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fearcvlt · 1 day ago

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❝end of the water(feel)❞

pairing. caleb x fem!reader note. i only downloaded this game for the caleb debut and... yeah, he got me locked in. very new to lads, might be some slight timeline inaccuracies for which i apologise. needed to write virgin caleb so bad though so... forgive me. reblogs/feedback forever appreciated. mwah <3 tags. nsfw, mdni. loss of virginity. p in v. creampies. pre-mature ejaculation. kind of obsessive caleb. psuedocest. panty sniffing. fingering. yearning. jealousy but it's not a focus. pipsqueak is here... not sorry. no use of y/n. 2.9k words.

Caleb finds it easy to remember the moment he realised he was madly in love with you.

He’s sure it had always been the case — he’d spent the majority of his childhood following you around like a lost puppy, doing anything he could just so you could smile at him. Feeling things and knowing what you’re feeling are two different situations entirely, however.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but you weren’t the only girl he would look at and think that (it just so happened he ended up looking at you more than any other girl he knew). It wasn’t until you got your first ever confession that he realised how much he disliked the fact that other boys could find you pretty, too.

The note was from a classmate of yours. It shouldn’t have even been a blip on Caleb’s radar — nothing more than an innocent, heartfelt little confession from someone who liked you. It made an unfamiliar feeling twist in his gut as he watched you giggle as you read over the letter. His blood felt like it was burning in his veins. He was unable to keep the scowl off of his face, unable to prevent the burn of his eyes when he realised he’d never gotten you to smile at him that way.

Caleb had to flee so you didn’t see his reaction, brewing in a mix of jealousy and self pity as he curled up on his bed, tears stinging his eyes.

The following day, Caleb played the protective big brother card for the very first time, practically snarling at the boy until his face was splotchy and red and he looked like he might cry. He should have felt bad. He didn’t. He’s sure he’d never been prouder.

You were upset, of course. The very first person to ever confess to you had suddenly started avoiding you at all costs — you thought you had done something wrong.

Caleb was more than happy to offer you a shoulder to cry on. He held you close to his side, his heart thumping at the close proximity, eyes wide with wonder as you only snuggled up closer. He remembers thinking that you were still the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on, even as you were crying. He even remembers the promise he had made.

“I’ll protect you, pipsqueak. Forever.”

Maybe he thought he’d grow out of the crush one day. Maybe he just didn’t care. All he knew was that every boy that came after the first was never good enough for you. No one was good enough for you. Caleb kept them all away, but it was for your own good. You’d understand that eventually.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Caleb’s feelings only worsened with time.

What started off as an innocent crush devolved into something more akin to obsession as he grew. He was climbing closer and closer to his mid-twenties, and yet he still felt like a small child carefully guarding his favourite toy when he was in your presence.

His thoughts began steering into dangerously non-brotherly territory when he came home from the Aerospace Academy for one summer to find you had already returned. You had… changed. There was a newfound confidence surrounding you since you began your hunter training, like you’d grown into yourself in the time he was gone. It felt almost bittersweet — he had called you pipsqueak out of habit, but the nickname didn’t feel quite right anymore. You laughed and pushed his hand away as he ruffled your hair. He didn’t like it, yet somehow your touch made his face heat up now.

Caleb liked feeling needed. He wanted to feel proud of you for coming out of your shell and gaining independence from him, but he couldn’t. He hated the idea that he needed you so badly, but you might not need your big brother as much anymore.

The first time it had happened was an accident. He had insisted he would do your laundry for you when you came home tired one day. He’d tucked you into bed all tight, pressing a kiss to your temple to silence your complaints.

You were all comfy and half-way to dozing off, and Grandma had already turned in for the night, so he was alone as he carried your things to the laundry room.

He wanted to make sure he did a good enough job that you would realise you could still rely on him. He carefully separated each article of clothing before placing them into the machine, making sure none of the colours would bleed, that anything delicate wouldn’t shrink or tear.

His fingers brushed lace, and he swallowed thickly. The offending material belonged to a pretty pink pair of panties. His chest started heaving as he stared down at them, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

When the fuck did you start wearing things like this?

He didn’t like it. He absolutely fucking hated the idea of you getting these to impress some other guy. He hated himself for the way all the blood in his brain seemed to immediately rush south and impede any reasonable thoughts from entering his brain.

He brushes his thumb over the fabric once. Twice. A third time when he notices the gusset of the panties feels different against his skin.

His gaze flicks quickly to the laundry room door. He waits, perking up like a dog waiting to be scolded as he listened for any sounds in the home. When he found none, he shuffled closer to the door, shutting it before bracing himself against it with an arm. Slowly, cautiously, he raises the fabric to his nose.

He inhales once, and immediately realises he’s doomed. His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky inhale, burying his face deeper into the fabric. He presses his forehead to the door, his free hand sliding down his body so he can palm at his steadily hardening cock through his shorts.

He gasps instantly at the contact, panting into the fabric. His tongue darts out to taste them, and all it takes is two more shaky touches before he’s coming in his pants.

Caleb’s eyes widen and he jerks back like he’s been burned, the panties quickly being flung back into the washing basket. He switches on the half full machine, quickly skittering out of the room to have a cold shower.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“I thought you would grow out of being so fussy,” Caleb scolds lightly, brows furrowing as he watches you wrinkle your nose at the sight of some of the vegetables on your plate. “That’s why you’re so short, pipsqueak. You haven’t been eating your greens.”

“I’m not even short,” is your immediate response, tongue coming out childishly. Caleb can feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “And I do eat vegetables. Just not… these ones.”

“Riiiiight. Are you sure that’s the case? You’re terrible at lying to me, you know.” He pauses, tilting his head with a small smile. He places a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in closer as he picks up your fork, stabbing it through some of the remaining food on your plate.

“Open wide, pipsqueak. Colonel Caleb has a very important flight to land.” He teases, doing the whole here-comes-the-aeroplane act with far too much enjoyment.

“I’m not seven anymore, Caleb. That stopped being cute over a decade ago—“

“Ah-ah. I don’t remember asking for you to argue with me. What stopped being cute a decade ago was that bratty attitude of yours.”

He pokes the tip of your nose with the hand that was previously resting on the back of your chair, grinning as his hand slips lower. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip without thinking, trying to pry your mouth open.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad-fucking-idea.

Your breathing hitches, and your lips part instinctively. There is no way the heat he feels rushing to his cheeks haven’t made it abundantly clear how helpless he is when it comes to you. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus on your wide eyes rather than how hot your breath feels against his thumb (and how easy it would be to feel just how warm and wet the inside of your mouth is).

Absolutely fucking terrible idea.

His pants are feeling particularly strained right now, and he’s praying to ever deity he’s ever heard the name of that you haven’t noticed. Caleb isn’t good at handling how his body chooses to react about you, but he’s always been great at deflecting and teasing you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, praying you don’t notice how breathless he is. He can see every imperfection on your face right now, every single lash as you look up at him. God, was he always this close? It’s taking all of his restraint not to lean in closer.

“You don’t need to be shy around me, you know. It’s only me. You trust me, don’t you?” You nod, and he gives you a lazy smile. “You’re so pretty. Sometimes I worry about leaving you all alone.”

Of course, by sometimes, he means he sometimes gets so nauseous when he lets his mind wander to what you might get up to without him around that it makes him dizzy. Not that he would ever vocalise that fact.

“Pretty?” You repeat in a voice that’s so soft and sweet and hopeful that it’s dizzying.

“Pretty.” He confirms, dropping his forehead against yours.

Caleb doesn’t remember leaning in to kiss you, but suddenly his lips are on yours, and you melt. He smiles against your lips, his fingers trailing along your jawline before they’re moving up to cup your cheek. It’s clumsy and sweet — he can tell you’ve never done this before, and that makes something warm blossom in his chest.

He wants to ruin you, but he’s not entirely sure you haven’t ruined him, first.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip until it parts to let him inside. He brushes his tongue against yours until you’re practically a puddle in his arms, only pulling back when he needs to breathe.

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, eyes solely focused on your spit-slick lips. “Can I take you to your room?”

You nod.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Is this okay?” Caleb whispers, brows furrowed in concern at the way you hiss as he slips two fingers inside of you. He withdraws them slightly, leaning down to spit on your cunt before slowly pushing them back in. They move easier now, and he finds himself letting out a relieved sigh as the crease between your brows melts away.

“Good. It’s… it’s good.”

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he starts to thrust his fingers into you, gently scissoring you open. “Or if I do anything you don’t like.”

You nod again, and he rewards you by brushing his thumb over your clit experimentally. Your walls clench around his digits as you moan, so he does it again. “Good girl.”

His touch is more exploratory than anything. He watches your face closely the entire time, repeating the actions that make your nose scrunch up all cutely. He doesn’t stop until your cunt is practically drooling all over him, leaving him very at risk of coming in his pants.

“I’m going to be gentle, okay? Are you ready?” He asks softly, hands trembling as he slides his fingers out of you. His hands move to shed off his own clothes, his body draping over yours. He doesn’t make any move to do more until you agree.

“Yeah. Please, Caleb.”

Caleb has dreamed of this moment. He’s almost tempted to pinch himself, just to be sure this is really happening. His lips part with a strangled groan as he pushes the tip of his cock past your entrance, his head tipping forwards.

“Oh… you’re so tight.” He gasps, practically shaking as he continues to slowly press forwards. His hips meet the back of your thighs, and he can’t help but stare down at where the two of you are connected in awe.

He rolls his hips experimentally, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he feels the way you try to greedily suck him back in. It’s too much and not enough, all at the same time. You whine, squirming underneath him, trying to get him to move again.

“So good… feels so good,” he practically whimpers, repeating the movement a few times so that his eyes can take in the way he disappears within you. “Fuck. I love you, y’know that?”

Of course you do. Caleb has never been shy when it comes to showing how deeply he cared about you, but the words feel different now. More charged.

You say you love him, too, and Caleb grunts. His hips stutter, then he pauses. Blinks. His eyes flick downwards, a flush overtaking his face as he watches his cum start to seep out of you, pushing past the barrier his cock provides as the droplets slide down your ass to stain the sheets. You’re still panting, whining, begging him for more.

He swallows. Hard. His throat bobs as he pushes past the sensitivity to start rocking into you with more confidence this time, his now half-hard cock slowly stirring back to life. He knows you must have felt it, the sudden warmth flooding you. Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. He’s been waiting for this moment for years, saved himself just for you, and that was all it took?

He leans over you a little more, pressing deeper in an attempt to make up for it. Your back arches and you let out the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, lips parting in a way that makes him feel light-headed. Suddenly, he’s not so worried anymore. He smiles, letting out a soft little laugh as he presses a kiss to your temple, fucking into you slow and deep.

“You look so beautiful like this.” He breathes. Running his nose along your cheek, your jawline, down the line of your neck. He inhales deeply, lashes fluttering as he takes in your scent. His chest is starting to hurt from how fast his heart is beating, but he doesn't care. His entire focus is on you — the sounds you’re making, the way you feel as your cunt sucks him in, the warmth of your body pressed against his.

“I love you.” He says again, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His arms wrap tight around your waist to hug your body tight against his own, leaning all of his weight onto you as he continues to thrust into you. His movements are almost lazy. He’s addicted to the feeling of being inside of you, the slow, languid drag of his cock. The way you gasp as he presses his hips flush to yours. He can’t stop smiling.

“I love you too, Caleb. Always… always loved you.” You gasp. Caleb hisses at the breathless sound of your voice, his thrusts growing harsher and more erratic.

He sits back on his heels, dragging you along with him. He keeps his grip on you tight, crushing you to his body as he fucks up into you, gasping and panting each time his cock sheathes itself fully within you.

“Close… I’m so close, baby. Cum, please… need to… need to feel you cum.” He grits out through his teeth, head lolling back as his fingers dig into the flesh of your back, desperately attempting to bring you closer. If he could, he’d merge your bodies together so he’d never have to be without you.

“Can’t… I can’t, need more—“ You gasp out in response.

Caleb groans, one of his hands slipping down your back and around your side, pressing itself between your two bodies so he can rub at your clit. Your core flutters around his length, a fresh wave of arousal setting your nerve endings on fire. You rock into his touch, grinding back down to meet his thrusts before you’re pressing up to chase the touch of his fingers.

Your body tenses, walls clenching around him as you come with a cry, arousal soaking him until its dripping down your thighs. You’re trying to kill him, he’s sure of it.

He finds it impossible to deny his release much longer. How could he, when you look so perfect against him like this, your expression hazy and blissed out. You looked utterly wrecked, and it was entirely his doing.

His hips jerk forwards shakily, a series of grunts and curses spilling past his lips as his cum fills you to the brim. He drops his forehead against your shoulder, both arms moving to wrap loosely around your waist to keep you close to his body.

He keeps you there for a moment before slowly lowering you back onto the mattress, gently draping his body over yours. He nuzzles your neck just to have another excuse to breath in your scent, the smell of sweat and sex mixing with something so distinctly you.

The silence is only broken as you whine, pushing at his chest. “Caleb, heavy.”

“Oh? Am I?” He teases, laughing against your neck as you try to wriggle free. He just tightens his grip. “Nuh-uh, pipsqueak. You’re stuck with me.”

He means it.

#lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x y/n #caleb x you #caleb smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader smut

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lolitalovess · 2 days ago

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Legs Open, Hearts Broken.

sum: hockey player vi x reader.

warnings: smut, oral sex, fingering, big o, vi is kind of a dick, vi is stressed tf out, vi and reader are kind of sick of eachother, this is not proofread, i really struggled writing this so if some parts esp the start are sloppy that's why, the start is really bad but it gets better, reader has a brother in this, idk why, lowkey brothers best friend trope, that's it

you know violet lane has always been a player - both literally and romantically. you can't blame all the girls on campus for eyeing at her everytime they catch a glimpse of her in the hallways or when she's playing a game with the whole school watching, not with the way her face is the most gorgeous one your eyes have ever had the privilege of looking at. you met her when your brother, who's one of her teammates introduced her to you. and jesus christ you're grateful for it.

she's stressed and has had one of the worst fucking days shes ever had and all she wants is to go to her dorm and text you to ask you to come over, not to ask you to get her shit for her because she fucking forgot it for practise. it's not like she'd want anyone else to go into her room when she's not there - you've been there at ungodly hours enough times to know where it is.

you don't know why you agreed to it in the first place, maybe because she's your brothers best friend, maybe because you feel bad, maybe because she's fucked you dumb almost every night this week, but you're already walking through the halls in the direction of her room. the way has been poisoned into your head ever since her essence and sweet words grew in your mind like ivy.

you're quick with it, entering her familiar room with red bedsheets, fairy lights and posters, slinging the black duffel bag over your shoulder and heading to the indoor arena across the campus. it's a nice one that's not that far, not when you're texting both her and your brother at the same time to tell them that you're coming and you understand that their coach is pissed at her.

"hey, i have your shit." you call out, walking toward the pink haired girl who's sitting on one of the front benches, her eyes watching the practise game in front of her. you hear the metal she's sitting on creak when you move the heavy bag off your shoulder and place it next to her. it's another hour and thirty minutes later after she convinced you to stay and watch. you knew you had better things but it's not even like you could have said no, not with the way she was looking into your eyes and asking so nicely, and it was the same when she asked if she could come over after.

"you look so pretty." your murmur on her clit. your eyes are trained on her face and your back is sore from the curled up position you're laying in on the end of your bed, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

she sighs out as her first response to your praise - the four words she's been called and has called countless of times coming and going from other girls during situations exactly like this, though the way your breath blowed on her clit had her fighting the urge to arch her back. "jesus, sweetheart. fucks wrong with you?"

you don't mind her words, you're clever enough to know that they don't have any bite in them whatsoever. it's not like you're teasing her, you're just sucking and licking at her clit like it's gonna take all her stress about nationals away and cater all her thoughts to you.

you pull away ever so slightly, your lips detatching from her with a tiny little pop. her clits swollen and puffy from how you've been sucking and flicking your tounge on it like how you do with her bottom lip, and she's got an insane amount of her arousal practically fucking dripping down her pussy.

you tilt your head to the side so your cheek is resting plush against one of her muscular thighs, your action causing them to spread even more. you're sure it's one of the hottest things you've seen her do. "are you okay? you seem really stressed." you begin, moving the hand on her other thigh to mindlessly rub her clit in slow circles, earning a moan from her.

"i'm- fuck. i'm not. it's just nationals. they're coming up in like, a month or whatever." she said through sighs and little moans, your touch on her clit is frustratingly not enough and she wants to scream at you for it, and holyfuck you're fingering her.

you push yourself to sit up on your knees, your hand reaching to grasp onto her shoulder to crawl ontop of her, your other hand still busy with slowly pumping your two fingers in and out of her. you remind her of a python at times, crawling ontop of her like you want to take her entire body and soul for yourself, like you couldn't bear the thought of someone else doing so.

you move the hand on her shoulder to hold her jaw, fighting back the urge the smile when she reaches her head up to kiss you, almost in a needy way. it's not like you pull away to tease her though, instead you're swallowing her moans and whimpers like you're getting paid to do it when your lips and tongue move in sync.

"you'll be fine, vi." you reply, kissing the corner of her mouth and beginning to trail them to her cheek and jaw, despite her whimpers of protest. "yeah, it's just... a big thing." she muttered, her hands coming up to hold your wasit when she feels you speeding up the pace of your fingers. her pussy is squelching and taking it with greed and not a care in the world - grateful for the attention you're giving it after what feels like you edged her for hours, even if it was only for 30 minutes.

her moans filling your room signify in sound when you curl your fingers so far into her pussy she's squeezing her eyes shut and arching her back off your mattress just barely enough for your tummies to touch. she's always pornographicly loud when she cums, and this time its no difference whatsoever when she's absolutely soaking your fingers without a single shame in the world like it's her job.

her eyes shoot open when she feels your body on top of her begin to move back down the bed and into the position you were in on the end of the bed after she just began to calm down, quickly propping herself up on your pillow with her elbow to look down at you. "you don't- uh, have to." she spoke as soon as she feels your palm on her inner thigh, spreading them apart. "i'm just gonna clean you up." you reply, resting your cheek on her other thigh like before. it's grown into a habit with how often you rest your face on her thighs like they're pillows, which they are.

"i've gotta study. for the history test tomorrow." she protests, almost weakly. her eyes are blown wide, powder blue looking into you with a mix of both anticipation and hesitance - you can't chose the dominant one, not with how the corner of your lips curl up into a small smile at you huff of laughter. "you never study for tests." you reply, kissing her inner thigh before ultimately sitting up and laying next to her, head turned to see her face.

"you've just never seen me study." she spoke with a sigh, sitting up from the mattress just as you settled, her eyes searching for her previously forgotten pants and boxers on the floor. "you just never seemed like the type to." was your reply, your eyes fixated on her ass when she leans over to reach for her socks - the spiderman ones that go with her boxers, and both are on her body faster than you'd like.

"hey, we should study together." you tease, which earns a "fuck you" when she's walking out your door and flipping you off, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

hi!! genuinely sorry this is ass especially to the people that have been waiting for this. i honestly didn't really enjoy writing this so i think that's why?? the girlfriend version of this will hopefully be out tomorrow because i actually do have a history test to study for 😭 not sure if i'm gonna make this a series. i don't like how i made this look. pls help

#violet arcane #vi arcane x reader #violet x reader #vi #vi x reader #vi arcane #arcane #arcane vi x reader #piltover's finest #arcane vi x you #hockey player x reader #hockey #vi is so hot #i want her children.#i'm trying my best deal with me #nerdy girls #nerd vi #♡

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bernardsbendystraws · 1 day ago

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You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of kissing, mentions of family death, bra touching, talk of needing to piss ?

A/N: This chapter is LONG. Lmk if we like it being this long or if I should break it up next time sorry! Proofread by @darksturnz (ty lovely girl!)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P7: Bras & Piss

wc: 2700+

Not even a single insult. Chris barely even lingered in the main room with Matt and me—like he couldn’t even fathom breathing the same air as me.

It hurt. The dull ache in my chest seems to worsen everytime he ignores me. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, it still just felt different, and not in a good way.

Luckily, Chris hadn’t caught me loitering in Matt’s room to help him out with his date with Mia. Although, part of me wish he had. Maybe then he’d at least ask or say something mean. And I just wanted him to say something—anything.

“Pleaseeee?” Matt begs, his hands clasped as if he’s praying, the same plea falling from his lips yet again.

Ever since I helped him with his outfit, he hasn’t stopped pushing one idea—he wants to make it a double-date. That way, it wouldn’t have to be so awkward at the beginning.

But who the fuck was I gonna take on a double-date? The only men I’ve talked to recently are Chris, Jimmy, and Shawn.

Chris is just not an option. Even though Jimmy’s sweet, that would be weird as fuck. And Shawn…well, I’m still mad. But I have to pick. And I can’t let Matt down—not when I see how much effort he’s putting into this girl. If I couldn’t have a perfect love story, at least I could watch it.

Shawn.

I stare at his contact on my screen with distaste, my gaze flickering from my phone back to Matt sitting across the table from me.

“But you and her will have so much fun—”

“Please! I don’t know what I’m doing and I just…I’d feel a lot better if I know you’re there,” he says, his face contorted as if he’s in pain.

Sighing, I look down at my screen with hesitation. My fingers brush against the key, my cheek pulsing with a sharp sting as I feel my teeth gnaw into the muscle.

I may hate Shawn right now, but I don’t hate Matt. Matt felt like the first real friend I had made in a while, maybe even ever. And this would help our friendship grow, maybe I’d even like Mia as a friend too.

Ugh.

| To Shawn: Hey, do you wanna go on a double date with me this Friday? |

I send the message before I can rethink the wording. My nose scrunches as I see the read receipt pop up immediately, three dots moving on the screen as I watch Shawn type back.

| From Shawn: Fuck yeah ;) |

Ew. How did I ever think this man was crush-material? Before that dumb party, it was like some sort of unspoken thing, we were always flirting, always touching more than just friends typically would. But now even the thought of his dumb brain coming anywhere close to me made everything in my stomach churn uncomfortably.

“Thank you, you’re the fuckin’ best!” Matt cheers, walking over to me, pulling my head in his hand before planting a platonic kiss on my head. His arms shoot up in the air. He does a stupid little victory dance, nodding his head to an imaginary beat.

“What the fuck.” I look over, seeing Chris staring at his brother incredulously, scratching his head before nodding his face from side to side, turning around and walking back down the hallway.

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in days. For some reason, it makes everything inside of me feel a little bit lighter, like it’s some sort of relief.

Maybe he’s easing up.

I shake the thought off as Matt sits back down, blabbing on about anything and everything.

It’s nice to have a friend.

___

Matt was helping return the favor. It felt weird to bring a boy in the house, my mother was definitely judging. But I needed help. And I liked Matt’s style the first day we talked, plus—who the fuck else was I gonna ask?

“What do you want to wear?” he asks, flipping through the clothes in my closet while peeking his head over his shoulder to look at me sitting on the bed.

I shrug. “Matt, I don’t know. Maybe something comfy, but like…I don’t know,” I whine, huffing as I roll my eyes. Why did this have to be so difficult? Shawn was probably gonna wear what he always wore—black jeans and a long, loose T-shirt, the ones that always had a sports number on the back.

“What about this?” Matt pulls out a skirt.

I immediately shake my head. “Hell no. It’s too windy, I’m not dealing with that.”

He points, nodding as he shoves the article of clothing back into place before shuffling through more options.

“Hey, um, what even happened that night? You know…with Chris,” he mutters, his voice quieter than before.

My face scrunches as I think back on the memory. “I don’t even know. He showed up at window at like, 2 in the morning—”

“How did he know it was your window?” Matt asks, cocking his head to the side as he turns to look at me.

I shake my head quickly. “We made awkward eye contact when he was taking a walk—but that’s not the point. He came here, bribed me to go on a walk—”

“How did he bribe you?” Matt quips. He holds his hands up defensively as I glare at him.

“Trevour, duh.” I state, the obvious information dripping sarcastically as I let out a dramatic sigh, “Then, we went for a walk. It was… nice?” My voice rises almost as if I’m asking a question. Matt nods slowly, his scrunched face unrelenting as I continue to explain, “He gave me an apology. I mean, he didn’t say sorry, but like—well—you know what, I don’t fucking know, okay? All I know is that we came back here but my window had slipped shut. He was gonna sleep on the floor, but he just couldn’t and we were too tired to argue and—”

“And then you cuddled like a married couple?” he cuts in.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, squinting at him as I cross my leg over the other, resting my hands on my knee. “Matthew, shut the fuck up. I’m going on this date for you—I’d rather lick a toilet seat, fuck a splintered broom, and—”

Matt cuts me off, walking over and shoving clothes into my lap. “What about these?” he asks.

Looking down towards the fabrics, I purse my lips to the side. Baggy cargos, a tight fitted black long sleeve shirt with lace details, and a maroon bra—

BRA?

“WHY THE FUCK—”

“WAIT SORRY!” he panics, grabbing the bra and throwing it aggressively back into the closet, “I just didn’t wanna hear about you fucking a splintered mop or whatever the fuck so I panicked and I—-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” he shouts, his eyes bulging as he covers his mouth with one of his hands.

My face relaxes and I swallow thickly. He didn’t mean to, it’s fine. He saw my fucking bra, but it’s fine.

“You’re lucky we’re friends and I like your dad,” I whisper lowly, my eyes twitching as I inhale a shaky breath, “-or I would slap your man tits so fucking hard they melted off your scrawny fucking chest, you stupid little—”

“Oh my god, wait! This is like—just another level of friendship for us then! Think of it that way,” he says, slapping my arm lightly.

Is this bitch for real?

“I’m gonna go change in the bathroom,” I announce, stalking off towards the bedroom door. I turn around and point my finger directly at his chest, watching as he gulps. “Don’t touch a thing,” I warn.

Matt nods quickly, clasping his hands together as he stands deathly still.

At least he’ll be the only one touching my bra tonight.

___

It wasn’t awful.

Burst of colors and history are painted throughout canvases hung on the colossal walls. Matt and Mia had already ventured off. In fact, it didn’t really seem awkward at all.

It made me smile watching their brief interaction. Matt was being an absolute fool, scratching the back of his neck like a damn dog. Mia, however, was shy, but excited. Apparently she really liked all of this. She loved it even more when she realized Matt would listen to her rant about each masterpiece for hours on end.

Shawn was fine. It wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. I think he could sense my stiffness, being able to understand that whatever we had going on had taken a big step back.

“How’ve you been? Tessa said you guys haven’t hung out for a while,” he points, his hand swinging obnoxiously between our bodies. I think he was trying to hold my hand without directly asking. And it was fucking annoying.

I rub my lips together as I try to keep my gaze pointed ahead. “Yeah, I guess I just haven’t had much time with the project and all,” I answer.

That’s a lie. I had time. Honestly, I've been kind of bored recently, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Shame, we miss you, ya know?” he teases, bumping his shoulder into mine.

They miss me?

My body slumps a little more with each step. I see Matt and Mia from the corner of my eye, a smile crawling on my face as I see him utterly infatuated with her presence. Maybe that could be me someday, having someone who wanted to understand the most pointless things about me.

“Heyyyy,” he waves his hand in front of my face, pulling my attention back to him as I feel my cheeks flush. Damn. I’m like a fucking iPad kid when it came to everything. “If they're too distracting, we can venture off further…you know, just us,” he suggests, his brows lifting on his face as he licks over his lips.

His face is even pissing me off. Why is he looking at me like that?

“Shawn, I’m still upset with you. You drove drunk,”

“I only had a few drinks, you’re being fuckin’ dramatic,” he interupts, huffing as he rolls his eyes.

Only a ‘few drinks’ could do a lot of damage.

I wonder what Chris was like before he lost his mom and his brother. Maybe it was someone like Shawn. Someone so incapable of taking any sort of accountability, someone so… careless.

Silence sinks into the air. A brush of heavy tension weighs downward as I try to create just the slightest bit more of distance between us.

“Hey, hey,” he coos, quickly tugging my hand into his before cradling it with his other. I look up at him as he stares down at me, my face twisting as I gaze around us. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s dumb, I know. I just… I guess I just wanted to have fun and make sure you had fun too, alright? That’s all it was, it won’t happen again. Swear,” he says, pulling our hands apart and interlocking our pinkies.

My eyes squint harder at him before I let out a deep sigh, slowly nodding before retracting my hand back to my own body. At least he’s taking accountability.

“We’re gonna go get ice cream, you guys wanna come with?” Matt asks, stalking towards us with a stupid smile on his face. My eyes fall down, seeing his hand pulling Mia’s lightly, his thumb swiveling against the back of her palm. Oh, he’s so fucking adorable with her.

“Nah, go ahead. I’ll drive her back, go have fun,” Shawn answers before even sparring me a singular look.

Bitch. He’s not even my boyfriend and he’s trying to speak on my behalf. Yeah, this isn’t gonna work.

“Are you sure…?” Matt’s eyes trail to mine.

I purse my lips before giving an affirmative nod. They’ll have more fun alone. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t have too much fun,” I joke, offering a small wave as they walk down the marble flooring, disappearing past a corner.

The sound of Shawn’s chuckle makes my face furrow, my lips curling into a tight line as I raise my brow at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask

Shrawn shrugs. “Just couldn’t wait to get me alone, could ya?” he teases, playfully wiggling his brows and sparing me a wink.

I chose this over ice cream?

___

That date hadn’t ended awful, but definitely not good, either. I was still waiting for Matt to finish up. It had been hours at this point, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be anything but happy for him.

I didn’t know where else to go. I felt really drained, I just wanted someone to talk to. This was the only thing I could think of. And even though it seemed a bit odd at first, it felt normal, as if this was something that has happened at least twenty times before.

“And then what happened after Matt and Mia left?” Jimmy asks, petting Trevor nuzzled up in his lap as he gives me his full, undivided attention.

He was more than happy when I showed up knocking at the door. I was just glad it wasn’t Chris who answered. And speaking of, I still didn’t know where he was. Probably in his room or something.

“Well…” I look up to the ceiling, retracing the memory as I explain, “It wasn’t bad, I guess? We used to, I don’t know—flirt? But he’s just so…I don’t know how to explain it,” I groan, sinking further into the couch.

Jimmy laughs. “Then what went wrong today? He seems sweet enough, why were you even mad at him?” he asks.

My eyes scrunch close. I wasn’t gonna tell him that detail. I had already told him too much, definitely more than I should have.

“I think he was gonna kiss me and I…I don’t know. I just kinda brushed it off and asked him to drive me home and well… here we are,” I sing, covering my face with my hands.

The old man looks down at Trevor as he rubs the dog’s ears. “Maybe you just gotta get out of your head and give him another chance, kid. Whatever he did, just put it aside and try things out. I mean, thank god for my wife giving me chances. If not, she would’ve left me in the dust when I accidentally got paint in her damn hair,” he breathes out gruffly, laughing dryly at the reminiscent memory.

A smile climbs on my face as I listen to his tone get softer. The slight joke holds meaning, a lot of meaning. No wonder Matt was so sweet, he knew how to treat a woman. Chris on the other hand? Maybe he did at some point. Definitely not now though.

“Thanks, Jimmy–”

“What did I say!” he exclaims, standing up and ruffling my hair, “Call me J-Dawg!”

I shake my head with a vicious laugh. “I’m not calling you that.”

The man shrugs before stalking off towards the garage. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go fix this damn light switch in the garage, keep Trevor company until Matt gets home, alright?”

I don’t have time to offer a response as I hear the heavy door click shut. My eyes drift over to the snoozing dog, my heart melting into a puddle as I watch his closed eyes flicker with a vivid dream.

He could be dreaming of going on a walk—a walk with her, a woman I’ve never met—a woman I’d never get the chance to meet.

Maybe Chris dreamed of her too. Maybe that was why he didn’t typically sleep well.

“I need to pee, hold on, Trev.” I announce to the dog, slightly shaking my head at myself. Not only is he a dog, but he’s dead asleep. Did it really matter if I let him know?

As I start to get up from the couch, I freeze hearing his voice.

“Why’re you in my house? And why are you telling my dog you need to fuckin’ piss?”

Chris.

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f1shart · 2 days ago

Text

thinking about buzz beating up the curious brothers again. like what do you mean

but buzz is older than them?? time to dissect this (and by that i mean overly complicate it!!)

Making Sense of Buzz Grunt Beating the Shit Out of the Curious Brothers (and Loki)

I went into this assuming that, considering how old Buzz is, him beating up the Curious brothers + Loki as a teenager was statistically impossible, especially considering their age in actual human years—but was I wrong? Is it actually possible that Buzz did fight them within the time he spent as a teenager?

First, some supporting information.

Age Conversions Based on Adult Lifestage

Buzz: Day 14 or 43 years old Pascal: Day 10 or 38 years old Loki: Day 9 or 36 years old Vidcund: Day 6 or 32 years old Lazlo: Day 1 or 25 years old

These aren't even my own age headcanons for them (except Buzz's which is surprisingly accurate), just calculations. If you want to know how I got them then feel free to ask 😇

Evidence Provided by Memories

As seen in the picture, Buzz fought everyone "as soon as he aged up." However, it's possible he just has no memories of early teenhood.

Pascal similarly gained the memory as soon as he aged up. This idea is more plausible with him because he was accepted into private high school after the fact. Sure, in gameplay, this can happen as late as the last day as a teenager, but I doubt this is what Maxis was trying to convey since they literally handpicked these memories. Meaning: Buzz beat him up in middle school…?

Loki's only teen memory is losing the fight.

According to the Sims Wiki, Vidcund has no memory of Buzz beating him up (how hard did he hit him?)

Similar to Loki and Pascal, Lazlo's first memory as a teenager is getting beat up by Buzz.

Is This Possible In Normal Gameplay?

Disregarding any other family memories that arose around the time (I do NOT want to try to decipher the entire Curious timeline), the fight memories are in fact possible with their Sim ages.

The teen lifespan in The Sims 2 is 15 days long. Buzz is 4 days older than Pascal, 5 days older than Loki, 8 days older than Vidcund, and 13 days older than Lazlo.

Ensuring that everyone still falls within the teen lifestage, I made a table of the earliest and latest possible ages everyone could have been when Buzz attacked:

Converting their teen days into human years, Buzz either beat them all up as an 18 year old OR slowly picked them off until age 17 which is right before he kissed Lyla. None of this, however, is possible based on the initial age calculations.

Buzz's Attacks Based On the Adult Age Conversions

Buzz is 5 years older than Pascal, 7 years older than Loki, 11 years older than Vidcund, and 18 years older than Lazlo. There are two ways we can interpret their memories: either the Curious brothers + Loki were teenagers when Buzz attacked, or Buzz was a teenager when he started attacking them.

On the basis that Buzz is still a teenager, and assuming each fight happened in close proximity to one another, he specifically had to have been 18 years old when each one happened. This makes Pascal a 13 year old, Loki an 11 year old, Vidcund a 7 year old, and Lazlo…a newborn. ☠️ Alternatively, Buzz may have started younger and continued fighting until 18, the only teen year he could have possibly encountered Lazlo in.

If that seems implausible, then maybe Buzz wasn't a teenager and instead beat the boys up as soon as they turned thirteen. This would make him 18 for Pascal, 20 for Loki, 24 for Vidcund, and 31 for Lazlo. (Side note: Tank and Ripp would have been born by then.)

Conclusion

Regardless of whether you base it on Buzz been a teen or the victims being teens, him beating up Lazlo looks pretty bad. And if you go by gameplay rules, everything flows surprisingly well. According to normal gameplay AND real-life age conversions, Buzz is a big meanie who beat up at least one kid as a legal adult, at least with the age conversion system I used…

Me personally, I think he was college-aged when he started bullying them. (Or maybe they attacked him? Plot twist.) Of course, what I discussed weren't the only possibilities, but they should give a good idea of how things actually went… and maybe they can inspire your own headcanons! ^_^

this is such a useless pseudo-essay LMFAOO

#strangetown #general buzz grunt #pascal curious #vidcund curious #lazlo curious #loki beaker #ts2 #lore dump #<- not really but i tend to put ramblings here

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blushsturns · 1 day ago

Note

Hiii could you do a Chris version of the fic where reader does the trend of not saying ily back and he starts crying after she leaves?

title: love you back

word count: 1717

matt’s version is here!

Your boyfriend Chris was lying next to you on the bed, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled up against your chest. You wrapped your arms around him to pull him even impossibly closer, your head resting comfortably on his chest. You took in a deep breath to take in his intoxicating scent, a satisfied hum leaving your lips. You loved laying here with him, cuddling him, and being close to him at all times. It was nice that Chris was also clingy with you, so the relationship wasn’t one sided.

“Do you have to go film a car video with your brothers, baby? Do they really need you there?” You whined out, your bottom lip jutting out into a small pout.

He looked down at you, his ocean blue eyes filled with sadness, his fingers moving up and down your lower back in a slow, comforting motion. “I know, baby. I wish I could skip out on this one. Luckily, it’s just a car video and nothing too crazy. You gonna be good when I’m gone?”

He flashed you a small smirk after he spoke, wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully. His hand moved underneath your shirt from behind to begin running his fingers against your bare skin causing a soft shudder to run down your spine at the sensation. “You know I will. I’m buried in homework, literally.”

The homework that you have been neglecting has been piled up next to you on the bed. At this point, you both were probably laying on the papers, but you didn’t care at this very moment. You wanted to spend as much time with Chris as possible.

Just when you thought you had more time together, Chris’ phone rang with Nick’s name displayed on the screen. Chris groaned in frustration, pulling away from you to immediately answer it. “Hello?” Pause. “Yes?” Another pause. He looks at you, mouthing Nick’s name as if you didn’t already see his name pop up on the screen. “Okay, be there in 10. Bye.” Chris sighed hard as he set his phone down next to him, pulling his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands moving into his hair. “I’m sorry I gotta leave, ma.”

You immediately shake your head and move your body over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, placing your hand onto his thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll be here when you get here back. Give us, and me, some good content, okay?”

Chris looked at you with a widening grin on his face, a soft chuckle emitting from his lips. “That I can do.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Okay, baby, I’m gonna go before they cut off my head, or my dick. Maybe both. I’ll pick up some takeout on the way home.”

“My man.” You say simply, and proudly as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering there for a moment before pulling away. “Now go before they really cut off your head and your dick. You need those, and honestly, so do I.” You flash him a small smirk before allowing a soft giggle to emit from your lips.

Chris lets out a soft chuckle and nods his head, getting up from the bed and grabs his phone, slipping it into his pocket. He leans down to place his index finger underneath your chin to tilt your head up, your eyes locking together in a brief moment before he presses his lips back against yours sweetly. You kiss him back softly, smiling against his lips before allowing him to pull away and he walked over to the doorway before turning to look back at you. “Alright, ma. I’ll be back before you know it. I love you.”

After you hear him say I love you, you debate if you should pull the little prank on him that you saw earlier when you took a break from your homework. It was a video of the girlfriend not saying I love you back to the boyfriend and he genuinely got so confused about it. It wasn’t like you to not say it back, and you already knew Chris would notice it right away, but he’s messed with you before, why not get him back?

“Have a good time filming, baby!” Was all you said back, flashing him a small, innocent smile as you stared up at him.

Your eyes stayed locked onto his face the entire time as you noticed his facial expression changed. He went from smiling, to suddenly he was confused. His eyebrow arched up in a confused motion, looking down at you. “Ma, I said I love you. Did you hear me?”

You nodded your head at his words, biting gently onto your bottom lip as you looked at him. You felt bad, but you wanted to play along with the little joke to see what would happen. Chris was always full of jokes and even pulled some pranks on you and always fell from them, but you never really pulled anything on him before. You get most of your material from TikTok and you doubt that Chris has seen anyone do this to their significant other before. “I said have a good time filming.” Was all you replied back with.

He immediately walked back over to the bed and sat down next to you on the bed. He grabbed your hand in his, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His face filled with worry, concern, sadness. It made your heart ache immediately seeing him like this and you knew you couldn’t play around much longer if he was going to be this upset about it. You never wanted to upset him, ever. “Baby, what’s wrong? I said I love you and you didn’t say it back, did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You immediately said, shaking your head and squeezing his hands back. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all.”

“I feel like I did. It’s not like you to not say I love you back, especially not when one of us are leaving to go somewhere.” Sadness filled his voice, his thumb running across the back of your palm, which usually relaxes you, but you felt the guilt inside of you eating you alive as you tried to keep up with the silly little prank.

“You didn’t do anything wrong at all, baby. I promise.” You squeezed his hand tightly, scooting closer to him as you kept your eyes solely focused on him.

“But you didn’t..say.. do you love me?” He looked at you with tears welling up in his eyes and that’s when you knew you couldn’t play around anymore. You didn’t like to see Chris upset. It wasn’t often when he showed his emotions like this, but he wasn’t afraid to show them which meant that he was genuine and true about his emotions and didn’t care who saw him cry, even if it made him feel vulnerable.

You nod your head immediately, your heart aching as you notice a tear had fallen down Chris’ cheek. You used your free hand to lean over to wipe it away, feeling like you were on the brink of tears yourself. “Baby, I was kidding. Of course I love you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.” You squeezed his hand tightly, playing with the ring on his finger. “So, I saw a video of a couple not saying I love you back to the other and thought it would be silly to do to you. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was supposed to be funny.”

Chris looked at you the entire time as you spoke, his eyebrow furrowed up in a confused manner, pressing his lips together in a firm line before opening his mouth up to speak, “Is this you getting me back from the silly little pranks I pulled on you like when I told you that the store didn’t have your favorite lipstick when in reality I forgot the name of it and didn’t wanna ask you without looking suspicious?”

You rolled your eyes as he reminded you of the story from part of your Christmas gift last year. Typical Chris to not just ask you, or someone else and instead just not get it because he didn’t want to get the wrong thing. He meant well, and made up for it, but still. “I guess it is.” You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

His body seemed to relax, the tension in the room had faded and his cheeks were slightly blotchy from crying, but his blue eyes were bright and full of warmth and happiness, rather than the sadness that had filed them minutes prior. “What am I gonna do with you, hm?” He smirked at you as he licked over his lips, pulling his free hand over to grip your chin with his fingers with a bit of force, causing a soft gasp to emit from your lips. “You gonna make it up to me, my little jokester?”

You loved when he was a little rough with you, especially when you knew the reasons behind it. “And just how would I do that that, baby?”

He grinned at your question, keeping his grip on your chin so your eyes can lock together in an intense gaze, his voice teasing, filling with need and desire. “When I get home, you’re all mine. No homework, no videos, no distractions. You’re mine and you’re going to make it up to me. The only thing I want to hear come out of that pretty mouth tonight is how much you love me, and how I make you feel. Understood?”

You nodded your head slowly, a soft whimper leaving your lips at the tone of his voice and the feeling of his grip against your chin. His hot and heavy breath lingered against your lips; your heart was beating rapidly in your chest from the anticipation between the two of you. Your core felt hot from the excitement filling throughout your veins.

“Understood, baby.”

Tonight couldn’t get here fast enough.

notes: thanks for the request! send any requests, comments, etc to my inbox!

taglist:

@strangelife122 @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniszn @estellesdoll @freshsturnzx @ivyyyyyysposts @sturnberries @sturniolochrismatt @lovesturni0l0s

-nessa

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo blurb #sturniolo blurb #sturniolo fic #sturniolo fanfic #blushsturnsღ

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sturniololuvz · 3 days ago

Note

hey i would love a story where the triplets younger sister (15-16) always was cuddling her brothers and kissing their cheeks because it was how she was raised and when her friends came over she was cuddling matt on the couch and her friends started to make fun of her the next day at school so she distanced herself from the boys, refusing to even go near them so they talk to her about it

PLSSSSS

okayyyy

“Too Old for Hugs?”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N had always been affectionate with her brothers. It wasn’t weird—it was just how they were raised. She hugged them when they got home, kissed their cheeks before they left, and cuddled up next to them on the couch whenever they were watching a movie. It was just normal.

Or at least, she thought it was.

The night before, her friends had come over, and she had been curled up against Matt on the couch like always, his arm lazily draped around her as they watched some random YouTube video.

She didn’t think anything of it—until the next day at school.

Her so-called friends had spent all day teasing her.

“Dude, you’re way too old to be cuddling your brothers like that.”

“Do you seriously still kiss them on the cheek? That’s so embarrassing.”

“You act like a little kid, Y/N. It’s kinda weird.”

She had laughed it off at first, pretending it didn’t bother her. But as the comments kept coming, something in her started to shift.

Maybe… they were right?

Maybe she was too old for that stuff.

So, she stopped.

At first, the boys didn’t notice.

Y/N had never been super obvious about her affection—it was just there in the little moments. But when she suddenly stopped hugging them when they got home, stopped curling up next to them during movie nights, stopped even sitting close to them—it didn’t take long for them to realize something was wrong.

Chris was the first to say something.

“Why are you sitting over there?” he asked one night, frowning when he saw Y/N sitting on the opposite side of the couch instead of next to Matt like she usually did.

Y/N shrugged. “Just wanted to sit here.”

Matt and Nick exchanged a look.

“Okay… but, like, you never sit over there,” Nick pointed out.

Y/N kept her eyes on the TV, pretending not to care. “Maybe I wanna start.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “You mad at us or something?”

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

Matt tilted his head. “Then what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing.

And the boys knew it wasn’t nothing.

But Y/N was stubborn, and no matter how much they asked, she kept brushing it off.

It wasn’t until later that night that they finally got the truth out of her.

She had been in her room, scrolling through her phone, when there was a knock at her door.

“Y/N/N, open up,” Chris called.

She sighed. “Go away.”

“Not happening,” Matt’s voice added.

“Seriously,” Nick chimed in. “We’re coming in either way.”

Before she could protest, the door opened, and the three of them stepped inside, all looking way too serious for her liking.

Chris sat on the edge of her bed. “Alright, talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered.

Matt scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Nick crossed his arms. “Y/N, come on. You’ve been acting weird all week. You won’t even look at us.”

Chris nudged her foot. “Did we do something?”

That made her look up. “No! It’s not you guys, I swear.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “Then what is it?”

She hesitated.

Chris softened his voice. “Y/N/N, whatever it is, you can tell us.”

She chewed her lip, debating for a second, before finally sighing.

“My friends…” she started, picking at a loose thread on her blanket. “They—um—they said it was weird that I always hug you guys. And that I still kiss your cheeks and stuff. They said I act like a little kid.”

Silence.

Then—

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chris blurted.

Matt sat up straighter. “That’s why you’ve been acting weird?”

Y/N felt heat rush to her face. “I just—maybe they’re right? Like, I am kinda old for that stuff—”

“No, you’re not,” Nick interrupted firmly.

Chris shook his head, clearly pissed. “Who cares what they think? They’re your friends, not your damn family.”

Matt nudged her knee. “Y/N, you’ve always been affectionate with us. That’s just how you are. That’s how we are. It’s not weird—it’s just us.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. And if they don’t get that, then they don’t really know you.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling her eyes sting a little. “I just didn’t want you guys to think I was weird too.”

Chris groaned, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into his chest. “Dude, shut up and hug me right now.”

Y/N let out a wet laugh, melting into his arms.

Matt sighed dramatically and wrapped his arms around both of them. “Yeah, you’re never getting rid of us.”

Nick rolled his eyes but joined in, squishing her between them. “Seriously. You’re stuck with us, sorry.”

Y/N sniffled. “I love you guys.”

Chris kissed the top of her head. “We love you too, dummy. And don’t listen to those assholes.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, screw them.”

Nick smirked. “But, uh, if you did wanna give us their names…”

Y/N snorted. “No fighting my friends, Nick.”

Chris grinned. “No promises.”

And just like that, everything felt right again.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolos #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sister sturniolo #sturniolo series

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gingiesworld · 2 days ago

Text

In The Stars (2/?)

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, violence

Word Count: 4.5k

18+ MINORS DNI

Since the night the two had finally opened their hearts, embracing their feelings for one another instead of hiding away, they had begun to spend more and more time together. Although, they had kept it a secret from Pietro, wanting to enjoy the peace and tranquillity behind closed doors. Wanda was sat at the island, watching as Y/N moved around the kitchen, cooking a dinner they had promised her. She admired how they moved around, how they held themselves up on their feet, soon raising a brow as they turned to face her, leaning against the counter.

"Do you think we should maybe tell Piet? About us?" Y/N asked her, Wanda sensed their nervousness, moving around to stand in front of them, taking one of their hands in hers.

"Maybe." She answered, soon moving her hand to cup their cheek, looking in their eyes. "But, is it too selfish to want to stay in our own little world a little while longer?" She questioned, stroking their cheek with her thumb.

"I guess not, but he's my best friend." Y/N replied, taking a deep breath. "He's always been there for me, and I hate keeping secrets from him, he's always been there for me, through everything. I just."

"How about we tell them on Sunday?" Wanda suggested. "At Sunday dinner?" Y/N exhaled, nodding slowly before Wanda stepped up on her toes, kissing them softly. "But, I think dinner's going to burn if you don't concentrate. We don't want to burn the kitchen down, do we?" She teased them, patting their cheek before stepping away.

"You know, I have never seen you cook before." Y/N stated with a smirk, stirring the Bolognese. "It's like you might be just as bad of a cook as your twin." They chuckled as she shook her head, a smile forming on her face.

"I can cook, I just haven't cooked in a while." She told them. "Not since I moved here with my brother and his wife." She moved to stand beside them, watching as they added some herbs to the sauce. "But, maybe I can cook for you next time." She bumped her hip against theirs.

"You know, I may just take you up on that." They accepted with a smile, glancing down at her. She soon moved to help set the table as Y/N finished with cooking, as Wanda grabbed their drinks, Y/N grabbed their plates, following behind her, placing them down before pulling her chair out for her before moving to take their seat. Wanda watched as they started to eat, glancing at their left hand, seeing their ring finger bare.

"You took of your wedding ring?" She questioned, Y/N wiped their mouth after swallowing what they had in their mouth.

"Yeah, I figured it was time." They told her. "I honestly don't quite know what we are, or if we are even putting a label on us yet, but I want to be all in this between us." Wanda's heart beat rapidly in her chest, waiting for their next words. "I know that what Jean and I had was special, it was amazing but I believe that we could be just as or more than that. I want to believe that."

"I do too." Wanda whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just, I'm scared to get hurt again, I can't go through that again." Y/N reached over, taking her hand in theirs.

"I can't say that we won't have our disagreements, every couple has their disagreements." They started, looking in her eyes as a gentle smile took place on their face. "But we are both adults, we can always talk through everything, any problem that we come across, we will get through it all together. Love isn't always enough to keep a relationship working, there's more to it, it's give and take, compromises and sacrifices, but it's never all going to be one sided." They lifted her hand to their lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "I am all in this Wanda, as much as it scares me too, but I want this. I want us." Wanda only saw confidence and comfort in their eyes as they spoke. "But I need you to want us too."

"I do." Wanda spoke shakily, their words taking an effect on her. "I just."

"I'm not him, Wanda." They cut her off, already knowing she was going to repeat her previous statement. "I will never ever be him. I want to be your safety and comfort, I want to be someone who you can rely on when you need me, however you need me."

"I'm sorry." Wanda looked down, her plate suddenly becoming more interesting until she heard their chair move. They got on their knees beside her, a hand resting on the back of her chair whilst her hand remained in their other.

"You have nothing to apologise for." They told her tenderly, moving her hair from her face. "You're allowed to feel how you feel, there's nothing wrong with it, and I will always be here to listen if ever you need. I will give you reassurance if that's what you need." Wanda only nodded, a small smile on her face as Y/N kissed her hand once more. "Now, let's finish eating and we can watching your Dick Van Dyke before you go home if you'd like?" Wanda nodded, picking up her fork as Y/N got back in their seat, stealing glances at her every now and then. There was no denying that the two still had a lot of work to do on themselves, but there's no saying that they both can't heal side by side as they grow together.

Y/N still found themselves in the cemetery, cleaning up Jean's headstone and replacing the wilting flowers. Soon sitting on the ground, leaning back on their arms as they looked up at the clear blue sky, the weight that they had felt in their chest for the past two years, barely noticeable.

"I uh, I kind of fell for someone." They started, turning their attention to Jean's picture on the stone, a small smile on their face. "I don't know if it would be considered too soon, because it's only been a couple of years since, well you know." They chuckled lightly. "But I believe that I could fall in love with her, I can't quite explain it, but I've never felt like this, not since you." They sighed as they soon lay back, watching the clouds float along in the sky. "You would have loved her yourself, truthfully she reminds me so much of how you used to be, she's strong and beautiful, smart and she really is amazing." They rested their hands behind their head. "But she's just as terrified as I am, I guess we both don't want to be hurt again." They squeezed their eyes shut. "I can't lose another person who I love, I just don't think I would survive losing her like I lost you." They swallowed the lump in their throat, moving to their feet. "I just want you to know that you will always have a place in my heart, you were the person to show me how to love, that I could be loved and you have no idea how grateful I am to have had our time together." They wiped their eyes, taking a shaky breath. "Even if it was as fleeting as it seemed, the pain of losing you doesn't outweigh the time we had and the lessons that you taught me. I love you, my phoenix." Y/N pressed two fingers to their lips, pressing a kiss before placing them on the picture. "I'll be back again, I'm never going to forget you." With that, they made their way to their car, settling in the driver's seat, resting their head on the steering wheel, giving them a moment or two before they decided to head to Pietro's for Sunday dinner, before they were going to tell Pietro about the two of them.

Once Y/N had pulled up outside their best friend's home, their heart was beating out of their chest, afraid of what Pietro would say about them and Wanda starting whatever they are. They reluctantly stepped out of the car, every step heavier as they approached the front door, taking a deep breath before they let themselves inside. The house already smelled of roast pork, quietly closing the door behind them, they made their way towards the living room, where they found Wanda sat alone with a book in her hand.

"Hey." They spoke softly, gaining her attention, a shy smile on their face as they nervously stepped inside, taking a seat on the sofa beside her. Wanda smiled gently, the butterflies swarming in her stomach, she was both nervous and excited.

"Hey." She greeted them, placing her book down on the coffee table before turning to face them. "How was your morning?" She asked them, knowing what their routine was.

"It was alright." They nodded, picking at their cuticles until she reached over and took their hand in hera. "I guess in someway, I feel somewhat lighter than before." Wanda's smile widened as she scooted closer to them. "How about you? You nervous?" They asked her, playing with the rings on her fingers.

"I am." She nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I have been replaying what we're going to say in my head, coming up with the different outcomes, but we won't really know what will happen until we tell him." She told them, Y/N nodded in agreement, lifting her hand to their lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a gesture that seems to make her heart beat quicken everytime.

"We will do it together." Y/N whispered, the two separating as they heard footsteps approaching. Then Monica entered the room with Pietro following behind her with their drinks.

"I told you they would be here." Pietro told his wife with a triumphant smirk. "It's like clockwork every week." Monica shook her head as Y/N thanked Pietro for their drink.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, it's like the two of you are married." Monica teased Pietro, Wanda giggling as the two made disgusted faces at her statement.

"I'm sorry to say that your husband is most definitely not my type." Y/N told her. "If we were to be married, it would be more of a pity marriage on my part." Pietro looked offended as both women laughed. "It's true! Who would feed you otherwise, you'd kill yourself with your own cooking." They defended as Pietro scoffed, turning away dramatically.

"Well I have you know, I would bring more to our marriage than just bad cooking." Pietro told them.

"Like what? You're not exactly handy around here either." Wanda added, earning a glare from her twin.

"It's true." Monica agreed, sipping her lemonade with a smirk. Everyone burst out laughing as Pietro tried his hardest to fight his own smile.

"Anyways Y/N, I do have a question." Pietro started, turning to face them. "When did you stop wearing your wedding ring? I've noticed you've not wore it for a while."

"It's been a couple of months, at least I think." They answered him truthfully, remembering that they had stopped wearing it the morning after they had slept while on call with Wanda. "I figured that it's time, Jean is always going to be a huge part of my life, she helped me figure out the person I wanted to be and well, I can't keep living in the past and always wonder what if." They answered, half truthfully.

"I'm proud of you." Pietro told them honestly, a gentle smile on his face. "Jean would be proud of you." Y/N only nodded before taking a swig of their beer. As the afternoon went on, the four of them sat around the table, eating and bullying Pietro's lack of talent in domesticity.

"Before we finish here, we need to talk." Wanda started, her eyes finding Y/N's who only nodded for her to continue. "You know you're always going to be the most important man in my life, but you need to know that Y/N and I." She took a deep breath as a silence took over the room.

"We've kind of been spending time together." Y/N continued for her, looking at Pietro, whose expression remained stoic. "We don't quite have a label on what we both are yet, but we are figuring that out together."

"So, you both have been lying to me?" Pietro spoke calmly, too calm which made a chill run through them both. "You have both been sneaking around behind my back?" He looked between the two, ignoring as Monica gave him a pleading look.

"No, it's not like that." Wanda tried, watching as he just shook his head. "I have feelings for them, I can't quite explain really how it started between us, but it has. We were both afraid of tellin you because we didn't know how you would react." Pietro remained silent.

"I do really care about her." Y/N confessed. "More than I should, but I know what I feel for her isn't like what I felt for Jean, it's different. Completely different." Pietro's eyes softened slightly as he listened to them. "You know, I love Jean, I always will, but that doesn't mean that I won't love Wanda." Wanda reached over and took their hand as they spoke. "Because I am falling for her, more and more each time I'm with her." Pietro pulled a disgusted expression. "No, not like that, hell we haven't even took that step yet. You know yourself that I'm an all in kind of person, you know that, you saw that with Jean and I." Y/N took a deep breath. "What I'm saying is that I do believe that Wanda and I could have a future together, I do see that, I don't even know if she sees that herself, but I don't care if she doesn't just yet." Y/N turned to gaze at Wanda, who had tears forming in her eyes. "I'm a patient person when it comes to someone I truly care about, I would always be patient with you because I think." They shook their head with a chuckle. "No, I know, I know that I am falling for her, I am truly falling for you and the truth is, I don't want to stop falling for you." Pietro smiled as Y/N wiped a tear that had escaped Wanda's eye.

"I'm falling for you too." Wanda whispered shakily. "I really am and all I ask is that you would be there to catch me."

"Of course, I'll always catch you." They told her. "I'm not afraid of this anymore, as long as I have you by my side, I'm not scared." Wanda cupped their cheek and pressed a soft passionate kiss to their lips, breaking apart as Pietro faked a cough.

"As touching as all of this is." He started, a hard expression. "I just have to say this one thing, I am really happy for you both. You both deserve all the happiness in the world." He smiled at the two, both Y/N and Wanda smiled.

"You know, I thought this was going to end differently." Y/N stated.

"How so?" Monica questioned.

"Well, I thought I would be getting a punch in the face or something." They chuckled. "Especially with her being your little sister."

"Twin!" Wanda defended herself, struggling to hold back her smile.

"I am still twelve minutes older." Pietro stated triumphantly, leaning back in his chair whilst Wanda just shook her head with a smile on her face.

Wanda had decided to head to Y/N's after dinner, she was sat on the sofa, her feet tucked under her as Y/N brought her a glass of wine with their beer. She smiled and said a soft thank you as she took the drink from them, watching as they sat beside her, sipping their beer. She leaned her head on her hand as her arm rested on the back of the sofa.

"What?" Y/N questioned, a curious look in their eye as they watched her carefully.

"Did you mean it?" She asked them. "What you told Pietro, did you really mean it?" Y/N placed their bottle on the coffee table, turning to fully face her.

"I did." They answered her, rest their hand on her knee, rubbing small circles over her skin. "I meant every word, and I'm not always certain about my feelings, but I am certain about what I feel for you. I want this, you and I, it's what I want. It's what I crave and I." They chuckled lightly, Wanda tilted her head slightly, confused. "I can't get you out of my mind, when we're not together, and even when we are together, you are all I think about." They exhaled before continuing. "It's intoxicating, it's like you're all around me, even when you're not." Wanda moved to place her glass down on the table before settling back on the sofa. "I uh, I have been wanting to ask you this, maybe in a more romantic date or something." Wanda watched as they became nervous, her own heart beating rapidly in her chest. "Will you be my maybe, I." Wanda smiled at their nervousness, leaning forward and pressing her lips to theirs.

"I would be honoured to be your girlfriend." She told them with a smile, Y/N exhaled in relief before pressing their lips against hers, the two breaking the kiss with a smile.

"You have no idea how happy I am right now." They told her honestly, resting their forehead against hers.

"I'm sure I do, because you have made me the happiest I have been in a very long time." Wanda spoke quietly. Y/N shifted slightly, moving their hand to cup her face as they looked in her eyes.

"I will only ever want you to feel happy and comfortable with me." They told her, caressing her cheek with their thumb. Wanda moved to kiss them, more passionately than before.

Time seemed to pass by faster, the moments were filled with love and happiness. Although the two had never said those three words out loud to each other, but neither of them could really hide from their growing feelings for one another with each moment.

"So, you and my sister." Pietro said as he sipped his beer, the two deciding to hang out outside of the confines of either homes.

"Yup." Y/N nodded, finishing their drink before ordering another round, placing Pietro's in front of him. "I'm sorry if it's weird."

"No, it's not weird." He told them, turning on his stool to face them. "It's nice to see the two of you happy. I never knew what Wanda was like when she was with Vis, but I know she was unhappy, especially with everything she told us." Y/N listened to him, hanging on to every word. "But I've never seen her this happy since we were kids."

"She deserves to be happy." Y/N spoke softly.

"And so do you." He reminded them, watching as a smile formed on their face.

"I am happy, like really happy." Y/N admitted. "Being with Wanda is just, it's amazing. I can be myself with her, and she doesn't even care that I have some traits that are annoying to a lot of people." They smiled as they thought of her. "Even when I'm in the garage, she's always right there with me, she has been helping me with the project I'm working on, I've been teaching her about carpentry and how to use the tools and she seems to enjoy it."

"Are you sure she does?" A voice sounded from beside them. The two turned around to see a tall blonde man stood there.

"This conversation is kind of private." Y/N told him firmly.

"Well, you are talking about Wanda Maximofg right?" He smirked as he looked between the two. "If you ask me, she doesn't really have much good to offer to a relationship. Especially in the sack." With that, Y/N swung at him, landing a punch on his jaw.

"Y/N." Pietro spoke, a warning in his tone. "Leave it."

"Yeah Y/N, leave it." He smirked, rubbing his jaw. "Better yet, leave Wanda, you could do much better with paying for a hooker." His eyes remained on them. "Hell, she does actually give one good blowjob, that's about all she's good for." Y/N saw red, lunging at him and tackling him to the ground, punching him repeatedly in the face.

"Y/N! Stop!" Pietro yelled, pulling them off of him, leading them away from the bar towards the exit. "What the hell was that?!" He questioned once they were outside, standing on the pavement.

"You heard everything he was saying about her!" Y/N yelled, still angry at the words spoken about Wanda. "He completely disrespected her, and I will never let anyone disrespect anyone I love!" They took a deep breath, ignoring Pietro's eyes widening. "He's lucky I didn't kill him."

"You would have if I didn't pull you off of him!" Pietro shot, watching as Y/N shook their head, starting to walk away from the bar. "You need to be more careful with your temper, you don't want the same thing to happen as college do you?!" Y/N stopped in their track, turning around to face him.

"You know I'm not that person anymore." They told him, hurt in their voice.

"Really, I'm pretty sure that I just saw them resurface." He told them, Y/N hung their head, looking down at their hands.

"I changed." They told him. "Since Jean, I haven't been that person since Jean came into my life."

"Really, what about what you did to Scott?" Pietro questioned. "You were lucky back then that there were witnesses of how he tried to take advantage of her, you only got let off with a warning." He reminded them. "You put him into a coma, you lost control and almost killed him."

All Y/N could do was look down at their feet, not wanting to see the disappointment in their best friend's eyes once again. They flinched when he gently placed his hand on their shoulder.

"Come on, let's head home and clean your hands." He spoke softly. Y/N only nodded, turning around and walking in the direction to Pietro's house. The walk was quiet, only the sound of chatter from passers by and cars passing through the night. "So, do you love her?" Pietro broke the silence, Y/N's head shot up, glancing at him. "With what you said earlier."

"I do." Y/N told him. "I really do love her, it's not like how I felt for Jean, it's different, but then again every love isn't the same. We recognise it as love, but it's never the same as it felt for someone before."

"Have you told her?" He asked them, they shook their head no.

"I've told her that I am falling for her, but I haven't said I love you to her." They told him. "I just, I guess I'm scared because if I tell her, what if she takes a step back from us? What if she doesn't feel the same or see the same future as I do."

"You'll never know until you tell her." He told them. "I mean what I said before, she has never been this happy with you before, and with what that jerk was like, who I presume is her ex that she moved to get away from, she most definitely wasn't happy with him."

"I just, I'm waiting for the moment." They told him. "You know, a way to make it special, like under a beautiful sunset or something."

"You don't have to wait for a big time romantic moment, it doesn't have to be during this grand gesture." He told them. "It's much more meaningful and special when you don't expect it, in a quiet moment between the two of you. Whether it be while watching a movie or cooking together. It can be anytime." Y/N nodded as they took his words in, soon stopping the conversation as Pietro's house came into view. Once they both entered the living room, Wanda and Monica were sat watching one of their rom coms without Pietro making jokes all the way through it.

"Hey, what happened?" Wanda asked once her eyes landed on Y/N.

"We met your ex tonight." Pietro stated, taking a seat beside his wife. "He really is a piece of work."

"What did he say?" She asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Just a load of crap." Y/N told her, remaining in their spot by the door.

"Yeah, then he got his ass handed to him." Pietro told her, Monica looked at Y/N, Wanda's eyes following as they both saw their hands, their knuckles bloodied and bruised. "I pulled them away before it got to far." Wanda stood up, looking over Y/N before gesturing for them to follow her. Y/N treaded lightly up the stairs behind her, following her into her bathroom.

"Sit." Wanda told them, letting the sink fill up with warm water, grabbing a cloth before gently taking their hand in hers, cleaning them as Y/N watched her closely.

"I'm sorry." Y/N whispered, Wanda's eyes shot up at their words.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." She told them. "I know first hand what he can be like."

"I just, he said all of these things about you, he overheard Pietro's and I's conversation." Y/N started. "I hated the way he spoke about you, I hated the way he was amused by his own words, I hated that I lost control and became that person I never wanted to be again."

"Hey." Wanda cupped their face, forcing them to look in her eyes. "I don't care about the person you used to be, but I do care about the person you are now. The person I am falling more and more in love with everyday."

"You love me?" They questioned, their eyes never leaving hers.

"I do." She told them honestly. "I have been trying to deny it myself, but I can't anymore. I love you so much, more than I have ever loved anyone before." Y/N wasted no time in pressing their lips against hers, their hands holding her close by her shirt.

"I love you." They whispered against her lips. "I really do. I love you so fucking much." The two smiled, Wanda then moved slightly, finishing her task, causing them to flinch when she grabbed the alcohol wipes from the first aid box. A fear that the two had unknowingly shared seemed to be a silly notion of what could have been. Finally accepting how deeply they both feel for each other.

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader

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citricacidprince · 1 day ago

Note

I was looking at your relativity falls au and I was thinking since Ford in the original series takes off Stan’s hat to show his hair, kinda revealing he is Ford, what if in relativity falls Ford takes the glasses off of Stan and puts them on and that is kinda of the moment

Also I really want more protective! Relativity falls Ford, I want to watch that child go feral and start biting people <3

Hiiiii!!! Sorry it took a super long time to reply to this I just,, this possessed me so much I may or may not have written, uh, 7400 words based on this lol (also a drawing but it’s hidden in the writing haha)

There sadly isn’t a lot of feral protective Ford in this, just sad wet cat baby Ford (tho you get a glimpse of it at the very end), but believe me I have many thoughts of protective Ford as they’re teens hehe!!

Like, they’re so fun to be because they’re the opposite of how they are in the show! Stan was the protector and would get into fights for Ford, but as teens Ford is extremely protective of Stan and will throw himself into a fight he know he can’t win in a moments notice because they insulted Stan, even when Stan tries to insist that it’s okay. These two make me siiiiick 💥💥💥💥💥

Anywho, this mini writing this is just a prolonged scene from Weirdmageddon part 3 but with my Relativity Falls AU paint on it lol

It’s filled with an comical amount of tears because I believe Mabel and Dipper are weepy saps and the baby boys haven’t had the ‘Boys don’t cry’ motto drilled into their heads yet, also they’re like, super traumatized atm haha

Well, have fun reading! Please please please please be nice, I know I’m not the best writer and just write when I’m possessed so please be so niceies to me or I’ll fucking cry <33💥💥💥💥

Everything is under the cut! :]

🍃🪦☁️~~~~~~~~~~~~⛈️👓🥀

Mabel and Dipper could only watch on in shock and horror as one of their beloved great nephew erased the mind of their other beloved great nephew. Dipper didn’t even know the boys still had that blasted machine, much less that they still had it on them here of all places!

Maybe it was good that the children had the memory gun hidden away. After all, they just used it to outwit and defeat Cipher.

However… at what cost?

Stanley’s round face was drenched in silent tears as he held the memory gun to the back of his brother’s head, his gaze completely focused but his trembling grip on the memory gun giving away just how much this was affecting him.

Dipper always thought he’d be ecstatic when Bill Cipher was finally defeated. Spit on his face, dance on his grave, give the worst eulogy in the world, the whole shebang. But now that the moment has finally arrived all he can feel is sick to his stomach.

They’re just kids. They shouldn’t be here. His sweet little grand-nephews shouldn’t be paying for his hubris. This should’ve stayed between him and Bill.

It should have been him.

The bright blue light faded and the memory gun hit the ground, Stanley’s hands shaking even worse now as tears fell to the floor, unable to keep his head up as little hiccups fell from his lips.

Dipper was still squeezing Mabel close to his side, the two frozen in their huddled positions on the floor, gut-wrenching guilt on his face while his sister had her hands over his mouth, only able to watch on with dread.

Dipper only faintly registered that the other members of the zodiac had been released from their tapestry prisons. That blonde woman Mabel seemed to like was rubbing her head as that young Hispanic woman who works for Mabel, Anjelita, held out a hand to help her up. That red-headed hairy lumberjack and that one oddly peppy goth teen helped young Fiddleford through his shaky breathing.

After a couple of moments Dipper heard his sister take a deep shaky breath, his voice wet as one of her hands reached out towards Stanley.

“…L-Lee? Lee, baby come here-” There was a weary and wobbly smile on her lips. She was doing that thing where she tries to be the comforting light in an awful situation, even though she is not doing any better than anyone else at the moment.

She was trying to corral her crying great-nephew into her arms, a mixture of trying to comfort him and herself.

She was swiftly cut off by gravity going wonky.

Dark bricks ripped out of the walls and shot up into the rift up in the blood red sky, Weirdmaggedon falling apart at the seams. Creatures of many shapes and sizes flew up into the rift, the older twins gripping each other close as they stared up into the multicolored light. Everyone was staring up into the sky, hope and relief in their hearts that the nightmare might finally be over.

Everyone but Stanley.

He was intensely staring at the back of his brother’s head, silent tears continuously streaming down his cheeks, unable to see the small content smile on Stanford’s face.

As the light began to envelop the town of Gravity Falls, Stanley reached out his hand to his kneeling brother to try and grab onto him but was unable to before the light reached the two, erasing most traces of Weirdmaggedon’s effects and safely displacing everyone in the Fearamid to the ground below.

The woods were quiet. Everything was much quieter than it was during Weirdmageddon.

There was barely a moment of peace before Dipper and Mabel were sprinting through the woods yelling out for their great-nephews, panic increasing with every passing second.

They finally came across the boys in a small clearing after 2 minutes of franticness. Stanley’s back to the older set of twins and Stanford kneeling in the grass.

Mabel ran much faster than Dipper did, practically throwing herself to her knees as she grabbed Stanley and pulled him tight into her arms. She buried him into the crook of her neck, tears beginning to drip down her face as she ran her fingers through his messy brown curls, trying to soothe him while she gently shushed his crying.

“Shhhh… shhh it’s okay Lee it’s okay sweepea, I’m here, Grunkle Mabel is here pumpkin.”

Dipper would’ve chuckled at the use of ‘Grunkle Mabel’, something Stanley insisted on calling her even after she revealed that she wasn’t a man because he thought Grauntie sounded strange, but he couldn’t really feel anything but heart ache right now. He stepped closer to the crying duo, kneeling down next to them as he glanced over towards Stanford.

He still seemed to be unconscious, quiet as a mouse as he kneeled on the grass. He was so still that Dipper almost wanted to check his pulse to make sure his heart was still beating, but the soft breathing coming from his chest eased his worries. Stanford was always so stressed and on edge the entire time Dipper had known him, which in all honesty, wasn't very long. However, in this moment with that small smile on his lips his nephew almost looked peaceful.

Guilt ate at his heart even more.

God he should’ve seen the warning signs that tension was building between the two boys. He’s the catalyst for causing Weirdmageddon by saying he would train Stanford in Gravity Falls while Stanley went home. He should’ve put his foot down and said Stanford was too young and needed to go home at the end of the summer with his brother. But his great nephew was just so insistent and Dipper himself was scrambling to think of an amazing gift for his twin sister for their first birthday together in 30 years, he just caved and said yes.

He’s the reason Stanley ran with that cracked rift. He was the final crack in the already strained relationship between the boys and he was too blind to notice.

He turned to his sister once more, emotions welling in his heart seeing his sister and nephew so upset and clinging to each other. He gingerly rubbed Stanley’s back and Mabel’s shoulder, softly speaking with sorrow dripping from his voice, “Stanley, I am so sorry… words can’t express how much I didn’t want this to happen. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the consequences of my mistakes..” He gingerly tucked a loose curl behind Stanley’s ear, softly adding on with a feeling of shame flooding his head, “…It should’ve been me.”

Mabel’s head immediately shot up at Dipper’s words, a glare on her wet face as she shot back with a low warning tone, “Dipper Lee Pines.” He quickly shut his mouth. Noted, she wasn’t going to take any self depreciation coming from him at the moment. Can’t say he blames her, he would’ve done the same if any self-depreciating words came from her mouth.

Stanley muffled something against Mabel’s neck instantly making the two stop what they were doing to turn to him. “What was that baby?” Mabel gently asked as Dipper continued to rub his back. The young boy pulled himself away from Mabel’s neck ever so slightly, taking in a deep shaky breath as he shakily repeated himself.

“…n-not Lee-”

The older twins' brows furrow, their hands stilling slightly as it was Dipper’s turn to softly question, “What are you talking about Stanley?”

The brunet pulls his trembling form away from Mabel to stand up, wiping his wet face with his arm, his cheeks so flushed from sobbing that his faint freckles were easily seen against the red. He stood still for a moment, trying to calm his breathing before he stepped between the sitting pair of twins and towards his kneeling brother.

He took in the sight of him for a moment, a sick feeling in his stomach as his trembling hands tentatively grab onto the glasses on his unconscious brother’s face, his touch light as a feather and careful, as if he was afraid his brother would shatter if his finger even as so much grazed him. He carefully pulled the glasses off and stared down at them in his hands, a fresh wave of silent tears falling from his cheeks and onto the cracked glass lenses.

“I-I’m… I’m n-not…” He shakily whispers, voice caught in his throat as he tries to get the words out. He gingerly lifted the glasses to his face and placed them onto his red nose, his fingers gripping the temples of the glasses as he hesitantly turned around. His wet brown eyes locked with his kneeling great-uncle and great-aunt, the kid’s gaze drowning in guilt as Stanford hesitantly continued on with his wobbling voice, “…I-I’m not S-Stanley.”

The two froze at those words, Mabel's bewildered gaze kept whipping her gaze between Stanford and Stanley, quickly growing distressed while Dipper felt a deep pit form in his stomach.

He’s so stupid, it should’ve been obvious but in all the chaos he didn’t even think to check. In the moment of peace he finally saw the differences.

The six fingers and the way his eyes squinted without his glasses should’ve been a dead giveaway, but there were also other signs as well.

Stanley had told Dipper not too long ago that his tooth was knocked out the second day the twins showed up. Apparently it was knocked loose when he fell face first into the dirt while fleeing with Stanford from a vampire, after his brother had hid the 3rd journal away from Stanley all day, taking ‘Trust No One’ Dipper had scrambled onto that in a paranoid panic to heart.

Stanford just lost his tooth not even 30 minutes ago. When the boys had begun to argue on the Zodiac Wheel Stanley couldn’t take it anymore and decked Stanford to the ground. Dipper remembers the immediate regret that flashed onto the young boy’s face when his brother spat out a bloody tooth onto the floor, opening his mouth to try and apologize but was unable to get a word out before Stanford quickly punched him back, causing the infamous fight between the two.

Stanford still had some speckles of dried blood on his chin, a reminder of that awful fight.

The two had faint freckles dusting their face but Stanley was the only one who had freckles on his shoulders.

The bandaid on Stanford’s face was falling off, as if it was peeled off and slapped onto his face.

Mabel let out a weak and breathless noise of confusion, brows furrowed and clearly overwhelmed by everything happening in such a short time. “W-Wha-? How-?”

Dipper cut his sister off. She was barely keeping it together as is, and while he was also extremely upset he had a lot of practice suppressing these kinds of emotions to survive in the multiverse. He can take over for a moment just so Mabel can take a moment to breathe.

“Stanford… what happened?” Dipper questioned, a comforting hand on his twin’s shoulder as his furrowed gaze met Stanley’s. Despite how intense he looked, there was a softness in his voice. A quiet plea for his great-nephew to tell him what the hell is going on.

Stanford’s watery eyes stayed locked with the ground, looking almost as overwhelmed and weary as Mabel did while his hands fidgeted against his stomach. “W-When you two started getting c-chased Bill I…” His breathing hitched. “…I didn’t know what to d-do, I was just so s-scared.”

One of his finger’s lifted to his lip as he unconsciously began to chew the skin off the side of it, a habit Mabel has been fighting tooth and nail for Ford to quit through the entire Summer.

Not that she can really bring herself to care at the moment.

Stanford looked increasingly distressed as he continued. “I-I was panicking, I always know w-what to do and I just I couldn’t t-think of anything! I thought my h-head was going to explode when-” He takes in a sharp breath, more tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “…w-when Stanley said he had a plan.”

Stanford was trying to wipe away the thick tears off his face, his cheeks irritated and red from how often he's been rubbing away tears. “E-Everything went so fast. He was explaining the p-plan as fast as he could while we swapped clothes. Said we were going to p-pull off our best con yet. Tricking Bill into S-Stan’s mind by convincing him it was m-mine and then erasing him for g-good.”

“I t-tried to ask why we were d-doing all of this… Stanley could've just erased my mind after I let B-Bill in and e-everything would just end, but Stanley… S-Stanley didn’t budge. He s-said it had to be him. Said I… S-Said I actually had a future.” Ford breathing hiccups, shoulders hiking up to his neck as even more even more tears run down his cheeks and to the grass below. “A-A-And I was j-just so scared I… I let him… I let h-him take my place…”

A choked sob rips from his throat, unable to take it anymore as he covers his face with his polydactyl hands, continuing to explain through the tears and shaky speech. “O-One of the last things I ever d-did was punch h-him in the face! I never t-told him I was s-sorry! He DIED thinking I h-hated him!”

Dipper immediately jumped into action, pushing himself over to Ford and pulling his hands away from his face. He rested his forehead against his great-nephew’s and held onto his smaller hands, keeping his eyes on Stanford’s as he firmly spoke. “Breathe with me Stanford. In and out.”

It took a moment but the kid’s breathing slowed ever so slightly as he tried to mimic Dipper’s breaths though he was still unable to control the hiccuping and sniffling.

“You didn’t kill Stanley.” Dipper continued to speak, his tone softening considerably as he gently squeezed Ford’s polydactyl hand with his larger one. “He’s alive and breathing right behind you.”

The kid began to look frustrated as he lowly choked out, “He might as well be.”

Dipper… couldn’t exactly retort that. By all means Stanley would be a shell of his former self, fundamentally a completely different person when he wakes up. However, he wasn’t going to let his great-nephew wallow like this. He gently squeezed his hands once more and softly questioned, “…Do you really think Stanley would hate you after all of this?”

Stanford froze at the question, only the sound of rustling leaves and birds chirping to be heard as the brunet boy’s eyes stayed locked with Dipper’s before letting it fall to the dirt below. After a couple quiet moments Stanford finally mumbled out. “He should.”

“But would he?”

“….” Ford couldn’t reply, a bittersweet and melancholic feeling flooding his heart.

As if on cue, a faint noise was suddenly made behind the three of them.

Everyone whirled their heads over to where Stanley sat kneeling on the grass. His brown eyes blearily began to open as he raised his hand up to idly rub them. The faint freckles on his cheeks and his brown curls were dusted in the warm light of the sun. A yawn fell from his lips, tiny tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the deep breath, before he finally opened his eyes completely.

His brown eyes blinked away sleep, his gaze slowly darting between the three people also kneeling on the grass in front of him, not saying a word yet, just taking them in.

Dipper and Ford waited with baited breath, words stuck in their throats as they stared back at Stan, trying to find any familiarity in his eyes.

Mabel couldn’t wait a single second longer.

“…S-Stanley? Lee?” She softly questioned, tears beginning to well up in her eyes again as she gingerly crawled closer to him. “H-Hey my little firecracker! You r-remember me right? Your lovable Grunkle Mabel!” Her hands raise up to cup Stanley’s round cheeks, her smile a little wobbly but her brown eyes filled with a ray of hope. “You remember me, d-don’t you pumpkin?”

Stanley just stared blankly at his great-aunt, completely silent for a moment before his brows furrow. He tilts his head, confusion clearly seen in his blank eyes as he bluntly asks, “Who are you?”

Mabel’s heart might as well have shattered into a million pieces. The tears welling up in her eyes freely fall but the wobbly smile refuses to fall. One hand raises to run through his messy curls as the other continues to cup his face. “W-What are you talking about sweetheart? It’s me, Stanley, It’s Mabel.”

Dipper sprung forward and gently began to pull Mabel away from Stanley, that pit in his stomach growing even more as his sister tried to weakly yank herself out of his grasp while crying out, “It’s me, Stanley! It’s me!” He squeezed her in his arms as her cries turned to sobs, burying her face against Dipper’s chest as she finally let out all the pain she’s been keeping in her chest since the moment Weirdmageddon had begun.

“It’s no use Mabel, Stanley doesn’t remember anything.” Dipper softly spoke. He hugged her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, her silver curls brushing against his skin as his brown eyes locked with Stanley. The kid looked so confused and lost, a sight that just made his heart ache even more. “…Stanley doesn’t even realize it, but he just saved the world… Saved us… Our little hero…”

Stanley brows were furrowed, not understanding anything that was going on in the slightest. He glanced over at where Stanford was standing, lifting up his hand to cup his mouth and loudly stage whisper to the brunet, “What’s up with the old guys?”

Stanford didn’t answer, just staring at Stanley with large globs of tears dripping down his cheeks. Without warning he sprinted to his brother, engulfing Stanley in a tight hug and hiding his face in his neck. The impact of the tackle hug almost knocked the two to the floor but Stanley managed to keep himself propped up with one arm, brown eyes wide with shock as even more confusion filled his fuzzy mind. “W-Woah, okay-! We’re hugging now, I guess!”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry-” Stanford kept repeating those words over and over against his brother’s neck, his body trembling from just how hard he was crying.

Stanley had no clue what the hell was happening. He was in a place he’s never seen before, surrounded by strangers sobbing their eyes out, and he was realizing that he couldn’t really remember what his name was again. A part of him was telling him he should just book it, get away from these weirdos, but something in him refused to let him.

Maybe it was because they all genuinely looked so sad. He didn’t know who they were but his heart sorta ached at their grief-stricken appearances, kind of wanting to comfort them in some way.

Maybe he’s a bleeding heart, he can’t really remember if he is.

Stanley shuffled a little in Stanford’s tight grasp until finally something kinda heavy was laid onto the sobbing child’s shoulders. Stanford tentatively lifted his wet face from his brother’s neck to peer behind him.

It was his leather bomber jacket. Stanley had subtlety slipped off the jacket, careful not to jostle the crying kid too much, then plopped it onto his shoulders.

“You looked like you needed it more than me.” Stanley spoke, an awkward but kind smile on his face. He then quickly shrugged it off and added on with a casual tone, “Besides, I was gettin’ warm in that thing, you can just keep it.”

Stanford sharply inhaled at those words, polydactyl hands letting go of Stanley to grip at the jacket draped over his shoulders and pull it even closer, acting as if it was a barrier that could protect him from the world around him. A choking sob ripped from Stanford’s throat, hiding his face against his brother’s neck once again.

“Okay! We’re still crying!” Stanley awkwardly sputtered out, tensing up as the brunet continued to cry against his neck, unsure of what he should be doing. Eventually he settled on tentatively patting the crying kid’s back, hoping that he was actually comforting the kid and not making whatever was happening worse.

“I s-shouldn’t have pushed you a-away because I was t-told to! You w-were never a burden! I-I don’t hate you! I n-never did!” Stanford kept crying apologizes against Stanley’s shoulder, making the already confused brunet boy even more lost with every word spoken. His hand continued to pat on Ford’s back as he softly replied, his words tentative and unsure, “…I don’t hate you either.”

“Yes you do.” Stanford thickly replied against his brother's shoulder, completely and utterly convinced in his distraught state that his brother would absolutely hate him if he could remember what Ford did to him.

Stanley couldn’t exactly reply to that because he genuinely didn’t know if he did hate this kid. He didn’t even know who he was. So instead of responding he just continued to rub the brunet’s back, hoping to ease the hyperventilation sobs buried against his skin.

It took a handful of long moments filled with silence and tears for the three to compose themselves, Dipper being the first to finally stand up.

“…We’ve been wallowing here long enough, people are going to get worried.”

Dipper gingerly pulls Mabel to her feet, tears had stopped falling from her face but her cheeks red and her famous smile no longer present. He made sure his sister was steady on her feet before holding out his hand to the twin boys huddled together on the ground, a small weary smile on his wrinkled face.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

The twins pull themselves up with Dipper’s help. Once on their feet Ford latches onto Stan’s arm, sticking to his side and refusing to let go. Stanley doesn’t seem to mind or even notice the clinging presence as his brown eyes look up at the sky and over the tall trees with curious wonder.

Dipper softly sighed and eyed over the fascinated brunet looking over the tree line with concern, “Are your muscles alright, Stanley? No issues with walking or standing?”

The kid didn’t respond for a moment, still looking around before he finally registered that he was being spoken to. His brown eyes darted around before he pointed at himself with his free hand. “Oh! Am I Stanley?”

Dipper felt a stab in his chest at the question, but still gently replied, “Yeah… you’re Stanley.”

Stanley nodded at the confirmation and softly said ‘Staaaanley’ under his breath, getting accustomed to the unfamiliar name.

“Stanley… cool name! I like it!” He cheerfully replied, a wide smile spreading across his face that showed off his missing tooth. “And my legs are fine, I think.” He used his free hand to grab onto Dipper’s hand and loudly added on, “Now lead the way, old man!”

Dipper sighed and squeezed onto Stanley’s hand, gently guiding him through the woods back to the Shack, never forgetting the route home even after all these years.

The twins were parallels of each other as they walked. Mabel was clinging onto her brother’s arm and leaning her head against his shoulder while Stanford was doing the same with his brother. The air was so tense and gloomy around the four, affecting all but Stanley.

Stanley was looking around the woods as they walked, his brown eyes full of innocent wonder as he mumbled under his breath about ‘Never seeing trees this big’.

When they made it back to the Shack Dipper could only wince at the state it was in. It was falling apart and damaged from the battle during Weirdmageddon, the damage unable to be reversed even after the apocalypse had ended.

“The Shack…” Mabel sadly lamented under her breath, the sight of the place she spent 30 years making into a home and business just adding onto her already overwhelming amount of sadness.

Dipper was about to try and comfort her when he noticed 3 figures standing in front of the shack. After a moment the three started to sprint towards the family, frames becoming clearer as they got closer.

It was Anjelita, Boyish Dan, and Fiddleford.

“Are you guys alright?!” Boyish Dan loudly asked with his booming voice before he even reached the family. Anjelita was silently but swiftly following behind him, her hand gripping her Abuelo’s cap so it wouldn't fly off her head and her eyes filled with concern. Fiddleford was tripping over his feet from how fast he was sprinting, Dipper was mildly concerned the accident prone teen was going to trip over a branch or rock and slam face first against the ground.

He didn’t trip, thankfully. The small blond teen stumbled to a stop in front of the family, specifically the younger set of twins, panting heavily. “Thank the lord y’all are alright! I thought y'all had gotten trapped under somethin’ or hurt or worse!” Fiddleford anxiously rambled on, clearly having thrown himself into a tizzy over his friend's safety.

Stanley’s brows furrowed at the new faces, especially the long nosed southern one right in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and looked over the blond with an untrusting gaze. “…You’re not going to hug me and cry too, are you?”

Fiddleford looked bewildered at the question, blinking in confusion as he asked, “Now why on’ earth would I do that?”

Before Stanley or someone else in the family could reply, Anjelita spoke up from beside Boyish Dan. “His memory was erased, correct?”

The family, minus Stanley, flinched at the question.

Anjelita was a very observant young lady, so it makes sense she would be the first to notice.

Fiddleford and Boyish Dan kinda tensed up at the question. They also saw what happened while they were trapped in the tapestries, but they had hoped that maybe…

“That really stuck? He doesn’t remember anything?” Boyish Dan questioned.

“Nothin’ at all?” Fiddleford softly added.

Dipper wordless shook his head and a solemn silence covered them all.

The three followed the family into the dilapidated Mystery Shack, everyone looking over the cracks and debris with melancholy and sadness on their faces. Well, all but Stanley.

Stanley excitedly jumped up as they all entered the run down living room. “Wow, nice place you have here!” The brunet ripped away from Stanford and Dipper’s grasp, the suddenness making Stanford weakly try and latch back onto his brother for just a moment before giving up and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The boy then ran full speed at the dusty recliner. Stan always loved that chair would steal it from Mabel whenever he had a chance.

He jumped onto the seat and laughed as he bounced a little before settling down. “Lovin’ this chair! I just sink into this thing!”

He opened his brown eyes and saw everyone standing at the edges of the room, the miserable air of sadness weighing so heavy on the room he could feel it pressing against his skull. Stanley limply leaned back in the chair, a faint look of annoyance on his face as he bluntly questioned, “Geez, am I at a funeral? Who died and turned you all into sad sacks.”

No one answered.

Fiddleford turned to the group, going to lift his finger to bite on it only to stop himself when he realized he was doing it. Instead the blond lifted up his chewlery necklace and began to bite on it instead, his nerves shot as he desperately asked, “Surely there must be ah’ way to reverse this!”

“No, there isn’t.” Stanford replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor, looking extremely tired and downright miserable as he hugged his jacket closer.

Fiddleford whips around to Stanford, exasperation and agitation clear on his face as he yells back, “There's gotta’ be!”

Dipper softly sighed, defeat dripping from his voice as he gently replied. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford. There isn’t anything we can do for Stanley. No one can come back from something like this.”

Anjelita perks up from the besides Boyish Dan, counteracting Dipper’s statement with a simple, “Miss Candy.”

“W-What?” Dipper questioned, blinking up at her in confusion.

The large red-headed teen jolted and jumped up at the reminder.

“That’s right! Kooky Candy got her memories back during that whole weird secret society adventure!”

Fiddleford looked up at Dipper with hope and desperation in his green eyes, hands trembling from the reminder of that awful day and his shot nerves. “Y-Yeah! An’ Miss Candy’s mind was cracked ‘cause of tha’ memory gun!”

The blond points to Stanley sitting on the recliner, the confused brunet just staring at the group with furrowed brows, not taking in anything that they’re saying. “Lee still gotta’ chance!”

Dipper is quiet for a moment, brain running a mile a minute. When he finally speaks up again his voice is low and unsure.

“… I’m not going to say it's going to work,”

His eyes meet his sister’s, her sad brown eyes filled with a glimmer of hope at the thought of being able to save her little firecracker.

“But I’m not going to say it’s impossible either.”

He racked his brain once more, trying to think of a solution, an answer that has a high probability of working.

“…Maybe if we had something that could jog his memory-”

Mabel suddenly gasped, eyes wide as she squeezes Dipper’s arm, her grip tight. “My scrapbook!”

She then quickly rushes to a desk near the table, glitter and shimmering pieces of paper fluttering out as her hands rummaged in one of the drawers. She let out a loud ‘Aha!’ And pulled out a pink and very sparkly scrapbook.

“It’s not going to work.” Stanford bluntly mumbled, defeat and sorrow clinging to his small frames.

“Not with that attitude!” The old woman quickly shoots back, not letting anything snuff out her freshly burning glimmer of hope in her chest.

She quickly ran back over to Stanley, the rest of the group, minus Stanford, following suit. She placed the glimmering book onto the confused child’s lap, the front labeled ‘Summer of 2012’ in sparkly glitter pen.

“I’ve been working on this book since the day you two arrived!” Mabel offhandedly explained while opening it to the first page. Pasted in the middle of that page was a cute photo of Stanley and Stanford unpacking their bags. Stan was making a silly face at the camera while Ford had not realized the photo was being taken, too busy hanging up his Nikola Tesla poster with a concentrated face. Stickers and other miscellaneous crafting objects were glued to the page. “Here’s the first day you two arrived!” She then pointed at about 4 to 6 small pieces of wood taped to the page. “And those are the splinters you got stuck in your hand when trying to unpack!”

Stanley furrowed his brow at that, very confused on why she would keep something like that but not having a chance to ask before she pointed to the next thing.

The next photo on the page was Stanford and Stanley looking a tiny bit scratched up and tired. Ford was looking away from the camera and into the inner pocket of his jacket, excitement shining in his eyes as he stared at the journal he had found in the woods that day that was poking out of his jacket ever so slightly. Stanley was also excited but for a very different reason. His eyes were wide with excitement, his equally wide smile showing off the space in his teeth where his tooth was knocked out. The missing tooth was being held very close to the camera, still covered in small flecks of blood.

“And here’s you losing your tooth the very next day!”

Next to the photo was also a small tooth taped onto the paper, assumedly Stanley’s baby tooth that was knocked out. He especially wanted to ask why she had scrapbooked that but was once again cut off, no one except him finding this old woman strange in the slightest.

Fiddleford had leaned over and flipped the page. On the page was a photo of Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford all huddled together on one of the boy’s beds, all of them wearing pajamas. Stanford and Stanley seemed to both be talking at the same time, talking over each other while Fiddleford looked a little nervous and overwhelmed, but a smile very clearly seen on his face as he was squished between the twins.

“Tha’s the first time I spent tha’ night after we ‘came friends! After I, uh, ya’ know, tried to kill ya’ with a giant robit-”

Boyish Dan pointed at the next page. The twins were wearing 70s themed dancing clothes, disco lights shining on the two as they stood alone on a dance floor. The boys were covered in punch but still smiling while sideways hugging. Stanford in particular looked a little tired and had a bruise or two.

“Your guy’s 13th birthday party? A bunch of power hungry Ford clones causing so much trouble we pulled the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers?

He then pointed at two carnival tickets taped onto the page next to a photo of Boyish Dan’s grappling both of the twins under his arms and lifting them high into the air, standing in front of a carnival as the warm afternoon light washed over them. Dan was laughing maniacally while Ford looked shocked, grabbing onto Dan’s large arm looking at the ground nervously, as if he was afraid of being dropped. Stanley also looked shocked but not in the same way Stanford did. Stan’s face was bright red and he looked like he was trying to laugh off being picked up so suddenly.

“How about the carnival? You tried that ‘test your strength’ game while Ford did that ‘guess how many jellybeans are in this jar’ game and both failed at them?”

Anjelita softly spoke up next to Boyish Dan as he turned the page. A picture of Stanley all dressed up was pasted onto the page. He was wearing a black suit, a red fez with the same symbol that’s on his sweater Mabel made him, an eye patch, and an 8-Ball cane. He had his eye patch flipped up and was winking at the camera, fully showing off his showman persona. Next to that photo was another one, this time depicting Stanley and Stanford sitting in a booth with Anjelita and her grandparents. Stanley and Anjelita’s Abuelo, Soos, were scarfing down a pizza slice as fast as they could, assumedly in a race to see who could eat it faster. Stanford was looking at his brother with mild disgust and concern while Anjelita’s Abuela, Melody, was excitedly cheering on her husband. Anjelita was sitting at the table leaning her chin on her hand, a soft amused smile on her lips.

“The time you were the boss of the Mystery Shack for a day? The arcade with the killer robots?”

Dipper had his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, carefully questioning, “Is any of this ringing a bell? Anything at all?”

Everyone, minus Stanford, were crowding Stanley, all in his personal space and making the dazed child even more confused. On edge and gripping the scrapbook tightly, furrowed brown eyes completely void of familiarity as he looked over the group.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stanley began, quickly looking down as he slammed the scrapbook closed. “But none of this is making any sense to me! You keep talking to me like I know who you are, but I don’t!”

The hope in the group died at Stanley’s outburst, all of their enthusiasm fading and disappearing entirely in record time.

“Told you.” Stanford softly mumbled from the other side of the room, despondent and hugging himself tight while leaning against the wall, utter exhaustion seeping into his bones.

Stanley shifted uncomfortably in the recliner, that bubbling sense of guilt building in his stomach and his chest once again at the sight. He doesn’t even know these people but he doesn’t want to see them upset. Guess he really is a bleeding heart. He’s learning something new about himself every second.

The brunet sighed, idly rubbing his round cheeks as he quietly added on, his voice much softer than before, “Look… I’m sorry I don’t remember… I really am…”

“It’s alright Stanley, it’s not your fault.” Dipper gently replied, unaware of the way Stanford flinched at those words behind him.

There was a depressing and strained silence hanging over the group afterwards, no one really knowing what else to say after their hopeful attempt was proven to be pointless.

Then all of a sudden hot air and a snorting noise tickled Stanley’s left ear.

The kid whirled his head at the noise only to come face to face with a big old pig with a collar around its neck, along with a name tag that Stanley couldn’t read from where he was sitting. The two just stare at each other for a couple seconds, blank stare to blank stare, until it was finally broken by the pig hopping up and getting closer to Stanley, trying to chew on his brown curls.

Stanley squealed with surprise and tried to push the massive pig away, Mabel weakly laughing on her knees at the antics, her mind flashing to all the times Waddles has lovingly bothered her great-nephew the entire time he’s been here. She was about to tell her beloved pet to stop messing with Stanley when the kid beat her to the punch.

“Augh! Waddles! How many times have I told you to stop trying to eat my hair!”

Everyone froze, even Stanford’s head whirled over at Stanley’s words.

“…What did he say?” Ford asked, his voice laced in disbelief.

Stanford initially didn’t want to think there was a chance for Stanley to remember, figuring that this was going to be his punishment. Forever mourning someone who’s not even dead, someone he all but killed. But when Stanley spoke Waddles name, something he shouldn’t remember, felt that little ball of hope he’s been trying so hard to suppress in his chest reemerge.

Now Waddles was trying to lick Stanley’s cheek, making the boy squeal even more.

“I said get Waddles off me, Sixer!”

A small breathless laugh left Dipper’s throat as ran his hands through his silver curls, a hopeful disbelief in his eyes. “…It’s working.”

Stanford suddenly sprinted up to the group, grabbing onto his Great-Aunt’s arm from where she’s kneeling in front of Stanley and holding her scrapbook. “Keep reading, Grauntie Mabel.” His gaze serious, but his voice a soft plea.

Mabel had to quickly blink a couple times and bring herself back to reality, adrenaline beginning to pump in her veins at the prospect that this was working. She jumped to her feet, not even wavering as her knees creaked at the sudden movement, and called out to everyone in the room, “Story time!”

She grabbed onto Stanley, that classic Mabel smile was back on her face as she easily lifted him up and sat down where he was sitting on the recliner, pulling the frazzled boy onto her lap. She reached out and yanked Dipper to her as well, making him sit right next to her on the recliner. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but thankfully the two twins had always been on the lankier side so they made it work.

Dipper held his hand out to Stanford, helping him up and pulling him onto his lap, paralleling his sister next to him. Stanford’s immediately pressed against Stanley’s side, polydactyl hand instinctively slipping into his and squeezing like his life depended on it.

Boyish Dan and Anjelita leaned more on the farther back sides of the recliner while Fiddleford jumped up and sat on the armrest closest to Mabel, the blond pressing himself against Stanley’s other side.

Stanley was now completely surrounded once again, being hugged and squeezed and picked up by these strangers. However this time he didn’t get annoyed or uncomfortable at the attention. Instead there was this familiar warmth in his chest, like he was always meant to be held like this. He can’t really describe what caused that shift.

Maybe these guys are right, maybe he is remembering.

Stan allows himself to relax in the arms of the older woman and against the two kids pressing against either side of him, a small smile growing on his face.

“Okay okay,” Mabel began, flipping back to the first page of the scrapbook. “It all started when I got a call from my dearest older brother asking me to watch my sweet darling great-nephews for the summer, and how could I say no to having my precious little nephews all to myself for 3 months!”

Mabel began to go over every picture and every memento in the scrapbook, everyone else pitching in and adding their own commentary or laughing every once and a while, a smile on everyone’s face.

Except for Stanford.

Stanford was looking intensely at his twin, waiting anxiously for the moment Stanley finally remembered him.

A part of him was excited, the other was dreading it.

The moment his brother remembers what happened, what Ford did to him, their bond is going to completely shatter and Stanley is going to want nothing to do with him anymore. No more late night talks, no more covering for each other, no more getting into trouble. Stanford wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley wanted to cut him out of his life completely after this after what he did. Stanford wouldn’t even blame him. He deserves it after all.

Then he saw it and his heart stopped in his chest.

Stanley rapidly blinked for a second, a familiar shine in his brown eyes as he turned to look at Stanford, recognition and understanding in his stare for the first time since the end of Weirdmageddon.

The two stared silently as Mabel continued to talk, everyone’s words muffling into background noise.

Stanford wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness. His eyes weren’t filled with sorrow or guilt. They were steady, completely prepared for anything Stanley threw at him, knowing whatever it was he deserved it.

Stanley’s eyes were filled with that familiar shine but no emotion showed on his face as his stare bore into his twin, completely silent as the two eyes stayed locked.

Then Stanley did something Stanford wasn’t expecting. His brown eyes softened, a smile on his face as he got closer and leaned his head onto Stanford’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing over his twin’s polydactyl knuckles the same way their mother would do whenever she tried to calm them down when they were much smaller.

Stanford was tense, completely frozen. He was expecting yelling, punching, blaming, or even something as simple as wordlessly pulling his hand away, but he wasn’t expecting forgiveness.

He didn't deserve this. Stanley should hate his guts. Despise him and push him away just like Stanford was doing most of the summer.

Ford’s body didn’t untense, but he did slowly rest his head on top of Stan’s, squeezing his brother's hand as if it was his life line, his thoughts swirling in his mind like a hurricane.

He didn’t deserve Stanley’s forgiveness.

Or was it pity?

It must be pity.

It has to be.

Mabel was still speaking as she leaned down and rested her chin onto Stanley, Dipper doing the same with Stanford. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped everyone in the room. Everyone but Stanford, who instead felt a sickening feeling of guilt deep in his chest.

Stanford didn’t deserve this. This kindness.

So he swore right then and there that he was going to spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did, staying by his twin’s side to make sure nothing would never, ever, hurt his brother ever again.

Or until the day Stanley wises up and realizes that Stanford wasn’t worth his pity, that he’s too good to have a coward like him for a brother.

Whatever came first.

🌻🌱🌤️~~~~~~~~~~~~🌦️🛡️🥀

Hope you liked it!! It was fun to write when my thumbs weren’t hurting from typing on my phone for 6 hours straight lmao 💥💥💥

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 day ago

Text

For the first time in years, Ser Criston Cole is not guarding his Queen. Alicent has sent him on a covert mission to retrieve her wayward daughter, who has fled from the prospect of marrying her twin brother. It was supposed to be simple, but he quickly finds that the girl he thought to be so like her elder half-sister is in fact quite different.

Author's Note: We are absolutely, uneqivicolly, without a doubt not mentioning that this was planned to be a part of my 2023 12 Days of Smuff. The muses are fickle bitches and I'm a natural procrastinator, what can I say? It's also late for the second writing event it's a part of so maybe just start expecting it at this point.

Pairing: Ser Criston Cole x Aegon's Twin!Reader (3rd person)

Warnings: accidental stimulation

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

This work is also part of the @hotd-bigbang House of the Dragon Ships Month for Trope Week!

My Masterlist

Ser Criston Cole held his charge close against his chest as his horse slowed, knowing her legs were likely numb after riding for half the day. Queen Alicent would not be pleased if he let her eldest daughter topple into the mud. She would not be happy that he was taking her to this decrepit little town, either, but they were still more than a full day’s travel away from King’s Landing, and the princess needed rest.

Indeed, she groaned with relief as they approached the inn, with its ramshackle walls and crooked sign. “Thank the gods,” she mumbled. “I thought you were going to make me sleep on the horse. Or in the woods.”

He had considered it. They were more likely to be discovered in a town. But it would be far easier to protect her if she was within solid—or at least, mostly solid—walls. They would be out in the open in the woods, too exposed. He would not only be looking out for men who would harm her but the beasts of the forest as well. And if she were to somehow escape him, it would be far easier for her to hide in the forest. Far easier for her to get herself killed.

Yes, the town was better. Even if it was as seedy as Flea Bottom and as filthy as a stable. It certainly smelled like a stable.

Criston guided his horse to the side of the inn, dismounting and hitching it before he turned back to the princess. “Pull your hood tighter,” he instructed, “do not let it fall.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance, but she obeyed, pulling her hood tighter than was truly necessary, the same petulant show of dramatics Criston had come to expect of her and her twin brother. And her half-sister, he thought with a twinge.

The gods must be punishing him for that transgression for him to again be tasked with chaperoning a girl so like the one he had broken his oath for. It was well-deserved. But he was determined to bear it with as much dignity as he could muster. He stood at the horse’s side and raised his hands to the Princess’ waist.

“I can do it myself,” she snapped.

He knew she could not. Could see the tightening of her jaw as she tried to swing her leg over, only to find it would not move at all. On any other day, he would let her struggle until she wore herself out and asked for his help.

Today, however, he did not have the time. He needed to get her inside and safe as quickly as possible so they could set out all the earlier the following morning. So, he took hold of her, ignoring her yelps of protest and her fists pounding against his shoulders, and lifted her off the horse.

The moment she was on the ground, she wobbled dangerously, and the arms that had been attempting to push him away held tightly to him. He let her steady herself for a moment. “Are you able to walk?”

She glared at him but then looked down to frown at her legs. “I think so.”

“Hold to my arm and stay close.” Criston moved slowly as they rounded the corner of the building, allowing her to find her footing before they entered the inn.

The princess paused at the door, eyes narrowing as she took in the broken sign dangling from the wall. “I thought inns were supposed to be cozy.”

“Some are,” he answered, tugging at her arm to pull her forward, “not this one.”

“Can we not find one that is?”

With a sigh, he faced her, leaning down to meet her eye. “Do you wish to get back on the horse, princess?” She blanched and shook her head. “Then this is it.”

She clung to him as they entered the inn and paid the keeper a gold dragon for his best room, never allowing even a hair’s breadth between his arm and hers.

The inn’s ‘best room’ put half of Flea Bottom to shame.

The floor was crooked. The glass of the single window was spiderwebbed with a thousand tiny cracks. And the bed—the one, small bed—rested on wood blocks rather than proper legs. It was not a place where a princess should sleep. It was hardly a place where anyone should sleep. But it was already dark out, and he would not risk the princess just because he did not want to sleep in such a hovel.

“Do you need to visit the washbasin? Or the privy?” Criston asked the princess, not looking at her eyes. In his periphery, he saw her blush and shake her head. “Good. Get in bed.”

He released the princess’ arm and locked the door behind them, then shoved his dagger into the gap by the hinges as an extra precautionary measure.

When he turned back, he was surprised to see the princess had obeyed his order without protest. It was unlike her. Like her half-sister, she had always fought back against his every command. But not now. It was strange in a way he could neither understand nor explain, yet it made him want to smile.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked. He finally looked at her and found her visibly nervous—her eyes wide, darting about, and hands clutching tightly to the blanket. When he said nothing, she bit her lip and turned away.

She was afraid. Not of returning home and facing her mother or the brother she was to marry, but of the place they were in and what may happen to them. Though it was good to be afraid—it would make her more alert and aware—he could not help his desire to reassure her.

“I will sleep on the floor,” he said as he removed his cloak to bundle for his pillow. “Between you and the door.”

“Will it not be too uncomfortable?”

Criston shrugged. “I slept in more discomfort when I was a soldier.”

“But that was when you were young.”

He froze. “When I was ‘young?’ Are you suggesting that I am old?”

She blushed again, ducking her head to hide her slight smile. “I did not say that.”

Rhaenyra once smiled at him in the same way. Damn. The thought only served to make him angry, even if he knew it was not the princess’ fault that she resembled her half-sister in certain lights. He bunched up his cloak and threw it to the ground. “I am not old.”

“You were a man grown when I was born, were you not?”

She was turning it into a game, masking her own fear by taunting him. Criston knew it, and yet he took the bait. If it helped her to feel safe and sleep, he would play the fool. “I was.”

Her smile brightened. “And I am now a woman grown, about to be married. That makes you, my dear Ser Criston, old.” She was giddy and giggling as she lay on the bed and buried herself beneath the stack of threadbare quilts. “Now get in the bed. You are of no use as my protector if you are too stiff to raise your sword.”

His heart sank. Not for the commentary on his age—he would admit that her logic there was sound—but for the fact that to lay in bed with her was a dangerous thing. A temptation that echoed his lowest moment.

The gods were not punishing him. They were testing him.

Another Targaryen princess. Another innocent game. Another opportunity to break his oath and sully his honor.

“What would your future husband think?” Both a refusal and a reminder of why he had followed her halfway to Duskendale to bring her back to King’s Landing. And if she were trying to coax him, as Rhaenyra did, perhaps it would make her angry enough to abandon the effort.

As expected, her smile immediately fell, and the playfulness vanished from her eyes. “Aegon spends every night on the Street of Silk. What right has he to judge me for simply ensuring the comfort of my escort?”

Again, Criston could not fault her logic. Still, he had to argue, “He is to be your husband and king.”

“Of that, I am all too aware,” she whispered. But she did not snipe back at him. She did not smile, nor frown. All the fight seemed to leave her in a single moment, along with her energy. Sighing, she closed her eyes and turned to face the wall. “Get in the bed or do not. I no longer care.”

He did not quite know how to respond to that, to her seemingly… giving up. In all her life, he had never seen her do that. Rhaenyra certainly had never done so.

Then again, Rhaenyra was never forced to marry her fool of a twin brother.

When the betrothal had been announced, Criston had pitied her. At every event where she was forced to sit next to Aegon while he drank himself silly and groped at serving girls and ladies alike, he had pitied her. When he and Queen Alicent had happened upon her in the Grand Sept, where she begged the gods to deliver her from the marriage, he pitied her. Yet, when she fled, and the king commanded him to track her down and bring her home, he did not hesitate to obey.

For the first time since he found her trying to trade one of her earrings for a new pair of shoes in the common room of the Old Stone Bridge, he felt guilty for what he was doing.

No matter how much he pitied her and wished he could aid her in some other way, he served the king, and the king had commanded him to bring the princess home. He could not disobey, but he could give her this one small concession.

So, Criston laid on the bed beside her, atop the blankets despite the cold, and as far away as he could manage without falling off the edge. He would not be able to sleep like this, but at least the princess could.

After a while, he was sure she had fallen asleep. Until she grumbled, “You are cold, Ser Criston.”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, princess.”

She huffed. “I truly am not allowed to be concerned for you?”

“No, you are not.”

Once again, she fell silent.

Then, just when Criston thought she might have fallen asleep again, “Am I allowed to complain that your shivering is keeping me awake?”

Damn the girl.

Criston rearranged himself under the blankets and turned away from the princess. If she were Rhaenyra, she would likely ask that he hold her to keep her warm.

But she was not Rhaenyra, and soon, her breathing softened and steadied.

With that settled, Criston closed his eyes, even if he would not fall asleep.

Criston fell asleep.

He must have, for he found himself startling awake with a soft moan and the mortifying realization that his cock was hard.

Gods, he would never forgive himself for this. He was sharing a bed with the young princess, and he was hard. No better than a young boy after catching his first glimpse of a woman’s bare leg if he reacted like this, even with the space between them. Except…

There was no space between them.

Not anymore. The princess now lay flush against him, her back pressed to his chest, her head resting on one of his arms while her waist was safely cradled in the other, and her… rear pressed against his traitorous, treasonous, troublesome cock.

The gods truly, deeply hated him, for she was dreaming. Actively.

Every movement brought a light, teasing, agonizingly wonderful pressure. It took every bit of his will not to follow her rhythm, to not press back against her. Instinct warred with oath, and Criston was caught in the crossfire with no escape.

He could not disentangle himself from her without waking her. If she woke, she would feel him against her. Perhaps with her younger sister, he could be confident that she would not realize what it meant, but with a twin such as Aegon, he had no doubt she would know.

But if he did not, if he allowed her to continue her movements, he would soon find himself in an even more embarrassing situation that he would not be able to conceal when she woke in the morning.

That was the decision made.

Slowly removing his hand from around her waist, Criston pulled his hips as far away as he could. Only when he felt there was no chance of her feeling his predicament did he press against her shoulder and whisper, “Princess, wake up.”

He should have gotten out of the bed.

The Princess startled, spinning around to face him, draping an arm around his neck and pulling him close. She moved so fast that he could do nothing to stop her legs from entangling with his, her thigh pressing between his legs and forcing a gasping groan from him.

Her eyes grew wide as she felt his hardness against her, but when she again faced him, they changed. The violet of her eyes faded, overtaken by growing blackness, her eyelids heavy with sleep and something that heated Criston’s blood when it should chill it. Yet even as those eyes fell to his mouth, they held no trace of the mischief he had seen the last time he was so close to a Targaryen princess.

She wanted him but made no move to take him.

It only made him want to kiss her more.

But he could not do that. The gods had given him this chance at redemption and he refused to fail again.

Criston shoved the princess away and rolled out of the bed, crossing the room in two strides to rest his forehead against the rough wood of the door, willing his heart, his blood, and his cock to calm.

Voices, laughter, and music from a very poorly tuned fiddle still bled through the gaps in the doorframe. But no light came through the window, not even from the slight sliver of the moon that had begun to rise when they arrived. Night, but perhaps still early within it? The hour of the eel?

Whatever it was, it meant it would be some time yet before he could resume taking the princess back to King’s Landing.

“Did I…” Her voice trembled slightly. Was she simply cold? Or was she hurt by him pushing her away? “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he had to take a moment to catch his breath. Perhaps he was getting old. “No. I have done you wrong, princess. I am deeply sorry.”

When they returned to the Red Keep, he would confess his sins to both the gods and his queen. She had mercy on him all those years ago, she could forgive him again, absolve him of his repeated shame.

But this was not Rhaenyra, her erstwhile friend turned stepdaughter and rival. This was her daughter, her second-born child. When she and Aegon were born, Criston had held them before their father did. He had played with them, taught them. Tried to guide them as best he could so they would not feel the absence of their father.

And now, he had come so close to defiling her.

No, his queen would not forgive him for this. He would not forgive himself.

“There is nothing to apologize for, Ser Criston.”

He turned to look at her in bewilderment. ‘Nothing to apologize for?’ According to law, he should be gelded or killed. Two times over. “Yes, there is, my princess. I have dishonored you, myself, and my oath.”

She stood, the blanket draped over her shoulders like a cloak. “No, there is not.”

“Princess – ”

“No, it was my fault!” Her uncharacteristic anger – petulance was more characteristic of her than true anger – was enough to stun him into silence. He only hoped none in the common room heard the slight outburst. But there was no pause in the din nor the truly awful fiddling. “I am the one who tried… I wanted to kiss you, but I should not have done that. I just thought…”

Even knowing that she wanted him, hearing her say it sent a strange feeling of warmth through Criston’s body. “What did you think, princess?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked steadfastly at her feet. “I thought you might want to kiss me, too.”

Gods forgive him. He had wanted to kiss her and still wanted to. But he could not tell her that for his own sake and hers. “What we want is not always possible,” he said. It felt cruel to tell her, even though she must know. It felt like crushing the hopes of the little girl he had known for so long as if it were nothing more than the hollow shell of an egg. “I have sworn an oath that forbids me from… such things. And you are to be married.”

Her face hardened, and for a moment, Criston could see the fierceness of a Targaryen queen in her eyes as she spat, “That didn’t stop you with Rhaenyra.”

His heart turned to lead, its weight enough to pull him through the floor and the earth itself. “Whatever you heard –”

“Rhaenyra told me herself.” She sank back onto the bed, her body drawing in on herself as if she were being scolded rather than exposing the truth of his sins. “Back when she still talked to us. I believe she thought I was too young to understand or remember what she said. She did that a lot, actually.”

Her eyes grew distant, lost in the memory of a sister who was her sister no more, but her enemy. Indeed, her small, sweet smile quickly gave way to a pained grimace. “I do not remember everything she told me, but I remember that. It was a while before I truly understood it, but I remembered. I think… because it was about you.”

“I wish you did not,” he said. “Remember. It is a shame I have long sought to forget myself.”

Silence fell over them like heavy rain, interrupted only by the occasional shouting from the common room. Criston thanked the gods many times over when he was finally able to rid himself of his lust. It was, perhaps, not entirely vanished, but enough so his body finally calmed.

Pity and guilt washed in to replace it. Pity for the poor girl he cared so deeply for who wanted only the one thing he could not – would not – give. Guilt for nevertheless wanting to give it, guilt for the hapless life he was delivering her to, and guilt for the fact that it was his wrongdoings that had led her here.

“Did you love her?”

The answer came easily, instinctually. “No.”

He had never admitted to loving Rhaenyra, but he had never denied it. After all, if he had loved her, was the sin not lessened? Love was the greatest virtue of the gods, so even if it could not erase the stain on his honor and soul, could it not at least redeem him from damnation?

But he did not love Rhaenyra.

“It was not love,” he declared to himself, the princess, and the gods. “I once believed it was, but in truth, it was no more than a foolish infatuation.”

That was what he was – a fool. On that night and now.

The princess’ voice was so soft Criston nearly could hardly hear it over the murmurings of the busy inn. “I do not love Aegon.”

He knew. Still, “I am sorry, princess.”

“I do not want to marry someone I do not love.” She picked absentmindedly at the skin around her nails. “And I do not want to be queen.”

But she must. It was her duty, and that was not something anyone could escape – not even a Targaryen. Criston certainly had not been able to. Yet he could not bring himself to say so. Instead, he asked, “What do you want?”

“What I want – what I was going to do before you found me,” she gave a humorless laugh. “I was going to find a ship to take me across the Narrow Sea to Lys. My great aunt Saera said she would take me in while I figured out what to do after that.”

Criston’s eyes widened at the name. “Princess Saera? The Old King’s daughter?”

She nodded, jutting her chin out in defiance of the reproach that was surely coming, even as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I have been corresponding with her for the better part of a year.”

“In secret?” She nodded again, and his body began to feel as if it were made of molten lead.

A year. She had been planning this escape for nearly a year. It was not, as he had assumed, just an impulsive, rebellious notion but a proper plan. A plan she had risked all her hopes and dreams and happiness upon. A plan he had foiled in mere days, and with such dismissive contempt for her in his heart.

The weight of his guilt became so heavy he could not bear it, and he fell to his knees before her. Of all the sins he committed since Rhaenyra had shackled him with his white cloak, this was the worst—a step too far, even for him.

This lovely princess, a future queen, was good. Sweet and pure and full of hope in a hopeless world. When he looked at her, he no longer saw the impish young girl who so happily followed Aegon in his mischief, but the beautiful, kind woman she had grown into.

He could not condemn that woman to the misery that surely awaited her should she marry Aegon. Whether it damned his soul or cost him his life, he could not.

So, he enveloped her hands in his and gazed up at her eyes. A softer shade of violet than Rhaenyra’s, and all the more beautiful. All the sounds and smells of the awful inn faded away as he looked into those eyes. “If you would allow me, princess,” he swallowed the slight lump in his throat, torn between grief and elation at the prospect of her saying yes, “I would be honored to accompany you on your journey.”

The princess smiled, and as he basked in its radiant glow, Criston realized that what the gods offered by bringing him to her was not temptation or redemption but the chance at a new beginning. A new life. With her.

I no longer do taglists. If you'd like to be notified when I post a new fic, please follow @exitpursuedbyavulcan-writes and turn on notifications!

#criston cole x reader #criston cole x oc #criston cole fanfic #ser criston cole #criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x oc #ser criston cole fanfic #criston cole fanfiction #ser criston cole fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #exitpursuedbyavulcan #vbbships

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angeliolo · 2 days ago

Text

remember everything

y/n’s pov

an au by me and @sofisturns

𓇼 chap. 4 - easy

as my feet dragged along the cold sand, the only thing my mind focused on was him. the way the bonfire glow reflected onto his fair skin, the way he squinted his eyes whenever he laughed, the way he fiddled with his untouched drink, the way he looked at me tonight.

when i finally arrive back home, im greeted with nothing but uncomfortable silence and the slight hum of the air conditioning. i check my phone. 1:43 am. i let out a deep sigh as an attempt to break the silence. no messages, no missed calls, no greeting at the door. a part of me wished my parents would’ve shown some signs of worry of where i was, but i knew they wouldn’t- they never do

after taking a shower, i lay on my bed- the warm sheets almost replicating the feeling of chris’ presence. it’s a poor substitute but i let myself sink into the illusion that we are still together, walking along the shoreline.

i grab my phone without thinking- my mind working on autopilot as i pull up his instagram. I convince myself that i’m just checking, just taking a brief look, but before i realize it im scrolling. I can’t help myself, i’ve never been so invested in a person before- let alone a boy. I catch myself smiling as i tap through his highlights, seeing photos of him and his brothers, various sceneries, snapshots of his life.

before i know it, im in too deep. rewatching his highlights for what feels like forever. suddenly a wave of confidence rushes over me, i swipe to open my dms and type in his username. the words “hi there” are on my screen, my thumb hovering over the send. what if he didn’t want to talk this late. what if he wasn’t even up. what if matt or nick said something about me. my inner thoughts and anxiety take over, distracting me from noticing i sent the message. shit.

y/n and chris dm’s

hi there: @y/n.y/n/l/n

@chrissturniolo: what’s up

couldn’t sleep lol plus i missed you :@y/n.y/n/l/n

@chrissturniolo: missing me already y/n? and you think i’m the bold one

@chrissturniolo: anyways, you trynna do something tomorrow?

send me your address. i’ll meet you tomorrow morning, i’ll show you around the shore. :@y/n.y/n/l/n

suddenly the silence in my room didn’t feel so heavy, i couldn’t wait to see chris again. i couldn’t figure out why i was so drawn to him, his presence- why the thought of being around him made my chest feel lighter, like i could finally be my full authentic self.

i stayed there in my bed, lying on my side as i tried to answer the big question in my mind. why was talking to him so easy? i had known all the guys down here at the shore for years, i’d grown up with them , yet when it came down to it, every conversation felt forced, like i was caught in a riptide unable to keep up.

maybe it was the way his initial demeanor was reserved, like he was someone worth uncovering. or maybe it was the way his voice was welcoming, steady like the waves lapping against the sand reminding me to stay grounded while everything else had drifted away.

although we’d only known each other for a short period of time, our conversations were some of the best i’d had in a while. our words flowed effortlessly, as if we were currents pulling each other back to shore. With Chris, i didn’t have to second guess what i was about to say, never had to hold my breath, or pretend to act like i cared about what he was saying. He made the space around us feel open- like the sea stretching far beyond the horizon, leaving more to be discovered- both unknown and thrilling.

i roll over onto my other side, allowing the warmth of my blankets swallow me, a small smile tugging on my lips. Tomorrow, i’d get to see him again. I close my eyes as the thought of him washes over me, providing more warmth than i already had.

ᝰ hey luvs! i hope we are all enjoying remember everything so far

posted early just for @sonnysturns <3

⋆.˚ taglist

@chrissturniolossidebitch @chrissweetheart @m00nl1tgh0st @mothstvrnz @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @espressqe @chrepsi @samwinchesterisawhore @sonnysturns

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nixon-stars · 15 hours ago

Note

ooooooh you wanna yap about Clara so badddddd (please yap about her please please please please please)

HI YES I REALLY DO

I dunno how much I'll talk but I'm putting in the lil read more antway

HIIIIIII SO

For those not in the know, Clara is my sweet evil baby girl also the main antagonist for my oc world and story, rn going under the name 'Pakshapuram' (definitely going to change it tho, also 'paksha' coming from Sanskrit for wing and puram being a common suffix for towns in south india, like Kanchipuram)

She was born and raised in Pakshapuram, a city town thing that is one of a few cities around the area (this area is pretty isolated the only people that come through were born and raised or shifty guys working through black market sort of trades).

She was born the only child to Amara, who with no partner and no other kids and a big expectations on her, put everything into raising Clara. She's a pretty typical Indian mum though, rarely giving affection or praise, but it works, and Clara knows she's well loved.

She is also a bharatanatyam dancer!! Which doesn't help with the pressure but whatever, Clara's life is good, she has her mum, lots of friends, people all around her that want to help, and most importantly she has Xavier.

Xavier, I could talk about him forever, but what you need to know is that he and Clara are CLOSE. Always together, never separated, all the aunties look on and call them "heart and soul" (ഹൃദയവും ആത്മാവും) they don't leave each other's side right

But there's no good character without a touch 🤏 of trauma so, yayyyy

While dancers learn bharatanatyam, after they learn everything and stuff they get this big ceremony debut into their official career, it's called an Arangetram, and it's a bigggg deal okay?

Also like a year before this, Amara find out she's expecting!!!! Gives birth to a baby boy!!!! Very healthy!!!! Nothing will happen to him promise!!!!!!

Anyway on the day of Clara's Arangetram, she goes to her aunty's house to get dressed quickly in her saree (if you've ever tried to put on a saree you KNOW this isn't quick in the slightest)

She comes back and 😱😱😱 her mum is a statue wthhh?????

And her baby brother is gone?????? (It has nothing to do with amara's old wlw situationship that ended terribly and sourly and left a lot of unanswered questions and lingering feelings whattt)

She's confused af obviously and angry and WHO TF TURNED MY MUM INTO A STATUE y'know very justified, and she overhears some people talking about how Dragons???? might be responsible????

You need to know that dragons are heavily venerated in Pakshapuram, the religion of the city revolves around how important dragons are too the world right and how they shouldn't be touched or anything yeah

An old guy came up and said that he had known about a prophecy that something like this could happen and blah blah blah Clara's in charge now

But like she's sixteen so that's alottttt of pressure to put on a literal child you would think? NOPE they said make her queen now

So now Clara's in charge and also A GRIEVING TEENAGER and she is stressed

And woahhhjj perfect timing famine through the land!!!!!!!

Every one is really hungry and Xavier, who is now general, asked her what she wanted to do about it and maybe just maybe let's use the food we had stored just in case something like this happened????

Clara goes "no girl im using that"

And Xavier's like "what why we don't need to use those???"

And Clara like "yeah we do thats what I'm referring the troops I sent to go find a dragon for me to kill to get revenge for killing my mum"

And Xavier's like "you crazy bitch people are starving can you be insane later"

Clara throws a temper tantrum and exiles him woooooop #girlboss

Years pass and Xavier's making a under ground resistance against Clara because she has moved on from killing people with her ignorance to just killing them if they disagree with her which isn't cool

Clara goes very insane with the grief and stress and everything she's soooo unhappy and very evil about it she's talking to the statue of her mum and she's not doing well

And here's about where the main story starts, and I haven't even talked about the protagonists

Anyway I wonder what happened to that baby brother????? 🤔🤔🤔 I guess we'll never knowwwwww

#shut up nix #oc clara #oc amara #oc xavier #yeahhhhh thus is a lot i knowwww j needed the yap #i could go on into the real story but ive decided against ittt id rather keep that in my brain until its done cooking #but hi com hope you like this

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mrkeatingsblazer · 1 day ago

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The Prophecy [Oh, Was It Punishment] Part Three

Apollo x Child of Hermes! Reader

Part One Part two Part Three Part Four

The camp was still as they looked on in shock at the unconscious boy on the ground. The Asian girl plopped herself beside him, lifting his lip arm and dropping it with a sigh before looking towards them.

“Are you guys going to help us or are you just gonna stand there looking stupid?”

Will pushed through you and Clarisse with a sudden sense of urgency, “Dad?!” he proclaimed, dropping to his knees. His hands instantly began to glow as he pressed them down on his fathers body while humming a hymn to activate his abilities. Chiron drew back the attention of the camp to himself, ordering the heads of cabins to direct their younger siblings away. When Austin and Kayla tried to join Will by their fathers side, the centaur blocked their passage and sent them back to cabin 7. With a nod both Travis and Connor took over your role as cabin head, guiding your siblings away while allowing you to linger at the scene.

“[reader]! Nico! Return to your cabins and ensure the younger children are safely put away.” Chiron pleaded with you, seeing as neither of you have left.

“Not a chance, big guy,” Nico snarked as he went to help Will lift up his father, leaving the centaur aghast. You went to the girls' side. Even with her confident introduction, you saw the creeping fear invading her eyes. She looked no older than 12. How did she even find him? You think, looking towards Apollo. If he even was Apollo. For all you know he could be making it up or just had brain damage and was imaging it all. Probably the latter with the way he collapsed. That worries you more. This little girl was traveling with either a powerless monster attracting god or a loony weirdo who is way too delusional. Seriously if you are gonna claim yourself as a God you might wanna have a look at yourself before picking the literal god of beauty.

“Hey kiddo,” you say crouching down in front of the girl. She looks up at you with tired eyes. “I’m [reader] and i’m the head of the Hermes cabin and as the God of travelers, Hermes takes in all unclaimed Demi-Gods, so until your Godly parent claims you, you’ll be staying with me and my siblings over there!” You smile while pointing towards your cabin before backtracking , “you do know what Demi-Gods are right?”

“I am one dummy,” she rolls her while pushing herself up, “and don’t call me kiddo.” she stomps in the direction of your cabin leaving you standing alone as the previous trio had already left towards the infirmary. Maybe you were looking too deeply into this kid. With a sigh you drag your hands over your face before following the child.

“This brat better not be one of yours,” you mutter to your father, “because I am not taking care of her.”

The next morning you found yourself heading towards the infirmary when you should have been leading canoeing. With a little bit of bribery and not so little bit of lying, Travis accepted taking over. He was gonna be insanely pissed later when Katie Gardier isn’t co-leading but you’ll make up for it. Right now what was important was behind the door in front of you. Chiron and Mr. D were whispering to themselves in a corner. Chiron, as always, was taking the situation serious while Mr. D could hold back his shit eating grin as he looked to and from the centaur to his so called brother; you still hold on to your doubts on if this guy was Apollo. You’ve seen Apollo. The guy’s a Greek God literally and figuratively and the boy in front of you wasn’t even ugly but Lord Apollo made supermodels look average.

The cabin 7 kids were sitting around him in the visitors chairs as he was still unconscious. You notice Kaylas hand on his leg, glowing ever so slightly. Austin drums his fingers on the bedside. He doesn’t allow his eyes to linger away from the sleeping figure for even a second.

“Well?” you ask, walking up to the trio.

“It’s my dad.” Will said as he stared past his father in the bed and out the window, circling bandages between his two hands.The kid looked totally defeated. You would feel the same too if Hermes came down to camp seemingly mortal, looking only a couple years older than you. The thought sends shivers down your spine.

“That's Apollo.”

“He is, “ Chiron says from behind, “and he has come to us broken.” the centaur looks saddened by the God. You suddenly remember that Apollo taught Chiron everything he knows, almost like his father. The orientation film was ever campers worst nightmares, the Apollo kids especially, but one scene always made you smile. It was Apollo [in that short tunic that accidentally mooned us during his orientation poetry reciting] and Chiron outside the big house explaining why Camp Half Blood was built. Finding out Apollo founded the camp had you putting aside extra food for burning for months. The soft smile on Chirons face while he allowed the God beside him to explain was something you hadn’t seen since the film.

“This is the funniest thing to happen since Athena blew that flute,” Dionysus grinned down at us. He raised his hands in surrender as both Chiron and Will sent him death glares.

“Mhm urgh…” We all snapped towards the sound. The kids stiffen as their father groggily sits up. He rubs his eyes before squinting around the room. Suddenly he yelps, flinging the blanket from his body. He flails about before falling off the hospital bed in a heap on the floor.

“Dad!” His kids yell as they scramble towards him but Apollo begins to crawl, his blanket covering his vision. You feel him grab your leg as he reaches out. Without thinking you kick him away.

“OW!,” he yells, ripping the sheet from his head to glare up at you. “Do you know who I am? I should smite you for your imprudence.”

“Like you could right now Brother,” Dionysus laughs. You see the well of tears invade the Gods [former god? How can a god no longer be a god?] deep brown eyes. They looked so different to the power blue ones his former body had. The puppy-like look made something twist in your gut and feel bad for him, even though he did just threaten your life. Without thinking you bent down to help him stand up. He wobbled slightly, still fatigued from his rest. He leaned into you and looked into your eyes for a beat before pushing away.

“Where is Meg?” he asks the room.

“The little brat?” you question.

“Yes, that one.” he looked anxiously around.

“Don’t tell me,” Mr. Ds eyes light up. Apollo glares at him as if knowing what he is thinking.

“Oh my gods,” he laughs.

“Shut your mouth brother!”

“The child is your master!” he bursts out laughing.

“I'll destroy you!” Apollo raged as he rushed towards Mr.D. Before anyone could blink, Apollo disappears and in his wake a cawing crow flaps its wings.

next part--

*hey guys! its been so long since I updated this fic but as a college student and working writer its hard to get inspiration when all my creativity goes into my own poetry and novel. I will try and update when i can! I also wanted to see if people would be okay if i opened this post to becoming an Apollo x Reader x Percy fic! I may add other perspectives in the future to show Apollo coming to Percys apartment and flashbacks with reader and Percy during the giants war. As its been a minute i would also like to remind people that this, while based off the concept of ToA, will only be following the plot loosely and will have its own end game for the characters. Thank you for all the kind messages and questions and for also enjoying this fic*

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sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth · 11 hours ago

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Forbidden Fruit (Winchester men x female reader) - Chapter 1

You're over at the Winchester house, meeting Dean and John for the first time. When you and Sam disappear to his room after dinner, Dean and John think about what it would be like to be with the girl the youngest Winchester brought home. And maybe, just maybe, you're thinking of them too...

Read it on AO3

Rated E

Part 2 coming to AO3 this Sunday!

Chapter 1 - Sam

"So is that one of the options?" you ask, head tilted up so your neck is exposed, Sam nibbling at the soft skin there, both of you pretending you’re still talking about college.

"Mmh hmm," he mumbles, unwilling to part enough from you to give a real answer. He can still taste the salt of the cracker you shoved into his mouth a minute ago, giggling at the crumbs falling on his t-shirt, which led to his revenge attack on your neck.

"But do you like it better than Stanford?" you ask and Sam can hear the grin in your voice, how you like to pretend that this is still just a normal conversation, even though Sam is pressing you back against the kitchen counter, lips on you, hands running along your sides. You always like to pretend nothing is going on right up until something happens.

Sam detaches from your neck and looks at your face. You’re looking up at him with big eyes, like you’re expecting an answer. You’ve had this talk a million times, so he runs his hands down your body until they land on your hips, pulls them towards himself a little. Looks down at the spot where your shirt is riding up just a little bit over the waistband of your skirt.

"It’s not in California," he says, not really answering your question but imagining that little bit of skin and how nice it would look in the sun, not in the drab, dark weather of Bumfuck, Nowhere. How you would smell like sun milk and grass, on top of the sweet smell of apple you already carry.

"My mother says everyone in California does coke and worships perversion," you say and Sam looks up at your face, grinning. "Plus I have a year of community college left." Sam shrugs.

"They have community colleges in California," he says. You turn a little bit more serious. He hasn’t outright asked you yet, hell, he doesn’t even know where he will end up going. But the thought of you coming with him has been on his mind for weeks. Maybe you could get your own place together. He’s not sure how that would work, but he still likes to think about it. No sneaking around when no one’s home. No half-clothed sex to avoid getting caught, instead you could lounge in bed and do it over and over, not needing to worry about anyone interrupting or hearing you.

As if he manifested it, Sam hears the front door open. He frowns, and leans to the side, looking out of the doorway that separates the kitchen from the dining and living area, but he can’t see the front door from here. They’ve been here for nearly half a year, yet Sam can’t get used to the house. Maybe his brain just refuses to remember any place since it thinks it’s never worth it.

Dean stalks into the kitchen, stops dead in his tracks. He takes in the scene before him, bright eyes going over Sam then over you, back to Sam and then back to you, lingering there. Dean’s mouth is open like he was about to say something, probably honey, I’m home, or something stupid like that. Instead he blinks, raises his chin a little, a cocky smile spreading over his lips. It’s the look Sam has seen his older brother give a thousand girls. He calls it the silent how you doing?

"Didn’t know we had company," Dean says, not taking his eyes off you. Sam instinctually takes half a step forward, almost as if to bring himself between you and his brother.

"I thought you were going out," he says, carefully watching Dean. You’ve never been here before, nor do Dean or their dad really know about you. But Dean seems to be mostly occupied with checking you out, which isn’t great, but at least he’s not making a scene. Besides, they haven’t yet invented a woman under forty Dean won’t at least check out, Sam’s pretty sure. And it’s not like Dean would ever do something. Well, except that one time with Rachel Nave, Sam’s prom date. On Sam’s prom night. He shakes himself out of his thoughts, swallows.

"I was gonna," Dean says, "but the chick I was meeting is on the rag. So I thought I’d come home for dinner." Sam doesn’t miss the once-over Dean gives you at the word dinner . Then his older brother shrugs.

"Women’s problems, am I right?" he says, now looking at your face, and Sam half turns to look at you as well. You raise your eyebrows, stare Dean down.

"Right," you say, and then there’s a moment of weird silence.

"So I guess the most important question," Dean breaks it, tone suggestive, "is this: thigh or breast?" Sam frowns, not believing Dean would be that crude.

"Dean!" Sam says, hating that he sounds like the square kid in front of you, the one who doesn’t like joking about sex. But then Dean raises his hand, and Sam feels immediately guilty when he sees the greasy brown bag in Dean’s hand, the one with the logo from the chicken shop down the street they like. Dean skipped his date and brought home dinner for Sam. To his relief, he hears you chuckle.

"Wing, if you have it," you answer, then tear your eyes away from Dean and smile at Sam.

Sam officially introduces the two of you while you grab plates and cutlery. Dean offers you a beer, and you look at Sam. Sam says he’ll take one too, and while the three of you set the table, Dean makes it a whole thing how Sam’s not legally old enough to drink, how he has to wait another two years, and then jokingly asks to see your ID. When you confirm that you are 21 just as Dean sets down the hot sauce in the middle of the table, he raises his eyebrows, throws an impressed look at Sam, who can’t help but feel just a little proud. Yeah, Sam Winchester has a hot, older girlfriend. Let Dean make fun of that .

It might have been a good night. Sam’s actually happy you and Dean are finally meeting. He didn’t mean for it to happen this way, but you get along. You meet Dean on his jokes, turn them around on him. You’re clever like that, and you make Dean laugh a few times. It could be a good night.

But just as the three of you sit down, Dean handing out meat like some kind of chicken Santa, the front door opens again.

John walks in with the face that lets his sons know he hasn’t had a good day. His brow is furrowed, he’s looking at the ground and a deep sigh leaves him when he throws his keys at the small table next to the door, the one that already stood there when they moved it. He shaved a few days ago, but already his jaw is covered in dark, thick stubble. He has just a touch of grey on his chin, a fact that deeply disturbed Sam when he first noticed it. His father seems stuck in time, like a bug in amber. He shouldn’t be aging.

Sam sees the way Dean freezes when John comes in, and he knows he does the same. What’s worse is that he can tell that you notice, too. You look at him, then quickly at Dean, then back at Sam again. You’re so attentive, that’s the problem. Well, it’s not a problem, it’s great, except when Sam is trying to hide from you that this entire household stands and falls with John’s moods.

Funnily enough, John stops dead in his tracks too, just like his oldest. He’s not used to anyone else ever being there. Dean doesn’t bring his conquests home, and Sam, well, Sam doesn’t bring anyone home. He’s not keen on people knowing what his life is like, but you’re the exception. He can’t tell you about what he and his family actually do, but he wants to show you as much of himself as possible. Plus, there was nowhere else for the two of you to go, it’s too cold to be outside, and Sam really, really wants you tonight.

"Dean brought food," Sam says, feeling like an idiot for pointing out something so obvious. Then he swallows, turns to you. Says: "this is…" and introduces you. He turns back towards John. "My girlfriend."

John nods, slowly. You straighten in your seat, smile your brilliant smile at him.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester," you say and it feels like your words flood the room with normalcy. John stands there for another second, then he takes his jacket off, and to Sam’s surprise, he walks up to the table, puts it over the back of the chair at its head, and sits down.

"Yeah, I could eat," John says, reaching for the brown bag. Sam and Dean throw each other a quick look, neither wanting to disturb this moment. This is the first family meal, where all three of them are sitting down, in…

Actually, Sam has no idea. Maybe ever. Dean clears his throat and then everyone turns back to their plates, acting like this is totally normal. Sam can feel you looking at him from the side, but he elects not to meet your gaze. Not right then.

"So," John speaks up, and his tone is almost casual, "how did you two meet? Dean, get me a beer, will ya?" Dean stands immediately, does what he was asked to do, while you finish chewing.

"I work at a bookstore downtown that Sam goes to," you explain. "We got to talking and then we talked some more and then the store closed, so we decided to get coffee and keep talking." You chuckle a little while Dean makes a snorting noise that everyone ignores as he comes back to the table, and Sam finally turns to you, smiles. He wants to kiss you right then. How easily you are making this whole room seem lighter, fresher.

"Oh yeah, what was he buying?" asks Dean, who is placing an opened beer in front of his father, then sitting again. "Another book about dragons and magic?" Sam drops his hands on the table, gives Dean an unbelieving stare.

"What?" Dean says in response, raising his own beer. "You’re a friggin’ nerd."

"Actually we got to talking over some brochures from local colleges," you say, and Sam’s blood freezes. His father and brother don’t know about his applications, the ones you’ve been helping him with. You must catch yourself, because you quickly add: "I’m at the community college in town, but I’ve been thinking about switching."

Sam shoots quick looks at the other two men at the table. They don’t seem to have noticed. Dean is concentrated on his food and John is chewing slowly, looking at you intently.

"What do you study?" he asks, voice neutral.

"Linguistics," you reply, then smile bashfully. "I find language intriguing." You seem a little embarrassed almost and Sam drops his hand under the table, squeezes your leg. You look at him, keep smiling. Then you suddenly raise your hand and wipe something off his lip, chuckling a little, before you lean in and give him a quick kiss.

It’s like someone sucked all the air from the room. Dean looks up and John somehow becomes even more quiet, stops chewing. Sam has the overwhelming need to clear his throat. You look around, clearly realizing that casual intimacy is not something that is often seen at this table.

Sam doesn’t know how to change the topic, his brain going completely blank, so instead, he reaches for the hot sauce. The bottle’s still open, the cap lying somewhere else on the table where Dean left it, and he misjudges the distance. The bottle doesn’t just fall over, it goes spinning, shooting its contents everywhere including, to Sam’s utter shock, your shirt.

"Goddamn it, Sam," John says while Dean scoots back in his chair, trying to get out of the way. Sam feels red hot shame run through him.

"Shit, I’m sorry," he says, but you’re standing up, grabbing your napkin, which is just a piece of paper towel, lean over the table, wipe at the spill.

"It’s okay," you say and Sam freezes. "Nothing happened."

You wipe at the sauce, the three men only watching you, the moment somehow mesmerizing to all three of them. When you’re done, you drop the paper towel on your plate, turn to Sam with a smile.

"Do you have a shirt I could borrow?" you ask, motioning to the stain on yours. Acting like it’s just a stain and not the end of the world.

Sam gets you a shirt, and you go to the bathroom, but not without kissing him again briefly in the hallway where his father and brother can’t see. Sam walks back to the table, sits down, nobody saying anything. He stares at the food, suddenly not hungry anymore. He wants to follow you to the bathroom, walk in just as you’re pulling off your shirt, crowd you against the sink and fuck you until you can’t take anymore of him, until all you can say is his name. He feels a familiar tug in his crotch. He wants you, badly.

No one speaks until you come back, which in itself isn’t unusual. The Winchester house is always filled with awkward silences. You return, wearing Sam’s shirt that falls over your hands and Sam feels a hot buzz in his spine. It looks good on you. You sit down, and his hand shoots to your leg. You smile at him again, but it’s a different smile. The one that shows him you know what he wants and want it too.

"I think we’re done," Sam says, reaching for your hand as he stands. "We were actually gonna watch a movie, so…" He lets the sentence taperout. His father isn’t really paying attention, is slowly sipping his beer, but Dean’s looking at you again. Finally, John nods.

"I’ve got some things to take care of," he says, not giving any details, which probably means it’s hunting stuff. "So I’ll be out again later."

Sam nods, then tugs on your hand and finally you stand.

"It was a real pleasure," you say, and John only shoots you a quick look before Sam is leading you out of the room. Despite being a three-bedroom, all the rooms are on one floor. He basically drags you into his bedroom, which is small, only a single bed, a narrow dresser and a desk fitting into it, throws the door shut behind you.

He turns around and then he is on you. You tilt your head up and Sam kisses you, wraps his arms around you. It makes you giggle and he leads you, makes you walk backwards.

"Sorry my family is so fucking awkward," he says, just as your ass bumps against the desk. You let your hands wander up his arms, run your fingers over the tensed muscles in his neck.

"They’re not so bad," you reply, suggestively raising your eyebrows at him. "I can see that good looks run in the family" Sam makes a face.

"Ew," he says and you giggle, but then you let your hands drop to the front of his jeans.

"Don’t worry," you say, "you’re the handsomest of them all." Sam moves his hands too, and lays them over yours, runs his fingers over your soft skin while he looks at your face.

"We shouldn’t, right?" you ask after a moment, tone very clearly implying that you do think you should . Sam raises his chin a little.

"Depends," he says, and he can feel that spread of warmth in his body that even the slightest suggestiveness from you ignites in him. "Can you be quick and quiet?"

The smile that spreads on your face is sinful. Sam can be shy, but he isn’t when it comes to this. Not with you, anyway. He’s become downright cocky.

"I can be quick," you say, tongue darting out to wet your lips at the obvious meaning.

Sam leans in, kisses you, hard. He loves the teasing, but he feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to touch you right now. While he does, you start moving on the button of his jeans, but Sam slaps your hands away. It makes you gasp, and your mouth drops open, and Sam uses the moment to press his tongue against yours. He grabs your wrists, moves them so that your hands are resting on the desk behind you, a high little moan already escaping you at the way he handles you. He lets his palms run over your arms to your hips, then lower.

He breaks the kiss when his hands start traveling up the soft skin of your inner thighs. He looks at your face, listens to your chopped breathing. You’re looking into his eyes, keeping his gaze. Sam loves seeing how long you can last until your eyes drop closed in pleasure. He never thought he would enjoy being dominant in bed, but you have tickled it out of him. His fingers meet the seat of your panties and he grins broadly.

"That wet just from dinner?" he asks as he presses his fingertips against you, and a cracked laugh leaves you while your eyelids flutter.

"Just kept imagining slipping under the table and blowing you," you respond and Sam raises his chin.

"Really?" he says, slowly moving his fingertips back and forth, making you whimper a little. You really are wet. It makes his cock strain against the material of his underwear.

"Mmh hmm," you respond, your breathing becoming a little heavier. "You just looked so cute sitting there." Sam raises one eyebrow, then steps closer, crowding you and without warning increases the pressure, begins rubbing you hard through your damp underwear. Your body twitches at the sudden stimulation, but with Sam so close, there’s no way to escape it. And Sam knows you wouldn’t want to anyway.

"Cute, huh?" he says, voice challenging, face close to yours but you have a hard time looking at him, your eyelids threatening to close as you make that whimpering noise again. "How about I show you cute?"

He keeps rubbing you, fast and hard, his jaw clenched in exertion as he watches his touch make you nearly go cross-eyed. He sees you climb that hill, breath stuttering and he can’t help himself but grin when he sees how close you’re getting. He stops at the last second. Your eyes fly open in question, but Sam answers it before you can ask.

"Get on the bed," he says, then moves his hand, reaches for the desk drawer while you stumble past him, do what he told you. His fingers fly over the clutter in the drawer before grabbing the golden foil. When he turns to you, you’re already standing in front of his bed, kicking off your second shoe. While Sam watches, you reach under your skirt and drag down your panties, let them fall to the floor. You keep his gaze as you step out of them, then slowly drag your skirt up so it sits around your waist, revealing yourself to him. It’s all the encouragement he needs.

He crosses the small distance to you, already opening his jeans while you sit on the bed. Sam comes close and you lay your hands high on his legs, rub them up and down while Sam fishes out his cock. You bite your lip at the sight, look up at him like you’re looking for permission. Sam’s already opening the condom, but he shakes his head.

"We need to be quick," he says as he wraps his hand around his cock, strokes it a few times, and with a small pout you drop back on the bed, rest on your elbows while Sam takes out the condom and begins putting it on. The truth is, he wants to feel you. Feel how tight and warm his touch has made you.

Sam wrestles down his jeans and underwear, then pulls his shirt over his head, lets them drop to the floor but then he’s kneeling on the bed. He strokes himself again, but he’s always hard as steel for you. He makes his way between your spread legs, and without much ado, presses the head of his dick against your entrance. You just have time to arch your back and then Sam pushes into you.

A high cry leaves you and Sam immediately drops forward, clasps one hand over your mouth. At the same time, he starts snapping his hips, no time to wait. You groan against his palm, squeeze your eyes shut and Sam can feel you desperately clenching around him.

Sam leans his forehead against the back of his hand, presses his nose against your chin while he needily drives into you. He’s had sex with other girls before, but it’s never been like this. He’s never felt this level of chemistry, this connection, this insane want . He’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, and he really wants to tell you, but he’s right now probably isn’t the best time.

He raises his head, looks at your face, the corners of his mouth twitching through his heavy panting. Your eyes are closed and your brow furrowed, like you’re in deep concentration. While Sam’s thrusts are rocking you back and forth, small little noises escape through his hand. He’s doing this to you, he has to remind himself. He’s making you feel this good.

He lets go of your mouth and pushes himself up. Without slipping out of you, he pushes one of your legs up, uses it to pivot your lower body and turn it. You’re already jello, so while you try to help with the turning, Sam does most of it. Which is fine for him. Getting to put you into position makes him nearly come right then and there.

He plunges back into you, the sudden impact making you drop flat onto the mattress. You press your face into Sam’s pillow, trying to quiet yourself but some sounds still escape you. Sam presses his face to the back of your neck, trying to still his own noises. Your hand goes over his where it’s resting on the mattress, and you lace your finger through his. It’s such a tender gesture amongst the rough fucking that Sam nearly says it right there – I love you. Come move away with me. Anything, anywhere, just as long as you’re with me.

He pushes his other hand under you. It’s a tight fit, but his fingertips manage to find your clit. He doesn’t have much room to move with how close you are to the mattress, will probably have the hand cramp of the century in a minute, but he doesn’t care. You squeal when he presses against you, squeeze him inside of you. Sam hisses, then lowers his mouth to your ear.

"I want you to come in this bed," he says, notices you raising your head a little to make sure you can hear him. "I want it to smell like you." With that, Sam rubs you faster, and only a moment later, you come.

You buck up and backwards, body shaking and when you rip your mouth open, Sam has a second, through the haze of his own oncoming orgasm, where he’s worried you’re gonna scream. Instead, you turn your head and bite into the skin on the wrist of his arm close to you. Sam grunts, but the pain is sudden and perfect and then his movement becomes uncoordinated, sloppy, and he pulls his shoulders up as he comes.

His face goes to the back of your neck again as he grinds into you a few more times before his body goes slack. It’s suddenly silent in the room, except for both of you breathing hard, which makes Sam realize that you probably weren’t being as quiet as you thought you were.

He pulls out of you, exhaustion already pulling his body down towards the bed again. He slumps down next to you, and in the next second, your arms go around him. You kiss him, his face, his lips, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach, gently and thoroughly, before you end with your face close to his. Sam looks into your eyes, your beautiful eyes. He should say it.

He swallows instead. Leans forward and kisses your nose, which makes you giggle. Then he turns slightly, tugs the condom off. He makes a knot in it, drops it into the trash can next to the desk. He can reach it with his arm extended, probably the only advantage of the room being so small. Then he turns back to you.

He brings his hand up, cups your cheek and you smile while you look at his lips.

Tomorrow, he thinks, tiredness pulling at him. You raise your hips, tugging your skirt off you, and Sam sort of helps, but mostly his hand just ends up on your soft stomach, the fabric of his shirt you’re wearing falling over his hand when you’re done wrestling the skirt off.

Tomorrow he’ll tell you.

#supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #john winchester x you #john winchester x reader

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