#plus he talked about the drums??

[thetorturedlovergirl]

The fact that The Doctor was trying to calm down by saying something so related to Missy is KILLING ME. Please, Thoschei, come back, your mentally ill fans who can’t stop thinking about you miss you

[fridayiminlovemp3]

the beach boys like is panic at the disco for men in their late forties

[past-j]

monkey man is SO GOOD!!

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you. 

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky. 

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on the same end of that deal just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected. 

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces. 

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different. 

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction. 

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait. 

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore. 

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks. 

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in. 

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is. 

Maybe he’s it. 

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine. 

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom. 

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him. 

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists. 

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust. 

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet. 

And you have a heated… What was it called again? 

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay. 

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you. 

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind. 

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works. 

He looks absolutely enraptured when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water. 

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, in its medieval iterations, all poofy skirts and velvet waistcoats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery. 

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. The theme is Midnight Elysium, and you look every bit the part - dangerous and glamourous and untouchable. 

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.  

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen. 

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact. 

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?” 

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake. 

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather. 

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask. 

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks. 

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed. 

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him. 

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating. 

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice. 

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to. 

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his. 

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

A bright flash from the party's official photographer erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it momentarily shakes both of you back to reality. 

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling possessively as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea. 

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna. 

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now. 

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The party is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most. 

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you wonder if he's wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice. 

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end. 

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t. 

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken. 

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting. 

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room. 

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track. 

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command. 

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep. 

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him. 

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features. 

“Love… you’re awake.”

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Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[mygnolia]

FALLING FOR MY MC! ౨ৎ y. jungwon

୨୧ -› where a music bank mc and leader of the hottest k-pop group meet and fall in love (again)

pair -› idol!yang jungwon x radio/podcast host!!reader | trope -› childhood friends to lovers | wc -› 1.9k | REN SAYS.. i thought this idea was cute when someone requested fanboy won + weekly idol mc reader (i never watch weekly idol so have music bank instead..) and im scared of writing idol x fangirl entirely so have this spinoff! | library

- you and jungwon have been friends for a while even before he went on i-land

- he’s always been into performing, singing, and especially dancing

- sometimes you’d stay behind at school and watch him do taekwondo + dancing

- and while he was student body president, you were the president of broadcasting too!

- you loved to talk to others and be in front of a camera and also wanted to make your own padcast, but never really knew how

- so you two were definitely in communication because of your positions!

- and… drum roll please… jungwon gets a little crush on you

- let’s just say he started thinking about you whenever you started morning broadcast for the school… or when you announced his name and his plans as student body president he went all blush-y

- he thought you were super cool and loved how effortless you were in front of everyone

- like time slows down when he looks at you, his eyes go glittery everyone else disappears..

- HES WHIPPED I FEAR!!!

more under the cut :3

- you two hung out a lot afterschool and sometimes at each others houses, but you also had other friends- friends who would also become idols!!

- you’re friends with chaewon and ningning hehe

- so now that highschools kind of ending, a lot of your friends started seriously pursuing music and the idol life, but you were never quite as devoted as they were

- and unfortunately by senior year, jungwon left for i-land :(

- you tried to be close but they didn’t allow outside communication and summer left you extremely busy

- and you were really sad that you couldn’t hang out with jungwon as much, but you still had other friends and were close to many from your school because of how big your journalism class was (aka where you did your broadcasting duties)

- but watching iland was your pasttime!! you voted jungwon EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. because you knew how much work went into his skills

- and who even cares if it was biased everyone was biased in their voting

- and you loved the drama and all his other members (but god it was heartbreaking and when jungwon stood on that second to elimination stage you cried)

- when enhypen debuted, you stayed a fan not just because of jungwon, but because of his interactions and their music

- enhypen was popular from the get-go because of iland, and you paid attention to their comebacks and texted jungwon every so often

- you two weren’t able to meet because of his busy tour schedule and back to back combacks (FREE MY BOYS)

- but you always supported them wherever whenever, and even trying to get concert tickets to attend whenever they were in your area

- plus you were still a broke college student and busy with your own interests

- but it didn’t stop you from consuming their content

- and if something happened you’d text jungwon, not really expecting a text back since he was so busy, but he’d always try to respond

- “omg not your cactus dying???” and he’d respond with some laughing

- “maeumi is so big now i saw her on your live on your arm” “STOP IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING”

- little things here and there

- and maybe yes… you were a little fangirl…

- ALBUM PULLS WERE HALF JUNGWON SOME SUNOO SOME HEESEUNG BTW!!! you were eating up your pc album

- and you’d always compliment him after a comeback or a show you went to

- “ahh! tamed-dashed is so good i think my fav song from your album is just a little bit! make sure you rest so your pictures turn out cute :)”

- OK BUT THE MOMENT YOU TRULY FELL FOR HIM like actually a ‘wtf omg why is yang jungwon so HOT why do i have a MASSIVE CRUSH ON HIM (again)”

- was…drum roll…l’officiel jungwon with only the blazer and then dicon tw-en-ty years jungwon with the cherry photoshoot (not projecting LOL haha…)

- yeah you were whipped

- but ofc you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, trying to keep your comments supportive more than fangirl-y

- you and jungwon finally have time to catch up when he’s back home for a bit, and he texts you more often since you were still somewhat busy with school

- and you two reminisce on how he wanted to be an idol pre-iland and how you love to talk on the radio which he’s listened to a few times!!! (yapper y/n agenda!!!)

- and you still loved to do broadcasting even in university

- you were on a few broadcast groups and was a temporary university podcast host for studying encouragement and you shared your struggles as an incoming upperclassman

- many people listened for the tips and fun story submissions to listen to while studying!

- and you’d look for jobs and hoped to find a larger podcast or station

- so much so that you auditioned and reached out to a popular radio show host about love and dating advice called ’Let’s Find You Love!’

- and your station was SUPER popular considering how sweet and sincere your advice was

- you were honest with viewers in toxic relationships and also got popular online

- special valentines day episode! you and your host shared stories about YOUR first crush and love experiences

- your host shared some bad relationships and what not to do! but you…?? you had a crush on yang jungwon. still. ofc he looked good!!!

- “to be honest, there was this boy in highschool who i liked, and i wish i got to ask him out, honestly. he was super sweet every time we talked, and he was always so hardworking.” and with the way you said it, the people who knew you from school couldn’t deduce if it was someone close to you or someone who you pined over from a distance

- agh the mystery!! everyone is hooked on your cute story, telling you to admit your crush to him!

- BUT HELLO?? ITS LEADER OF ENHYPEN JUNGWON YOU CANT DO THAT!!!

- tiktok frl went ‘damn i want someone to talk about me the way y/n from lets find u love talked about her crush’

- but it became a HUGE hit

- so much so that music bank reached out and WOAHHH

- they want you?? as??? an??? mc????

- usually they would pick idols, but the idol that did their music bank performance had an injury, and you were doing it alone since music bank didn’t want to start rumors!

- and woah.. enhypen new comback had you on your KNEES

- plus listening to jungwon is always so satisfying, especially to see him grow and explore different concepts and looks, you were not only loving the face cards being served but also his energy and love for his fans!!

- so yeah, safe to say your feelings for him were still there..

- but then they perform on music bank for xo, and you’re…THERE???

- jungwon’s looking at you, who’s looking super pretty as you rehearse your lines and the stylists are adding to your look before the show

- and he turns to his members like dude.

- and all of them are confused like ?? “jungwon what’s wrong..”

- “DUDE MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND IS HERE AS THE MC AND SHE’S SO PRETTY”

- thankfully camera crew was on break..but when they were back

- yeah fans were defo in their comments like “woah why is jungwonnie so nervous??” literally who’s gonna tell them the girl he hasn’t seen in like 6 years is in front of him pretty like how he remembers??

- and you kind of wanted to surprise jungwon by not telling him, but you also never had the time to speak up with all the media training you needed

- everyone was excited for you to be mc! it was a change of pace but a fun one for the audience

- welp it’s go time!!

- “hello everyone!! woah.. is it time for..my dating advice segment? nono! i’m here as…” you pretend to open a letter and look around “music bank’s emcee?? wow, such an honor!!” and ofc you turn on the dramatics to act

- and what group to walk in but enhypen…

- jungwon smiles IMMEDIATELY. fans analyzed this whole video

- ‘dude jungwon is WHIPPED for that mc’ ‘jungwon when he meets the pretty mc” “so we’re all seeing jungwon check out the girl on music bank or…”

- you had your own little script related to their new concept, asking a few questions and then moving onto a member specific question

- “jungwonnie! i noticed you wrote the part for hundred broken hearts! can we have you sing it?”

- THING IS…who says ‘jungwonnie’ so freely?? if you guys never met?? yeah speculation was running a little out of hand fr!

Jungwon shakes his head, dimples reappearing as he takes another look at you and nods. He sings his written part into the mic, and unknowingly, you smile too. “Ah- sorry, I’m too nervous to be singing it well.” And you scoff at him, looking around at his members. “He did it great, don’t you agree, Jake? Your voice is like an angel.” You call out to Jake, who originally sings that part.

Jake tells you, “Agh, he might steal my fans if he decides to sing that part live” and you laugh, eyes crinkling as you smile at Jake’s response to move onto the next question.

- and jungwon in that moment remembers why he liked you

- your laugh, your smile, your easy-going nature, and how much you had chased for your passions over the years

- and he’s just super super proud of you for where you are now, being a literal mc

- and he knows you love doing it

- after a bit more talking they went to perform and you went back!

- he’s super nervous after their performance and the members tease him for his little crush saying how he’d get a girlfriend before all of them

- oh yeah engenes were raving abt u

- “jungwonie’ and he doesn’t even look uncomfortable they must be friends”

- it takes a few internet detectives to figure out that it’s him who used to go to school with you and it’s him who you had a huge crush on woahhh

- and then jungwon found out.

- “y/n!! look at this tiktok lolol” “jungwon why is it titled ‘y/nwon confirmed with evidence’”“it’s funny >.<“

- ur freaking out like crazy

- cuz wdym jungwon SAW IT AND FOUND IT FUNNY

- so you’re like “haha yeah so funny…anyways wyd if it’s true.”

- and he’s like freaking out on his end like omfg is it true omg does she know “idk walk over and cuddle and kiss” HE BOLD!!

- anyways ygs do just that!! sooo cute and you two are very very secretive

- until…drum roll pls..one year after the initial valentines day episode on your podcast aka 7 months after you started dating jungwon

- and he’s waiting in your living room with all of your gifts but you have no idea since you’re recording live in your studio

- “for this valentines day episode i had people submit some cute love stories! and yes i will share one of my own”

- and you read all of them and laugh at the cute stories about love because yes love we love love!

- “the moment you were waiting for! so, little one year update, but i listened to you all and the boy i liked in highschool is now my boyfriend and we’ve been together 7 months!”

- yeah the internet freaked out

- because the timeline from xo comeback to valentines day makes sense for the engenes who knew

- but ygs are so cute so who’s complaining

reblogs + interactions are always appreciated :)

[divinesolas]

The Rockstar and Me

requested: would it be okay, if I requested a rockstar!jace x reader? were theve been best friends since childhood and the reader has a crush on jace. jace is a really popular upcoming rockstar and is super busy. he dosnt see reader the same way (just as there bestfriend) and kind neglects the reader bc he's really busy. so one night the reader has enough and they decide they need to take a break from there friendship, so they don't talk for a while. and then jace kinda realises he missed up and took the readers love for granted. In this time he he realizes he like her too.

w.c: 1.6k

c.w: just some minor angst and some fluff :3, not proofread

masterlist - requests open

--

You are going to scream.

Not of horror and certainly not of pleasure but you were just so annoyed.

Your roommate would not stop playing their fucking songs, most people would call you crazy but you swear you were about to look for a new apartment and put in big red letters, DO NOT REPLY IF YOU LIKE THE WEST DRAGONS. You have nothing against their music but it all just leads back to him.

Childhood best friend and crush turned ex-best friend rockstar Jacaerys Velaryon. He was your best friend for so long and you had liked him, a part of you still does. A part of you still misses him but you did what you had to do.

You could not just sit around and let him ignore you like that, time and time again he would blow you off to the point you grew sick of it and blocked his number and never looked back. You didn’t just ghost him. instead opting to send him a long messages about how you needed space and he was no longer the guy you knew anymore and told him you were gonna reach out anymore.

That was three months ago and your sure he hasn’t even fucking read it let alone try to reply to it. Three months since your life flipped upside down, moving to a new place, still in the same city but further away from him, new job and some new friends, it was odd at first and still is, being away from him but you won’t just let yourself be walked all over like that.

You had planned to stay in tonight like you normally would but your roommate had other plans, standing in the middle of the room bickering with you while you try to block out the sound of their music in the background.

“I don’t wanna go out sab.” “Come on live a little, come out to the bar with me.” “Maybe another night.” “Nope you are coming tonight. right now. get dressed.”

With that she sprints out of the room and you groan knowing she won’t take no for an answer and get up to get ready. Its just one night out, it won’t be so bad, plus it a good excuse so you don't have to hear his music anymore.

Yet when you walk into the bar its packed with people lining up in front of the stage, you turn to sab and tilt your head. “What is going on?”

She looks at you with a big grin on her face, “I didn’t tell you, oh my god the west dragons are performing here in a few.” Your stomach drops.

No you had to leave, maybe you could fake an illness? No she would catch on and force you to stay. You could make yourself throw up? that would cause too much of a scene. You were definitely going to be sick when you see the lights dim and they walk up on the stage.

He’s the drummer he should not even see you right? you’ll just sit at the bar and count down the seconds until the show is over and you can book it out of the room. Aegon greets the crowd as the groups lead singer and your stomach continues to churn. You met him a handful of times and he was always nice to you, he had a nice voice you could agree but you felt so sick anytime you heard their songs.

The show went on without a hitch and you wish the ringing in your ears would get louder so you wouldnt have to hear it. You find yourself reminiscing about your time with jace with every song that plays. You miss him. Much more than you’d like to admit.

You dont allow your eyes to drift behind aegon, yet you hear him, the sound of the drums, it haunts you, sometimes you can see his hands peak out, when aegon moves you can see his dark curls but never look too close to see his face.

They are taking a mini break with aegon entertaining the crowd, the show is almost over, you could not wait to go take a shower and try to act like this night never happened. Aegons eyes drift around the crowd while he’s talking and they land on you, you watch as his eyes widen and he stumbles over his speech for a moment as he turns back for a second to look at jace.

That was not good. Not good at all. “What was that? do you think he thinks your cute?” “definitely not.” Your words come out more strained than you would like and she looks at you confused, “Is something wrong?”

You open and close your mouth unable to know what to say. Your chest feels like its closing in on its self as she grabs your shoulders worriedly. “I need some air.” You quickly stand and rush out of the bar, sab quickly following after you. The two of you don’t notice the pairs of eyes that trail after you.

You lean against the wall on the outside and try to catch your breath. You did not think this would affect you so much, maybe because your whole life has been around him that now it just feels odd that he’s not around. This whole thing reminded you too much of going to his gigs and him coming up to you after the show to ask you what you thought.

“Who cares if i liked it jace? the people loved it.” “I care, you matter more to me than them.”

“Okay what the hell was that?” You run your hands along your face and stare at sab as she looks at your worried. “Its nothing.”

“oh fuck off its not nothing, nobody just runs out the room looking like they just saw their ex boyfriend over nothing.” She gasps at her own words and covers her mouth, “Oh my god wait did you actually date aegon? fuck if i knew i wouldnt have brought you here im sorry-” “I didn’t date ageon sab and i didnt date any of them.” “Then what happened?”

The two of you freeze as someone clears their throat and sab gasps as she turns around. “Im sorry to interrupt but, do you mind if we talk?” Jace. He was staring right at you. Sab looks between the two of you and gives you a look that says she wants to hear all about this before she runs off.

You stand in silence,, not wanting to be the first to speak. He puts his hands in his pockets and kicks on of the rocks on the ground. “How,,, um how are you?” “Im good.” He nods and continues to simply look anywhere but your face. “Thats good thats good um..” Its awkward. So awkward. It was never this way before but you guess thats just what time apart does to people. And you hate it.

“How are you?” He looks up at you shocked before he stumbles over his words, clearly very nervous. “Im good, im good, um, no no im not good actually. I miss you, so much.” Your breath hitches as you watch him continue to speak, “I regret how i treated you, so much. Im so sorry i miss you more than anything please, i just want us to be friends again, ill do anything to make it up to you.”

You don’t know what to say what to do. This is what you’ve been dreaming of for so long but your heart aches at the thought of returning to being just friends.

“I can’t be friends with you jace.” He stumbles back as if you had shoved him and he looks around attempting to compose himself. You swear you can see tears glazing in his eyes, “I um,” His voice cracks as he speaks and he coughs into his arm, “I understand yes of course, im sorry for bother-”

“I cant be friends with you jace because i cant bare being just friends. All ive ever wanted for so long was to be more with you, and if i go back to being just friends ill spend the rest of my life miserable because ill just be dreaming to be more with you.”

You do not even know when you had begun crying but you feel the tears begin to run down your face as you close your eyes and tilt your head down towards the ground. You feel his hands grip your face and pull you up to look at him, seeing his own tears running down his face.

“Im sorry, im so sorry. I love you. Im sorry it took me so long to realize this and that i had to be apart from you to know but ive realized i need you, i love you so much youre my best friend, the only person i need, i love you.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You dont mean it.” “I do i do mean it, i love you so much.”

He presses his forehead against yours and you sob harder. “I love you jace.”

“I love you so much, i will work everyday to earn your forgiveness to even be worthy or your love.”

He shakily presses his lips against yours in a peck and you two smile at one another.

“No more ignoring me?”

“Never, never again.”

--

perm jace taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @ravenn-darkholme

[crushmeeren]

Bakugou / Fem Reader ☠

☠ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+.

Warnings; making out, pussy eating, hickies, choking, bit of dirty talk/praise, not so vanilla vaginal sex/anal sex, aftercare.

☠ Master List Link

Katsuki who constantly paints his nails midnight black. Who has piercings adorning his lobes all the way up to the cartilage on both ears. Who decided to add a tragus on the left and a daith on the right because why the fuck not. Who gets an eyebrow piercing. Who exclusively wears black or silver jewelry.

Katsuki who is littered with tattoos. They span across both his arms, his chest, and a few on his legs. Who looks drool worthy with the black and gray ink coloring his skin.

Katsuki who is left handed and takes pride in the fact. Who consistently will rest his calloused right hand on the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh whenever he’s driving. Who squeezes too hard when someone cuts him off, the road rage is real with Katsuki.

Katsuki who chooses to specifically listen to Japanese rock and heavy metal at full volume. Who enjoys the breeze during summertime and rolls the windows down in the car anytime he can. Who blasts the music when he drives, if only to force others to “listen to decent fucking music.”

Katsuki who religiously wears all black. Who loves Doc Martens so much you tell him he should marry them. Who wears Vans and Converse, and who has an unbearable amount of SiM band T-shirts. Whenever you steal them he only protests half heartedly.

Katsuki who plays the drums like a prodigy. Who learns your favorite rock songs just so he can play them for you. Who melts your heart with the sweet gesture, plus you think it’s the coolest fucking thing ever to watch him play.

Katsuki who legitimately curses like a sailor. Who seems he says fuck every other word.

Katsuki who introduces you to Eijirou and Denki. The two easily become some of your closest friends, much to Katsuki’s disdain. They’re always at your house and you can’t complain.

Kastuki who flushes the sweetest peachy color all the way to the tips of his ears when you call him Katsuki for the first time.

Katsuki who bakes you any desert you could ever wish for. Who cooks dinner for you just about every night, and packs lunches for you with fruit cut into cute little shapes.

Katsuki who encouraged you to get into fitness in the first place. Who’s been your rock every step of the way. Who loves you no matter what you look like, but wanted to share his passion of working out with you. Who often invites his red headed best friend to tag along.

Katsuki who helped you learn how to love yourself. Who has always been your weight lifting/running buddy, even if you complain about cardio more often than not. Besides, seeing Katsuki in his gym attire, sweating so hard it drips down his jaw, is more than enough of a motivator to work harder.

Katsuki who pushes you outside your comfort zone. Who is stern, but never mean when he’s encouraging you.

Katsuki who’s terrifyingly observant and intuitively knows when you’re getting overstimulated at the grocery store. Who makes haste, leveling anyone in the way the bitchiest look he’s capable of. Who holds your hand and whispers comforting words to help settle your nerves.

Katsuki who falls harder in love with you each day. Who you trust with your life. Who is your best fucking friend, who you say yes to when he proposes. Who is the best dad to the kids you inevitably have. Who is your one and only.

Katsuki who you drive insane when you make out. Who shivers, hard cock pushing into your thigh when you suck on his tongue. Who actually whimpers when you frame his face with your hands, tilting his head slightly to get a better angle when your tongue glides over his.

Katsuki who loves pulling your soft nipples into his mouth one at a time, flicking and tugging gently with his teeth until your nails threaten to scratch his scalp open. Who makes sure you can see his warm tongue swirling, plush lips mouthing until you’re pushing at his forehead.

Katsuki who bites hickies into the underside of your tits. Whose teeth make your skin ache, a dull throb making itself known. Who doesn’t stop there, marking you any place he wants to.

Katsuki whose voice is gravelly, husky when he whispers to you that you’re his needy little bitch. Who assures you you’re his sweet princess in the next moment. Who gives you whiplash from the mixture of praise and degradation, but who knows it pushes you over the edge.

Katsuki who eats your pussy until you see stars. Who eases two fingers inside you, tapping them over your g-spot and licking your clit steadily until your thighs tremble.

Katsuki who gets your pussy drooling so eagerly that his cock meets no resistance pushing in. Who shifts his weight, the curly blonde hair at the base of his shaft brushing up over your clit. Who sends a blistering pleasure to your toes with each glide of his cock.

Katsuki who hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. Who digs his teeth into your calf until there’s an oval of imprints in your skin. Who bends until he can brace his hands by your shoulders, snapping his hips forward with sharp thrusts.

Katsuki who gets so sweaty during sex it trails down his jaw, down his neck and pools lewdly at his collarbones. Who laughs when you can’t resist the urge to lean up and taste him.

Katsuki who loves anal. Who’s feral about how tight your ass is, about the obscene way your rim stretches for his cock. Who will fuck you from behind while he opens you up with his fingers.

Katsuki who allows you to set the pace. Who lets you guide his cock gradually past your rim. Who pants excessively, voice hoarse as he complains about how hard it is not to flex and split you in half.

Katsuki who has a lilting moan wrenched from his throat when he starts to move. Who pushes down on your upper back, throwing his weight into each thrust.

Katsuki who fucks you so overwhelmingly your nails almost shred the sheets. Who has you screeching Katsuki! so deafeningly you shove your face into the sheets to muffle the noise. Whose hips bounce off your ass so roughly it turns your skin red.

Katsuki who nails your g-spot this way. Who forces you to cum so harshly you get chills. Who has you screaming out that you can’t take it, but who doesn’t slow his pace because he knows you’d say the safe word if you meant it.

Katsuki who is so mean. Who grips your hips rigidly, yanking you back to meet his thrusts. Who speaks condescendingly when he demands to know where the fuck you think you’re going, because “I know your slutty little ass can take my cock.”

Katsuki who rips an orgasm out of you, halfway to snarling when you squirt all over the sheets below. Who falls over the edge shortly after, bending over your back with a throaty moan and filling you with his release.

Katsuki who cleans you with a warm wash cloth afterwards. Who aids you in getting dressed in one of his oversized shirts. Who trades sweet kisses with you in the dark, snuggling you into his chest until you fall asleep. Who shrouds you with the feeling of safety and security while you dream of bright explosions.

[hazbinshusk]

huskerdust x reader. hours after he was meant to come back to the room, husk finally manages to close down the bar and come back to the two sinners waiting in his bed. except, maybe, he took a little too long? pure fluff and a little spice (because let's face it, I can't help myself) for the loveliest of lovelies @mckeeks. 1.8k

featuring: alastor being kind of a dick, lots of fluff, suggestive situations, and the return of the vixen!reader.

Husk resists the urge to drum his claws against the polished wood of the bar; any outward show of impatience is only going to encourage Alastor to extend his visit to the lobby even further. Why the radio fucker is lingering now, he isn’t sure since he’s got a broadcast scheduled in about twenty minutes. But then, pissing off the bartender he’s got on a leash is apparently a hell of a lot more entertaining than stroking his ego behind a mic.

Husk glances surreptitiously below the bar to his phone, swiping up on the screen to open up to the last app he’d had open – his text messages. He wasn’t much for texting; between claws that weren’t exactly touchscreen friendly and just being too impatient to deal with texts when he could just call whoever he needs to talk to, it wasn’t really his thing. But it was your chosen medium, and Angel’s, and it made it easier to sneak in conversations when he was supposed to be working.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You: hey, honey. you coming up soon?

This message is followed by a video – Angel sits cross-legged on his bed, a face mask obscuring his features but doing nothing to hide the grin plastered across his face. He’s dangling one of the thousands of toys he’s accumulated for Fat Nuggets, the piglet bouncing on the mattress in repeated attempts to catch it; each bounce paired with a snuffling ‘oink’, and each landing resulting in him collapsing onto the sheets. Husk had smiled at the display as he’d watched it; the expression had only grown as he’d listened to you giggle from behind the camera.

Husk: hope so.

You: good.🩷 we miss you up here.

You: plus, angel says if you keep us waiting much longer he’s revoking blowjob privileges.

Husk: …

Husk: from both of u?

You: he hasn’t figured that flaw in his plan yet.

Husk: ha. lov you. b up soon.

You: love you 🩷

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You’d sent that last message almost three hours ago, and Husk holds back a groan of frustration as Alastor taps the side of his glass with a clawed finger expectantly. Unstoppering one of the finer bottles of rye whiskey, he pours another two fingers into the waiting whiskey tumbler. The radio demon flashes him a sharp-toothed grin before he takes a sip, makes a show of savouring it on his tongue.

“Ah, Husker, my good man.” he tells him. “Whatever your flaws, I’m glad you can still manage to pour a half-decent rye.”

Husk doesn’t bother with a real reply; he huffs in response, keeping his eyes pointedly trained on the glass he’s cleaning lest the Overlord notice his impatience.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you, old friend,” Alastor continues, standing. “I do hate to keep the masses waiting.”

“Perish the thought,” Husk grumbles, and Alastor’s grin twitches wider. The bartender can sense the demon is waiting for some real acknowledgement, and he sets the glass down, biting out a: “Knock ‘em dead, boss.”

“Oh, I intend to, my friend.” Alastor laughs, and Husk’s jaw tightens in annoyance at the endearment as the Overlord melts into the shadows beneath him and disappears – undoubtedly headed for his tower.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes as he’s finally left alone, tossing his rag down on the bar and stretching his arms above his head with a groan until he feels something in his back pop. He closes his eyes, letting his exhaustion settle on him for a few moments before the ghost of a smile touches his lips as he reminds himself who’s waiting for him upstairs.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Niffty has long since dimmed the lights that line the winding halls of the hotel, and the ache between Husk’s shoulders seems to ease the closer he gets to Angel’s door. Soft pink light glows beneath the wood of the door, the gentle hue beckoning him like a warm embrace. He isn’t surprised to find the door unlocked already, and an ear flicks forward as it catches the familiar sound of canned laughter from a studio audience.

The door barely makes a sound as it opens, and gratitude for that wells up inside him as he steps into the room. The television is playing through some sitcom low, room. The television is playing through some sitcom low, the shifting light of the screen warring with the lowered pink lights lining Angel’s walls. A snuffling sounds by Husk’s ankle, and he bends down as soon as the door is closed to rub behind Fat Nugget’s ears, a light, breath of a groan slipping out past his lips as the movement pulls at the muscles in his back. The piglet nuzzles into his palm, oinking happily, before trotting back over to the bed in the corner.

And that’s the only greeting Husk gets; his affectionate smile growing as he takes in the two of you on the bed. Angel is sprawled inelegantly across the mattress, all long limbs and soft fur and cute pink pyjamas and knee-socks. How someone who routinely made the bartender blush just by opening his mouth could look so adorably innocent, he’d never understand. Still, it sent warmth right into the middle of his chest all the same, and despite everything in himself that told him to keep his distance, it was a feeling he knew he’d chase.

The spider is laid out on his back, splay-legged and mouth opened, a soft, barely-audible snore leaving him with every rise of his chest. He has you wrapped up with two of his arms, your body curled snugly into his side. Your face is tucked up into the curve of his neck, his fingers fisted gently in the fabric of the over-sized tee-shirt you’re wearing. Between that and the way your leg is hiked up over Angel’s thigh, Husk can just glimpse the hint of the baby-blue lace beneath.

The first beads of a more carnal desire drop into his stomach, but he pushes that away, smile still playing on his lips as he approaches the bed and sits on the edge of it. He ghosts a hand up over your thigh at a glacial pace, mapping out a path over the flesh, feeling the goosebumps that have risen in the chill of the air conditioning. He catches hold of the hem of your shirt, tugging it gently back into place over your thigh.

“Mmm…” you groan softly, turning your hand away from Angel’s chest to blink blearily up at the bartender. “…Husk?”

“Hey, Vix,” he says, a quiet purr rumbling through his chest as your hand comes down to curl over his where it still rests on your thigh. “Sorry I’m late.”

“We waited for you.”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.” he murmurs, lifting your interlocked hands so he can brush his lips against the back of your palm. “Couldn’t get Al to leave.”

“He’s an asshole,” you grumble sleepily, and Husk chuckles.

“Yeah, he is.” he smiles, returning his paw to your hip, letting it drift higher to follow the curve of your waist, to trail up your arm to your shoulder. When he reaches your throat you lean up to meet him, his lips brushing against your cheek before meeting your own. You hum contentedly into it, curling your fingers around a suspender before dropping back onto the pillows. You tug on it in a weak but convincing urging to remove them. “Alright, baby, I’m comin’.”

“Ooh, promise?”

Husk rolls his eyes with a smirk and you giggle at his reaction. He stands, hooking claws under his suspenders to drag them down off his shoulders. He scoffs as you wolf-whistle, shaking his head.

“Woo,” you cheer, keeping your voice low. “Take it off!”

“Hush up,” he replies affectionately. “You’ll wake up Angel.”

“Too late,” the spider’s voice is nasally and torn with sleep, but he still shifts to bend an elbow against the pillows and rest his cheek against his palm. “An’ I ain’t complainin’. I second her request, by th’way.”

You grin, leaning back to bump your head against Angel’s shoulder. One of his other hands comes up to cup your throat, sliding up your neck to your chin. He tilts your head back, holding Husk’s gaze as he kisses you, nice and slow and deep. You can’t help the soft moan that you breathe into his mouth. Angel grins up at the bartender as you part. “C’mon, Huskie. Ya heard the lady. Take it off. Give us a show.”

“I ain’t a piece of meat,” Husk protests jokingly even as he continues to undress.

You and Angel let out a series of appreciative hoots and he rolls his eyes again, tail flicking behind him as he climbs onto the bed and shuts you up by kissing you, braced above you with a hand on either side of your shoulders. He kisses you breathless, his purr returning as you curl fingers through the downy fur of his chest. He breaks away from you to give Angel the same treatment, groaning into it as you dare to snake a hand between you to squeeze him through his briefs.

Husk jerks away from Angel with a breathless laugh, his tail swatting at your thigh. “What’d I just say, Vix?”

“That you ‘ain’t a piece of meat’.” you repeat, feigning contrition.

“Fuckin’ right,” Angel laughs, leaning up to kiss Husk’s neck. The cat’s eyes roll back and close, his breathing unsteady as Angel’s teeth graze his pulse point. He shivers as Angel coos in his ear, “You’re all man, baby.”

Angel slips a hand past your and under the waistband of Husk’s briefs, winking at you as man on top of you moans. Another one of Angel’s hands slips over your thigh, urging your legs apart. You wrap your arms around Husk’s neck as he shifts his hips to rest between your thighs, his head dropping against your shoulder as Angel pumps his half-hard cock slowly. Each stroke of his hand manages to slide Husk’s cock against the lace of your underwear, and you moan softly in Husk’s ear. The bartender presses his lips to your throat, licks a line over the edge of your jaw, and you shudder at the rough tease of his tongue.

Angel speaks teasingly in Husk’s ear, his other hand stroking through the fur of his back, teasing over the spot between the base of his wings that makes the bartender’s back arch into his touch. “Why don’t ya show her jus’ how much of a man you are, huh, Huskie?”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 2 - Sick and Full of Pride

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, fluff, mutual pining, smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You, Dean, and a sleeping Sam drive back to the bunker. Usual Warnings, plus light smut.

Author's Note: Dean driving does Things to me have a whole chapter with it.

Title from Drive by Halsey

Word Count: 5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

You’ve been in the car for almost eleven hours. The drive home was supposed to be eight, Dean is by no means going slow, and—as he’s told you many, many times—he doesn’t get lost, so you’re starting to suspect that you won’t be home any time soon.

As such, you’re now trying to find a reason to very casually and inconspicuously bring up that, if you’re looking at another three hours in the Impala, you’d appreciate it if you and Dean could make the team effort to kick Sam into the back so you can move to shotgun. You rarely get the opportunity—it arises exclusively when Sam wants to sprawl across the larger bench, you made Dean pie to get on his good side, or Dean and Sam are fighting, so Sam loses shotgun privileges—so you plan to take full advantage of this one.

Dean beats you to it. He’s been drumming on the wheel for about an hour in a beat you can’t find any real pattern to, he keeps shifting in his seat, and when he meets your eyes in the rearview mirror, there’s something that’s not quite stress—but close to it—on his face.

“Do you, uh, you wanna come up here?”

You blink, leaning forward between the seats to whisper in his ear. Don’t want to wake up Sam, and, really, any excuse to whisper with Dean is one you’ll take. “Yeah, but,” you glance at the sleeping lump of Sam. “What about Goliath?”

Dean shrugs. “He can sleep in the back. He’s lanky,” Dean says your name, shooting you a small grin, and you almost fall forward. “And I want you up here.”

“Oh.” You flush, but force yourself not to read into it. Sam’s asleep. Asleep people are worse company than awake people. “Okay.”

“You’ll talk to me, right? Up here?”

He sounds a little nervous, and your words fall out in a rush of reassurance. “Of course I’ll talk to you. I lo-” You catch yourself, and focus your attention on a dial on the dashboard as you continue. “I like talking to you. I’ll always talk to you.”

“So yeah?” Dean’s voice is casual, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring at the road—which he probably should’ve been doing the whole time—and his grip has become white-knuckled and tight on the wheel. “You’ll come up here?”

“If you can get Sam out, sure-“

Dean pulls off the side of the road, pushing his door open, and stomping around the hood of Baby. You’re a little dumbstruck, not entirely sure what’s happening, and a small rap of Dean’s knuckles on the window pull you back to your senses.

You push your door open, frowning up at him. “What-“

“Let’s go.” Dean’s hand moves to your arm, but he flinches back almost immediately, like you’ve burned him. Even in just the streetlights, you could swear he’s blushing. “C’mon, Sweetheart, need some backup.”

Once you’re out of the car, rubbing your arms and watching Dean and Sam exchange low words—Dean’s sounding urgent and Sam’s just sounding a little irritated—you try to look up and down the street for some clue of where you are. It’s mostly bushes, yellowing grass, and telephone poles—so literally anywhere in the Midwest—and this old dirt road isn’t really that different from any other dirt road, but it still feels familiar. Like you’ve been on it before. And the track marks on the upcoming path look suspiciously similar to the track marks behind Baby-

Sam stands up and shuffles to the backseat with a few grumbling sounds, and Dean holds the door open for you.

“M’lady.” He makes a wide, sweeping gesture to the seat, and you give him an amused, dry look as you walk up to his side, trying not to get high on how incredibly real his boyish, proud smile looks.

“You’re very cheesy sometimes, you know.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t seem bothered, and his eyes never leave yours as you climb into the seat. “Part of my charm.”

There isn’t a good answer for you to offer him that isn’t God, it really is, so you just make a half-hearted shrug and sink into yourself, letting Dean close the door and return to the wheel.

The first few minutes are silent, and the longer you look at the passing fields, the more you feel like you’ve seen them before.

“Hey, Dean?”

He hums, and you turn your head to see his gaze flicking between you and the road.

“Do you know how much longer we have left? Before we’re home?”

“Few hours.” He shrugs, and it’s a loose movement, which is a good sign. “Traffic’s a bitch.”

You glance out the windshield to the completely empty, dark street. “Traffic.”

“Yep.”

It’s not worth pushing him on. You’re fine here—you’re fine anywhere if you’re next to Dean—and Sam looks a little more comfortable, so if the drive ends up going until morning, you won’t care that much. You might become a little more worried about Dean, but you’ve gotten used to being worried about Dean. You’d rather the worry be about he might be losing his sense of direction, or developing short-term memory loss, because we’ve definitely taken this right before instead of he’s shattering glass and doesn’t seem to do anything but look sad and it’s going to make you cry.

“So, um,” you keep your eyes on the dial from before, because looking at Dean while you talk to him is never a good idea. “You’re still feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great. Whatever hocus pocus shit Rowena did worked wonders, Sweetheart, I’m feeling amazing.”

You smile, and something that’s been tight around your heart for months loosens. “That’s really good, Dean. I know you didn’t want to try this, but-“

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You see another loose shrug in your periphery, and your smile grows. “I gotta listen to you and Sam more, sometimes your ideas can actually be good.”

That makes you look up at him—primarily to glare—and it’s immediately a mistake. The shadows and ripples from the streetlight, cutting over his lips and jaw and cheekbones in the night, are making him look somehow more attractive, and you think it’s because of the joy. Dean’s grinning between you and the road, and there are no burdens pushing his shoulders down or weighted over his handsome features, and his whole face looks happy.

“Um,” you swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from Dean. “What’s the betterlust feel like? What does it want?”

Dean pauses, and he clears his throat in a deep, rough sound that is incredibly unproductive for actually focusing on his words.

“Feels like the bloodlust, I guess. I don’t, uh, it’s like a hunger.” Dean runs one hand carefully over the wheel, glancing at you with darkened eyes you can’t read, but want to watch you forever. “But for really specific things. And if it doesn’t get those things, I get…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “I feel like shit.”

“Like a craving?”

“Exactly like a craving.” Dean shoots you a grin that’s all pleased teeth, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “Kinda like when we’re on a stakeout and suddenly you want a burrito, and if we don’t get you a burrito you start to get all mean and whiny.”

“I do not get mean or whiny-“

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “You get very mean and whiny. I ain’t gonna forget when you threatened to castrate Sam because he brought you a salad.”

“And I won’t forget that you backed me up, Winchester. You offered to get my knife.”

“Because you were being mean and whiny, and I’m not looking to ever get castrated.” He gives a fake, overdramatic shutter. “The loss of Dean Jr. would hit many people very hard.”

You flush, whacking his arm. “Asshole, I was not going to castrate you-“

“You would.” He shoots you a wink. “But don’t worry about it. I appeased the monster, and everything’s intact and functional down there.”

It takes effort to roll your eyes, because you know he’s not even taunting you on purpose. Dean has no way to know that you’d never castrate him—you probably weren’t going to castrate Sam either, the point was more to put the fear of God in him for thinking salad was an acceptable alternative to burrito—because the monster he was teasing you about lived in your abdomen and only roared for him. It reared it’s head at the deep, rolling sound of Dean’s voice, grew warm and sensitive at every brush of a big, rough hand on your skin, and was fed by any sliver or scrap of attention he threw you. The only way to truly appease the monster was to let it out of where you’d trapped and desperately ignored it, and the only way to let it out was for Dean to look at you, and not stop.

But you’d learned to deal with that. As long as the monster was tended to, kept in line and from falling out of your mouth with a shout of Dean! I love you! Please look at me, because I really, really love you! You’d be fine.

“Fine.” You sigh. “I’ll give you mean, but I have never been whiny in my life-“

He gives you a flat look of amusement. “You’re a little whiny right now, Sweetheart.”

There’s no way for you to win this argument, Dean’s backed you into a corner you’re more than happy to be in—it means he’s smirking at you, unbelievably pleased with himself, and he’s drumming on the wheel again—so you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

You flip him off, he lets out a loud laugh, causing Sam to stir in the back seat.

“Dean,” you hiss, your hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Quiet-“

He scoffs, pulling your hand down. “Sam’ll be fine, he’s slept through more than me laughing. Don’t know where the hell his hunter instincts go when he knocks out, but nothing short of a hurricane is gonna wake him up now.”

“I know that, I’m just,” you glance at your hand, back in your laps as still buzzing where your palm had covered Dean’s lips. “He’s been really tired.”

Dean’s grin drops slightly, eyes flicking between you and the road. “What about you.”

“What about me?”

“Are you tired?”

You pause, trying to get a read on your own body. Your eyelids do feel heavy, and your body does have that strained feeling of exhaustion between your muscles and bones, but you’ve been more tired. And moments like this—just you and Dean, talking without any worries or sadness or pain—are so rare, you don’t want to miss any of it.

“I guess. But-“

“Get some sleep,” Dean says your name in a stern voice, his attention fixed back onto the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

You blink at him, and realize he’s taking the first left turn in almost three hours. “I’m fine, Dean-“

“You and Sam have been working overtime for me,” he grunts, shooting you a firm look that’s not angry, but firm. “You both deserve some rest. I’ll get you up when we’re back.”

You’re going to argue—to push back and try to explain that you can sleep later, you’re not really that tired and you’d choose talking to Dean over almost anything—but he turns up the music and that’s it. You’re not moving him on this, and if he thinks you need rest, he won’t talk to you until he deems you’ve rested.

It’s insufferable, and annoying, and so fucking impossible to fight with how he won’t stop looking at you with concern, until you sigh, curl into your seat, and pretend to close your eyes.

You’ve gotten good at faking sleep around Dean. At keeping your eyes just open enough to watch him like, admittedly, a creep, and savoring the moments where he’s just himself. He’s not trying to perform the big hero and protector and fighter role for you and Sam that he’s so good at—despite what he seems to think—because you and Sam are both, allegedly, asleep.

Well, Sam’s definitely asleep. But you’re drifting, toeing the careful line between the hazy fantasies that run through your head on loop and the reality of Dean, right next to you and so damn pretty.

He’s always so pretty, and right now he’s alive. He’s purely Dean—entirely himself, which is and always has been more than enough—and it makes his every movement electric. Every dart of his tongue over his lips—pink and full and probably soft and well fit on your own—makes you salivate, and that makes you wish he’d run a broad, thick finger over your mouth, wiping away the slight drool.

He’s drumming on the wheel again, and it turns into some sort of rhythmic lullaby, moving you higher and higher until everything is Dean.

It’s his strong, firm arms wrapping around you and flexing as he moves the wheel, and pinning your hands above your head with big, calloused hands you could swear keep brushing over your cheeks. It’s those lips that drive you insane pressing small, soft kisses all over your body before moving to your lips and turning desperate and rough. Dean’s tongue down your throat and his nose suddenly bumping against your clit.

He’s moved, down, down, down your body—you can feel marks that never really formed but are still sensitive and blissful from Dean’s presence—and suddenly you’re so needy you might die from it. You can still see Dean—the actual Dean, his eyes locked on the road in reality but focusing only on you in your head—and you can’t focus on anything else. His hands gripping the wheel are suddenly holding and kneading at your hips, but still deep inside you, pumping in and out in the same rhythm of the song.

It’s mostly fantasy now. You can smell the leather and whiskey and amber of Dean, your Dean—not your Dean, not your anything unless it’s here, in your half-dreams—and hear his humming, feel the heat radiating off his body. And it’s all feeding into each other, and now you’ll never come down. It will just keep being Dean’s hands on you—tossing you around like a ragdoll but touching your skin in a way that’s painfully careful—and body caging yours in. His full lips sucking and nipping at your neck and breasts and inner thighs, his tongue flicking at your nipples and clit and running over your teeth. Dean hold you down, up, under him or above him or against him, touching you however he wants because God, you’re not needy and desperate by any means but it would feel so good for him to use you. To be the cause of his post-sex swagger walk—as you and Sam have deemed it—or receive one of those cocky winks over breakfast. To hear him praise you, or praise him, or do anything he asks because he always does most anything for you.

Except this. This one thing—playing with you until you’re screaming his name and seeing stars—is the only thing Dean hasn’t done for you. Won’t do for you. You’ll never ask of it, you won’t be able to handle it when he says no aloud in a deep, gruff apology, and so you’ll just live here. In fantasy, where Dean’s attention is fixed on you and never strays. Because in this fake world, it’s only you and Dean, and you could like that forever.

And, right before sleep pulls you under, you could swear that Dean’s eyes on your are deep and blown-out with hunger, and realer than anything else in the world.

——————

Dean was starting to get the hang of this. It was surprisingly easy to do most of what the betterlust demanded, because they were things Dean already did all the damn time. Driving was an obvious one that he’d latched onto almost immediately—something in Dean’s brain had always felt a little easier to live with when he drove, and his hands never felt dirty when he was holding Baby’s wheel—and was easy to feed. Dean had to drive, because that’s how they got around. She and Sam knew him well enough to not try and ask and drive themselves, and it was part of Dean’s job to drive them between cases and the bunker, so satisfying the betterlust had pretty much been handed to him as a quick, easy fix.

But the trick seemed to be not feeding it too much. Taking just enough to satiate the betterlust into something that didn’t make him feel sick and hot, but keeping it from going overboard, because it was really fucking easy to go overboard. To get in the car and know that the drive could be short, but Sam had knocked himself out and She probably wouldn’t be far behind, so if Dean missed two or three turns or drove in an overly complex circle for two hours, nobody would stop him. They were only an hour from the bunker, nobody seemed to be upset by the additional time in Baby, and driving sent Dean’s head into some sort of humming, blissful joy he’d never felt in his damn life. It was like the quiet ease of driving had been duplicated, amplified, then shot right into his blood.

And two or three turns turned into nine or ten, and two hours became four. And She didn’t fall asleep, and the betterlust started to get hungry again. He couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror at Her drop-dead gorgeous face that couldn’t be his, and wanting her. Wanting Her to say one word to him, or smile at him, or sit just a little closer so he could offer the betterlust something. Anything that wasn’t this starving, tortuous, ugly need for Her. Closer closer closer, never close enough and She needs to be closer so Dean doesn’t rip off his own skin from how it’s boiling or pull out his tongue because it’s starting to cave in with words he’s not allowed to say.

Dean didn’t trust himself to talk to Her, but the longer she was awake, within his reach, and invading his head with Her everything, the closer he felt going batshit insane. He had to keep himself in fucking check, and figure out what he could be allowed to do with this.

He could not be allowed to touch Her. Touching Her was dangerous. Touching Her made this high feel like he’d died in the best way possible. Touching Her was like all the simple easy of driving and the sweet taste of pie and humming strength of a good drum line in a song that pounded in Dean’s chest were rolled into one thing that was soft and warm and just real good. The betterlust fall entirely silent just when his hand brushed against Her’s, then became loud and feral when the contact was taken away. Touching Her was so good that it made everything else became pointless. Touching Her was the best, so Dean could not be allowed to touch Her because then he’d never stop.

And this wasn’t dangerous. It was just driving, and everyone knew Dean loved driving, and Dean felt like he could walk away from this. That, when they parked and She and Sam shuffled back inside, Dean was strong enough to ignore the hungry voice in his head and itch in his hands to just start driving again. Just like how he’d eat a cheeseburger, but he didn’t always need to eat a cheeseburger. He’d eat pie, and then walk away. Dean could control this. The betterlust was easy to feed, and better to feed—She’d really nailed it on the head with that—and nobody got hurt.

As long as Dean kept himself under control, nobody got hurt.

So Dean could talk to Her. Be near Her with the knowledge that, if he let his gaze linger on Her peaceful, sleeping face for too long, he’d be more of a goner than he already was and never be able to look away. It was safe to do in the car, where he could pull his attention away because of safety and immediately offer the betterlust some more driving the fill the loss of Her. Dean could keep driving, and look at Her in moderation, and nobody would have to freak out about certain people being in love with certain other people, or an annoying, third person who was a massive lump in Baby’s back seat getting a smug I told you so face.

Sam was wrong, though. There wouldn’t be anything to be smug about with Her and Dean, because Sam was wrong. As they neared the bunker—for real this time—it was just Dean, the rumble of the engine, and the music, Dean fell further into his head. Usually the music could drown his thoughts out, but the betterlust was so determined to have Her that he needed to grab it and shout that having Her wasn’t a fucking option. Dean could offer the betterlust whatever it wanted, except Her. He tried to reason with it—She’s too good, Dean isn’t close to good enough, and She doesn’t want him so he can’t lose her over something dumb like feelings—but it didn’t seem interested in Dean’s flawless, rational logic. The betterlust just wanted Her in every way possible, and Dean couldn’t get Her, and this might be worse than the bloodlust. This was unfixable, and Dean wanted it just as much as the betterlust, and his chest was going to cave in on itself and take his heart down into his stomach, pressing it to tiny pieces and pushing it out so everyone could see how little control Dean had over his own goddamn body.

He’d have to get through this. They were only ten minutes from the bunker, and he’d work out how to see Her in moderation, and She wouldn’t get uncomfortable from how much of a sick, twisted, perverted son of a bitch he was, and he’d have Her as he was allowed to and never lose Her. He’d do every other thing that fed the betterlust, and nobody had to get hurt. The whole point of this was to stop the hurt, so Dean would get a fucking grip and live with what She and Sam had worked so hard to get him.

Then She started moaning. Dean thought it was just a noise of discomfort at first—he even slowed down so he didn’t disturb Her—but then she did it again, and it was breathless and needy and he was going to die. He could feel his face turn red, feel how his jeans were suddenly painful to wear and all the blood in his body was focused and throbbing where Dean needed Her, and all his plans of keep Her close but still at a manageable distance went out the window. Her lips were parted as Her breathing became heavy, She was squirming slightly in the seat under the touch of whatever the hell was doing that to her in her dreams, and Dean might have be forced to jump out of the car if he wasn’t already pulling into the bunker.

There was a long moment—right after he turned off the engine—where the only sounds were Sam’s snoring and Her moaning, and Dean wondered if this was hell. If Rowena had actually just killed him in that kiddie pool, and he was being tortured with Her looking and sounding and being like something he wanted to eat but was just out of his reach, all while his little brother slept in the back seat.

Dean adjusted himself in his seat—hiding his boner from Her view and blocking Her from Sam’s—and cleared his throat as loud as he possibly could.

Her eyes blinked open—hazy and blown out from either sleep or Her dream—and even Her adorable, sleepy yawn made Dean twitch in his pants.

“Hey,” She rolled a little onto her side, pushing herself upright, and Her voice sounded airy and soft and Dean could not look Her in the eyes. “Are we home?”

Dean grunted, nodding, and he had to get out of here. If he didn’t, he’d either kiss Her or explode. “Just parked,” he muttered, clenching his fists on Baby’s wheel in a slow pattern that usually calmed him down, but right now was doing jack shit. “Gonna go get some food.”

She hummed, leaning forward into Dean’s periphery with an expression he recognized as Her Dean, please be okay one. She was trying to kill him.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine. Hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. Dean was starving, just for something that wasn’t exactly food. It was right at his side, and probably wet and bitter in a way that would be so fucking good, and moan and whimper like a song, would shiver at his touch and grind on his hands and face and cock and-

He had to get out of here.

“Got pie in the freezer,” Dean said, pushing Baby’s door open in the way that he always yelled at Sam about. Too rough and reckless, practically punching her open, and he didn’t have the time to chastise himself or apologize to his car, because he had to go. “Wake up Sam for me.”

“Dean-“

“I said I’m good.”

“I know, but can you, can you please just look at me-“

Dean’s head turned of its own will, and it was the biggest mistake of his life. Her face was still slightly flushed, and she looked so nervous and worried, and her eyes were scanning over his face the same way they did in his dreams. Where he’d be covered in blood, and She’d look him over with care that never seemed to waver with doubt, and guide him into the shower. Strip them both, pull Dean under clear, steaming water and kiss him as all the blood was washed away. He’d be allowed to roll Her nipples between his fingers, and shove his knee between her thighs, and kiss Her until she said his name-

“Dean-“

He had to shake his head, force the spell of Her out of his vision and head and blood, and grab the betterlust by the throat to stop it from grabbing Her face and pulling it to his. She wouldn’t want that, and She shouldn’t do things she didn’t want to do, and Dean couldn’t be near Her like this. He still couldn’t control himself, and all of this had been a mistake because he could hurt something bad and sit in the guilt and hatred but still have Her, but now he couldn’t have Her at all.

He wasn’t even sure what his excuse was, but within the next ten seconds he was half running out of the garage, into the bunker, and locking himself in his room like some sort of feral animal. A beast that had to lock itself away from the people he loved, because they didn’t deserve him and he couldn’t force them to do more for him, and couldn’t stand to ask for what he wanted and be denied.

But he could get control back. He could find the smaller things that the betterlust wanted and keep feeding them. Drive and eat and maybe watching some fucking TV. Listen to music until he went deaf and work on Baby and stay the hell away from Her. She was dangerous to him. Not Her herself—She was awesome and cool and hot and Dean wanted Her on his face or lap or under his body, which was the problem—but the way the betterlust seemed to tunnel vision onto Her. The way Dean would just look at Her and his whole body would start to ache and boil and twist until he was talking to Her. And the more he spoke to Her the more he needed to touch her, and a little more control would slip, and eventually he’d just be unable to leave her side.

The distance was going to hurt Dean more than Her anyway. He’d figure out how to control this and immediately seek Her out when he did—She probably wouldn’t even notice he was avoiding Her—but until then he had to stay away. He’d agreed to this for things to be easier, not for himself, but for Her and Sam.

Staying away from Her would be easier for everyone. No complicated, emotional, chick flick conversations. No rejection. No showing Her that he wasn’t the strong, immovable man she was friends with and being tossed out onto the curb. Dean didn’t ever want to lose Her, this would make Her walk away—She wouldn’t want him, because she’d seen every single part of him and nobody would want them all—so Dean had to keep himself under control.

And it would be fine. Dean had control now, and he could feed the betterlust with so many other things, so this would be easy.

End Note: Answer to the last note - I am incapable of writing a short and sweet chapter, I had to make the whole mini-series an extra chapter, send help.

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

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224 @underground-secret

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[flamingpudding]

Cassiopea and Orion #2

Previous Part

A/N: I probably shouldn't be thinking up so many different story lines. But my mind won't let me focuse on something else in peace unless I write these snippets and parts out. So here have another part XD I still have a whole Danny and Bruce backstory conversation in my head that I will probably write out at some point too.

"Really B, another one?" A red helmet wearing guy huffed the moment he spotted her, the little black haired blue eyed girl, sitting on a railing by a huge computer set up Ellie was sure Uncle Tuck would have drooled over.

She blinked at the new arrival before her eyes went over to the man. The one she had told that Phantom lost his haunt. When she had spoken these words the air around the man had changed. Before Ellie even really knew what was happening, the man had turned away from her, talking to the still tense boy before whisking the both of them away to a cave. The place she was now, and one after another more and more of the weirdly dressed people showed up. Each of them appeared to feel the need to comment on something, Ellie heavily believed to be an inside joke.

She let her eyes wander over all the arrivals, her fingers nervously drumming on the metal of the railing she was sitting on. Watching them carefully, despite what Danny had told her, she would bold at the first sight of danger from them. They didn't appear to have any ecto-weapons but that could be false impression. Like the GIW. They had appeared so incompetent only to do a 180 decades later.

"So what is going on? Is B printing adoption papers already?" The red and black one appeared to joke and Ellie tilted her head. There definitely was a insider joke she was not aware of. It would be weird to ask them about it wouldn't it? It would also be rude and tactless. Danny and Aunt Jazz had tried to teach her to not always blurt out every question that pops up in her head. Key words, not always.

"Why would the furry need adoption papers?"

She blinked at how a couple of the people broke out laughing while the kid, who had been watching her like a hawk, was now full on shooting daggers at her. She was pretty sure the kid would have thrown a literal one at her, but something as keeping them from doing so. She heard a grunt, and her eyes went back to the man that had brought her here.

"Not necessary." The man muttered as he turned to face them, clicking a key on the keyboard of the computer, and Ellie blinked as an image of Phantom popped up on screen. The people laughing appeared to quiet down now. "She already has a father."

"Mom." Ellie automatically corrected, shrugging when they looked at her. Before everything had gone to shits and Danny's capture, he had become quiet the mother hen, especially with Dan's and her de-aging. The constant mothering and worry about their well-being had caused Dan to joke that Danny was acting like a mother and she had continued to run with that joke. Even after they had to put Dan into a frozen state under Frostbites care in Far Frozen. The two had silently agreed on that Danny was their mom. The past didn't matter and she would honour their silent sibling agreement.

She didn't elaborate any further and they seemed to get that as they turned back to the man by the computer, putting their attention on that. Though she did noticed that the other kids eyes lingered on her longer.

"This is Phantom. A ghost hero stationed at Amity Park. Code: Rho, one of Cassiopea's dying stars." The man paused, and Ellie swore he had looked at her under his cowl. "And this girl's, Elliza Danielle Phantom Nightingale's, mother. Code: Jupiter, the wandering star."

"How do you know my full name?! Plus, my only recently added ones! They are like only a month old! And what about these weird Codes?" She blurred out wide-eyed, staring at the man in bat costume.

"Even if sparse Phantom and I stayed in contact using these codes." And Ellie narrowed her eyes at him. "Doesn't answer my question."

"Actually, B we would also like to know more." One of the onlookers, that's what Ellie decided they were for now, piped up.

Bat guy grunted, staring them down but not answering. The onlooker in blue sighed but Ellie wasn't giving in. She crossed her arms, keeping her balance by floating slightly on the railing.

"Look, you big bad bee, if you can't tell me that, then how am I supposed to trust you to help me, let alone the rescue of Da- Phantom!"

The onlookers snickered as she held her little staring contest with the big bad bee. Jokes on that guy she had held staring contests with Frighty before and he doesn't even remember how to blink at times.

"Phantom and I correspond about various topics since our teen years." The bat guy finally admitted. "One of which was about... our children."

Ellie blinked several times. Until her eyes widened in realization and she pointed an accusing finger at bat guy. "You're the one that kept calling Danny about parent advice! Like how he got me to go to online school and prevented me from sneaking out or how he handled Dan's anger tantrums!"

"Wait... B went to someone other than Agent A for parent advice?" The red and black onlooker questioned and Ellie shrugged. Danny had always been sort of parenting her since he was 16 and Dan once they learned he was aging lower and then the de-aging happened. She did remember that Danny got his first phone call about parent advice when he was around 24.

Now that Ellie thought about it. That was also around the time he took her aside to tell her about the emergency code.

"Which one of us do you guys think was the cause?"

"Wing."

"Hood."

"Demon Brat."

Ellie blinked once more, her attention turning back to the onlookers as thet started to argue among themselves. She tilted her head, watching them. Looks like she accidentally got them off topic. Though now she really wanted to get the story out of Danny once they rescued him. For years she had caught snippets of Danny's phone calls, to think that the guy on the other end was a armored spandex wearing furry. She couldn't wait to tell Dan about that.

Well, once their mom was saved and her brother stabilized again.

[sturnioz]

I just need some kitty and Nate team ups where they try to get Chris and bun to do cute things

note. this is from kittys (confident!reader) perspective. reason being, its to not only give you an insight to what bun seems like from another pov, but to also show you the friendship nate has with kitty cos i don't think i've written abt it yet.

"'kay, hear me out," nate's voice rings out the kitchen, pulling your attention away from the bowl of homemade hummus, looking up to see him rubbing his hands together with a wide grin plastered across his face. raising an eyebrow, you scoop some hummus with a tortilla chip and chew slowly, watching as he pulls out a chair and drops down beside you. "gingerbread house."

you blink, "what?"

"it's christmas, yeah? perfect time to start doin' some festivity shit—are you with me? you listenin'?" his eyes are fixed on you while you maintain a deadpan expression, crunching another chip between you teeth are you stare back. "right. so, i'm thinkin' we buy a few gingerbread house kits 'n get everyone to do it—including chris and the kid."

a sceptical smile creeps onto your face, "you really think chris would go out of his way to build a gingerbread house?"

"well, no, but m'sure we can get matt to convince him or somethin'," nate counters as he tries to reason, and you consider it for a moment, wondering if your boyfriend would help with your plan to get bun and chris to bond over something fun.

"maybe," you purse your lips in thought. "got any other ideas."

"carolling—"

"no."

"c'moooon..." nate groans, dramatically rubbing his face with his hands. "that shit will be fuckin' hilarious."

"and you're fucking insane if you think bun is going door to door singing in front of people," you scoff, grabbing another tortilla chip to scoop up more hummus. "what about some secret santa type of shit?"

nate leans in, his eyes sparkling. "go on, i'm listenin'..."

"we can put all our names into a hat, but we purposely make sure that they pick me and matt or something, so they can shop together for a couples gift—"

"why not pick me and bee?" nate interjects, his eyebrow raising as he drums his fingers on the table.

you tilt your head to the side, "you and bee are a couple now?"

"no..." nate murmurs, but a wide grin spreads across his cheeks. "but chris' got a loooot money 'n i would like a pricey little gift out of it."

you blink once again, your expression flat. "you're un-fucking-believable."

nate scoffs as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "as if you're not thinkin' the same thing. i know you've been eyeing those fuckin' black little chunky platforms, kitty. m'not stupid."

a smirk tugs at your lips, "i got them."

nate's eyebrows shoot up. "matt bought you those already?"

"no, idiot. i bought them for myself."

nate pulls a face, his tone incredulous. "you bought yourself a christmas gift?"

"mhm," you hum, taking another bite of your food. "independence, sweetheart."

"hey," nate puts his hands up in defence. "m'all for women's independence—i love my ma—but isn't christmas, like, the time where you make other people buy your gifts?"

"i had the money, so i bought it," you reply simply with a shrug of your shoulders, pushing your bowl of hummus to the side with a few leftover tortilla chips. "anyway, that doesn't matter. we're talking bun and chris."

"bun and chris," nate repeats with a slow nod as he reaches over to grab a tortilla chip, munching thoughtfully. "i don't think the secret santa is a good idea—"

"what? and building a gingerbread house is?" you shoot back.

"look, i know chris," nate says, his tone serious now. "and he isn't gonna go out lookin' for couples gifts. he'll just make her do it by herself."

you grumble, hating how right he is. the thought of chris leaving all the effort to bun makes your frustration bubble. plus, you know all to well how bun prefers to pick out something meaningful that reflects her relationship with each person, rather some couple item.

"and.." nate continues, sensing your hesitation and thoughts. "the kid isn't gonna buy some matching shit, she's all about personal."

"i know," you huff softly, leaning back in your own chair. "i think we're going to have to try and do the gingerbread idea."

"what gingerbread idea?" a quiet voice speaks from behind you, and you turn your head to see bun standing in the doorway of the kitchen — her eyes wide and curious as she stares at the two of you.

you coax her over with a smile, gesturing for her to join you. nate gently pushes out a chair with his foot, an invitation to sit, and bun carefully glides into the seat. you slide your bowl of hummus and tortilla chips in her direction, offering her something to eat.

"we're thinkin' of doin' some festivity shit for christmas," nate explains casually, keeping it light and not giving away full details of your plans. "you up for it, kid? decoratin' a gingerbread house?"

bun nods slowly, biting into the hummus covered tortilla chip. "yeah.. sounds fun."

you can't help but smile at her response, knocking your shoulder gently against hers as you assure her it'll only be the frat house participating in decorating and the moment you see her relax at that, a sense of relief washes over you.

with a smirk, you dip your hand beneath the table for nate to give you a sneaky high-five, the light slap of your palms barely heard by bun as she continues eating — your plan coming together perfectly.

you hope, anyway.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[fobarchiveteam]

The Fall Out Boy 2001 Demo... and the fact that there's actually two of them!

A few years ago, the wonderful Dave Hofer, who owns the DuPage County Hardcore Archive, uploaded the first Fall Out Boy demo from 2001 onto his archive, revealing its existence to the world. Dave was able to locate both a copy of the CD and the cassette versions of this demo, finding out that limited amounts of CDrs and around 100 cassettes were ever made. The CDr has uncut and unmastered versions of the recordings that later appear on the Project Rocket split, but the cassette contains completely different recordings for the first two songs, while an original song that is found nowhere else called “A Nice Myth” replaces Moving Pictures. The truth is that these are actually two separate demos: the cassette recordings came first. These demos were both made in 2001. For the first demo, the band consisted of Patrick on vocals, Pete on bass, Joe on guitar, and two other members who only lasted for a short time in the band: Ben Rose on drums, and John Flamadan on rhythm guitar. It was recorded on an 8-track in Ben’s basement. That 8-track was later turned into the cassette, of course. Both Ben and John left shortly after, and Jared Logan and TJ Kunasch replaced them on the CDr recordings respectively. What you may not know is there was an even rarer version of the CDr demo made: two types of lathe cuts.

These lathe cuts were posted on Discogs as pictures years before Dave’s discovery, so they sat dormant and undiscovered by FOB fans for a long time. After researching the cassettes and CDs for our archive, we stumbled upon these pictures and were perplexed that nobody has mentioned this version elsewhere before. Although this was not really a “new” discovery, we were still intrigued. We contacted the uploader of the picture, and this is what he had to say:

Hey!! Yeah it's honestly a crazy story on how I acquired it, but I believe it's legit. Basically, a few years back (I think 2018 or 19? The listing on the page for the clear version that sold for $0.50 or something crazy was from me, that's how I bought it). I messaged a guy on here that had the CD added in his collection if he would be willing to send me the mp3s/WAV files for his copy, and he did. We talked for a bit about the band and he said I seemed knowledgeable about the band and asked if I wanted his second copy of the lathe (he had two, one clear, one black). I obviously was like "hell yeah dude" and he said he would ship it to me. Fast forward a few weeks (he lived in Australia or some shit) and low & behold, I actually got the damn thing in the mail, plus two promo trading cards from the TTTYG album cycle, one with Andy & one with Joe. A few years later he messaged me that he got in touch with the dude that made the lathes for the band (he was based in Chicago which makes sense). Apparently 26 copies were cut & only 20 got labels thrown on them, members of the band slapped them on themselves. They were only in white paper sleeves, not any picture sleeves unfortunately. The sound quality on them is actually pretty decent for a lathe made in 2001, which is what leads me to believe it's legit. Also, like you had mentioned, the songs didn't leak until a few years back, when I got it I had never heard these versions (it's just the Project Rocket split versions uncut & unmastered essentially, same versions as the ones that leaked from the CD version. That is pretty much all the info I have on it, I hoped that helped some!!

Cheers from Florida - Jake

He later followed up with:

If I'm not mistaken, I believe the guy I got it from got both the clear and black copies verified to be legit by the guy that made them. Also small detail I forgot to include before, he obtained both copies through a lot of FOB merch from eBay. He was looking to get a complete set of TTTYG trading cards, which is why he bought it. But I know in the lot he also got the two lathes & a demo CD, I forget what else he had mentioned. It's odd that the band hasn't spoken of their existence, maybe they forgot? The lathes were probably more of a novelty item than anything, considering that vinyl wasn't very popular in 2001 & they weren't packaged as "properly" as the CDs & tapes, plus they made a lot less of them. I'm assuming they just kinda got tossed around between friends of the band or got sold at random at their early shows. Either way, it's been one of my prized possessions since I've acquired it, let me know if hou have any other questions on it haha

Currently we have no idea who this elusive Chicago lathe maker is, but maybe we may find out one day. These lathe cuts may possibly be the rarest FOB merch in existence.

Side note: The fact that the top title on the cassette specific insert says "Fallout Boy - Growing Up" and then later lists Growing Up as a song below, it may have been intended to be the title of the cassette, and the song was a title track. This is unconfirmed though.

[webslingingslasher]

ok but he’s so lame bc why NOT just the tip

her gorilla grip coochie isn’t gonna vacuum suck his dick all the way in 😭😭😭😭😭

(it might)

but like.... if he did one night? i mean, after you've done everything but that and you're a little extra pleading and... *nsfw content!*

'just the tip.'

'no.'

'c'mon, peter. sex is next so think of this as a... i don't know, a baby step! yeah, this is educational if you think about it, just another way of preparing me for the next thing!'

peter's looking over your face, he always thought it was a joke but you've thought it out. peter sees a lightbulb appear over your head.

'plus i'm all primed, if you know what i mean... i mean how you just ate me out, so i'm all wet and there's less risk of it h-'

'i know what you mean.' you grin, it was peter's turn next anyways, why not throw this into the mix first? 'cool. it's just the tip, it probably won't feel like anything, anyways.'

'thanks, cherry. that's very kind of you.' you wince, 'sorry. obviously i'm gonna feel something but it won't be like i'm being split in half. unless-'

'you're serious.' you actually want him to do it. you furrow your eyebrows, isn't it obvious? 'well, yeah.'

'i always thought you were joking, but no, you're serious.'

you shift around and tug peter's blanket down, you spread wide for him. 'so serious.' he's hesitant, you lightly kick him and lower your voice.

'don't you wanna be in me?' peter's throbbing, he's just a man at heart, he can only be so good and he's been very good up until now, he's allowed this.

'so bad.' you have no idea how long he's been waiting for this. no idea. 'then come here and give me the tip.' you make grabby hands, your heart's drumming hard, you're about to get what you want.

you almost scream out in excitement when he settles between your legs, lifting your hips to have your thighs rest on his. shifting, he's almost where you want him, you're held down with his hand on your tummy, you're gripping around nothing.

'i need a condom.' peter leans over you, you pull his arm down. 'no you don't, it's just the tip.'

'that's not how it works.'

you shake your head, 'i'm on birth control. i have been for years, it helps with my period.' peter's never done anything without a barrier, he's unsure but you know how to talk him into it.

'i just wanna feel you, don't i deserve the real thing?' if it was anyone else peter would be backing out calling for a baby trap, but with you he just falls in and can't think straight.

'you can have anything you want.' you can, peter wants to do nothing but make you happy. he loves when you're happy because you got your way.

'yeah?' your pupils are blown wide, you reach for him, begging for him to come just a little closer. 'wanna give me what i want?' peter's hot, he's about to start sweating and he hasn't done anything but rest your thighs on his and contain himself.

you hold your breath in anticipation. peter grips the headboard with his left hand as support, his right hand goes down, you startle when you feel... something collecting your slick.

his tip brushes over your clit, you bite down on your bottom lip. you can't stop from squeaking when a string of spit falls from peter's mouth, watching him softly jerk himself for a moment before lining up. it's filthy. you want all of him.

'we're not having sex.' you're not sure if peter was setting the rule for you or him, it doesn't matter, you agree with him. 'it's just the tip. that's it.'

peter nods once, 'just the tip.' his hips move, your hand slams down, you're searching for his. 'hold my hand, hold my hand, hold my-' peter has to switch, his left has control and his right has yours.

they're intertwined, it's less scary now. 'okay, i'm ready.' your lower stomach tightens and relaxes, your hips move with his, you feel him press in closer and closer and closer- your hand squeezes his- peter's back to holding the headboard.

you gasp loudly at the pressure, you melt into his sheets and throw your head back. unexpected reaction, you laugh lightly, not because it's funny, because 'it feels so fucking good.'

peter's fingers go white around the wood, he's using every single atom in his body to show restraint. the hand you're not holding his with, pulls at his waist.

'give me more.' peter feels the board bending under his grip, he's better than his, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't how you were supposed to lose your virginity.

'it's like you're teasing me.' peter speaks through gritted teeth, all his focus was on not doing what you were asking. 'yeah, honey, that's the problem with just the tip, it's never just the tip.'

'mhm. i feel so full, oh my god.'

peter breaks his headboard.

half is ripped from the other, you go from pleasure to shock, you push at his chest while trying to sit up, pulling away from him entirely. 'oh my god! oh my god, what the fuck!'

dust floats over you, you cover your head, you're trying to figure out what happened. was it a bomb? and earthquake? an exploding manhole?

'peter, what the fuck was that? what happened?'

you. you happened. with the words and the noises and the begging and he couldn't fucking hold back anymore. his headboard paid the price, he can't believe what he just did.

'i don't... i don't know. i was just holding on and...' how is he supposed to explain this one? 'well, obviously it was a defective one! oh my god, are you okay?' you rip your arms away from your head, you sit up and stare at him.

'am i okay?' peter nods fast, his thumbs brush under your eyes, 'you're okay. i'm okay. we're okay.' you rest your hands over his, you stare at the half crumpled wood on the floor. you've held onto it many times, it was sturdy. you're questioning your theory.

'how the hell did that happen? it looks like you fucking ripped it apart!'

he did.

'i have no idea.' you stand up to grab your underwear and a shirt, you make some very clear points. 'okay, you need a new headboard and absolutely no more 'just the tip,' until you get one of quality. imagine if that came down on my head, i would be dead with just the tip in me!'

'i wouldn't let that happen, i'd give you the whole thing so you wouldn't die a virgin.' you pout softly, 'aw. you love me.' peter smiles, his fingers pinch together. 'a little bit.'

you stare at the mess on the floor, little pieces of wood splintered away on the fall down. 'hey- so do you think we're being punished for-'

'no.' 

[lizziesangel]

TOM RIDDLE - family trip

x FEM!SOUTH KOREAN!reader - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request 🫶

GENRE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 3659

CONTENT WARNING: soft!tom, grumpy x sunshine trope, modern au! NOT proofread

bold = Korean

you sat on one of the hard chairs, in the library with a small but thoughtful smile on your face. a few feet away was tom, engrossed in his potions textbook, his dark brows slightly furrowed with concentration. he was always like that. calm, collected and oddly charming. 

for a while you had been excited about your upcoming family vacation to Seoul. your parents had been talking about it for months - visiting your grandparents again, walking around the city, feeling more connected with your home. but the best of all, the food. you missed the food so much, it’s not that hogwarts doesn’t have good seasoned dishes. it's just that nothing beats the food in South-Korea. 

still, there was one thing bugging you. your sister was going to bring her fiancé, and you really didn’t want to be a fifth wheel. so, you wanted to invite tom, your boyfriend.

somehow, he tolerated your endless chattering and energy. he wasn’t the most social person to exist, but he seemed to gravitate towards you, even if it was with a slight exasperated sigh every time you smiled at him.

you glanced over at him, taking in his sharp features that were illuminated by the glow of the light, his pale skin contrasting against his black robes, and there was that constant air of misery around him.

“tom?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence around him.

he didn’t look up from his book, but you saw how his fingers twitched slightly in acknowledgment. it was his way of telling you he was listening.

“so... i’m going to Seoul with my family for the break,” you paused, trying not to show your nerves. “you know, next week we’re leaving, and.. well, i thought… maybe you’d like to come with me?”

after finishing your sentence, tom lifted his gaze, his dark eyes met yours. for a moment, there was silence, you could see the gears turning in his mind. his brow furrows deeper.

“why would i join your family trip?” his tone was calm with a little bit of confusion. it was almost as if he couldn’t fathom why you’d want him to tag along.

you gave him a bright smile, “because it would be fun! you’ve never been, right? it’s beautiful there this time of year, and i could show you around my home town! you spend so much time in the castle, tom… it would be nice to get away. don’t you think?”

“plus… i’d really like it if you came.”

tom stared at you for a few more seconds. he was used to being on his own in the castle, used to people fearing him, following him blindly or admiring him from afar. but you were different. you weren’t scared of him, nor were you trying to get something from him. you were just… you. annoying, loud, always dragging him into conversations about the most dumb things, and yet there was something about your presence that soothed him in ways he didn’t and couldn’t fully understand.

“i still don’t see the point,” he finally muttered back, turning back to his book, though he wasn’t reading anymore.

you sighed softly, though your smile didn’t falter. you had been prepared for his reluctance. “well, think of it as… something to learn from. and i promise i wont talk your ear off. we could just… walk around, explore a bit, go shopping. you might just like it.”

tom didn’t respond immediately, but you saw the way his fingers drummed lightly against the table. a sign that he was considering it. you waited, knowing better than to push him, merlin knows what happened last time. finally, he spoke again.

“and your family? they wouldn’t mind?”

your heart did a little flip at his question. did that mean he was actually considering it? “of course they don’t! they’d love to meet you. i’ve already told them about you.”

tom raised an eyebrow at that, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. “have you now? what exactly have you told them?”

“oh, you know, the usual,” you teased, leaning forward a little, “just that you’re a little broody, very mysterious, but not as scary as you like to pretend.”

he rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his lips turned up a bit.

you bit your cheek, watching him closely. “so… will you come? it would be nice to spend some time together outside of hogwarts.”

tom closed his book, placing it on the small table beside him. he leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful as he regarded you. you knew he wasn’t one for spontaneous decisions, but you could see the slight tug of curiosity in his eyes.

“fine,” he said after what felt like an eternity. “i’ll go.”

you beamed at him, your eyes lighting up in that way that made him avert his gaze, suddenly feeling warm under your gaze. “really? oh, tom, this is going to be so much fun! i’ll show you all the best places to eat, and we can go shopping, and—”

he held up a hand, cutting you off with a groan. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. i haven’t agreed to… whatever that madness is.”

you laughed, the sound bright and warm, and tom found himself relaxing despite himself. you had that effect on him, as much as he pretended not to notice.

“whatever you say, tom,” you said, still smiling. “but i know you’ll enjoy it. maybe you’ll even smile by the end of the trip.”

“i wouldn’t count on that,” he muttered, though his lips twitched slightly, again, betraying him.

you grinned wider, already excited about the adventure ahead. tom might have been a grumpy, brooding enigma, but you could see the way his edges softened around you.

the countryside of england was quiet and serene as you and tom walked up the gravel path to your family’s cottage. the familiar sight of the ivy-covered house made your heart race with a mix of excitement and nerves. you had prepared yourself for this moment for days, rehearsing how you would introduce tom to your parents, especially to your mother, who was known for being both blunt and unfiltered.

tom, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. his expression remained as calm and unreadable as ever, his dark eyes flickering over the house, taking in every detail as if he were analyzing it. his presence was, as always, effortlessly commanding, and you found yourself glancing at him every now and then, wondering how he managed to look so composed.

“you don’t have to look so serious,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension building in your chest. “it’s just my parents. they’re… intense, but they’ll love you. i mean, you’re—”

“i’m what?” tom’s voice was smooth, with a hint of amusement lurking behind his otherwise cool tone.

“you’re—handsome,” you blurted out, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “and… smart. that usually works in your favor.”

tom’s lips quirked up into the faintest of smirks. “i’m sure that’ll make all the difference.”

you rolled your eyes, pushing the door open and stepping into the warmth of your childhood home. the smell of home-cooked food wafted through the air, and you could hear the sound of your sister, chatting with her boyfriend in the living room. the familiar clatter of your mother in the kitchen made your nerves spike.

“my daughter, is that you?” your mom’s voice called out from the kitchen.

“yes, it’s me!” you called back, taking a deep breath as you pulled tom in behind you. “and… i brought someone with me.”

a few seconds later, your mother appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. she was small but formidable, her eyes sharp and always assessing. as soon as her gaze landed on tom, she froze, her eyes widening just slightly in surprise. her gaze flicked over his tall frame, his perfectly pressed coat, and his aristocratic features.

“oh,” she said, her tone thoughtful as she slowly approached the two of you. “oh my.”

you bit your lip, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come out of her mouth.

“he’s… very handsome.” she glanced at you, her expression still serious. “you didn’t tell me he was this handsome.”

“mum,” you groaned, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

but your mother wasn’t finished. she turned back to tom, looking him up and down again, her lips pursed as if she were assessing something important. “too bad he’s, you know…” she made a vague gesture with her hand, her expression turning sympathetic. “too bad he’s white.”

you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. tom, however, remained completely composed, though you noticed the brief flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“eomma, stop,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you glanced at tom, who appeared far too entertained by your mother’s bluntness.

before your mother could say anything else, your father appeared from the hallway, clearly having overheard the conversation. he shot your mom a look of exasperation. “oh for heaven’s sake, woman, stop embarrassing the girl.”

“i’m not embarrassing her,” your mother huffed, crossing her arms. "i'm just honest."

your father sighed, shaking his head as he turned to tom. “i’m sorry about her. she’s got no filter. you must be tom.” he extended his hand with a warm smile. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

tom shook his hand firmly, his voice smooth and polite. “it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

your father gave an approving nod, clearly pleased with tom’s manners, while your mother was still standing there, muttering something under her breath about “too bad he’s white.”

at that moment, your sister walked in with her fiancé trailing behind her. she shot you a knowing look, a smirk playing on her lips. “mum, you’ve been hovering for the past five minutes. you need to let her breathe.”

your mother huffed, but you could tell she was warming up to tom despite her earlier remark. “okay, fine,” she said, turning back to the kitchen. “dinner’s almost ready. i hope you’re hungry, y/n. and you,” she pointed at tom with mock sternness, “you better eat. you’re looking too thin.”

dinner went smoother than you expected after that. your mother, clearly smitten with tom’s manners. it was clear how much kinder and warmer she was throughout the meal. she kept asking him about his life, his interests, and how he managed to “keep such perfect posture.” your dad was quieter but clearly approving, especially when tom spoke so eloquently about his studies.

your sister and her fiancé exchanged amused glances throughout the evening, and every time your mother said something even remotely embarrassing, s/n would give you a look that said, told you so.

you stood at the departure gate with your parents, sister, her fiancé, minhyuk, waiting for your flight to seoul to be called.

tom, standing beside you, looked as composed as ever, even with your father and minhyuk deep in a conversation about the most recent football match and your mother fussing over her travel bag. s/n was busy scrolling on her phone, leaning against minhyuk, who had a calming presence that seemed to balance out your sister’s usual impatience.

your mother shot tom a careful look, her brows furrowed. “this must be so new for you, isn’t it, tom? have you ever been to south korea before?”

“no, ma’am,” he replied politely, a slight smile on his face. “but i’m looking forward to it.”

she gave him an approving nod. she’d warmed to him considerably since that first awkward dinner in england, and although she was still getting used to his reserved nature, she seemed charmed by his calm demeanor.

“good. i think you’ll love it. our grandparents are… well, very traditional. they may ask you a lot of questions,” your sister warned, her tone half-amused, half-serious.

you nudged tom gently, whispering, “they’ll love you. just don’t be too… tom-like.”

he raised an eyebrow, giving you a look that was almost amused. “and what exactly does that mean?”

you grinned. “maybe just… smile a bit more.”

“i can’t make any promises.”

finally, the boarding call echoed through the airport, and you all gathered your things, heading toward the gate.

your sister was started chattering away about her wedding plans, and minhyuk was nodding along patiently. as you boarded, you leaned closer to tom, excited yet nervous about introducing him to your grandparents, who were the heart of your family, especially in seoul.

the flight was long but surprisingly smooth. tom spent most of it reading, while you caught up on sleep and listened to your family chatter. once the plane finally landed, the humid air of seoul washed over you as you exited the terminal, and the familiar sights and sounds of the city made your heart swell.

your grandparents’ home was tucked in a quieter part of seoul, a traditional hanok-style house with a courtyard, paper doors, and a big garden. the smell of incense and fresh herbs filled the air as you approached the house, your nerves starting to build as you glanced at tom, who was taking in his surroundings with a curious gaze.

“remember,” you whispered to him, “be polite, and if my grandmother offers you food, do not refuse. even if you’re full.”

he nodded, his gaze softening as he met yours. “i’ll do my best.”

your grandparents were waiting at the doorway, dressed in traditional hanbok, their faces lighting up as they saw you approaching with your family. your grandmother, small but sharp-eyed, immediately came forward, her hands clasped in front of her as she looked you over with a warm, approving smile.

“ah, y/n,” she murmured, pulling you into a gentle hug, “it’s so good to see you, my dear.”

“it’s good to see you too, halmeoni,” you said, returning the hug. then, turning to tom, you gestured to him with a smile. “this is tom… my, um, boyfriend.”

your grandmother’s eyes shifted to tom, her expression unreadable at first. she looked him over, taking in his carefully pressed clothes and calm demeanor. for a moment, you were nervous, but then her face softened.

“ah, so this is tom,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “you’ve chosen someone very handsome, y/n.”

your cheeks burned as you translated her words for tom, who gave her a polite bow, just as you’d instructed him. “thank you, ma’am,” he replied, his voice steady.

your grandfather stepped forward next, his gaze intense but not unkind. he nodded at tom, looking almost impressed by the young man’s composure. “and what is it that you study, tom?”

“i study magic, sir,” tom replied, glancing at you briefly, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. “though, in this case, i imagine y/n has already told you all about it.”

your grandfather nodded, his gaze softening a little. “yes, she has,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful. “we don’t fully understand, but… if y/n trusts you, that is enough.”

you felt a wave of relief as tom received this nod of approval. your grandparents, while supportive, held tradition dear and didn’t often warm up to newcomers right away. but tom, with his polite nature and steady gaze, seemed to have made a good impression.

your grandmother turned to your mother, giving her a knowing smile. “and, of course, it’s too bad he’s… you know.” she gave tom a playful look, her eyes sparkling. “too bad he’s not korean.”

your mother let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes as she tried to stifle a laugh. “honestly, mother, that is what i have been telling everyone!”

you groaned, covering your face.

tom, however, only smirked, looking at you with a glimmer of amusement. “i’m afraid i’ll have to apologize for that, ma’am.”

your grandmother chuckled, clearly delighted by his response. “he has a good sense of humor,” she said approvingly, patting your shoulder. “that’s important.”

s/n, who had been watching with an amused smile, chimed in, “we should get going before the food gets cold.”

minhyuk nodded, wrapping an arm around s/n. “she’s right. we should head out soon.”

your grandparents waved you all in, ushering you into their home where the warm, familiar smells of kimchi and ramen greeted you.

as everyone settled in, your grandmother kept fussing over tom, asking him questions about his studies and his life back in england. despite the cultural differences, he answered her questions with a level of patience and politeness that seemed to earn him even more favor.

halfway through the meal, your grandmother leaned over to you, her voice quiet but warm. “he’s a good one, y/n. i see why you like him.”

you felt your face heat up, glancing at tom, who was carefully eating his meal, fully engrossed in your grandfather’s story about life in the countryside. somehow, amidst the laughter, the delicious food, and your family’s chatter, the evening felt more complete with him by your side.

as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude. tom had seamlessly become part of your world, navigating the quirks of your family with ease, and though he rarely showed it, you could see the faintest hint of enjoyment in his eyes.

as you walked back with him to your temporary guest room after dinner, he finally broke his silence, glancing down at you with that familiar, unreadable look. “your grandparents are… interesting,” he murmured, the faintest smile on his lips.

“they’re intense, i know,” you admitted with a laugh. “but they seemed to like you.”

“i should hope so,” he replied, his voice soft. “i had to win someone over if i plan to keep you around.”

you laughed, reaching for his hand. “well, you’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

tom’s fingers intertwined with yours, the warmth of his hand sending a comforting spark through you. despite his usually reserved nature, tonight he seemed genuinely relaxed, even… a bit joyful. you watched him closely as he reached for his plate once more, refilling it with another generous portion of kimchi stew, rice, and banchan—his third helping.

your grandmother’s eyes widened as she caught him reaching for more, her gaze landing on tom with a surprised but delighted smile. “tom,” she chuckled, folding her hands in her lap, “aren’t you full, dear? that’s your third plate!”

tom, looking momentarily caught off guard, met her gaze and offered a small, polite nod. “yes, i am full,” he admitted, a hint of softness in his otherwise steady tone.

your breath was caught in your throat.

“but this is… very good. i can’t help myself.”

your grandmother’s face broke into a proud grin, her eyes shining as she glanced around the table. “ah, see? that’s a man who knows good food!” she declared, nudging your grandfather’s shoulder playfully. “our y/n brought home someone who appreciates a good meal!”

your grandfather, who’d been listening with a faint smile, chuckled in agreement and reached for his own plate, refilling it with a generous helping of rice and stew. “well, then, i suppose i can’t let him eat alone. it would be rude.”

the two of them shared a conspiratorial smile, and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as tom joined in their easy humor, his lips quirking in that rare, genuine smile you loved so much.

your father, clearly inspired by the moment, reached out to refill his plate as well, aiming for the large serving bowl of kimchi ramen.

but before he could scoop any more noodles, your mother’s hand shot out, swatting his away with a quick smack.

“oh no, you don’t,” she scolded, narrowing her eyes at him. “you’ve had four plates already. leave some for everyone else!”

"besides you’ll complain to me later about a stomach ache.”

your father gave her a sheepish look, rubbing his hand as he chuckled. “just one more bowl, honey. i don’t want to let tom eat alone.”

your mother rolled her eyes, “please, you’re not fooling anyone. your ‘just one more bowl’ has already happened three times.”

meanwhile, you glanced at tom, amused as he quietly resumed eating, his composure never wavering despite the affectionate chaos unfolding around him. he was savoring each bite, completely unfazed by the scene.

leaning closer to him, you murmured, “you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

he turned to you, eyes bright with an almost mischievous glint. “more than you know,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

just then, your grandmother leaned across the table to place a bowl of extra kimchi right in front of tom, her smile approving as she patted his shoulder lightly. “eat as much as you want, tom,” she said, nodding. “a young man like you needs his strength.”

tom, ever the gentleman, inclined his head. “thank you, halmeoni. i don’t think i’ll be able to stop.”

“good,” she replied, pleased, casting another approving glance at you. “y/n, he fits right in.”

you grinned, feeling your heart warm as tom and your family laughed together, the sound blending with the warm night air.

you smiled at tom, squeezing his hand. “you fit right in.”

your grandmother, still beaming, looked at tom with a newfound admiration. “you know, my mother used to say that a big appetite is the sign of a big heart.”

tom seemed to soften even more, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “i’ll have to remember that,” he replied, his voice low but sincere.

your grandfather chuckled, giving tom an approving nod. “you’re welcome at our table anytime, tom. just make sure you bring your appetite.”

with that, the table erupted into more laughter and chatter, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling your heart swell. tom was right there beside you, finally sharing in the joy of your family, and you knew this night would stay with you for a long time.

[earth2steve]

would love some eddie fluff! currentlydaydreaming about being his passenger princess

warnings: fluff! suggestive content. fem reader. 650 words

a/n: please talk to me/send requests anytime i am a chronic yapper!! thank u for reading <33

“you can get ink poisoning from this stuff, y’know. it like, seeps into your bloodstream. i could be dying.”

your arm, hanging out the passenger window of eddie’s van, is branded from wrist to elbow in sharpie doodles of spiders and dead flowers.

sparing you a glance from where his gaze is settled on the road ahead, eddie rolls his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head. “yeah, and sitting too close to the tv makes you blind. relax, sweetheart.” 

he’s got one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, kneading and prodding at your skin with ringed fingers. sometimes he'll drum along to a song on the radio or on loop in his head - today he just squeezes.

“i’m serious, you douchebag.”

“so am i. there’s no way thats gonna give you ink poisoning in one go. plus, you’re not allowed to die before me.”

you already have a retort bubbling beneath the surface, something about having poison control on speed dial, but sometimes its nicer just to let him talk. especially when he's so nice to look at. you can tell today was a hair wash day - it's dried all fluffy in the spring air and the sunlight turns it caramel.

“and i," he pauses, and with the kind of dramatic affectation that seems to come as natural to him as breathing, lifts one hand from the wheel; "am quickly building a habit of cheating death."

your heart swells in your chest. “lucky me."

he smiles at you, blinding, and you have to look away again in an instant. it’s so devastatingly handsome that you feel a little bit sick. 

“aww, honey - you're only saying that cause you just had my tongue down your throat.” 

he punctuates his words with another squeeze of your thigh. he’s right. your mouth still tastes of the dr pepper in his cupholder.

“stop talking shit if you wanna put it anywhere near me again.”

eddie pretends to lose control of the wheel then, voice pitching up two octaves as his steering hand slaps harshly at his chest. “near you? near you? you’re seriously understating my perversions here, sweetheart.”

the van barely wobbles, but your heart nearly falls out of your ass just the same.

"eddie!"

he drops the act a few seconds too late for your liking, smiling gentle and putting his hand back on the wheel. you roll your eyes and hide a smile into your lap.

“idiot. are we going out or staying in tonight?”

he thinks about it for not longer than a few seconds, sighing low and even. “whatever you like, angel. got a microwave lasagna with your pretty name all over it, if that'll sway your decision."

a little hum of satisfaction bubbles up from your chest and fills the air between you. eddie smiles at the sound like he’s just won an oscar. you want him to look at you like that forever.

“sure. just -uh, you’re sure you don’t mind being cooped up again? i know you haven't seen the guys in a while-”

eddie’s hand on your thigh squeezes tight around your flesh. the skull on his index finger brushes a lovely spot where the seam of your jeans usually indents.

“never. 's a crucial part of my mystique. 'where’s munson fucked off to?' nobody knows.”

he does a ridiculous little hand gesture as he speaks. it makes you want to pull over and kiss him silly. 

instead you settle for lifting his hand on your leg and biting the top of his hand affectionately. 

eddie sighs all dreamy like a disney princess, eyes flicking from the road momentarily to watch your teeth sink into his skin. 

“god you’re weird. i’m obsessed with you.”

your whole body lights up from within.

"good. take me home, and then we can circle back to those perversions."

"yes m'aam."

[mistydeyes]

just a cute little moment with ghost i was hoping u could write pls 🤭

imagine simon being gone on a mission and your house was feeling so empty and lonely.

So..... you decide to adopt a dog from the shelter to mend your loneliness and waited to surprise him with the new addition to the riley family!

On the other hand, Simon felt terrible for leaving you for months on end. To keep you company and protected, he brings home *drum roll pls*

another dog!!

The look on both of your faces when he comes through the door with dog in his arms and you with a little pup on your lap already 😭😭

(hope this isn't confusing lmao)

AHHH this is so cute and precious! love simon being a dog person fr fr

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summary: With Simon gone on some unknown mission, you decide to welcome a new member to the family. However, despite how much you love the friendly little guy, Simon has other ideas on pets.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

warnings: none :)

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"Hi, Simon," you smiled through the phone. "Hello, love, how are you?" he asked and you relaxed into the plush blanket on the couch. "Mhmm, same old, same old," you said, trailing off towards the end as if you had something to hide, "but how have you been, haven't heard any updates." You bit your lip as the line went quiet for a moment, you kicked your feet slightly in anticipation. "Something you want to talk about? Sorry, it's been a while since we've gotten stable service," he said, a soft kindness in his whisper. Before you could reply, a soft bark resounded through your shared flat as a car drove down your lane. "What was that?" Simon asked suddenly, "Someone's dog get loose?" As your newest and surprise addition to the Riley family came running to your side, you struggled to hold the phone and settle him down with soft pats and belly rubs. You hadn't intentionally wanted to adopt a dog without Simon but something about the young pup at the local adoption center made your heart melt. Plus you were no stranger to managing a new pet. However, your failure to answer gave Simon a full assumption as to the current state of your home.

"Did-did you adopt a dog?" he asked almost holding his breath, "please, just tell me." With that, the secret was out and you silently cursed your all too observational fiancé. "I'm sorry," you blurted out, "it's just too lonely without you here and you know how the colder seasons make me feel." You tried to calm your excuses by cuddling up to your big-eyed, gentle Golden Shepherd but were immediately off put by the sudden laugh filling your ears from the other line. "Please tell me it's at least a guard dog breed," he said between laughs and you felt your held breath relax. "Um you could say that," you replied as you smiled down to the bundle of fur curled up to your side, "he can be menacing at times." "To the mail carrier or actual intruders?" he joked a slight hint of sarcasm on his tongue. "I'll send you a photo so you can judge for yourself," you huffed but before the conversation could continue any further, you heard the call suddenly drop.

You pouted a bit as you looked down at Bones, your newest companion for the coming months. "Smile for your dad," you said happily before sending the picture off to Simon to see eventually. At the end of the week, your phone dinged with an incoming message. "golden shepherds are not guard dogs." it said simply and you were sure to spam him with more photos of you and Bones' latest adventures.

You lazily lounged around the flat as you looked at your phone's calendar. Simon's mission had been extended 6 more months from his initial departure date and since that update, you had heard little since. You put down your phone dejectedly before filling up Bones' bowl of food and water. As you turned with the bowl in hand, you practically jumped when the door knob turned. Bones ran towards it rapidly as you chased after him, nearly colliding with your kitchen island. "Easy now," you commanded sharply, pulling him by his collar. "Guess he is a guard dog after all," a familiar voice spoke and your eyes met with Simon's. You immediately jumped to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he levied a cardboard box into his other arm. As you reunited after many long months, you were monetarily blinded to the small bundle of fur peeking out from the top. "What's this, Simon?" you asked as you paused your barrage of kisses. "Look for yourself," he smirked, putting the box in your hand. Inside, a small Belgian Malinois began to lick your face. As you laughed giddily at the affections, Simon led you to the couch with Bones following cautiously. "Since you don't have much of a scary one here," he said pausing to pat Bones on the head, "thought he and you could use a companion." You nodded as you put the small puppy in your lap. "Well now that we have two children," you said turning to him, "you better be staying for a while now, Riley."