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zapreportsblog · 1 year

Note

You know the “opposites attract” relationships?

How about do one with Brahms?

Brahms - clingy, protective, stiff

Reader - calm, trusting, soft

Brahms X calm! Reader

Thank youuuuu :)

❝clingy❞

✭ pairing : brahms heelshire x reader

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : brahms is one hell of a touch starved man and when (y/n) came into his life he expected her to be just like all the others, but she isn’t. In fact she embraces him with welcome arms so does that mean all those people who left him are because it’s his fault?

✭ slashers masterlist

The wind whispered through the ancient trees that surrounded Heelshire Manor, casting eerie shadows on its aged façade. (Y/N) had applied for a simple job months ago, never imagining how peculiar her new role would become. The advertisement had called for a caretaker, someone to oversee the estate's unique collection of antiques and curiosities. Little did she know, her main charge would be a doll of all things.

The first time she laid eyes on the doll, she was taken aback. It was an exquisitely crafted replica of a man, dressed in aristocratic attire from a bygone era. The porcelain face bore an uncanny resemblance to the owner of the manor, Brahms Heelshire, whose family had owned the estate for generations. The locals whispered tales of the Hellshire curse, and their peculiar fascination only fueled the sense of mystery that hung over the manor.

As (Y/N) settled into her role, her days were filled with dusting ancient furniture, polishing silverware, and, most importantly, attending to the doll. The instructions were simple: ensure the doll's clothing remained impeccable, the porcelain visage remained pristine, and its position on the mantel stayed undisturbed. The task was mundane, yet it carried an air of reverence, as if the doll held some deeper significance that transcended its appearance.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) gradually grew accustomed to her routine. The mansion's interior was an amalgamation of faded opulence and eerie silence. The walls seemed to whisper secrets, and the portraits of long-departed Heelshire ancestors stared down with solemn gazes. Every creak and rustle echoed through the hallways, keeping her senses on high alert.

One evening, as she carefully adjusted the doll's coat collar, she felt an inexplicable shiver run down her spine. A feeling of being watched settled over her, but she brushed it off as her imagination running wild. That night, though, as she lay in bed, she could have sworn she heard faint whispers carried on the breeze.

The following days brought a series of odd occurrences: a book left open to a specific page she hadn't touched, a teacup shifted slightly on its saucer. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was playing tricks on her, but each time she looked around, the empty rooms offered no answers.

It was on the night of a thunderstorm that everything changed. Lightning illuminated the mansion's darkened interior, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. (Y/N) found herself drawn to the doll, her fingers tracing its delicate features in the dim light.

And then, as the thunder roared and rain beat against the windows, she heard a whisper so faint it might have been her own imagination. "(Y/N)…" The voice seemed to emanate from within the doll itself.

Startled, she stumbled back, her heart racing. But then, as if responding to an unseen presence, the doll's eyes blinked. A shock of realization coursed through her: the doll was no mere doll; it was a conduit to something more.

"(Y/N)…" The voice was clearer this time, resonating through the room. She watched in awe as the doll's porcelain skin began to soften, its limbs shifting, as if a dormant life was awakening.

And then, from the doll's heart, a figure emerged. A man, dressed in period clothing, stood before her, his eyes fixed upon her with a mix of curiosity and caution. It was Brahms Heelshire himself, or a spectral semblance of him.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other in silence. (Y/N) was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, her heart pounding in her chest. But amidst the shock and fear, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

The man, or whatever he was, spoke softly, his voice tinged with both melancholy and yearning. "You did not flee, as others before you have. Why?"

With a steady breath, (Y/N) met his gaze. "I believe that even the most peculiar of situations deserve a chance to be understood. And, in all honesty, I've grown fond of the company, even if it's a doll or a spectral form."

A ghostly smile touched his lips, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "You’re courageous , (Y/N)."

And so, an unusual connection was forged within the walls of Heelshire Manor — a connection that transcended the boundaries between the living and the spectral. As (Y/N) continued her role as caretaker, the enigmatic Brahms Heelshire ventured forth from his hidden existence within the doll, revealing himself to her in a way no one else had dared to witness.

Over the course of the next few months and then two years, an unexpected bond blossomed between (Y/N) and Brahms. As the seasons changed, so did their relationship, evolving into something far beyond what (Y/N) could have ever anticipated. She had become accustomed to Brahms' spectral presence, his masked face a constant companion. Despite his initial mysterious aura, she found comfort in his company and the intriguing conversations they shared.

Brahms, for his part, reveled in the connection he had forged with (Y/N). No longer confined to the doll's form, he wandered the mansion's halls and rooms, always keeping a respectful distance from her. Yet, he was undeniably clingy, often hovering nearby, his presence an unspoken reassurance. His touch starvation, accumulated over years of isolation, drove him to seek her proximity. Whether it was watching her read in the library or tending to the mansion's gardens, he was there, his masked face silently observing.

Their bond deepened, and with time, their relationship took an unexpected turn. The unspoken attraction that had simmered between them evolved into a romantic connection. Their feelings grew steadily, and one evening, as the sun set over the mansion's sprawling gardens, Brahms removed his mask, revealing his disfigured face to (Y/N). She met his gaze without flinching, accepting him just as he was.

They became a couple, their connection forged in the quiet moments they shared, the lingering glances, and the touch of their hands. (Y/N) found herself drawn to his vulnerability and complexity, and he was captivated by her acceptance and compassion.

However, even as their relationship thrived, an undercurrent of unease began to surface. Brahms, though no longer confined to the doll, remained deeply afraid of losing (Y/N). His history of people fleeing from his presence had left scars that ran deep. His clinginess intensified, a silent plea for her to stay by his side.

As the months turned into years, Brahms' fear only grew. He watched as (Y/N) went about her daily routines, her calm demeanor seemingly unfazed by his constant presence. Yet, he couldn't shake the thought that his clinginess might drive her away. The fear of rejection gnawed at him, an invisible specter that haunted his every interaction with her.

One evening, as they sat by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting shadows on the walls, Brahms hesitated before speaking. "I fear that my need for your presence might become unbearable," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

(Y/N) turned to him, her eyes soft and understanding. "Brahms, you're not driving me away. I'm here because I choose to be. Your presence doesn't suffocate me; it's become a comfort."

He looked at her with a mix of hope and trepidation, struggling to believe her words. "But I'm constantly clinging to you, fearing that you might vanish like the others."

Gently, she reached out and took his hand. "Brahms, you're not alone anymore. I'm not going anywhere. We'll face your fears together."

A fragile smile graced his lips as he intertwined his fingers with hers, the weight of his vulnerability lessening, if only by a fraction. With her steady presence by his side, he dared to hope that he could overcome his past and embrace the happiness that had entered his life.

Their journey was far from easy, but with time, patience, and unwavering support, (Y/N) and Brahms forged a love that transcended the boundaries of the living and the spectral. And through it all, they learned that sometimes, the most profound connections are born from the places where fear and acceptance collide.

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vincess-princess · 4 months

Text

we, the psychos

ch. 7

Word count: 2053 Warnings: - A/N: this one is a bit smaller than usual, but i don't wanna break the streak, so here you are. also i got back access to ao3 and will be posting existing chapters there too!

As Wharton approached, the patients next to Tommy fled, freeing up half the table. Only Mick stayed by his side, but even he moved away a bit, playing the “I’m just sitting here eating” part. Upsetting but understandable – Mick only knew Tommy for a couple hours and obviously wasn’t going to take a risk for him.

So Tommy would have to deal with Wharton alone. Well, fine.

Wharton came to the table with a plate of soup in his hands, and Tommy recoiled, thinking he was going to upend it on him, but Wharton just put it on the table. Then he sat down on the bench and flung his legs over it. His face changed for a second, but Tommy didn’t manage to distinguish the emotion. Then it returned to the same insolent, mocking half-smile that seemed to be stuck to his lips.

“Hello, handsome,” Wharton said.

Tommy expected an insult instead and, confused, didn’t come up with a reply soon enough. Wharton clearly liked the effect of his greeting.

“Wow, and that’s from a simple compliment? That’s sad. Did your mommy and daddy not love you at all? Though since you are here, they probably didn’t.”

That was a low blow, and Wharton knew it. For the first time Tommy regretted not having put on a hospital robe. His clothes really gave out his roots. A rich family wouldn’t send a beloved son to a public asylum. There still were private clinics, even though the government tried hard to dwindle their numbers. As a last resort, his parents could have sent him to their countryside mansion with some sort of a carer to remove him from public eye. But no. They chose to dump him in a poor, overloaded public asylum with all sorts of human garbage in it. Like the one talking to Tommy right now.

“And your parents should have paid you more attention,” Tommy finally said. “Because you’re clearly seeking it.”

Not the best he could come up with, but he had to say something.

“What’s so bad in attention-seeking?” Wharton said. “Especially from pretty guys like you.”

“I don’t go there,” Tommy said sharply, gripping his fork tightly. If Wharton makes a move, he’s getting a fork in the eye.

“That doesn’t matter.” Wharton smiled. A couple of his teeth were missing. “You’re in a “nobody gives a shit what you want” place. You either do things to others or have things done to you.”

“Or you leave everyone alone and just live your life. But that probably hasn’t occurred to you.”

Wharton stopped smiling and leaned forward, closer to Tommy. Tommy gripped his fork tighter.

“I spent more time in a padded cell than you spent inside your mother. I had time to think about everything.”

“Didn’t know you could do that,” Tommy said. The easiest, most primitive way to get back at someone – childish, even. But weren’t lunatics all mentally children? And wasn’t this just a quarrel over who’s gonna rule the playground?

“Many have this misconception,” Wharton agreed. He was either too stupid to understand the insult or too smart to get offended. And Tommy had a feeling it wasn’t the former. There was something in Wharton – in his movements, in his expressions, in the tone of his voice – that suggested there was more behind that deranged sex maniac mask. And that was even scarier.

“What do you want?” Tommy asked directly. “Are you still offended by the morning fight? We both have given each other a fair beating. You have a place to sit. What else is there to it?”

“True,” Wharton said. “We both beat each other’s asses. And I have a place to sit. But there’s another thing.”

Tommy exhaled, frustrated. “What is it.”

“Have you been to Dr. Duren’s?”

“I should’ve?”

“Well, you see, he doesn’t like when patients fight. Both sides get a good walloping for it. I have been given a punishment. And you?”

Tommy could lie. He could say he had been to Dr. Duren’s, had had his punishment assigned, whatever it could be – probably some extra work. But he knew that Wharton wouldn’t ask if he didn’t already know the truth.

“I haven’t.”

“And that-“ Wharton lowered his fist on the table, slowly and forcefully, “-is the problem I have with you.”

“That I haven’t been punished? You can go ask-“

“That you are Dr. Duren’s special princess.”

Special princess. Laughter bubbled in Tommy’s throat. Yeah, he could be called that. Special princess.

Wharton’s heavy, unfriendly stare was taking all the fun out of it – or rather, supposed to. Because Tommy laughed anyway. Laughter built up in his chest and spilled out of his mouth, and it wasn’t funny, it was never funny, but the laughter didn’t care, it came and go as it pleased, and always at the worst possible time.

Wharton was looking at him with a confused frown on his face. He was probably thinking, I haven’t said anything funny. And it was true, but Tommy couldn’t tell him that. Laughter blocked out everything else. He could barely catch a breath between the fits, let alone speak.

Tommy didn’t notice how he bent over and pressed his forehead to the table. He was trying to cover his mouth with his hand, but the laughter still got through. Someone came up to him, leaned forward, spoke in the familiar voice.

“Tommy, what’s going on?”

Mick.

“Now I see why he’s here.” Wharton said over Tommy’s head.

“Shut up and call the nurse.”

“No,” came a lazy refusal, “I’d rather watch.”

A pause, and then:

“Tommy? What’s happening?” – Duff.

“He’s having a fit.” – Mick.

“I told a really funny joke.” – Wharton.

“Shut up!” – Duff, Mick.

“Hey, Tommy.” – Warm hands over his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s take you to the doctor.”

***

Nikki had been missing since lunch, and Mick couldn’t sit still. And he had to, because he had been assigned mending work. Holes in socks, torn trousers, missing buttons on shirts, worn-out bedsheets… Few patients were allowed to do it – needles and scissors were not the best things to give to psychos, - and even fewer agreed to it, saying it was ‘womanly’. But Mick liked it. He didn’t have to move much, and his poor back was grateful for that. The work itself was quiet, meditative, calm. Also, there were no windows in the workroom and only one door which Mick faced while working. Good thing all around.

Except today it wasn’t calm. God knows where Nikki was and what he was doing right now. He was a very creative boy – he could make something to self-harm with practically out of thin air. And when he wasn’t cutting himself, he was in on a hair trigger for that. What if Wharton got him again? Their interaction lasted mere seconds, but he did say something to Nikki, something that made his face drop. That was enough for him to fly off the hook, especially since… recent events.

Mick didn’t know what the quarrel between Nikki and Wharton was about, but he supposed Wharton dumped him. Got tired of a new toy and discarded it. Though their… relationship did last longer than his other flings – Mick knew of four months, and there could be more.

It would have been better for them to hook up a couple times and leave it at that. Wharton was simply incapable of a reciprocating relationship, and Nikki got his hopes too high over those months. He couldn’t see through Wharton like Mick did – see a cruel, selfish, manipulative asshole who cared only about himself that he was. Nikki was a smart boy overall, but clearly lacked in reading people.

Mick pricked his finger with the needle for the third time and couldn’t just sit there anymore. He dropped the sock he was mending and rose from his chair.

“Where to?” Hudson, who was watching them today, asked.

“To take a piss.”

“Alright.” Hudson didn’t suspect a thing – mostly because Mick wasn’t known for anything deserving suspicion.

Mick walked out the door and down the hall, then turned around the corner, looked around and sped up. He didn’t have much time.

First he checked the lavatory. It was hard to hide in there – it was a rather popular place, and many patients were often accompanied by nurses who would have noticed him. And Nikki had the “in need of permanent surveillance” mark on his medical history, which meant he would have already been taken to his ward.

Hoping that it already happened, next Mick went exactly there – but it stood empty, with the door open. The cleaner did a shitty job, and there were still traces of blood on the floor. Mick winced and turned away.

Then he went to the kitchen – he was friendly with the cooks and could hope they wouldn’t rat him out.

“Hi, Bob,” Steve said when Mick entered. “Hungry?”

“Nah.” Mick shook his head and looked around. No Nikki in sight. Well, it was expectable – the cooks would have never let him in there, knowing his infatuation with sharp objects – but still worth a check. “You seen Feranna?”

“Here?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “You serious? I’d have kicked him out the moment he came.”

“And that’s right,” Mick said, reaching for the bread basket and pulling out a piece. All this worrying did make him a bit hungry. “What’s for dinner?”

“Fried fish and mashed potatoes.”

“M-m. Classic. Thanks. Don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“Of course.” Steve laughed. He believed Mick was just pulling his “I’m being watched” thing, and Mick wanted it to stay that way. Right now he was relatively safe and had other, bigger concerns.

Chewing on the piece of bread, Mick headed down the hall. The cracking of the crust on his teeth drowned out other sounds, and he heard nurses talking behind the corner at the last moment. He dashed into the closest open ward and pressed his back to the wall, waiting for the nurses to pass by.

While he waited, Mick cast a quick glance around the ward. It didn’t look like it was lived in at all. The sheets were barely wrinkled, as if nobody slept on them, but it’s been over two weeks since the last change of bedding. It couldn’t be unoccupied: the asylum was full. Besides, there were restraints attached on the bedframe, and they were not leather, like usual, but metal. Interesting. The resident must be one of the aggressive ones.

The nurses left, and Mick continued his journey. He peeped into the common room – it wasn’t evening yet, so there were only a couple patients cleaning it, and old John Paul was quietly playing the even older piano. It was basically all he still could do – and did.

Mick went along the hall, looking into the empty wards. Nikki could easily hide in one of them, and would be found only at bedtime, and god knows what he could do to himself by then. But Nikki wasn’t inside any of the wards.

Maybe washing room? Mick headed in that direction. But just before rounding a corner he heard familiar voices.

“What were you doing there?” Whose else could that booming, angry voice be but Simmons’s?

“Wanted some fresh air.”

Mick made a loud sigh of relief. It was Nikki.

“Yeah? Fresh air? In October? Barefoot?”

Mick sighed again – now with disappointment. Of course, with Nikki nothing could go smoothly.

“I wanted to feel the earth.”

“Yeah, sure. You get pneumonia, that’s your fault.” Then a sound of someone stumbling.

“Hey! I can walk on my own! You don’t need to drag me!”

“I don’t think so.”

Mick crept after them until they reached Nikki’s ward. Simmons pushed him in and locked it.

“Sit here and think about your behavior. You don’t wanna go to Dr. Duren again, do you?”

And with that, he left.

Mick badly wanted to talk to Nikki, but he knew his time was out. Hudson was probably already looking all over the asylum for him. He needed to get to the lavatory and pretend he just had the worst diarrhea of his life, or the nurse wouldn’t believe that he spent so long there.

Mick turned around and ran back as fast as his back allowed him to.

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue slash fanfiction #motley crue fanfic #motley crue au #asylum au #we the psychos #nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars #vinikki #(mentioned)#and in this one mick goes on a little adventure!#also just so you don't get confused: tommy has laughing syndrome that makes him laugh when he doesn't want to #check out the post that inspired the fic (linked in the masterlist) for details #don't much like this one but whatever. hopy yall like it #my writing

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thesmokingguns · 1 year

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Guns N Roses Masterlist

Axl Rose

Morning After Muffins

Bright Star

Visit Home

Aging Sucks

Step by Step Part 1

Step By Step Part 2

Sickbed

Slash

How to Love Precious

Postpartum

Love Language

Champagne Birthday

Carving Pumpkins

Duff McKagan

Can’t Fix Me

Rapunzel

Stitches

Window

You Smell Like Love

Ghosting

Cemetery

Making a Baby

Izzy Stradlin

Izzy and Joy

The Meeting

Car Rides

Izzy and Joy: What are those?

Watch Me

Airplane Rides Home

Izzy and Joy: Depression Meal Party

Switching Teams

Not With the Band

Working Girl

Whole Band/ Multi Members

Moving to LA FT Izzy Stradlin and Axl Rose

Property of the Band (ALL)

Love Language (ALL)

Our Girl Part 1 ft SLASh and Duff McKagan

Our Girl Part 2 ft Slash and Duff McKagan

Our Girl Part 3 ft Slash and Duff McKagan

#Duff Mckagan #izzy stradlin fanfiction #Izzy Stradlin #Axl Rose #Axl Rose Fan fic #Slash fan fic #masterlist #guns n roses

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imaslutforwritingshit · 1 year

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𝒞𝒰𝑅𝑅𝐸𝒩𝒯 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𝒪𝐹 𝒜𝐿𝐿 𝑀𝒴 𝒮𝒯𝒪𝑅𝐼𝐸𝒮!

The 🎀 symbolizes stories/chapters with smut. However, most stories include slow burn- so if you would like to follow the plot it would help build that :)

GHOSTFACE / SCREAM

Scream for Me- Ghostface Romance. Part 1

Scream for Me- Ghostface Romance. Part 2

MIGUEL O HARA / SPIDERVERSE

Born to Kill- A Miguel O’Hara Romance. Part 1

Born to Kill- A Miguel O’Hara Romance. Part 2

Born to Kill- A Miguel O’Hara Romance. Part 3

Born to Kill- A Miguel O’Hara Romance. Part 4 🎀

Born to Kill- A Miguel O’Hara Romance. Part 5

Born to Kill- A Miguel O’Hara Romance. Part 6 🎀

A Dangerous Wish- Part One- Miguel 🎀

TWILIGHT SAGA

Edward Cullen’s girlfriend- F! Imagine. Part 1 🎀

Edward Cullen’s girlfriend- F! Imagine. Part 2 🎀

ONESHOTS/SMALL IMAGINES

Miguel O’ Hara Canon Phrases- SFW

Miguel O’Hara Canon Phrases- NSFW

ETHAN LANDRY

Ethan Landry Texting You Part One🎀

Ethan Landry Texting You Part Two 🎀

Ethan Landry Texting You Part Three 🎀

Shy Ethan texting you

Hockey Ethan Landry

#smut #slash fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #fanfic info #masterlist #fanfic #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader

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damianodavds · 2 days

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MY MASTERLIST

Below is a masterlist of the stories I have written so far. I write about guns n’ roses, jon bon jovi & motley crue. Please enjoy! 😊

my ask box is open for fan fiction requests.

Guns N’ Roses

life of a glam metal groupie (headcanon) [smut]

teacher’s pet [smut]

devil inside [smut]

Jon Bon Jovi

coming soon

Mötley Crüe

mötley crüe kid (headcanon) [clean]

do you want a record deal? [smut]

Måneskin

divinity school for girls (a blurb) [mature themes]

Other

call from the other side (the beatles) [clean]

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envythemouse · 4 months

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All-time Sam/Dean recs

Plotty:

Intertextuality by doctor__idiot

Summary: It starts out as a joke. Sam has no other excuse than boredom. And maybe a little pettiness.

Envy’s notes: Sam gets annoyed when Dean keeps trying to flirt with girls they come across. The solution? Flirt with Dean himself.

Another Go Round by KassandraScarlett

Summary: Someone sends Dean back to 2009, with a mission: change the past, change the present, so the apocalypse never happens.

Dean leaves behind a Croatoan-ridden world, only to stumble into the one person he's always loved more than anything else.

Or:

Zachariah doesn't send Dean to 2014. Instead, Chuck sends the Dean of the future to 2009.

Envy’s notes: Sam Winchester/apocalyptic Dean is the best ship we have in the fandom so I had to put it on the list. Apocalyptic Dean gets sent to 2009 right after Sam tries to kill himself to get away from Lucifer. This Dean knows what it’s like to truly lose his other half and so treats Sam with the love he deserves. I love affectionate Sam/Dean. Even better, other Dean watches it all happen and is jealous of himself.

Sincerely, Sam by Samcursed

Summary: Sam Winchester is praying for death.

Dean's already gone after sacrificing himself to take out Amara and Sam's losing more and more of himself each day at Lady Bevell's hands. He's reached his limit. Then suddenly he finds himself in 1998 and the sole focus of a supernatural lawyer who has one very firm request; She needs Sam to cure a demon. Dad, Dean, and Bobby won't let him out of their sights and Sam has enough to juggle with the swarm of supernatural creatures who think the Boy King has come back to take his crown.

Envy’s notes: Older Sam and younger Sam switch places so it has younger Dean/older Sam in the past and younger Sam/older Dean in the future. Sam uses his powers in this and the demons rebel because their boyking has arrived, some demons are trying to break the seals decades earlier because Lucifer has also noticed Sam’s presence. Oh and Sam think his Dean is dead and wants to join him.

The Truth In The Lie by flawedamythyst

Summary: Sam and Dean pretend to be gay lovers while they hunt a monster on a bus tour of Nova Scotia.

Envy’s notes: Lots of physical affection and damn do I love these original characters. Sam and Dean go undercover as a couple on a bus tour for gay men, they do a lot of sightseeing. There’s this guy hitting on Sam and he has no idea because he can’t read signals, but Dean does notice.

Pacified by Parroticat (hanover)

Summary: Set in season 7 after they've got Lucifer out of Sam's head. Sam starts having nightmares, waking up every night screaming himself hoarse, weak and exhausted. Dean fixes it the only way that has ever worked, no matter how embarrassing Sam finds it.

Envy’s notes: Sam starts wetting the bed after going to hell, Dean takes care of it. Not a kinky fic, just hurt/comfort.

073 – Barry by ani_coolgirl

Summary: In remembrance of the life and times of Barry Cook. Sam remembers perhaps a bit too much.

Envy’s notes: In which Barry helped Sam find out his sexuality and knew Sam’s brother was also Sam’s first crush. When Sam tells Dean about Barry, he realises Sam has feelings for him.

For You to Me are the Only One by flowerofnettles

Summary: Classic trope, Winchester Drama version—Before the boys hit her with witch-killin’ bullets, the monster of the week puts a curse on Dean: either he has sex within five days, or his heart will give out. The catch? The curse was designed to make its target violent during sex, and naturally Dean refuses to put anyone’s life at risk to save his own. As the fifth day gets closer, a desperate Sam makes the choice for them both, by offering (with a little help from Castiel’s angel powers) the only person he’s willing to risk at Dean’s hands: himself. Only when it ends they’ve got bigger problems, because Sam never expected that a few nights pretending to be a stranger volunteering to take care of Dean could lead to such shocking discoveries about himself, his brother, and the strength of the bond tying their souls together.

Envy’s notes: Not as smutty as it sounds. It has a lot of feels also. Hidden identity!Sam/cursed Dean. It’s all very consensual (except for Dean not knowing it’s Sam). It’s over 50k words so you can spend the night reading it.

It's Just Research by brokenlittleboy

Summary: Sam becomes obsessed with the "wincest" shippers on the forums for fans of Carver Edlund's "Supernatural." Dean finds out.

Envy’s notes: Sam starts reading wincest and then becomes a fanfiction writer because what better way to let all those feelings out?

Well Jung by alwaysthrowsscissors

Summary: The brothers are faced with their broken relationship in the aftermath of Gadreel’s possession and Kevin’s death. In an act of desperation, they go to couple’s therapy to try to work things out. It may bring them closer than they bargained for. This fic starts off funny and becomes more intimate and serious as the boys navigate their first time and process it with their therapist.

Envy’s notes: Sam and Dean go to a couple’s therapist to fix their relationship, they misunderstand some of their therapist’s advice.

Sam’s brow got further and further stitched as he looked at article after article. “She can’t possibly have meant this.”

“What do you mean?"

“It’s all...sex stuff," Sam said, crinkling his nose in disgust.

Baby Bird by TheQuietWings

Summary: Sam is sick, and Dean has some… unconventional methods to make him eat.

Envy’s notes: Dean feeds Sam mouth to mouth. Oddly sweet.

Embarrassing Crushes by Marie_Tomas

Summary: Sam and Dean get drunk and share a few embarrassing stories. When they ask each other about their most embarrassing crushes, the answers that they both give are kind of...surprising.

Envy’s notes: This one is really sweet and I love the way Dean reacts to Sam’s confession.

When This is Over, We Should Really Have Angry Sex by mjlove1 and oulfulsam

Summary: A Wincestous deleted scenes take on "Red Sky At Morning" S3 While Sam Dean & Bela are at the party Sam overhears something that leads to a very jealous miscommunication. Rated M for graphic Wincest in Ch2. 2-shot written w/ the wonderful& talented MJLove

Envy’s notes: Established wincest. Sam overhears what the guard says and thinks Dean actually slept with Bella.

023 – confession by ani_coolgirl

Summary: There are some things you can only say when you're alone. What Sam doesn't realize is that he's not alone.

Envy’s notes: Ghost!Dean hears Sam talking to his comatose body in S2:E01 Time of Dying. Why can they only be sweet to one another when one of them is dying??

Always My Pretty Baby by taiyou_nii_chan

Summary: Sam has always been Dean's "pretty baby" but years have gone by and he hasn't been feeling "pretty" or "a baby" lately. Dean takes care of fixing that.

Envy’s notes: A personal favourite because Sam doesn’t get called pretty enough, it’s always Dean :(

017 – backfire by ani_coolgirl

Summary: Sam gets Dean back for the itching powder. It doesn't quite go like he planned.

Envy’s notes: Sam pranks Dean by making someone think they’re a couple. You can never go wrong with pretend relationship fics.

I Can't Forget the Time or Place Where We Just Met by alwaysthrowsscissors

Summary: Sam and Dean fall asleep on the couch, wake up cursed with amnesia, and assume they're in a relationship. After exploring their surroundings, they can't keep their hands off each other any longer. The curse breaks mid-sex.

Envy’s notes: Another one of my favourite tropes. Both have amnesia and assume they’re a couple.

Hell changes people by blueingaround

Summary: After Sam almost sees Dean die in that barn, he can't quite shake the feeling that something's going to happen if he loses sight of him. He had never wanted to be as close to his brother as now. He can't take his eyes off him. After weeks of recovery, Dean wants to go back to hunting, but Sam wants him to just stay home. He knows the way he feels about his brother is wrong, but after hell, Sam finds it difficult to remember social norms.

aka Sam is struggling after Dean's recovery and they go on a hunt together. Some monster is hunting incestuous couples and some feelings are revealed. They decided to have sex to play bait for the monster and this turns out way more emotional than they both had expected it.

Envy’s notes: Sam has wanted to be closer to Dean ever since going to hell. Here’s one of my favourite pieces of dialogue:

“You're telling me you're fine with incest?”

“As long as no one's getting hurt? Sure.” Sam said, shrugging again.

Dean was silent for a few seconds. Sam turned to look at him and saw his brother with a frown and his mouth slightly open in astonishment.

“You're fucked in the head, Sam.”

“We both are.” He said. “It just seems I'm a little more messed up than you are. But that isn't news.”

Smutty:

Best Brother Ever by Mayalaen

Summary: Prompt fill for the request of Dean/Sam, dirty talk, virgin!Dean, coming untouched, massage, fingering, unexpected orgasm.

Dean is really sore after a hunt, and Sam offers a massage. Dean's first reaction is a big no, but his back is killing him, so he gives in. It turns out Sam's awesome at massages, and Sam knows what will help relax him even more.

Envy’s notes: Sexual healing, literally. Massage fics that lead to more are always great.

State Of Emergency by PerpetualCookie

Summary: Dodgeville, Michigan. January 2000.

The Winchesters get caught in the biggest snowstorm of the winter. Trapped in their motel room by drifts of snow six feet high, they’re more inside of each other’s pockets than normal.

John hears some things he wasn’t meant to hear.

Envy’s notes: Young Sam and Dean have sex while their dad is in the same room. John is not sleeping.

I'll Take Care of You by Katlover98

Summary: Ever since Toni Bevell mind fucked Sam he has had trouble getting it up. Dean tries to help him when he finds out and it leads to sexy time.

Envy’s notes: Dean helps a sexually frustrated Sam.

Every First Time by antarshakes

Summary: It all starts with a threesome, really. It all continues through threesomes. Then, it’s just minus one.

Envy’s notes: A pretty realistic way wincest could happen.

"Handsome, could you show Dean here what kind of kiss really turns a girl on, please?"

Cowboys and Indians by saltandbyrne

Summary: An account of the times Sam jizzed himself while Dean pinned his hands down, starting with a game of cowboys and indians.

Envy’s notes: Who knew a game of cowboys and indians could be so hot?

And the Truth Shall Set You Free by Nutkin

Summary: Sam gets hit with a truth spell, and Dean decides to do some digging. It turns out a surprising number of Sam's most embarrassing fantasies involve Dean. A very toppy Dean.

Envy’s notes: omg I love this one so much. Sam is under a truth spell, Dean asks him what crazy stuff he likes in bed and Sam is just like: you.

"What about me?"

"You on top of me." Sam swallowed, willing it to stop, but the words just kept tumbling out. "You holding me down."

#slash #fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #fic rec #fanfiction recommendation #fanfiction recs #dean winchester #sam/dean #sam x dean #wincest #fanfiction rec list #fanfic rec #masterlist

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otaku-girl-ao3 · 6 months

Text

Otaku_Girl's Fanfic Masterlist

Here is a quick overview of my complete Wonka (2023) fanfic back catalogue (and a few other Mathew Baynton related fandoms). I thought it'd be simpler to have everything in one place to find them more quickly 😊 The easiest way to follow my work and get the latest updates on all of my fics is via Archive Of Our Own - subscribing via my main Otaku_girl or my Wonka specific pseud AHatfulOfDreams.

Personal favourite

➼ Willy Wonka x Felix Fickelgruber

Sugar Daddy? Call Me (Sir)

Used to being in control during his working life, Willy wants (needs) someone to take control of his life outside of the inventing room. But trying to juggle his wants and desires without risking his dream may prove to be more tricky than he had anticipated.

Felix likes to be in control. A man of power, he’s not used to hearing no. Everybody has a price. Everyone. There’s no way some upstart chocolate maker would dare do anything but roll over for Fickelgruber, is there?

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53223310

long fic (150k+) ~ sugar daddy ~ bdsm ~ smut

➼ Dark!Wonka x Felix Fickelgruber

His (Darkness)

“Arthur. You cannot be serious.”

“As you can see, he is mainly housebroken. But he still needs to be put in his place on a regular basis. He needs to be taught a firm lesson, as it were. You can take Felix if you want him. Consider him my little welcoming gift to you. He’s not as pretty or as young as he once was, but at least he’ll keep thin for you. And he’s very obedient when remembers to mind his manners.”

“No, Arthur, please.”

“Do you think that you can handle him, Wonka? He is clearly in need of some remedial lessons.”

“I think I shouldn’t have a problem, Arthur. I thank you for the gift. I shall make sure to use it thoroughly before your return. Perhaps he could do with a reminder of precisely who he deserves to be owned by. Property doesn’t get to choose its master.”

Dark!Wonka. Post-canon. Please read the tags as they are updated. We're in for another long one, folks.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54770731

Dove ~ dark ~ eventual happy ending ~ smut

x Reader fics

➼ Willy Wonka x Reader

(Pure) Imagination

You wouldn't go as far as to say you love your job, but you do love the freedom it gives you. One frozen night, you encounter a customer unlike any other, who seems determined to show you a world beyond your imagination. Wonka hires your services for the night. You end up with more than you bargained for. Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52955674

light-hearted ~ sex work ~ smut

Bitter Choices & Unsweetened Dreams

“I thought she was your sister?” “What’s it to you?” “It’s a great deal to me.” Mister Top Hat says, voice even and calm. “Family is family. But property…” His eyes flick down the length of you once more, as though weighing up his words, before saying, “Well, property can change hands.”

When trying to escape capture, you ask for Mister Wonka's help. Sometimes, it's best to be careful what you wish for.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53109055

Dark!Wonka ~ angst with a happy ending ~ nonsexual

The Most Fearsome Foe Known to Man

Willy accidentally angers the most fearsome of potential foes known to mankind: a librarian. Despite Noodle’s warnings, he doesn’t understand the importance of returning library books both in the state in which they were borrowed and, most importantly, on time.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53069821

light-hearted ~ crack treated seriously ~ nonsexual

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x Reader

Make Me (Break Me)

“I can assure you that it is all there.” He sounds insulted that you would even consider checking that the amount in full is there before things get started. “Just like the first envelope this evening had the exact amount agreed upon.”

You send him a small placating smile. “It is nothing personal, Mister Fickelgruber. It is just business. Now. Strip."

Felix Fickelgruber has a very specific fantasy in mind — one that is perhaps best left in the hands of a professional.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54227971

pro-domme reader ~ SSCK ~ smut

➼Multiple pairings

Forget Me (K)Not

“Please? Please. I need…”

“The boy is clearly a beta, Felix. Use your nose. No self-respecting omega would go around smelling like that. And have you not seen his clothes? The callouses on his hands? I know you have a weakness for pretty little things, Felix, but wake up. This is no more than another pathetic attempt by a money-grubbing, greedy child to get a leg up. So no. Absolutely not. I will not even entertain the thought.”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54321145

A/B/O ~ first heat ~ omegaverse ~ smut

For a moment like this

“Arthur.”

There’s no space for words between them. The name falling from his lips — an admonishment, a prayer, a breathy, needy plea — is more than enough.

Thick fingers — strong enough to break him, if Arthur so wishes — tug at delicate tweed. The unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, of buttons skittering across wooden floorboards, of bare flesh meeting bare flesh intertwines with their harsh breaths.

Gerald, Arthur and Felix share moments together. [Now] a collection of poly chocolate cartel vignettes.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56211682

Polyamory ~ vignettes ~ ficlet collection ~ poly chocolate cartel

Party favour

“Remember this is what you asked for. You wanted this.”

Hands clenching and unclenching, he wished not for the first time, that he had been more careful. He had relied on the kindness of strangers for so long — too long. It would seem that he had grown used to their help, their honesty and support. He didn’t think to look for deception in their every move, to seek out the potential dangers in their every action.

He should have learned his lesson from his contract with Mrs Scrubbit and Mister Bleacher.

He should have done a lot of things.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to stay right here. I’ll make sure anyone who comes even remotely our way will enjoy the view to the fullest.”

Willy receives an invite to a gala that doesn’t go exactly as he had planned. Poly chocolate cartel gangbang fic~ with added Chief of Police!

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56432554

Trans Wonka ~ shameless smut ~ polyamory ~ poly chocolate cartel

Until it happens to you (you won't know)

Willy! I thought you had everything sorted with the Chief? What happened with your little chat?”

“I… everything is fine, Noodle. It’s fine. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“There you are, candyman. I knew I’d find you around here somewhere. You know, the funniest thing happened. I came lookin’ for ya, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. Even that nice Mister Bleacher couldn’t find you. It’s almost as if you were hiding from me. Me! You wouldn't be stupid enough to hide from the police, would you, Wonka?”

The Chief of Police decides to reinforce his little message with more than just a bonk on the head.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56123263

Dark fic ~ threesome ~ waterboarding ~ Felix x Willy x Chief

The Most (Un)Romantic Day of the Year

Arthur did not consider himself to be a romantic man. Yet even he felt it was not too unresonable to expect to spend their anniversary together.

The poly chocolate cartel engagement fic that one person kind-of asked for. Pure fluff.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54916120

Romance ~ established relationship ~ marriage proposal

Dark Deeds and Bitter Choices

What if Mrs Scrubbit decided that they could make more money using Willy's talents elsewhere, outside of the washhouse?

The Arthur/Felix/Willy fic that nobody asked for.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53986543

Dark!Arthur ~ dove ~ non-ssck ~ smut

➼ Willy Wonka x Arthur Slugworth

(A World Of) My Own

Wonka’s store stood, a hollowed-out husk, the remains burned to cinders. When the cartel came, what if Arthur felt a twinge of something he hadn’t felt in years? The pre-slash/ get-together fic that precisely one person asked for.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54184039

Guilt ~ fix-it ~ accidental dating

➼ Willy Wonka x The Chief of Police

Three strikes

Willy thought back to their last meeting, to the freezing cold water, to the sharp whack to the back of his head. It was not a situation he hoped to repeat anytime soon."Officer, I—”

"That's the problem with all of you young upstarts. You never do think.”

While waiting to meet Felix for their date, Willy manages to draw the ire of the Chief of Police.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54115921

misunderstandings ~ dove ~ hurt no comfort

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x Arthur Slugworth

Strength (In Silence)

Arthur is a man who knows his strength all too well. He thought that he was concealing his fears from Felix; yet the other man would never cease to amaze him in the most unexpected of ways.

A soft colleagues-to-lovers bdsm fic with gentle!Dom Felix and Submissive!Arthur, where Arthur is afraid of his own strength (and Felix is determined that isn’t a good enough reason for them not to fuck like bunnies).

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54916276

Kink negotiation ~ submissive Arthur ~ gentle dominant Felix

Empty

There’s no colour in the sky when Felix wakes up. There’s no warmth in his chest, or excitement in his gut. There is nothing but the unwavering certainty: he is not enough.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54447592

depression ~ anxiety ~ hurt no comfort

For a Moment

“I have a spare room. It’s nothin fancy, but it beats any of the shelters I’m meant to recommend in these cases.”

“These cases?”

The chief looked down, before steeling himself and meeting Felix’s gaze once more. “I think we both know what I mean, Mister Fickelgruber, Sir.”

“I do not think that we do. You shall have to spell it out for me.”

It takes an average of seven attempts for a person to leave a domestic violent situation for good.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54618847

domestic abuse ~ hurt no comfort ~ hopeful ending

Pet

“It really is quite simple, Arthur. I have certain…predilections when it comes to my partners. I enjoy a certain, shall we say, power dynamic within the bedroom.”

“You wish to be held down and told what to do? I can do that."

“You misunderstand, darling. I prefer to be the one doing the ‘holding down’ and ‘telling what to do’, as it were."

Arthur Slugworth was not a man who took orders. And yet, for Felix...he could learn to be.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54652468

submissive Arthur ~ dominant Felix ~ BDSM

Things (Best) Left Unsaid

“You’re married, aren’t you?” “Er, yes? Yes I am Mister Fickelgruber.” “Do you ever regret it?”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54726334

reflection ~ marriage ~ doubt

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x The Chief of Police

Just Give Me A Reason (Just A Little Bit's Enough)

“What brings you to my doorstep this evening, Chief? I do hope that I shall have the opportunity to counter whatever offer Arthur has made you before you proceed.”

The Chief looked at him blankly. He could see the tenseness around Felix’s mouth, the tightness around his eyes. Was that his hands shaking, just visible above his desk? Surely not. Felix didn’t get nervous. Not like that. Unless…His stomach dropped. “Before I—Jesus Christ Felix, I’m not here because Arthur sent me.”

When Felix misses a cartel meeting, The Chief of Police can't help but worry. Shameless smut ensues. Can be read as a stand-alone or a follow-on from Things (Best) Left Unsaid.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55171597

submissive Chief ~ dominant Felix ~ smut

His Jewel

Francis hates the feeling of not being plugged. It had been one of Felix’s first requirements, when they first began their little arrangement. He had thought the other man was joking at first. Until he had seen the look of disappointment in Felix’s eyes when he had slipped a hand beneath his uniform trousers to check, and found his hole clenched tightly shut, not a single sign of use since the last time Felix had deemed him worthy of his time and attention.

Felix gets The Chief a special little something to help him think about him whenever they aren't together.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54257518

butt plugs ~ bdsm ~ smut

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x Gerald Prodnose

Falling In Love (With My Best Friend)

“What happened this time, Felix?”

“I made an utter fool of myself. Again. I thought…” he trailed off. Settling the delicate china down, he allowed his hands to rest in his lap. He turned them over slowly, eyes running over the delicate bones shifting just beneath the surface, the faint calluses that could truly only be felt rather than seen unless you knew to look for them. Nobody ever looked at Felix and thought to look for them.

“Felix?”

“He called me a slut.”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55776700

friends to lovers ~ smut ~ praise kink

x Crossover fics

➼ Wonka (2023) x You, Me and the Apocalypse

Darling boy

Felix Fickelgruber x Ariel Conroy

"You took something that belongs to me, Mister Conroy. And I shall have you repay that debt. One way or another."

Ariel thought that he was just hacking funds from another wealthy nobody. Too bad that Felix doesn’t take kindly to having his money stolen. Luckily for Ariel, there are other methods of repayment that he is willing to accept.

The Wonka x You, Me and The Apocalypse (crossover) that nobody asked for and like maybe two people will ever read 😂 (Please note: This is primarily set in the Wonka-verse, so you can read Ariel as an OC if you are unfamiliar with YMATA).

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54566395

Kidnapping ~ dove ~ happy ending ~ smut ~ bdsm ~ crossover

You can find me on the Wonka Discord, AO3, or here on Tumblr

I do my best to respond to every comment on AO3. Regular updates on WIPs guaranteed 💯

Other Fandoms

Ghosts (2019)

Take a chance on me

Pat Butcher x Reader

“Now c'mon then love, let’s see you. Only if you’re sure. I could fetch one of the others if you’d like? Julian’s got a ton of experience if even half of his stories are to be believed. And Thomas…well, if you like that sort of thing. I suppose he’s a good enough looking chap if you can get past his poetry. And all the love confessions about other women. And the moping. And the…general Thomas-ness.”

“I think I’d rather just keep this between the two of us if that’s ok with you, Pat? At least for now? Anything else sounds a little bit advanced for…”

“For your first time as a ghost?” Pat finishes your sentence for you, sending you a reassuring smile, “We’ve all been there."

“Haha. Yes. It will be my first time as a ghost. And also…maybe… my first time…”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55039954

Gentle dom ~ reader insert ~ pure smut ~ virgin reader

Can't take it back (once it's been set in motion)

Thomas Thorne x Reader; Pat Butcher x Reader; Thomas Thorne x Julian Fawcett

“Patrick tells me that you are inexperienced in the ways of the flesh.”

“Pat said what?”

“Patrick was telling me all about your little…conversation," Thomas said delicately, a small, sly smile curling at the corners of his lips. "And I was wondering if perhaps I might be of some assistance?”

Thomas offers to help you lose your virginity. It would be a far more appealing prospect, if you weren't half convinced you were developing feelings for Pat.

This can be read as a stand-alone, or a sequel to my Pat/Reader fic ‘Take a chance on me’. Shameless smut which developed a little bit of plot.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55376755

Misunderstandings ~ cunnilingus ~ smut ~ virgin reader

Bullet Train (2022)

A Certain satisfaction (in a Little Bit of Pain)

Tangerine x Lemon

Lemon pressed his knee lower against the swell of Tangerine’s arse, waiting patiently for his struggles to die down once more.

“Is this actually helping, Tan? Because I can keep this up all night. So why don’t you stop being a little bitch, and run through your safewords for me like a good fuckin' boy so we can get started.”

After a job goes bad, Lemon knows what Tangerine needs. If only he can get Tangerine out of his own head long enough to give it to him.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55881517

bdsm ~ everyone lives nobody dies ~ smut ~ my first try at the fruits

I just wanna see you (be brave)

Ladybug x Tangerine, Ladybug x Tangerine x Lemon, Tangerine x Lemon

“What the hell am I supposed to do with him?”

“It’s really not that bloody hard, mate. Just keep him locked in his room. This job shouldn’t last more than another day. Three at most.”

“Three? He’s fucking gone into rut, Lemon. How am I supposed to keep him calm and—”

“Oh, there’s no chance of that. Yeah. He’s just gotta work it out of his system. Leave him to it; I’ll help him when I get back. Oh, and Ladybird?”

“It’s LadyBUG actually—”

“It’s heat, not rut.”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57032443

Non-traditional a/b/o dynamics ~ shameless smut ~ 60k

21 notes · View notes

ao3userwalkingonfirex · 3 months

Text

Ianthony Fanfiction

I meant to do this a looooooong time ago, but I'm a procrastinator. Basically, I used to write Ianthony (Smosh) fanfiction like crazy. Ever since Anthony came back to Smosh, I've seen a lot more activity on my fics from that era, so I wanted to make a masterpost here, not just for my own records sake (I have one on my main-blog, but this is my writing blog and I wanted it here too), but in case there are any new Smosh fans who have not read my stuff yet! To be fair, they're pretty buried on ao3 and wattpad because they're like over a decade old. Lmao.

Unspoken - Standalone. NC-17. Smosh is over. Ian and Anthony don’t know how to live without each other. Angst. Smut. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

Hollow - (TW: Suicide Attempt/Accidental Overdose) Chaptered. NC-17. Anthony is getting married and he couldn’t be happier. That is, until he discovers the downward spiral that Ian is going down. Angst. Smut. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

A Loss for Words - Standalone. NC-17. Ian wants to know why Anthony’s been so down lately. Little does he know that he’s the cause. Angst. Smut. This was my first slash smut so it’s kinda cringey. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

Shut Up - Standalone. Ian wants to express his anger. Anthony just wants Ian to shut up. NC-17. Smut. Angst. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

A Christmas Secret - Standalone. PG. Ian and Anthony are spending Christmas together. Anthony has a surprise for Ian. Fluff. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

Anesthesia - (TW: Self-harm, alcohol and drug use, violence, suicide attempt) Standalone. NC-17. When Anthony uses Ian, he must find a way to cope. Angst. Smut. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

Bitter - Standalone. PG-13. Ian has a conversation with Kalel about Melanie and Anthony. Angst. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

Konstantine - (TW: underage, alcohol use) Standalone. NC-17. AU based upon the song by Something Corporate. Anthony loves Ian and will under any circumstances for eternity. However, when something terrible happens, he learns that simply holding on isn’t always the best option. Smut. Angst. Underage. Wattpad Link

There’s Something You Should Know - Standalone. PG-13. Ian wants to tell Anthony a secret, but little does he know that Anthony has something to tell him, too. Fluff. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

Have Faith in Me - Chaptered. NC-17. A night of passion between the Smosh boys and a stranger results in something unexpected and before they know it, the boys are left to raise a baby girl. Ian couldn’t be happier, but Anthony is less than enthused. He must learn to live with this new lifestyle and feelings between himself and Ian that have been brewing for years. Angst. Smut. Fluff. Wattpad Link Fanfiction.net Link

Synesthesia - (TW: Dubcon, self-harm, alcohol and drug use, suicide attempt) Standalone. NC-17. Ian makes Anthony feel things he can’t comprehend. Anthony’s pov of Anesthesia. Smut. Angst. Wattpad Link

#ianthony #smosh #ian hecox #anthony padilla #fanfiction #slash #ianthony fanfiction #masterlists

14 notes · View notes

duffslut · 2 years

Text

Masterlist 3 guide:

🍄 = Fluff 🌵 = Angst 🍯 = Smut

Masterlists: 1 2 3

Axl Rose

Let me do it for you 🍯

Birthday Party 🍄

Are you thirsty? 🍯

Like I would 🍯

Talkin' about you 🍄

Older, wiser and sub 🍯

Teach you a lesson 🍯

Rocket Queen 🍯

Uncontrollable desire 🍯

Out of my mind 🍯

Million dollar man 🍄

Slash

Daddy Gross 🍯

Call me daddy 2 🍯

Sleepover 🍯

Against the rules 🍯

Wet Dreams 🍯

Thirsty kitten 🍯

Casual Sex 🍯🍄🌵

Don't touch my hair! 🍄

By the pool 🍯

Your first time 🍯

Stuck in bed 🍯

Girl in the crowd 🍄

Aroused Curls 🍯

Girl in the crowd 2 🍯

On the tour bus 🍯

Best dad in the world 🍄

Kiss your pain away 🍄

One night stand 🍯

Making it public 🍄

Shaking up backstage 🍯

Jealous girl 🍯🌵

Duff Mckagan

Possessive boyfriend 🍯

Can't keep my hands off you 🍯

Get In The Car 🍯

Take Care 🍄

Daddy knows better 🍯

Izzy Stradlin

Strawberry Popsicle 🍯

First Time 🍯

Hard Photoshoot 🍯

Pool party 🍯

After party 🍯

Skateboarding 🍄

Sweet morning 🍯

A bad dream 🍄

WYOCMWYH 🌵

WYOCMWYH 2 🌵

Secret love 🍄

Too much to handle 🍯

Becoming Parents 🍯

Easy Rider 🍄

Steven Adler

While you sleep 🍯

Fight night 🍯

Teach you a lesson 🍯

A private show 🍯

On the tour bus 🍯

Roller Coaster 🍄

Duff McKagan x Reader x Steven Adler

Helping a friend 🍄

#masterlist #axl rose #slash #duff mckagan #izzy stradlin #steven adler #guns n roses #fanfics #prompts #smut #fluff #angst #gnr

212 notes · View notes

felixknow · 3 days

Text

felixknow's SLASH masterlist <3

slash: a genre of fanfiction that focuses on romantic or sexual relationships between characters of the same sex

All slash fics are posted on ao3. All links redirect to ao3.

SFW

Nothing here yet...

NSFW

Changlix, wearing nothing but cologne

back to masterlist home

#masterlist: slash #dividers by cafekitsune

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feverinfeveroutfic · 4 months

Text

”poison whiskey”

I was more than eager to meet up with Alex again for the night before the first night of Hanukkah, especially since I knew that his mom had made some mulled wine for the occasion and especially since I knew that boy was fearless enough to have an entire glass full all for himself. I could bring along some of the homemade spicy hot chocolate brownies as well, because I knew that he was going to indulge to his heart's content. I wanted to watch him eat and drink and be merry, and I knew that he was going to enjoy what else I had in store for him as well. I had called him the night before and told him that I had made some things for their little shindig before they lit up the menorah for that first night, and I could hear that slight huskiness to his voice all the while, especially when he mentioned the wine and the donut holes that his mother and grandmother had been making all day long. The sufganiyot, the latkes with the sour cream and applesauce... it all sounded so decadent on top of the wine and the brisket.

Oh, so much food was on the horizon for us both, and for him in particular.

Of course, I knew that his parents were going to be there so I had to think ahead. Think ahead as to what I was going to do, and moreover, what he was about to do as well. I knew that look in his eyes, and I swore that it felt as though he could read my mind, too. He and I, we had good chemistry together, and when I went to bed that night, I remembered that his parents knew nothing about it as well. At least that was what Alex had told me, that he never told his parents about the little fire and flames between the two of us.

I had no idea as to what to wear so I put on my nicest sweater and my slip ons lest they see me again with my tennis shoes: Jerry had seen me many a number of times in them, but now was not the time. They let me into the house, whereby I spotted Alex on the sofa with a glass of the mulled wine in one hand and a sufganiyot rested upon the plate on his lap. He wore a black and blue sweater with a menorah knitted on the front, and I could tell it was rather snug in fitting. Indeed, I let my eyes wander down to his waist to see his belt struggled a bit. I remembered when he got that belt, too, and yet I couldn't help but laugh to myself, either.

After all of that food, after all of that excess and indulgence that I had treated unto him, and he still only had a little round belly on his body, which told me that he was probably up to thirty pounds at that point. May he always look so cute and so voluptuous.

He gazed on at me as he ran his long lanky fingers through those long black curls down over his shoulder with his free hand, and those cherry lips slowly turned up into a little smile. He radiated the warmth of the lit candles on the menorah and yet his eyes stared right through me, the coldest of water through the coldest of temples.

“You're just in time, Eric,” he greeted me when Jerry doubled back into the kitchen and when I had entered the living room and stood there in the doorway with the little Tupperware in one hand. “Dinner's almost ready.”

“Perfect,” I replied, and I strode on closer to him. He swallowed and bowed his head a bit as if he was trying to further entice me. The boy already knew how to entice me just by sitting there in that little sweater.

“By the way, are those made with veggie oil?” he asked me with a quick flick of a glimpse to the can in my hand.

“You know it,” I replied, and I took my spot next to him there on the couch. “What exactly do you eat the night before Hanukkah?”

“The night before, we like to eat whatever we feel like,” he explained. “Mom and my grandmother already made these sufganiyot so I decided to help myself before we have our lasagna. It's that first night where we've really gotta start having the food made with oil. The food with the oil and the Hanukkah gelt, even though I'm not a little kid anymore.” He flashed me a wink and nibbled on his sufganiyot, that round, golden brown orb of a donut hole packed with the strawberry jam and dusted with some powdered sugar.

“I'm going to assume there's plenty more where that came from,” I suggested.

“Oh, you know it,” he assured me with the back of his hand covering his mouth. “You're going to be over tomorrow night, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn't be your best friend if I didn't come on over for the first night, now would I?”

I rested my free hand on his knee, much to his amusement. If only I could actually have him read my mind, then it would save us some time. He sipped on the mulled wine, albeit with his eyes closed and the sufganiyot steady in his hand. Indeed, I was more than eager to try it for myself after a big hearty dinner of cheese lasagna, made with three different kinds of cheeses, and homemade dinner rolls with fresh, warm butter. His parents always treated me well whenever I came over, and more so when I showed them the brownies.

The brownies in junction with the sufganiyot and the mulled wine, and Alex was staggering into his bedroom with a nice little bloat to his belly, which I could see from under his sweater.

I snickered to myself, especially when I followed him back there as his parents talked amongst themselves. I padded in there and closed the door part of the way behind me.

“God...” he breathed out, and he lay down flat on his back with his legs spread out before him on the bed. I held still there with my back to the door, especially since I had no idea as to what to do right then. My mind fell blank. Usually I knew what to do but not this time, not under his parents' roof.

“Are... you okay?” I asked him in a tiny voice.

“I always eat too much when it comes to Hanukkah,” he groaned, “even the night before...” And he rested the back of one hand upon his forehead. The hem of his sweater lifted up, and he showed off a big stripe of skin on his belly. He was still so slender but his belly was starting to look quite round and gorgeous. His hips were full, and his thighs were still rather strong and sculpted in shape. I licked my lips as I closed the door part of the way: his parents were preoccupied downstairs, and thus, I had him all to myself.

He bent his legs up a bit so I had a full view of his crotch as well as the backs of his thighs.

At the same time, though, he was just right. He was right where I wanted him to be. He was at the point where I needed him to be all this time.

I nibbled on my bottom lip as I inched closer to him and the bed.

“You think...” I began, and he lifted his head. His eyes drooped closed, and he kept his lips parted a bit. I loved seeing him all sleepy like that.

“I think what?”

I showed him my tongue along the rim of my bottom lip, to which he raised his eyebrows at me.

“Not my parents' house,” he begged.

“Yes. Your parents' house.”

I peered over my shoulder to ensure the door was closed: it was closed part of the way but they had their attention fixed elsewhere. I then returned to him, and I climbed up onto the bed. He locked eyes with me, but he never moved an inch.

“Hold still,” I advised him anyway, and I undid his pants for him. He parted his lips and let out a low whistle from the feeling. Slowly, I ran the tip of my finger along his smooth skin there under his belly button. So smooth, like porcelain; he shivered from the feeling.

“Yeah, you like that, don't you,” I teased him, and I lowered my head down to his waist for a light caress of the skin. He shivered again, and that time, he hoisted himself up onto his elbows.

“Don't,” he begged me.

“Why not?” I asked him with a smirk.

“Just... please. Eric, I'm begging you. Don't do it.”

“Why not? You know you like it. You like the feeling of something soft on your something soft.” I bowed my head down to his belly again, right underneath his belly button where it curved down towards his hips. I returned my gaze to him, right as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back again. I looked on at his beautiful neck, and I crawled up to his shoulders for a kiss there on the side.

“Promise the door is closed,” he breathed out.

“It absolutely is,” I whispered into his ear. “You seriously don't have to worry about your parents, either. Trust me.” I kissed the rim of his ear, followed by a line down the side of his neck to his collar.

I wanted to show him what I had had in mind for the duration of dinner, however. Gently, I coaxed him back down onto his back with his head on the pillow and his arms out on either side of him so he could be wide open. Careful not to kick him in the head, I turned around over his body and planted my knees on either side of his head. With one hand, I reached down and undid the button followed by the zipper on my pants. I looked down to ensure that I was right over his head and shoulders, and I was met with his slightly crossed eyes and delirious facial expression right underneath the crotch of my pants.

I licked my lips and tugged down some more. I showed him what I had underneath my belt as well, and I couldn't help but give my hips a little wiggle while I was at it.

“Whew, boy, second dessert!” he declared, and he sounded slightly out of breath all the while. I set my hand back down to better steady myself. I was face to face with the crotch of his pants as well; I knew I had to use my one hand again to show himself to me.

I could feel him undoing my pants for me. The mere sensation of his fingers on me was enough to send the deepest chill up and down my spine like a zipper. I could feel myself rising up over his face.

It was tricky to undo his pants given his belt was so snug on his body, but somehow I managed to do it with one hand. I unfastened the button of his pants, followed by the zipper, and I tugged them down to expose his underwear.

“You got it?” he asked me in a broken voice.

“Sort of...” I tugged down the elastic waistband of his underwear, and there he was, right before my eyes, already with a slight hard on going: he just needed some air and a little more coaxing. I smiled to myself as I brought my face down to him with my lips wide open. I could feel him doing the same for me, too.

We were doing it. We had our tongues on each other's tails, and I closed my eyes to better relish the feeling.

His long fingers held onto my hips to steady me over his body, and I never let go of the top of the mattress. There was a part of me that wanted to be on the bottom, especially since this was his parents' house, but he knew how to top from the bottom with that velvet tongue of his.

I was going to make him top from the bottom, even when I could feel something pearly on my tongue. I swallowed, and I could hear him swallowing right behind me as well.

“That’s how we do second dessert, big boy,” I sputtered out with my tongue still against his head.

“You’re going to be needing a lot more dessert than that—!” And he sank his teeth gently into my shaft. A little pain went a long way, and with me in particular. It hurt, but I couldn’t resist the smile on my face. I let out a pained groan but I followed it up with some laughter, and I didn’t give a shit if his parents heard me or not.

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zapreportsblog · 1 year

Note

Girl I think we all need some poly ghostface where stu and billy are teasing the reader and talking about them like their not there, "i dont know...maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want..." ;)) it can be smut or not idm. Love ur writing so much <33333

❝highschool detective on the case❞

✭ pairing : poly ghostface x reader

✭ fandom : scream

✭ summary : (y/n) is the new girl who just moved up from (hometown) she has a crazy fetish when it comes to serial killers having taken it upon herself to even solve unsolved murder cases - which she gets from her father. He was the top detective in his unit after all. Upon hearing about this ghostface killer she dives into detective mood grabbing their attention in the process

✭ authors note : I think we all are borderline psychotic when it comes to these two nibwits also thank you for requesting and I’m glad you’re enjoying my works so far :)

✭ slashers masterlist

Woodsboro High School buzzed with the energy of a new school year, and (Y/N) had just arrived, ready to start fresh in this unfamiliar town. As she stepped onto the campus, her presence stood out like a stark contrast to the other students.

She wore a leather trench coat that fell just past her thighs, giving her an enigmatic aura. Low-rise washed-out jeans hugged her hips, revealing a tattoo on her lower stomach. Her hair was styled in a pixie cut, and dark shades shielded her eyes, giving her an almost FBI agent-like mystique. Chunky boots completed her unconventional ensemble, and a crop top black vest shirt adorned with a rhinestone skull on the breast part added an edgy touch.

As she walked through the courtyard, students couldn't help but stare and whisper amongst themselves, wondering who this mysterious new girl was and what her story might be. (Y/N), however, seemed oblivious to the attention, her mind focused on something else entirely.

Reclining on a bench, she delved into the contents of her notes. In her lap lay a case file, weathered by time and use, filled with photographs, notes, and articles. It was the unsolved murder case from her hometown that her father, a dedicated detective, had entrusted to her once the trail had gone cold.

(Y/N) was determined to find answers and bring closure to the grieving families back home, even if it meant uprooting her life and starting anew in Woodsboro. The gravity of the task weighed heavily on her, and her fierce dedication to solving the case had become her driving force.

Throughout the day, students at Woodsboro High had been attempting to strike up conversations with (Y/N), but her terse responses and preoccupied demeanor made it clear that she had little interest in making friends. She was on a mission, and she had no time for idle chitchat.

At lunch, (Y/N) found a quiet spot to sit alone, her case file still in her lap as she reviewed the evidence once more. Lost in thought, she didn't notice Stu, one of her classmates, approaching from behind. He playfully wrapped his arms around her shoulders and said, "Now, what do we have here?"

(Y/N) stiffened at the unexpected contact but quickly composed herself. She turned to glance at Stu, taking in his appearance before responding with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you a bit too old to not know about personal hygiene?"

Stu, looking slightly offended, discreetly sniffed himself and made a face. "Hey, I don't stink!"

Tatum, Stu's girlfriend, along with her friends Sidney and Sidney's boyfriend, also joined the group, curious about the interaction. Randy, another student, chimed in, intrigued by (Y/N)'s mysterious presence. "What's that you're reading?" he asked, peering at her lap.

In her usual blunt tone, (Y/N) replied, "A case."

The group exchanged puzzled glances, clearly taken aback by her straightforward response. Stu was the first to regain his composure, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "A case, huh? You're a detective or something?"

(Y/N) didn't provide any additional information, her eyes returning to the contents of the file. She was used to curious glances and questions, but her focus remained unwavering on her mission to uncover the truth.

Randy's curiosity remained unabated, and he leaned in closer, asking, "So, what's the case about?"

(Y/N) let out a sigh and put her notes aside, her expression serious as she shared a glimpse of her purpose. "I'm trying to solve a cold case from my hometown. It involves a young woman who was violently beaten and tortured."

Tatum raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. "But if it's a cold case, why are you trying to solve it now?"

(Y/N) shrugged, her dedication evident in her reply. "It's just a hobby I enjoy."

Billy, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but become more intrigued. He leaned in with a casual demeanor and asked, "So, you're into things like that, huh?"

(Y/N) met his gaze with a cool, unwavering stare. "Yup. I was raised watching the dangers of the world and even experiencing it."

The group fell silent for a moment, absorbing (Y/N)'s cryptic response. Her presence had added an unexpected layer of mystery to their lunchtime gathering, and they couldn't help but wonder about the secrets she held and the motivations driving her pursuit of a cold case.

Sidney, feeling a twinge of awkwardness, couldn't help but blurt out, "What kind of experiences are you talking about?" But she quickly realized the insensitivity of her question and immediately apologized, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

(Y/N) simply shrugged off the awkward moment, her demeanor unphased by Sidney's unintended bluntness. "No worries," she replied calmly before elaborating on her past. "I've seen quite a bit, to be honest. When I was three, I watched an unsub murder my mom right in front of me."

Sidney's eyes widened in shock, regret for her earlier question apparent on her face.

(Y/N) continued, her tone steady. "Then, when I was thirteen, I was kidnapped as part of a blackmail attempt against my father. He's a detective, you see. Since then, I've been to all sorts of crime scenes, helping him with his work."

Stu couldn't help but comment, "Wow, that's dark."

Billy, mumbling under his breath, added, "Wicked."

(Y/N) acknowledged their reactions with a nonchalant nod, as if her experiences were just a matter-of-fact part of her life. She had learned to cope with the darkness she had witnessed and embraced her role as an amateur detective, eager to make sense of the chaos around her.

Breaking the now oncoming silence (Y/N) decides to ask her own question, “So what’s fun around here?” Tatum taking it upon herself decides to reply back whiles filing her mails, “Not much honestly, though shopping is always on the table.”

But (Y/N) wasn't interested in the usual teenage pastimes. She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, and clarified, "No, no, no! I'm talking murder cases here, blonde. Anything good?"

Randy, who had already labeled her as a weirdo, rolled his eyes, muttering, "Oh, no, not another weirdo."

(Y/N) couldn't help but give Randy a proud smirk, as if she embraced that title with pride. Sidney and Tatum, perhaps sensing the direction the conversation was about to take, excused themselves from the group.

Stu, always eager for attention, chimed in, "You know, Sidney's mom's murder was pretty wild. She was having an affair, and the guy must've gone crazy and slaughtered her."

(Y/N) listened intently, a crazed look in her eyes, and responded, "Yeah, now there's the good stuff. Tell me more."

Billy, with a hint of excitement in his voice, added, "There was also the murder of those two students not too long ago. It was pretty brutal."

"A murder, you say?" (Y/N) leaned in with an unsettling grin, her curiosity piqued. "Tell me about it."

Stu, relishing the chance to share a gruesome tale, went into chilling detail about the murder. "Well, my ex, Cassie, she was slaughtered. Her body was found strung up by her own organs in her front yard. It was... brutal. And her boyfriend, Derek, was found duct-taped to a lawn chair and drowned in the pool at her house. His intestines were out too."

(Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with a disturbing excitement as she listened to the horrifying description. She pressed for more information, asking, "Any leads on the killer?"

The boys exchanged glances and shook their heads. "No, not really," Billy admitted.

Randy added, "And Sidney, she was attacked a few nights after that. She said the killer was masked and wore what looked like a ghost mask."

(Y/N)'s grin widened at the mention of the masked killer, her fascination with the macabre evident. It seemed that the darker the story, the more it intrigued her. The group had unwittingly drawn her into their web of murder mysteries, and little did they know that her relentless pursuit of the truth would soon unearth secrets that would put them all in grave danger.

“Seems this town just got a little more interesting,'" (y/n) remarked with an eerie grin as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. She gathered her things and excused herself, leaving Randy to his own devices as he followed suit and left.

Now, only Stu and Billy remained alone at the table. Billy's eyes darkened, and a sinister glint danced in them as he leaned in closer to Stu. He asked in a hushed tone, "Should we go after her tonight?"

Stu, hyped up by the disturbing stories and (Y/N)'s unnerving interest in murder cases, couldn't help but share Billy's excitement. He replied with an eager grin, "Hell yeah."

(Y/N) returned home after a long day at Woodsboro High, finding a note from her dad, the detective, explaining that he would be back late, as usual. With a resigned sigh, she decided to unwind, slipping into comfortable sweatpants and a tank top.

She settled onto the couch, surrounded by an array of open books, articles, and her laptop, her research materials for delving into the recent murders that had captured her fascination. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of her laptop screen.

Hours passed as she scoured the internet for any information about the brutal murders that had taken place in Woodsboro. (Y/N)'s determination was unwavering, her thirst for answers driving her to dig deeper into the dark mysteries of the town.

The hours dragged on, and fatigue began to creep in. Despite her best efforts, the weight of exhaustion overcame her, and (Y/N) eventually drifted into a fitful nap on the couch, her mind still haunted by the gruesome details of the unsolved murders that had consumed her thoughts.

(Y/N) woke up late at night, the room cast in darkness except for the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She glanced at the clock, which read 10:00 PM. Her dad still hadn't returned home, but she was used to his late hours.

Feeling hungry, she decided to order some food delivery to keep her going while she continued her research. As she dialed her order, anticipation for a late-night snack grew. She gave the delivery address and hung up, ready to return to her work.

Just as she settled back into her research, her phone rang, startling her. She picked it up, and at first, the voice on the other end played it off as a wrong number. But then they began asking personal questions.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" the voice inquired.

(Y/N), her curiosity piqued, retorted playfully, "Why? You trying to ask me out?"

The person on the other line let out a smirk, their tone suggestive as they asked again, "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

(Y/N) decided to tease them with an equally suggestive response, "Perhaps." She was intrigued by the mysterious caller and couldn't help but engage in their unusual late-night conversation.

As (Y/N) found herself engaged in this mysterious late-night conversation, her curiosity only grew when the person on the other end suggested, "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?" she asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

The voice on the phone responded, "I want to know your favorite scary movie."

(Y/N) didn't hesitate to share her interests. "Well, I really enjoyed 'The Craft.' It's a fascinating blend of witchcraft, teenage rebellion, and a dash of horror. The story revolves around a group of high school girls who form a coven and use their newfound powers for personal gain. But as their abilities grow, so does the darkness that haunts them. It's a captivating exploration of the consequences of wielding supernatural abilities and the complexities of female friendship."

She paused briefly before continuing, "Another one I really liked is 'Thinner.' It's based on a Stephen King novel and tells the story of a morbidly obese lawyer who's cursed by a gypsy and begins to inexplicably lose weight at an alarming rate. The film delves into themes of karma, guilt, and the unintended consequences of our actions. The slow, agonizing transformation of the main character is both terrifying and thought-provoking."

(Y/N) went on to describe the intricate details of both films, her passion for horror movies evident in her animated discussion. She shared her insights on the characters, the plot twists, and the underlying themes, displaying an impressive knowledge of the genre. The mysterious caller on the other end seemed intrigued by her enthusiasm.

The person on the other end of the line, after inquiring about her favorite scary movies, pressed for her name. (Y/N), however, wasn't so quick to reveal her identity. "Why should I tell you my name when you haven't told me yours?" she countered.

A sinister chuckle came through the phone before the voice replied, "Because I want to know the name of who I'm watching right now. Nice top, by the way."

(Y/N), far from being scared, merely rolled her eyes and glanced out the window behind her. She smirked into the darkness and said, "So, this is the infamous killer of Woodsboro? Would've expected better, but then again, you're just a small-town killer."

The voice on the other end of the line grew audibly offended, and they began to issue chilling threats. They spoke of slicing her open, just like they had done to Cassie, and leaving her hanging for her father to find. The threats were meant to intimidate, to strike fear into (Y/N)'s heart.

However, she remained surprisingly unshaken. Instead of cowering, she chuckled, a mix of defiance and amusement in her voice. "Give it your best shot," she taunted, her bravado unwavering. "I'm not one to back down from a challenge."

The late-night conversation had taken a menacing turn, and (Y/N) was about to find herself entangled in a perilous game of wits and survival with a cunning and ruthless adversary.

The next day at school, (Y/N) arrived with an unusual cheeriness about her. Stu and the rest of her newfound friends couldn't help but notice her upbeat demeanor, and Stu was the first to comment, asking, "What's got you so cheery today?"

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, (Y/N) replied, "Oh, you won't believe this. I've got video footage of Ghostface trying to break into my house."

The revelation sent shockwaves through the group, their eyes widening in disbelief. "No way," they chimed in unison.

(Y/N), however, seemed nonchalant as she waved off their amazement. "Yes way," she affirmed, laughing it off as if it were just another everyday occurrence.

Randy couldn't help but express his surprise. "I'm surprised you're not dead," he remarked, his tone laced with incredulity.

(Y/N) shrugged, her explanation casual. "My dad had our houses revamped before we moved here. Custom locks, gateways, and cameras. No one gets in unless they want them to. It's like living in a fortress."

As the group absorbed this information, (Y/N) decided to take a teasing turn. She smirked and declared, "Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven't been hunted like this in a while."

The reaction from her friends was mixed, to say the least. Most were creeped out by her unusual enthusiasm, especially given the recent unsettling events. But Stu and Billy, the true culprits behind the Ghostface mask, couldn't help but exchange sly glances. Their nefarious plan was in motion, and (Y/N) had just unknowingly stoked the flames of their sinister game.

Billy couldn't resist adding a chilling remark, his tone laced with dark humor, "I don't know... maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want."

“What’s the suppose to mean?” (Y/n) remarks and billy shrugs it off “Who knows maybe the killer is somewhere watching you, after all you can never be too careful.”

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cause-between-and-beyond · 29 days

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Masterlist

Sandbox (tag link) - Self-indulgent, continuity-what-continuity storylines, typically centering around whatever the current main interest is.

Hearts of Giants (tag link) - Transformers, plural OC-centric, said OC have a paracosm of their own

Shattered Skies (tag link) - Initially based off of Fractures & War of the Ender Kingdoms by Rainimator on Youtube, but it’s since grown into its own thing. Divided into three eras, major theme is hope.

A Sky Full of Stars (tag link, masterpost link) - Five people try to save their dimension from invasion while navigating their own issues; a long-lost princess deals with being thrust into politics, untreated mental illness, and imperialism; and other stories set between the cracking of the world's foundations and the arrival of a malicious extradimensional being.

#masterlist #pinned post #for now #this is your host speaking #immersive daydreaming #maladaptive daydreaming #slightly afraid of this getting into the fandom tags? yes #nevertheless we continue #we provide some context #<- tag for posts that actually provide some context slash explain things

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chuluoyi · 5 months

Text

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

6K notes · View notes

sehnsuchts-trunken · 2 months

Text

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader 7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

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