#like going to anyone's house and seeing their nice rugs always tricks me into thinking there must

[emilypemily]

some kind accursed magicks that area rugs irl always look so nice but when you look online at area rugs they are always the most ugly horrible things you have ever seen in your entire life

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

[baekhyuq]

"Princess." Baekhyun (M)

Slasher Ghost Face!Baekhyun

(Halloween One shot)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 5k

Mini Playlist:

Psycho - Baekhyun

Softcore - The Neighbourhood

She’s My Collar - Gorillaz

Pour Up - DEAN

Summary: There's some strange man outside your window?

The cold night brought out all the monsters, including himself. Baekhyun knew he was awful, in an awful world full of awful people. But when he saw you…he didn’t see anything but you. You were gorgeous, his treasure hidden in a cruel world. He saw you everyday, without fail. If he couldn’t see you that day, he went to your house. Standing outside your window, looking in. He always wore a mask to never be identified, with black clothing. He wore a scream mask, and his hoodie always over his head. He looked as if he were a trick or treater celebrating early.

Baekhyun felt his stomach do a back flip when he peered into your window to see you sat reading a book. Your mouth was moving, probably reading out loud. He wished to hear you voice say his name, to call out to him. You were in a t shirt that was all, he could see your bare legs. Drooling over the sight Baekhyun looked around the room. You decorated for halloween, it was vibrant and festive. He admired your spirit for the holiday, he wanted to dress you up. He had many costumes in mind, he stopped in thought. A bride? Or maybe a cat? He would decide when the time would come. You would love whatever he chose, he knew it. You’re drinking some sort of alcohol from the looks of it, it makes Baekhyun pout. He hated drinking, it was disgusting.

“Ah…” He says as you stand, your legs on full display. He loved seeing bits of you at a time, he didn’t want to see everything. That would ruin the element of surprise. Seeing your legs like this was a blessing, his heart thumped at the sight as you walked into another room. Baekhyun called it quits and left, walking home. He was satisfied, he would leave you to your night.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, you had been experiencing it for months now. But you never found anyone or anything. It made you anxious, constantly. You tucked your hair behind your ear as you wrote down everything you needed to study. Your lecture notes were always scribbled mess. So you would come to the library after class to rewrite them, so they were legible for studying.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you felt the feeling again. You looked around the library discreetly looking for anyone looking your way. The place was almost empty, safe for the random student studying, he had headphones on so you doubted he was paying attention to you. You went back to jotting down notes, finish the rest of them and packing up. You exited the library, seeing it was now late, you had to walk home in the dark. Something you despised.

When you left you never heard the door close behind you, turning back to see if it was caught on the rug. To your surprise it was a man dressed in black walking from the library, he had white hair and wore glasses. He was pretty cute if he wasn’t in such a rush you would’ve talked to him. You shook your head laughing to yourself. You always flirt when guys you thought were attractive. It caused you to be a heart throb for many men when they realized they weren’t going to get anywhere with you. You walked down your street, almost home when you heard footsteps behind you. You quickly turned around, seeing the man from earlier.

“Hey- not to scare you.” He says flashing a smile at you, your heart melts at the sight.

“Well Hi.” You joke, “You scared me.” you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I saw you leaving the library and I regretted not saying anything.” He laughs at himself.

“I was just thinking about how attractive I thought you were. But you seemed in a hurry, so I didn’t get to let you know.” You look up at his dark eyes, they have bags under them.

The man shakes his head laughing, he reaches out his hand. “Well nice to meet you how about we start with names?” He asks.

You grab his hand, shaking it softly. “Y/n, and you are?”

“Baekhyun.” He showed another sharp smile, canines on full display.

“Well, Baekhyun you have a charming smile.” You compliment.

“It’s very late, are you heading home?” Baekhyun asks looking down the sidewalk.

You nod, “Of course, where else would I be going this late. Definitely not going out party after studying for hours.” You laugh at your own joke. “How about you? Heading home.”

“Yeah, I live down this way.” Baekhyun grins.

“Perfect, you can walk me to my house. I was debating walking in the dark, since so many women are abducted at this time. In situations like this.” You comment as you begin to walk. Baekhyun follows beside you, hands in his pockets.

“I understand, definitely would want that.” He comments, “So how long have you been doing to this school?” He asks, he knew the answer.

“About 2 years?” You think for a second before answering. “How about you?”

“I just transferred.” Baekhyun lies. “I was touring the campus last month. I decided to come here since it was closest to home.” He couldn’t believe himself sometimes.

“Beats driving to school, gas is expensive right now.” You try to joke, it makes Baekhyun chuckle.

“So..” He says as you approach your house and walk up the stairs. “Is it possible to get your number?” He looks at you biting his lip in anticipation.

You hold your hand out, and he places his phone in your hand. You put in your contact when you see a message pop up.

“Are you done with her yet?”

You thought it was weird but brushed it off, whatever that was is his business. Giving his phone back to him you smile, waving. “Goodnight then, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun walked home, swiping through your instagram as he did usually. He was lucky it wasn’t private. He stopped on your recent post, a picture of you at a cafe shop in town. A thought popped into his head, he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Smirking to himself he shook his head in disbelief.

“Maybe I’ll stop by tonight, tonight will be the night.”

He soon was home and he changed instantly, putting his mask on and his hood over his head. He left, walking down the same street you lived on. He made his way to the back of your house, he knew you always forgot to lock the back door. He slid it open, allowing himself in. He could hear you in the shower upstairs. He had plenty of time then, you showered for almost an hour each time he decided to come over, uninvited.

Baekhyun made his way to your room, his fingers brushing over the duvet on your bed. He opened your dresser drawers, seeing your many options for panties. He picked one, a red lacy thong, putting it in his pocket. He would savor those later. His boots squeaked quietly on the wooden floor, it was annoying to him. He sat on your bed, picking up your pillow and hugging it tightly.

Suddenly he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. His heart stopped, he dashed to your closet, closing the door behind him. He could see through the slits in the door, waiting to see you peer into the room.

You looked around the room, you were wrapped in a towel. You looked through your dresser for something to wear, you pulled out a see through dress. He’s seen you wear it plenty of times, and he loved when you wore it. You dropped your towel, slipping the dress on over your perfect figure. He saw you reach for your phone, posing in front of the mirror taking pictures. Your head dropped to look at your phone as if you were typing. His brows furrowed, who could possibly be getting sent those pictures? Who did she think was that deserving? His phone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out seeing a text back from you. He simply texted Hey and you replied now with a “Whats up?”.

He typed back quickly, “Nothing much, watching entertainment. You?” He grinned to himself, this was too funny.

“Just showered, I don’t know what to do next. Home work or just binge watch TV.” Your reply made him genuinely smile.

“Go watch TV, you deserve it.”

He watched your reaction through the closet slits. You shook your head, a grin on your lips. You sat on your bed, clicking on your television. His eyes widened, he didn’t think you would watch it in your bedroom. He thought maybe the living room? So he could escape this tiny closet. He cursed himself, bringing his knees up, resting his head on his propped up hand.

At least he had a show.

He watched your hand rest over your thigh, rubbing it up and down. What were you doing? He knew when he saw your hand dip between your thighs. He sighed shaking his head, of course he would be trapped in here and tortured as you got off. With out him. He heard your first moan, it was quiet. Then a second one, more loud and finally a call of somebodies name. Oh? What was that?

“Baekhyun…” You moaned loudly.

He couldn’t believe his luck, he took off his mask and sat it beside him. He dragged a hand down his face in agony, this was legit torture to his soul. He wanted to be what was between your thighs, not your slender little fingers. He wanted to kiss the freckle on your leg and brush over the birth mark on your tummy.

His hand traveled over his abs, stopping right above the hem of his pants. Should he? No.. He should wait till he got home. But he couldn’t resist when you were right here. He didn’t have to imagine you moaning his name. He heard it loud and clear, multiple times. Letting his hand under the hem of his pants he palmed himself through his boxers. Biting his lip as he watch you push up the see through dress you wore. It was meaningless to wear it when it was so see through and short. But he loved it.

Your fingers moved faster, and his hand moved just as fast. He quietly grunted and saw you jump in your bed. You stopped, looking at your closet door. His eyes widened, he held his breath when you stood up. You slowly walked closer and closer. Baekhyun had to think fast.

He typed something in a text to you. Your phone dinged immediately, scaring you again. You turned around looking at your phone and back to the closet. You walked back to your bed, picking up your phone.

“What are you up to?” He had typed. He let out a breath of relief when you stepped away, he needed to get out of here.

“I’m masturbating to the thought of you. Is that too forward?”

He could believe what he was reading. He didn’t know you could be this vulgar and honest. Typing back quickly he sent his text, smirking.

“So we’re both doing the same thing?”

You screamed happily, startling Baekhyun.

“I need a picture, desperately.” You texted him. He had to think quickly.

“How about I come over?” Brilliant.

You thought for quite some time before texting back.

“Sure. Remember which house?”

“Of course.”

Baekhyun’s heart pounded against his rib cage. Was he really about to pull this off? You hoped off your bed, changing once more. He watched every article of clothing you put on, expecting to be the one taking them off finally. You left the room, presumably to wait in the living room as you turned off your bedroom light. Baekhyun moved quickly, leaving the room and sliding out the back door. He made his way to the side of your house, seeing you in the living room indeed waiting. A cup of wine in one hand, and the other scrolling on your phone.

Baekhyun took his mask and stuffed it into the bushes hiding it. He walked up to the front door, brushing off his clothes before knocking. You opened the door seconds later, smiling up at him. Baekhyun’s heart jumped out his chest when you grabbed his arm and dragged him in. He hadn’t been in the house this way before.

“Well hello again.” You say giggling, maybe it was the wine?

“Good evening. Have you been drinking?” He asked, you nod.

“Would you like some, it’s just wine.” You offer Baekhyun your own cup. He takes it, downing the rest of the glass. “I know you did not just take that like a vodka shot.” You snicker, Baekhyun shrugs.

“It was okay.”

“Now…” You say, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Let’s talk about this tension.” You pulled him closer, his lips meters away. You were looking into each others eyes deeply. You smelled his shower gel, he smelled like strawberries. How contrasting to his dark attire, he looked so attractive in. You were the one to lean up and kiss him, the kiss felt like fire Baekhyun always saw in your eyes. He always imagined how soft your lips would be, soft and sweet. He became rough quickly, grabbing your jaw and bringing you closer.

“How bad do you want it?” He says looking down at your desperate eyes.

“I want it desperately, please.” You words pleased Baekhyun, he drops your jaw.

“Show me to your room then princess.” You grin, biting your lip before grabbing his hand. He watched your ass as your leg him to your room. Your swaying hips hypnotizing him. You turned on the light, sitting on the edge of your bed. Baekhyun closed the door, walking up to your slowly. He caressed your cheek, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks down at you with so many ideas, what should he do first? Chain you up? He knew you owned a pair of handcuffs. That would be too much for the first time..

He thought longer, stroking your soft skin. “Tell me what you want princess.”

You looked up at him before taking his thumb into your mouth.

“Understood.” He took in a quick breath as you reached for the hem of his pants. You undid them quickly, pushing them out the way along with his boxers. Your slender hands grabbed him, he sighed when you wrapped your lips around him slowly.

“Fuck, you’re good at this hmm?” He praised as you continued, you slide your hands under his shirt and he got the hint. He stripped his hoodie, revealing his toned and muscular abdomen and biceps. You drooled over the sight, sucking eagerly. You wanted to touch every inch of this man, he was so handsome and irresistible.

He held your hair from your pretty face as he watched himself disappear into your mouth and down your throat so effortlessly. You watched as his muscles flexed when he gripped your hair tighter, restricting himself from forcing himself down your throat. You thought it was gentlemanly of him.

“You look so hot from this angle, it makes me want to sit on your face.” You whisper to him, “I want you to eat me out with those lips. Please.”

Baekhyun’s dick twitches at your words, “Since you asked so nicely, princess.” He lays in the middle of the bed, pulling you to straddle his face. His dream of being between your thighs was happening. In the best way possible, he could taste and smell how aroused you were. He knew you didn’t need foreplay when you played with yourself earlier. You were dripping wet at this point, he pulled you down by your thighs. You sighed when he attached his lips to your clit, the stress leaving your body.

You moaned out when he sucked harshly, circling his tongue. “You’re good at this hmm?” You mocked, grabbing his hair. “The roles are reversed now aren’t they?” You kept teasing him. Baekhyun loved this version of you challenging him. But he also loved putting you in your place. He smacks your ass, earning a surprised shriek from you. It causes him to smirk, he knew you would falter with the amount of pressure.

“You’re mean.” You pouted on top of him. Baekhyun furrowed his brows.

“Do you want me to show you mean, Princess?” He challenged. It was when you nodded with pouting lips that he had you on your back with your knees pressed to your chest. “Dont go back on your word.” He smirks, taking his length in his hand. He rubbed the tip over your clit, smacking it teasingly. He loved hearing the sounds emit from your writhing figure. Your clit became sensitive to his touch as he repeated his actions. You were jerking at the oversensitivity, not being able to cum from just that.

“Mmm, what’s wrong princess?” He caresses your cheek pouting down at you. “Need more than that?” You nod up at him, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please give me more, I’ll be good.” Your words grant your wish. Baekhyun pushes your legs up, exposing your cunt to him. It being squeezed from your legs pressed together into your chest. He spits on your cunt, and you feel it slide down your lips. You quiver at the sensation, never experiencing something like that before. Baekhyun rubs his tip over your clit once more before pushing in. His cock stretches you and rubs your tight walls, he sighs as he bottoms out. He wraps his arms around your legs, holding them up so he can go even deeper. You feel it when he does, moaning loudly.

“Only say my name Princess.” He scruffs your chin. You look at him with dazed eyes, nodding.

You feel your bottom half of your body being held even higher in the air as he thrusts faster and faster. The sounds of wet skin meeting fills the entire room. The smell of sex is heavy and you’re both becoming sweaty from the act. Baekhyun sits back on his knees, letting your bottom half almost drop from how high it was, onto his cock. He bit his lip when you moaned out his name.

“Be still.” He said sternly, pressing a hand on your tummy. He pulled out and slowly pushed in. “Do you feel that?” He looks down at you, messy hair and heavy lids. You nod. “That’s my cock filling you.”

“It’s the best feeling ever.” You say in a daze.

“Better than your fingers?”

“Fuck yes.”

He grinned, rolling his hips into you slowly. He felt you clenching on him tightly he could see the raise and fall of your chest. He knew you were about to be close. He slide his slender hands under your shirt, on your waist then over your breast.

“Fuck..Baekhyun touch me more.” You sighed when his fingers pinched your nipple as he rolled his hips into you. The combination made you feel fucked out your mind. “P-please. Ple-ease Baekhyun. B-baekhyun.” You couldn’t think of any other words, not forming a sentence.

He loved the look on your face, tears brimming your eyes. “I want you to cum, right now.” He leaned down to whisper before sitting back up. He placed his thumb over your clit, thrusting into you faster.

Your brows pinched together, his words repeated in your head.

“Come on Princess, I know you love taking this cock.” He said so vulgarly, he bit his lip grinning. His eyes were on your closed ones. “Look at me.” He commands. Your eyes flutter open, causing Baekhyun’s heart to pound. “Just like that.” He felt himself coming closer to his orgasm the more he spoke to you, he loved watching you follow his commands.

“I think…I’m going to-“ You’re cut off by Baekhyun’s hand grabbing your throat. He comes closer, now laying between your legs.

“Stay just like this, Princess.” He whispers, brushing his lips by your ear. He held you in place by his hand on your neck, rolling his hips deliciously slow. The slow and hard grinding made you lose your mind, you were so close. One simple thing would blow you right over. Baekhyun placed kisses on the side of your neck, whispering dirty things as he went. That was what sent you over the edge. You called out his name as you came al over his cock. Baekhyun moaned, before violently thrusting into you. His hands both wrapped around your neck, he fucked the breaks off of you. Your legs were becoming sore the longer this went on. You were overwhelmed by how sensitive your body came, Baekhyun’s thrusting was only making it more sensitive. Baekhyun noticed and slowed down before he stopped, leaning back on his knees. He grabbed his cock, jerking himself off as he looked over the sight of your tired state. He felt himself become light headed as he came all over your stomach. He held himself up with one hand before falling beside you, his chest heaving.

You turned on your side, placing your hand over his chest. A grin on your lips as you kisses his shoulder. “Tired?” You asked.

He nodded, resting his hand over his abdomen. “You’re a work out.” He joked. “I think I’ve died and went to heaven.”

You sat up, looking down at him. He looked back with tired eyes, his lips parted. His eyes dipped down to your chest then your thighs.

“Baekhyun, I know.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Know what?”

“About you.” You whispered, running your hand down his chest and over his abdomen. He paused, looking back up at you.

“What about me?” He continued, he was becoming nervous.

“That you watch me.”

His heart jumped out his chest, he shot up in bed. You put a finger to his lips, pushing him back down by his chest. You swung your leg over his body, straddling him.

“I can see you through my windows Baek. When I saw you wearing the same thing you wore to come spy on me, I knew it was you.” You leaned forward, your clit laid right on his dick. He sucked in a breath, he could only choose to stay quiet as you spoke. “I was so scared the first time I saw you.” You felt his dick twitch under you. “But…” You caressed his cheek brushing your thumb over his lips. “I kind of liked it.”

His eyes grew wide, “You liked it?” He said in disbelief.

You nod, “I always thought to myself, who’s behind that mask?” You slowly started moving your hips over Baekhyun’s slowly hardening cock. “Then I saw you at the library. I know you’ve never been to that school. You didn’t even have the school uniform on.” You laughed, the noise music to Baekhyun’s ears. “But now that we’ve finally met, I’m glad you’re good looking.” You smirk down at him.

“When are you going to call the cops? When you’re done grinding on me?” He challenged.

Your smirk only grew, “No. I’d like to have you around, you’re charming. It would be a waste to put someone so handsome in prison.” You pouted at him. “But now, I just want to fuck.” You brought your lips to his neck, kissing right below his ear. Baekhyun’s eyes shut in bliss, his mouth falling open.

“I want to make you submit.” You whispered, licking up his neck. “It’s my turn now, baby.”

Baekhyun could wrap his mind around how much of a 180 this whole situation took. His dick was hard as ever, pressing right up against your clit. You rolled your hips, sighing at the feeling. The sticky mess being made right beneath you was loud. You were still sensitive from climaxing so hard, you were sure Baekhyun was the same. It wouldn’t take long before you would be doubling over from another one. Baekhyun’s hands held your hips, his slender fingers tracing a line up and down your back. You shivered at the sensation.

“You feel so good just sitting on my cock, I could stay like this forever.” He sighed, his head lolled to the side exposing more of his neck.

“I love seeing you like this.” You sat up slightly to take in his vulnerable state. “You look so innocent, it turns me on.” Your hand traveled to his hair, running through his white locks. “What would make this better is that fucking mask of yours.” You sighed. You had a mask kink, another reason you were intrigued by Baekhyun.

Baekhyun opens his eyes looking at you, you look like the definition of sin. “I took it off before I came in.”

“…Where?” You asked. “I want it.”

His eyes widened, “its in the bushes but you’re naked-“

You left the room before he could finish, rushing to the door. He shook his head, a grin appearing on his face. He closed his eyes waiting patiently, he couldn’t believe the luck he had.

“Come here.” You said causing him to open his eyes, the mask in your hand. Baekhyun stood from the bed in front of you, looming over you. Your legs shook at the sight of a completely naked Baekhyun. You reached up and put the mask over his head. You stepped back, biting your lip at the sight. “Handsome.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “I can’t believe this right now.” He said, his voice was so deep from being tired. It made you giggle, stepping closer to run your hands over his chest.

“After this you can sleep all you want.” You pat his peck, “But before..” You pulled his mask up just above his lips and kissed him. He was taken back before he moved his lips with yours. His hand came up to your waist, pulling you closer. Your breast pressed up against his chest made him groan. “I really wanted to do that.” You confessed before walking to the bed, dragging your nails crossed his chest. You bent over with your ass in the air, waiting. “I’m not going to wait all night Baekhyun, fuck me.”

Baekhyun grinned wordlessly followed your command, his hand grabbing and smacking your ass. You sighed at the sting, wanting him desperately now.

“What happened to making me submit?” Baekhyun teased from behind you, all thoughts of that went out the window when that mask came into the bedroom.

“Will you shut up.” You pouted, of course he would bring that up.

“Wouldn’t you like me to.” He pushed further. He swiped your clit with his finger getting a surprised gasp from you. Baekhyun couldn’t think why you would want him to wear such a mask while being fucked. Did you have a kink for this type of thing? Someone had to be mentally wrong to like the person who’s been stalking them. As if he had room to talk. He chuckled at the thought.

He positioned himself behind you, pushing into you slowly. You were still so wet after all this time? Baekhyun bit his lip, “Fuck, I won’t get use to this feeling.”

Your toes curled at the words, “I’ll let you, if you want. Anything for you.” You purred arching your back as he pressed his palm down your back.

“You’re invitation is too kind.” He whispered back, he would love to have this every night. That of course was only a day dream before this night. You pressed your ass back into him, desperately waiting for any kind of touch. Baekhyun took that as a cue, thrusting into you. He pulled you onto his dick so aggressively, a change from his slow hips rolling into you. His thrusts caused the bed to bump against the wall repeatedly.

“Mmm.” You moaned into a pillow trying to control yourself, his aggressiveness was turning you on. Your breast swung with each thrust, you grasped the sheets. Baekhyun held onto your hips so tightly you knew he would leave a mark. You could only ignore the pain from his cock stretching you out. Baekhyun leaned down, putting his hand on your neck. He used the hold on your neck to pull you back onto his dick even harder.

“Who’s cunt is this?” Baekhyun asks, looking down at your ass being pushed against him.

“Yours Baekhyun, all yours.” You moaned out, your brows furrowed as you focused on the feeling of him inside you.

“Correct.” He rewarded you by finishing inside of you, his cock throbbing in you.

You whined as he pulled out, feeling empty. You felt his fingers replace his cock. He hooked his fingers inside you as he stepped to the side to see your worn out expression.

“Dont think I forgot about you Princess.” The nickname made you clench around his slender fingers. “Finish yourself on my fingers. Go on.” He commands.

You started fucking yourself on his fingers as he smacked your ass with his other hand. The sting felt amazing. Baekhyun appreciated the view, your round ass and the arch of your back. He admired the way you eagerly pushed back onto his fingers and the way your thighs jiggled. He held your hip, stilling your movements. He teasingly rubbed your clit, after only fingering you. Your thighs quivered at the sensitive nub being played with. Baekhyun observed the way your body reacted, he placed a kiss over your ass before leaning back up. He started moving his fingers inside you on his own, earning a moan from you and a jolt of your body. Were you orgasming? He couldn’t tell, he continued but felt your thighs shake and your walls clench around his fingers.

“Wait w-wait!” You turned your head pleading and grabbing his wrist. You fell against the bed exhausted, your grip on his wrist falling.

“It looks like you got what you wanted.” Baekhyun said, his voice deep. His fingers left your dripping cunt, he lifted them to his lips, pulling up the mask and licking them clean. “What a sweetie you are.” He chuckles, looking down at your spent form. “Get some rest.” He pulled off his mask, tossing it to the floor with his clothes. He kissed the middle of your back.

“You deserve it.”

[itsallyscorner]

Hello. Could I request a Chris Evans x reader, where they have a little girl and she finds out that peple kiss under the mistletoe. So she's always running around the house with it playing matchmaker (obviously everyone is taller than her) and she's like: "Now you have to kiss."

This is the cutest request!! Omg🥺❤️ Thank you, hun! I hope you enjoy it🎄❤️

💌.

Under The Mistletoe

Major dad!Chris

(Gif from @cevanscentral )

Ever since Chris had hung the mistletoe up in the living room’s doorway, it had always caught the curious eyes of your sweet Audrey. Your daughter, like her father, was always full of wonder and anticipated to learn new things. She was always curious about her surroundings and had a never ending amount of questions.

Lately, the mistletoe had been the subject of her thoughts. She would wonder what the purpose of the mistletoe was and why it was hung in the living room doorway instead of the tree. Sometimes the little girl would find herself standing underneath the mistletoe, staring up at it as she tried to come up with some kind of reason as to why it were there.

One day, Chris had found his daughter standing underneath the mistletoe, her big blue eyes sparkling from the lights of the Christmas tree a few feet away from her. A classic Christmas cartoon played on the tv, though it was long forgotten by Audrey.

“Hey jellybean, watcha up to?” He crouched beside his daughter as he followed her line of sight.

“It’s a mistletoe, bean. It comes out during the holidays and whoever is underneath the mistletoe gets a kiss.” He explained to her as he gathered her into his arms. He stood up, resting Audrey on his hip so she could touch the festive plant.

“Do they really need to be kissed?” She continued to quiz her dad.

“Do they really need to be kissed?” She continued to quiz her dad.

“Of course they need to be kissed! It would be a crime if someone doesn’t get kissed underneath the mistletoe!” Chris claimed causing the eyes of his daughter to widen. Suddenly, Audrey cups her dad’s face and presses a giant kiss onto his cheek.

“I can’t go to jail, dada! I’m too young!” His daughter says, a hint of fear in her voice. Chris lets out a heartfelt laugh at his daughter’s reaction. His other hand comes to land on his left pec as he continued to laugh.

You walk out of the laundry room, having just finished throwing in the wet clothes into the dryer.

“Mama!” You heard Audrey whine. You rush to where her voice came from, which was the living room. You enter the room to see Chris red in the face as he tried to stifle his laughs.

“What did you do?” You eyed the two loves of your life. A pout is on Audrey’s lips, her brows softly furrowed together.

“Mama, dada keeps laughing at me!” She wiggles her way out of her dad’s arms and crashes into your legs. Her face was tucked into your thigh in embarrassment.

“And why’s that, babe?” You ask her, running you hands in soothing circles on her back.

“Dada said that if you don’t give kisses under the mistletoe, you go to jail! So I kissed dada’s cheek and he laughed!” An adorable little pout was set on her lips, her arms crossed. You give a look towards Chris, who was now silently laughing in the corner.

“Babe, why’d you laugh at her?” You asked your husband, finding the situation slightly amusing. Knowing your husband, he had probably teased your little girl to the point where she grew upset at him.

“She literally said, ‘I can’t go to jail, I’m too young!’ And proceeds to just press kisses onto my face.” Chris explains through his laughter. A hint of a smile is on your lips, shaking your head at your husband. Crouching down to your daughter’s height you told her, “Don’t listen to half the things your dad tells you, he’s messing with you, bean. You’re not going to go to jail if you don’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe.”

Chris had calmed down and sat beside you on the floor. You daughter glares at him causing him to snort. You roll your eyes before nudging your husband’s shoulder.

“C’mon, babe. It’s funny, our daughter’s a comedian.” Chris sees the smile hinting at your lips, trying to get you to crack.

“Shut up.” You whisper to him through gritted teeth. “Now apologize, you dork.”

Chris tries to recollect himself before looking at Audrey seriously, “Jellybean, I am so sorry for laughing at you and tricking you. It hurt your feelings and I’m sorry.”

Audrey sighs before pressing a light peck on her dad’s forehead, “I forgive you.” Chris wraps his giant arms around your daughter and pulls her into a hug.

Over her shoulder, the goofy look comes back onto his face as he mouths, “So gullible.”

You quietly chuckle as your daughter pulls away from the hug. She turns back to you and a smile is on her face.

“Mama, can I have my own mistletoe?” She asks you, looking at you with those puppy eyes.

“What’s the harm?” You thought to yourself. It was just a plant and she would probably use it on her dolls or stuffed animals. She’ll probably forget about it in a few days.

“Course you can, I’m sure daddy has some leftover decorations in the garage. He might have another mistletoe.” You shrugged as she happily jumped around.

Boy were you wrong.

The mistletoe had become a hit with your daughter. To her, it was her most prized possession. She held onto the mistletoe everywhere she went and used it to her advantage. When she wanted kisses, she would ask one of you to carry her and she would hold the mistletoe to the best of her abilities above your heads. She even taught Dodger that when the mistletoe was above him, it meant a kiss on the cheek for Audrey. Or a lick to the face in Dodger’s eyes. You and Chris enjoyed the fact that something so simple could bring your daughter so much joy. Compared to the dolls and stuffed animals she had, nothing compared to the mistletoe.

Audrey had pride in her mistletoe and showed it off to everyone who entered the house. She made it her own mission to spread more love in the house by making everyone kiss each other with the mistletoe.

This year, Christmas Eve was being held at your household. Chris had suggested it since your shared home was bigger than the other’s houses. Because there were many additional rooms, his siblings and their kids would be able to stay the night for Christmas Day.

The house was full of chatter and Christmas energy. All the kids were running around from room to room as the adults yelled after them to be careful. Dodger was hanging out under the dining room table, taking a break from the energetic kids. The dining room table was full of food, Lisa had arrived at the house earlier in the day to get a headstart on the cooking. Together, the two of you had filled the table with multiple dishes and an assortment of sweets.

You were sat on the couch talking with Carly and Shanna, catching up with each other’s lives. Scott was with Chris, along with his new boyfriend, who was celebrating Christmas with the family this year.

You and Carly were talking about your kids. You had just mentioned the little mistletoe incident that happened a week ago with Audrey and Chris. “Is that why she’s been carrying that mistletoe around?” Carly asked as she motioned to your little girl. She was running around with her cousins, her styled hair now messy, dress sleeves falling past her shoulders, and the mistletoe still enveloped in her hand.

“Honestly, I didn’t know she would grow such an attachment to it. I thought she was going to get over it in a few days and jump on some new craze.” You laughed sipping on your wine.

“I think it’s cute!” Shanna chimed from beside you. The boys had moved into the living room after standing in the dining room. Chris shot you a wink from across the room as he talked to Carly’s husband.

Scott and his boyfriend approached the three of you, a toothy grin on both their faces.

“What are you girls gossipin’ about?” Scott presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls you into a tight hug.

“Oh yeah! This is Steve!” Scott motions to the man beside him who shyly waves at you. “Steve this is (y/n), my sister in law. (Y/n) this is Steve, my boyfriend!”

Instead of going in for a shake, you pulled Steve into a hug, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re glad to have you over for Christmas!” The Evans were really rubbing off on you.

“Likewise, thank you for having me!” Steve hugs you back. The two men sit on the rug as you all fall into a conversation. A half hour in and Audrey comes running into the living room. Her bright eyes spot her uncle Scott, as excitement bubbles in her stomach.

“Uncle Scott!” She runs up to him and wraps her short arms around his neck. Scott chuckles as he hugs his niece back.

“Uncle Scotty, look what I have!” Audrey holds the mistletoe up in pride. Scott’s mouth gaps as he sees the plant.

“Is that a mistletoe!” He moves the plant closer so that he’s getting a better look. What Scott doesn’t notice is that he’s moved the mistletoe directly above him and Steve.

“Yeah and look uncle Scott! You guys are under it!” She excitedly cheers. You see Scott and Steve both blush, you’re about to protest when Chris calls for his brother across the room.

“Scott, you know what that means!” Chris teases his younger brother from across the room.

With the encouragement from her father, Audrey says, “Now you have to kiss!”

Scott turns to Steve with a smile, “It’s a mistletoe, I don’t make the rules.” Steve agrees and the two share a peck on the lips. Everyone at the house cheers when they pull away. Satisfied, Audrey giggles at her work.

“Okay, little miss matchmaker. Back to your cousins, the adults are talking.” Scott teases Audrey as he nudges her back to the other kids.

“That’s my girl! Doin’ god’s work!” Chris cheers in pride as his daughter skips out the room. The holidays were about family and seeing his brother so happy made him happy. Without the help of your little girl, Scott probably would’ve never made the first move on Steve. It was a holiday miracle, thanks to that mistletoe.

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? part 11

[Full Masterlist] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All (Marked Chapters 18+) Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story.

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

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‘No girls or Jungkook’s allowed! ’

The sign on the door filled you with so much anger. You had to physically remember to breathe, it wouldn’t do to start yelling at the hybrids, they already felt inferior and vulnerable compared to humans. You never wanted them to feel weak, which is why you were mad. You didn’t care if they wanted to exclude you, but you would give the two young men a strong lecture for even thinking about excluding Jungkook.

“Jimin and Taehyung I would like to talk with you,” you ripped the sign down and tore it up. It would be best to dispose of the evidence before the young man saw it. Seeing his hyungs ignoring him would break him, “If you are upset talk to me and I will try to fix the situation.”

There was no response so you sighed walking away pushing the small lump in your throat down, you heard them whispering and thought maybe they needed time. It was after lunch that you began wondering if they planned to lock themselves up all day. Jungkook sat on the soft rug looking at the video games and he smiled setting up the controllers as he looked between two games.

“Which one do you think is better?” Jungkook asked Seokjin who took one of the controllers and smiled, he read both and grinned and you stepped over sitting on the floor picking up a controller.

“I can play right, I think Jimin and Taehyung are talking about some things,” You smiled, nuzzling his hair for a second and leaning back on Seokjin’s legs. “So what are we playing, I have never played before?”

Namjoon ended up joining and Yoongi took a seat on your spare side on the rug and leaned on one of Seokjin’s legs laughing at your expense. “You missed, he was right there and you missed, he shot you,”

“Look, I am a Minecraft kind of videogamer, you know the sims?” You puffed your cheeks flailing as you tried to shoot Namjoon who was doing a lot of shouting and not a lot of aiming either.

Everyone was in stitches. You almost forgot about the other two boys who were feuding with you. It was late and you had played a series of driving and shooting games and a game of Minecraft; where you all made a village and lived side by side and visited each other's houses with food and tools.

“I am hungry,” Jungkook pouted, pulling your sleeve and glancing at the dark kitchen. You looked at the time, and your mouth dropped open. “When is dinner?”

“Let’s order in, I can’t be bothered cooking,” You ordered a bunch of food, making sure to get Jimin and Taehyung’s favorite dishes so that you could lure them out. They would no doubt be hungry.

The food was delivered and as you removed the lids you named the dishes loudly hoping the two locked away in their room would emerge and eat something.

It’s super effective!

You smile as everyone digs in. The two boys were obviously mad and jealous that you had slept in Jungkook’s room and you wondered how you would possibly be able to fix this.

“I will take Wednesdays,” Yoongi smiled “I like Wednesdays”

“What is he talking about?” Hoseok asked he was just as confused by the white tiger's outburst looking towards Namjoon who with a mouth full of noodles shrugged.

“Sunday’s you can sleep in Jungkook’s room, and mine on Wednesdays,”

“Oh I will take Monday’s” Hoseok smiled, brightly

“Monday is tonight” Jimin accused looking panicked, “fine, I will take Tuesday then”

“Can you sleep in my rooms on Wednesday?” Taehyung said,

“Wednesday is already taken,” Yoongi glared, placing some meat on Taehyung’s plate in an attempt to console him, “Take Thursday”

“Yes Thursday”

“I will take Saturday,” Jin grinned, “Which means Namjoon is Friday? Is that alright?”

You blinked watching this all unfold, they had just decided on their own sleep schedule for you. It was nice to see them working together but you didn’t know how to feel about moving rooms every night. But at this point, anything seemed more comfortable than the couch. “Maybe once and when I have stayed once in everyone's rooms, I will go back on the couch.”

“What if two people share a room and have bunk beds or something, then that leaves a free room for you?” Jimin said, grabbing some tteokbokki, “I can share with Hoseok or Taehyung or Jungkook, I can give you my room. It can be your own little space.”

“Oh, my room! My room!” Hoseok said, “I miss the sound of other people in the night, we can get bunk beds.”

Hoseok and Jimin grinned at one another, the two already talking about how they would design and decorate their room. Heading into the bathroom you cleaned up the clothes off the floor and dumped them in the hamper. It made you laugh how comfortable they were all getting enough to drop their clothes on the floor right beside the hamper.

Taking a rather warm shower you scrubbed your skin wondering if you would smell different again in the morning. It was a strange thought, once scrubbed and buffed clean you wrapped yourself in your towel and stood on the small mat in front of the basin. Examining your appearance, as you slowly moisturize your skin.

Whilst smoothing the cool night cream across your brow you thought you saw an orange tail in the mirror turning you thought Seokjin had burst into the bathroom to pee but when you turned nothing and nobody was there.

It left you feeling a little unsettled, it was your head playing tricks on you. Getting dressed you all but ran out into the hall smacking into Seokjin who was coming out of his room. You grasped his large shoulders to prevent yourself from falling back. He gripped your waist in response.

“Woah, what’s wrong, why are you scared?” He asked, his tail fluffed and his ears twitching looking for a threat. A few heads popped out of their rooms, “You reek of fear, what happened?”

“I spooked myself, one of the towels moved in the bathroom and I thought it was something else and I got scared, that’s all” Your voice died off with your rambling, and the blush settled upon your cheeks.

Hoseok walked over and took your hands, “don’t worry, you are staying in my room tonight so I will protect you!” His chipper tone did wonders to ease your distress, pulling you along to his room where he tucked the two of you into the bed.

“Thank you, I miss having people to talk to and just be there,” He smiled, “I am excited to get to stay with Jimin, he is such a nice guy.”

“He is a sweetheart when we were little we used to play together and he always wanted to play pirates and superheroes but on my 4th birthday no one from our school showed up to my princess party. So Jimin dressed up as a princess as did my carer Felix and his carer Astrid and we all shared snacks and cake”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T TELL ANYONE!” Jimin’s voice screeched from the hallway seconds before rapid footsteps. His figure appeared in the doorway for a split second, his sock-clad feet slipping out from underneath him sending him sliding further down the hallway.

“I have pictures too,” You giggled

“Send them to me.” Yoongi’s tired drawl came from a few rooms up and you grinned airdropping them around the house. Jimin tried to wrestle the phone from your hands and you grinned, pulling him onto the bed.

“Time for bed Jimin, lay down or get out.” he indeed snuggled up on your other side, Hoseok and Jimin's arms wrapped around you and you were indeed feeling quite safe from your previous scare.

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[whom-killed-markiplier]

I dunno how to phrase this exactly, but perhaps a soft moment between s/o and Dark, where Dark trusts them to help him with something, like perhaps his work or an injury or something? Basically a trust fic XD -NitS

Thank you so much for cute idea, darling! I’m super happy with this one, so I hope you enjoy it! 

-Trigger warning for blood and injuries-

It's hard to keep accidents from happening in a place like the ego manor, even despite Dark's best attempts. With idiots running around twenty-four seven, at least three things were bound to break in a week. And that's on a good week.Dark was constantly at his wits end with these fools, and if he didn't have you around, he feared that he would've ended at least three of them by now.

Starting with that stupid klutz of an android, Bing.

The incident that sparked such frustration happened when Bing was doing yet another skate trick in the house specifically after being instructed not to, because he'd already broken three vases and a window. Dark had been taking a walk outside when Bing came grinding down the stairwell railing, into the large window in front of it, and onto the grass. Dark definitely thought he saw sparks fly from a few cuts in Bings skin, but he was too angry to worry about his well-being right now. 

A large, pitch black aura began to surround Dark. He growled, deep and low in his throat, barring his teeth in anger. 

"What did I say about riding that damned skateboard inside?"

His voice took on a scary rumble that echoed and overlaid itself, so it sounded there were more of him then there really was. 

Bing flinched, visibly afraid. Realistically, he knew Dark would never hurt him. But in the heat of the moment he feared for his life.

Dark hadn't been close enough to actually get hit by the tumbling ego, but he was close enough to receive some damage anyway. This became clear as he exerted his powers and blood began to pour from a large cut along the side of his left palm under his pinkie finger, which was accompanied by a couple tinier cuts around it. His right hand was less damaged, but a couple cuts from where the glass had nicked him were present. Luckily, the rest of him was safe. His suit kept his arms unscathed and his hands, raised in front of him, served as significant enough protection for his face. Maybe he could make it up to his office without anyone noticing the damage.

He took a couple breaths, steadying his mood a little before drawing back his aura until it just barely outlined him, and crossed his arms behind his back. He clasped his hands together, his right over his left to keep the wound from bleeding everywhere. 

"Bing. Stand," Dark said, his voice still echoing in the lingering Void around him. Bing did as told without hesitation, scrambling to his feet in an instant. He saluted, which would have made Dark laugh in any other situation

"Google!" Dark called, eyes finding the onlooking android. Google was holding back a laugh, though it certainly wasn't for the sake of Bing's feelings. But he perked up when his name was called, no longer laughing.

"Take him to the infirmary and fix him up. That is an order."

Dark had to state that it was an order or else it wouldn't be done. Google would sooner sacrifice himself to the services of humanity before he'd willingly take care of Bing. 

With a grumble, Google grabbed Bing by the shirt and yanked him away from the wreckage. The rest of the egos watching the scene were quickly driven away by Dark's cold gaze.

Dark stood there in the grass, allowing himself to calm down from any lingering anger he felt. Once his dark aura dissipated completely, he uncrossed his arms and looked down at his hands which were slowly becoming wet and sticky from his blood. He frowned at the injuries and looked up to make sure no one was around. Then he clasped his hand over the large cut to stop the bleeding, ignoring the sharp pain, and stalked off to his office.

Once there he realized he didn't really know what to do. He'd never really had a major injury before. He'd only gotten minor cuts and bruises, those of which were easy to take care of and healed exceptionally fast thanks to his power. It didn't help that the injuries were on his hands, which would make patching himself up rather difficult. That meant that he would have to rely on someone else in the house.

There weren't many people around here that he trusted to help with this sort of thing, and even less that he trusted to see him in an injured state. He could always go to the infirmary and seek aid from Dr. Iplier, but he would rather not have the Doc tell him that he's dying every few seconds and then give him shoddy help at best.  Not to mention that Bing and Google were already there, and he didn't really want Bing to find out he hurt Dark and have him fret over him the entire time. Especially not while he was annoyed with him. 

Wilford was his most trusted friend among the egos, but he wasn't exactly... good at this sort of thing. Wil excelled with his marksmanship, not with his first aid skills. 

But there was one resident of the home that wasn't even an ego. One that he trusted with his life. 

As if being summoned by the mere thought of you, a humming came from the hallway, drawing his attention outside of his office. Both the tune and the voice was familiar, and poking his head out into the hall revealed the source of the sound to be you. You were on your way past his room, and when you spotted him you brightened considerably. 

"Good afternoon, Dark!" You said with a bright smile and a quick wave. A gentle smile tugged at his lips as he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Afternoon, (Y/n)."

He glanced over his own shoulder, considering his predicament before he called out your name. The call for you came out with a bit of urgency, against his will. The last thing he wanted was to worry you or make you think something was wrong. Or at least, make you think that something was seriously wrong. But something told him that this was a bit urgent. He needed help, and he didn't know who else to turn to. 

When you stopped your trek to wherever it was you were headed, tilting your head in question, Dark sighed.

"Could I perhaps ask for your assistance with something real quick?"

"Always. What's up?"

Dark smiled, then jerked his head back as a gesture to enter his office. As he retreated inside, you followed.

Your smile immediately fell upon entering the room and seeing the various scrapes and cuts inside his palm. You gasped, your hand clasping over your mouth in surprise.

"Dark, what happened?"

For some reason he was embarrassed and couldn't meet your eyes. 

"There was an... incident outside.," he said through clenched teeth. You raised an eyebrow, somehow knowing exactly what that meant. 

"Bing again?"

He sighed.

"Yes."

Though he was angry, you found the situation amusing. You pressed your hand to your mouth again, this time to suppress a laugh. 

"When will he learn?"

"I don't know. But now I must make arrangements to replace the window... again."

You stifled the rest of your giggles, trying to force them away so that you wouldn't upset him further. 

"Well... Let me help you patch up your hands."

"That would be appreciated, thank you."

You left his office as he pulled back one of the chairs from in front of his desk and sat down. You returned only moments later with a large first aid kit that you kept in the bathroom on this hall. Dark still remembered the exasperated face you made after your first experience of an injury here in the manor, when he told you that they didn't keep any first aid around. Even though you had been upset with him in the moment, it was rather funny now. He smiled fondly at the memory.

Before he could reminisce too long, you knelt down onto your knees in front of him and set the first aid kit on the ground. You picked up some tissues that you also brought with you and pressed it against the long cut under his pinkie. You pressed it for a long time until you were sure it was done bleeding, then set it aside to look at the cut.

"It's not too deep. Won't need stitches or anything..." You mumbled, more to yourself then him, it seemed, "It looks like there might be some glass in here..."

Dark cursed, but you smiled up at him and patted his knee.

"No worries, it won't be too hard to care for."

You took a pair of tweezers out, the pair you usually used to remove the Kings splinters. When Dark looked a little put off by this, you quickly assured him

"Don't worry, I sterilize these every time I use them."

That eased Dark and you went back to work, gently parting the skin of the cut. You gripped the glass shard and slowly slid it out, discarding it with the bloody tissues. You squeezed the wound a bit, pushing some blood out to wash out the germs, then patted it dry.

Afterwards, you stopped the more minor cuts from bleeding, checked them for glass, then wiped away the rest of the blood from his skin. 

When you pulled out the bottle of alcohol, he winced. 

"I don't really know how your body works. You heal at abnormally fast rates, and you can't really get sick, so... I don’t really know if you can get an infection... But, it's better to be safe then sorry."

You retrieved a baggie full of cotton balls and plucked one out. You opened the bottle and, careful not to spill any on his nice rug, you soak the cotton in the alcohol. 

You looked up at him in warning and he nodded, signaling you to continue. But when you pressed it against his wound he sucked in a sharp breath.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. This'll be over before you know it."

You held his hands so gently as you paid each cut special attention. Even if it was barely worse than a paper cut, you still disinfected it like it was as deep as the first. Your soft hands caressed his so carefully, almost like you were worried that you would injure him further if you didn't handle him with care. He couldn't help the flutter in his chest over how caring you were to be so attentive to his wounds.

Once you were finally done, you put the used cotton balls with the rest of the trash and retrieved the bandages.

"I don't think the majority of your hands will need bandaging. Those little cuts will heal up pretty quick. But I don't know about the big one. I'd like to bandage it up, just in case. If that’s alright with you."

He nodded once again and you unraveled the roll of bandages. You started wrapping up the part of his palm underneath his pinkie finger. You made sure it was tight, just not too tight to cut off circulation to the finger. You grabbed a piece of medical tape and sealed it once you thought your work was sufficient, then leaned away from him with a smile. He momentarily wished that you would lean closer instead. 

"There! All done!" 

You piled all of the supplies back into the kit, then took out a box of band-aids and a tube of Neosporin. You stood up onto your feet and leaned down so you were face to face with him. Nearly inches away from you, he took in another sharp breath, this time not from pain but from surprise. 

You smiled coyly and with a quiet voice you said, "You have a cut on your cheek."

You were away from him before you even knew what was happening, attending to yet another wound that he didn't know was there. You put a dab of Neosporin on his cheekbone and rubbed it in(and only then did he notice the sting of an unattended cut). Then you opened up the bandage and pressed it over the wound. 

Your bright smile returned as you leaned in close again and pressed a kiss on top of the band-aid. A little thrown off by the show of affection, he barely noticed you kneel back down to pick up the trash and retrieve your first aid kit. You were saying goodbye and leaving his office before he even processed the kiss. You stopped by his door on your way out and grinned like you knew something he didn't. It quickly became clear, however.

"Oh, and sorry about that band-aid, by the way. It's all we had. Yandere prefers the ones with the cute little hearts."

You were gone before he had a chance to respond. Not that he could've anyway, still baffled by the events that just played out. 

Dark had a hard time trying to explain the bright pink, heart covered bandage on his face to the other egos during the meeting later that day. It became the main topic of discussion before Dark got fed up and shut it down. But he did not miss the way you smiled when you entered room with coffee for the others. And he definitely did not miss the way you tried to hold in laughter as the others joked at his expense. Though, you didn't miss the way he glared at you from across the room, either. He made sure of it.

That was all he could bring himself to do as payback, though. After all, you did spend your time caring for his wounds. He may have been upset in the moment, but perhaps what you did made up for it. Even the kiss. 

Especially the kiss. 

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating John Bender

(Not my gifs)(Requested by anonymous)

(Some of these are sort of sad and mention abuse so warning to anyone who is uncomfortable with that subject matter)

- You met Bender in detention. When Vernon left all of you alone, he began to badger you about how you got there. Finally, you’d had enough and just told him the boring, slightly embarrassing truth: you were just late to class too many times.

- You shyly glanced over at him after you said it, only to find a small smirk on his face.

“Oh that’s adorable,” he said and you could feel your face turn hot. “No, that’s really cute. I mean it’s just so-”

“Alright Bender.” Andy interrupted. Bender glared and turned on the wrestler, something you were quite thankful for in the moment.

- Throughout the entire detention, he tried to get you to pay attention to him. He moved his seat next to yours, played with your hair, toyed around with how close you would let him get to you.

- For whatever reason you actually began liking him. Under all that dickhead behavior and dirty jokes he was actually entertaining …or maybe just hot.

- Later in the day, the two of you went through each other’s stuff. He told you about his girlfriends and you sort of lost your interest in him. And yet, he seemed to rope you back in every time he flipped his stupidly gorgeous hair. It was a ...confusing detention.

- After a few hours of flirtation, you finally agreed to one date. He didn’t really have a plan when the two of you met up but once you told him you’d never been to one, he took you to a demolition derby.

- You were surprised by how much fun you had with him. You were also surprised by how okay you were with; lightly, making out with him, pushed against a chain link fence after the show was over.

- As much as you enjoyed the time you spent with him, you couldn’t get it out of your head that he had other girlfriends. The idea of him going out after the two of you parted ways and fucking some other chick after kissing you, well, it made you sick. And so, you began to actively ignore and avoid him.

- He wasn’t a fan of your silent treatment. He’d tasted you, gotten so close to winning you over, and you’d pulled the rug out from under him for seemingly no reason at all. It riles him up, makes him think you’re completely insane and yet, he can’t just let you go and be the crazy bitch that you apparently are. He has to have you.

- Meanwhile, you trying to ignore how you feel about him just seems to make it worse. So now, the two of you can’t stop thinking about the kiss you shared and how much you actually want to be together.

- Finally, after a chunk of time spent trying to distance yourself as much as possible, the loudspeaker comes on during one of your classes.

“Good afternoon Shermer High School~ this is John Bender coming to tell all of you that there is little lady out there by the name of Y/n Y/l/n who is your favorite assholes girlfriend. From now on, anyone who so much as looks at her will get their teeth kicked in by yours truly. Have a nice day.” Beep.

- You immediately felt the urge to melt into the floor as the entire class turned to stare at you. Finally, you just got up and dashed out of the classroom, on the prowl for the jackass who didn’t know when to quit.

- He’s halfway across the school when you find him, lazily walking as though he’d done nothing wrong.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You have to stop yourself from screaming the words.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look hot when you’re angry?” He asks, stopping a foot or so away from you.

“What are you trying to pull here Bender? Are you trying to make my life hell?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he replies. “We go on a date, we kiss, we have a jolly good fucking time and then you ignore me. Now I’m sat here wondering what the fuck I did wrong, like I should even give a fuck about what you think of me.”

He stops for a moment before continuing. “Well for some reason, I do. And so I thought about it and I figured it was those girls that I was seeing. So I got rid of them. You want a steady little monogamous boyfriend? Fine. But that means you don’t touch other guys, you don’t even look at them. You’re mine now.”

- You take a minute to process what he said and try to cool off. The two of you stand there, looking at each other like you’re both waiting for the other to strike. Finally you open your mouth and give him a response.

“Fine. I’m yours. But I’m gone the minute you try to play me for a fool.”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it baby.” He grins.

- Constant pda. He loves showing off that you’re his and getting that sweet, sweet physical contact.

- Messy kisses on the cheek from him. It’s usually when he’s being a sarcastic ass but you can’t help but love it anyway.

- He requires a lot of attention. If you don’t give it to him he’s bound to do something stupid to get it.

- He’s so surprised by your innocent affection. He doesn’t know how to react when you just brush his hair from his face or hug him. What are you trying to do? Why did you do that? ...Why does he like it so much?

-You’ll snuggle into his side while watching a movie and he’ll just stiffen up with his arms held away from himself trying to figure out what you’re doing. (Kind of like when a kid hugs the big tough guy of a film.) He gets better at it later in the relationship but it’s still a bit awkward at times. Just rest assured that he does; in fact, like it.

- His hands are almost always on either your waist, hips or ass. Depends on his mood and the situation. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t a total asshole and respects that different places call for different grips.

- With that in mind, he’s a pretty sexual person. Hickeys, groping, smacking your butt; you name it and he’s doing it.

- Making out ...a lot. His tongue is basically roommates with yours at this point.

- Rough and passionate kisses. I mean, teeth clashing, lip biting, moan inducing kisses. If you didn’t like him as much as you do, his kisses would probably be enough to convince you to stay.

- Playing with his hair. You aren’t allowed to braid it so don’t even ask.

- So many sexual innuendos and jokes. He is; in general, a horny little bastard man, so expect him to be sexual with you.

- He is constantly smirking at and trying to get you flustered.

- He’s a cocky little shit but he makes it look attractive; most of the time.

- Most of his compliments consist of him calling you hot and other less than romantic names.

- Compliments fuel him so expect him to act tough and do tricks to try and impress you.

- Stupid dancing in the privacy of your own home or his. You’re usually blaring the radio or his mixtapes.

- When he’s at your house, he’s usually wearing much comfier clothing; things he would never actually wear to school like sweaters and sweatpants. He looks surprisingly ...cute in them.

- Sometimes, he can get genuinely sweet and thoughtful, even if he refuses to admit it.

- He carries you on his shoulder a lot, usually slapping your butt or holding you by it when he’s carrying you around. 

- He sneaks into your room through your window a lot; sometimes when he just wants to see you and sometimes when he just has to get away from home.

- Definitely has had your name tattooed on him at some point; probably even gives it to himself at home or something equally dangerous and slightly stupid.

- If it wasnt for that, you would probably feel like he doesn’t know your real name; what with the amount of pet names he gives you on a day to day basis.

- He shows you off all the time. He’s so proud that he managed to snag a girl like you and actually have you fall for him. He rubs it in everyone’s face that the ‘delinquent’ got such a hot girlfriend.

- He feels like such a badass with you under his arm while he smokes. The two of you will sit in the back of the school, his arm wrapped around you and you curled up into his side while he lights up a cigarette. 

- He probably steals gifts for you, even if you tell him not to. He’ll say he bought it but deep down you kind of know he just swiped it from a shop. It’s the thought that counts right? 

- Both of you wearing mismatched earrings with the other wearing the second of the two pairs.

- It’s a huge turn on when you wear his clothes. He can’t help but stop and stare wide eyed as you come out wearing his shirt or one of his jackets; especially if there little underneath.

- Wearing his jackets. They always have a very distinct Bender-like smell: faint hints of gasoline, cigarettes and cheap cologne or maybe even your own perfume.

- He would never really admit it, but whenever he’s at your house or messing around with your bag, he sprays himself or his car with a little of your perfume. It always comforts him in a way he can’t really explain. You’ve caught him maybe once or twice but you always think he’s just dicking around with your stuff while he’s bored.

- He gets clingy sometimes but a lot of the time, he’s just annoyingly nonchalant. It’s usually all an act, pretending like he doesn’t care means he doesn’t get hurt; at least not in the eyes of other people. Thats all that matters to him; that he stays being the delinquent who doesn’t give a shit about anything. 

“ Yeah sure, whatever. Do what you want. I don’t care.” Newsflash: he cares a lot.

- You know him a lot better than he thinks you do so a lot of his actions don’t bother you any more. You know the reason behind them so you can understand why he does what he does and try to work around or through them. 

- His parents are probably never home but when they are, he never takes you to his house. He doesn’t really think that they’d try something with you there but he wants to make sure there’s never even a chance that something could happen. The truth is, he’s sort of embarrassed that he “let’s” his father beat on him.

-You definitely try to persuade him to tell somebody about his home life, but he doesn’t think anyone would believe him (like everyone else) and makes you drop the subject pretty early in the conversation.

- Occasionally, you’ll go hang out with him in detention but you’ve also managed to keep him out of most of the trouble he tries to get himself into. Sure, you let him have his fun, but he isn’t in detention everyday now; you would never see him if you let him do all the shit he wanted to.

- You’ve also gotten him to stop fucking around with random people; for the most part. You explain to him that it really isn’t fun or funny to watch him bully and ridicule people who don’t or can’t fight back.

- He’s sorta insecure. He often wonders why you would want to date him of all people, especially if you come from a good family. He thinks of himself as the dirtbag of the school so it really just doesn’t make sense that someone like you (Someone who he thinks could quite possibly be perfect) would want him.

- Your parents hate him of course; mostly because of his reputation and the fact that they’ve seen him kiss the everloving shit out of you in front of the school.

- You make sure he knows that you’ll always be there. He’ll brush it off but he likes that you actually give a shit about him. Your words will stick with him and he’ll find himself thinking about them late at night, feeling comforted at the idea.

- You patch him up after his father hurts him, both physically and emotionally. If he needs you to clean him up, you’ll do it. If he just needs to sit with you in silence for a while; you’ll do that too. Whatever will make him feel alright.

- He has trouble being completely open with you and sharing his feelings. He’s very closed off, having built up a wall over the years. You let him take it down when he thinks he’s ready to; you don’t want to try to break it down and end up chasing him away. You know that deep down, he’s really just scared of letting people in and getting hurt more than he already has been.

- It takes a while for him to fully trust you but when he does, it’s worth the time you spent trying to get him to.

- He’s a pretty jealous and possessive guy. He doesn’t have much but he has you and that means a lot to him so anyone who tries to take you away from him is in for an ass kicking. Plus, it’s just common knowledge that you don’t try to mess with Bender.

- He’s seen firsthand how terrible people can be so he’s sort of intent on making sure you aren’t treated the same way he is. His parents may not hold the same sentiment but he would never let someone hurt the person he loves.

- Fights are usually loud and filled with curse words and name calling. He definitely storms off, either in the middle of it or towards the end when things aren’t exactly over but slightly calmed down from the full blown war you were having.

- To him, he can ignore you but the instant you do the same, he’s pissed off. Before you decide to ignore him, you’ll probably try and get him to talk to you but he’ll just give you the silent treatment. That’s when you finally give up and do the same, instantly turning the tables.

- No ones ever really put him in his place like that. They lash out, yell at him, maybe even hit him; but they never give him a taste of his own medicine. After a while of you ignoring him, he starts to do everything in his power to make you talk to him, even if he’s still pissed. He hates it, seeing you play his game; maybe even playing it better than him.

- He doesn’t necessarily apologize, he just; usually willingly, forgets which one of you actually started it and what you were fighting about in the first place. Or, if he does remember what you were fighting about, he sort of resolves it, explaining why there’s no reason for either of you to be upset with each other/why you don’t have to be angry with him.

- He doesn’t say he loves you but you know he does from the way he acts. He never treats anyone quite like he treats you and you can tell there’s something different in his gaze whenever he looks at or talks about you.

- He thinks you’ll leave him at some point so he always tries to make the most of your time together. You always reassure him that he’s not getting rid of you that easily which brings a little smile to his face. 

“Even if you did leave me, you’d never get over me. I’d spare you the pain and take you back, you know? I’m not cruel.”

“Gee thanks babe.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

- He may be an annoying asshole at times, but you love him and will stand by him through thick and thin, and him you.

[ackermancurse]

3000

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Tony’s death, fluff

Word Count: 1709

AN: I used Billie Eilish’s song “I Love You” as inspiration sooooo I suggest listening to it to get more of a feel for this 

“Hey Y/n its uh- its me Peter. Give me a call when you get this. I don’t know what I did wrong but please call me so I can fix whatever I did. I haven’t heard from you in a few months and I miss you. So um… Call me,” the voice echoes throughout your bedroom and you sigh.

It’s been about 3 months since your dad’s funeral, which means 3 months since you had a real conversation with Peter. Of course he did nothing wrong, when it comes to you Peter never does anything wrong. You just can’t bring yourself to talk to him, he reminds you way too much of your dad. You especially can’t bring yourself to talk to him about what he told you the last time you had a real conversation with him.

It was maybe a week or 2 after your dad’s funeral, Peter had been visiting you, Morgan, and Pepper everyday. He would always bring so much happiness into the house for even the few hours he was there, that’s when you were your happiest. You got excited when you heard his voice downstairs that you would run and leap into his arms from the second step, he was always there to catch you.

One Tuesday afternoon Peter’s head was laying on your lap and you played with his curls. His eyes were closed and he had the softest smile as you ran your delicate fingers through his chocolate curls. You hummed the song your dad would sing to you when you were little to help you fall asleep or relax and it seemed to be doing the trick to Peter.

“Hey y/n um… I can tell you anything right?” Peter interrupts your humming and your fingers stop midway through his hair. “Of course Pete… What’s on your mind?” You ask with sincerity.

He takes a deep breath, “I'm in love with you Y/n Stark.” You feel winded. His eyes fluttered open and you see the caramel eyes of your best friend. You are the embodiment of speechless because even when you try to speak all that comes out is air. Peter sits up and holds your limp hand, “I know that this is crazy but I just can’t hide it anymore. I’ve loved you since the beginning of high school. I’ve always known but never thought I had a chance because there was always some other guy. I feel something between us and I know it isn’t the grief that’s pulling us together.”

“Peter you don’t mean that… Please tell me you’re lying,” You whisper. “Y/n you know that I’d never lie to you,” Peter softly speaks and you let a sigh escape your lips. You can’t do this, not now.

“Pete I-I’m sorry I just need some time…” you break the news to the hopeful boy and he nods. “I figured. Just know I’m a phone call away.” He stands up and grabs his backpack. You stand against the door frame looking at the ground with your arms crossed. Peter’s hand lightly cups your cheek and you look at him, tears starting to form in your eyes as his thumb grazes your skin. He gives you a half smile and leans to kiss your cheek, “Take all the time you need.”

You shut the door after watching him wave goodbye to you down the street and sink to the floor and cry.

That was exactly 3 months ago. Pepper continued to ask when Peter was gonna visit and you would make up an excuse every time. Your little sister Morgan was sad when she didn’t see Peter in the living room when she came home from daycare. You had to tell her that Peter has been very busy with school and family things.

A small knock was at your door, you wipe your eyes with a sniffle, “Come in.” You hear the pattern of tiny feet and your little sister Morgan climbs onto your bed. “What’s wrong y/n? I heard you crying,” Morgan asks concerned as she lays under your fluffy blanket with you, head resting on your upper arm.

You sniffle and smile, “Nothing’s wrong M.” She stares at you with her big brown doe eyes, reminding you of your dad.

“Don’t lie to me y/n/n. Lying isn’t nice,” Morgan frowns, “I heard Peter’s voice and then you cried.” You know you can’t lie to her anymore, it’s been too long.

You sigh, “So remember the last time Peter was here?” You ask and Morgan nods with a smile, “Yeah that’s when we made chocolate chip cookies!” She exclaimed excitedly.

You smile with a nod, Peter burned the first batch so you had to swoop in to save the day, “Yeah it was! Well um… Peter he uh told me a secret, a big secret, and I just didn’t know how to respond back. It can change everything,” you explain and Morgan looks at you confused. “What did he say? Is it something I can know?”

“He told me he loved me. Like how daddy loved mommy,” Morgan smiles. “So Peter loves you 3000?” She questions and you gasp. “Yeah… Yeah I guess he does.”

Morgan looks up at you and moves her messy hair from her face. It stayed silent for a bit. “Do you love Peter 3000 too?” You stare at your little sister and twiddle your thumbs. “I do… I know I do… But I’m scared M…” you cry and Morgan holds your hands, her tiny fingers wrapping around your own. “It’s okay to be scared. Mommy says whenever I’m scared to hold someone’s hand that I love. So you can always hold Peter’s hand.” That’s when it hits you. You really do love Peter Parker.

You wipe your eyes and pick up your phone, you hear the ringing, “Hey y/n!” You smile.

“H-Hey Pete… Um can we talk? Like uh like in person?” His breath hitches on the other line. “Yeah!” He clears his throat, “yeah for sure. I’ll be at your place in 20 minutes.” He hangs up and you fall back into your pillow.

Sure enough 20 minutes comes around and you hear the doorbell. You rush to open the door and you see the boy with his hands in his pockets. He softly smiles when he makes eye contact with you, “Hi y/n/n.” You smile and hug him. You smell his cologne, the smell you know too well. Peter runs his fingers through your hair. “I think it’s best that we go up to my room,” you whisper and he pulls back, hands placed on your hips, “Yeah yeah okay.”

Peter ruffles Morgan’s hair who was sitting at the foot of the stairs, “Hey squirt I missed you.” Morgan giggles and gives Peter’s legs a hug, he swiftly picks her up and boops her nose. “How old are you now? Like 10?” Morgan laughs, “No Petey I’m still 5!” Peter smile and looks at you, “Well maybe you just got taller then…” Morgan hugs him and he puts her down softly.

The walk up to your room was quiet, you sat at the foot of your bed and Peter followed. You looked at the area rug on your floor and a piece of your hair fell in front of your face, you tucked it behind your ear. “Wow you’re even more beautiful than I remember,” Peter whispers and your face feels hot. You look into his brown eyes and remember the last time you did he said ‘I love you.’

“So I called you here to talk about something really important…” you started off and Peter brought his full attention to you. Silence filled the room and your heart was racing. Peter placed his hand on your knee and his thumb grazed it, “We can tell each other anything… Remember?” You nod. You close your He and take a deep breath.

“I love you Peter Parker…” you blurt out. Peter’s thumb froze and you open your eyes slowly, scared to see his reaction. You’re met with a smiling teenage boy, “R-really? You love me?” He asks in shock. “You’ve been with me through it all, how can I not fall for someone like you?” You respond and he holds your hand.

The boy was utterly speechless. “But…” you started and his smile begins to fade, “But what?” he asks sadly.

“But I’m scared to love you Peter Parker… You remind me so much like my dad, you would do anything for the little guy. You’re Spider-Man for crying out loud and you face danger every time you put that suit on. I already dealt with my dad’s death and I don’t know if I could deal with yours too,” you sob and Peter holds your face, wiping away your tears.

“Hey hey hey I’m not going anywhere for a long time. I promise you that no matter what happens that I’m gonna find a way to get back home, back to you. You mean the absolute world to me and you should know that I don’t say I love you to just anyone. I love you Y/n Stark,” Peter professes and you calm down. His forehead rests against yours and you feel his hot breath entangling with your own. You look at the way the corner of his mouth crinkles whenever you take a deep breath and grin.

You bring your hand up to his face and his eyes connect with yours. “I think this is the part that we kiss.” Peter smiles and leans in closing the space between the both of you.

You smile in the kiss as he continues to whisper I love you every time he pecks your lips.

“In the words of Morgan Stark, I love you 3000 Peter Parker,” you say and Peter’s eyes stare gently at you. “Wow… 3000? That’s a lot. Are you sure you can handle that?” He jokingly asks and you laugh.

You stare at a picture of your dad smiling with Pepper on their anniversary on your bedside table and look at Peter who stares at you with loving eyes, “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

[argylemikewheeler]

so. i had an idea about will and mike as bucky and steve for halloween (in some strange alternate timeline bc comics), then @zombiebowlcut came up with the best idea of those comics not being so fantasy after all...there have been weirder things living in hawkins. despite the show’s title, this is the strangest thing i’ve ever written. pls excuse the word dump (and being four months late):

“Are you sure we should go up?” Mike asked, gripping his pillowcase around his hand. “I don’t really know who lives there. And we’re a bit older than the other kids... Maybe they’ll be upset with us.”

“They live in two streets down, Mike.” Will said, taking another step forward. “They can’t be evil.”

“Uh, you have lived in this town, right?”

“Yes, and we’re probably the most dangerous things in your neighborhood for miles.” Will laughed and grabbed Mike’s hand. “Come on, Super Soldier! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“In my basement, on the couch with you under my arm.” Mike tried to argue with very little heat. He readjusted his homemade shield on his back, teasing Will with a throw.

“One more house and then we’ll go back.” Will promised, starting to drag Mike along. The well-decorated sleeve and glove may have been impressive as a false metal arm, but it couldn’t do much to contribute to moving Mike forward. “Michael, come on.”

“No, don’t use that voice on me.” Mike laughed, yanking on Will’s hand in return. 

Will stumbled forward into Mike, trying to catch his fall by pressing his hands against his chest. It was a sure-fire way to get Mike’s arm around his shoulders and lips pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. Will played right into it, and never minded-- but also knew they were out in public. As much as Will said anyone living in Mike’s neighborhood, or anyone adjacent by that means, wasn’t evil, they were definitely not very progressive. At least, that’s what Will had come to understand.

They separated before anyone around them could even spare half a glance. Will grabbed his pillowcase with both hands and led Mike up to the door. They knocked twice, immediately startled by the sound of a dog barking. Mike reached his hand out and braced Will’s back, lifting his eyebrows.

“If you say the people aren’t evil, the dog definitely isn’t.” Mike whispered with a chuckle. His hand splayed across Will’s back, pushing him up but also pulling him a fraction closer. Their shoulders touched and Will couldn’t help but smile. 

His smile faded as the door swung open on them, the sound of the turning knob completely unnoticed in their moment.

A tall man, not much older than their parents-- if at all-- stood in the door. The dog they’d heard was now silent, and barely noticeable, standing behind the man. Will tried not to be rude, and forced his eyes to stay on the man’s eyes and not the knotted long sleeve hanging only two inches from his left shoulder. He smiled and let their “trick or treat” hang in the air.

“Hey, sweetheart? You might want to come see this.” The man leaned back and called into the house. “We finally got kids.”

“What? We weren’t even trying this time.” The voice that emerged down the hall was that of another man. Will tried to keep his face still again. That was another man. And the rugged man standing before him just called him sweetheart with the most sincere and soft voice Will had ever heard-- outside of Mike’s. He knew what that meant, but he still didn’t know what to expect.

“I think they have great costumes, what about you?”

The two men stood in the door frame with bright smiles on their faces. One was blond, holding a bowl of candy in one hand while the other went around the waist of the man holding the door. They looked homey and comfortable. They looked happy-- and they were living in Hawkins.

But they also looked... strangely familiar. Separately, Will was sure they’d mean nothing to him-- hell, he’d probably passed them before in the supermarket-- but standing together, there was something itching at Will’s brain. He blinked, pillowcase still closed and by his side, and turned to Mike. He was standing with his mouth wide open, eyes the biggest Will’s ever seen.

Will was embarrassed, thinking it was the shock of seeing another genuinely open couple out in Hawkins, but another sense of embarrassment overtook him.

He looked down at his costume, then over at Mike’s. Oh. Oh no.

“You know, Buck, I think they do look pretty sharp.”  Will refused to believe who was speaking. But he knew it. He heard the name. He knew the comics were based on real people-- on a real conspiracy. God, why does every secret go to hide in Hawkins? And why does it always find him?

“They do... I just... I can’t place who this one is.” Buc-- no. They weren’t young twenty-year old soldiers. They were war veterans now, Will thought-- Mr. Barnes pointed at Will lightly. It wasn’t accusatory, but Will still felt himself shrink under it.

“Well, we have Captain Marvel over here.” Mr. Rogers said, motioning to Mike with the candy bowl. “And this has to be Million Dollar Man.”

“No. No. That’s Ironman.” Mr. Barnes said quickly, poking Mr. Roger’s stomach playfully. “That has to be Ironman.”

"You know what, you’re right.” Mr. Rogers nodded slowly. He leaned over and kissed Mr. Barnes’ cheek and Will thought he was going to fall over. He reached over and grabbed Mike’s arm instinctively. Mike was already in the process of reaching over and intercepted his hand halfway.

Then they were stood there, holding hands in front of their costumes’ namesakes. Looking like complete idiots; in love, and probably in the safest place to do so definitely, but complete fucking idiots.

“Not to extend a strange gesture but,” Mr. Rogers peered over their heads at the chattering groups of children down by the street. There were eyes everywhere. “would you boys like to step in for a moment?”

“A-Are you sure?” Mike sounded like the words were choking him. Being polite had never been so difficult.

“If it’s too strange to ask, we understand.”

“Trust me.” Will said with a sigh. “It’s not weird. We’ve uh, we’ve dealt with weirder.”

“Like this?” Mike said under his breath. “El is pretty tame compared to this.”

“I just put some water on for tea.” Mr. Rogers said, motioning over his shoulder.

“You drink tea?” Mike said suddenly, as if that was the most important thing. Will pulled on Mike’s hand, nearly knocking him over.

“Michael!”

“I’m just... surprised is all!” Mike hissed, face going beat red.

“What? Do regular people not drink tea anymore?” Mr. Rogers laughed. “Are we really that outdated?”

“No, that’s you. You’re the one who’s old. I’m surprisingly still ‘with it’, Steve.” Mr. Barnes shrugged. “I mean, I’ve got the cool kids dressing like me. How come I don’t see you around that often?”

“I-I uh, I don’t like in this development. Mike does.” Will said, still squeezing his hand.

“Mike... Wait! Wheeler, right?” Mr. Rogers was hit with realization, but didn’t look very pleased. “Ted, right? That’s your dad?”

“Yeah.” Will could see the horror on his face; if Ted had no problems shouting at his son just outside of church everything he thought about him-- and his plans to go out with Will on God’s day-- then Will could only imagine what he’d tell strangers.

“I’ll offer again-- do you want tea?” This time, the offer felt heavy. It wasn’t about the tea; it was an impromptu shelter thrown over their heads. A chance to take off their disguises on a night all about costumes. They nodded. “Great! Please, come in, Mike and...”

“Will. This is my boyfriend, Will.” Mike had never spoken the word aloud to anyone but their friends. Never to someone over the age of twenty. Will had never heard Mike come out with such ease. He was fearless-- or at least calculating the damage very quickly.

“Nice to meet you, Will.” Mr. Rogers nodded to Will, smiling. He seemed to be just as relieved to meet them as Mike and Will were.

“Come on in, Will. Oh- and don’t mind Tasha, she’s just my service dog. Since I’m with Steve she knows she’s not working so she will bother you to pet her. You can.” Mr. Barnes stepped back and grabbed the dog’s collar carefully. He kept her at a distance as both Mike and Will stepped into the foyer. “She’s really friendly.”

“You have a service dog.” It wasn’t much of a question. “Does she... help?”

"Yeah.” He nodded and his single word seemed to collect more weight the longer he let it sit in the silence. “When I first came back, she was a really big help. If you, uh, if you ever need a dog to sit with, Tasha’s your girl.”

“We should get you a dog, Will.” Mike said offhandedly, placing a hand on his back. “I’m sure your mom would like another one.”

“You think so?” Will asked. He’d never thought anyone considered his weird nightmares worthy of that much help. Maybe he’d have to try.

“Totally.”

“Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’d be happy to talk to your mother. Or whoever.” Mr. Barnes offered, walking forward.

“D-Do you know my mom too?” Will was sure most people in the neighborhood knew his mother. She never let her presence be discovered; she liked to let everyone know as soon as possible who she was and why one should never pushed her around. Will loved his mom-- and his brother-- they always made introductions mildly unnecessary. It even seemed like introducing himself to Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers was redundant.

“Of course we do.” Mr. Rogers stepped quickly around the dining table and waved the boys to the kitchen. “She’s the sweetest. Always helps Buck pack his car when he goes to Melvald’s.”

Mike sat down at the kitchen counter first, holding his am out and waiting for Will to sit beside him. It was something Mike would only do if they were alone together, but for once the audience didn’t seem to feel like other watching eyes. Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes didn’t hover on their closeness; they moved around the kitchen grabbing mugs and bags of tea.

“You know, Will, Hopper would probably like another dog too.” Mike said. “You can’t lose.”

“And if I do, you could definitely beat him up again.”

“I did not beat him up-- I was like, thirteen! He’s like triple my age!”

“Michael, just admit it you did!” He leaned in and whispered. “That’s not very Captain of you...”

“Will, I did not!”

“I’m sorry, did you say you just... beat up a grown man?” Mr. Rogers said with a laugh, turning around. Mr. Barnes chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“He beat up the chief of police.” Will corrected. He never saw it himself, but Lucas was a great storyteller, even years later.

“Oh god.” Mr. Barnes laughed again. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“That’s my boy.” Mr. Rogers said with a proud smile. “You have him on the ropes, huh? Really at your mercy?”

“Definitely.” Mike nodded, rolling his eyes. “I literally fought the law.”

“He really deserves to wear those colors, doesn’t he, Buck?” Mr. Rogers smiled, but it wore differently on his face than one of simple amusement. He looked proud, relieved almost; there was someone else. “Good to know some people in this town have some fight left in them.”

“Left?” Mr. Barnes echoed. “Oh, Steve, I don’t think these kids have even gotten started. They’ve raised some hell but, they’ve only started. You don’t fight a cop as your last offence.”

“That’s true.” Mr. Rogers slid the two mugs toward them. He looked at him, almost studying him-- both of them. “They’re heroes. I can tell.”

“Uh,” Mike reached for the mug impulsively. “I don’t think a whole army of--”

“Oh no.” Mr. Rogers lifted his own mug to his lips. His gaze cut through the tight coil of steam to the both of them. Mike’s arm was still arm Will’s shoulders. “We’re still fighting the same thing. Monsters and bad men are all the same-- it’s just hate changing shape.”

“But,” Will spoke quickly, as if his answer startled him.”I think love changes shape too.”

Mr. Rogers paused, blinking. “I suppose you’re right about that. Think it’s in pretty good shape now, don’t you?”

Will spun his mug around slowly. He leaned into Mike’s side, his mouth crumpling into an embarrassed smile. “Yeah. I like to think so... Can probably take on a whole lot more evil.” Will sighed. He knew it wasn’t a hypothetical.

“Let’s not go looking for trouble, please.” Mike muttered, nudging Will’s side. He refrained from kissing the side of his head. “I don’t want anyone to ruin the best night of the year--”

“Again.”

“--again.”

“Don’t worry. I think we’re fine,” Will said, reaching to tap Mike’s faux-armor. “I think we’re safe.” He paused, looking at Mike like they were back in his basement-- or sitting safe by his bed, but hidden from the door-- all alone. “We’re safe, Mike. I can feel it.”

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 17)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 5,800    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, nightmare, PTSD, smut, R-rated language, all the sex

~~~~~

Dean had been merciful to her - or mean, depending on how you look at it - and kept his t-shirt and boxer briefs on when they prepped to share his bed. “Should grab you something in case you don’t want to sleep naked.” He offered. “I won’t talk you out of it, though.” Her heart almost exploded when he dug the red plaid flannel out of his closet. He remembered me mentioning that one. She could tell by the smirk on his face when their fingers glided over each other for the exchange.

She’d tugged off the skirt and kept on her panties. Once the shirt was buttoned over her chest she performed that age old magic trick and extracted her bra from the sleeve. He smiled, dipped into what was obviously his preferred side of the bed, and tapped the mattress. A stretched arm readied to cradle her. She curled in, careful not to hit him with a faceful of her hair which she’d normally have in a ponytail to sleep. I’ll give him this tonight, since he likes it down. He was the big spoon in this particular scenario, the other arm draped around her waist, locking her into position. She sighed. Just the right amount of warmth.

Her heart sped at the closeness. Anticipation built, expecting the inevitable exploration of her skin, curves, folds, wetness. She waited, trying to regulate the stilted breath. That’s when it happened.

Dean snored.

His heavy, steady breathing blew near her ear.  

Hero, yes. Superhero? Eh. Still falls asleep pretty quickly after an orgasm. Poor guy. It certainly took a lot out of him. A smile crept over her lips. God, his face was absolute perfection when he came. If a look can trigger ovulation, that did it.

She closed her eyes and took in the scents of the room along with sounds of Dean slumbering. The underlying spice and mix of whatever pheromone Dean gave off sleeping next to her was heady and made it hard to smell much else. Even his sweat is a turn-on. She focused to pick out the other odors layered beneath. Bourbon, leather, something metallic, and maybe gunpowder?

The desk lamp had been left on, forgotten. Her gaze returned to the tiny pictures on top of the simple oak dresser. She wanted to get a better look at his family in the morning. Wanted to ask why he never mentioned his mom. Nothing recent. Old pictures. Old memories. Old heartaches? Maybe she left a long time ago? Died? The thought made her heart ache for the little boy who looked so happy in his mom’s embrace.

She was on edge from having given him head, expecting Dean to finish what they’d started quite soon after. She was slippery and swollen between her legs. Julie always enjoyed that particular act; especially with Steve, who’d been fairly well-endowed himself. But, not as big or pretty as Dean’s. Never thought I’d call a penis pretty.

Dean adjusted, curled up even tighter against her. His dead weight leaned into her. The sounds of his breathing; the promise of him being inside her; they all made it difficult to drift off to sleep. But she did. Eventually.

Julie shifted the car into Park once she found a good spot in the shopping center lot. Ina had pointed out her own car down the row. Her forlorn expression from the passenger seat stared out the windshield. “He’s such a friendly boy. He’ll run to just about anyone willing to show him a lick of affection.”

“Don’t assume the worst. There could be a good samaritan who’s taking great care of him right now.”

Ina sighed. She was such a tiny, slim little thing, even shorter than Julie’s mom. The compact car seat she occupied appeared massive in comparison. “You’re right. And, it hasn’t even been a day yet since he got out of the yard.”

Julie unbuckled her belt. “Where did you say you live again?”

Ina wrapped a few strands of her long and shiny, raven-colored hair behind an ear. Her mocha brown complexion was flawless, ageless. Julie was curious as to how old she actually was. “Um, just down the road in Fairwind.”

“Nice neighborhood. I couldn’t find anything available when I was looking months ago.”

Ina only nodded.

Julie waited, expecting a dump of information. She’d only met this woman three times, but she’d been a flood of words the other two instances. When there was none, Julie cleared her throat. She had a busy day ahead. And a man she was dying to see later. “Well, how about you grab me some flyers so I can drop them off at a few places?”  

“Yep, I’ve got ‘em in the back seat.” Julie nodded, expecting her to exit, retrieve, and bring them back. All of a sudden, Ina burst into tears. Her narrow shoulders dropped forward and hands covered her face. “My Cocoa Bear.”

God, she was taking it really hard. Julie patted her on the shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, Ina. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car. Sooner we get them posted, the sooner you get him back home.”

She sniffled, stared at Julie, and nodded. “Okay.”

The day was sunny, warm and a tad humid. Julie shut her car door and followed Ina to her spot. A good workout would focus the tension and excitement she was battling within her mind. The night before had been restless. All she’d thought about was Dean, his hands, mouth, and that voice encouraging her to let go and whispering filthy promises before Cas showed up.

The chirp as Ina unlocked the car door melted Dean’s green eyes from Julie’s vision. Ina opened the back door and motioned to the seat. “Got a whole box full. Spent most of the morning at the copy store.” She was still sniffling. “Take as many as you want.”  

Julie smiled and leaned in. A strong whiff of incense hit her nose. The back seat was not the tidiest. She drifted back to being in Dean’s immaculate Baby the night before. She lifted the lid off the folder box and grabbed a handful. The black lab’s smiling, panting face stared back from the papers. “Cocoa certainly has a great mom.” The offhand comment left Julie’s lips as she pulled out of the car and turned back to face Ina.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.” Ina smiled and grabbed Julie’s wrist. The touch was strong and quite unexpected from the petite woman. A flash of blue filled in the black irises of Ina’s eyes. Julie shook her head. Maybe she was more exhausted than she thought. Her mouth opened at the strange henna colored markings emerging, pushing through Ina’s skin. She felt cold. A stinging. Like bees. “Such a help you’ve been, Julie.” Her eyes flashed electric again. “Hm. You’re going to taste so sweet.”

Julie woke, gasping for air in the low light. The arms wrapped tight around her were huge. Her heart pumped. She heard the snort behind her and slowly recognized the space.

Dean.

He stirred and grunted, pulled her closer. “Hm.” It was not a moan of concern. He sounded content.

What the hell was that shit?

“Jules?” His lips were by her ear now. “Okay?” His deep voice scratched out the question.

She nodded into the pillow, feeling his biceps clench under her neck. “Yeah. I’m good. This-this is nice.” She brushed the hairs along his forearm. “I’m... just going to go use the bathroom.”

He pecked at her neck. His head dropped back. “This is nice.” He affirmed in a far away voice. She slithered out from under his embrace and stood by the side of the bed, inspecting his relaxed face. Closed eyes, slightly parted lips. “Coming back?”

“Of course.” She whispered, frowning at the question. “Go back to sleep, Dean.”

“K.” He nudged his nose into the pillow. The sight made her heart ache. He looked peaceful, younger, cares washed away if only for a short while. She wondered how soft and still his cheeks and lips would feel then, not clenched in heated anticipation or want. He floated into his own dreamland. She wondered as she spotted his eyes tracking something under his lids. But she didn’t dare disturb. Something tells me you deserve all the good dreams, Dean Winchester.

Julie tiptoed out of the room, grabbing her phone off the desk before she left, and headed into the bathroom. She clicked on the overhead light, shut the door and sat on the toilet seat. Cool porcelain against the back of her thighs was reminiscent of Ina’s frigid grasp in her dream. Nightmare? Memory? What the hell was that? A shiver started at her shoulders and trickled down her spine. She sat up straight.

One of the way too long sleeves drooped over Julie’s hand. Bringing the fabric up to her nose, she inhaled the embedded Dean scent under the detergent. The inhales and exhales dragged out slow.

Her eyes took in the functional, clean surroundings of his nicely updated bathroom. Modern, smokey grey subway tiles, lined with a lighter grey grout, had been installed with care on the floor. Her toes dug into the cushioned powder blue rug that ran the length of the walk-in shower and ended in front of the throne. Actually a pretty comfy seat.

There were fancy chrome faucets and sprayers behind clear, pristine glass doors. Those doors were a pain to clean at the old house. I was always lazy about that. Got dull and filmy. But, these? Not a water spot to be spotted. Impressive. A veined grey and white marble shower interior looked sleek and expensive. A pedestal sink and rather large mirror resided next to a repurposed bookcase storing rows of plushy grey and white towels, toiletries and male necessities. She made a mental note of the cologne he wore. The robe on the door hook produced a grin. He’d look like Hugh Hefner in that.

I wonder if he did all these updates. If not, he paid someone a decent amount of cash to renovate and make it really nice. Was it in horrible condition when he moved in or is this a really important space for him? File that question away for later.  

The nosey inventorying of Dean’s bathroom had distracted her. She then realized she should probably pee and dropped her panties and situated for the task. Her hands grabbed the forgotten phone lying nearby on the tile. She rifled through messages. There had been a handful from Cat, who’d been checking up on her daily since finding out about the ordeal.

How you holdin’ up? Let me know if you want me to bring Sal and Pep by to run amok in your backyard.

I’m not sure if this is going to help… found something, I think, related to Dean.

Check in with me soon, K?

I think it’s important for you to have all the details.

Ciao Bella.

Her stomach flipped at the one line she read over and over. I’m not sure if this is going to help… found something, I think, related to Dean.

“No.” She whispered. “Shit.” She wanted to remain ignorant. Live in this fantasy space with him for a little longer. Reality was only going to complicate things and make her question everything.

Maybe, though… maybe this is fate intervening.

She groaned.

But, he’s hot and sweet and even makes grumpy sexy. Makes me laugh. Makes me feel safe. What details are going to change all of those inherently authentic things about him?

Maybe it’s something about his family. His mom. Could fit some pieces together.

A low rap on the door shot her head up. “Jules? You okay in there?”

“Y-yeah.” She squeaked out. “Why?”

“Been gone twenty minutes.”

Shit. She frowned, stood, and pulled her panties up. A quick flush and washing of hands followed.

Upon opening the door, a wary smile met her in the dark hallway. Dean leaned into the door frame and inspected her. “Your side of the bed was getting cold.”

She waved her phone, identifying it as the culprit. “Lost track of time.”

“Can’t sleep?” He stepped closer, hesitant. He’s feeling me out. Waiting to see if I’ll hit the panic button. “Do you want me to take you home, sweetheart? Maybe you’ll sleep better. This bed’s not the comfiest.” He sighed. “I miss my memory foam.”

“Do you want me to go home?” she asked.

“God, no.” His still not quite awake features frowned. “I haven’t slept that solid in forever.”

She grinned. “That’s not because of me. That’s because you waited weeks to do what you should have been doing.”

His face lit up at her lightened attitude. “You had a little something to do with it.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt right above Julie’s knees. “Come back to bed, baby.”

Julie swallowed down a moan. Reality can wait until tomorrow. She nodded.

That smile flashed. The one that gave her a front seat to all his pearly whites. He led the way back down the hall. Low light from the open bedroom door split right between his bowlegs. He was a bulk, wholesale package of muscles and strength. She laughed when he spun and flung his body on the bed, making the headboard creak and the mattress bounce. It took some seconds for the motion to subside.

“Are you trying to break it?”

He shrugged and smirked. “Just prepping it for the workout it’s going to get soon.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You really haven’t…”

He shook his head. “No one else’s been in this bed except for me… until now. And, you’ve got me fully believin’ there’s a lot more in store. Italians do do it better. At least this full-blooded Italian sex kitten standing right here in front of me does.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Even with the comical expression on his face, she managed to feel heat rush to her cheeks. “How do you know I’m full…” She shook her head and strolled to the bed, dropping onto the mattress with as much grace as she could muster. A suggestive scoot closer had him do the same. She leaned her head upon an elbow to match his positioning. “You’ve investigated my ancestry, too? What did you do, grab a DNA sample?”

His free hand cupped her jaw. He leaned in and licked her mouth open. “Both parents from Italy. That’s as far as I went. This is as close to banging Sophia Loren in her heyday as I’m gonna get.” Peridot eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Say something in Italian.”

She groaned. “I don’t speak it well. I mean, I’ve listened to my mom and dad speak it a ton growing up. But, it never really stuck up here.” She tapped the side of her forehead. “And, Sophia Loren, really?”

Dean shrugged. “Lots of Sunday afternoons in front of the television growing up. Plus, she was smokin’ hot.” The hand skirted over her neck and shoulder, along the curves and dips of her back to rest on an ass cheek. “Try. For me.” He pushed her body in to meet his, fingers squeezing the globe. “Please.”

She sighed and shut her lids. Electric pulses flowed at the feel of him everywhere they connected. He was tight and rigid. Hot and hard. Her eyes opened, drowning into those beautiful eyes, and then she whispered, “Che cosa vuoi?”

She watched his smile double in size. “What the hell does that mean?” An innocent wonder filled his face, in direct opposition of the clothed erection he rubbed into the slit of her thighs. “And say it again.”

She giggled and moaned at the same time. “It means what do you want? Che cosa vuoi?”

“Che cosa vuoi?” He repeated. The deep throttle in his voice strummed into her core. She bit her lip at how sexy the foreign words, though stilted and choppy, dripped from that luxurious mouth. Dean’s eyes narrowed in focus. A thumb swiped over her bottom lip. “How do you say ‘kiss you’?”

The apples of her cheeks rose. “Ti bacio.”

“Ti bacio.” He repeated that as well, planting a delicate kiss, cradling her jaw. “How about ‘be inside you’?” His brows did a quick double rise.

She moaned, flustered at the request. “I don’t know. Inside is ‘dentro’. I’ll work on my translations for next time.”

Using his bodyweight, Dean collapsed Julie onto her back in a second. Air whooshed out of her lungs. He’d tucked his forearms under her armpits, the crook of his elbows wedging in place. Strong hands emerged alongside and caged her face and forced her back to arch into him.  “Hm.” He licked her mouth. Her jaw dropped open at the way he manipulated and immobilized her head with those meaty fingers. The tongue swirled and dipped in the wetness of her mouth. “Dentro.” He mumbled. His ability to dominate and overpower ignited her skin. Lumberjack thighs parted her comparatively smaller ones. The boxer briefed cock rutted against her damp panties, wiggling into position and only increasing her fluid production.

“Dean…” She whispered.

Lips moved to her neck. His scruff burned like sandpaper against the skin. “Say my name again, sweetheart.” The words poured out hot and impatient.

“Dean.”

Dean groaned. He bit into the flesh along her collar bone. Julie gasped. Then, he sucked and worried at the same spot of skin with pursed lips and the tip of his tongue. All the while sliding his erection into the material along the folds of her pussy. He leaned up and locked eyes with her. Whatever air left in her lungs released at the raw, worn beauty of this man. “Really wanna be inside you, Jules.”

Hands she realized she’d been using to grip onto his back clenched the rippling muscles.

His lips parted, breath even. “Can we? Will you be alright?” He searched her face, she knew, for some hint of hesitance. “If it’s too soon after all of it…”

“Dean…”

His lids closed at hearing his name. “I don’t only mean what's happened recently. I mean, that’s its own bag of crap that no one, especially you, should have ever had to go through.” Eyes opened as he continued to dry hump her in the most amazing way, unhurried yet purposeful. “But, all of it… after Steve…” He sighed, relishing the feel as much as she was. “We could just keep it fun, simple, easy… just like this.”

“Surface level?” Julie questioned, gauging him now.

He smirked. “That’s your guaranteed best experience with me. No muss, no fuss.” In an instant, the carefree gesture washed away. “You want me to be honest with you. There’s a lot, Jules…”

Her lids pressed tight together. “I did say that, didn’t I? Can you be honest with me, then, in this moment, right here and now?”

His arms untangled from his stronghold. She felt the shift of his body, him pull away, leaning into the crook of her side now. Shit, why did I ask him that? “Yes.” The word came out sure, laced with heavy conviction.

Julie took a deep breath and opened her eyes. When his eyes met hers, he didn’t waver, waiting, hovering.

“Any plans on hurting me?” He raised a brow. She shook her head and tried not to laugh. “Besides kinky plans.”

A curl of a smile. “No. Of course not.”

“Are you scared about being honest with me?”

Dean shifted on his elbow, his eyes breaking contact.

That was an answer in and of itself, but Julie tried again. You don’t ask a man like Dean Winchester if he’s scared. “Worried?”

Dean’s finger played with one of her curls. He breathed in, then spoke on the release of air.  “My life was… is, still complicated. Not many people would be able to understand. Or, want to.”

She nodded, took the words time to settle around them. “Why’d you put your life at risk to search for me?”

“Aside from it being in my DNA?” His eyes drifted back and stared at her mouth. “I didn’t want to lose you. I just found you.”

She smiled. A stinging in her eyes threatened to release tears. But she batted them away with quick blinks. “That’s all the honesty I need for tonight, then.” Dean smiled. His eyes were glassy, too, and that made Julie’s heart stop for some seconds. Fingers reached up and stroked his jaw. “Maybe another question.”

Dean’s head dropped in a dramatic fashion. His brows crinkled and his eyes narrowed, accompanied by a hard stare. “One more, sweetheart.” The authoritative tone was back and Julie’s arousal returned.

“Who’s made you feel safe?” She asked, her voice trembling.

His head tilted at the question. A foreign mix of wonder and confusion spread over his face. “What do you mean?”

“Who, in your life, made you feel really safe?” She rephrased.

Dean did that mental rolodex thing she’d come to enjoy witnessing. His eyes darted away and his lips did a slight tuck back into his mouth. Julie’s stomach twisted at how long it took him to find an answer. But, she saw him come up with one. His lips popped back out. The right side of his mouth angled up. When he turned to her he stated, “Baby.”

At first, Julie thought he was calling her another term of endearment. The word finally connected in her brain to the subject matter. “Your car?”

He smiled.

Julie could feel the frown form on her lips. “What about your parents?”

“No, sweetheart.” His smile remained, though it appeared forced. “They tried. I know they did. And, maybe I felt safe before I could really remember what that was... when I was really little.” He shrugged. “Baby’s always been there. Made me feel safe. Made me feel like I had a home. Somewhere I could hide, ride.” Dean collapsed onto the mattress, on his back.

Julie shot up, leaned on an elbow to study his face. The moment was awkward, clumsy now. I’ve fucked it all up.

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“What?”

“Sweetheart, no one’s ever asked me that before.” His lips tightened. He reached up and grasped the side of her neck. Fingers threaded into her hair, leading her face so he could study her again. “Why would you ask me that?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “I-”

“Why would you care?” Dean interrupted. No malice in the tone. Only genuine curiosity.

That triggered a response. “Why wouldn’t I? You make me feel safe. I wanted to know a little about the person that made you feel the same way. Figure out how-” she bit her lip and tore away from his eyes.

“What?” He prodded, tilting his head on the mattress to catch her expression under the waves of cascading hair.

She struggled with the words. “Figure out how I can make you feel safe.”

His brows knit together.

“When I left this bed earlier, you asked me if I was coming back.”

That distant, unsure look flooded his face again. “That didn’t mean anything.”

She smiled. And pushed. “I’ll always come back, Dean. If that’s what you want, what will make you feel safe. You deserve that, same as everyone else.”

His green eyes widened.

Her whole body was on fire, staring back at him. It wasn’t arousal or want. She felt exposed, emotions laid out to be either scooped up or tossed away. It had not been in any way how she expected this night to turn. But, now, in the moment, it felt necessary, needed. “I’m sorry.”

Dean’s face hardened. His mouth opened a fraction. That tongue swiped the back of his bottom row of white teeth. “We done with the questions?” The hold on her neck released.

She sat up straight and tucked some hair behind an ear. Confusion flooded her brain. “Yeah.” He hopped off the bed and wandered around the mattress to his dresser. All she could stare at was the back of him, which in any other circumstance would be quite pleasant. But she wanted to garner something, anything from his expression.

A loud sigh left his mouth. “You really are something.” His head shook. The profile presented itself as he bent at the knees to rifle through his record collection. “I don’t get anything out of you for weeks and then you hit me like a ton of bricks with everything in less than a day.” Dean didn’t look over, kept his eyes on the albums. His jaw clenched when he found something, slid out the sleeve from its confines and pulled out a record. A confident twirl of the album between his hands as he rose, the sleeve forgotten on the floor.

The record rested on the turntable. A flip switched. There was crackle and static. The record spun. The speaker waited for the track to play. Dean turned and stared at Julie. He flipped her heart the way he had the album. “I was hoping to make this last. But, you’ve made that impossible now, Jules.” Arms rose over his head. Fingers tugged at the collar and he pulled the t-shirt off in an elegant peel. “I was thinking, maybe, I could hold out for a few songs. But, it’s probably only gonna be one. And, if it’s only gonna be one...” He pointed at the flannel she wore. “Take off my shirt.”

“What?”

His right eyebrow cocked. “You said you were done with questions.”

Her mouth dried up.

Finally, a smile returned. “And, don’t say you’re sorry to me. Not again.” He shook his head. “Not ever.” A stride filled with that Dean confidence made its way to the nightstand. Two fingers pulled open the drawer. He bent down and rummaged. The tap of a foil package hit the table’s surface. A knee closed the drawer.

Julie knew this was coming tonight. Had been hoping, praying even, that nothing else would prevent this from happening. The nerves, the fright, the reality of it had made her hesitate with a pool of muddy, emotional thoughts instead of pure passion and action. Then, when she thought she had fucked it all up, with the words and the estrogen induced interrogation, this complication of a beautiful man had gotten the train back on track. But even scarier, he now seemed to be all aboard with the idea of making this night mean so much more.

“Come over here, baby.” He patted the mattress in front of his standing figure.

Julie gulped and crawled over the mess of sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. Her head tilted up. He grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “So very pretty.” She thought he must have been commenting on how he looked, perfection in light and shadow. “Take it off.” The command was soft.    

Her hands found the buttons and did not spare any time to strip herself of the shirt.

His smile widened along with his eyes. “Eager, too, huh?”

She smiled.

“Good. I won’t feel so bad when this is over in minutes.” He tore the foil package open and put it back on the table. His fingertips delved into the hair at the top of her head, combed down through to end at the swell of her left breast. He pressed his warm palm right over her heart. “You know how you hear a song and you connect it to a specific memory?”

She nodded.

Dean licked his lips and catalogued every inch of her breasts with a stare that melted her insides. “I have lots of memories with this one song. All good, maybe even great. Someone might even say this song makes me feel safe.”

Julie swallowed.

“Wanna make me feel safe, sweetheart?” He grinned.

“Yes, Dean.” She didn’t hesitate in her response.

“Alright, then.” Dean broke eye contact and walked back to the record player. He cocked his head and smiled at Julie. “We’re gonna work on our night moves, baby.”

Dean could have said they were going to work on their taxes and Julie knew it would sound just as fucking sexy.

He dropped the needle in place and made a beeline toward her. A guitar strummed and filled the room. He dipped down, caught her lips with his open mouth. His arms wrapped her up, laid her down on the bed. Once again, the weight of him pressed against her side. She moaned when he rose up to his knees on the mattress, disconnecting. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, and pulled them down past her hips. She brought her own knees up to assist. His lips mouthed to the lyrics as he removed the last of her clothing. Her lips tugged up at the show.

She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes ***

And points all her own sitting way up high

He tossed the panties to the floor and ran his hands up the length of her body, stopping to massage her breasts and give her nipples a slight twist. He mouthed the next line.

Way up firm and high

Julie giggled. He flopped down on his back, flesh of their arms rubbing, and without pomp or circumstance, pulled off his boxer briefs, singing along this time.

Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy

Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy

Workin' on mysteries without any clues

He fell silent now. Turned to stare at Julie. He held the open condom wrapper between two fingers and raised his brows again. She nodded. A low growl bubbled up from his throat. Her eyes dipped down to watch him work his cock. She knew it wouldn’t take long. She wanted to speak, say something. Every other time he’d wanted to hear her voice. But this time is different.

And we'd steal away every chance we could

To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods

I used her, she used me

But neither one cared

We were gettin' our share

He rolled the condom over his erection. His body rolled between her waiting thighs. The dominance and power was gone from the way he hovered. He kissed her lips, slow and easy. His fingers slipped into her wetness. He moaned into her mouth and lubed up his sheathed erection with her want. Every cell sparked under her skin. The tip of him poking with insistence at her entrance.

Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues

Workin' on our night moves

And it was summertime

Sweet summertime summertime

All of the instruments stopped for a second, then resumed their rhythm. Dean searched Julie’s face again. It was all there in those apple green eyes. The request, the need, the want. He wanted to speak, too, she could sense it. But this time is different. He pushed inside her, slow and easy, letting her accept, adjust, and respond to him as Mr. Seger sang.

And oh the wonder

We felt the lightning

And we waited on the thunder

Waited on the thunder

He didn’t ask if she was ready. He didn’t need to. Because this time is different.

He pulled back, eased inside again. His forearms held his body up for part of the sway. But when he tunnelled back, nice and slow at first, the delicious friction of his chest ran along her hard nipples. This wasn’t going to take long. Because this time is different. His pace increased, breath fumed out of his nose, jaw clenched every time he bottomed into her fully.

Dean’s rhythm was quick and steady now, firm and prodding, as the song did the exact opposite and slowed in its reminiscence. Heat rose in her core. He grabbed one of her legs, propped it up to hook onto his hip. His eyes never left hers through any of it. He found that spot deep inside. And worked. Hard. She gasped at how he lit her up from within. Grabbed his shoulders and held on. While he worked.

I awoke last night to the sound of thunder

How far off I sat and wondered

Started humming a song from 1962

She wrapped her calf tight, draped it over the curve of his tight ass muscles. He was using all of himself, drilling into her now. The sound of wood creaking, mattress springs straining. Moans toppled and stacked atop each other.

Ain't it funny how the night moves

When you just don't seem to have as much to lose

Strange how the night moves

With autumn closing in

The music stopped again. Dean stilled, froze. His forehead leaned against hers. “Baby?” He whispered.

“Yes, Dean.”

“You feel so safe.”

He pulled back and she got lost in his eyes. Her heart lodged up into her throat. He nodded with a smile and exhaled, sharp and low, as the guitar started up again. His fingers snuck between their bodies, strummed her clit. And he worked. All of him. With her. This is different.

She studied every movement of his face. The vertical line that formed between his brow, deep in concentration. The little craters that appeared above either side of his top lip, embedding into laugh lines, when he quirked up his mouth. The flare of his nostrils. The look she tried to define in his crystal green eyes boring into her, shining like glass. He brought her to release and rode the wave. His moans enveloped hers. She clenched her walls, tightening around him.

The end of the song was near and so was Dean. His mouth opened, he struggled out a strangled groan, body rigid in her embrace. And he came. Hard. His body shivered. He grinned, kissed her lips, and rolled them both to their sides. Still. Connected. This is different.

The song ended. Quiet for a few moments before the next track began. Dean swiped at her cheek. Julie felt the wetness under the pad of his thumb. She was crying. Oh, no.

Dean smiled. Pulled her in close and held her. He kissed her forehead. She forced away the tears, slowed her breathing. “Tell me those are good tears, sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear.

She nodded along the scruff of his jaw.

Kisses dabbed at her damp cheeks. “Good. Because we just made one hell of an awesome memory.”

She smiled. He kissed the apple of her cheek.

He moaned, pulled out of her, then stood up. Naked and glorious. He rolled off the condom as he spoke and tied it up. “Gotta use the bathroom. Coming back.” He wandered to the doorway, then turned back to look at her with a wide grin. “Always coming back.”

*** Lyrics from Night Moves by Bob Seger

~~~~~

Part 18

Series Page

[purplesurveys]

640

Your name, please? Robyn. Are you heartbroken right now? No, my heart’s doing okay. If so, how long have you been heartbroken? Do you like the area you live in? I like that it’s a lot quieter than the metro, but we get everything we could also get in the city nonetheless. Right now it’s just a little unsettling since the Taal Volcano erupted and we have ashfall land all over our house, but otherwise where we live is pretty decent and uneventful for the most part. Do you ever get complimented on your eyes? What color are they? It’s not my strongest feature so no, not really. They’re dark brown/almost black.

What facial feature do you like the best on a person? Everyone has their different strong suits, so. Do you like to be called baby? Only by my parents and my girlfriend, because otherwise that would be creepy. What is your favorite flower? I like roses, sunflowers, and peonies. Idk, my answers to this question changes every time so it’s safe to say they’re only my favorites today. When did you last use the restroom? Five minutes ago. I went before starting this. How long is your hair? Pretty long. I haven’t had it cut since late in 2018; if I throw my head slightly back it already reaches my hips. I plan to keep it long until my graduation shoot, so I won’t be going to the salon for at least another month. Do you have braces? I used to. Do you have any freckles? Nope. What is your favorite Internet meme? There was a local meme going around last week and it involved people making hilarious puns out of celebrity names and pairing them with Photoshopped pictures of the celebrities to match the pun – for example, a local celeb named Rico Blanco was styled as Rico Blanket and a photo of him was shopped so that he’s in bed wrapped in a blanket :(((( OK IT DOESN’T SOUND FUNNY RN but all the entries were hilarioussssss I swear. Unfortunately everyone hopped on the meme train and it died in like a week. How many windows does your room have? Two big windows but each have four tiny window panes in them that can be opened. Do you have a rug in your room? What color is it? No. My dog likes peeing on rugs so we don’t like having them laying around. What is the weirdest animal you've ever held? I don’t think any animal is weird... but the coolest ones I’ve ever held are a snake, an eagle, a sea turtle, and a crocodile. The first three I got to meet in Bali, and the crocodile was from Palawan. Do you get extremely hyper when under the influence of sugar? No. I never really believed in that either. What about caffeine? I get pretty talkative, yes. I also talk like I have built-in exclamation points lol. Have you ever tried any drugs? If so, did you regret it? No, I haven’t. Do you have any pregnant friends? None of my friends are, but I can never be sure anymore when it comes to people I know. I always say no to this question, then sooner or later someone I know gives birth kfdgkdjfhd like a classmate from high school just had her third kid and no one even had any idea she was pregnant again. Guess I’ll just keep answering this question with a shrug. Have you seen anyone lately that you knew but didn't remember from where? Yeah, this was me for a few seconds when I arrived in my history class for our first day last Friday and I saw several people that I knew I know, but I had to recollect my thoughts. I eventually remembered who they were, but for a few seconds I was stumped. When was the last time you toilet papered or egged someones house? I’ve never done this, because you don’t do this in the Philippines. Do you usually dress up for Halloween? Some years I would. When ordering food, what do you usually get as a drink? I always get ala carte because I only drink water (I get full quicker if I have any other drink), and service water is always there. Put your favorite color and favorite animal. EX: Silver walrus Pink dog. When drawing something, do you try to be super precise or do you not care? I don’t care for drawing and am aware of just how bad I am at it, so I barely make any effort when I have to. When was the last time you snapped at someone? Sunday morning. My mom was playing a mobile game where the character will only be able to move if you scream, so she was screaming her ass off at 7 AM and I was worried it would wake the neighbors up. Does it bug you when people clap with their palms? HAHAHAHAHA like Nicole Kidman? Oh man. I’ve never actually seen someone clap the way she did in real life, so I don’t know if it would bug me. I know it’d send me laughing, though. Have you hugged anyone today? Just my dog. Classes have been suspended because of the Taal erupting, so I’m not seeing anyone else today. How many languages do you know how to say 'happy birthday' in? Filipino, English, Spanish, French, and Korean, so make that five. What language would you like to learn that you don't already know? Korean, just because I watch so many Korean shows as it is lmao. Are you able to take this language at your school? Yes, but it’s not required in my curriculum so I’ve never taken a Korean language elective. Have you ever been into a bar? Yes, I’ve always preferred bars to clubs so I’ve gone to a lot of them. What ethnicity are you? Broadly, Austronesian. But specifically, I’m Filipino, and even more specifically, Tagalog. How much makeup do you wear? None. I usually wear makeup only for special events, or if I absolutely had to, like for my graduation shoot. If you could fly, what kind of wings would you have? I’d like pink sparkly ones please hahahaha. Write some lyrics from the song stuck in your head right now. Nothing’s playing in my head at the moment. Do you like that song? Would you describe yourself as 'fiesty'? You mean feisty? I can bring out that side of me if I have to, but I’m not naturally it. How corny is High School Musical in your opinion? Pretty fucking corny. But I love the series and it’ll always be an important part of my childhood, so I’m never going to hate it. Have you actually read Twilight? Yes. I don’t know how I started getting into it though; I just remember it became insanely popular in the fourth grade and all of a sudden I wanted the Twilight boxed set for Christmas. What about Harry Potter? Yes, I read most of the books. My sister got into HP when she was aroundddd 10-11ish and my parents also got her a boxed set, so I borrowed each book after she finished them. Out of the two, which is better? Twilight.

Name a member of the Beatles! Ringo Starr. Who was the name of your first crush? My first real crush was Andi. How long ago was that? Eleven years ago. Do you still know that person? She migrated to New Zealand nine years ago, so we got disconnected for a long time and that’s when we got cut off. We’re Facebook friends now, but it’s never been the same. Happy for her, though. Can you handle your emotions very well? Usually I can, but when I’m at my breaking point then I’m at my breaking point. How often do you read books? Once every five years :(( JK uhhhhh I read loads, just not from books, and particularly not anything fictional. Are you the jealous type? I can be when there’s reason to, yep. Are you the type of person who gets jealous of people's pasts? No. And usually people regret their past, so I don’t feel jealous about that. Have you ever gotten an ear infection from riding an airplane? No. My ears were incredibly uncomfortable during my first plane ride though, and it didn’t help that I was already panicking long before the flight started. Anyway, my ears never fully ~popped and I was like 80% deaf for the entire plane ride. When was the last time you witnessed someone throw up? The last time someone threw up, it was me lol. But if we’re gonna be strict about the question, it wassssss last April I think. When was the last time YOU threw up? Sometime around May last year. Do you know anyone who faints at the sight of blood? ME. I’m anyone who faints at the sight of blood. Maybe not literally faint but I do feel super nauseous and weak and dizzy and I’d sometimes gag too. Hmm. I wonder how those girls have their period. Yeah well it’s not a very fun 3-4 days for me, my dude. Don't you just love the Cottonelle puppy? I don’t know what that is. Can you do any 'magic' tricks? No. Do you know how to play Checkers? I used to as a kid, because we used to have lots of board games. But since it was the game we barely ever played, I eventually forgot the rules. What clubs are you in at school? I’m in one of the two journalism organizations, and I also joined the graduation committee this year so that I get to contribute something for our batch :) What do you fear most in this world? Either falling from a very high place or drowning. And injections. What do your siblings fear most in this world? I know my sister is afraid of big crowds, chaotic situations, and small spaces. I don’t know what my brother fears, nor do I really care. What was the last sentence you heard anyone say? I’m listening to a mukbang ASMR right now and the last thing the girl said was her basically describing what she’s about to eat. Is Taylor more of a boy's name or a girl's name? I know we’re not supposed to care about this anymore, but if I really had to think about this question I see it as a boy’s name. But I also see that it works on girls just as nicely, so. What about Dylan? Boy’s name. But it sounds so badass on girls, and I prefer it as a girl’s name. What colors are the eyes of your family members? Dark brown/black. Filipinos all look the same, dude. Are you related to anyone with red hair? No. Do you know anyone with super super green eyes? Other than celebrities, no. What color was your hair when you were little? It has always been black. What color is it now? ^ Were you a chubby baby? I was a pretty chubby young kid especially from the ages of 3-5, but I was an okay-sized baby/toddler. I’d be surprised if I was chubby considering my mom and dad are both slim. What is your favorite mythical creature? Not a fan of those. Do you know anyone with a mullet? No, I don’t think so. Put down a random word here. Watermelon. What is your favorite fruit? Avocado. Now what is your favorite flavor of lollipop? Chocolate. If you combine your 2 above answers and make a perfume would it smell good? Probably not. They’re so different. Do you always feel like you have to be the best? Yes. That’s why I always take it hard when I end up not being that. Are you looking forward to summer? Yes, because I’ll get to rest. No, because it will be my last summer until I die. Are you wearing socks right now or are you barefoot? I’m barefoot. Socks always feels like they’re there, and I don’t like that feeling. What's on your favorite necklace? I’m not regularly wearing any necklace these days. How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Around seven, which is okay for me. Which is better: gingerbread or butterscotch? Caramel or peanut butter? Nutella or chocolate? Do you own an iPad? We own a family iPad, but no one’s used it in a while. I was the one who used it last as a means to work and communicate, back when I broke my phone and didn’t have a new laptop yet in my first year of college. I honestly hope that iPad never dies on us, since there’s a load of great memories there. Do you watch Glee? No and as someone who hates song covers, I think I’m better off not watching it skksjfdhgfg. How hard is it for you to get out of bed in the morning? When that day would require me to do something I dread, like attend a class I hate, it will be a lot harder for me to get up. But generally I’m pretty okay, as long as I set my alarm 30 minutes to an hour before I actually have to get up so that I have enough time to properly wake up. How many books are in the current room you're in? I’m in the dining room so there are zero books around. Have you ever witnessed an aircraft break the sound barrier? No. I also never really knew what that means, but I know I’ve never seen that. Do you keep a sketchpad in your room? I don’t draw, so I never needed one. Is there anything you do right before you go to sleep? Put water on my dog’s bowl – he likes drinking before we doze off. What color is your favorite purse? I only use one and it’s pink. How much money is currently in your wallet? ₱2,000. Do you get an allowance? Yes. How many songs are on your iPod? Don’t use an iPod these days. Do you usually have sweet dreams or nightmares? My dreams are either weird or nightmares. I never get any sweet ones. How has the weather been lately? It’s a little gloomy and cloudy. I don’t know if it’s an effect of the volcano eruption nearby, or if the weather is just like this. When was the last earthquake you felt? It was either August or September.

[artificialqueens]

Sweet Music Playing in the Dark: Ch. 1- Fire Escape (Craquaria)- Dill

hi everyone!! it’s been a while since i’ve submitted on this blog, but i decided to give it another go! this is the first chapter of a new fic i wrote a while ago and i’m (finally) almost done with the next chapter! you can find me @ drdill on AO3 as well as the remaining chapters of Home (the first fic i wrote)

I hate elevators.

You wait for half an eternity in the lobby fresh off your 9-to-5, only to crowd into a little 4x6 room just like every tired, irritable person around you, then stop at

Every.

Single.

Floor.

Don’t get me started about the summer when sweat becomes a factor. It’s a free, disrespectful sauna. If I didn’t live on the eighth floor, I’d take the stairs, but what sociopath would willingly do that?

It’s a Friday in late May, particularly Memorial Day weekend. The chipping cream-colored paint in the lobby paired with dirty maroon rugs welcomes me off the sunny Brooklyn streets. Most people around are eager to escape for the next couple of days, but I’m sequestered to my apartment to research the new summer color trends. How riveting. The bell rings as the doors open. Walking on quickly, I press the button and seclude myself in the corner. I feel like a fucking sardine, begging no one tries to speak to me as I put my earbuds in. Every “excuse me,” and quick neighbor catch-up is silenced by Bowie and the drums of “Fame.”

Though I’ve never spoken to anyone in this elevator, I somehow know all of them. There’s Joanne, who’s always in a hurry for no goddamn reason, Alan, the workaholic accountant whose undereye bags could be an airport carry-on item, Mike that calls his wife when he gets in the elevator, then gets mad when the signal cuts out, some others whose habits are mildly concerning, and me- the art school dropout. It’s a melting pot of people pretending to have their shit together until they step foot into this building.

I count the floors: 2, 3, 4, 5, and one by one, they shuffle off while I bob my head to the music. Finally able to breathe, I shift out of the corner when I notice a new guy hiding behind Mike. He’s shorter, no more than five and a half feet with umber hair that’s faded on the sides. His wardrobe might as well be a walking Gap advertisement- a powder blue button-up and khakis paired with matching brown belt and shoes. One last person gets off on the seventh floor before it’s just the two of us, causing more confusion when I realize he’s going to the same place I am. Why haven’t I seen him before?

He’s oblivious to my stare, scrolling through his phone. I’d be lying if I said he was my type, but I’d be lying more if I said he wasn’t pretty cute. His pants hug his hips nicely, showcasing his ass before my eyes wander to the front of his-

Pull yourself together, Giovanni. You can’t mind-fuck a stranger in the elevator.

A small hop and the doors open to the eighth floor. He follows me out, still ignorant of his surroundings, ice shuffling around in his coffee as he takes a sip. I reach my door and fumble with the keys when I notice he’s unlocking the door next to me.

That’s��Kevin’s place, as in my very loud, dark-skinned neighbor of 2 years, not this puny white guy. Based on his physique, there’s a zero percent chance he mugged Kevin, so why does he have a key? When he opens the door I hear him enthusiastically say “Hi, Muffin!”

Muffin is Kevin’s cat, so he clearly knows him well enough to be chill with the world’s most evil cat. Regardless, I get inside, throw my stuff on the kitchen table, and give Kevin a call.

“What’s up, G?” He sounds like he’s in a car.

“Hey, I just watched a very small white man walk into your apartment way too happy to see your demon-child.” I’m talking in a low voice as if he’ll hear me through the concrete walls.

His laugh erupts through my phone. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally forgot to tell you!”

“Kevin if this is another guy you met two weeks ago that ‘is definitely the one,’ I’m gonna move out. He’s clearly not your type.”

“Calm down, bitch! It’s just my friend Max. He’s moving here from Seattle in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the area. I invited him to stay at my place for the weekend while I’m gone. I just dropped him off from the airport.”

Ah, so that’s Max. Kevin’s mentioned his friend from college a few times but never gave much description. I was imagining someone a bit…taller. And more muscles for a guy with a black belt. It’s underwhelming.

“Rude of you to leave without saying goodbye, but I guess I’ll survive sitting alone outside.” Kevin and I have some intense solidarity from hating our neighbors and sharing a fire escape. Not a day goes by in warm weather without a quick chat on the metal platform. It all started with a false alarm one Tuesday night, causing both of us to run out like idiots and get to talking.

“I’m just going to visit my fam. My sister’s been bugging me to come and see her new house.”

I sigh dramatically. “My blunt and I will miss you dearly, princess. See you Monday?”

“You bet! Love you girl!”

“Love ya, bye.”

I hang up and think about my next move. Do I go over and say hi? That’s way too forward. Do I stay inside all weekend and act like I don’t know he’s here? Well, that would just make me a rude fake-neighbor. Neither sound too appealing at the moment. I settle for a compromise: I will introduce myself…tomorrow- let him get his feet wet a little bit in Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him around more often if he’s moving here soon, anyway. Satisfied with my plan, I make myself a grilled cheese because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and get to work on my research.

—-

Dusk falls over the city and I’ve spent too long staring at Pantone’s Tumeric and Pepper Stem swatches with reference photos from fashion week. I form a makeshift portfolio for the editors and close my laptop. For finishing ahead of schedule, I roll a celebratory blunt and head for the fire escape.

A deep blue swallows the sky with a bright yellow streak as the sun sets over downtown. The temperature has finally cooled down as I step through my window and touch my sandal on the serrated metal beam. Supporting myself on the railing, I feel the night breeze run across my skin and catch my v-neck before raising the blunt between my lips, sparking the lighter quickly, and inhaling deeply. A quick burn runs through my throat on the first drag, eyes closed as I let the remaining smoke exhale to the sky. The streets are pretty peaceful at this hour, probably because there’s nothing around me but nail parlors, shoe stores, and boutiques that close at 6pm. My temporary neighbor has been suspiciously quiet all day. Normally I can hear Kevin washing his dishes or watching TV when I’m out here, so maybe he’s gone out for the night.

I’m about halfway through my joint when I hear blasting, stark trumpets from behind. Confused, I turn around and detect the sound coming from Kevin’s window, slightly cracked. I creep over to investigate, walking softly so the platform doesn’t rattle, slowly peeking through a slit in the curtain to see Max belting what sounds like “Boogie Wonderland” and dancing around Kevin’s kitchen. Now I can see why they were friends in college.

He’s cooking dinner- some type of pasta, adding pepper on beat and shimmying his shoulders. Those hips of his get put to work, scooting across the floor to grab the garlic bread and place it in the oven. It’s mesmerizing; hilarious, yet adorable, and I can’t look away. I start to realize how long I’ve been staring and get out of sight before he sees me. Somehow, I’m comfortable spying on this man but not knocking on the door and greeting him. Congrats, Gio. You’re officially a creep.

Max must be in a disco mood when the song fades out and “Relight My Fire” immediately follows. I’m giggling at the situation I’ve found myself. This definitely beats the same three Nicki Minaj songs Kevin plays on repeat while he cleans, so I might as well enjoy myself while it lasts. I finish the blunt as I begin dancing around the fire escape like an idiot, bouncing around and singing lightly to myself:

“Relight my fire,

Your love is my only desire,

Relight my fire,

Cause I nee-”

Spinning with my eyes closed might not have been the smartest idea. On my third rotation, my left sandal gets caught on the ladder as I started to move forward. My right knee hits the platform first, followed by my right hand, then elbow, then hip. A loud crash supported by sharp pain in my knee is enough to know I fucked up, and I will probably be getting some company out here soon.

The music ceases. Shit. I hear footsteps getting closer, my back facing the windows. The curtains are pulled back as a voice says “Oh my God!”

I look over my shoulder and see Max open the window and pop his head out. His face reads as really confused, but concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah I’ll be okay,” I reply as I try to push myself up, hissing when I bend my knee. Looking down, I see a trail of dark red run down my leg. Great.

“Here, let me help you clean that up.” He motions me to come inside the apartment. Knowing that I fully don’t own band-aids like a dumbass, I have no choice to accept. I scoot my way over to the window and take his hand.

“‘Tis but a scratch,” I joke, lifting my leg onto the windowpane. He’s laughing while gently pulling me into the apartment. I take my previous statement back about his lack of muscles. His bicep is about to pop through the shirt sleeve, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that.

“I’m Kevin’s friend Max, by the way.”

“I’m Gio. I promise this isn’t a normal welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m shaking my head smiling.

“It’s better than the homeless guy that showed me a magic trick outside the coffee shop earlier,” he giggles.

He puts my arm around his shoulder and rests his at my waist as he walks me over to the kitchen chair, slowly drops me off, and props my leg on another. The apartment is lit dimly, only the lights above the stove and oven providing a yellow tinge to the room. I see a large pan of chicken alfredo and I’m suddenly hungry again. He turns off the burner, runs a washcloth under some cold water, and kneels next to me, lightly dabbing the wound to soak up the blood.

“Hold that there while I get some ice to help the swelling.” Our hands lightly brush against each other as he gets up to go to the fridge. I’m trying to understand the amount of care he’s giving me. He’s such a nice guy; I’m a complete stranger and he’s treating me better than most of my exes.

He grabs a zip-top bag from the drawer and starts filling it with ice.

“So, what brings you to Brooklyn?” I ask him, acting like I didn’t speak to Kevin hours ago.

“I’m getting relocated for work. The publishing company says they need my ‘talents’ in the New York office.” He’s using air quotes, blatantly unamused.

“Jeez, don’t sound so excited about it,” I smirk. He gives a soft smile, closing the freezer door.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy about the job or moving here, I just want more time write my own stuff instead of editing other people’s work.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Trying to be.” He shrugs, coming back to my side and lightly placing the ice above my scrape. I wince as the cold towel touches my skin.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “It sucks not getting to do what you’re passionate about, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a little bit- the tales of a struggling artist.

“Do you want some wine? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by myself.”

“Red or white?”

“White.”

“I could have a glass or two.” He smiles and heads back to the kitchen to get glasses and a wine opener.

“So,” he says twisting the corkscrew in, “what’s your story?”

I sigh deeply. “Moved here from Philly, dropped out of art school last year, haven’t told my parents yet, working at a fashion magazine on complete luck.”

“Holy shit, how’d you manage that?”

“I modeled for a photographer to make some money right after I withdrew from classes, and he was friends with an editor there who was looking to hire an assistant.”

“Okay, that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

“That he and the editor were close?”

“No, that you were a model. Do you want ice?”

I’m slightly taken back while he pours two glasses.

“Wait, what?”

“Ice?”

“No. Well, yes, but no the other thing.”

“What? I’m not blind. You’re cute.” What a charmer. I’m looking down, containing the huge grin on my face from his line of sight.

“Thank you.”

He hands a glass to me and heads for the bathroom. I shudder when it touches my tongue, further supporting my hate for dry wine. However, it’s free, therefore I will drink it happily. Upon returning, he brings some ointment and various sized band-aids.

“I wasn’t sure what size you’d need,” he laughs.

After drying the area around my wound, he applies the ointment, then gently places the bandage overtop. Every action thus far has been with such tender composure, as if he’s performing surgery. Wiping his fingers off, he grabs his wine and sits next to me- not on in a chair, on the floor with his legs crossed. I think he’s suddenly my type.

We exchange stares with silent smiles, finally giving me time to admire his soft, chestnut eyes that crinkle each time he grins, as well as the little, curled hairs resting on his forehead.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” I blurt out.

“Oh, thanks,” he says, a bit flustered at the compliment. His eyes look away, only to avert to my ice pack that starts leaking. I feel a drop of water run down my leg onto the floor.

“Let me get you a new one.” he starts to stand up. “I can get it.” I sit up and reach, getting used to the pain.

Our hands meet one another’s again as we grab for the washcloth at the same time. A tension begins to form in the air when we lock eyes less than a foot from each other’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, breathing heavier than normal.

It feels like slow motion as I lean in closer and shut my eyes. I feel his left hand relocate from my knee to the base of my neck, our lips separated by centimeters, foreheads touching as I feel his breath right under my nose. My lips brush lightly against his when-

DIIIIIIIIING

The oven timer provides as much warning as the fire alarm. We jump away at the sound, hearts pounding from shock. Max starts regaining his composure before jumping up and shutting it off. He rests his arms on the counter, sighing before looking back at me, holding back a laugh.

“I think my garlic bread is done.” His head falls in his hands as he starts to laugh from embarrassment. I join in as I stand up for the first time, limping over to the counter, and grabbing a potholder. He opens the oven door for me, red-faced as I place the tray on the stove, still laughing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asks me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I smelled the garlic bread,” I giggle. He hands me a plate.

—-

I think I stayed at Kevin’s for about three hours. We talked about books, bonded over our dying love for Emma Stone, and gave each other new album suggestions while washing the dishes together. It felt so natural, to the point where we finished the bottle of wine even though I couldn’t stand it. A yawn builds up and I curse myself for getting tired, wishing I could stay until the sun rises.

“I think my bed is calling me,” I tell him. He nods.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, and this time, I’ll try not to trip on the fire escape.” His giggle becomes my new favorite sound after hearing it so much.

Our goodbye was a quick hug, nothing more than the attempted kiss before dinner when I duck out the window and climb into my apartment.

Having this one close to home will be dangerous.

[priincesspacificaarchive]

40) things you said when you met my parents crime au

[i’m too lazy to tag the meme anymore. i literally wanted to write some dipifica while i was one so i figured i’d get rid of these.]

This was stupid. Stupid and dangerous.

But also kind of necessary. And sad.

And maybe exciting? On a weird level. And nerve-wracking, of course.

Lioness’s gut trembles and tumbles with all the emotions spinning inside of her. Her husband reaches over the gear shift and takes her left hand, pulling it to his mouth for a brief kiss, eyes still on the road ahead. Mason always knew what she was thinking. He could mostly control it by now, but having been together so long he didn’t feel the need to when it was just the two of them. Unless she makes it blatantly obvious that he’s invading her privacy. There was always a little nudge, like he was knocking on the door to her head.

“They’re going to love you.”

“You haven’t spoken to them since you were nineteen, corazon.”

He looks over her and grins, “I know, and I know they aren’t going to like a lot of other things that we have to tell them. But they’ll be happy I’m there. And they’ll love you.”

“By penalty of death, right?” she deadpans.

He rolls his eyes and looks back to the road. “Of course not, that’s only the lackeys.”

Her hand tightens around his. “It’s nice, seeing you like this. Almost like-”

“Something about crossing the border, I guess. I feel like a kid again.”

She looks over and grins at him, squeezes his hand again. “Good.“

➢

He parks the sleek black car in front of the house, and the moderate home immediately makes her feel completely overdressed. He looks to her, eyes sweet. “You look perfect, North Star. You always do.”

Her smile is stiff now, but she nods and squeezes his hand in hers again. He pulls away from her, opens his door and steps around the front of the car to let her out. “You did tell them we were coming, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Did you tell them why?”

“No.” The firm voice. He’s still getting over it himself. Of course he is. Her hand reaches out to his and holds it, he grips back tight.

They start up the front walk, eyes set on the door. Two people burst from inside, greying hair and fogging glasses in the heat. The woman is short, and what Lioness imagines Mabel would’ve grown up to look like. The man at her side is a beaming smile, something she’s seen from both twins, but he’s definitely more rugged. Like Stan.

“Mason!” The woman cries, tears already streaming down her unmade-up face as she rushes down the steps to him. Mason lets go of her hand as his mother comes faster towards him, bolting right into his chest and clinging to him. His father comes down much slower, the way he clings to the railing reminding Pacifica of how old they must be. He stops right behind his wife, hands on her shoulders as if to pry her from their son, but gently. Mrs. Pines steps back, wiping at her eyes, as Mr. Pines wraps his son in a bear hug of his own. Mason is content in these, clinging just enough for her to know this is as anticipated a moment for him as it was for them.

Mrs. Pines fixes her glasses and finally looks at her.

“Oh, my.” She tugs Mr. Pines’ sleeve. “George, look. Dipper brought a girl home.”

The old nickname does the trick, and Mason pulls away from his father and wraps an arm around her waist. He clears his throat. “Mom, call me Mason. Please.”

His mother has the decency to blush. “Of course, dear. I’m sorry. I just can’t believe my little boy is all grown up now.” She wipes at her eyes again.

Mr. Pines wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and smiles that beaming grin at her. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Pacifica Northwest.” She looks to Mason. “Well, Pines now, isn’t it then? Or maybe I’ll hyphenate.” She looks back to his parents. “It’s nice to meet you.” She reaches a hand out, and Mrs. Pines grabs it and pulls her into a hug.

“Oh it’s so nice to meet you, Pacifica! The kids told us all about you when they first came back.”

Pacifica forces an awkward giggle. “All the good first, I hope.”

George looks down at her. “Not exactly.”

She shrinks under him, pulling from Mrs. Pines to the safety of Mason’s side. Her eyes flick up to him, a dark look on his face. He clears his throat. “Not now, Dad.”

Pacifica looks back to Mrs. Pines and grins again. “No worries, Mrs. Pines. Mason’s tired from the trip.” Her hand laces with his and she squeezes, hard. A warning.

Mrs. Pines shakes her head. “Oh please, dear, call me Maggie.”

Pacifica grins. “I see why the naming theme, then.”

She shrugs. “George actually picked them, I just thought they sounded nice together.” She smiles so big her eyes wrinkle. “Your name is so unique, though. How do you get a name like Pacifica?”

Pacifica’s turn to shrug. “Your great-great grandfather founds a town in the Pacific Northwest. It’s a family name, actually.”

She looks back to Mason, who is smiling down at her like the goddess he’s carved her out to be. Her eyes flick to George, “No hard feelings. I wasn’t a nice kid.” He nods, and Pacifica’s hand on Mason tightens, asking what he’s done. Nothing he whispers in her head, but she doesn’t believe him. Fine. Temporary brain shut down. He’s sleeping with his eyes open. He’ll wake up in a sec.

Wake him now.

A few seconds tick by as they all look at George, Maggie curious as to what’s going on. Then George blinks and he looks around. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

Pacifica’s grin feels plastic. “No problem, George.”

Maggie waves them all towards the house, insisting they get inside before they’re all eaten alive by mosquitoes.

➢

Mason brings in their bags, only enough stuff for a couple nights. They can’t stay, they won’t. Pacifica sorts through their things, hanging up only what absolutely must be hung, separating out toiletries, and organizing things for a speedy getaway if necessary. When she’s finished, she and Mason head down to the main living area, where Maggie is sitting in a corner chair, knitting. A smaller chair is next to hers, a pile of different yarns between the two.

“So that’s where Mabel picked it up.”

Maggie shrugs, looking up from her work sheepishly. “She wanted to. We used to sit here and work on projects together.”

Pacifica smiles and nods and feels like the doll her parents always wanted to build her into. The thought makes her skin crawl.

George is seated in a Lay-Z-Boy, eyes on the Wheel of Fortune episode playing. “Got this one figured out yet, son?” He asks, pointing to the puzzle on-screen as she and Mason take seats on the couch between the two. Pacifica sits closest to George, in case Mason loses his cool again. He leans over to her over the arm of the Lay-Z-Boy. “Lil Mase here used to solve these puzzles faster than anyone I knew.”

Pacifica looks back at the puzzle, only a few letters out.

“Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln,” Mason says, eyes never straying from the TV. A few minutes later the puzzle is finished. Mason was right.

George taps her shoulder and winks at her. “Told you.”

Maggie puts down her knitting, then nods at George. George shuts off the TV with the remote.

Mason takes a deep breath.

It’s time.

Maggie is still smiling so brightly and George is still basking in the glow of a re-ignition in his son. It feels wrong to tell them now.

Maggie looks right at Mason. “We’re so glad you’re home, Mason. Even if you came back just to say hi we’d be overjoyed.” She looks down at her knitting needles, fiddles with them. Nervous tic. Then looks back up at her son. “And we’re so happy to meet your wife, Pacifica. But you said on the phone that there were some things you needed to tell us?”

Mason nods, clears his throat again. He’d been planning what he’d say for days, and now Pacifica straightens his shirt collar, trying oh-so-subtly to remind him she was here. Mason nods. “Yeah. Mom, Dad. Things aren’t good up in Gravity Falls.”

George shakes his head. “We know, son. We’ve seen some footage about gang activity. Are you and Mabel safe?”

Mason shakes his head. “That’s what I came to tell, you, actually. Mabel’s missing. She has been for a long time. She was involved with something not quite right last I saw her. She and her partner have disappeared. We haven’t been able to find or contact her. We presume she’s dead.”

Maggie gasps, loud and just as motherly as Pacifica expected, but George’s reaction surprises her. He curls into himself, she thinks she hears sobs. She knew this wouldn’t go well, knew there’d be extreme emotions, but this was getting to be too much. Her empathy was spiked so high she felt sick. Mason places a hand on her thigh, warm and reassuring. She reaches a hand out to George and it hovers right over his shoulder. She’s scared to physically touch him while he’s like this. Scared of his reaction or what would happen if she caught more of his emotion than she already had.

“We wanted to tell you in person,” Pacifica says, her throat raw, tears clawing at her eyes. There’s a shine to Mason’s as well, but nothing falls from either of them. “We’ve alerted who we could, but because of what we’re scared she was involved with, we didn’t want to alarm them and have them go after her, or worse, spook her further and have her get even further away. We have who we can looking for her, any trace of her. We’re doing all we can.” And it was true, Mabel was known in town for disappearing and reappearing in grand ways, but since she’d been off the radar for months, Mason got worried. He ordered lackeys to be on the lookout for her, contacted those on her side, pleading as a concerned twin brother. Her disappearance has wrecked him further than he’d let anyone see. Not even she had seen the full extent of how he was handling this one.

She rests a hand over his, squeezing comfortingly.

The parents are consoled briefly, and then excuse themselves to their bedroom for the evening. Mason turns his hand to lace their fingers. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

➢

He leads them up the stairs, past their guest room, to a pair of doors at the end of the hall. Mason’s nickname in black on a blue door. Mabel’s in rainbow colors and glitter on a pink one, the letters haphazard, while Mason’s are neat, almost blocky.

“Your old rooms?”

“Figured they’d have moved them around by now, but the doors don’t even seem touched.” He runs two fingers over the doorknob on his old door and examines them. No dust. He shakes himself out, then grabs the knob fully and opens the door. “I got to see your room. A lot, even. It’s only fair I let you see mine once.”

Pacifica steps through the doorway, and she feels twelve and haughty and on-top-of-the-world again. It’s like feeling the kid that Mason left behind. The walls are blue, the same blue as the door, a conspiracy board over his desk off to her left, his bed straight across the room. There’s a bookshelf, with mystery books and conspiracy theories and school trophies. Science club. She steps further into the room, hands gently running over anything she can reach. Mason flips off the lights, the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling still have some green to them. He flips them back on, then walks over to her, hands on her hips, pulling her to him. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. For doing this. For taking this journey with me.”

“I love you,” she responds simply, blue eyes glowing in the moonlight coming through the window. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Even when I go places you can’t follow?”

“If you mean your head, I can get in there pretty easy. But if you mean a public bathroom…” she trails off with a bright grin, feeling like a teenager with him again.

He laughs, soft but genuine. He presses his forehead to hers, and she shifts, leaning up to kiss his birthmark.

[officialleehadan]

Difference of Opinion

The decorator was sweet, and interesting, and if Kevin didn’t have to keep an eye out for his ghostly housemates, he would probably flirt with her.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth Did Not like her, and was intent on making things difficult.

And so Hannah, who really did seem like a nice lady, was also hanging onto her sanity by a thread. She jumped at every sound, and flinched every time the old doors were slammed almost on her heels by a very territorial ghost.

Knowing what he knew now, Kevin was doing his best to run interference. After all, he had asked her to come back, if only so that his ghosts could make up their minds about her.

It was not going well.

Maybe it was time for the direct approach.

“Elizabeth, knock it off,” he sighed as he caught poor Hannah’s coffee for the third time. Elizabeth scowled at him, and her face flickered between human, and a grinning skull with long, vicious teeth. “Really. You said you would give her a chance.”

“I said no such thing,” Elizabeth hissed poisonously, and cast a dozen shadows at once and made the room shake warningly. “This is my house.”

“You can see them?” Hanna whispered, nearly as ghost-white as Elizabeth, hands clenched on the table. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, or, well, they’re actually there,” Keven told her, and looked at Elizabeth again, who was scowling. “We’re not changing the house. We’re looking at rugs for the hallway.”

“But they’re real?” Hanna insisted, her eyes so wide he could see the whites all the way around. “I thought…”

That actually served to bring Elizabeth up short.

“You did not know what we are?” she demanded, still angry enough to make the lights flicker. “How could you not know?”

Hannah was starting to look faint.

“You’re kind of a lot,” Kevin pointed out, and guided Hannah over to a chair. “Are you going to drop a beam on her if I go get some water?”

Elizabeth considered it.

Hanna turned slightly green around the lips.

Kevin sighed.

Franklin appeared out of the wall, shyly holding hands with his barely-there lover, Henry. They both froze at the sight of everyone in the living room.

Elizabeth wavered, torn between her dislike of poor Hannah, and her fondness for Franklin and Henry.

The fondness won out, and she nodded to Kevin.

“Go,” she gave in reluctantly. “I will restrain my temper until you return.”

“Thanks,” Kevin said dryly and patted Hanna’s shoulder. “Breathe. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He ducked into the kitchen for a glass of water, and glared at the tap until it poured water, instead of blood. He was getting tired of that trick. It always made the water taste funny, even after running clean for a while. He let the tap run, and glanced around, feeling the shiver down his neck that announced one of his ghostly housemates.

“I know she’s in a mood, but can you talk her down? I think there’s something we’re missing,” he said quietly, but aloud. William was around. He always was when Elizabeth was in a temper. “You’re probably the only one she’ll listen to.”

William shimmered into view, barely visible in the bright kitchen.

“Why should I?” he questioned mildly. “I do not see that the situation has changed.”

“We don’t even know what the situation is,” Kevin muttered, and headed back for the living room with the water. “Here, Hannah. Okay, let’s start from the top. This is Elizabeth. She’s the original owner of the house. Her husband William is still here too. Franklin and his boyfriend came later, and there are five other full-form ghosts who exist here.”

“Six,” Elizabeth corrected shortly. “You’ve not met Prudence.”

“The footsteps in the attic?” Kevin had hear the signs of at least two other ghosts he didn’t know, but he wasn’t sure if they were full manifestations or echoes.

“Yes.”

“Okay. So, ten ghosts live here. Elizabeth is the oldest and the most powerful, and I do what I can to take her opinion into account before we change anything about the house.”

“Is that what happened when I brought in the paint swatches?” Hannah was rallying well all things considered, for all that her hands shook where they were wrapped around the glass of water. “My coffee cup kept spilling.”

“Change nothing,” Elizabeth hissed, her face flickering back to her death-head again. “And the grey was ugly.”

“It would have looked good with the navy accents,” Hannah protested, professional pride waking enough to defend her work, even against a ghost. “And that incredible rug we found up in the crawlspace.”

“I brought that back from Persia,” William appeared out of nowhere and startled Hannah so badly she almost dropped her water. “I never got around to putting it out. There should be three more that match it, in different sizes.”

“Okay,” Kevin sat across from Hannah and pulled out her style book. “Hannah, I know this is a lot, but I need a favor from you.”

“Okay?” she asked, the color slowly coming back into her face as she mastered herself bravely. “What can I do?”

“Elizabeth is now your client,” he said, and smiled up at his surprised ghostly housemate. “This is her house, and I’m a temporary resident by her standards. So here’s what we’re gonna do; I’ll bankroll everything- within reason- but your job, should you decide to stick with us, is to restore this house to its’ former glory.”

Everyone was quiet as they thought it over. It was a different move than anyone was probably expecting, but Kevin knew how to cut a deal.

“Well,” Hannah said slowly. “I guess it’ll be easier than working from pictures, right? Since you remember how everything should be? So where do we start?”

+++

This Old House:

A haunted house isn’t the usual first choice for a fixer-upper, but Keven likes horror movies, and doesn’t mind when his ghost throw things, as long as they don’t damage the new paint.

Experienced Home-Buying

Living Negotiation (Patreon-Only!)

White Roses and Deck Railings

Bats at Twilight

+++

More Stories!

+++

Support me on Patreon

[brvckin-blog]

in all forms except physical i can write an intro, know that ( ! ) i’m mikhia, you can call me mikki if you want tho idc lmao, i’m eighteen, and i live my life by the word of park sooyoung. in her name we pray, amen! i’m always tryna come up with some kind of witty intro but LMAO that never happens and probs never will so this is it.......... this is what y’all get! if you wanna plot then read this shit and gimme a mf smash of that heart and i’ll hit you up! or, if you prefer plotting on d.iscord then you can find me over at YUKHEI’S WHITE GIRL LAUGH #5355 just like tell me who you are when i add you!

▶ BASIC INFORMATION

breckin rhee isn’t as innocent as he seems. on the outside they’re just another twenty-one year old junior who’s looking to get through college with a degree in biology, but let me be the first to tell you there’s more than meets the eye. although they were ingrid’s party buddy, they were the one who held her still while she was bound and gagged. hopefully nobody finds out what they did!

▶ BULLET POINT BACKGROUND

the following overview contains triggering topics such as abuse, drug use, manipulation, and murder. if any of these topics make you uncomfortable then please click away as your well being is a lot more important than the background of my character. however, just as an fyi, none of the topics are talked about in depth, just more-so mentioned!

growing up it was just breckin and his dad living in a big, isolated house at the end of a road where no one really cared to get to know one another. he never knew what happened to his mom, but he also never asked. him and his dad didn’t have the kind of relationship for that; him and his dad were never close enough to have personal conversations.

the two of them only spoke a handful of words to each other by the time the boy was ten and had been completely raised by a nanny. but then everything changed when she just didn’t show up one day and his dad decided to play the role of a parent for once. and, just like with his mom, he had no idea what happened to his former parental figure.

he was shit at it (go figure) and constantly yelled at breckin, even pushing him around and smashing his toys just cause he felt like it. he didn’t understand what he had ever done wrong and a part of him thought that this was just how every parent treated their child.

when he was twelve, he ended up finding an old camcorder and instantly fell in love with filming everything around him. it all looked so beautiful through a lens; untainted. but he was young and kids can be dumb. he ended up recording over one of the tapes inside and when his dad found out, he completely lost it.

apparently breckin had taped over an old home video of his mom, one that his dad watched frequently, and it became the catalyst for events that would change his life forever. it was the first time his dad was ever physically abusive towards him.

he doesn’t really have much memory of the event, but he does remember being at the top of the stairs filming before everything went black. he found out later that his dad had pushed him down the stairs, but it was ruled an accident and he was put back into his care after he healed.

things only got worse from there with his dad constantly telling him that he was a monster, that no one would ever love him, and that no one would care if he died. these things clawed their way down his throat and found a home in his lungs until he felt like he could no longer breathe.

as he got older and a little colder, he started fighting back and it ended up just being a big brawl between him and his dad all the time. they would literally beat the shit out of each other multiple times a week until, suddenly, it all stopped when he was sixteen.

his dad remarried and the woman brought in two younger children. then, suddenly, his dad was someone else entirely. it was like the bitter old man had been replaced by the most wholesome being in the world. he acted like a completely different person and it pissed breckin off. but it also inspired him in a way; it changed his outlook on the world around him entirely.

so he changed his personality too, became the picture perfect son who played sports and got good grades. he held up his image well, but the monster his father always told him he was never went away. it just waited under his facade until the perfect time to strike.

it was after his first real girlfriend that he decided he liked hurting people. he liked breaking their hearts because it made him feel like a god. he was the perfect boyfriend, dating girls and boys and anyone that was dumb enough to fall for his tricks. he would make sure that he was all they thought about, that they were sure they were in love with him, and then he would rip the rug right out from under them.

nothing made him happier than watching them cry and beg him not to do this. they looked so ugly and broken and he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful. he liked seeing people at their most vulnerable, got off on humiliating them.

it was around that same time that he also got into drugs, cocaine specifically, and it helped to perk him up; it helped to make him not look so dead inside. he was a great actor, but the eyes are the window to the soul and his held nothing inside.

with his new life planned out, breckin made the decision to go to college and major in biology with the hopes of getting into med school and becoming a doctor like his father. in some weird way, it was almost like he wanted to be just like him, to show him that he was only monster because of him.

it was at his high school graduation that he found out what really happened to his mother when she suddenly showed up trying to act like everything was ok. in his mind, he had already come to terms with her death, deciding that his father more than likely killed her. but the truth hurt a whole lot more. she had just left........ left him with a monster who didn’t love him. and, not only that, but she had a whole new family with two children (his half siblings) and one of them was even close to him in age. it enraged him and, so, the next morning he cut the brake line in her car and killed her off permanently. she was dead to him so dead she would stay.

when he left for uni, he constructed a backstory where he was the son of a pastor who graduated as valedictorian and blushed when complimented. none of that was true, but it didn’t matter. everyone would believe him and would never question it so it didn’t matter.

at freshman orientation, he found his first victim and really set everything back into motion. he began dating anyone and everyone before ultimately cheating on them, and breaking their hearts in the worst possible way all while holding up his perfect little persona until the end.

it was a cruel game, but he was able to keep others quiet about who he really was either through blackmail or through them being so humiliated that they left school and moved away.

over the years though as he’s gotten busier and has gotten closer to graduating, he’s really been too exhausted to keep up his facade as much so he’s basically half himself and half good church goin boy lmao!

▶ LIST OF SECRETS 

obviously no one knows about these (unless we’ve plotted something out surrounding them) so keep these to your ooc self beetch! i honestly just wanted to throw ‘em down here because my memory is shit!

breckin plans on going to med school after graduation so, in preparation for becoming a doctor down the road, he will oftentimes practice on willing peers who are looking for a little extra cash.

he has a weird obsession with death but, more specifically, what comes after. it’s something that no one knows the answer to so he has taken it upon himself to try and figure it out. how, you ask? think flatliners. he hooks himself (and other people occasionally) to a machine then injects them with a drug to stop their heart. they die, the two minute countdown begins, then they’re resuscitated. he’s been getting a little too brave lately though and letting himself flatline for longer periods of time.

even though those two things in particular could get him not only kicked out of school, but ruin his chances of getting into med school, there are others that would pretty much bury his entire reputation six feet under. since he was in his early teens, breckin has been living a sort of double life. he pretends to be a nice boy who only has good intentions, but he couldn’t be more opposite. he loves breaking hearts, hurting others, and humiliating them. more often than not, he dates people solely for that.

even though he doesn’t need the money, he loves attention so he started up his very own little artistic porn blog on tumblr (throw it back to when that shit was still allowed). he began when he was a freshman and has accumulated around forty thousand followers in that time. he never shows his face or anything but he posts pretty racy photos and sells pictures, videos, and audio recordings to those that are willing to pay.

breckin has a very packed schedule between studying pre-med, playing sports, and keeping up with all of his other extracurricular activities that he doesn’t find much time to do normal things like sleeping, eating, etc. this has pushed him to find other means to sustain him that mostly include divulging in various drugs of choice.

▶ POTENTIAL PLOT IDEAS

these are just barebone ideas that could and should be expanded on. but, again, they’re only ideas and i’m really open to plotting just about anything? especially if you have smth in particular that you really want filled, please don’t be afraid to come to me about it! all plots are also open to any muse of any gender!

TEAMMATE(S) — breck is really into sports (specifically more aggressive ones) so if your muse plays any such as: football, lacrosse, hockey, etc then hmu! we can do full blown rivals, playful rivals, mates who just help keep each other motivated to do their best, etc.

HALF SIBLING — if you read the background info then you’ll know that breck’s mom pretty much disappeared then showed back up with two new kids who are his half siblings. however, one of them is pretty close to his age so it’d be cool to have them around? especially considering the fact that he ended up killing their mother yikes! even though they obvs don’t know that it could make for some good writing to explore them finding it out in the future!

ROMANTIC(?) — i’m talkin fwb, exes that he’s played, one night stands, etc. considering the fact that his schedule has only gotten busier and busier, he doesn’t really have time to date around like he used to but he still has needs, damn, so essketit!

PARTY BUDDY — breck likes to party a lot and likes to get fucked up so he needs some friends who’ll humor him and who can keep up with all of his wild shenanigans.

DRUG DEALER — with the amount of shit he does (both personally and otherwise) he could keep your character completely funded himself lmao! hes got a lot of money so let his dumbass give it to you!

NEIGHBOR(S) — breck doesn’t live on campus cause fuck that hes too old for it and he hated it anyway so he lives in an apartment which means your muse? could be his neighbor idk this is super vague but we could do a lot with it just trust me!

SECRETS(?) — considering a couple of his secrets are a little out there it’d be kinda cool to have someone in on them. like, with his whole experimenting on people thing and basically killing them then bringing them back to see what they experienced ya....... could be fun literally someone gimme it!

[boneandfur]

A Wicked Wind [1/?]

Notes: this is an AU fic set several years before the events of VOS. It takes place in the Intimate universe, the same universe as Riley x Rashad. This is for the Choices September Challenge, Sept 21, Autumn (although it could also fit under "Magic"). @choices-september-challenge Thanks to @lizeboredom for being my sounding board! // Pairing: Flynn x MC(Maureen) (yes! Not a crack ship! 😱) // Rating: Mature, later chapters will be NSFW // Words:3213 // Summary: Is a chance meeting between these would-be lovers of another time fate, or does autumn blow in a wicked wind of grief and misfortune? Loosely inspired by a New England folktale. // Song: Something Just Like This, Chainsmokers + Coldplay // WARNING: This chapter is rated MATURE for mentions of rape.

"Look at that pretty little thing, Danny. Ain't she wicked hot?"

Flynn knows he should stay out of it. He should keep on walking, head down, straight to Rayvynne's apartment to wait for her to get back from her job throwing tarot cards near the Witch House. Yes, he should keep on walking, past this girl with dark red hair and whiskey eyes, the kind that remind him of the man he should have been, the man he'll never be.

Even from here he can tell that she's the kind of girl every good Irish Massachusetts boy has known at least once in his life, a Virgin Mary, a Mary Magdalene -- a good Irish Catholic girl, the kind he would have brought home to his mother -- his life hadn't been taken from him too young, if he hadn't spent the best years of his life in the joint, when he should have been out fighting every Yankees fan and fucking every pretty girl or boy who caught his eye. And he's young, still, but on nights like this he feels old, as though whatever spark, whatever ambition he once had, has already been burned up by his thirst for revenge on the man who wronged him. 

"Pretty stuck up, Mikey. She needs to be taught a lesson." 

If Flynn wasn't thirteen minutes late already to pick up Rayvynne, who smells of pomegranates and graveyard dust, who fucks him like a girl with daddy issues, who leaves smears of black lipstick all over the place where his heart used to be -- then he knows he'd stop walking now. If Flynn O'Malley was still a good man, if those years hadn't been stolen from him, then he'd stop in his tracks. He'd turn from his path, and he'd take that girl by the hand, the one who could have turned him from his fate if he'd met her seven years ago.

"Yup, I'm gonna fuck her bloody tonight." Danny is lean and wiry in that way of a man who's grown up fighting everyone who's crossed his path. Flynn recognizes a fighter, after all, he's one too, but he's not soft in the middle like Danny, he hasn't spent the last six years before this drinking cheap booze and eating greasy burgers, he's become a man inside the clink, he's learned how to break men down, like animals. 

But this girl -- even a hardened criminal like Flynn O'Malley can see how wrong this is -- this girl, even with a skirt that's too short and tight, isn't fooling anyone. There's something pristine about her still, something innocent. She sure as hell shouldn't be standing in the autumn rain, tears on her freckled cheeks, witch hat listing sadly to one side of her head. 

Not with those men looking at her the way they are, hunger and darkness seeping from them like the mist rising off Gallows Hill in the twilight. 

The girl looks up and sees him under the cemetery trees, Flynn is certain of it: he smells deep green lake water and wild roses, and for a moment, he's a boy again, searching for pirate gold and a beautiful witch with red shoes, down in the Devil's Pasture with his Donnelly cousins.

The leaves blow across Flynn O'Malley's boots, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. 

And Flynn knows he's left it too late -- it's too late to stop what's meant to happen, what always was meant to happen -- because he's turned his back on fate, leaving it behind him like seven years bad luck, like a curse. 

And then -- before he has time to think, before he can take the step that will separate him as a fox among wolves, the girl leaps over the headstones and begins to run. Danny and Mike let out wild howls that raise every hair on Flynn's arms, and give chase. 

•••

Ten years ago, when the world was young, two girls set out from one end of Greenwood to the other on Halloween night. Only one returned. And that girl, Maureen Ronan, is standing in the liminal space between life and the sweet hereafter, at a quarter to twilight, under the cemetery gates, waiting for the doors to open between the worlds. 

Behind her, she can hear men talking about her, and her spine grows stiff, it's nothing she hasn't heard before. And though she'd like to think she can handle herself when it comes down to it, she knows the truth -- she's more likely to cut and run. She was always the fastest girl on her block, for all she was the dreamiest, and after what happened to Ayla, she'll never trust anyone else to save her, not ever again. 

"I'm gonna fuck her bloody..." The words send a distinct chill down the back of Maureen's neck, but she's already left an offering for the guardian at the gate, and she's already come this far, and been through so much. Nothing is going to stop her now, not even...

"'Til she's raw, and then I'll let ya have a turn, Mikey..."

They could be talking about anyone else, she thinks, but there's something in their laughter, long and low, that makes every hair on the back of her neck rise, and she can hear Ayla's voice, down through the years: Don't worry about me, Molly. I'll be fine. 

Her instincts kick in, and Maureen cuts and runs -- she bolts down the center path of the cemetery, zig-zagging through the tombstones, heading for the back gates. She can hear the men behind her, calling for her to slow down. 

Pretty girl. We just wanna be friends. Get back here and let us fuck you! 

She's got a stitch in her side already, she can feel her lungs constrict. She's regretting running already, it's not like she knows Salem village like the back of her hand, not the way she knew the forests and creeks just outside Chicago, when she was still a girl, before the world fell apart, and every truth she'd ever known had turned out to be a lie. 

And then it happens -- she trips, and goes sprawling in the wet leaves, and she knows she'll never outrun these men, they are already nearly upon her, smelling of greed and lust, rank and coppery like the taste of rust where she bit her cheek to keep from screaming Ayla's name, sure she could see her friend beyond the basement window of the Coyne house, when all good girls were in bed in the suburbs, their knees locked tight. 

It's a liar you are, Maureen Ronan. That's what you get for reading too many books. Mr Coyne is a nice man. Ayla was out after curfew, and she ran away, that's all. Her mother was turning tricks again, so who'd blame the girl for running...

She's crying now, hot angry tears, like the night they found Ayla's scarf in the creek outside of town, before they moved away, to live with her grandmother and cousins in Canaryville, in the city. The police let Mr Coyne go, they said there was nothing to hold him, without a body there wasn't a crime, and if Ayla's disappearance made folks lock their children up at night, soon people forgot that girl, swept under the rug of memory like all missing children in an unkind city. 

Except for Maureen, the only one to light a candle for her friend's memory, the only one who vowed that one day she would find her friend's body, and make him pay. That's what journalists do. They find out the truth. They make men like Frankie Coyne pay. 

But it's been ten years, and Maureen Ronan has spent too long outrunning her own fate. It should have been her in Ayla's place that night, after all, Ayla was wearing Maureen's shamrock green hoodie and her red boots, pointy toed, like a witch. They'd planned to meet at the cemetery crossroads and light a vigil candle, for all the girls who'd disappeared in the neighborhood down through the years, but Ayla never showed up, and Maureen waited for hours before she'd remembered, too late, the greeting Mr Coyne had given her before she'd set off that night -- 

Where are you going, pretty girl? 

"This way." She hears him before she sees him, his voice is the stroke of midnight, it's the deep black water in the center of a salt marsh, the kind of voice a pirate has, a deep baritone that charms the tides. The kind of man you'll never know if you should trust until it's too late, a wild rover, a lover and a fighter. He smells of late season juniper berries and warm tobacco and spicy bay rum, like the cargo hold of a pirate sloop laden with silks and stolen ingots, sunk beneath the waves with her handsome captain and all hands on board. "Come on." 

•••

Up close, the girl is everything a man like Flynn should never want. She's the kind of girl a man like him should never touch nor taint, not a wicked man like him. There are smears of leaf mold on her knees, and she's crying, tendrils of mist swirling around her rust-colored curls as Flynn steps out of the trees and grabs her hand, stopping himself from pulling her too close. He's sure she'd smell of new beginnings, of all the things a man like him doesn't deserve. He's sure her lips would taste of pirate gold, and deep magic, the kind you can't find outside of old legends, or the fairytales he stopped believing in long ago. "This way." Flynn pulls her into the shadows of the crypt, the one place he's sure superstitious New Englanders would never think to look for them, not within the shadow of the church. "Come on." 

The crypt is primitive, just a dark mound in the earth, with two shelves cut out of the dirt, and stone walls. Leaves rustle across the floor, and he can hear the loud rattle of the girl's frightened breathing. Without thinking, Flynn pulls her close, marveling at just how well her head seems to fit under his chin, at how wrong he was about her, for she smells of the autumn wind and the full moon -- like home, even if he can't quite admit that to himself. 

"It's all right. I won't let them hurt you. I promise." Flynn raises a tentative hand and places it on her back, and she gives a tiny sigh and relaxes against him. He goes completely still, not wanting to ruin the moment, and closes his eyes. If only he were a better man. If only -- 

"Da name's Maureen." She has a distinct accent that marks her as not from around here, she's definitely not a Mass girl. He hopes like hell that wherever she is from isn't New York. 

"Hi, Maureen." He tastes her name softly, rolling it around in his mouth. He makes a circle on her back with his hand, tentatively at first, and then the shock of her cold fingertips brush the exposed skin near his waistband, and he bites back a groan -- this is going to kill him, he's certain of it. "I'm Flynn." 

Maureen licks her lips. Fuckkk. "Hi, Flynn." Her hair tickles his chin when she pulls her head back. His shirt is damp with her tears. "Thank you for helping me." 

He raises her hand and kisses it, as if they lived four hundred years ago, as if he were a pirate captain and she the most beautiful girl in the village, her flame red hair the beacon guiding him safe to shore. It's not gentlemanly feelings that are swirling inside of Flynn right at this moment. Maybe it's him she'll need protecting from. 

After all, if he hadn't stopped to help Maureen, he'd be banging Ravynne on her altar right now, goddess statues crashing to the floor as she rakes his back with those long black nails. 

No, he's a wicked man, is Flynn O'Malley. He's no good for this girl, and if she knew what was good for her, she would know enough to stay away from a man like him. "Just what were you doing there alone, anyway?" 

Maureen snuggles against him, as though his heart wasn't pounding like a drum. She inhales, and then takes a step back, putting a few blessed, torturous feet between them, leaving Flynn feeling strangely bereft. But when she reaches for his hand, he takes it almost unconsciously, running his thumb over her knuckles, the urge to feel her lips pressed against his making this strong man weak with longing. 

This is crazy. He shouldn't be feeling like this, not for someone he hardly knows, for someone he's just met. And yet, if he squints, beyond her eyes like firelight he can see a red haired girl standing on the dunes, waving to a man in an embroidered waistcoat and a tricorn hat, who sweeps her up into his arms and kisses her until neither of them can breathe. But that's just an old legend, a fairy story... isn't it? 

"Ah. I'm here to make magic." Maureen's voice is low and smoky, and the mist swirls around her little red boots, but Flynn doesn't notice, he's too hypnotized by the rise and fall of her chest, by those creamy breasts he's just realizing are accentuated by her laced black bodice. "Are you from Salem, Flynn?" 

"Nah." Flynn resists the urge to pull her right back in, to feel every soft, yielding curve pressed right up against every hard inch of him. "I'm from the Cape. Where are you from?" Not New York, not New York. 

"Canaryville." She gives a careless shrug. "Chicago. You know it?" 

"What's a nice little Midwest girl doing on the wild and windy coast?" Flynn winks. He's been told it's quite effective. He can't help but wonder where she learned to bat her lashes like that, and how long it takes a witch to fly from one city to the next. 

"I'm here to lay old bones to rest, and to turn a curse." Maureen stills at once at a loud crack outside, whiskey eyes wide with panic, and Flynn pulls her behind the door, covering her body with his, the instinct to protect her overriding every other thought in his head.

Pretty girl, where are you? The sing-song voice bounces against the trees, and the acorns make a crack-crack-crack noise as they fall, the sound echoing in the gathering dusk. 

There is a long beat as neither of them dares breathe. Then the voices are fading away, and yet they remain pressed up to one another, breathing one another's breath, so close he could claim those lips in his with a wicked kiss. 

With a groan, Flynn pulls away from her, running a hand through his hair and poking his head out of the crypt. "Looks like they're gone. You're free to go, Maureen." And he's free too, to go find Rayvynne, but he doesn't want to, there's some part of him that wants to see this through, to know why a little witch named Maureen makes Flynn O'Malley want to be a better man. 

•••

Maureen knows she should let Flynn go, let him walk out of her life. One look at him tells her he's a wild rover, a pirate, not to be trusted. He is entirely too handsome, and there's the matter of the tattoo on his wrist, and the watchful way his eyes scan every corner of the graveyard.

This is a man who is a fox, sly and cunning. And yet... and yet, another part of her wants to stay here, in this man's arms, where nothing bad could ever happen to her again, where she feels like ever since she started running, here is a place she might be able to stop, and find peace.

"Do you want to get a drink? You look like you could use one, I know  a wicked good place." Flynn grins and looks down at her, and his eyes are so blue that Maureen is struck dumb for a moment, staring up at him. This is the kind of man her mother always warned her about, the kind who could knock a girl up just by looking at her. Broad shoulders and dark hair with hints of copper, and the kind of beard a girl could tug on if she wanted a kiss.

Just one kiss. 

She can't help but wonder how his stubble would feel between her thighs, and feels her cheeks heat at such wicked thoughts.

"I'd love to." Can he feel the way her heart is nearly pounding out of her chest? He's smirking now, as though he could read every dirty thought inside her skull, as though he knows the kind of affect he's having on her, the way her stomach flips when she imagines the dark hair on his chest rubbing against her nipples, or what his tongue would taste like inside her mouth. "Do you know a good place for whiskey, then?" 

"I might." Flynn looks down at her arms around his waist in amusement. "You'd have to let me go first, though." 

She hopes Flynn can't tell how much she wishes he'd press her up against the dirt wall and commit sacrilege, let her run her hands all over his chest as he plunders her mouth with his tongue, as though unlocking a chest of secret treasures. "I'm hella shook." Maureen tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and vows to touch up her makeup. She's sure she looks like she's survived a ducking in the town pond, and feels her cheeks heat under his blue gaze, dropping her eyes. But she doesn't step away. 

A pause stretches out between them, with all the things unsaid, and then Flynn pulls off his leather jacket, settling it over her shoulders. He clears his throat, stepping back, and Maureen reaches out, stroking her finger down the intricate tattoo sleeve on Flynn's arm. He stills, like a Back Yards canary, or the magpie that used to bring her shiny pieces of river glass beside the creek, before she ever knew what it was to feel heartbreak. "Maureen." Flynn rests one hand on the wall above her head, and when she tilts her chin up to look at him, he brushes his thumb over her bottom lip, lingering for a moment, his eyes suddenly raw and vulnerable, as though she's someone he could trust. "Let's go get that drink." Flynn's lips graze against her earlobe, and she shivers with longing, feeling his gaze on her hips as they walk out of the crypt into the falling dusk. 

When she looks over her shoulder at him, he takes her hand, tucking her arm into his. She bites back a gasp, fire licking her veins, and when Flynn meets her gaze with one of equal heat, he takes her hand again, and leads her down the path.

--

Tag list: @darley1101 @writtenbycandy @indiacater @the-everlasting-dream @breaumonts @penguininapinktuxedo @christopher-powell @choicessa @drakewalkerwhipped @cocomaxley @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @sleepwalkingelite as always, let me know if you want to be taken off the tag list or put onto it. since i don’t have a permanent tag list i just go by comments.