#no matter what happens i'll always be here for you

[dcxdpdabbles]

I found and read this cute story on AO3, about Frostbite being Danny's legal parental guardian. In the story Bruce Wayne runs into Frostbite (in his full yeti glory no disguise) who is setting up for school bake sale. Got me thinking about what if Danny's past rogues took turns filling in and doing parental stuff especially at school functions. Like Frostbite does the bake sale, Pandora shows up for his games, Ghostwriter goes to all of the PTA meetings, Clockwork goes to teacher meetings, so on and so forth.

The 43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale by Faeriekit

Ohhh, that sounds good! I'll get it a read when I have some time. Thank you for the rec!

Danny Fenton is one of the lucky few who have a very involved household. His various family members would always sign up for any school event the boy needed support in. It didn't mean that the boy won everything, but as a teacher for nine years, Emily has come to learn how much it mattered to just have someone show up.

She had seen students whose entire faces light up after spotting someone in the crowd in the same amount she saw a student's hope crumble after they scanned the room.

Danny was a polite young man, a bit on the shyer side, but kind and not a troublemaker, his previous school had her believe. If anything, he seemed to struggle with fitting in, but no students blatantly disliked him.

The general opinion of Danny matched, as her students would say, "I know him from class, but I don't really talk to him. He seems cool though".

Maybe that's why so many people were supposed by his family to march into the auditorium during Danny's talent show. Seeing him wave at the row before starting his gymnastic act had been such a surprise.

Now, Gotham wasn't a close-knit community, not with the size of their city and the millions of people living within it, but everyone would have noticed that Danny was adopted.

After all, he was the only one that wasn't glowing or a large humanoid animal. They cheered the loudest among the crowd; uncaring Danny got bronze- having lost to Joey's tapping dancing for second and Damian's spectacular multi-instrumental cover of a meme song for first place- and Danny beamed back at them.

Gotham was known for not being meta-friendly, but that was only due to a few mean people who shouted the loudest on media outlets. Many of Emily's students were meta, had family that were meta, or knew someone meta. It wasn't a common enough trait one would encounter a meta on every outing, but you would see them in Gotham well enough.

Everyone knew, but no one said it out loud. In the same way, she knew which students' parents were in the country illegally but worked harder than anyone else. Saying anything would help the cops, or worse, the rich running Gotham.

Even the most prejudiced Gothamite would rather be spat on then give them aid. And those who were so prejudiced to help the poor man's enemies, well, Emily has lived here long enough to know they vanished rather quickly. The smart ones kept their mouths shut.

No one could forget what happened to that guy who accidentally insulted Penguin. His grandmother had been an illegal immigrant on his mother's side.

No one messed with that side of the family.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson." Danny's adoptive father, Dr. Frostbite said, ducking down to avoid banging his head on the door. On one of his shoulders was a box of hotdog wieners; on the other were multiple bags of bread. "I'm here for my snack bar shift."

Emily tilts her head back to look the Yeti in the eye. He had been shocked the first time they met, but she could admit that Dr. Frostbite was a relatively gentle and wise soul. "Welcome aboard. The girls are just about to take the field. You can put that down by the crock pot over there."

The mountain of white fur brushes by her with the grace of a king as Dr. Frostbite does as she says. There were no customers at the window, so she leaned on the counter and offered him a smile. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Yes. I was saddened our team did not win, but Danny hit a home run." Dr. Frostbite's sharp smile could have been frightening if he wasn't oozing parental pride. "I caught it all on video."

Emily opens her mouth to respond when a hand lands loudly on the counter with a loud crack. Her heart leaps, and she looks into Danny's Ember. She isn't one of Emily's students, though she does appear to be a teenager in appearance.

You know. If it wasn't for her hair made of fire. Or her blue skin. Or her glow.

"I set a boy on fire," She announces with a cackle.

"That's so?" Dr. Frostbite gently rips open the box, taking out the hotdog packages. With one large claw, he rips a hole into it and lets the few weiners slide into the crockpot with a gentle splash. "What did he do?"

"Tried to slap me on the butt." She huffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk doesn't lose an edge of smugness.

"Well done." Dr. Frostbite praises placing the lid back on. It always surprised Emily to see such careful actions from the large creature. "I assume you did so out of Pandora's line of sight?"

"Naturally. I don't want her lecturing me in front of the whole community." Ember scoffs, crossing her arms. Behind her, the top of Pandora's head can be seen swinging side to side over the dugout, keeping an eye on the ball.

She was the best volunteer referee because even the parents knew not to shout insulting things when she was present. Emily doesn't think she has had such peaceful games in a long while. Hopefully, Danny will try out again for baseball next year so the woman can return.

"Oh hey, you're Danny's English teacher, right? Mrs. Johnson?" Ember asks, leaning on the counter to give Emily a curious look.

When the blond nods, holding out her hand for a shake. "That's right. It's nice to see you again, Ember."

The girl's hair flairs a little as a grin grows on her face. Her hand is ice cold to the touch, but she's got a firm grip that her husband would appreciate. "Likewise. I got a message for you from Ghostwriter. He sent the notes for the last PTA meeting to you and the revision playwright for the musical you two were working on."

Emily's mood brightens up. "That's wonderful. Could you tell him I'll check it out when I get home and get to my laptop since my phone broke in the last Two-Face attack?"

Ember's hair flickers in the wind when she nods, but Danny bounces right up behind her just as she opens her mouth to speak. He's wearing his Gotham Acadamy Baseball uniform with pride despite them losing. "Hey, Frostbite, can I go with Tim and Duke to get Peoeria Pizza? We'll be back before the girl's game ends."

"Only if you take Ember with you," Dr.Frostbite says, nodding to his daughter, who looks alarmed to be included. "She needs more friends."

"Hey!"

"Sure. Come on, Ember, you'll get along with Duke. He likes old-school rock."

"It's not old-school!"

Emily laughs, watching the two siblings bicker as they stride away, blending into the crowd with no one batting an eye at the glowing girl anymore. How blessed that boy was.

"I'm glad Danny has gotten comfortable here. I always worried he never was going to have a normal childhood." Dr. Frostbite confesses to swirling the hotdogs around in the water to ensure each one is cooked.

"I think you and the rest are doing a wonderful job. You're a great father." She assures him, thinking wistfully of her William. He's been on deployment for a few months now and will likely miss the holidays again, but his contract is almost up. They may try for a child when he gets in the reserves. "How are things at the clinic?"

"Oh, wonderful. I'm grateful that Mr. Wayne has allowed the expansion of Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic. Dr. Thompkins will be covering the east side of Gotham while I help those on the west. It's much more fulfilling than working in some hospital that demands funds for the silliest things. Back home, that would have been illegal. The people would have burned me at the stake if I had allowed anyone to pass away due to greed."

"My kind of people." She laughs. A sharp crack sounds from the field as the bat makes contact with the ball, and the crowd goes wild. It's a wonderful day.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Just Giving In

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, truth curses (with a silly twist!), light fluff, angst, smut (fingering, p in v sex, creampie, light sub/dom but like so light), love confessions, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You're under a very annoying truth curse. The kind of truth curse that will kill you if one very specific, Dean-related truth isn't told. But apparently no one's allowed to just die in peace anymore.

Author's Note: It's amazing how I'm able to delude myself into truly believing that I'll actually write something short and only horny. No. We must write 3k of story and 5k of emotional smut. Enjoy!

Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine

Word Count: 8.6k

It’s past midnight when you get back to the bunker. 

You were supposed to be back that afternoon, but certain complications arose, and you’re back now. You’ll have a long, sleepless night to come up with an excuse for why exactly you were five hours late, didn’t text Sam and Dean that you were going to be five hours late, where exactly you were in the first place, and why the car looks like that. Scraped and dented and wrecked, like it had been put through a meat grinder and spat out in a hunk of metal that somehow didn’t explode when you drove it. 

You’re glad you didn’t take the Impala. If Dean yelled at you right now, you might start crying on the spot. Thankfully—in what should be a rare stroke of luck, but feels like a dagger right into your stomach—Sam and Dean seem to have given up on trying to wait for you to come home, so you’re free to retreat to your room and cry in private, like any reasonable adult who’s probably going to die within the week would-

“You’re back.” 

A light behind you flicks on as Dean snaps from across the room, and you grimace as everything inverts. Dean did wait up for you, and that’s tiny and electric high that goes right up your spine. You’re also not lucky, but that just feels like a given at this point. 

You will not cry in front of Dean. You have spent the whole night repeating to yourself that, no matter what happens here, you will not cry in front of Dean. He either think nothing of this week, and it will fade into the distance as you figure this out yourself and he never knows, or he’ll look back on it with nothing but simple grief and anger, remember you fondly and furiously instead of as a weak, emotional, manipulative bitch. Remembers you as the person you’ve spent so long proving yourself to be, instead of the feral girl they’d found you as. 

It doesn’t make turning around to face him any easier. He’s sitting in his usual chair, glaring at you with his arms crossed, and there are bags under his eyes that you put there. A tight line to his lips that’s your responsibility, because you’d fucked up and he knows it. He always knows it. 

Because you fuck up a lot.

“Hey, Dean, what’s up-“

“What’s up?” He snaps, and you have to force your body not to flinch. “You’re crawling back here at one in the goddamn morning without ever, I don’t know, thinking to fucking call when you realized you’d be late, and you’re saying what’s up?”

You swallow. “I lost my phone.”

“You, fuck-“ Dean rubs his jaw with a hand, giving you a look of pure disbelief. “You could’ve borrow someone’s, or prayed to Cas, or just, goddamnit-“ he mutters your name, looking at you with an exhaustion that makes your gut flail. “Where the hell even were you?”

“Um,” you glance down at your hands. “Hunt?”

“Hunt.” His voice is flat, and you wince. “That’s all you’re going to say.”

You nod. “Rowena called me. Needed help with something.”

“And you just fucking went with her, without telling anyone-“

“I didn’t just go with her, I brought a gun. I was careful.” you try to stand a little taller, looking back up to Dean, because you need to sell your half-truth of a story and get out of here. Out of where Dean’s just right there, and it’s making your skin crawl and your blood cold and your eyes push out of your skull the longer you lie to him. “And I did tell Cas-“

“Son of a bitch, that’s not enough.” Dean groans, pushing out of the chair to glower down at you. It’s an intimidation tactic you’ve seen him use before, where he makes himself large and furious, almost beast like. Sometimes it makes him look bigger than Sam, and he only pulls it out when he’s furious, and demanding answers. You don’t think he knows that, when he uses it on you, it does not have the intended effect.  

“Dean-“

“Cas didn’t tell us.” Dean hisses your name, stalking across the room and getting far too close for your brain to function properly. “You need to tell us, because we were, I was-“ Dean cuts himself off with a grunt, his whole body rigid as he scans over your face. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and it’s the truth, so it’s like clear, fresh water over your head and down your throat. “I didn’t mean to freak you guys out. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

“You didn’t-” Dean’s jaw is clenched, and his words seem pushed through his teeth. “Just go to bed,” he mutters your name, and you feel something in your chest snap. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod weakly, and almost run away from him. But not to bed. You’ve already blown this up way too much to just go to bed. 

You go right to Sam’s room and bang on the door, keeping a careful eye over your shoulder for Dean to walk into the hall.

It takes a very long, tense minute, but eventually you hear a groan from the other side of the door, tired words muffled through the wood.

“Dean, she’ll be back, and you’re not helping anything-“ The door swings open to reveal a messy haired, bleary-eyed Sam, and he blinks at you with a frown. “Oh, you’re back. You should go tell Dean-“

“He knows.”

“Cool, that’s good.” Sam scans over you—bouncing slightly on your feet, every movement and breath feeling frantic and borrowed—and frowns. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Oh, uh, you need to talk about it-“

You don’t bother to answer, pushing past Sam into his room and dropping on the end of his mattress, watching him blink at you, his frown deepening every second.

“Yeah, you can come in-“

“Can you please close the door?” You whisper, like Dean might somehow hear from wherever he’d gone after your fight. 

Sam nods slowly, and the movement you hear the click of the doorknob, the words start to fall out of you like vomit. 

“I fucked up, Sam. I really, really fucked up, it’s bad, I’m fucking fucked-“

“Woah, slow down.” Sam moves across the room, running a hand through his hair. “Just, start from the top. Where were you-“

“Rowena called me for help. Some sort of coven drama, she said she needed some backup because her magic was weakened.” You take a long, shaky breath, unable to look anywhere but the corner of Sam’s carpet. “I told Cas, just in case it was a trap, and left. I owed her a favor-“

“Wait, since when did you owe Rowena a favor-“

“Mark of Cain.” You mumble. “I told her I’d owe her if she helped Dean. One favor, cashable on anything.”

Sam says your name slowly. “You didn’t need to do that, we would have figured it out. I mean, Dean wouldn’t want you to-“

“I know, I don’t need you to-“ You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can we focus on one stupid choice at a time, please?”

“Yeah, sorry, keep going. Why are you fucked.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, and decide to skip most of the details. Sam did not need to know about how the case was indeed at trap, or how you’d known it was a trap, but the favor had been a blood oath, so you weren’t able to run or call them. He didn’t need to know how you’d mowed down about five witches with the car—the sickening crunch still rattling around your skull—or how it wasn’t just blood and sweat on your brow, but something from an animal you’d really hoped you’d mistranslated from Latin. 

He just needs to know the reason you hadn’t killed Rowena when you’d escaped and taken out the rest of the coven. 

He just needs to know about the problem.

“It went to shit. Really big shit, Sam. I’m kind of… cursed.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and when you finally gather the confidence to look at Sam, he’s gaping at you, frozen in place.

“What do you mean,” his voice is low, every word slow and deliberate. “Kind of cursed.”

“I mean very cursed.” You mumble. “Really fucking cursed.”

“Shit.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I said you were probably fine, Dean’s gonna kill me-“

“No!” You stand up frantically, your voice almost a squeak. “Don’t tell Dean!”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I tell Dean?!” Sam snaps, looking at you like you’ve gone insane. “If you’re really cursed, we need all hands, and Dean-“

“He can’t know, Sam, please.” You might start crying, every word choked in your throat. “Don’t tell him.”

“I…” Sam trials off, his face dropping into a deep frown that seems to be mostly made of worry as he says your name. “What, exactly, is the curse?”

You sigh, hugging yourself as you speak. “If I don’t resolve my deepest secret, I’ll die.”

Sam blinks. “Like, die die? Death die?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” His eyes widen as the situation fully sinks in, his whole body going slack as he pulls the pieces together. “Fuck.”

You hum a soft agreement. “Fuck.”

“And why can’t I tell Dean? I mean, he’ll want to help-“

“You know why.” You whisper. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck.” Sam groans. “And you’d rather die than-“

“Yes.” You lower yourself down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare ahead at nothing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just. I can’t. I don’t-“ You taste the sting of metal as you bite through your cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I’m going to d-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound, and hear the bed shift as Sam drops at your side and pulls you into a gentle hug.

“We’ll figure it out.” He mutters your name, and you make another weak, strangled noise. “I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Over your first, weak sob, you don’t hear the door open. You only know it opens because Dean clears his throat, and your blood turns white-hot in your body, caught between embarrassment and nerves and a deep, soft and starved piece of your heart that’s trying to climb into your limbs and rip your body away from Sam’s to fly to Dean’s.

“Sammy, she-“ He cuts himself off as he sees you, and you die a little at how he says your name. Like he hates it. “You’re in here.”

You nod, keeping your face angled down, and you hear Dean shift slightly in the doorway. 

“Why are you in Sam’s room.”

There’s no good answer for that, and Sam doesn’t seem to have one either. There’s no plausible lie for why you’re on the floor on Sam’s room, why you’re sniffling, and why he’s hugging you that doesn’t sound insane. Even the truth wouldn’t exactly be an easy sell.

And it hurts. When Dean just sighs and grunts that he doesn’t want to know—that you and Sam can go back to fucking braiding each other’s hair or whatever—and stomps out of the room, it’s like a knife to your gut. But you can’t tell him. Not the truth. Not any of it.

So this will only be the first knife. And you’d worry about what you would be telling him when this was over—how you could possibly explain yourself—if you had any faith you were going to get out of this. 

But you don’t. The week crawls on, and it all only gets so much worse. Vague illness starts to feel like you’re being mauled from inside, and Dean’s anger turns to bullets.

You spend most of your days in the library with Sam, combing through book after book, looking for anything about how you can fix this, and every time Dean walks in, he looks like he wants to punch someone. Like he’s disgusted by your very presence where he can see you, like you’re a spider that’s crawled into his house and he can’t even stand the sight of you. 

“I’m getting dinner.” He snaps on the third night, and when you look up from your book—Sam standing behind you, having hunched over your body to read the passage you’d been pointing to—Dean’s jaw is clenched, his fists curled at his side. “Neither of you got groceries, so I’m ordering. What do you want.”

His voice is flat. It makes your chest feel like it’s being run over by a train.

“I’ll take whatever you get.” You offer him a small smile, because you can’t help yourself, and it just makes him glare more. “But can I please have a milkshake as well?”

Dean narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t know where the hell I’m going.”

“You’re going to the diner, Dean.” You shrug. “You always go to the diner.”

He grunts, something hot flashing over his face that you don’t understand. “Fine. Milkshake.”

He doesn’t bother to ask any follow-up questions. He doesn’t bother to wait for Sam to say what he wants. Dean just marches up to the garage, vanishes for an hour—the diner is ten minutes away, and you start to feel your stomach and heart twist the longer he’s gone—and returns with a slam of the door, throwing a salad at Sam and placing a burger and milkshake in front of you before stomping out of the library.

Dean got your favorite flavor. You hadn’t told him to, but he had.

It tastes like chalk. And you’ve never hated yourself more.

After that, he barely speaks to you. Just low grunts and glowers at you whenever you cross paths, his presence in the bunked suddenly scares. He’d usually sit with you and Sam while you read, cracking unhelpful jokes that make Sam roll his eyes and you giggle, but he’s just gone. Locked in the Dean Cave or the garage, shuffling around the kitchen with a sullen expression, swallowing his dinner whole and refusing to really even look at you.

It hurts more than any anger could. It’s lonely and cancerous the longer it goes on, because you’re still talking to and hanging out with Sam, but he doesn’t count. Your whole heart isn’t orbiting around Sam. The curse is completely indifferent to Sam. The curse doesn’t care when Sam grumbles or frowns at you. It cares when Dean hates you. You think it can feel that this won’t be resolved—because it won’t be, you grow more and more certain with every passing day that this is how you will die—and takes the opportunity to root deeper into your body. Every sneer or glare Dean gives you sits under your nails to claw at your skin. It covers you in sweat in the dead of night, and chokes you when you’re in the shower and the water’s burning your skin.

Sam keeps trying to convince you to just do it, just say the thing to Dean because the worst that can happen is that you’re heartbroken but alive.

“And I really don’t think it would even come to that.” He tells you from across the table at 2am, because you’re running out of time and sleep isn’t something you can even remember how to do anymore. “I mean, it’s Dean-“

“That’s the problem, Samuel.” You hiss. The curse has started to make you mean, and if you make it out alive, you’ll have to buy Sam a million bottles of hair gel to make up for what you’re putting him through. “It’s Dean. He already doesn’t like me-“

Sam frowns. “Why would you think that-“

“Because I’m a responsibility.” You’re spitting, and it tastes like venom. “I’m your kid shadow, I’m Dean’s kid shadow, I’m a burden-“

“You’re not a burden,” Sam says your name slowly. “To either of us. I mean, if what you said about Rowena is true, you saved Dean from the Mark-“

“That doesn’t count. That was just a deal I made-“

“A deal you made for Dean.” Sam’s pushing back. You wish he’d stop. “Most people in our lives wouldn’t have done that for us. And Dean doesn’t think you’re his kid shadow, by the way. I mean, I’ve only ever-“

“Sam.” Your voice is flat. A little broken. “Please don’t. Even if he doesn’t hate me, I- I just can’t-“

“But Dean-“

“Please.” You’re going to cry again. “You won’t convince me.”

Sam sighs, shaking his head. “Well, we need to try something. I’m not just going to let you die.”

You don’t think that’s up to Sam. You don’t think it’s up to anyone anymore. You won’t tell Dean, because you’ve scanned over book after book about spell phrasing, and decided that telling Dean wouldn’t even help. You had to resolve your deepest secret. Rejection that burns your heart to ash, that clouds your lungs and makes you cower and falter won’t be resolving anything, and then you’ll just die in more pain.

You let Sam convince you to try something. More for him than for you. You lock yourself in the bathroom and stare at your hideous reflection in the mirror—your skin a little sunken, your eyes lined with red, your lips raw from being chewed until they bled—and start speaking a whisper, because you can’t stand the sound of your own voice.

“I love Dean Winchester.” You tell yourself, as if you’re not so deeply aware of how your love is tattooed onto your every breath and heartbeat. “I love him. I am going to die, and I love him, and I am very-“ You choke slightly, your eyes stinging as the world blurs. “I am very, very sorry. Not for loving him, but for forcing him to be loved by me. I’m sorry I don’t know how to stop loving him. I’m sorry I’m leaving him. But I am not sorry for loving him. I… I spent a lifetime surrounded by cruel animals who called themselves angels, and he’s the only person I’ve ever- I could believe- I just-“ You drop your head, turning up the faucet to drown out every weak sob and apology. “I love him. And he… he’s too good be obligated to love me. So I think I’ll just…”

You trail off, and crumble onto the tile floor. When you dry your tears and yank yourself back together, Sam’s waiting for you a little down the hall. You shake your head, his shoulders slump, and that’s it. For Sam it’s not—he turns around and marches right back to the library—but for you, it is. You’re done. 

You’ll hole up in your room and die alone. Like how’d you’d been meant to all along, lent only a little bit of extra time by Dean saving you to begin with.

And that time had run out. So you’ll just go die alone.

lay flat on your bed as your vision starts to dance with spots, and spend your time trying to image what a heaven you’re not allowed into will look like. Cas has told you every person gets their own, but you don’t really want that. It sounds like more of your life, and it’s pointless to worry about because you’re headed nowhere but down, but you’d still rather spend eternity with someone.

One person. You’d like to spend eternity with one person. 

The same person who had somehow gotten into your locked room, and is snapping your name as he stands at the foot of your bed. You’d be angrier he’d just barged in if you could remember how to be anything but in pain. You’d snap back if your mouth knew how to be anything but numb. 

“Dean-“

“What the fuck are you doing.” Dean hisses, and you close your eyes, the light suddenly painfully bright. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“Nothing.” You whisper, and he scoffs. 

“Nice shot, sweetheart. I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Dean, I just don’t feel well.”

“That’s fucking bullshit-“

You sigh. “It’s not. I’m sick.” 

There’s a moment of silence, then, “how sick.”

“Fever.” You mumble. “Stomach bug. Maybe the flu. You should probably leave-“

“No,” he grunts, and you hear his steps. He’s coming closer, and your skin might be boiling off your body. “I’m not leaving you-“

“It’s not leaving if I ask you to go.” You mumble, and you can feel the heat of his body off to the side, can hear his breathing—maybe even his heartbeat—and it’s making everything worse-

“I’m not going.”

“Dean, just, please-“

“No, I’m sick of you fucking ignoring me, and I- I don’t even care what’s going on with you and Sam-“

You frown. “Nothing’s going on with me and Sam-“

“I have eyes,” Dean sneers your name, and there’s a tone in his voice that’s almost wounded. “You were hugging in his room, you’re always fucking whispering and hanging out-“

“That’s not-“ You swallow, dragging your eyes open to find him glaring down at you. He looks wounded too. “It’s for a case.”

“What case? A case that I’m not allowed to know about? Because that’s not a case, sweetheart, that’s a secret-“

You almost throw up, just from that word. “It’s- I’m not keep any secrets, Dean, just please go-“

“No!” He’s almost shouting, and the sound is like a cannon into your gut. “I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but you’re suddenly putting yourself in danger, and stuck to my brother, and you’re not talking to me anymore-“

“You’re not talking to me, Dean.” You whisper, his gaze burning you right down to the cavity of your chest. “I’m always in the library-“

“Yeah, I know, with Sam.” Dean scowls, and you’re too tired to think almost anything, but that’s strange. Dean never says Sam like that. Like it’s a horrible word. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, watching Dean carefully. “He’s helping me with something-“

“Something I can’t help you with?”

You blink, ready to lie and say no, but your mush of a brain doesn’t appear to be up to that task. “No.”

Dean’s brow furrows slightly. “So I could help you.”

“I-“ You feel a stab in your intestine, and your voice grows hoarse. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Why-“

“Because I- Just go away, Dean-“

He shakes his head, saying your name in a stern, unwavering voice. “Could I help you-“

“N-“ You swallow a groan as your lungs contract, and this is dangerous. You’re too far gone to lie anymore, and that’s the only chance you have. If Dean keeps poking at you, you’ll tell the truth. You can’t tell the truth. “Please just leave me alone-“

“I’m not leaving you alone.” He snaps, dropping onto the side of your bed to prove his point. “You never left me alone, with the Mark-“

“That’s not-“ You can’t swallow your next sound of pain, or the whine that leaves your throat when Dean’s hand grabs your thigh. “Dean, please go-“

“Do you want me to go.”

“No.” You say it before you can think, and hate that the pain over your muscles lessens when Dean stays, and when his hand starts to rub slow circles. “But you- you have to-“

“I said I’m staying.” He grunts. “And you’re not changing my mind, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“I did.” You whisper, closing your eyes again. Looking at his handsome, annoyingly determined face isn’t helping anyone. “I’m sick.”

“Fine. What’s making you sick.”

“Curse.”

Fuck.

Dean’s silent for a long moment, then-

“What the fuck do you mean, curse.”

“Me.” You mumble. “Curse on me.”

“And how did a curse get on you-“

“Rowena.”

“That fucking bitch.” He mutters, and you feel his grip on you tighten slightly. Almost protectively. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me-“

That was probably a rhetorical question. Your sudden truth-telling streak doesn’t seem to care at all. “I was worried you’d hate me.”

“I- what?”

“I was worried-“

“I heard you,” he grunts. “I just, why the hell would you ever think I’d hate you-“

“Because I suck.” You whisper. “And I can’t- I don’t deserve you.”

Dean’s silent again. You wish he’d stop doing that. “You think you don’t deserve me?”

You nod, barely a movement at all, and Dean groans. You’re still not strong enough to look at him.

“Sweetheart, you- I’m not-“ He cuts himself off, his hand resuming his circles, you’re not sure he knows he’s doing it. “I’m going to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. Got it?”

You hum. Like you’d even have a choice.

“What will cure the curse.”

“I need to,” you try to fight down the words, but you’re light-headed and faint and Dean’s hand is really warm, so you fail. “I need to resolve my deepest secret.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “What’s your deepest secret?”

You’re going to bite off your tongue. And when Dean says your name again, his voice a little rougher, it drags your eyes open to stare at him. Watching you with a focus you can feel in your bones, that’s prying the truth out of you, and he’s just looking at you and you can’t do this-

“Dean, I-“ You digs your nails into your skin, something flashes in his eyes, and you can’t look away. But you can’t stop yourself either, and if you have to watch Dean’s disgust, that might kill you right here. “Please turn around.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I need you to turn around.” You whisper. “Please.”

He nods slowly, twisting away from you, and it’s like a green light to your stupid, traitorous mouth. The words fall out of you like vomit, and if this is the end, at least it might be fast. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop, and I don’t want to stop, and I love you. Only you. Just you. Can’t remember how to love anyone else, because I love you. I love your jokes and your grumpiness and how protective you are because you make me feel safe, and I love that you’re kind of a dork and a loser but you’re also so hot, I love your voice and your face and your hands, and I and I want you in a, um-“ You squeeze your thighs together, staring at the suddenly rapid rise and fall of Dean’s back. “A way that I shouldn’t talk about-“

“How do you want me.” He grunts, his voice low and a little gruff, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

“On me.” You whisper. “In me. I want you on my face and in my hands and fuck, I want your inside of me. But I also want to wake up next to you and hold your hand and fall asleep in your lap, and fuck-“

You cut yourself off with a whine as something sharp hits your right in the heart, and Dean’s silent. He’s not turning around, or leaving, or doing anything but sitting and breathing for so long, for too long-

“You-“ He shakes his head slightly, and you could swear he’s leaning slightly backward. “You want me.”

“Yeah, I- yes.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.” Too late to go back now. “I love you, Dean.”

“Why- why didn’t you tell me?”

He sounds broken. He sounds sad.

You’re so confused. It’s almost enough to distract from the pain racking your whole body.

“I- I didn’t think you’d-“ Not care. Dean couldn’t not care. He cares too much. “I wasn’t sure what-“

“What I’d say?”

“What you’d do.”

“What would you-“ He’s definitely leaning back. He’s closer, too. “What would you want me to do?”

“What would I want?” 

Dean nods.

“I- it doesn’t matter-“

“Yes it-“ He sighs, twisting around to face you. You can’t read the expression on his face. It’s lost and it’s afraid and it’s… hopeful. There’s this small light that’s so deep in his eyes that seems like real, true hope. “Please,” he mutters your name, and you might be melting. “Just, entertain me. What would you want me to do?”

“I’d want to tell me you love me.” You whisper, and if this curse is going to kill you, you hope it does it now, right before you lose all your dignity forever. “Like I love you.”

Dean shakes his head slightly, and your heart might be splitting in half. “But I- I tried to kill you-“

“The demon tried to kill me. That wasn’t really you-“

“Yes, it was-“

“No.” Your voice gains a little strength, and you push up on your elbows. “You saved me, Dean. You rescued me from the angels-“

“Anyone would’ve done that-“

“But they didn’t.” You snap. “You did. And I don’t love anyone, I love you.”

“That’s-“ He groans, his voice growing hoarse. “You- why?”

“What do you mean, why-“

“Why would you love me? I mean, unless this is some sick, fucked up prank-“

“It’s not a prank-“

“Well why?” He shouts your name, and he looks distressed. Like this is shredding him apart. “Why the hell would you love me-“

“Because I like loving you.” You grab his hand, his own panic starting to set into your own body, making this all the worse. “It feels right. And I- I know you don’t love me-“

You’re not sure what’s happening. Dean’s hands are cupping your face, and his mouth is on yours, and he tastes like whiskey and coffee and pecan, and you feel okay. You really feel okay. All the pain and sickness is dissolving from your body, and Dean is kissing you. Kissing you with an unforgiving, demanding desperation, his tongue down your throat and his body lowering down over yours, pinning you to the bed as he groans against your lips.

The sound jumpstarts something in you. Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck right before he can pull away or hesitate, and you throw everything he’s silently offering you back to him. Biting on his lower lip and wrapping your legs around his torso, grinding up into him as he makes a deep, satisfied noise and moves one hand to wrap around you waist, holding you steady against him as he rises up, moving you to stay in his lap.

“You’re, shit.” Dean lets out a low chuckle, pressing a small, gentler kiss to the tip of your nose as you breathe in ragged time. “You’re such a fucking idiot, sweetheart.”

You lean back to frown at him. “No I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are. But I am too.” He sighs, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and speaking against your skin. “Seems like we’re made for each other, huh.”

“Dean, I-“

“Wait, just-“ Dean kisses up the column of your throat, ending right behind your ear, and his voice a low sound that falls right down into your core. “Gimme a second.”

“Dean-“

“Please,” he mutters, and when you pull back he looks nervous. It’s strange, but adorable, and you nod. He needs a second, you’ll give him a million. Anything to keep him here a little longer, to keep the ebb of the sickness going. 

“Okay.” You whisper, and—taking the biggest gamble of your life—lean forward to kiss him again. Just a light, almost innocent press of your lips to his. He tenses, his arms around you tightening, and you’d have panicked if it didn’t seem like he was clinging to you. Like he was afraid you were going to vanish. 

“I- uh,” Dean says your name slowly, and it’s odd. You’ve heard him say it exactly like that a million, but this feels deeper. Like a prayer. “I lo-“ He cuts himself off, his brow drawing tightly together, and you can feel your heart in your throat. Set to either explode or move into Dean as you hold your breath. “You. I- you- it’s- fuck.” He scowls, and you offer him your gentler smile, running a hand over the soft stubble on his jaw, even as you feel your blood start to go cold again.

“Dean, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah. I do, I-“ He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and speaking against them as if he’s trying to tell your body more than your mind. “I love you. A lot. So stop being cursed.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Did it work?”

It did. The curse seemed to vanish the moment Dean kissed you—like it knew that what he was trying to tell you before he even said it—but now the world is just color and light and Dean. It’s enchanting. He’s enchanting. He’s all genuine and powerful focus on you, and. worry that makes you feel warm, and love you can suddenly see everywhere on him. You don’t know how you missed it before, because it’s in his eyes and coating his lips and in every flex of his body around you. It would knock you down if he wasn’t holding you. 

“Yeah.” You smile at Dean, and his own mouth tugs up slightly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugs. “Any time. I, uh, sorry about getting pissed about you and Sam.“

“It’s fine, I-“ You paused, frowning at him. “Were you jealous?”

He scowls, his cheeks turning a little red. “Obviously.”

“Of Sam-“

“You were really close with him all the time.” Dean snaps. “And I- you seemed pissed at me, and super stressed, and usually you’d come to me for that stuff, but you were hugging Sam and talking to him instead of me-“

“Because I don’t love Sam. I love you, that’s why I told you-”

“I didn’t fucking know that.” He grumbles. “I- Sam doesn’t know everything about how I feel about you, but he knew enough, and I- I thought you were choosing him- And I- You’re not my girl but you felt like my girl and I didn’t-“

“Your girl?” Your face splits into a wide smile, and some of the tension seems to leave Dean as he nods. 

“Yeah. If you want.”

“Yes.” You squeak, and Dean’s hand starts to run slowly down your thigh. “Yes, please.”

“You sure?” He raises his brows, and it’s really hard to think when he’s so close, and this is suddenly overwhelmingly real. He’s really broad and warm against you, and he’s really touching you, and he said the thing but that doesn’t mean-

“Yeah, but are, are you sure-“

“Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He drawls, and you swallow as he leans in closer, his nose bumping yours. “And I’d be very happy to prove that.”

“Prove it?” You whisper, your eyes trapped onto his glimmering, darkened ones. “I, um, that, how-“

“However you’d like,” he says your name with a smirk, and it’s amazing how any all insecurity he had only a minute ago seems to have vanished. “You wanna tell me how’d you want me to prove it? Or do you need some suggestions?”

You might be drooling. “Suggestions, please.”

Dean hums, holding you carefully as he rises on his knees, bends you down onto the mattress, and starts to trace slow, taunting hands over your body.

“We could start slow,” he mutters, playing with the hem of your shorts, broad fingers brushing over your skin. “I could take my time with you, sweetheart. Do the proper thing, take you out to dinner and movie, wait until the third date to give you everything-“

“No!” You yelp. “Not slow-“

Dean’s hand slides under your shorts, his palm resting right over your already sore pussy, and he chuckles at your high gasp. 

“Alright, baby, not slow.” He leans down to pull you into a long, slow kiss, smirking against your lips as you start to grind into his hand. “But we’re going on a date. I’ve had years to plan it, wouldn’t want all my hard work to go to waste.”

You nod a little stupidly, your nails digging into his arm braced near your head. “How- what do you mean years-“

“You’re not the only one who had that at first sight thing.” Dean mutters, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve lost sleep over you, baby girl. We’re going to do this right, no witches involved, but,” he drops his head to kiss right behind your ear, humming as a high moan escapes your lips. “I’ve got a million things I want to do you, and fuck me if I’m going waste time not doing them.”

“Yeah, good, do that-“ You gasp as Dean’s thumb finds your clothed clit, starting to draw firm, fast circles around it. “Shit, Dean-“

“That’s my name.” He growls in your ear, flicking against you and smirking at your high whine. “C’mon, sweetheart gotta get you ready for me-“

“I, I’m ready-“

He chuckles. “No, you’re not. Wanna make you feel good, not break you.”

“What if, fuck-“ You feel a brief, sharp moment of cold air as Dean pulls your shorts and panties down, shoving two fingers into your cunt. He’s watching you so carefully, like he’s studying your every hitched breath and blurred gaze, smirking as he begins to slowly move inside of you, scissoring and crooking and pushing in deeper every time-

“What if what, pretty girl?” He teases, his pace increasing slightly. “Use your words.”

Your back arches off the bed as Dean re-angles his hand, pressing his palm to your clit and starting to rub strong, sharp circles as his fingers reach a blissful, almost painfully good pace, but remain too shallow to hit that sensitive spot deep your cunt and send you over the edge. “What if I want you to break me?” You gasp, your arm wrapping around his neck as he groans, dropping his brow against yours. “Please, Dean-“

“You, fuck-“ He grunts your name, and you feel something prodding at your inner thigh. “Not now, baby, need to be gentle-“

“No you don’t-“

“Yeah, I do.” Dean’s movements still as he rises on his knees over you, and you’re pretty certain the authoritative thing is supposed to be stern and intimidating, but it’s mostly just making you grind on his hand and reach up for him pathetically.

“Dean-“

“Listen to me.” He snaps, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the mattress, sighing as you moan again, squeezing around his fingers, still in your cunt. “Fuck, you nearly just died-“

“I’m okay now.” You whisper. “I feel great. I feel, fuck Dean, I feel so good-“

He hisses as you spread your legs, writhing on the bed for anything, at this point you’ll take anything Dean offers you-

“Fuck yeah, you do.” He mutters, his fingers starting to pump slowly again, scanning over your body with an almost awestruck expression. “Bet you feel like heaven, baby girl, but we need to go slow. I promise I can wreck you later, but today-“

“Slow.” You sigh, and he nods.

“Slow. But,” Dean’s free hand starts to trail under your shirt, palming at your breasts, rolling your nipples between calloused, strong fingers. “Doesn’t mean we can’t take care of you, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck this tight little pussy, still going to get you fucking cockdrunk. Okay?”

You nod, your eyes slightly glazed over, and Dean bends his fingers deep inside you, right one that spot, letting out a low gasp as you whine.

“Say okay, sweetheart.” He grunts, his hand moving from your breast, over your neck, to your mouth, pressing his thumb on your lower lip until it parts. You moan against him, your eyes fluttering slightly, and you’re already too high, too needy, to do anything but listen.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He coos, slowly pushing his thumb between your lips, his nostrils flaring when you start to suck on him with an abandon. “Fuck, so good, I can’t wait to ruin you, baby, you’re never gonna even think about another cock-“

You haven’t thought about another cock in years, and you haven’t even seen it yet. But Dean’s thumb is bumping the back of your throat, so all you can do is moan, give him your best pleading look, and let your head fall back as Dean’s fingers finally move inside of you, pushing and playing on the spot until your orgasm washes over you in bright waves of good. So good. Just, fuck, he’s good-

Dean’s thumb pulls out of your mouth with a pop, and he wipes a little bit of spit off on your upper lip before lowering his mouth to yours, this kiss far too soft and gentle for how you think you might die if he doesn’t fuck you now.

“Look so pretty, cumming on my hand.” Dean moves to the shell of your ear, his growling promise sending a shiver up your spine. “Bet you’ll look prettier fucking squeezing my cock.”

You barely have time to whimper when Dean yanks his fingers out of your cunt, rolls you over so you’re straddling his torso, and raises you up by your hips before pushing you right down onto his dick. You don’t even remember when he took off his pants, or where your shirt went, but those are worries for someone who isn’t being split open on Dean’s cock. Who doesn’t have him drawing small circles on their inner thigh, or isn’t being held up by his hand on their waist.

But you do. You have Dean everywhere, real and warm under your hands as you grip his shoulders, bumping deep against your cervix as he lets you adjust to the size of him, one broad finger reaching down to press—light and taunting—on your clit, and groaning as you squeeze around him.

“Shit,” Dean grunts your name, looking up at you under hooded eyes in a way you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you before. As if you’re somewhere they’d always expected to be, and they’re still in awe that you’re there. “Gotta be careful, want this to-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you grind on him experientially, clenching again as he hits that electric spot deep inside you. He grabs you firm by your hips, stilling your every movement as he gives you a stern glower. 

“You need to listen.” His voice is gravely and lower than you’ve ever heard it, and you’d do whatever he told you to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t whine and scratch lightly at his chest. 

“Dean, move-“

“You gonna listen?”

“Yes, just, fuck-“ You gasp as he pulls you up with barely a grunt, slamming your right back down with a roll of your hips. 

“Want you to feel good, baby girl, but you need to be careful,” Dean drags one had down to squeeze your ass, his hand still on your waist drawing light circles around your clit. “Or next time might be more than wrecking.”

Your moan is vulgar and shameless, and you’re more than ready to devote sleep to figuring out what more than wrecking will look like, but right now you just fucking need this. 

“Need more, Dean,” you whisper. “Need it so bad-“

“I know, sweetheart.” He mutters, trailing his hand up your stomach to squeeze your breast, groaning when you squirm around him. “Think you’re ready to ride this cock? Think you can handle, shit-“

You’d stared to move the movement he’d said ride, rolling your body and arching your back, dragging every bit of confidence you have to grind down onto Dean’s cock, your nails sinking into his abdomen.

“Fuck, yeah.” Dean’s voice is a breath under you, and when you scan over him, he lookslike he’sa little wrecked himself.His eyes on yours are hooded and low, his voice dripping with that same dominating confidence, but something more delicate in the way he’s touching you. Not as if he’s afraid to break you, but afraid you’ll shatter him. 

And you did that. You wrecked Dean. And that lights a wildfire in your gut, running through your nerves until they’re sensitive and bare, and into your brain until it’s all just Dean.

You start to move. Slowly at first to test the waters, but—when Dean just groans and ruts up into you—quickly picking up pace until you’re bouncing on Dean’s cock, your thighs squeezing his torso and your clit rubbing on his abdomen, his ever grunt and hiss and bruising grip just making your need grow bigger as you slam him onto that deep spot-

“Shit, I’m- Slow down-“ 

Dean’s hiss is low, and you immediately obey, changing to long, slow movements as Dean hums. 

“There you go baby, such a good girl.” His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, rubbing soothing patterns as he praises you. “You’re so hot baby, fucking ruined on my cock-“

You make a high, breathless sound you don’t recognize, moving your hips in a circle to try and chase more friction, and Dean chuckles.

“You alright up there-“

“Good,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut to try and focus your all on Dean beneath you. “So good, Dean, feels so good-“

“Need a little more?”

“Yes-“

“More descriptive than that, sweet girl.” He teases, and when this is done, you’re going to kill him. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to-“

“You,” the word falls out without thought, because most of you belongs to Dean. “Just you, only need you-“

“You love me?” Dean’s voice is low, and when you open your eyes to look at him, there’s a small chink in his armor. You don’t know if you pried it open, or if you’ve just never noticed, but you can see right into him, and he still doesn’t really believe that you love him.

And that’s the only thing you’ve ever really know. You loving Dean has been the only truly certain thing in your life, because Dean’s a given and loving him feels like breathing.

So you smile at him, reaching forward to cup his face, and tell him with everything you have, hoping he can hear how the words are in time with your heart.

“I love you,” you whisper. “And I’m yours.”

He blinks at you, shaking his head slightly even as his dick twitches inside you. “You don’t need to be, it’s- you know, dirty talk-“

“I know.” You shrug. “I’m still yours.”

Dean’s nostrils flare, and you know you’re not getting control back from him for the rest of the night.

You’re fine with that. Dean starts to rock you back and forth around him, letting you just fall into and around him, and your lost to any world that isn’t Dean. Isn’t his hand splayed on your lower back or his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and ass. Anything that isn’t his cock hitting part of you that you didn’t know existed and filling you up so much you’re not sure how you’re ever going to manage being empty again.

You don’t think you will have to manage. Dean’s holding you like he’s trying to brand himself on your body, like he needs you feel him for the rest of your life. And you will. You’ll feel the bliss Dean’s drawing from your body that’s better than any heaven you could have imagined, rising slowing below the surface, ready to burst at any moment.

You’ll hear him too. Hear every deep noise of his own pleasure, hear the slapping of his skin on yours, hear his low praise echo around your head and ribs for the rest of your life.

“You’re mine, baby girl.” He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest and rolling right into your pussy, making you throw your head back with a breathy whimper. “Fuck, you’re so hot riding me, feel so good around me, tight and warm-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you reach behind your body, your hand finding his balls to squeeze lightly. 

“Goddamnit, sweetheart-“ He groans, jerking slightly inside of you. “Fuck, keep doing that, so fucking needy for me, fucking soaking this cock-“

You grind around him, and his pace starts to lose rhythm. Even after he swats your hand away you know he’s lost his own self-control, and fuck he looks hot without it. Starting to rut up into you in uncontrolled movements, pulling you to pieces with a lustful, ardorous gaze and brutal pace and strong hands, moving back to your clit and rolling it between his fingers-

Your mouth falls open in a silent, needy cry of pleasure as your orgasm bursts over you. It’s not sudden, but you couldn’t never anticipated the power of it—like someone had doused you in gasoline that smells like whiskey and fruit, lit a match, and turned to into a star—or how it rides on and on, never seeming to crest or crash as Dean slams home inside of you, warmth coating your pussy and running down your thighs as he moans your name. 

Dean helps you float down to earth, leaving careful, deliberate touches on your skin and humming as his knees rising up to support you. You watch his gaze rakes down your body, lingering on where he can see himself spill out of your pussy, and moves to slowly drag through the mess, gathering some on two fingers before rising them up to your mouth. You open without hesitation and his throat bobs, his cock twitching inside you as you lick his release off his hand, your eyes never leaving his wide, reverent one.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters. “How the hell did I get so lucky?”

You let out a soft laugh. “You stole my line.”

“Nah.” He shrugs, tracing a hand over your cheek. “You could have anyone you want, baby, but you’re here, with an asshole like me-“

“You’re not an asshole.”

“Yeah, I am.” He shrugs, like you can’t see how his own words pierce him through that chink. “Shit, I just accused you of sleeping with Sam-“

“And I’ve been lying to you for years.” You lean down, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your widest smile. “Neither of us are saints, Dean. And I happen to be the right kind of fucked up to let possessiveness hot.” You pause, giving him your best stern glare. “To a degree. I will slap you the next time you accuse me of fucking Sam.” 

Dean laughs, his around wrapped—gentle and relaxed—around you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You hum, resting your head to the side, and you might be here for a hundred years. Time blurs and slows until it’s just Dean’s heartbeat near your ear, his thumb tracing a pattern on your arm, and his face buried in your hair. The end of the world might have already come to pass when his hand moves to your chin and he angles your gaze to his, and you wouldn’t really care. You’re still where you need to be.

“Would you,” he lets out a slow breath, all his cocky arrogance gone, his eyes on yours nervous. The hope is back, but it’s wrapped in soft fear. “I’m not good at- shit-“

He’s going to hurt himself, and you take pity on him. You lean does to press a sweet kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue trail over his lips, and rising back up with a small smile.

“Can we go on a date, Dean?” 

He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. Whatever you want, baby girl.”

Your smile strains at your cheeks, because you only want Dean. 

And you’ll have to write Rowena a thank you note, because you finally have him.

End Note: Me make a story with no prior lore challenge: impossible

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007

[gloomysoup]

he's probably worried (not hiding anymore)

@steddiebingo christmas card prompt: secret relationship

rating: teen+ | word count: 717 | tags: post-s3, post- starcourt, coming out | ao3

The air is filled with red-orange flames and smoke as the mall burns to the ground in front of him. His head is still spinning, face throbbing, and he can barely breathe. The adrenaline is starting to fade, and Steve’s injuries are making themselves known. He stands side-by-side with Robin, neither of them saying a word. Everything has changed. Neither of them will ever be the same person they once were.

Steve has a fleeting thought that Eddie must be worried. It's gone just as soon as it was there when the paramedics are ushering them into the ambulance and taking them to the hospital.

Everything is a blur of sirens and lights, Robin’s hand in his, a shock blanket around his shoulders. Doctors and bright lights, wires and beeping machines. He gets set up in a room for monitoring. Robin is okay. The kids are okay. Everyone is okay.

Steve doesn't even register what's happening when the nurse says they're going to call his emergency contact. His brain still feels a little fuzzy, even if things are starting to become clearer.

Everyone is gathered in Steve’s room. Robin and Dustin are sitting at the end of the bed, on either side of his legs. Robin refuses to leave his side. Steve is thinking about Eddie again.

Steve is late for dinner. He's probably so worried.

There's heavy footsteps in the hallway, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. The door flies open, and a head of curls stumbles into the room. Eddie’s eyes find Steve’s quickly, wild and full of fear and concern. He quickly crosses the room, pulling Steve into a tight hug. The room falls silent around them.

“Christ, Steve, I was so worried about you,” Eddie whispers, his voice tight like he's trying not to cry. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I'm okay, promise. Just a little banged up, that's all.”

Eddie sucks in a very shaky breath, not letting go of Steve. “You're not allowed to scare me like that anymore, asshole. I can't handle it.”

“I'll do my best. How'd you even know I was here?”

Eddie pulls back, his hands resting on the sides of Steve’s face. “The hospital called Wayne.”

The door opens again, and there's Wayne. Steve notes that he looks tired, but the older man smiles when his gaze lands on Steve.

“Glad to see you're still kickin’, kid,” he says, the worry washing away from his face.

“Sorry, Wayne, can't get rid of me that easy,” Steve says with a grin that pulls at his cuts and bruises. Wayne barks a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“What the hell is going on?” Dustin says, finally finding his voice.

Eddie's eyes go wide as he suddenly seems to realize they are not alone in the room. Steve grabs Eddie’s hand with a smile and gives it a squeeze. Then he clears his throat and looks at Dustin.

"Wayne is my emergency contact,” he explains. “Has been for a little while now. I've, uh… kinda been staying with them from time to time.”

Dustin frowns, his eyebrows knit together. “But… why?”

Steve glances at Eddie, squeezing his hand again. He takes a deep breath. It's now or never. “Eddie is… my boyfriend.”

It's the first time he's said the words out loud. It's the first time they put an actual label on what they are, what they truly mean to each other. They've been boyfriends for a little while now, but they never actually talked about it. There was always so much sneaking around and secrets and keeping it under wraps. They were both scared.

Not anymore.

Steve isn't scared to hide Eddie away from his friends, from his family. The people who truly matter. Not when Eddie has never been scared of hiding him from Wayne, his family. He's done being scared, because he knows there's so many scarier things out there. He knows that monsters are real, and he knows it'll take a lot more than a boyfriend to run off his monster hunting family.

So he smiles at Eddie, and he calls him boyfriend. Because that's what he is. He's Steve’s boyfriend, and he loves him.

He's done keeping that a secret from the people who have always had his back, despite what they've been through.

[thomaslittlegirl]

hello love! i hope you are doing very well:) i just read some of your first and they were so cute! unfortunately i have been in the mood for SOME ANGST lol! would you potentially be able to write a fic where something happened to reader and she got hurt (level of severity is up to you) and like tommy is obviously freaking out over it. idk what's wrong with me but i love angst 😔 if you don't feel comfortable i totally understand and have a wonderful day:)

thank you for your sweet words! 🩷 i wrote this in half an hour, so i hope it's at least not that horrible? hope you like it.

sickness. thomas shelby

warnings; angst. thomas blames himself, as always.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

thomas can't help but feel suffocated seeing you like this. it seems that the walls begin to close and collapse on top of him, preventing him from breathing.

your figure lies on the bed, wrapped in the neat white sheets while your body does not stop shaking violently.

it hurts him to see you this way. hurts because there is no one to blame for your discomfort, no one to blame for your suffering. all he can do is watch yourself in silence and wait for this to pass quickly.

thomas looks at you pitifully as he swallows hard.

the sound of the maid's heels echoing across the wooden floor makes him put on guard. the woman comes almost stumbling, with a tray in her arms. "here it is, sir." she says, in a low voice.

she goes into the room y/n and thomas both share and leaves the plates on the desk.

"thank you, frances." he replies. "i want you to be attentive to any call that me or my girl makes." maid nods and leaves the room, closing the door after her. the annoying sound of heels moving away.

thomas walks over to the bed, squatting down next to you. "doll..." he calls, stroking your hair.

a whimper escapes your mouth and thomas licks his lips, watching you intently; you are pale, your lips cracked.

"what?" you ask in a whisper.

"frances brought you soup." he informs, continuing the caresses on your head. "i want you to eat some."

"im not hungry."

"just a little. try it... it'll warm you up a little." he tries to persuade in vain. you shake your head; thomas stare at the dark circles in your eyes.

shelby look at how your body shakes. it doesn't matter how many sheets you have around you, the spasms don't stop.

his head is a torment, thousands of good-for-nothing thoughts flooding his brain. he collects all the bad omens he knows, like black cats and broken mirrors... everything that could have happened for you to reach this moment.

thomas can't help but think and blame himself. it is not the first time this has happened, it is not the first time that his bad luck and his destiny bring him to this point.

he can't lose you, not you. not again... not when he is thorough when giving you gifts, not when he makes sure to protect you with his life.

why does everything he loves come to this point? does everything he touches have to slowly fade away?

he doesn't realize he's crying until he feels your thin fingers wipe the corners of his eyes, brushing the tears away from his face.

"i'll get better." you try to calm him down, he's not so sure.

he knows the multiple opinions of all the doctors he brought to check you, all of them giving a different diagnosis but none of them making you feel better... everything you can possibly have.

"you promise...?" he asks, looking at your tired face.

"i..." nothing. "just hold me, please." you ask in return, running back a little to make room for him on the bed next to you.

thomas crawls under the sheets with you and wraps you in his arms, holding you close to his chest.

as if love could save.

[afinestoutlove]

things i love about heartstopper 41/?

Charlie and Tao's friendship is so great (I mean all of these friendships are, I'll get to the others, don't worry!). It can be so hard to have friendships with straight guys when you're queer, because (heteronormative) masculinity is a prison. But Tao Xu says "fuck your heteronormativity I do what I want".

"People might think you gave me the hickey if you keep this up." "So? Might help to deflect the rumours." ('Heat')

And yeah, Tao's a disaster and Charlie's a mess, and they both fail to communicate, and self-sabotage, and fuck things up, but they love each other through all of it. And, another thing that's so hard for men to do (especially straight men), they tell each other how much they love each other. They always show each other. There's never any (real) doubt.

No matter what happens, these two beautiful disasters are here for each other and I just love their friendship so much you guys.

And a quick bonus thought prompted by a (joking) reply to yesterday's post...

Someone commented "Charlie's cheating on Nick nooo" and yeah I get that it was a funny. BUT it prompted an important addition to this post. It's really common for people to view the kind of friendship Charlie and Tao have as a kind of threat to their romantic partnership, but Charlie dgaf (and neither does Nick because he's a good person and trusts both Charlie and Tao). Not only that, but Nick values Charlie's friendship with Tao, and likes Tao because of it. This is so wonderful to see, so much healthier than what we usually get.

Our culture is so fucking weird about romantic relationships, placing them on a pedestal above others, but a really important part of Charlie and Tao's story is learning to balance their romantic relationships and their friendships - and to make space for each other's needs as well (Tao's jealousy in S1 isn't expressed in the most constructive way...). They both learn not to neglect their friends - including each other - and also to communicate around those issues more. I love seeing this and, like so much in the Osemanverse, I wish we had more of it in the world.

[shinningdance]

No Mercy

Chapter 4

You lift your head to meet espresso brown eyes, which soften the moment they land on your face. Not even a second later he flashes you the most beautiful smile.

And this is man is a soldier and not a model, correct? 100%? okay...just making sure.

He offers you his hand and speaks with a voice that reminds you of honey. "Sergeant Kyle Garrick, call me Kyle or Gaz, whatever you prefer."

After a small pause where you just eye his hand, seriously he could be a hand model, you take his hand and lock eyes with him once more.

"Nice to meet you, Gaz" Callsign, no need to get friendly if you're going to leave after the mission is over. "Not to be rude but is there a reason you're here? I was told i would meet you all after unpacking..."

"I wanted a head start, because tomorrow a very determined Scot will hog you from the rest of us." A small chuckle escapes his lips as speaks, he seems to be fond of the Scot. "I promise you'll get used to him and he's not the biggest pain in the ass."

Now a chuckle leaves your lips, that small action making his smile wider. "Only i can be the judge of that...anything else i need to know about tomorrow?"

"Not really, but if he really starts to annoy you, look at me and wink, i'll save you." Gaz smirks and leans against your door frame, getting a small glimpse of your room.

"How charming, I'll remember that."

Just as he opens his mouth, his phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket and frowns at the name. "Speak of the devil..." He mumbles and looks back at you, holing one finger up and mouthing the words 'One second'. "What do you want."

You simply nod and admire his features, sharp jaw, beautiful and healthy hair, those arms.

"Sorry about that.." Gaz hums and puts his phone away with a sigh "But it looks like i have to leave..you got a phone?"

Wordlessly you pull yours out and unlock it, he snatches it and immediately puts in his number.

"See you tomorrow!" He shouts as he jogs down the hall.

In a matter of minutes this handsome guy introduces himself to you and you get his number, without being dresses up.

You're tempted to just delete his number. You're not here to make friends and certainly not for anything romantically. But this mission will take a few months..and you can always throw away your phone after the mission when you get back to your normal life.

Yeah, that's the plan, get the mission done with a friend and then ghost them.

Not like you'll get attached to him, or any of them.

...

...

...Right?

Sleeping in new places is always a bit hard. You never know if somebody dangerous is near or if there's something happening you aren't aware of. Even if this new team is on your side, you never know if somebody is going to betray you. Maybe there's a spy not even this elite team is aware of.

After tossing and turning in your bed for nearly ten minutes you finally grab your phone, checking the time. 1:13am. Good 5 hours of sleep left until you meet the rest, you really shouldn't go there barely awake but you just can't sleep.

With a heavy sigh you stand up, abandoning the warm blanket and bed. You walk to the door and open it slowly, peeking you head out to look. No one there, every light turned off and absolut silnce.

Time for a midnight snack.

Carefully you make your way down the hall to find the small kitchen you were told about. It was fairly easy to find it, given the fact you haven't been here longer than 5 hours.

Opening the small fridge you look for something good to eat. Lots of ingredients and little to no finished snacks. With a satisfied hum you grab the most appealing thing from the fridge, a small yogurt.

"Think i caught a little thief in our kitchen"

A low voice appears behind you. How did you not notice someone coming, or was he already here before you?

You turn around to face a very tall hulk of a man, all black clothing showing no skin which makes you feel exposed with your short sleeves. Not only was he not showing skin, he's also wearing a skull-patterned balaclava, only showing his dark eyes which are fixed on the treat in your hands.

"I can share if you want a bite?"

You offer with a small hum, tilting your head ever so slightly. The man only raises his eyebrow at your words, atleast you think he did, it's hard to see with that stupid mask on his face.

"No? Fine, more for me.." You shrug and open a drawer, getting a small spoon and opening the yogurt. With a small smile you guide the spoon to your mouth, enjoying the delicious food.

The unknown man opens the fridge, not sparring you a glance as he grabs a yogurt for himself.

"Also midnight snack?"

You ask and continue to eat, but also glancing at the insane amount of muscles this man has. Does he live in the gym or what?

"Something like that." he grunts and grabs his own spoon, but he doesn't it eat it. He just walks away, with the food and spoon.

Weirdo.

But hey, no judging. You used to be like that.

While eating you can't help but think about this unknown man, where do you know him from? He kinda reminds you of Pitch Black, the villain of Rise of the Guardians. Both edgy but kinda hot.

After finishing your midnight snack you make your way back to your temporarily barrack, laying back down in the comfort of your bed you close your eyes.

Dreamland is already waiting for you.

a/n: like always, it's not proofread... (´- `*)

[jellymochii]

Passionfruit

°🥂⋆ pairings: aeri uchinaga x fem!reader

°🥂⋆ genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers, wlw

°🥂⋆ cw: smut, cunnulingus, mentions of alcohol

°🥂⋆ wc: 2.3k

↪author's note: guess who's back with more aespa wlw hehehe >:), hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

To truly be alive is to make the most of every day and live each day like it's your last. That's been your motto for the past 5 years since you graduated college.

You ended up on what you'd call a dead end office job–boring, mundane, and tedious. Well, at least it paid the bills, right?

To say you missed the lively experience of college was an understatement. Non-stop partying on the weekends with all your sorority girls, jello shots all around, even the hangovers before school the next morning–it was exactly the life you loved so much.

And so, every Friday night after work you'd escape your dull 9-5 and life like your youth was on repeat all over again. Nothing could compare to the dazzling show of lights and upbeat music to release you from your fears.

It's at one of these parties where you meet your ride or die best friend, Aeri.

What started out as seeing a pretty pink haired girl standing in the corner of a club with a red solo cup quickly turned into bar hopping on the weekends with her. You always knew that she'd be there dancing and partying alongside you, no matter how bad the hangover would be the next day.

You'd say that you knew each other fairly well–after all, you both shared intimate secrets about your life and office horror stories while drinking too many shots of tequila at a V.I.P. couch. You knew that she too had a job she despised as a CEO’s assistant and retreated regularly on the weekends at the clubs alongside you, and that her only close friend besides you was her dog. What you never seemed to know, however, was her love life. You'd ramble on while tipsy about your ex-boyfriends constantly–but Aeri never seemed to have any expert advice to give you, other than saying “That's why men suck, girl.” to you. But hey, at least she was right–men do suck.

That's how you felt, at least this weekend. Your friend with benefits had ghosted you entirely, and the only swipes you seemed to get on dating apps were pervy old men wanting a younger girl. Gross.

Oh well, at least you could talk to Aeri about your woes over some Pink Whitney tonight–and hopefully forget that shit ever happened.

—--

Chat Log With: Aeri🤞💕

You: Heyyy wyd tonight

Riri: Not much, wbu?

You: Hopefully going out tonight, wanna come?

Riri: Duhhhh babe

You: Sweet! Any places in mind?

Riri: Well there's this new place in town called Passionfruit that everyone keeps raving about, wanna check it out?

You: For sure. 8 as usual?

Riri: Yep! I'll send the addy, don't be late ;)

—-------------

You followed the directions your GPS gave you and ended up in the somewhat run-down part of town, no signs of life in sight. You were a little bit scared hopping out of your car, hoping no one would hop out of the bushes and attack you–but your worries quickly vanished as you heard a familiar voice.

“HEYYYY! Y/N, OVER HERE!” Aeri shouted across the street, waving her arm frantically to get your attention.

You quickly dashed across the street to meet her at the doors of the club. There seemed to be no indication that this was a party of any sorts–no LED lights or bass booming music coming from inside.

“Soooo is this one of those underground places?” You asked, your attention on the seemingly deserted looking lobby.

“I guess so, let's just go in and make sure this isn't some lame ass attorney’s office.” She replied, opening the door and letting the both of you in.

The lobby was bare, repping only a bland white wall and a desk with a flower on it. What did catch your attention, however, was the large man standing by the club entrance glaring at the two of you.

“ID's, please.” The large man demanded, causing both of you to fummel through your purses and hand your IDs to him. He checks them very intently before silently handing them back and nodding, opening the door for the two of you.

The club inside was vibrant, with iridescent purple and red lights dazzled by disco balls scattered around the ceiling. The bar was packed and the pool tables were swarmed with cheers from all sides. Girls were all over the dance floor with each other, drinks in hand and someone's tit in the other. Normally the few women making out with each other in the corner wouldn't pay you mind, but something seemed off.

Wow…there's a LOT of women in here, you thought.

“Hey Aeri…where's the hot guys?” You asked.

“I dunno, they must be - ohhhh. Whoops.” She replied, causing you to raise your brow at her.

“Whaddya mean whoops? Is this a–” You cut off your speech after quickly realizing that this was not, in fact, a normal club.

“Oh, so that's why there's no men.” You answered.

“Sorry girl, I didn't know this was that kinda club.” She replied.

“Eh, it's whatever. As long as there's enough tequila for the two of us.” You responded, ushering Aeri to the now less packed bar.

The rest of the night went surprisingly fun. You and Aeri met a lot of different girls, some single and some with their girlfriends–both the single and taken ones seemed to be interested in you both. Seriously, you'd never gotten this much attention in your life. Girls were swarming to call you “sexy” and “hot mama” just as much as they were to Aeri. To be honest, normally, you'd just laugh it off, but the alcohol in your joint systems made you both flirt back.

“You know what?” Aeri turns to you, “This shit is awesome. This place is my new lesbian paradise.”

Wait, what'd she say?

“What do you mean lesbian paradise?” You ask.

She freezes in place, almost like she turned herself right in.

“Uhhh nothing, forget about it, let's just go dance!” She says hurriedly, grabbing your hand and rushing you to the dance floor.

For the next few minutes you had the time of your life, though still wondering what Aeri meant earlier. The music began to slow into a cheesy love ballad as women intertwined with each other in a slow embrace.

The two of you stood there awkwardly at first, but as you watched the fiery room of passion igniting around you–it clicked.

Aeri liked women too.

Not like she'd be any less of your friend, but a lot of things were starting to make sense–like how she felt strangely at home here and never indulged you with her own stories of men. Your head began to spin as butterflies filled your stomach. You wondered if maybe–she thought you were pretty too?

Well, you were gonna find out, no matter how drunk you were.

“Wanna dance?” You asked, sincerity in your voice.

“Wait..for real? It's ok we don't have to-” You cut off her speech by dragging her to the center and embracing her close.

“Y'know…” You spoke. “...It's cool that you like girls. It must be nice never having to deal with pussy ass men.”

“Wait, who told you I liked girls? I never said-” You pressed your finger over her mouth and shushed her. “It's kinda obvious, silly. I still love ya tho~!” You giggled cheerfully.

A smile rose on her face as her head rested on your shoulder.

“Sooo is it fun kissing girls?” You asked, earning a chuckle from Aeri.

“Yeah, way better than men.” She replied.

“Y'know, I’ve always wanted to know what it's like to kiss a girl. Katy Perry swears it's awesome.” You said. “Maybe I should ask that hot ass masc over there to gimme a smooch.”

“I wouldn't if I were you.” Aeri replied.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause she's a regular here from what the bartender said, she might have STDs or something from all the girls she's slept with.” She replied, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, so, can I kiss you then?” You asked.

“W-w…what?”

“So can I? I really need to kiss a girl Aeri, I need to know if it's better than kissing a man. Help a girl out, please?” You pleaded.

She could tell you were being dead serious despite your now drunken nature. You'd never been this direct with anyone, let alone her. She'd been dreaming of kissing you for God knows how long now, but never said anything because she knew about all the guys you dated.

“Alright.” she sighed, almost contently. “Pucker up, baby.”

And so your lips locked with hers. They were so warm and yet so soft and plump, you felt like you were on Cloud 9. You never wanted to stop, so you didn't. Even if Aeri pulled back slightly out of anxiety, you swooped right back in, ravishing her cherry chapstick flavored lips.

“Why don't we go somewhere more private, ‘kay?” She asked. You nodded, the two of you scurrying through the crowd towards the women's single stall bathroom.

—-----------

The bathroom you and Aeri rushed into was run down and filled with graffiti–but it didn't matter at this point, you needed her.

As she locked the door behind you two, the heated making out resumed once again as she firmly grasped your waist to pull you in and feel your body closer to hers. You, of course, with your liquid courage, decided to go straight for her breasts– and dear god, they were so supple and soft. How have you been missing out on this your whole life?

Your hands roamed her entire body, from the soft skin on her neck to her firm and supple ass. It had never occurred to you truly how gorgeous her body really was, but you felt glad nonetheless to touch her as your tongues collided roughly.

You bit down on her bottom lip, earning a soft moan from her–which sparked something in you.

You wanted her, badly.

“Aeri…c-can I touch you?” You whispered, slowly pulling away from the kiss and gazing deep into her eyes.

“Fuck, I mean… if you want to–but don't feel pressured obviously.” She muttered. You could tell she wanted this almost as badly as you did, but her worries still seeped through the drinks in her system. You'd never kissed a girl before today, let alone pleasured one.

And yet, you felt more ready than ever.

“Hop up on the sink for me--kay’?” You asked, nudging her towards the counter of the bathroom faucets.

“You sure, babe? You don't have to just to make me happy, I promise.” She added, leaning up against the counter and pushing her weight against it.

“Yeah, I'm sure.” You replied.

“Girl, you're drunk as shit.” She giggled, now sat on top of the sink, fingers fiddling with the hem of her skirt and panties.

Your hand assisted her in sliding off her coverings, giving you a full view of her now bare soaking cunt face view to you.

You'd never done this before clearly, but something inside of you couldn't resist even if you tried. Her pussy was glistening right before your eyes–begging to be tasted and worshipped. Besides, who were you to deny her?

Your second thoughts seceded the moment your tongue delicately ran up her slit, causing a whimper to come from Aeri's mouth. She tasted so sweet and yet so warm–your senses were flooded.

You swiftly swiped your tongue across her soaking cunt, swirling around her poor swollen clit. Aeri cried out at the sensations of you ravaging her as she desperately tried stimulating her clit on the tip of your nose, while you moved down to fuck her starving hole with your tongue.

“F-fuuuuck Y/N, just like ngh…that.” Aeri moaned, almost desperately. All you could think about in this state was how pretty she looked with her eyes rolled back as you ravished her. Maybe she'd look even prettier when she came.

And so you decided to speed up the process, sliding your two center fingers into her greedy hole, earning a loud and drawn-out moan from her. God, she was so wet–and all for you. You quickly found your steady pace as Aeri bit her lip and threw her head back in pleasure–but you didn't want her to stay quiet. You wanted to hear every melodic moan that came out of her. You quickened the pace at which you were sliding in and out of her–taking notice of the involuntary squeezing of her walls around your digits.

The drinks in your system couldn't compare to how drunk you were off her pussy right now. Every thought in your head was now turned into a haze as all your senses were focused entirely on the divine goddess in front of you. You could tell by the desperation in Aeri's cries for you that she was close–and you were gonna milk every last drop out of her.

“Mmmm~fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don't stop Y/N!” She moaned, her thighs now tightening around your head.

Your lips latched onto her clit in response and sucked harshly as your fingers trusted in and out of her at a newly fast pace. The pressure around your head increased as you felt Aeri's body begin to violently shudder. Your eyes peeked up to see her eyes rolled up to the heavens accompanied by her cries of pleasure.

“Holy shit–I'm cumming I'm cummi–oh, fuck~!” She shouted as waves of pleasure flooded her entire body–causing her cunt to leak creamy white liquid. You licked her entire pussy up and down, leaving not a single spot uncleaned as you took all of her juices in.

You looked up at her now disheveled figure as your eyes met, a smile crept up on both of your faces.

“Yeah, ok, I'm never going back to men.” You chuckled.

“You didn't have to do that, Y/N.” Aeri spoke.

“I really wanted to, though.”

“You were a natural, Y/N.” She giggled.

“Let's go back to my place. Wanna come back next week, same time?” You asked.

“Definitely.”

[satureja13]

Oh my, Jeb and Jack are still cleaning up the mess from the New Year's fires! Even the bear rug got destroyed. The Little Ones are devastated. It was so fluffy! Now they have to sleep on Jack's old blanket again... Ji Ho: "Can I borrow Jack for a while?" The Little Ones: 'No! We want our meadow back - clean - now!' But none of the Boys understands them, so Jeb just said: "Sure."

Meanwhile at the bridge. Sai is still working overtime to get these droid scanners running. Vlad is his assistant this time. Good thing is that now each of them gets to learn some programming skills. Kiyoshi: "Can I borrow Vlad for a while?" Malfoy: "Booook!" Skully: "Sure!" Sai sighed. He really wants to get a grip on Tiny Can soon to stop the Therapy Game before it can do any harm. He checks the reviews on a regular base and there are still no negative ones. But it's just a matter of time, right? People in need could get hurt! But they are still in the orbit of Batuu and Skully and Malfoy are watching the bridge. No need they both have to be here on duty. Maybe Skully is a better captain than he is anyway. Bringing peace to a planet and freeing B.D by just sitting in jail wasn't his best performance... (Don't be so hard on yourself Sai! <3 You did so well!)

Ji Ho and Kiyoshi took Vlad and Jack over to Moogie's Bar. To the Game Room upstairs.

Jack: "Oh you made us a little Star Wars corner!"

Kiyoshi: "That's not all. Turn off the lights and sit down." Jack: "By the gods!" Vlad: "How wonderful."

Kiyoshi: "We don't get to see much of space while we're traveling in subspace. But when we have the chance to, there's no decent place to enjoy it, so Ji Ho and I thought this would be a good idea." Jack: "This is the best idea! It's so amazing!" Jack nudged Vlad who wasn't able to react properly because he was too shocked and astonished Ji Ho would do something this - affectionate - for him. Vlad was just able to say: "Thank you." Kiyoshi placed even some drinks and snacks for them. Kiyoshi: "Enjoy the view." And then Ji Ho and Kiyoshi left. Jack called after Kiyoshi: "I will so thank you later, my beloved mate!" Kiyoshi laughed: "Can't wait!"

After Ji Ho and Kiyoshi left, Vlad said: "It's utterly amazing. I can't believe how beautiful it is." Jack: "Don't tell me. Tell Ji Ho." ... Vlad thought it's best to change the subject. He's too overwhelmed. Ji Ho gave him the stars... Vlad: "I'm so happy for you, Jack. Sai is worried but you've grown so much. Both of you. You will be fine." Jack: "This means a lot to me." Vlad: "I love you." Jack: "I know."

But Jack won't let Vlad off the hook that easily. Jack: "Why are you holding back, hm? He even managed to love you. Nothing is holding you back anymore. Why do you keep yourself from being happy with him?"

Vlad: "Ji Ho is wasted on me, Jack. He's so pure and beautiful. I can't taint him."

Jack: "That sounds stupid - and a little hot ^^' " Vlad: "Omg, Jack!" Jack: "What? 'Uhhh - taint me, Vlad!' That's hot!" Vlad snorted out a laugh: "You're really the worst!" How is Jack always able to light the mood with one stupid sentence?

Jack: "You are my best friend. Do you think I would chose someone minor for this position? No. Neither would Ji Ho pick someone minor for the love-of-his-life position. Trust us, hm? Forget about all that Bond and Prophecy stuff - everything that happened before. Be just-Vlad and let just-Ji Ho love you. You promised to be more approachable for him, didn't you?" Vlad: "Ok, I'll try." Jack: "No, there..." Vlad: "...there is no try. Do or do not. Fine..."

Jack: "That's my boy! Now let's look at our stars, hm?"

'I hear your name whispered on the wind It's a sound that makes me cry I hear a song blow again and again Through my mind and I don't know why I wish I didn't feel so strong about you Like happiness and love revolve around you

Trying to catch your heart Is like trying to catch a star So many people love you, baby That must be what you are

Waiting for a star to fall And carry your heart into my arms That's where you belong In my arms, baby, yeah

I've learn to feel what I cannot see But with you, I lose that vision I don't know how to dream your dream So I'm all caught up in the superstition I want to reach out and pull you to me Who says I should let a wild one go free'

Waiting for a Star to fall - Boy meets Girl

Outtakes

This was when I logged in after the last episode ^^'

TMI: Tonight was one of the nights I'd dreamt of the zombie apocalypse again -.- When I was on the run, I met Jeb! But he was smoking ö.ö And then I said to him: "That's your only flaw." Hahaha Omg, this brain of mine!

They are still not closing their eyes properly -.-

Hahaha and then I was going for this animation where they'd sit and hold the others hands in theirs - but they hated it. So I just had to take what they gave me, as always ^^'

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[kingofthering]

Hi guys, I am back ✨

First of all, I wanted to thank you all for the support and all the kind messages I received when my account was terminated (and all the offers to help me find my content on this website), I really appreciated that. I wish I cared less about something as silly as tumblr, but alas, here we are.

Blogs wise, I'm going to keep @kingofthering-two on the side, in case something happens here (again). It's a blog I'll aways keep free of strikable posts so it should always be a safe place to fall back on.

Additionally, to be precautious, I'm going to create an archive blog on a separate account. I'll share it once everything has been stored over.

Another thing I'm going to do is amend the post I made in December on how to deal with strikes and add things I've learned in the last couple of weeks. I'll reblog it when it's ready.

What about giffing here? So. I know what's safe and what isn't so obviously the safe content isn't even a question. Regarding the rest (essentially, things coming from videopass), I'm partially torn because fighting strikes is both stressful and exhausting but there is also the fact that in December they striked posts I created in April (8 months prior) so considering the fact that I'll never be fully safe unless I deleted everything after the content has been archived on another blog, well. (I did consider that option at one point but I'm not really fond of it, I'll admit).

I don't know yet if I want to discuss the Dorna strikes matter with Tumblr now or if I want to see if I'm good or I receive another strike (and then you can be sure I'll ask tumblr how come they're still accepting claims from an entity that couldn't back up their claims on 7 different occasions with my blog, and many more times with others). A small part of me is still worried that Tumblr would say something to Dorna (probably very unlikely but, you know) (and as painful as fighting the strikes is, at least we know it's always a working process for now). Thoughts to be had, at some point.

Anyway, I'm happy to be back here. There are a couple of things that I want to see to take care of in the upcoming days / weeks including publishing the recs of Nov / Dec 2024, treating the results of the 2024 MotoGP RPF Survey (still open), posting my MotoGP & F1 2025 seasons journals on Etsy, etc

It seems that I might have lost some of my followers (including mutuals) in the process of my blog going away and coming back. The notifications I'm receiving are not exactly coinciding with other stuff so I'm a little unsure about that. Going to post this in the MotoGP tag just to be cautious.

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

Logan smiled softly when he saw the blush on Virgils cheeks, despite the serious situation here...he couldn't help but to smile at that. How could he not? "Vee, I know you won't ever hurt me or Poe on purpose. I know you won't, or ever mean to, Hun. But...so did Charles, and look at what happened... He hurt Poe... I know that he'll force you to do the same thing, Vee. Or worse."

Logan let Virgil play with his claw, he even looked down to watch him play with his claw. He did smiled softly at the soft purr. He knew his mate was trying to calm him down. He leaned his cheek against Virgils shoulder.

"I'll always belong to you too, vee. Always and forever. I know that will always be the case, no matter what happens well always have each other. I love you too, I love you more than anything in the entire world... Well, maybe besides Poe. But other than that." Logan rubbed his cheek lightly on Virgils shoulder. "I'm...sorry about everything... I know it's not my fault, and I'm not in control over anything here but... I'm sorry I can't save you, save us... I'm sorry I'm not strong enough... I wish I could take us far away from this place. I wish I could keep all of us safe to the ends of time itself but... I can't... And... I'm sorry..."

HazbinSidesRP-P31-HazbinSidesRP

TW: Rape. Misgendering. Swearing. Blood. Demons. Janus is Valentino.

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↣P1-P30↢

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@ts-janus-rp-blog

[PREVIOUS REPLY]

"Well, not the growing wings part. But I think hellcats can like...become more cat-like? And uh...have a human form? And... Uh..." Patton thought for a moment, "We don't have a lot of hellcats around here so I'm not sure... But that's still cool though, right?" He grinned at that toothy smile. If he just doesn't look at Virgils eyes...he can almost believe that Virgil is alright, that he isn't drugged up. That this is the real Virgil... Oh, if only.

"Huh?" Logan pulled back when he heard that whimper, and that's when he saw Virgils ears going back. "Honey? What's the matter?" He looked over to Virgil with worry and concern as he gently brushed Virgils hair from his eyes. "Split... Huh?" His gaze followed after Virgil's, and that's when he saw the bit of juice on the counter. "You're worried about that? It's alright, it's just a bit of juice... It's okay."

"I've got it." Patton grabbed a towel and started cleaning it up. Within seconds the juice was gone. "There! Good as new." Patton came over to rub Virgils back softly. "See? No more juice on the counter. Everything is alright!"

Patton nervously glanced over to Logan, and he whispered to him. "Janus drugged him up with...something. I don't know what. He's not himself. He doesn't remember most things."

"He did what?!" Logan growled under his breath as he whispered that. "That fucker!"

[greenerteacups]

What do you think as Hermione's career would be post battle of Hogwarts? To me her being minister for magic really doesn't make sense. She does not have patience or tact to wade through murky waters of politics 😭😭

So hard to say! The Trio are so, so young when we leave them, I find it almost impossible to project their futures farther than a few years out. The job that suited me at 17 would be radically unsuited to me now. That's why of all the Trio, Ron's ending strikes me as the most realistic — he jumps straight into the save-the-world business again, burns out, realizes he's actually Done The Fuck Enough, Thanks, and pivots into a low-stress career where he gets to see his family a lot. Feels accurate! The others are weirder to me because they do seem to just... pick a lane and stay there.

With Hermione, you could spin her a couple ways. You could say that she leans into her bookish side and does research or teaching, which is not my preference for a couple reasons (namely, I don't think Hermione would like academia as a profession; she finds her classwork interesting and enjoys intellectual validation, but she'd be stifled and wasted in a DPhil program, and she'd be infuriated by the administrative politicking of your average higher-ed faculty). You could say that she gets disaffected with politics and ends up as a barrister or a lobbyist of some kind, but if anything that requires more political finesse, because you don't actually have institutional power, you're just handling the people who make decisions and trying to persuade them of your goals. This is not Hermione's preferred method of influence. She's not even particularly good at persuasion, she just happens to be smart enough (and right often enough) that people take her ideas seriously.

Or you could say her brashness fades with the years into a softened flavor of tell-you-like-it-is honesty, which some politicians actually do successfully trade on; as we see in British politics today, you don't have to be all that charming or clever to get ahead, you just need to be really driven and well-connected (which Hermione completely is; she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the first postwar Minister and her bestie, the Literal Messiah, runs the Auror Office.) But I don't know if Hermione especially wants to be Minister, after the war. She's just watched years of horrendous bureaucratic incompetence plunge the country into a violent civil conflict. She's had not one, but two Ministers of Magic try to bully or shame her friends into complicity with fascism. Her view of government is... likely extremely dark.

But Hermione also isn't the kind of person who sees her life as a quest for happiness. Babygirl has a savior complex that makes Harry look selfish. (She basically kills her parents — yeah, obliviating is a form of murder, #changemymind — "for their own good," and justifies every batshit, vindictive, mean-spirited move she ever pulls on the grounds that it "helps" one of her friends.) She is a mean, lean, dragon-slaying machine, and she needs a dragon. After Voldemort, the Ministry is the no. 1 threat to muggle-borns and non-wizarding Beings. As a war heroine with basically infinite political capital, I'd be surprised if she didn't try to do something there. That said, Hermione is so vivacious and dynamic that she could potentially grow in a hundred different directions; it's possible that all of this, while true of her at 18, becomes completely inaccurate by 22. That's why I'm not too fussed about any particular fanon interpretation.

[ichthyorelationships]

ideas: i didn't really think of him being underwater but they deserve to have drama by crying there too so i just think you could say something about the composition being denser than water or w/e. proteins

i'm always like good thing he didn't try to exit asap via swimming in ciao alberto But What If He Did lol. just swim Somewhere else along the coast, maybe panic about [money??] & whether somehow this ruins school for luca, whether he can get in touch w/o it being On Sight b/w him & all marcovaldos, consider just kind of trying out other places, traveling after all...fascinating considering the other povs on the issue like: now there's the paguros to sympathize w/a kid vanishing, luca however in a somewhat more novel position there, giulia's throwback to alberto being a bit perplexing lmao, kind of thinking the best massimo could do is have a prewritten letter for luca to give to alberto If Possible, conveying something like i know you didn't set my livelihood on fire on purpose but even if you did i'd want you to stay. and luca in a position to do all of "maybe give the island fun facts so someone can check if he's there" & "wait & hope alberto can/does get in touch" & "have a lot of feelings"....not even the context of what this drawing is about necessarily, just tacking it on here anyways. ahead of time i went "heh now i Know they're gonna have it get little Real here b/c it's really about alberto wanting the security of feeling he can 'earn' a sustained relationship" then the short cleared & i was lying completely dead on the pavement

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[inkats]

is it autism or is it a symptom of previous longterm social isolation and lack of agency ?

[mars-ipan]

this is gonna sound incredibly virtue signal-y i fear but i have been feeling. so fiercely protective of all the transfems i've ever met lately

[musical-chick-13]

One of the WORST parts of having OCD is that some of the Fears™ are actually humanly possible, so it's not like my response can just be, "Oh that'll never happen" or even "I've never seen that happen, so it's probably unlikely."