, to remind me who i am, as well as to reintroduce myself: have an intro!

hello there!!! my name’s Kai Drew!

im 17 years old! i’ll be 18 in august :]

im aroace, im agender, and i use she/her pronouns! :D

im a professional singer and dancer! i also really like doing theatre, and I love mechanics!

i have a slew of mental issues that don’t need naming (just think of that one image: “he has 97 mental illnesses and is banned from most public spaces”), and i have fibromyalgia + narcolepsy! :]

Update: ...it turns out i am autistic. goddamnit

my favorite food is grilled cheese sandwiches, and my favorite drink is strawberry lemonade!

i like psych, ride the cyclone, some commentary youtubers, and anything 1920’s!

I guess that’s all from me :]

BUT NOT FROM ME!!!

Yeah that’s right!!!! I’m still hereeee!!!

You think I’d leave????? HA!!! laughable.

Never would I be so stupid to let my leading lady go (fully)! You all should know better.

I need no introduction, you all know me.

the apotheosis is upon us + it’s inevitable + L + ratio + come to the starlight!!! :3c [EDIT: DON’T?? PLEASE??? ] DONT LISTEN TO THE EDIT!!! [EDIT: Ignore him.] NUH UH

why is this blue asshole still here. SHUTTUP!!!

blog ran by KAI! and POKOTHO! stop.

for more information about Kai Drew, read The Kai Who Didn’t Like Musicals. whats that? don’t worry about it.

for info regarding the upcoming production of TKWDLM, look here. for info regarding the cast of TKWDLM, look here. for info regarding the timeline, look here. for info regarding ‘Save The Children’, the charity which Kai concert proceeds are going to (EDIT: recomends you donate to!) [ooc: a charity mentioned within rp that you can actually donate to!], look here. ^WHY’D YOU CHANGE THAT?!? I’M NOT DOING A CONCERT??? for info regarding acknowledgments, look here.

STOP CROSSING THINGS OUT!!!! >:1 NO!??? IM GONNA CROSS OUT YOUR EVIL SHIT???? >:[

TAGGING SYSTEM: #kaiposting - posts where Miss Kai Drew is talking! #posts from the black and white - posts where ghost!kai is talking! text in these posts will be in small italics and signed with her name! #apothoposting - posts where infected!kai/Pokotho is talking! text/dialogue in these posts will be colored blue, unless i forget! #pastriiposting - posts where the admin, @pastriibunz, is talking! text in these posts will be italicized (unless i forget), and the ‘ooc’ + ‘ooc post’ tags will be alongside it! #answers from the black, white, and blue - posts where asks get answered! the proper tags for which character is speaking will be added! any tag before/ending with ‘~ Kai’ - in character tags! these tags are how Kai communicates while Pokey controls her account fully. #starlit songbird - the tag I will be using for the TKWDLM rp! feel free to use it to categorize the TKWDLM rp from your own rps! #[username] - these tags are used to categorize rps!