#so writing might need to be put on hold until i shut everything down and update bc wtf

[fictionandfixation]

MORE Older Bachelor Headcanons (spicy edition)

The residents of tumbr dot com were biiiig fans of these last time. Decided I was going to slut it up just for you guys and serve you some more Stardew Dilf Content. Love these three so much tbh. I might also branch out in the future and write some for my chosen wlw marriage candidates Leah and Haley and the other bachelorettes (?) because the demographics I am a fan of include a) dilfs and b) every femme ever to exist, ever, in the world, in the universe, ever. Amen.

Anyway. Enjoy your SDV Older Bachelors. The following IS slutty. MDNI. Gender neutral reader. Lowkey some of my favourite writing of late.

Harvey ☕️🔬📚

Slow. Methodical. He's taking his time with you. Slow, however, does not mean boring. Harvey loves fine details. And everything about you is a fine detail.

World's switchiest switch. Looks up at you like you're God when you ask it of him. Like he's under a spell. And, at other times, holds you down and coaxes you directly into oblivion.

Genuinely almost loses his shit altogether when you wear his clothes. Wear his button-downs. Wear his boxers. Fuck. If he's got anything to say about it, you won't be wearing them for long.

Wants absolutely nothing more than to be close to you, skin on skin, for as long as is physically possible. Rubs your neck and shoulders. Buries his head in your hair. Pushes in deep, deep, deep, holds you encased in his arms. Fucks like he wants to touch your soul.

Occasionally, jealous. The only time he gets a little rough, a little messy, tearing at clothes, biting at neck, hands at throat. You like to poke the bear for fun sometimes. You don't regret it. You're always his. He knows.

Head game is absolutely immense. Legs over shoulders, kneeling in front of you holding your thighs, he doesn't care.

Low groans direct into your ear. You lucky thing.

Elliott 📜🖋️🐚

Sensual in the most literal sense of the word. Deprivation is the name of the game, and blindfolds, ties, wax, incense and a fairly sizeable number of appliances are the rules.

Gentle but ruthless. One foot in the door of pleasure dom. Won't stop until you're just about ready to collapse, and watches you like you're a prey animal all the while. Not dominating in the traditional sense of the word - but he puts you in your place all right. A choice word or two. A select amount of pain. And suddenly, you’ll do whatever he asks.

Talks you through it. Soft, authoritative. Read a few too many books not to have picked up a trick of the tongue or two. Or ten. He never runs out of things to say to turn your brain to mush.

Gorgeous, slender hands. Firm hands. Hands that get to places you weren't even sure existed. Hands that have you trembling at the legs and begging and sweating.

Loves it when you break out the dominance. Has an attitude about it, too. You could knock it out of him with a couple of ropes and a silk tie in the mouth if you so chose. What a treat.

Whimpers when he gives in. Whines. Squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back and begs and pants and lets your name tumble out his mouth. He's good. He knows it. Sometimes, you're better. He knows it.

Shane 🍺🍕🐓

He’s rough. Punishing. He drinks sometimes, but not often any more. He has a new favourite place to put all that hate - a place that loves it, that snaps it up and keeps on coming back for more. You’re more enticing than any other high he’s ever chased.

Wants you hard and messy and often. He can’t get enough. There are days when it’s all he thinks about, how he needs it, needs it, needs it so bad. Those are some of your favourite days.

Strong as a bull. He knows it. Holds you down and lifts you and pins you against walls like it’s nobody’s business. He’s wide, has thick everything, and has muscle to boot. Big rough hands. Around your neck, gripping your hips with force. He wants to touch every inch, wants to sink his fingers so deep and bruising that you become one person.

Not loud, but fuck if he doesn’t grunt. Sounds like an animal. Fucks a lot like one too.

Mean. Rude. Insulting, sometimes. You love it. He’s authoritative, commanding. You do as he asks, and he rewards you well.

And sometimes, he’s gentle. Sometimes, he’s sleepy and sore and lays behind you in bed and makes love to you lazily, naturally. Still strong, holding your legs apart, gripping your hips, but so, so loving and close, whispering to you how much he adores you, how good you make him feel.

Lives in terror that he’s going to hurt you one day. He never does.

[eskawrites]

wip weekend!

tagged by @lesbianlotties thank youuuu! i really wanted to get some substantial writing in tonight this is a great way to kick off <3

rules

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post.

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in or just post.

wips:

nancy pov actual story

nancy and robin and touch*

sleepy nights backup patrol*

i am human (and i need to be loved)

May Chaos Take the World (elden ring au ii)

*these are technically both in the thriving in the apocalypse doc, but those are the names of the headers they're under

snippet from nancy and robin and touch

But there’s no way Robin and Steve would ever date—no doubt in either of their minds, no risk of a casual touch being misread because Robin was a girl and Steve was a guy—all because they both know Robin likes girls. And Nancy—Nancy is a girl. An analytical, detail-oriented, read-into-every-situation-just-in-case-there’s-something-hidden-beneath-it girl. So even if there’s nothing behind any of their touches—and she’s never thought that there is—she now has information that could lead her to question even the smallest gestures.

i never know who to tag so if you see this then consider yourself tagged! tell the people i tagged you! go work on your wips and yell about it on the internet 'cause we want to see it!

[comicaurora]

Hi, Red. I'm hoping you can put on your writing advice hat for a second. I've tried to write stories several times and think I'm pretty good at outlining plots. But the wall I always hit is that when I try to write the character's dialogue they all sound the same, ie they talk exactly the same way I do. At which point I give up. Any suggestions?

Ah, character voice! A tricky blend of strategy and ✨vibes✨ goes into picking one, but mostly they can be drawn cleanly from the underpinnings of the character themself.

Narrowing in on a character voice can be helped initially with some basic brute-force Q&A:

How polite/formal is this character? Would they pick their words carefully to avoid offense? Do they use honorifics or nicknames? Are they impulsive and often thoughtless, saying things in clumsy, unpolished ways that might offend? Do they aim to offend?

How confident is this character? Do they stutter, do they pepper in "um" and "ah"? Do they always know how the sentence will end before they start it? Do they turn statements into questions or vice versa? Are they guileless and open? Guarded and wary? What, if anything, makes them shut down?

What does this character prioritize? An explainer wants their audience to understand exactly what they're going for, so their dialogue will be clarifying and perhaps a bit long. A character who doesn't care what anyone believes might not be willing to waste time explaining themself. A character who cares more about everyone getting along might spend their dialogue defusing arguments or placating emotional rough patches; a character looking for a fight might aim to create those rough patches.

How silly is this little guy? Some characters will spot opportunities for levity and go for it. Some characters can't help themselves and will turn everything into a gag. Some will recognize a joke and pointedly ignore it until everyone gets back on track. Some have no sense of humor. All of this will determine what kinds of lines they will and won't say.

How emphatic are they? Some characters would never dream of using an exclamation point. Some couldn't end a sentence with anything else.

What's their frame of reference? One person's normal is another person's incomprehensible. A character totally at home in a certain environment or situation will carry themself through it very differently than someone who's out of their depth.

How insightful are they? Are they profoundly introspective or are they holding the door shut on their collapsing tupperware stack of emotional issues? If someone else is in distress, can they find a way to help, or do they maybe get frustrated at their inability to do so? Can they glean what's bothering someone or do they need to be told? What kind of things are obvious to them, and what flies over their head?

And etcetera. There's tons of questions you could add here, but they're just to get a gist. A character voice is genuinely less about tone and accent and whether or not they use contractions and more about, like. Would They Fuckin Say That. Everything else is icing as far as I'm concerned.

[starryal1na]

─ 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

genre: fluff, sfw

word count: 1.4k

characters: aventurine, sunday, boothill, mr reca, alhaitham, kaveh

notes: those headcanons are coming from my silly little mind so don't take them too seriously (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i tried to write them as canon as possible but it might come off as a bit ooc (especially mr reca since we still don't know much about him...) i personally had lots of fun writing for them since they are my favorites male characters from the games <333

Aventurine 𔘓

kisses you as if it were his last – an emotional kisser – needs to be complimented

If you're at the kissing stage with him, congratulations since he doesn't let just anyone in his life. Let alone sharing such an intimate act. Kissing Aventurine may come across as desperate, dare I say needy. It's a lot since he pours all of his emotions into each press of his lips on yours. You feel everything– his complete devotion to you, his fear of losing you, even his inner battles about whether keeping you in his life is a good idea. Even so, each of his kiss is meaningful. No matter how intense it gets, you cherish the way he allows himself to put his guards down with you.

Since he has low self-esteem, compliment him on how good his lips feel on yours. Whisper sweet words here and there between kisses until his features soften, easing all of his worries. Because he craves validation more than anything, your praise will have his heart melting in no time. Only then will he feel more confident, taking the lead and locking your lips in a passionate heated kiss. He will leave you panting and asking for more <3

Sunday 𔘓

kisses you with the greatest care – your lips are his hyperfixation (he will think about them all day long)

He is kinda shy, not daring initiate a kiss even though he dreams of kissing you over and over again. Ever since your first kiss, Sunday hasn't been able to get enough. He unapologetically stares at your lips when you talk, smile or even eat something, fantasizing about making them swollen from a make out session. All his thoughts shut down as soon as you indulge him, crashing your lips against his. It's like he is on cloud nine, the plush of your lips eager yet delicate.

His lips are soft, the softest you've ever felt. He isn’t particularly fond of tongue kissing so he prefers to give you soft, gentle pecks. However, if he feels confident he will deepen them, his body pressing closer to yours as muffled gasps of delight escapes his mouth. And when he kisses you, it’s as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. He is careful with the way he holds you, as if you might break if he dares to tighten his grip. Speaking of hands, he is always touching you. His personal favorite is keeping one hand on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone while resting the other on your waist guiding you even closer to him <3

Boothill 𔘓

a biter – and a cheeky kisser – loves to cover your face in kisses only to smother your lips over and over again

He is all for heatedly making out with you. It doesn't matter if you're in public or not, he isn't unshamed at all if it means having his pretty lover panting in his robotic arms. He loves to tease you, especially with his sharp pointy teeth. Whenever you're sitting on his lap, breathlessly following the lead Boothill sets for your make out session, he grazes his sharpened teeth over your bottom lip at some point. It's just enough to hurt a little but he knows deep down you like it this way, so why not take advantage of it ?

Aside from the biting, Boothill also loves teasing you by purposely avoiding your lips. In those moments you wish you had the power to complain, but you're left speechless. He is surprisingly soft as he presses his lips against your forehead, eyelids, cheekbones and then all the way down to your chin and neck. He is taking his time with you, cherishing these quiet moments with you since being a Galaxy Ranger is far from being safe. It's when you're looking at him with eyes full of love, of belonging, that he locks your lips into a tender kiss. But, as cheeky as he is, he pulls away only to press another kiss on your lips, this time with more force. Then another, and another, until it turns into quick breath-stealing kisses. It’s endearing though, how utterly adorable he can be when it comes to you and the way he loves you <3

Mr Reca 𔘓

a perfomative kisser – needs the setting to be perfect in order to kiss you – makes comments about the kisses

As a film director, Reca is an expert at building up a romantic kissing moment— and that applies to his love life as well. Whenever he wants to kiss you, it has to be perfectly executed, to the point where he practically writes the script for your kisses beforehand. It might comes across as superficial, but that’s just how he operates. Otherwise he’d be disappointed in himself. The setting must be romantic enough, so he usually takes you to a breathtaking landscape, a luxurious restaurant or carefully arrange your shared space– dimly lit with candles, with soft, romantic music playing in the background. Every detail must align with his vision of the perfect moment.

Kissing him is perfect. As intented. You don't mind that it was planned since you acknowledge his need to be in control of it. He just wants to be good to you. Plus, he knows how to work you up. Tilting your chin up, he compliments you on how gorgeous you look before closing the gap between your lips. The warmth of his lips is so comforting to you, as is the way he holds you. You can't help but roll your eyes when you hear the enthusiastic "magnificient !" comment he manages to blurt out. The only response he gets is you deepening the kiss, determined to shut him up for good <3

Alhaitham 𔘓

lazy kisser – doesn't kiss a lot but when he does he blows your mind – leaves you breathless and acts like nothing happened

He barely takes the initiative himself, unless you’ve been making out for a long time. Alhaitham's lack of action doesn't come from not enjoying it— it's just that he doesn't really think about it. Most of the time, it's you who come to him asking for a kiss. He never denies you the pleasure of having your pretty lips on his but, like I said, you have to work for it. If you don’t, he simply stands there and give you a chaste kiss.

Other times it's just that Alhaitham likes to tease you, purposely reacting slowly until you grow impatient and take matters into your own hands. Alhaitham patiently waits, curious to see how far you want to go with him. You have piqued his interest and that's all you needed, biting then licking his bottom lip before deepening the kiss. Soon enough, he is the one taking control, moving your lips together as he pulls you on his lap and keeps you as close as possible to him. Because yeah, Alhaitham can be very clingy when he wants to. As soon as you're done, he goes right back to his reading, looking completely unaffected (he is not though, he is internally blushing) <3

Kaveh 𔘓

kisses a lot – steals kisses whenever he has the chance to – unapologetic about the amount of kisses he shares with you (he is just a sweetheart okay)

He is the one who, I believe, would kiss you the most out of the others. He takes initiative a lot. Whenever you cross paths, he stops you just to press his lips on yours. Doing the dishes ? A kiss. Doing errands ? He subtly pulls you into a corner to steal one. Getting ready for the day ? One, two, three...... ten kisses before he finally lets you leave the house. You're not complaining, not when it means seeing him all giddy and flustered afterward. And honestly, it’s not like it leaves you indifferent either. So really, it’s a win-win situation.

The roles are reversed when he is overworking himself on a project. Convincing him to take a well-deserved break is tough, but once he does he is rewarded with the softest kisses in the quiet of his study. He sighs contentedly at the mere brush of your lips, as if you’ve just given him the ability to function properly all over again. His work fades from his mind the moment you leave him with shiny, swollen red lips. And if you sneak into his study every now and then to steal more kisses while he works, he doesn’t complain in the least <3

/!\ don't steal, translate or repost this and claim it as you own /!\

[harukyuu2]

Hii! I hope you're doing well! I saw your wind breaker with a childhood friend and I loved your writing! Could you write how the Furin first years would react when seeing fem.reader beating up a couple of guys causing trouble? Like, she would be pretty strong and beautiful, also really good at fighting. It could be a scenario or headcanons, whatever's best for you ^^

"Hold my purse, i'm gonna kick their asses!" - Furin first years x Fem!reader

!! - Fluff, headcanons !!, some of them can be a little ooc since im not sure how good i can write them, established relationship but first months of it (?? - small revision only

୨୧ - As you were walking to meet your s/o, your ears caught a weird sound coming from one of the valleys. As you walked over, you saw some guys threatening a girl against a wall— and you werent about to let her down! With no one else around to help, you went in alone, taking a deep breath and hoping the outfit you just put on wouldnt get ruined… or else you were going to kick their asses again once they're unconcious!

୨୧ - Haruka Sakura

❥ This man thought for a moment you werent coming at all, maybe you had something more important to do. But still, he started walking outside of the Cafe looking for you

❥ When he heard a harsh thump and saw that you beated up like four men alone?? , he wont admit it but it made him fall more for you than he already did

❥ He would probably rush to you and start lecturing you on why you shouldnt fight without asking for Furin's help— that its their job after all! But the way his eyes scan your body tells you everything… he's worried about you

❥ If your hair gets messy or your clothes a little dirty, he doesnt mind that much—youre still pretty, so he doesnt see the problem. If you start whining about a broken nail, he's not too sure what to do, but he might make a quick stop to buy you a bandaid and then grab your hand to make you feel better shut up!

❥ He would probably ask you for a fight, he just has that thing of loving to challenge strong people and not seeing it weird... Still, just give him a kiss to shut him up adding a small punch to his arm and you win tbh

❥ Would offer you a piece of his food to make you feel better and not guilty of making him wait. Please notice HE is sharing HIS FOOD, that just shows love!!

୨୧ - Hayato Suo

❥ This man worried so much that you werent coming by now, or even texting him back :( The moment a minute passed, the moment he went out looking for you

❥ He was walking towards the street you usually get distracted by the stray cats, but he stopped in his tracks recognizing your voice with another girl in one of the valleys

❥ The scene unfolding in front of him was honestly amusing to him and piqued his curiosity— a girl sobbing into your shoulder while you comforted her, and a group of men lying on the floor? Was that… your handiwork?

❥ He walked up to you and smiled gently, asking if you two were okay! He has zero shame, so he probably grabbed your hands to check them, maybe sneaking in a caress here and there while scolding you for not telling him you were about to pick a fight. You left your boyfriend scared! He also checked on the other girl— just not touchy as he is with you ofc

❥ When the girl thanked you two, probably exchanged her socials with you and leaved, damnnn, expect a wave of teasing from Suo. No matter how you respond, he'll find a way to twist it back into teasing until youre pouting. Then, with that smug grin of his, he'll say he doesnt want to pick a fight with you, so you should calm down!

❥ If youre sad that your hair got messy, he's instantly brushing it for you. If your outfit got a little wrinkled, he would fix it with his hands! maybe a little squeeze here and there to annoy you.. and if any of your nails got broken, he would offer to pay an appointment with a nail salon for you— Basically he would treat you the rest of the date since you amused him and because you need it after a fight <3

୨୧ - Mitsuki Kiryu

❥ He sent you more than 300 messages and stickers, lets not even mention the calls. He usually goes with you to make sure your date goes safely, but this is the first—and probably last—time he lets you walk alone, knowing how dangerous the streets can be at this hour. Yeaahh, maybe he's exaggerating a little. He'll let you walk alone again… probably. But still, he feels a little guilty that something could had happened to you

❥ Once he searches for you and founds you on a dirty valley being thanked by a girl while the floor has fainted mans on it, he isnt too surprised— he knows he choosed a strong and pretty girlfriend! Still, he feels kinda guilty that he wasnt there for you...

❥ Baby goes to check on you two quickly and pats your head saying you made a good job, but of course scolds you saying that you should warn him about this situations, he wants to take care of you too!

❥ You two walked the girl to her house making sure she gets there safely and then finally started having your date! He would get you to buy accesories, clothes or something you want if youre grumbling about the fight ruining your outfit— he wants to see you happy <3

❥ Probably ended in the arcade to get plushies and play some of the games, Kiryu loves them and also loves you so its the perfect plan! It wont be easy getting a win against him tho, but atleast he reassures you with plushies

❥ To be honest, it was one of the best dates—you got lots of praise, playful teasing, and even some gifts from him. Sure, you also got scolded for not telling him you were about to fight, but hey! You saved a girl! Definitely a day you two will remember for a long time

୨୧ - Nirei Akihiko

❥ Panics the first five minutes of you dissapearing and without thinking too much just starts running around looking for you, no matter what situation you are in, he will go for you!

❥ Once he founds you on a valley?? with like four men laying on the floor?? AND A GIRL HUGGING YOU LIKE YOU JUST SAVED HER LIFE?? The poor boy is going through seven different emotions and at the same time thinking he has to fill more your part in his journal

❥ He rushes towards you and starts asking you million of questions in a milisecond: "Are you okay?" "Youre hurt?" "did you beat up those guys?" "Where did you learn to fight?" "Oh, youre hair looks pretty! you used the conditioner you told me, right?" His mind is rushing just like his words, but calms down once you squeeze his shoulders

❥ He probably invites you to eat but can't help feeling a little guilty, unsure if he could've protected you the same way you did for that girl. You'll have to reassure him—just a little—to lift his mood up for now

❥ I cant unsee this relationship like "Sir, he asked for no pickles" type of thingy and i love ittt, once Nirei gets over his feeling of guilt he admires you so much that he sometimes doesnt know how he pulled you, youre on his mind 24/7 <3

୨୧ - Taiga Tsugeura

❥ Man said that if you didnt appear the moment he ends his ab crunches he would start looking out for you, and so he did! it was kinda scary for the people on the street seeing such a big guy running like his life depend on it, but atleast he is from Furin so no big problem!

❥ While you reassured the girl, she probably got scared seeing a big guy running toward you two— but quickly turned confused when he accidentally kicked one of the unconscious men, muttered a quick "sorry," and then suddenly softened up, asking if you were okay and telling you that you missed him doing twenty ab crunches!

❥ He probably apologized for not being here to you two and then suddenly told you that this is your virtue! being a strong and pretty girl who saves other girls!

❥ This man got obsessed with the idea of his girlfriend being strong! He'd start ranting about workout routines you could try at the gym, maybe even recommending proteins you might like. Oh! And dont forget—you need a good balance of food too! Yeah, he got pretty excited about the idea of you being strong

❥ Still, he would tell you that you dont need to fight all the time since he is there for you and would remark it if you start whining of your outfit getting messy

୨୧ - Kyotaro Sugishita

❥ He thought for a moment you were showing up later as a revenge because last time he accidentally overslept for five minutes, but still decided to look out for you just in case he was wrong

❥ When he found you after beating some guys up?? he was stressed and mad. Not at you— of course, but at those guys! such scumbags making stressful situations for nothing.

❥ Sugishita is still learning about all this couple thingy, but atleast he goes to ask if youre ok and tries to reassure you giving a weird squeeze to your shoulder— its a start!

❥ He doesnt directly mention that your hair got a little messy on the fight, in his eyes youre still pretty so no need to mention it. But, if you bring it to the conversation— he'll probably find a way to fix it and give you a cute hairstyle, Tsubakino always gives nice tips to him about it!

❥ Probably bringed you a handmade gift from his grandma since she's supportive ofc but got a little scrunched up when he was walking faster than usual to find you...

[melancholymetropolis]

Hey :) I was just wondering if you’ll be continuing the Stack x black reader fic. Your writing is immaculate by the way. I understand if you’re unable to as you might be busy.

“As you wish, sweetheart," Bill replied with a kiss.

I let myself melt into his embrace. Blindly, I followed his gentle guidance to our bed. The back of my knees hit the plush duvet, and I slowly lowered my rear upon it. It was then that Bill broke our kiss. He dropped to his knees without a second thought. His hands were pushing the nightie up my legs before I could blink. He placed hot kisses on my bare thighs earning moans from me.

One strong hand was placed on stomach, Bill pushed my body towards the bed until my back was flat against it. 

"Just relax, baby," he says, dragging his tongue over my covered folds. "I got you."

No matter how long we've been together, or how many times he puts his head between my legs, William will always reassure me. Always tell me that he has me. He'll keep me safe. He'll make me feel real good. Bill doesn't need to say this, his actions speaks for themselves. It feels good that he does, though. Showed me that my safety was his first priority. My vulnerability was protected. His love was a divine shield. 

I could always count on him, even in the pits of hell. William Chow will be by my side. A self appointed guardian.

His tongue dragged across the covered damp folds, before his nose pressed against the seat of my panties. Bill inhaled deeply, kneading my thighs tenderly. "How much do you want me, baby?"

"So much, my love," I purred, adjusting my position so I'm resting on my elbows. "Are you gonna make me feel good?"

"Of course, darling," he replied, moving my damp panties to the side. "I'm gonna make you scream."

His soft lips found my pearl instantly and gave it a gentle suck. My legs twitched and my breath hitched. Bill releases the bud. His hot tongue slithers down my slit until the bunched up underwear. Groaning in frustration, he lifted his head from my warm center and took hold of the underwear. I lifted my hips from the bed and allowed him to yank the fabric down my legs. His mouth was back on my heat before I could blink. Lapping and licking in feverish succession.

My back started to arch from the mattress as his fingers found my entrance. They sunk in the leaky crevice slowly. A throaty moan poured from me as they immediately hooked upward. My fingers gripped the bedsheets fiercely, as my toes curled upon his back. My mouth released hot short breaths as the pressure took over every fiber of my being. 

"Baby, please. . . please," the words left my lips before I consciously knew what I said. 

I had no idea what I was begging for and why. Please don't stop? Please keep going? Bill didn't need me to remind him of my needs. He anticipated them. He knew my body just as well as I did. Knew when to drive me wild. When to keep me wanting more. Or, when to give me everything in quick succession. Surrendering it all to me before any second thoughts. It had been one of those nights. The need to burn off the Stack debacle so great it had to happen quickly. Our passion is like gasoline on an abandoned fire. We needed to show each other just how much we loved one another. How active and ferocious that love was. No one could come between us, not even a past lover. 

He had nothing on my husband.

The climax fell upon me like a bucket of water. Shocking and intense. My eyes squeezed shut as my grip on the sheets intensified as the wave of pleasure drove me over. My hips bucked against his lips as hot pants left my lips. 

“Oh God. . . Bill,” I slurred, tossing my head to the side. “Don’t stop. . .”

And he didn’t. The pleasure was intense, but soothing. It was consistent and relentless. Just like my husband. 

After the second wave spilled from me, Bill started kissing up my curly mound and plush stomach. He lifted the nightgown up along the way. Once he reached my breasts, Bill sucked in a breath. He stared at them, still covered in satin. He licked his lips, wanting nothing other than to have them in his mouth.  I lifted my back from the bed and continued to raise the dress over my head. His mouth was back on me the moment I tossed the dress to the side. The searing kiss on my lips was almost startling— his need was stronger than I’d ever seen it. My hands blindly reached for his waistband. I could feel the firmness of his member and it gave me shivers all over. 

William Chow was big.

Almost as long as a standard ruler with a decent amount of girth. 

I always cursed the gods for giving him the condition. It was almost like they were taunting me. Dangling the beautifully curved, veined shaft in my face. Knowing that I will not be able to enjoy it completely. Knowing I couldn’t do every filthy thing that crossed my mind the moment I first saw it. Couldn’t ride it like a stallion, in fear that I might break my husband further. I couldn’t suck on it like a lollipop, since it would take too much effort to get my desired result. Couldn’t stick it between my breasts and lick the tip. Couldn’t tie him up and palm it until he spilled. Couldn’t have Bill bend me over the counter and fuck me like the world was ending. Couldn’t take every inch of him and utter “I love you” while looking into his eyes. 

Bill pulled back just a little bit to shove his pants off, exposing the glistening glory. He was harder than I had ever seen. Veins pulsing on the side. Slit oozing and red. He looked absolutely delectable. I ran my eyes over his member again and noticed something. . . different. His heavy balls were not hanging freely as they usually were— they were lifted. A subtle glint caught my eye the closer I looked at the abnormality. 

“What did you. . . ?” I trailed off, raising my eyes to meet his. 

“I found a book about ancient pleasure methods recently and had a leather smith fashion me something called a ‘cock ring’,” Bill replied, climbing on the bed. Massive body hovering over my plump one. ���It is supposed to help erections last for upward of an hour, depending on how tight it is.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” I said with a worried expression on my face.

Bill’s face softens at my words. A mixture of adoration and sadness sank into his brown eyes. The realization that my love was far greater than my need for erotic pleasure made his heartache. My husband leans forward and takes my chin between his fingers. He looked into my eyes with such heavy lust that I almost forgot where we were. 

“I tested it a few times this week,” he purred, pressing kisses to my face. “And it works like a charm.”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and blinked slowly. “Does is . . . hurt at all?”

“Nope,” he replied, lips hovering over mine. “It feels fucking amazing.”

The following liplock was breathtaking. His tongue pushed into my mouth, just as he rested body between my legs. His pelvis was perfectly lined up with my warmth. Bill rolled his hips as his tongue explored my mouth intimately. The feel of his hard member against my womanhood was slowly driving me insane. To feel its capabilities after years of oral and finger play was a relief. A goddamn blessing. The need to be filled by him was growing by the second and my legs opened wider to accept more of his body. 

My back was flat against the mattress and my legs were in the air before I realized what was happening. Bill had positioned the head of his member to my heat and started to push into me. I sucked in a breath and held it. Inch by glorious inch I took his cock into my dampened center. Moaning and groaning at the beautiful stretch. My husband watched his disappearing cock in utter disbelief. We had never made it this far. He was never hard long enough for him to fill me completely. That night was the first night I took all of him and it took a little while to adjust. But, Bill was happy to wait as long as I needed. Like the saint he was.

He started to gently rock against me. His movements were hesitant and delayed. It was almost as if he were waiting for his cock to soften at any given moment. When it hadn’t, after two minutes of straight humping, Bill’s focus turned to me. He took both my wrists in his palm and pinned them above my head. He hooked his arm under my thigh and widened my legs a little more. Pushing himself deeper into me. The assertive nature was a surprise since he was usually a love-sick puppy in bed. I was the one in charge most days, as he always prioritized my comfort. However, with the improvement of his equipment, it seemed the roles were beginning to reverse. I wasn’t upset about it, quite the opposite.

Gradually, the hesitant thrusts increased in speed and power. The headboard was probably gonna leave a dent with how hard it was hitting the wall. My lower half was glued to the mattress as my breasts bounced against my chest. My eyes were tightly shut and my head tossed to the side. The moans leaving my body were one of an animal. They were brutal, hoarse, and downright unsexy to my ears. But, they meant the world to Bill. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Without a word, Bill raised my legs higher. Instead, of being settled at his sides, he lifted my knees from the bed and pressed them into the mattress. Spreading me wide open in the process, which pushed his cock even deeper inside of me. The same force was returned along with the speed. I felt my toes curl begin to on their own and my moans grew quieter. The pleasure was so good, that I couldn’t bring myself to vocalize it. I didn’t have the energy. I could feel my pulse around him, and my walls grew slicker. My eyes rolled back as I gripped the sheets harder— effectively ripping them from the bed. 

“There we go,” Bill cooed. “That’s the face I was looking for. Are you gonna come me, darling?”

“Yes. . .” I moaned softly. “I’m so close, baby.”

The pristine movements of his hips began to falter and his breath slowly became jagged. He was close as well, but I knew he wouldn’t vocalize it. He wanted me to enjoy every second of this moment. It was the first time we had physically ever been this close and it made my heart sing. It almost felt like our Honeymoon night, when we both had something to prove. For me, it was gratitude and affection. For Bill, it was the dedication to our little family. 

But, that wasn’t the first time he proved his worth to me.

Madeline had been six months at the time, and I was still in the throws of grief from my past relationship with Stack. She was looking more and more like him every day. Then, add the letters and flowers that kept arriving at my door every few weeks from him. I couldn’t read them, I knew they would make me feel even worse. But, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to burn them. Bill was a saint during that period of my life. He, practically, moved into my small house back then. Visiting every day before heading to work and every night before heading home. He always made sure that I bathed and ate. Practically spoon-feeding me oatmeal and stuffing bread in my mouth. He would change Madeline’s diapers and wash the soiled ones while I rested. Hang them out to dry overnight and fold them up in the morning. At that point, he was just Uncle Billy, the name gave himself. 

He became Daddy when Madeline had a fever. The weather had left the house cold some nights, and we had run out of firewood. Seven-month-old Maddy had started to burn up and I couldn’t handle it. I tried everything from cool rags on her forehead to spoons of broth throughout the day. Her temperature would not go down. I knew I couldn’t go to Annie— the sight of a sick baby would be too much for her. Just when I was about to pack Maddy in a basket and run into town, Bill came stumbling in. He had bags of lemons, ginger, rosemary and potatoes. Bill cut the potato into small cubes and placed them on her feet with socks. Then, he brewed some herbs with his items. He fed the tea to Maddy and changed her head clothe routinely. Within the hour, her temperature went down and she was sleeping soundlessly. 

I had asked him why he came back so early and how he knew what to do. 

He had gone to Annie for me.

I felt like you needed us with you.

We were married the following month. 

The orgasm washed over the both of us like a wave. Drenching us completely in its essence. I could feel Bill’s hips pause and twitch against my lower half. His member was throbbing within my snug walls as his release filled me. 

“Fuck. . . yes. . . . Take all of it,” he growled, messily pumping into me. “Come on, sweetheart. Give Daddy another baby.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll give you twins,” I smirked. 

The smile that found Bill’s face almost split his face in two. “Is that a promise?”

---------------------------------------

a/n: before you jump me, just know that I was BUSY. Ya girl is working full-time and attends night school. I was burnt out, almost completely. but we're getting better. slow progress is still progress y'all.

so, this is a soft return.

as usually, let me know if you wannabe on the taglist. leave a comment/ask for what you would like to see in the future.

Part IV Masterlist

---------------------------------------

Taglist

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[pinkolve]

Paging Doctor Y/N ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Summary: You find Eddie getting beat up by a group of jocks, of course you have to come to the rescue and save him.

Genre: Fluff, angst for like two seconds

CW: Fem!reader, reader carries a purse, reader has an unusual amount of things in said purse, second person point of view, mentions of fighting, blood, bruises, swearing, use of a taser, inaccurate descriptions of weed, (I don't smoke enough to know what the fuck I'm talking about), violence, reader drives a pickup truck, reader is a total bad ass because why not?, and I really hope that's it! Let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1,095

A/N: My first time writing in a second person pov, I think it's much better this way, let me know what you think! I might start writing all future fics this way. (I also write the words 'purse' and 'bag' far too many times in this, my deepest apologies.)

You walk out of Hawkins High, the cool night air nipping your skin. You wrap your jacket further around yourself as the door clicks shut behind you.

“Fucking freak!” A voice yells from next to you. You turn your head but see nothing, but there are grunts and groans emanating from somewhere. You peek around the corner, finding a group of jocks beating up another, skinnier boy.

“Let go.” He tries to fight back but a harsh punch lands in his gut. You quickly reach in your purse, grabbing hold of the light pink taser. You keep your hand in your purse, grip firm.

“Hey.” You round the corner, putting yourself in their line of sight. “Let him go.” You don’t look at the boy, just the jocks, standing your ground. You needed to show them you weren’t afraid, leave them powerless.

“Just mind your business.” He turns to punch the boy again.

“Now!” You yell louder this time. He turns back to you, eyes wide, and a vein popping in his forehead.

“Yeah,” He lets go of the guys shirt, making him lose his balance. He walks towards you creepily, until he’s close enough to touch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He smirks, not realizing what a mistake he’s made. You quickly pull the taser from your purse and stick it to his stomach, turning it on and shocking him. He blubbers and shakes before you turn it off, making him fall to his knees.

“Hey!” One of the other jocks marches up to you, ready to defend his friend’s honor. When he’s close enough his fist pulls back. You grab it before it can hit you, moving to the side and tasing him in the neck. You pull his arm forward, making him fall to the ground.

“Anyone else want some?” You ask venomously, waving your taser in the air. The rest of the group runs over to grab their friends, dragging them away. You shake your head as you watch them scamper off. “Pussies.” You spit, before finally turning to the poor guy they were torturing. He looks up at you as he leans his back against the brick wall, needing the stability.

“Eddie?!” You yell, shoving the taser back in your purse as you run to his side. “I didn’t realize it was you! I’m so sorry, are you okay?!” You run your hands all over him, eyeing him down for any wounds that need urgent tending to.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” You look back up at his face, unconvinced. That’s when you notice a small, deep gash on his cheek.

“You have a cut right there, you aren’t fine.” You state, grabbing his forearm and pulling him along. You lead him to your beat up truck.

“It’s not a big deal!” He tries to laugh it off. You push him to sit on the cargo bed, throwing your bag next to him before you rummage through it.

“It is to me, now shut up so I can patch it up.” You say simply, pulling a first aid kit from your purse.

“You just have that in your purse?” Eddie speaks up, eyebrows furrowed. He moves to look inside, curious to find out what else you could possibly have in there.

“I have almost everything you could ever need. That’s why it’s so big, I pack it full of shit. I like to be prepared, and this whole situation proves it comes in handy.” You smile, pulling a small, travel size bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the kit.

“Got any weed in there?” Eddie laughs, expecting the answer to be ‘no’. You reach in and pull out a small metal tin with pre-rolled blunts. “Holy shit!” He grabs one and looks up at you, making sure it’s okay if he takes one. You set the tin down and grab a lighter, handing it to him, giving him wordless permission.

“My hero.” He sighs as he puffs out a cloud of smoke.

“Yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m gonna clean the cut now, it’s gonna sting.” You push the cotton pad to his cheek, making him hiss. You pull it down and away, wiping any blood off. “Sorry.” Your voice is soft and sincere. You grab some neosporin and place a glob on his cut, before sticking a small bandage over it. “Good as new.” You grin wide, admiring your handiwork. You reach in your bag once again, and pull out a cherry lollipop. Eddie’s eyes widen like little kid’s.

“Holy shit, candy too!?” He snatches it from you greedily.

“For being a good patient.” You giggle, packing up your things and throwing them back in your purse.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I owe you one.” He hops down from the truck and stands in front of you.

“Why’d they gang up on you anyways?” You ask, turning back to face him after throwing your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m not even really sure.” He laughs. “It doesn’t matter.” He waves you off.

“It does matter, Eddie.” You scowl at him, making his smile fade. “Stop acting like this is no big deal, because it is!” Your voice is raising slightly.

“Woah, woah, okay!” He raises his hands in surrender. He drops the blunt and puts it out with his boot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me! It’s all these fucking assholes who think it’s okay to beat you up, just because they want to!” Your hands flail around a little, anger rising inside you.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

“I do worry about you!” You almost scream. “I always worry about you, how could I not?! The guy I love is getting beaten and bruised just for existing! It makes my blood fucking boil!” You go quiet, anger still present. You look back up at Eddie when he doesn’t say anything, his face ghostly pale. “What?” You ask softly. He swallows.

“You uh…You said you ‘love me.’” He swallows again, the lump in his throat still remaining. You still, body freezing in place.

“I, well…I mean I don’t, well I do, but I didn’t-”

“Did you mean it?” He cuts you off quickly. You look at him with confusion.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Eds.” You whisper. Before you can say anything else, or even move, his lips are on yours. You let out a soft squeak of surprise before kissing him back. He pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips.

“I love you too.”

[photmath]

Blue Scribbles | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Female Reader

Summary: Trent and you have always bumped heads, but after seeing him kiss a girl, you begin to feel something you shouldn't.

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, little angst reader is drunk briefly, jerkface Trent, vomitting, loose-editing

Note: Not my best work but might as well free up space in my wips. Just a whole lot of nothing but Dominik cameos, sorrry.

“Trent, are you bringing anyone to the party?” Harvey asks, flipping through his notepad to jot down the number of guests.

Trent nods his head mindlessly, head still tucked down as he scrolls through his phone, “Yeah, just put down two.”

“Girls?” Dominik blurts. “Gonna have them meet at the same time?”

Trent looks up at his friend, a smug expression unfolding on his lips as he looks at the rest of the group. All six pairs of eyes await his answer. His eyes circle back to you, his smirk growing wider, “Something like that.”

You dart your eyes away. You don’t care who Trent brings to the party, it just bothered you that after looking at the entire group of six at the table, he stopped and stared at you to confirm his number of guests. It shouldn’t have made you feel anything, but it left you feeling bitter.

Harvey nudges your elbow, “And what about you?”

“Just me,” you murmur. Trent snorts from across the table and you look up at him, he sends you back a wink. “Say what you have to say.”

He shrugs, placing his phone face down on the table, “Nothin.’”

“Don’t start,” Veronica rubs her temple.

“Are you going to tell those two girls, who by the way, are bestfriends, that you’re fucking the both of them?” you remark, ignoring Veronica’s plea. The rest of the group groans, Jude gasping.

“You’re doing what?” His eyebrows wide.

Trent clenches his jaw, the smug expression he wore moments ago disappearing, “I’m not fucking either.”

“Yeah right,” you huff, closing your laptop and slipping it into your bag.

“Where are you going,” Tara sits up, grabbing a hold of your wrist.

“I’m going home.”

“It’s dark out, you can’t walk alone.”

“It’s not that late,” you reply, throwing your backpack over your shoulder. The sun had already set and the apartment was not that far away, although sure, it would’ve been safer to walk with someone.

You don’t notice Trent trailing behind you until the door swings open, him scurrying behind you, “Did you really have to say that so loud?”

“It’s not like we all didn’t know.”

Jude not knowing was his own fault, he was too airheaded at times to remember gossip.

He grabs a hold of your wrist and you spin around to face him. He shoves his hands into his black hoodie, “I’m not having sex with either of them.”

You shut your eyes close, “I don't need to know that.”

“Yeah, well you talk like you know everything,” he exasperates.

Huffing, you pull your jacket tighter to your chest, “Okay, fine. You aren’t fucking either of them.”

Trent purses his lips, “I’ll walk with you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, come on,” he walks past you, bumping into your shoulder.

Trent is not someone who you consider yourself close to. He was a part of the friend group, but he was also your academic rival. The two of you bumped heads constantly in class, always on opposite sides in debate, and fighting over the better grade in biology. No amount of “forced-bonding”—as Veronica described it—stopped the bickering. Since you met him four years ago, nothing has changed and that didn't seem to be changing soon either.

Trent suddenly shuffles around in his backpack, tsking to himself as he looks back at you, “Do you have a pen I could borrow? We have that paper due tomorrow and you know, we have to write it out.”

You roll your eyes, swinging your bag around to your chest. You’re careful to make sure you don’t slip off the sidewalk but Trent stays close to the side closest to the road, him bumping into your shoulder to move you further away.

“Sorry,” you mutter, unzipping the small pouch. The only available pen you have is a brand new blue Pilot G2 pen, one that you got from the library. You sigh, “Here.”

“Thanks,” he takes it and threads it into the space between the tip of his ear and head. His locs fall on top of it.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, only helping him because he was walking you home—but he lived in the apartment next to yours. No surprise there.

“Have you already finished your paper?” He asks, turning back to you. A cloud of condensation blows in your direction.

“Yep.”

He nods, “You had what? Romanticism?”

“Uh-huh.”

He chuckles, “What’s got you so upset? I just saw you earlier and you were fine. And then the stunt you pulled in the library? What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m good,” you stare ahead, the apartment finally coming into view.

He bumps into your shoulder again, this time with more force, “Why are you being such an ass?”

You stop abruptly, attempting to grab your pen back but he just weaves away. “Am I supposed to thank you for walking me home?”

Trent smiles but not genuine, his tongue licking across his lips, “I try to be nice even after you’ve said something about me twice.”

“You live there too!” you scoff, and then turn back to the apartment. Scanning the key fob, the staircase doors open and Trent follows closely behind you.

“I was trying to make small talk with you,” he says calmly, rephrasing his words as if it will prolong the conversation.

“Don’t. We don’t do small talk.”

“Your mood changed so fast, sorry for trying to make sure you were okay,” he relents.

You halt, turning around and looking down at him, “Don’t act like you care about me.”

He gapes, “You’re my friend, of course I care.”

“Friends? We aren’t friends, Trent.”

“Why not?” he looks taken aback, his hand clutching onto the rail. His knuckles turn whiter the longer you take to respond.

“Because you ruined my presentation!”

“That happened months ago.”

“That was an asshole move and you know it, don’t be dense. I worked on it for an entire month and you fucked it all up, for what? A five minute laugh? You cost me my grade,” you cross your arms, feeling yourself grow hot as rage seeps through you. “I would’ve never done that shit to you. Why do you think I’ve kept my distance from you? All I want to do is punch your stupid face.”

Trent huffs, “Then do it, if that’s going to stop making you feel upset.”

You blow out a breath, “You don’t get it.”

“Then tell me.”

“I was this close to getting an A,” you pinch your fingers together, displaying the small gap you needed to bump your B to an A. All you needed was a superb presentation and you would've gotten it, but here comes Trent, infiltrating your hard drive and changing your entire presentation to Latin. Luckily, you had memorized and practiced what you wrote and was able to present it that way, the PowerPoint just a mere background. But it wasn’t enough to change your grade to an A.

You exhale slowly again, “And then you changed my presentation and I got a bad grade on it. Long nights worth of researching, gone.”

Trent glances around the stairs, biting down onto his bottom lip, “I’m sorry.”

“Too late,” you purse your lips. “It doesn’t matter now.” You turn around and head up the stairs. Trent lagged behind but then eventually caught up to your pace. You held the door open for him begrudgingly, him walking past you without a glance. His hands stuffed into his pockets as he walked down the corridor to your and his apartments.

He shuffles around in his pocket for his keys and then opens his door, slamming it closed and you furrow your eyebrows at his attitude. You slam your door back, not caring that it rattles the apartment.

-

Trent is a couple of minutes late to class, your professor going on about your papers needing to be passed down to the ends of the rows so that she could pick them up.

And for whatever reason, your eyes latch onto Trent’s appearance once he strolls into class. A black beanie covers his head as he climbs up the stairs, his backpack on one shoulder, and the black leather jacket he has on makes your eyebrow rise. Was it new?

As he passes by your seat, the scent of his usual laundry detergent is replaced with an unfamiliar cologne. You let out a cough, him glancing in your direction but then turning away as he sits down. His eyes look a lot more hooded than usual, and the sudden emergence of eye bags.

Two seats separate the two of you but the space is so small that it’s almost an arm’s length of distance in reality. You had missed the first day of class, not realizing the seat you chose the second day of class was next to Trent, neither of you daring to move away.

He takes out his paper quickly, passing it in your direction and the ink—it’s black? You give him a dubious look as you pass it to the person sitting beside you.

“Where’s my pen?”

“I lost it,” he mumbles.

“Are you serious?”

He nods, never looking at you as he props up his iPad, “Very.”

“Dickhead,” you whisper. You’d have to grab another pen. You had multiple colored pens, but nothing compared to the slick roll of a Pilot G2 pen. It was a good pen.

Class goes by without another peep from Trent, until the professor tells you you’ll be assigned a partner and topic for the next research paper. You hold your breath as you search through the class’s website to find your partner, and the universe always works against your favor:

Trent Alexander-Arnold. Darwinism.

Trent slams his iPad case closed, seemingly just reading the same list you did and you groan. The paper was due in a week.

“We can meet up later this week,” you suggest.

“I have to get to class,” he says, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking away.

You sigh, gathering your things and then following Trent. He is already at the end of the row when you notice a blue tab sticking out of the small pouch of his backpack. Your pen!

You pick up your pace, grumbling at your peers as they stop you from catching up to him. They crowd the stairs and take their time going down them, you attempting to maneuver through them but it’s no use. Once you exit, you stand on your tippy toes and catch the tip of his black beanie. As you beeline towards him, he turns the corner and once you round it, you stop dead in your tracks.

He’s grinning as he wraps his arm over a girl’s shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss on her lips. It isn’t a quick kiss, it’s a deep one, his fingers coming up to her cheek to draw her in deeper. Something tumbles in your stomach, making you lean against the wall for support. You turn away, feeling like you’ve invaded his privacy and you really shouldn’t have seen that. You swallow the bile in your throat and head to the library.

Dominik is the first one you see in the study room, his head perking up as he spots you, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you exasperate.

His eyebrows pinch, “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “Just motivating myself for Harvey’s party tonight.”

He chuckles, “He says it should be lowkey, just us.”

And whoever Trent is planning on inviting.

You gulp, “Mm-hmm.”

“You look like you’re going to puke,” he says, putting down his iPad and standing up. He grabs the bin and pushes it near you.

Before you can thank him or push it away, Trent walks in. And that’s it, you bend down and hurl into the bin.

“Oh my god,” Dominik yelps. “Maybe you shouldn’t go to the party tonight.”

Trent doesn’t say a word as he sits down, you take the napkin Dominik pulled out of his bag. You wipe your face, feeling flushed and dizzy.

“I’m going to go home.”

“Do you want me to walk you?” Dominik asks.

“Uh—”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Trent says, slouching down in his seat as he types on his phone. You glance at him and notice the tips of his fingers are stained blue. You don’t question it as you get up to leave.

You can’t keep a secret. It was your biggest weakness, always making you physically ill. Trent was kissing one of those girl’s, her bestfriend oblivious that they were both going for the same guy. You had to either tell her or somehow forget about it.

Dominik huffs, closing his iPad and grabbing your backpack. He swings it over his shoulder and ushers you out of the room. Once the door closes, you blurt, “Trent was kissing her.”

“What?�� Dominik asks.

“He kissed her. Her bestfriend has no idea.”

“Her bestfriend?”

“They’re both going for Trent!” You turn towards him and he’s blatantly confused, his lips part open.

“Okay, so what?”

“One of them is bound to get hurt.”

“Maybe they know,” Dominik sighs. “It’s not our business.”

“But tonight, he’s bringing them both.”

He walks you into the lift, “And? Trent can handle his own business. If he’s going for a pair of bestfriends, let him.”

“I’m breaking girl code,” you murmur, letting your head fall dramatically against the lift’s walls.

Dominik rolls his eyes, “You don’t even know them.”

“But I know it’s happening.”

Dominik sighs, letting the conversation die out. He walks you back to your apartment, making sure you eat something before he goes next door to his own bedroom.

-

Tara has you out of the apartment before you can even protest. Dominik’s already too buzzed to tell you to go back home, instead he’s pouring you a shot glass. Even though you know alcohol wouldn’t calm your nerves down, you down it anyway. It burns your throat that you turn away from the island, accidentally bumping into someone.

Looking up, Trent wears a weary smile as he looks down at you. His beanie is long gone, but so are his locs. Instead his hair is cut short, super short that you blink repeatedly at it, just to make sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you.

Before you can say something, he looks away and walks past you. You don’t realize his arm is clutching onto someone else, the girl from earlier following closely behind him.

Dominik coughs and you face him, he shakes his head rapidly. His cheeks flush red as he starts choking.

“Jesus, Domi.”

“What?” he rasps, bending down to catch his breath. You rub his back as your gaze finds Trent. Trent brings a brown bottle of beer to his lips, his gaze flickering up at you. “You aren’t the only one who lost a boyfriend today.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend to lose—wait what?” you pick up Dominik by his shoulder. His eyes are brimmed red, his cheeks still beet red. “What happened with you and Ibou?”

He shrugs, “He said he wants a break.”

“What?”

He looks down at his shot glasses, pouring another round of whiskey into them, “And it makes sense why you threw up, you like Trent.”

“No I don’t,” you deny, your eyes finding Trent again, hoping he couldn’t hear Dominik. Trent is too submersed into conversation to notice.

He nods, handing you the glass, “Don’t deny it, it’s obvious the more I realize it. Always has been.”

He can’t be right. Whatever chance Trent had was ruined the day he messed up your presentation. He made you sob in the girls’ restroom, there was no way you could have a crush on him.

But your stomach tumbling earlier today. The burn of your neck and cheeks. And the way your chest caved in so deep that it felt like you were choking—no.

It didn’t help that Dominik had known you so well. He was the first friend you made on campus and he had always had a knack for reading you. He ended up meeting Trent through his football team, but you had already known of Trent.

“See,” Dominik murmurs, pointing out the horror etched across your face. “He’s cute, he’s just an asshole.”

“No, Dominik, you’re wrong.”

He purses his lips, face growing somber, “I wish I was, just so I didn’t have to see the disappointment on your face. Let’s just forget about it. Ibou is supposed to come and I don’t know…I might escape to your apartment to be honest.”

“Go for it,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from Trent and tilting your head back as you gulp down the shot. Dominik is quick to pour another, and Jesus, how many were you and him going to have back to back?

Once the both of you drink the third shot, you take the bottle away from his tight grip. The party had barely got rowdy thirty minutes ago and you had maybe fifteen minutes before you couldn’t see straight. Drinking with Dominik was never a smart idea and you were going to regret it soon.

Tara drags you and Dominik away from the island to the beer pong table. Trent stands behind you, the girl—and her bestfriend—beside him. Dominik hums in your ear, before grabbing a cup and drinking the beer.

“Dominik!” Jude yells and Dominik apologizes, a sloppy grin forming.

“You two drink too much already?” Trent butts his head between the two of you, Dominik murmuring in Hungarian as he gets startled—or annoyed—with Trent’s voice.

You look away, crossing your arms as Tara and Veronica start the round of beer pong.

Trent’s presence behind you makes you feel hot, as if you can feel his breath on your exposed shoulder. And when you miss your first shot, he doesn’t let his presence go unnoticed, “You can’t be that drunk already.”

“Shut up,” you slur, jabbing him in his rib with your elbow. The white tee he wears hugs his biceps tight that you get distracted momentarily before Dominik pulls you back to your senses. He tosses the next ball and it lands in a cup.

As the game continues, Tara and Veronica don’t let up, making you and Dominik drink more cups of beer. Your head was already spinning, incoherent words flying past your lips as you tried to distract Tara and Veronica.

Once you two lose, Dominik sits down on the couch and you groan, finding yourself in the kitchen and searching through their fridge for a bottle of water.

“What are you looking for?” Trent asks behind you, his arms folded.

“Why do you have so many eggs?” your brows furrow as you stare at the drawer filled with eggs.

“Do you need water?”

“Yeah,” you stand up, feeling the weight of the world around your head, and then you bump your head against the top of the fridge. Before you can tumble, Trent wraps his arms around your waist.

“Okay, let’s sit you down, yeah?” He ushers you to a chair and you groan, your head pounding from the sudden hit. The wave of pain seemed to only exacerbate your nausea. Your cheeks feel hot as you close your eyes to make the room stop spinning.

Trent uncaps the water and taps your elbow. You hold your hand out, “Hold on.”

“Do you need to throw up?”

“Just shut up.”

He sighs, “C’mon.” He bends down to hoist you up from your waist, ushering you into their guest restroom that was a few steps away. He locks the door and leans you against the wall. He leans against the door, watching you carefully.

“Ibou and Dominik broke up,” you slur. Here go you spilling secrets that weren’t yours to tell. “Fuck you weren’t supposed to know that.”

He nods, “It’s okay, I already knew.”

Thank God.

“And I saw you kissing that girl—ugh—what was her name, Clare? Clarissa?”

He furrows his eyebrows, crossing his arms. Your eyes selfishly land on his bulging biceps. He coughs, “Anything else you want to spit out?”

“I know you have my blue pen. And I’m really fucking drunk right now.”

Trent fights off a chuckle, it was a sight to see you flushed from alcohol. You rarely get super drunk and this seems to be the night you are going to—or already were. Your eyes are more hooded than usual, hair a bit out of place, and your face is sticky.

“Yeah, you are really drunk,” he chuckles.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny,” you groan. “My head, it feels so heavy and then the fucking fridge—”

Trent bursts into another loud laugh, “I’m sorry, it’s just, I haven’t seen you like this since last year.”

“I didn’t plan on it, Dominik kept pouring shots and then we sucked at beer pong.”

Trent shakes his head, “No, you sucked. He was pretty good.”

“I sucked,” you throw your hands up in surrender but it only makes you feel more unbalanced that you wobble.

Trent reaches out for you, “Woah.”

He brings his head away from yours, his lips shiny with saliva as he peers down at you. Your hands are clutching onto his arms to regain your balance and god when did his arms feel so strong? And those eyelashes, were they always this long?

“You okay?” he whispers. His voice is so soft that it makes you close your eyes, you wanting to desperately lean forward against him to settle the spins.

You are too drunk for this. Instead, you fall back onto the wall and try to stand against it as straight as possible.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He lets go of you and hands you the water bottle, “Drink up.”

Bile teases along your throat that it hurts swallowing but you continue on, feeling the bottle crush beneath your grip. Trent watching you gulp down the water doesn’t make the room any less stuffy or hot.

“You’re drunk,” he repeats, “so you won’t remember any of this in the morning?”

You let out a dry chuckle, “Probably not, to be honest. Being in a small restroom with you, god I hope not.”

Something flickers across Trent’s eyes but it’s gone within a heartbeat as he says coldly, “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to remember this either.”

“Why aren’t you with Clarissa and her bestfriend?”

“Because I’m here taking care of you being a sloppy drunk,” he spits.

“I can handle myself, I was doing just fine until you startled me and made me hit my head.”

Trent’s nostrils flare, his jaw clenching, “I don’t understand you.”

“Save your monologue, I won’t remember this and I really want to remember the way you look like you’re about to lose it,” you say monotonously, finishing the last bit of water.

Trent grits his teeth, “Can you stop being an ass for five minutes?”

“Timer starts now.”

“Why do Clarissa and Diane bother you so much?”

“Because they’re bestfriends, that’s cruel, Trent,” you say. “They have no idea you’re playing them both. I shouldn’t be surprised after you humiliated me in front of everyone in class, but that’s cruel. And you say you’re sorry but you’re doing the same thing.”

Trent’s eyebrows crease, “It’s none of your business.”

“It’s not, but you’re an awful person. And it just makes me look at you differently. If the presentation didn’t prove you to be the biggest jackass at this uni, that does.”

“What you think of me doesn’t matter to me.” Trent snarls, looking around the restroom but only faces the mirror, where he immediately darts his eyes away from his reflection. “You made it out to be that I was playing them both, I’m not.”

You gawk, “You were right, I am too drunk for this.” You step to leave the restroom but he stops you, your head bumping into his chest that you stumble back against the wall where you were. “So what, I’m wrong and you’re only going for Clarissa? You know what, you’re right again, it’s none of my business and I’m not about to sit here and try to get it right because I won’t remember this in the morning. I’ll still think of you the same.”

“I like you,” he blurts out.

“What?”

He looks…flushed? Shocked? His eyes wide and his lips part as if he can’t believe what he just said, “Nothing. I just wanted you to stop talking.”

Silence falls between the two of you as he scratches the nape of his neck. He chews on his bottom lip anxiously. You couldn’t have heard him right. Surely the alcohol was seeping deep into you that comprehending words was much more of a task than before.

“Why did you cut your hair?” you ask quietly. Your gaze shifts to his chest, it’s heaving rapidly.

He shrugs, “Just wanted a change.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

“Do you like it?” He glances at the mirror and pats the back of it down.

Instead of answering, your jumbled mind reads his expression. He’s looking away from you but he’s expecting an answer, looking shy. His hands are still patting misplaced curls back into place but nothing is out of place. He waits patiently for your answer, but didn’t he say that it didn’t matter what you thought of him?

“Didn’t even recognize you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. He looks at you and his eyes urge for you to continue. “I guess good, but then I recognized you and it became bad.”

His eyes look down briefly, “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you grumble, having heard those same words over and over again.

“I want to show you something in my bedroom.”

Your brows furrow, “I’m drunk, I’m not having sex with you.”

His mouth drops, “No! That’s not what I meant.”

“I would hope not,” you gag as the image of you two pops up in your head. “I don’t think I’d want to remember that anyway, good thing I wouldn’t.”

Trent’s flustered state doesn’t go away as he rambles, “I made you something.”

“If I go upstairs, you might have to carry me down.”

“Okay,” he shrugs, holding out his hand. “Come on.”

You hesitate, “Won’t your girls get mad?”

He rolls his eyes, “They aren’t my girls. Come on.”

You clasp your hand into his but the second he pulls you, you stumble into chest. He places his free hand on your waist and helps you out of the restroom.

Dominik stands with a drunken smile perched against the wall beside the restroom, “Oh, I’m glad you two worked out.” He sends you a wink before taking another swig of his drink.

You turn back to Trent, “Make sure he ends up in his bed tonight.”

“I know,” he nods, tapping your hip so that you can lead the way. Despite your few stumbles and the death stares from the pair of bestfriends, you make it to the staircase. Trent guides you upstairs with his hand pressed against your back.

Your head still felt like it was spinning but the bottle of water helped. You just needed some kind of bread, or crackers, something.

You turn back to Trent, he stops abruptly and bends down to your ear, “What?”

“Do you have food? Water and bread?”

“Bread?” He scrunches his eyebrows, his hand becoming more heavy on your back.

“It helps with alcohol.”

He blows a raspberry, “I’ll get it for you once we get to my room.”

“Okay, thank you.” You continue up the narrow stairs, cursing as you trip over a step. Trent hoists you up quickly, his hands never leaving your waist, even after your shirt lifted and he was now touching bare skin. His fingers stung, firm as they dug into you.

Once you reach his bedroom, you plop down on the floor and lean against his bed and bed frame. He leaves to get you bread and water and you peek around his room. Not much has changed since you had last been in it. There’s a couple of books piled on his nightstand, a hoodie loosely thrown over his desk chair, and a floor lamp lighting up the room.

You expect him to return with a bottle and maybe three slices of bread, but instead he returns with a six-pack of water bottles and an entire loaf of bread. You selfishly gawk at his biceps but then feel your eyes well up with tears.

“Are you crying?” he scowls, getting onto his knees and prying open the six-pack. He then unties the bread and faces it towards you.

“You brought me a whole loaf?” Your voice trembles as you tear a piece off and eat it. Your jaw wobbles as more tears spill out, a much harder cry than you expected.

“It’s just bread…” he mumbles, sitting next to you and hesitating to look at you. He rests his hands over his perched knees while you stuff your face with the bread. A small smile teeters against his lips.

“You’re so sweet.”

“You just said I was an awful person.”

“You do awful things,” you correct.

“Wouldn’t I still be awful then?”

You nod through tears, not wanting to debate the logistics of your drunk mind because you knew somehow you’d convince yourself to see him through rose-colored glasses. You’d circle back to him being a “sweet” guy because deep down you know he is, but sometimes he does things that you don’t understand—much less he.

He shuffles up to his feet, “Let me show you what I made.”

You shake his head, “Don’t. I won’t remember.”

Trent looks back at you, his piercing brown eyes growing more gentle as he looks back at you. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I want to,” you confess.

He swallows, his hand on the edge of his dresser, “You’d hate it if you were sober.”

“No I wouldn’t,” you say muffled, still chewing on bread. Being thirsty and hungry, this bread tasted like the best entree.

He nods persistently, “You’d get upset that I wasted your pen. Say something about it being a good pen, probably your last because you only ever have one pen on your person. And then you’d probably throw it at me.”

You chuckle, “That does sound like me.”

He doesn’t laugh, only purses his lips as he opens his top drawer. He pulls out two things, turning his back to you before sitting back down beside you with haste.

Your head still felt a bit heavy, but with you sitting and getting hydrated, it felt a lot better. Maybe you wouldn’t wake up in the morning with a throbbing headache, and maybe you barely missed your limit before blacking out and remembering nothing.

“Here,” he says sheepishly. He pulls out a papered flower, the petals scribbled with blue ink. The flower is so elaborate with layers of petals—it was a dahlia. It must have taken Trent hours to cut the pieces into the right shape and then scribble them all blue. You knew he had to color them blue afterward because of the way the scribbles lined up, all pointing to the apex of the petal.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, twisting the dahlia from its makeshift stem.

He pulls out what he hides from his waist, “I had to buy more blue pens, thought you’d want the extras.”

The blue pens are tied together with a white ribbon, a little bow in the center. They’re in a makeshift bouquet, baby’s-breath tucked in the gaps.

“Okay now I’m really about to cry and not because I’m drunk,” you say, setting down the dahlia and wiping away the tears that cascade.

Trent’s jaw drops, “You aren’t drunk?”

“I’m getting sober,” you sob. Somehow knowing Trent wanted to show you what he made you while you were drunk and couldn’t remember doesn’t quiet the ache in your chest. Why didn’t he want to show you while you were sober? Why didn’t he want you to remember? It would’ve helped the way you see him, not as the cold-hearted persona he puts out.

Trent stays quiet as his hands twirl around the bouquet of pens. You were going to remember everything in the morning.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you whisper through your cries.

Trent looks at you, his eyes frantic, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“You were kissing Clarissa after you made me this,” you pick up the dahlia. “Why would you do that to her? To me?”

He shakes his head, “It’s just a flower.”

“Trent, this is—elaborate. This is detailed. It’s beautiful, not something you can make within an hour. Is that why you were late to class? Why you looked so tired?”

He gulps down, “I had gotten a haircut, that took a couple of hours and then I still had to write the essay—”

“Why are you lying?” you look at him and he darts away. His jaw tenses as his hands tighten around his knees. “You didn’t write the paper yesterday. You already had it done before you asked me for the pen. You never wait until the last minute to do an assignment. You got a haircut and then you made this, tell me I’m wrong.”

A heavy exhale leaves his nose as he glances at you, “You’re right.”

As another sob escapes you, Trent’s breathing seems to become difficult. He shuffles his legs around until they’re outstretched in front of him.

You shake your head, “God I’m so fucking stupid. You are an awful person, and I should’ve never thought you were any different.”

Trent was going to bask you in gifts as if he wasn’t making out with an entire girl after giving you the cold shoulder the same day. He spent hours making and buying you something—and those pens weren’t cheap—just to screw around with someone else.

As you attempt to stand up, Trent grabs your wrist, “Wait, let me explain.”

“How do you explain that, Trent?” you ask, almost yelling. You snap your wrist out of his grip and gulp half a bottle of water.

“Just listen to me,” he stands up, pulling his shirt down. “I convinced myself it was stupid. You fucking hate me. Why would you forgive me after all that I’ve done to you? I wasted your pen and then bought you more to replace them when all you wanted was your pen. You didn’t want my flower or more pens, just like how you didn’t want my apologies after ruining your presentation. It was a joke gone too far and I get that, but I didn’t think it would hurt you. I didn’t know it would bring your grade down. I know you’re smart, I knew you’d know what to say, but fuck I didn’t know our professor was going to grade the PowerPoint so hard. I tried to tell him that I did it, but all he did was bring my grade down too, but I maintained my A. I care about you, I do, and I’m sorry for hurting you.”

You shake your head, even though you were getting sober his words were too much to digest especially when he spoke way too fast to keep you from leaving.

“Trent,” you rub your forehead. “Even if all that is true, that doesn’t explain Clarissa.”

He holds out his hand in front of you as if you are going to dash out his room. “I was distracting myself from hurting you. Yeah, I’m hurting her too. I’m not proud of it, but—I can’t hurt you more than what I already have.”

“Yeah,” you nod tiredly. “You fucked up really bad.”

You make your way to his door but he grabs a hold of your arm, physically pleading you to stay and listen to him. “Wait, okay, please—”

“You wanted to give me these when I wouldn’t remember. As if I wouldn’t realize it was from you?”

Trent nods, “I know you would’ve, but it would’ve been different with you confronting me. I could’ve lied and said it was from Dominik or something—”

“God, you and your lies,” you shake your head. “Just fucking stop. I’m not going to listen to you if you keep fucking lying, I’m done with this.”

“I said ‘could’ve,’” he says curtly. “I’m being honest. Fuck,” he rasps, pulling the ends of his curls as if he still has his locs. “I like you, stupidly and selfishly so. The only reason I went for Clarissa is because I know you don’t like me back and I’ve been trying to move on. But it’s hard when we’re in the same friend group, when I see you in class, and then get paired with you. It doesn’t help that Dominik is constantly in my ear talking about what a screw up I am because I’m not doing this right. But fuck, do you know how much it hurt for you to tell me we aren’t friends? That you don’t even see me as a friend? I made the dahlia as a gift to give to you as a friend but fuck—” He stops himself and runs his hands over his short curls.

He shakes his head, “I scrolled through your Insta and for the first time realized how I’m cropped out of your posts or barely there. Even before I ruined your presentation, you’ve always hated me. I thought we were bantering, I thought you knew I viewed you as my friend and me teasing you about grades was friendly fire. We’re both competitive, but I thought you knew I cared about you. I thought it was so obvious. After I scrolled through your Insta, I didn’t want to give you the dahlia or pens back. I thought it best to forget about it.”

You bite onto your tongue digesting his words. He has always been a rambler, especially when he was desperate and watching him nervously shift the weight of his body between his feet, the way he tugged his hair, or him constantly licking and biting his lip between pauses, it hurt seeing him like this. He wasn’t prepared to confess his feelings or his intentions, just spewing his thoughts without a blueprint. It was a mess.

He was a mess.

“Trent,” you sigh. “Do you want to talk it out or do you want us to just talk tomorrow morning? After we’ve both gotten rest.”

He scratches his face, “I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep after this.”

You sure wouldn’t either.

You nod, moving the hoodie from his desk chair to his desk before sitting in it. “Okay, then let’s talk. The only reason I cropped you out of my pictures is because you aren’t much of a social media person. You always seem reluctant to take photos, never really wanting to be in them, and posting you after you didn’t want to be in the photo in the first place seemed like I was throwing you under the bus.”

Trent looks down but the side of his lip curls up, “It’s okay to post me.”

“Okay,” your tired voice comes out as a whisper. “I know us competing in class was always friendly but you really messed up with ruining my presentation. I know you are sorry about it, I get it, it just made me view you differently. Not as my friend because friends don’t hurt each other, but obviously we aren’t strangers. I forgive you for my presentation and grade, there’s nothing we can do at this point and it makes me feel a little better that you tried to help me despite failing. So we’re friends, okay? Friends.”

You hold out your hand for Trent, he reluctantly grabs it and gives your hand a weak shake. His thumb strokes your knuckles before he lets go.

“I like you,” you admit. “I like you too, but you have a lot of redeeming to do because I’m not sure if I can ever get the image of you kissing Clarissa out of my head. And you have a lot to sort out with her.”

He nods, “Mm-hmm, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh.

Trent seems distraught enough. He didn't need any more of his wrongdoings pointed out. He understood the message, even if he had gone all about this wrong.

“I think we both need to stop assuming stuff for each other. Like me hating you. Hate is strong, Trent, maybe a strong dislike but that was before this conversation,” you chuckle. “And I shouldn’t have assumed you were messing with both Clarissa and Diane.”

He nods, standing upright against his dresser, “Okay. We’re good.”

-

The next morning, Tara, Veronica, and you head over to the boy’s apartment to help them clean. Dominik’s wearing sunglasses, his curls tousled as you sit down next to him on the couch.

He barely moves his head in your direction, “Morning.”

“It’s noon,” you chuckle.

“I threw up in Trent’s bathroom when he walked you next door,” he says. “He came back pissed.”

“Did you forget where your room was?” you laugh. Trent enters the livingroom, the mop in his hand as he sees the two of you settled on the couch. His lips simper as he places the mop into the sink and then sits down in the space next to you.

Dominik coughs, “No. I just wanted to be with you and him, but I didn’t realize you both left. And then it just came out.”

“You missed the loo, you idiot,” Trent replies.

Dominik waves his hand, “How was I supposed to know the lid was closed?”

Trent rolls his eyes, bumping into your shoulder, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you smile. He seems more lively than before, his teeth breaking through his lips as he smiles bashfully. His eyes scan your face and it makes your cheeks warm. You turn away, looking towards Dominik, “Well, it seems like you have a long day ahead.”

You tap on Dominik’s knee and he groans. You get up and look back at Trent, “Need help with anything?”

“Still cleaning my bathroom,” he stands up. The loose gray zip up he has on flaps open revealing his white shirt underneath.

You scrunch your nose, “You slept with his vomit on the floor?”

“He threw up a lot,” he groans, walking you up to his room. “I cleaned most of it but not a deep clean. And then forced him into his shower, but I had to stay with him because he kept crying about Ibou.”

“You’re such a nice friend,” you chuckle.

His eyes flicker away from you, “I’m not awful.”

“No, you aren’t,” you smile.

A moment of silence engulfs you both as you enter his bedroom, his sheets jostled around and his bathroom emitting cleaning fumes. You let out a cough, going to his window and propping it open.

He chuckles, “Yeah, I don’t think I was supposed to mix some of these.” As he points at the various bottles of cleaning supplies he’s opened, you let out a laugh. Your cheeks ache from smiling at his uncertain facial expression, as if he couldn’t have passed out from cleaning.

You glance down, “Oof, you are not.”

The two of you work in tandem quietly but also talk about various things. Trent even brings up the project the two of you were paired together for and hashes out the dates to work on it.

It was soothing to converse with him without feeling on edge as if he would say something to get under your skin. He wasn’t making any snarky remarks, only a few teasing words, but they were jokes, a goofy grin always following afterward.

“What?” you gasp.

He nods, he tosses a wipe into the bin, “You forced me into the restroom downstairs.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You were drunk,” he shrugs, a teasing smile teetering onto his lips. Last night wasn’t much of a blur, you remembered Trent and talking to him in his bedroom, but you didn’t remember how you got up there. The pen bouquet and dahlia were placed on your nightstand but you remembered him giving them to you.

You swipe at his chest, his jacket gone, “That’s such a lie.”

Trent bursts into a laugh, “You seriously don’t remember the restroom?”

“No, what did we kiss or something?” you quip but then palm your face. “Tell me we didn’t.”

He chuckles, “I think you wanted to.”

You laugh, feeling hot but not embarrassed, just nervous. Trent’s taunting gaze is unrelenting, the smile he hides by forcing his lips into a thin line. You chuckle, pushing his shoulder, “I don’t think so. I think I would’ve remembered you and Clarissa.”

Trent’s face simmers down as looks away, “I talked to her by the way. I apologized and told her the truth. She slapped me but—” you burst into a laugh while he rolls his eyes. “Don’t laugh, but yeah, I’m not going to be seeing her again—or Diane for that matter.”

“Good,” you nod. Even if he was doing it because he wanted to now focus on you after knowing you felt the same, it was good that he wasn’t going to be leading someone on when he didn’t feel the same for them.

“So,” he exhales, his chest bowing down as he looks at you, “can we hang out alone sometime? Doesn’t have to be anything big, maybe a walk around campus or coffee? I know I have a lot of making up to do with you, but I want us to be on the same page this time.”

You resist the urge to smile. Him taking care of Dominik last night stuck out to you the most. More than him bringing you water and bread to sober up. Dominik was too much of a heartbroken and vulnerable mess to handle himself, and after seeing just how much his vomit plastered on Trent’s walls, that was a big ask of him to deal with at three in the morning.

Trent was trying, flawed, but trying. You could work with that.

“Okay, we can grab coffee,” you smile. “But slow.”

He nods, “Okay.”

He breaks out into a smile as he pokes the broom against your shoulder. You let out a kiddish laugh, turning away from him to finish scrubbing the cabinets. Trent jabs your bent knee with his foot and you don’t catch yourself before you fall forward, your head hitting the cabinet.

“Oh shit,” he says, dropping down beside you and inspecting your forehead. Your head hitting the cabinet made the contact seem much more dramatic than what it really was, but Trent’s careful and concerned eyes only make you pretend it hurts more.

“Ow,” you feign, clutching the spot. He removes your hand gingerly, getting you to sit down on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m already fucking this up, am I?” He suddenly leans forward and kisses the spot on your forehead, swiping his kiss over the spot with his thumb.

Your chest shakes as you laugh silently, him looking at you confused. Your silent laugh can be mistaken with a cry but he groans.

“You’re fine, aren’t you?” He stands up and holds out his hand.

“You looked so scared,” you tease, taking his hand and standing up.

He rolls his eyes, “That was loud.”

“The door was open a little,” you laugh. Your hand reaches out to grab a hold of his, “Thank you for checking out my forehead with your lips.”

“Ugh,” he flusters.

You give his hand a squeeze, “Thank you, Trent. You can kiss my forehead again.”

“No,” he moans dramatically, his eyes stopping at the spot on your forehead and then he gasps, “Oh my god, it’s already swollen.”

You turn around to face the mirror so fast that it gives you whiplash. His shit-eating grin is the only thing you see, your forehead unmarked. You scowl when you turn back towards him, not realizing just how close he stood in front of you.

He chuckles, leaning forward and pressing his lips chastly on your forehead, “You craving coffee?”

----

Note: I'll write a proper academic rivals to lovers eventually. I just got lost within the plot, too delirious to make it make sense LOL. 🫠🫠

[hughiecampbelle]

Essential (Will Graham Oneshot)

Character/s: Will, Hannibal mention

Word Count: 1,507

Inspired By: Siren Song by Natalie Wilson (this is one of the most beautiful songs on my playlist)

Inspired By: Okay I will never shut up about this fic (Kendall Roy x Depression!Reader) by @chaithetics - I can't praise it enough. I adore it for so many reasons and I'm incredibly grateful to have read it 💕

A/N: Ahhh okay. So. Currently it's pouring out and the rain smells wonderful and I have a candle lit and my room is (mostly) clean - will be sorting that out lol. I haven't been feeling very well mentally recently. The holidays are always hard. My step-dad said some things and it really got to me. His judgement shouldn't matter at all, but it voiced every opinion I fear. It put all my insecurities on blast and I ended up sobbing to my therapist about it. I'm trying to focus on my goals, studying for the LSATs and getting everything ready to apply to law school. Trying to focus on the new year and all the possibilities it holds. It just hurt, y'know? And I thought writing would help, plus I love Will lol. Sorry for the rant!! Not my best work, but it feels good to get it out! Feedback is always appreciated!!! ❤🥩❤

*This is not part of the writing event, this is just a silly therapy fic. I will make a proper post about it, I pinky promise!*

The sun has set. Bright, twinkling stars poke holes in the cobalt sky. It’s your favorite version. The warm lights of houses splash outward through the windows. Some are muted by curtains. Others remain unobscured. Throwing itself across the snow, butter-yellow and bleeding. The snow falls in fat, robust flakes and you hear the wind howl, picking up the longer the night goes on. Downstairs the dogs bark and whine. Pawing at the door until it creaks open, they key sticking just a little. His voice carries through the house like music, song-like, in a key you cannot name, but love nonetheless. He laughs, telling them to be quick as they scatter in the yard. You count the heartbeats until they’re back inside. Safe. He sets down his bag, hanging his coat and shaking off his boots. His glasses, you assume, are not on his face, but placed on a table. The kitchen, most likely, though if he stopped at his desk, perhaps they sit among his things. His familiarities. He works in routines, straying little, if at all. You know what he will find, picturing it from memory. The cupboards and fridge undisturbed. A single mug in the skin. Tea, coffee, something hot cooled off, frozen even, half-filled or half-empty, the decision is up to him. It’s all you could manage today. An act you talk yourself into, a feat you are not prepared for, but crave regardless. Sugar and milk. You made it last the day and yet, it remains unfinished. You hear the faucet run, the stream steady. Imagine his hands. Holding the sponge, circling the inside of the ceramic, filling and pouring until bubbles have subsided. Less severe, less violent, less and less and less. He places it on the drying rack upside down, the clink of it alongside the rest of the dishes filling you with guilt. You could have washed it. You could have unloaded the burden from him. It was your mess. Despite it, despite this grief, he will wave it off. Happy to do it, to help. Still, you might argue, and he will shrug, out of words, but not out of fight. 

His footsteps patter through the first floor, pouring food into bowls, calling them each by name. Dinner is served, you think. Unzipping his bag, the sound high and sharp, retreating what he needs before you follow him to the stairs. Each step groaned quietly, as if announcing his presence in whispers. Contaninig their excitement or, perhaps, swapping secrets. Gossip. Down the hall, he makes his way towards you. His cologne, subtle, is a welcomed scent. Woodsy, earthy, like soil. Hints of tobacco. Fabric softener, too. Lavender, you think, though they are all the same. Knocking quietly at the bedroom door, lazily left ajar, before walking inside. Hey you, he says. You were right. He’s not wearing his glasses. You can see his eyes - an amalgamation of color. Blue mostly, though there are hints of green and specks of brown. Puppy dog, exceptional in conveying emotions. You search for anger in them, fury or wrath or disgust, but there is only understanding. Relief. His smile is serene and his movements gentle: placing his files full of photos and notes on the nightstand. Overflowing with gore and mutilation, there is so much work he has brought home, so much responsibility, and yet he makes time for you and your dishes. You’ve been up here all day. He says it as a statement rather than a question. You wait for reprimand, for abolishment or scolding, but his features remain soft. Were you warm enough? The blankets and duvet wrapped around you, piled atop one another. You nod, unable to find your voice. Good, he says, leaning over to kiss your forehead. He is warm despite the cold, his cheeks rosy. The bridge of his nose has two small, red marks. It must’ve been a glasses kind of day. Little time to take them off, to get up close. 

He talks without expectation. About Jack and his demands. About Hannibal and his repetitive, yet fascinating, takes on the world. Undressing as he does so. You watch him unbutton his shirt, a white t-shirt bright underneath. He does not say that he went to his psychiatrist about you. What to do, how to help. Should he be doing something differently? Should he be approaching the subject with more grit, less tenderness? Pulls a sweater over his head, the navy blue one you always liked on him. Unbuckling his belt. Searching for the flannel pants he loves, the pajamas he wears as often as he can. Should he make you go to a hospital? Is that the right course of action? Dr. Lecter hushes his worries. Reminds him he is doing everything right. That this will pass, and you will find your way back to him. He knows this, he must remind himself. He will be patient. He will take care of this, of you, as long as you both need. Bev who made a funny, albeit inappropriate, joke at the crime scene. Another killer on the loose. Too early to track, to pattern match. Talk of two offenders instead of one, a duo. He climbs in beside you, his voice steady, his hands moving as he speaks. Reminiscent of a conductor with no orchestra. Caught up in the drama, the obscurity, the way the bodies were found and how they were killed, he loses himself in the anticipation - a pressure in his chest - he must get out every word before it is too late. It is only after he has finished, catching his breath, does he notice you've fallen back to sleep. 

Trapped in a half-sleep, you catch parts of the truth. The bedside lamp has been turned on, the room even darker than you last saw. His side of the bed is empty. The faucet running in the bathroom. He sits, his files on his lap, string through each image and note. Smells of mint. He hums quietly to himself, a sound you have learned to cherish. The light is off. The bedroom black. He lies beside you, but he is awake. Softly, the words come out. Are you mad at me? He takes a moment, pausing, and dread begins to fill your chest. Why would I be mad at you? He asks,and then adds, Of course not. You can’t bring yourself to explain without tears welling up in your eyes, a sob trapped in your throat, so you say nothing. Because, you start, but cannot bring yourself to finish. Quickly wiping your eyes, grateful for the lack of light. Because I’m a burden, you think. Because I’m not myself. Because I ruin everything. Because you deserve better. Because, because, because. Will moves closer, wrapping his arms around you, rubbing circles into your back. You feel his knuckles across the spokes of your spine. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Another night crying. In the morning your eyes will be bloodshot, your face puffy. Another mess you’ve created that he cleans up. Finally, he whispers: I could never be mad at you. But what about-? Never. His tone, not unharsh, is serious and something about that settles your nerves. The gnawing guilt inside chews with its gums instead of its teeth. Get some sleep, okay? He squeezes you a little tighter. You fall asleep like that, intertwined. 

You don’t hear him get up. You don’t feel his absence until it is too late. A note left for you, his handwriting distinct and melancholy. I made you a drink. Be careful, it’s hot. Love you - Will. The mug he washed, the one you dirtied, sits beside the paper. Steam no longer pours from the top, but the cup itself is still warm. Downstairs you hear the symphony of dogs chewing. Loudly, you note, but happily. Another chore taken care of. Softly, you sip, grateful for him. For his actions, his selflessness. Today will be a little better than the last, that you are certain of. One step at a time. Will will talk to Dr. Lecter again. He will question if he’s helping. He will fear he isn’t doing enough. The two of you wrapped up in your worries, not distinct from one another, similar words with different meanings. Am I doing enough? Am I failing them? He will be talked down, reminded that this thing, this cyclical phase, it always ends. No matter what, there is always an endpoint. He must remind himself that, he must remind you, too. The two of you journey through this not out of obligation, but of necessity. He needs you. He adores you. A world without you is not one he’d like to take part in. Where you sense burden, resentment, anger, he will meet you with generosity, with compassion and understanding. It is a surprise every time, and yet it shouldn’t be. He needs you more than words could ever describe. You can’t get rid of him that easily.

[20-th-centurygirl]

waves

jude bellingham x fem!reader

summary: a late night beach walk reunites you with your ex in the best way possible

a/n: i'm abit unsure on this bc it's been a while since i attempted to write a full fic but enjoy. i also might make a part two if that's something anyone wants to see <3

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

you'd taken a break from the flowing drinks and crowded club to walk to the beach. in hindsight a girls trip to madrid was an idea that should've stayed in your group chat.

the sun had almost set, the gentle sound of the waves crashing against rocks soothing all of your worries. uni had drained you massively and you needed a break.

you knew you couldn't stay much longer, the darkness that was beginning to blanket the sky making you feel a little uneasy. as you were walking back you saw a tall figure at another part of the beach. you couldn't help but feel drawn to him, something about his presence sucking you in. any other time you'd feel unsafe, but this stranger brought you an immense feeling of comfort and safety. you had nothing to be afraid of.

something in you told you to walk over to him. a decision that seemed impulsive and risky but the adrenaline that ran through you told you differently. his head cocked to your direction at the sound of your heels coming his way. you got closer and closer until a streetlight illuminated his face. it was jude.

you had no doubt that his bewildered expression matched yours. "y/n" his voice was confident but his eyes said otherwise. you could still read him like a book no matter how hard he tried to put up a front. "jude" you matched his tone.

a few seconds felt like decades, both of you unsure of what to say. jude broke the tension first "i'm sorry. i never meant to hurt you. you know that don't you?" his confidence had slipped and you sensed the vulnerability in his voice "but you did jude. you did hurt me" you whispered back. memories flooded back to you far too fast and the need to you had to leave was overwhelming. you'd forgotten all about jude bellingham and you weren't ready to remember him.

"i didn't think i had a choice. it was end it and give you the chance to follow your own dreams or force you to watch me follow mine. neither of those options were fair but i had to choose the one i thought was right. i know it was fucked and i'm still so sorry for hurting you but i had no choice"

"if you had to do it again what would you do?

"i'd do the same thing. i know it's horrible but i couldn't live with myself knowing i'd forced you to live in a foreign country with you resenting me for taking away the life you've spoken about since we were 13" his cheeks has a few stray tears falling down his face and the sight broke you in a completely different way.

"i forgive you jude. i know why you did it. i hated you at the time but i got into my first choice uni. and i wouldn't be able to do that without you. thank you"

"can i hug you?" he whispered, the fear in his voice unlike anything you'd never heard. you only nodded, allowing him to hold you for the first time in years.

his arms wrapped tightly around you waist, his chin resting against your head as he screwed his eyes shut. you could feel judes tears on your hair, your own soaking his shirt as you gripped him tightly. "i never wanted to lose you, i still love you so fucking much" he mumbled into your hair, kissing you lightly.

you eventually pulled back, still holding his waist loosely. "i love you too jude." his gentle smile giving you goosebumps. "where are you staying now?" he asked, taking your face into his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumb. "in a hotel. it's only two minutes away. can you walk me back?" he shook his head "no, 'm not letting you stay in some hotel by yourself. come back with me" "jude i can't just-" he pressed a finger to your lips "i'm not bringing you back to try fuck you or anything. you can have my bed and i'll go on the sofa and we can talk everything through in the morning."

"are you sure? i don't wanna intrude"

"yes i'm sure. moms gonna be happy to see you aswell."

you grinned at jude as he took your hand in his. you both walked hand in hand back to his new flat, catching up and reflecting on past memories as you both prepared to make many more.

[souluvvv]

Fading lights - Choi Jiung x reader

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Choi Jiung x reader oneshot ~ ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

genre: angst

notes: english is not my first language!! sry for any errors, hope you still enjoy ^-^

likes and reblog are appreciated!! .⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

-> m.list"

The sound of the rain outside echoed in the otherwise empty apartment, the quiet broken only by the occasional distant rumble of thunder. You sat on the edge of the couch, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your phone. The screen was black, no messages, no calls. Just the silence that had taken over in the past few weeks.

It wasn't always like this.

When Jiung first came into your life, he'd been everything you could've hoped for kind, passionate, always there when you needed him. The little things he'd do to make you smile, the random "I love you" texts, the way he'd hold you when the world felt too heavy. It all seemed like a dream. But now, it felt like that dream was slipping through your fingers, the distance between you both widening with every passing day.

You thought things would change after the fight. You both argued about his long hours, about how much he'd been shutting you out, about the lack of communication. But after that argument, things didn't get better. They only got worse.

You sighed deeply, leaning back against the cushions and staring at the ceiling. How had everything become so cold?

Just a few weeks ago, Jiung had been your everything. Now, he felt like a stranger. You hadn't seen him in days, hadn't spoken to him in what felt like an eternity. The messages you did get from him were short, distant, as if he was trying to hold back. You could feel it, that wall he was putting up between you, and you didn't know how to tear it down.

You tried calling him once. And then twice. Three times, until your battery drained, and you were left with nothing but unanswered calls and empty hope. It wasn't like Jiung to be this way distant, closed off. He'd always been open with you before

Maybe it wasn't a fight.

Maybe it was you.

Maybe it was always going to be this way.

Another buzz from your phone. Your heart skipped, thinking maybe, just maybe, it was Jiung. But when you looked, it was just a ted from a friend, asking how you were. You stared at the screen, not sure how to reply. How could you explain that you felt like you were losing the one person who meant everything to you?

The front door oponed with a soft creak. You froze Jiung was home. But the moment felt different this time distant, awkward. You didn't hear his usual cheerful greeting. Instead, there was only the sound of his shoes hitting the floor, heavy and slow. You stood up, tuming to face him. Jiung was standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark. He didn't smile at you, didn't reach for you like he used to. His presence, once so comforting, now felt like a shadow

The End or the beginning of something broken...

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

~ I tried to really amp up the tension. The open ending allows you to imagine what might happen next whether Jiung comes back, whether things can be fixed, or whether this is gonna be the end of your relationship with him. I hope you enjoyed this, if you got a request please write it in the ask box!!

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[chaethewriter]

Voices Of The Nights

(OPLA!) RORONOA ZORO X READER

A/N: I wrote this for a writing assignment— but I imagined it was Zoro while writing this. Might not be accurate to lore but enjoy!!

Word count: 1,8K

she/her pronouns, fluff, enemies to lovers?

This was the worst idea ever. Taking on a job with this asshole was one thing, but also sharing a room with him after spending an entire day of misfortune was another. Everything about him annoyed her. An entire day of his mocking and insults was enough– getting on her nerves until a vein on her forehead was close to bursting. She was looking forward to an entire night on her own, in her own space, without seeing that menace of a swordsman for even five hours.

Was that too much to ask for?

Just peace and quiet?

Whatever.

12:00 am. Her gaze moved to the way his body stumbled through the hallway. It made her blood boil. He had blocked an attack to save her, resulting in a large cut from his left shoulder to his abdomen. His clothes were all torn apart from the sharp of the weapon cutting through his skin. It smelled like iron. The hallways were starting to reek of it. Not surprising with the way the blood gushed out of his wounds like a waterfall. He was far worse off than her, after all.

But why did he do it?

Why did he save her?

Did he think of her as weak?

The way his hand shook as he pushed the key into its lock annoyed her. Everything about him annoyed her. She locked the door after she entered after him, her eyes following his movements, his blood basically leaking everywhere and covering the hotel's furniture.

"Stay on the floor. You're gushing blood everywhere." She threw her satchel from her shoulder as she pulled at his arm to stop him from falling into the comfort of the bed. The pull was so hard, resulting in him falling on his back on the cold hard floor. He hissed out a cuss her way, but she ignored it as she basically gripped onto his top and ripped it in half. Revealing his torso, she had to fight the blush that was tempted to show itself.

"Like what you see? Take a picture it lasts longer... argh fuck.." his face was husky as he spoke, soon growing horse and not soon after coughing fit leaving his throat.

"That's what you get for being annoying, now hold still," her hand made way to his chest, touching around the area as her other hand dug into her satchel. Her fingers danced around his pecs. Only to see where it hurt, of course. No other reason. Her fingers lingered a little too long against his skin, and he seemed to notice the gesture. His lips parted as to say something, but she shut him up by pushing a cloth into his mouth.

"This is going to hurt, big boy.." That wasn't a lie. It's going to hurt like shit. And that much was clear from the way he groaned and moved when the alcohol hit his wounds. He had a hard time staying still, moving on top of his lap to keep him down, "Aren't you used to alcohol in your system? Stay still, you're annoying. I'm trying to be gentle." And that also wasn't a lie, as she carefully tended to his wounds– her touches soft on his skin.

2:30am. He was passed out on the bed, the blood that pooled under him seeping into the wooden floor and drying into his skin. Bandages securely wrapped around his torso with the blanket keeping his warm. It's drying up. They will notice. The water is no use.

How to clean this mess?

At least he will be fine.. her eyes looked from the now red cloth she tried to rub the blood with to the unconcious man on the bed. She huffed out in annoyance.

Why did he need to be such a drag?

Always causing problems for her. Yet she would always be ready to care for him.

Why did she even bother?

She didn't understand how she felt. She walked from the bathroom to the bedroom a few more times with old cloths in hand, wetting them and putting them down on the floor– making her way to his bedside. She took a seat on the bed, more like leaning since she barely had any space to properly sit down.

"Why did you block that attack, stupid? Now I need to take care of you. It's all just a pain in the ass!" Her lip shivered as her hand made its way to his torso, pressing around on the bandages to feel if they're still secure, "wake up, you're not weak, are you? You're delaying our mission..!"

That's just it, right? It's all about the mission. It always was. But her eyes said something else, as they softened everytime she glanced his way. Even if she didn't notice it herself.

4:00 am. She was sat on the floor, her back leaned against the side of the bed– that if she looked to the right, he would be in her sight. Not that she would want to. Only glancing his way to see if he was still breathing. At least four times every ten minutes. Just the right amount of times to check.

That wasn't weird at all.

She just had to make sure he wouldn't leave her here all alone on this mission. Occasionally checking on his wounds to see how the wounds were healing, still telling herself she doesn't care and that she will never care. And so she sat, sitting and waiting wide awake– secretly praying to the gods that he would wake up.

In the meantime she couldn't fall asleep.

She wouldn't.

Not with him unable to defend himself. She didn't want them to judge her for being weak, which is stupid since it's his own fault for bleeding out enough liquid to drown the lands. He would flinch from time to time, the bed creaking underneath him as she felt it dip against her back. She would turn around in an instance, her eyes widening as she slightly shook his arm– but to no avail.

8:00 am. Her eyes were stone cold, staring at the wall in front of her. The same wall she had been staring at for the past hours. If you would cover her eyes and ask her what her surroundings looked like, she could tell you in an instance. Sitting cross-legged with his precious sword in her hands, keeping it safe until he woke up. Her grip was tight, fists balled up into the material, ready to pull the blade out of its sheath. Her head would slowly roll back, finding comfort for her neck as her eyes would flutter shut– this wouldn't last long as she would jolt awake.

She had no idea how much time went by, not until the sun shone bright in her eyes and a voice whispered in her ear, hot breath tickling her skin, "been waiting for me, pretty girl?"

The hairs stood straight as her eyes widened, turning around and basically knocking the handle of his own sword into his face.

He groaned loudly, immediately falling back onto the bed with a loud cough, "what the hell was that for!?" She watched him with a shocked face, dropping the sword (not without him scolding her how she had to be careful with that) to grab at his shoulders, "you can't just- just up and go ahead and whisper like that in my ear?!?!?" She was basically burning up, face growing red.

The heat was radiating off her. Incredibly flustered and speechless, she went and smacked him on his torso, right on his healing injury. "Why did you block that attack for me, you asshole?!" She basically screamed into his face, eyes teary (from exhaustion, of course) as she remained eye contact with him.

He just looked up at her while covering his chest with his hand, an attempt to relieve the stinging caused by her slap. But he didn't answer. He kept his mouth shut and stared into her eyes. This made her blood boil even more, but she didn't know the exact reason. "Answer me!! Don't just shut up like a coward! You blocked me from an axe attack, so act like the man you think you are!"

Was she even making sense?

Calling him names to convince herself that she could care less about him.

Calling him names to make it sound like she doesn't care about him.

Calling him names all along to try and create enough distance to not come to terms with her feelings.

Her true feelings.

"You're so fucking stupid! Mindlessly jumping in front of weapons like you're made of steel?!? Is that head of yours empty?!" She bumped her fist into his head, punching his temple to see if it sounded as hollow as she thought.

"Cut that out." He grabbed her wrist to stop him from knocking at his face, also using it as leverage to pull her on top of him. She quickly put her hands on the bed, on either side of his face, careful not to wound him any further than he already is.

"You're such a nuisance, running that pretty little mouth." If it was possible, her cheeks grew even redder at that statement, "w-well! You're at fault here! Always commenting on anything I do! Then throwing yourself in front of me?! Do you think I'm weak?! Is that it! That's what you think, right?!" She leaned in closer to him, their noses touching as her voice grew louder by the second.

The thought of him thinking she's weak upset her.

Didn't she show how capable she was?

What more could she do?

"That's not it, it's-" but she cut him off, like she did too often. "Then tell me! Why do you mock me? Make fun of me everyday? Think I can't protect myself? Why are you pulling at my heartstrings! It hurts, you know?!"

He was right.

She ran her mouth too often. And he had to shut her up by putting his hand on the back of her head– at least he tried to with the pain shooting through his entire body and pushing his mouth into hers. Sharing a kiss as the sun illuminated their faces.

Let me know what you thought with a comment! <3 thank you sm for reading!

[justwhisperingfantasies]

I Can't Let You Go Prt 2

Characters: Sam Winchester x Female Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel. Bobby Singer. Crowley. Death. Lucifer. Adam. Michael. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, Hurt Dean, Sam, Reader, Bobby, and Cas. Guns, Cannon violence. Cannon with a twist. Let me know if I forgot any.

Summary: You have known Sam Winchester most of your life. He was your best friend and you were completely in love with him. The day after he decides to take on Lucifer and put him back in the cage is the day he finally makes himself tell you how he truly feels about you.

Word count: 6,364 words

My Tag List

A/N: I know it's been a while, I had a hard time writing this because I knew where it was headed. Sorry for the wait. Hope ya'll enjoy it. 💗

Part 1 ><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><

You woke in the familiar room alone. You looked around and saw your duffle in the corner. Sam must have brought it up for you. You walked over and opened it. You found a clean pair of jeans and a gray V-neck shirt. Eh, that will work you thought. 

“Rise and shine,” Sam said as he walked in the door holding a cup of coffee. 

“Mmmm Thank you,” you said then sipped. “Oh, Dean coffee.”

He chuckled as he sat down on the bed. “Actually I made Dean show me how to make the “world’s best coffee”. He playfully mocked you. 

You squinted your eyes at him” Watch it, Winchester.”

You closed the door and started changing. Sam let out a whistle and you rolled your eyes. He waited until you got dressed then grabbed you pulling you down to straddle him. You twisted your fingers in his hair as you kissed his lips. His arms wrapped tightly around you as he laid his head on your shoulder. Your arms hugged around his neck. 

“So what's on the agenda for today?” 

“Well, Dean and Crowley are going to confront death and the rest of us will stop this pharm company.” He explained the virus outbreak and the vaccines. 

“And we trust Crowley now?!”

“I don’t think we have a choice. Plus he seems to want Lucifer back in the cage as much as we do.”

. “I guess. So when are we leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Alright. We should get everything ready.” 

“Yeah probably.” he agreed but neither of you let go. 

“Sam.” 

“Yeah, Yeah,” he sighed as he squeezed you and then loosened his arms. You stood up and bent back down giving him a quick kiss making him smile. 

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As you tossed the last bag in your truck Dean shut the Impala trunk. “Alright, well good luck stopping the zombie apocalypse,” he said 

“Yeah, Good luck killing death,” Sam replied. You could see the worry in their eyes. Sam chuckled. “Do you remember when we used to just hunt Wendigos? Back when everything was simple?”

“Ha. Not really.” Dean smiled. 

“Yeah, well you might need this,” Sam said holding out the demon blade to Dean. 

“Actually, Dean is covered,” Crowley said popping out of thin air. Holding out a scythe to Dean. “Deaths own, known to kill demons, angels, reapers, and rumored to kill the very thing itself. 

“Where did you get that?” Cas asked 

“I'm the king of the crossroads. Remember?” Crowley smiled.  “Bobby you just going to sit there?”

“No, I’m gonna river dance?!” Bobby sneered. 

“Oh, Bobby. You really wasted that deal. ” everyone looked at Crowley confused. “You get more if you phrase it properly,” he explained how he added a tiny sub-a clause for Bobby. “So, just gonna sit there?”

Bobby moved his feet. Everyone looked at him in disbelief. Then he stands up. “ Son of a bitch!” he remarks. Everyone smiled at him. 

“Yes, completely worth your soul. I know I’m a hell of a guy.” Crowley smiled.

“Thanks,” Bobby said truly meaning it. 

“Yes, can we go?” Crowley asked walking to the passenger side of the Impala.

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As Bobby drove, Sam sat next to you explaining his plan to Cas.

“That's an interesting plan,” Castiel said after thinking about it for a second. 

“That's a word for it.” Bobby scoffed. 

“Not the one I would use.” You said. Sam put his hand on your thigh for comfort.

“Go ahead Cas. Tell me it's the worst plan you've ever heard,” he said playfully squeezing your leg. 

“Well I could, but that’s not what I think,” Cas said. 

“Really?!” you and Sam said at the same time. 

“ You and Dean have exceeded my expectations time and time again, he resisted Michael maybe you could beat Lucifer,” Cas explained. “However since Adam said yes, if you say yes, then fail. The fight will happen, and the collateral will be immense.”

You felt Sam’s body stiffen beside you. You grabbed Sam’s hand and placed it in your lap lacing your fingers together. 

“And then there’s the demon blood,” Cas said.

“Wait what are you talking about?!” You asked

“ To take on Lucifer, Sam would have to consume more than he ever has. It strengthens the vessel. Keeps it from exploding.” Cas explained. 

“But the guy he's in now…” Sam started. 

“Is drinking gallons.” Castiel cut him off.

“No fucking way!” you said. 

“Yeah. How is this not the worst plan you've ever heard?” Bobby looked at Castiel. 

Sam’s jaw tightened and you could see in his face how difficult this was for him. Taking his hand out of yours he placed his face in his palms.  “Sam..”

“Let's just get this done and we can all argue when we get back to Bobby’s. Okay?” Sam cut you off in a harsh tone, you turned and looked out your window blinking back tears. 

The rest of the ride was complete silence. 

You guys finally reached Niveus Pharmaceuticals and staked out the place for a bit. 4 yellow semi trucks were being loaded on a truck dock. While observing  Bobby went over the plan. “ they are loading the hot shots now. The first truck doesn't leave for an hour. We get in plant the c-4 then pull the fire alarm.”

“Um, that truck is leaving.” Castiel points. 

“Balls! Ok, new plan.”

Cas runs to the escaping truck. As the driver tries to slide his key card to unlock the gate Castiel knocks him out causing his head to land on the horn. The demons on the dock all look up. 

“It’s the Winchesters.” one of them said as he started pulling down and locking the doors.

“Well then let’s cook up something for them,” the other demon said ripping into a box of vaccines.   You, Sam, and Bobby run to the dock doors, but you are too late.

“Side door!” Bobby yells. As you approach the side door you can hear people inside banging on the door and yelling for help. 

“Get Back” you yell and you shoot the lock on the door. The people ran out frightened. The 3 of you walk in guns drawn.  You hear grunting and some thumping. You and Sam look to Bobby. He slides the backpack of explosives off his shoulders and Sam does the same. Bobby signals you guys to follow him. You round a corner of shelves to find 6 humans infected with the Croatoan virus ripping a guy to shreds. 6 pairs of red eyes turn to you. You cock your cocks at the same time. You guys manage to take them all out before they reach you.

“HELP ME!!” a woman nearby screams. 

“There's still people in here,” Sam says as he starts to walk in the direction of the screams. 

“Sam wait,” you said 

“Take this and stay here.” He says handing you the demon blade. 

“Damnit,” you said as you took the blade.  Sam continues into the warehouse aiming his shotgun. 

Bobby turns to face you. “(y/n) behind you.”

You turn around and there’s a demon. You stab him in his side with the blade killing him. 

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“Hey, do you think we can stop for pizza?” Crowley asked Dean as they walked up to an abandoned building. 

“Are you kidding?!” 

“Just heard it was good.” He pointed at the barn ahead. “He’s in there.”

“How do you know?”

“Have you met me? I know. Plus the block is squirming with reapers.” Crowley said as he looked around. “I’ll be right back.” and Crowley disappeared.  

Two seconds later he reappeared. “Boy, is my face red. He's not in there.”

“You wana cut the bullshit and tell me where he is?” Dean snapped

“Sorry, I'm not sure. We can catch him in the next doomed city.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Bobby sold his soul for this?”

“Don't worry there’s a return policy.” Crowley ensured him. 

“Millions crowley! Millions of people are going to die any minute now.” Dean yelled.

“Yeah, so I suggest we get out of here!” Crowley said as he walked away. 

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Back at the pharm warehouse, you started to get anxious. You began to walk in the direction Sam went. 

“(y/n) He will be fine. “

“Bobby,” you were cut off by the sounds of gunshots. You took off  in his direction, but stopped when you saw Sam bringing  victims around the corner, 

“Help them,” Sam said to you. You drew your gun and escorted them to the door. 

“All clear” Sam concluded. 

You looked to the left and saw an infected worker charging for Sam.  “Sam watch out!” but you were too late. You started running toward them. The worker jumped on Sam causing him to fall on his back. The worker was on top of Sam choking him full force. Bobby raised his gun, but it was empty. You slid and put the end of your sawed-off shotgun barrel on the worker's forehead and pulled the trigger. Blood went everywhere. Sam started gasping for air.  You laid your arms and head down with a sigh.

“You good?” you asked Sam. 

“Yeah, “ He got out once he caught his breath.

“Good, Can we  commit our act of domestic terrorism now?” Bobby asked starting to walk toward the backpacks you laid down earlier. 

Sam got up and put his hand out offering to help you up. You took it, and you were on your feet so fast it made your head spin a little.  “Let's go,” he said. 

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Dean made his way back to the Impala. Crowley was already sitting in the passenger seat. Dean got in the driver's seat. “So what?” he said with a groan. “ Bomb threats? How the hell do I get 3 million people out of Chicago in the next 10 minutes?” He looked over to Crowley for advice, but he was gone.  Dean looked around. “Fuck!” Dean snapped then looked across the street.  Crowley was pointing in a pizzeria mouthing “I found him” 

“What? I can't hear you.” Dean said aloud and threw up his hands. 

“I said I found him,” Crowley said as he popped back into the passenger seat making Dean jump. “ He is in there.” Crowley pointed again.

Dean got out. “You coming..” he said as he turned around, Crowley was gone again, “ I guess not.”  He made his way over to the pizzeria. Cautiously and Quietly Dean walked through the front door.  There was a waitress behind the bar sitting on the floor, dead. Two men sitting at a table both of their faces in a half-eaten pizza, dead.  A younger waitress lying on the floor in the middle of the room, dead. Dean shook his head but kept going. He entered the next room. More Dead bodies sprawled out on the floor. He looked up to a man sitting at a table looking out the window. Sythe in hand Dean crept toward the man. The sythe got hotter the closer he got. As he dropped it on the floor he could feel the blister from the burn forming. There was a loud clanking sound as it hit the ground. 

“Thanks for returning that,” the man said.  Dean looked up at him. The man just stared out the window, Dean looked back down to find the Sythe had disappeared, “Join me, Dean.” Dean looked back up at the man. It was now sitting on the table beside the man’s plate. “The pizza is delicious!” Dean still cautious walked over. 

The man was cutting up a piece of pizza. Not looking up from his plate “ Sit down. I think we need to have a chat.”

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Somehow you got Bobby to let you drive back to his house. It was nice having to focus on the road rather than all the apocalypse shit that was going on. It was still too quiet though. You turned the radio on and popped in a mixed CD. Johnny Cash started playing. You turned the volume up a little. You peeked in the backseat to see if you woke Bobby or Cas.

“I fell into a burning ring of fire. I went down. Down. Down. And the flames went higher.

You looked over at Sam. He was looking at you with wide eyes. “ Oh my god. I’m sorry, I didn't even think about it when it started playing. “ your cheeks got hot. 

“ I was wondering how long it was gonna take.” he chuckled.  

As you hit the next button on the CD player you hit a bump causing your finger to hit the button a couple of times. Highway to hell by AC/DC started playing. “Shit!” you quickly turned the radio off. “We don't need music.”

Sam chuckled and it made you smile.  “But you hate driving without music.” He turned the radio back on and skipped the song. Changes By Tupac started playing and your head started bobbing. He hit the skip button again. 

“Hey,” you said 

Misunderstanding by Genesis started to play.  “ You know your music taste is baffling,” he said smiling. 

“Not baffling. It’s diverse.”

He chuckled. “ Whatever you say, princess.” you smiled. 

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“He just gave it to you?!”  you yelled from under your truck as you put the oil drain plug back in its hole. You slid out from under the truck and stood up, wiping the oil off your hands with a rag.  You walked over to the table Dean was sitting at. All 4 rings were lying in front of him. 

Dean held a beer out for you. “ With one condition,” he said. You took the beer and opened it. He took a drink of his. 

“ Well spit it out.” you took a drink.

“ Sam says yes and puts Lucifer back in the cage.”

“Oh. Of course.” 

You guys turned as you heard something slide across the floor by the garage door.

“Bobby,” Dean said. “How’d it go at the Rockette’s audition?”

Bobby laughed. “Kicks were too low. Maybe next year.” You and Dean smiled. “I've been just walking up and down the stairs for no damn reason. I’m kinda sore.” he laughed and sat across the table from Dean. 

“Watch this,” Dean said as he put the rings in a particular order. 1 in the middle the other 3 circled it. He slid the one closest to him up toward the 1 in the middle and the other 2 rings moved automatically toward the center. 

“So, Death told you how to operate them? The whole deal?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah. It’s freaking crazy.” Dean took a drink “ I have a bigger problem now though.”

“Like?” Bobby asked. You walked back over to your truck and started pouring oil into it. 

“What do you think would happen if someone lied To Death's face?”

“Probably nothing good. What did you tell him?”

“That I wouldn't stand in the way of Sam jumping in the pit.”

“So Death thinks Sam should say yes?”

“He said Sam was the only human that stood a chance against Lucifer.”

“Well you didn't tell me that part,” you said as you threw the empty oil jug in the trash can and walked back over to the table. 

“Of course, he would say that. He works for Lucifer.”

“Against his Will.” You shot back

“Well, we should probably take his word with a big fat grain of fucking salt. I mean he is Death.”

“Exactly he is death.” You said 

“Think of the bird's eye view” Bobby chimed in and you nodded. 

“Seriously?” Dean was getting irritated, 

“I'm just sayin,” Bobby said holding up his hand. 

“Well don’t!” 

“Look.  I know Sam has some flaws, but…” Bobby paused, 

“But?” Dean asked. 

“Back at Niveus. I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another, He must have saved over 10 people. With the help of (y/n),” Bobby nodded at you. “ He never stopped, never slowed down. We’re hard on him, Dean. We always have been. Meanwhile,  He’s been saving people since he was what 12?”

“Pretty much yea,” Dean confirmed.

“Sam has a darkness in him, yes. But he’s got a hell of a lot of good too.” 

“I know that!”

“Then you know Sam will beat the devil or die trying.” Bobby looked at you and then back at Dean. “ And that's the best we can ask for. So I gotta ask you two. What exactly are you guys afraid of? Losing? Or losing Sam?”

You walked out of the garage and looked up to find Sam sitting on the hood of the Impala. You started walking toward him. You knew everything Bobby said was true. You knew there was no going back or trying to talk Sam out of this. It was going to happen. All you could do was enjoy the time you had left. 

“Heeeeyy, You come here often big boy?” you said in a cheesy voice.

He smiled. “Only when you're here hot stuff.” you smiled “Want a beer?” you shook your head.

You took a deep breath. “Look I know I've been a pain in the ass about the whole Lucifer, Cage thing and I’m sorry. I know how hard this has been on you. My attitude and fighting haven't made it any better.”

“I get it. Trust me” He sighed “I let him out (y/n). All the shit that's happened, it’s on me. I have to make this right and put him back in the cage before more people die.”

“Ok.”

“OK?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I understand and I’m not gonna fight it anymore. Even though I fucking hate it with every ounce of my soul.”

“I know. I really am sorry I probably shouldn’t have called and let this all happen. I feel like I led you on in a way.”

“Well, you didn’t and I’m glad you called. I would of rather it have gone like this than never knowing how you felt,” you confessed.

He grabbed you and pulled you over to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck. He rested his forehead against yours.

“(y/n) can you promise me something?” he whispered. 

“Maybe.”

“If I do this. If I win and jump into the cage..” He paused “You and Dean can't try to bring me back.”

“Excuse me?”

“Seriously Babe. What if you start rattling the cage and you let him out again?”

“Sam, I can't just let you rot in a cage with the devil for eternity.”

“You can’t risk it.” your jaw tightened. Damn it, He was right. 

“Please?”

“Fine.”

You heard Dean clear his throat behind you” Get a room.”

Sam laughed. 

“Heya (y/n) can I get a minute with Sam?” 

“Yep.” you gave Sam a peck on the cheek then bent down grabbed a beer and walked away. 

“Hey!” both Winchesters said at the same time. You looked back and stuck your tongue out at them. 

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You pulled up to the abandoned warehouse and saw Bobby standing at the back of his van looking at newspapers. You parked your truck and walked over to him. 

“Hey kiddo, How you holdin' up?”

“Bout the same. Anything good?” 

“Couple things that stood out.” you both turned as you heard the warehouse doors open. Your stomach went queasy when you saw Sam and Castiel holding gallon jugs of blood. Sam’s eyes met yours and he hesitated at the steps. Dean walked up behind him. Sam lowered his head and continued to the Impala. You looked back at the papers Bobby was holding. Dean walked over to you and Bobby. 

“Bobby I just can’t get used to you at eye level.” Bobby gave him a smirk. “(y/n) how ya doin' sweetheart?”

“Just peachy,” you said in a sarcastic tone. 

Dean sighed, “Yeah. You don’t have…” 

“Save it, Dean. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.”

He nodded and then looked at Bobby. “Well, Yoda you were right. 2 stunt demons in there just like you said.”

“Did you get it?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah. All the go juice Sammy can drink. “Dean replied. Your stomach turned again. 

“You ok?” you asked Dean. 

“Not really. Did you guys find anything?”

“Do these look like omens to you?” Bobby handed Dean the papers as he read the headlines out loud. “Cyclone in Florida, Temperature drop in Detriot, Wildfires in L.A…”

“Wait, Detriot?” you asked as Dean and you looked at each other and then back at Bobby. 

Bobby’s eyebrows furrowed. “ the temps dropped about 20 degrees, but only in a 5-block radius of downtown Motown.”

“That's the one.” Dean tossed the newspapers in the back of Bobby’s van. “He’s in Detriot.”

“You sure?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah. He’s sure.” you chimed in. You looked over at Sam. The sadness on his face made your stomach twist. You looked back at Bobby. “Van or truck?”

“You think your truck will be okay here?” 

“Should be. If not I know a guy that has a scrap yard. I’ll just fix another one up.” They both smiled. “ I just gotta grab my stuff.” and turned to walk back to your truck. 

You opened the back seat and leaned in to grab your duffle. You felt Sam behind you. “ you know you shouldn’t sneak up on a hunter.” he stayed silent. “Sammy, you ok?” you asked as you turned around and your heart broke. He stood there with his hands in his jacket pockets. Lips drawn in a tight line. His eyebrows pulled up and together. His eyes were so full tears were almost spilling out. You wrapped your arms around him as tight as you could. His arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“ you sure about this?” you asked.

“Yes. I have to.”

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The ride with Bobby was silent. Neither of you wanted to talk about what happened next. 

Both cars parked in an alley across the street from a building in the middle of the temperature-dropped zone. You and Bobby found Lucifer’s hiding place. A dingy dirt dirt-covered white two-story house. 

“We found it. At least 2 dozen demons on guard.” he pointed in the direction. “ Our guess is he’s in there. 

“Alright then, (y/n) Give me a hand would ya?” Dean said as he nodded to the back of the Impala. You followed Dean. He popped the trunk. Your stomach twisted again at the sight of the jugs.

“So on the way here, Sam made me promise something. “ Dean confessed so low you could barely hear him.

“I know he made me promise too.” 

“So you’re getting out?” He asked surprised. 

“ Uh no. I never agreed to that. I just promised I wouldn’t rattle the cage.” 

“Hmm, He told me to go find Lisa and settle down. Live an apple-pie life.” 

Dean was looking over the lifted drunk. He looked down blinking back tears. You peeked around Bobby and Sam were hugging. You felt a sting in your chest. You were not ready for this. 

“Dean, you deserve to be happy. If  Lisa and Ben are that for you then you should go. No one is going to judge you for getting out. And if they do fuck ‘em!” 

He smiled. “Thank you. And what about you?”

Sam walked over to Castiel with his hand out. 

“I don’t know,” you said blinking back tears. Happiness for you was out of the question and you knew it. Dean rubbed your shoulder. 

Sam looked over at you and started walking towards you. Dean patted your shoulder and then walked away. 

“Hey there hot stuff, you come here often?” He said as he approached you. 

You smiled “Only when you’re here, Big boy.” You said with tears sliding down your cheeks. 

He grabbed you and pulled you into his arms. Your arm wrapped around him as you laid your head against his head. You could feel his heart pounding. You inhaled his vanilla and cedar scent for the last time. He lifted your chin with his fingers and wiped away your tears. He brought his lips to your ear. “I love you, always have, always will.” He whispered. And then his lips were on yours, the kiss was quick and sweet, but you could feel through his soft lips meant every word. 

“I love you too Sam.”

He squeezed you one last time. “Do you mind not watching this, (y/n)?” He said as he loosened his hold and put his hands on your cheeks. You nodded as a few tears ran down your cheeks. Sam wiped them away and kissed your forehead. You turned and started walking over to where everyone else was. You wiped your eyes trying to stop crying. 

“You okay?” Dean Asked. 

“No. you?”

“No.” 

No one could say or do anything to make you feel better, the four of you just stood there in silence. Sam slammed the trunk when he finished. He was all jacked up.  “Let’s go!” The blood smeared on his lips brought your nausea back. You started to walk with Sam and Dean, all four men yelled “NO!” and Castiel grabbed your arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Please?” Sam pleaded. 

You nod and watch him walk away. Castiel wrapped his arm around you and you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

“Alright we’re here, you sons of bitches, come get it.” you heard Sam yell when they got to the sidewalk.  Two demons walked out the door and grabbed the boys shoving them through the door. You started to take a step.

“(y/n)” Castiel said. Tightening his arm. You didn’t fight him. 

After the longest 3 minutes of your life, you see a flash of bright light explode out of the second-story windows. Then all of a sudden the wind kicked up and you knew Dean had opened the cage. 

The wind stopped within 10 seconds. Was he gone? Like really gone? There was no breakdown into tears, no giant hole feeling in your chest like you thought there would be. Sure you were sad and you knew something had changed, but he didn't feel gone. 

A couple of minutes later Dean came walking out of the house. He kept his head down until he made it to your side of the street. When he looked you in the eyes you saw the extra wetness in his. 

“Well?” Bobby asked when Dean reached you guys.

Dean explained everything that happened. How Lucifer had already known about the rings, How Sam and Lucifer had a battle in Sam’s head, How Lucifer had taken over his body, took the rings, and disappeared. “ I tried to talk him out of it in the last few seconds.”

“Dean.” you tried to tell him it wasn't his fault. 

“I know” He cut you off.  Just then you heard a big commotion coming from down the street you four all looked at each other and headed in that direction.  There was an electronic store with T.V.s in the front window. The banner across the bottom of them said breaking news. 

Reporter: Reports are flooding in a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, and more in Hong Kong, Berlin, And Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation but says to expect a six-figure death toll. 

“It’s starting,” Castiel said. 

“You think Genuis?” Dean said sarcastically 

“Dean, you don't have to be an ass.” You chimed in. 

“Sorry,” he said to Cas. “So what do we do now?”

“I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and wait for the inevitable blast wave.” 

“Well, thank you, Bukowski..” 

“Dean stop.” You were over his attitude. “How do we stop it Cas?”

“We can’t…” Castiel said with a grim look on his face. “Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field. And the battle of Armageddon will begin.” 

“Ok, Where’s this chosen field?” Dean asked in a nicer tone. 

“I don’t know” 

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Dean argued. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, It's over,” Castiel said with glossy eyes. 

“Castiel, We are not giving up!” Bobby walked up beside Dean.”Right, Bobby?” Bobby stood there in a daze. “Bobby?” Dean raised his voice a little. 

“There wasn’t much hope to begin with,” Bobby said shaking his head. “ I don’t know what else to do.”

“Fucking ridiculous” Dean growled and started walking back to the car. The rest of you followed him.

“Hey Cas, Do you mind riding back with Bobby? I need to talk to Dean,” you asked when you got back to the alley.

“Sure,” he said and walked over to Bobby’s van.” 

“ So what do you need to talk about?” Dean asked when after you guys got in. 

“Do you still have Chuck’s number?” 

Dean’s face lit up as he smiled. “ I knew you wouldn’t give up.” He pulled out his phone and searched in his contacts. He hit the green button and put the phone up to his ear. 

“Um, no, Chuck?”  “Who’s Mistress Magda?”  “Yeah, I’ll bet real close. What happened to Becky?” “Boy, you got a whole virgin/hooker thing going on don’t you?” Oh come on Dean you thought. “Sam said yes.” “Did you see where the fight is going down?” Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Fuck.”  “Stull Cemtary, wait I know that, It's right outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?” “Alright, Do you know of any way to short-circuit this thing?” “Did you see what going to happen next?” “Alright, thanks, Chuck.” He hit the red button. 

“Tomorrow. Noon. You feel like a road trip to Kanas?”

“I'm in. Let me grab my guns.” you went to Bobby’s van to grab your things. You made it back over to the Impala before Bobby and Cas stopped you and Dean.

“You two going someplace?” Bobby yelled as he walked over. “ ya’ll are gonna do somethin’ stupid huh?”

“We are going to talk to Sam.”

“You just don’t give up.” Bobby looked at Dean then you. 

“Bobby, It’s Sam.” You said. 

“ If you couldn’t reach him here,” Castiel chimed in “you're certainly not gonna be able to on the battlefield.”

“Maybe not, But she might be able to. She and I together might do it. And if we have already lost, we don’t  have anything to lose right?”

“I just want both of you to understand. All you are going to see out there is Michael killing Sam.”

“Well then, we aren’t going to let him die alone,” Dean said as he looked at you. You nodded in agreement. You both got in the car and drove off. 

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Dean stopped the car right outside the entrance to the old run-down graveyard. You could see Sam and Adam talking ahead in the distance. 

“You ready?” Dean said pushing a tape in the cassette player. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

He revved the engine a few times, hit play on the radio, and turned the volume up.

Gunter, Gliben, Glaunchen, Globen come through the speakers as he drives down to his brothers. You and Dean get out of the car. 

“Howdy boys, are we interrupting something?” He says as he closes the door. He motions for you to stay back and he walks closer to Sam. “We need to talk.”

“Dean, even for you this is a whole new level of stupid,” Lucifer said

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Sam.”   “You’re no longer the vessel Dean, you got no right to be here.” Adam cut in

“Adam. If you're in there somewhere I am so sorry.” 

“Adam isn’t here right now.” 

“Well, then you’re next on my list buttercup. Right now I want 5 minutes with him.”

“You little maggot, you are no longer part of this story,” Adam said approaching Dean. You started walking in their direction. 

“Hey ass-but.” you heard Castiel. You looked up to see him and Bobby stand there. Just then Castiel threw a bottle at Adam. Adam caught on fire letting out an eye-piercing scream then vanished. 

“Ass-butt?” Dean asked Cas. 

“He’ll be back and angry, but you got your 5 minutes.”

“Castiel,” Sam said. “Did you just molotov my brother with holy fire?”

Cas raised his hands backing away “Uh no.” 

“No one dicks with Michael, but me!” He snapped his fingers and Castiel exploded spraying pink mist all over Bobby. 

“NO!” you yelled. And Lucifer spun in your direction. 

“Sammy, can you hear me?” Dean asked. 

Lucifer turned to him. “You know, I've tried to be nice.”He walked up to Dean. “For Sammy’s sake, but you are such a pain.” he grabbed Dean by the opening of his jacket. “In my ass.” Lucifer threw Dean into the windshield of the Impala and started back at him. You and Bobby both pulled your guns out and shot at the same time. Lucifer looked at you then turned halfway to Bobby. He looked back at you. He raised both hands and twisted them.  Breaking yours and Bobby’s neck at the same time. Dean looked back and forth between you two as your lifeless bodies dropped to the ground. 

“NOOO!!” Dean yelled. 

“Yes,” Lucifer said grabbing Dean’s ankle and pulling him off the Impala. Punching Dean so hard he busted his lip open. Dean fell onto the Impala. He stood back up, spitting the blood out of his mouth. 

“Sammy, are you in there?”

“Oh, he’s in here alright,” Lucifer said taking another swing at Dean’s face. He fell back down onto the Impala.” and he’s gonna feel me snap all of your bones.” Lucifer landed another punch. This time knocking Dean to the ground. “Every single one.” Lucifer picked Dean up and propped him up against the Impala. Punch, punch, punch punch. After about 12 blows Lucifer stopped. Dean’s face was swollen and bloody.

“Sammy. It’s ok. I'm here.” Dean managed to say. “I'm not going to leave you.” Lucifer punched again. And again. And again. “I'm not gonna leave you.” Dean's voice was muffled from all the swelling and a couple of busted teeth. 

As Lucifer drew his fist back the glare of the window caught his eye. Sam was fighting hard. And then looked down at the army man stuck in the back ashtray. This is what Sammy needed to fuel his fight. He thought of all the good memories he and his brother shared in this car. Shoving the army man in the ashtray while Dean shoved legos in the front vent, carving their initials by the speaker in the rear dash. He thought about all the pranks and road trip sing a longs they had. The time he scared the grab out of Dean who was sleeping in the passenger seat. Dean making him dinner when they were kids. Dean sacrificing his life for Sam’s. He lowered his fist and let go of Dean. Dean fell to the ground. One eye was swollen shut and a broken swollen jaw, and his face was covered in blood. He was almost unrecognizable.

“It’s ok, Dean.” Sam had taken over his body. “It's gonna be ok. I've got him.” he reached into his pocket, grabbed the rings, and tossed them on the ground. “ Bvtmon, Tabges, Babalon.” The ground rumbled and a sinkhole opened. The wind started whipping and the thunder roared loud. 

“Sam, It can’t end this way. I have to fight my brother. You need to step back.” Adam was back. 

“You're gonna have to make me,” Sam yelled He took one last look at Dean, put his arms out, and started to fall. Adam rushed over and grabbed him. But it was too late. They both fell into the pit. With a big flash, the pit closed. The rings lay on the ground where Sam had tossed them. Dean crawled over and just held them. As he started weeping he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and there stood Castiel. 

“Cas, you’re alive?” 

“I'm better than that.” He touched Dean’s forehead and healed him. 

“Cas, Are you god?” Deam asked getting to his feet. 

“That's a nice compliment.” Castiel smiled. “But no. although I believe he did bring me back, New and improved.” He walked over to Bobby and touched his temple. Bobby came back to life. Bobby sat up and Cas nodded at him. He looked back at Dean, who was pointing at you. “I know.” Dean got up and followed Cas over to your body. Castiel bent down and put his fingers on your temple. 

You woke. You sat up and looked around. Sam was gone, really gone. Your heartbeat started to race, your hands began to shake, and You started panting for air as your chest tightened. Dean plopped down beside you pulling you into a bear hug.

“Shhh. Deep Breath (y/n).” Dean said in a calming voice. But the tears were coming and you couldn't stop them. You started bawling into Dean’s Chest. 

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You were sort of relieved when you got back to your truck. The whole ride here with Dean had been silent. You grabbed your stuff out of his backseat and threw it in yours. Dean and Bobby were standing by the tailgate. 

“Well..” Dean said. 

“That’s a deep subject,” Bobby remarked. You shook your head and smiled.  “What’s next for you (y/n)?” Dean asked you.

“Not sure,” 

“What about you?” Bobby asked Dean.

“I made a promise,” Dean said walking over to hug you. “If you need anything, and I mean anything.”

“I know Dean,” you said as you hugged him back.

He walked over to Bobby. “You have my number too,” Dean said as he hugged Bobby. “ Keep her outta trouble, will ya?” 

“I do.” Bobby smiled. “I can try, but I'm only one man.” Dean chuckled. Bobby looked at you. “You coming back to the house?”

“Eventually.” you needed some space right now. 

“Just be careful,” Bobby said as he hugged you. 

“Always.” you squeezed back. 

Everyone walked to the driver doors of their vehicles. You waved at them then hopped in your truck. 

The three of you drove off in different directions.

[heyitschartic]

Please don't delete that post, as fucked up as it may sound, as I'm someone just starting her own transition this is kinda giving me hope in a weird way. Like even if it might not be for me i might still be able to be better off having transitioned.

I'm sorry if this is too much to ask but could you talk more about it? Whether it be your feelings about it, the experience overall or just something else about it I'd be interested to hear more.

Do you think had this not happened and you were in better circumstances you would've transitioned still?

It actually does make me feel better that my messy transition is helping you work your way through yours. I can say, it's definitely worth going through if you're questioning. Transitioning is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Also, don't worry, I probably won't delete it just cause I wouldn't work up the nerve to ever write it out again. Anyway, shit under the dash again I guess

My feelings about it are so fucking complex lol. I'm actually sort of working on a story lightly based off it right now just cause posting dredged so many of these feelings up. To an extent, I look back on that point in my life with a lot of fondness. It was...it wasn't amazing, but a lot of what came out of it was? I was working through so much shit, that at some point being forcibly transitioned was literally just like one more thing on the pile. Like I said, I had put my body through hell and was kinda recovering from that, not including all the mental health stuff and I was still holding down a job until the pandemic hit, just cause I kept forcing myself to go.

But at points it was everything, just this all encompassing performance with me as the star and so many feelings get wrapped up in that. Self hatred, pity, dysphoria, anger. But, there was also joy. Renewal. Success. Love. So much of what happened was wrapped up in love that it's hard for me to fully in my head view it as toxic or wrong.

Sometimes I consider it lucky. So many trans people are just thrown into a transition without guidance and have to sink or swim. You have to learn makeup, fashion, how to talk, how to act, little ticks, even stuff like bras. To just have someone there the entire time holding your hand and explaining it to you is literally more than I could ever ask for.

But it was also one of the most messed up things that ever happened to me. I spent so many days crying as I tried to grapple with it and how I felt about myself. I think for a full week I was just shut down when I put it all together. Even if I started to enjoy it, so much of the experience was a mess of emotions and consent that I still have trouble shifting through today. And that push by my ex to change everything about myself just left so many fucked up ways that I measure my self worth in the aftermath.

When you're in that nebulous in between of not knowing what you are, it's frightening. I was adrift for a long time.

I just felt like a fake person when I was in "girlmode" and also in "guymode" Like, that shit left a lot of mental scars about how I view myself to the point its hard for me to ever go out without full face, perfect dress, etcetera just because of how much it impacted my sense of self. I still deal with some of that even today. So many feelings of never living up to what I need to do to be a women just kick around my head constantly. To top it ll off, I still haven't gotten surgeries I want and could get just because of how much that got tied into me conceiving of myself as a person.

But like...I have heard so many people talk about gender euphoria, this was like that on a whole higher level. Every single moment she was there to guide me, show me, affirm me, love me. Every step I took was a step forward. She brought me out of my worst moments of dysphoria, of feeling fake. She cradled me in bed after long days, rubbing hands through my hair, and saying I was her girl. I got so many makeovers early on, where I could look in a mirror and see the woman I would be. I was never questioned in anything I did because I always had her by my side. I always felt safe. To be loved is to be changed and girl, did I get changed.

When I was adrift I was such a mess, but once I had that femininity to grasp onto it felt like a life vest to pull me out of the water.

But the problem with having something like this happen to you is that for the rest of your life you're left wondering if it's all real. It makes the core bedrock you base yourself on so shaky. I was remade from a lie, transitioned at her behest, and so what does that mean for the me I am now? I spent a year questioning if I was even really trans after, cause like, how can you be a trans person if you didn't even fucking make the choice to transition.

However, if I really hated it, I could have detransitioned! If I didn't like it I could have gone back and I didn't. I like who I am, I like being a woman. Isn't grappling with deciding if you're trans just the average fucking trans person's experience? If it wasn't for the force fem lean to all of this, it's just a trans woman complaining about how hard it is to be a trans woman!

Still, I don't know if I would have transitioned without her help. Not because I didn't want it, but because I could have never accepted it.

I think that there were signs I might have been trans, though I don't know how much of that is me just looking back and hoping. But I don't know if I ever would have transitioned if it hadn't happened to me like this. I just wasn't even really aware that was an option. Maybe if someone had walked up and just offered, but even then I probably would have instinctively gone "not for me, thanks." I like to think my ex saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself, saw an egg that needed to be cracked but was just too dense to do it on her own.

The problem is I wasn't in good circumstances and now it's hard for me to ever see myself getting into good circumstances without this happening to me first. I guess in a way I'm evidence Dorley Hall would work in real life. Transitioning did save me, it did make me a better person, and it made me happier, even if I needed a little help to get there.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

[wifetomanyfictionalmen]

i have another idea !!

could you possibly do an egon x reader where egon is trying to fix a radio (reader's radio) and they later find out it's possessed, which is how they figure out there's some radio demon possessing all the radios in the city

(this might be inspired by a fic i'm writing with my oc so 👀 i just need the muse)

Oooooo hehehehehe

“Radio static”

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of possession etc

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Egon let out a huff of annoyance at the static coming from your radio. He’d offered to fix it but you just said it was the bad connection in the old Firehouse. As the radio cut out all together you let out a whine and pouted. “Spengieeeee”

He rolled us eyes at the pet name and went over “yes my dove? What seems to be the problem?” You pouted and huffed pointing to your radio “it just completely cut out!” He chuckled and sat beside you with his tools as he took the radio apart. Everything was perfect though, the wiring the boards everything was in order. Egon frowned and hummed gently, putting it back together.

“So what’s wrong with it? Do you think it’s just tired? Or maybe the wiring inside the wax coat is faulty?” You asked tilting your head. He shook his head and an idea popped into his head. He grabbed the P.K.E meter and held it up to the radio. It beeped like crazy the two antennae lifted almost all the way “I think we found our problem…but…this could be serious.”

You tilted your head confused as Egon left the room and went to consult Ray, after he’d been gone for thirty minutes or so you looked back at the radio as it began crackling again, a strained voice spoke out, “free…me” You backed away from it as the radio began moving…actually moving across the work desk. You called out for Egon, softly at first before the moving grew aggressive and the yelling more and more high pitched.

Egon and Ray ran in covering their ears, they dragged you out and Egon rubbed his ears in pain “whatever this is, it’s not just your radio. It’s..most the radios in New York..and if it’s what me and Ray think it is well we need to find the source and quickly.”

You hummed and and tilted your head in thought. Maybe this would be a good time as any to use your connections. You left the room and headed to the Reception Area, asking Janine if you could use the phone. She shrugged and you called up an old friend of yours that worked in the radio station.

“Have all radio stations checked and shut down for a few hours..the Ghostbusters need to run an investigation” your friend was surprised but agreed. Shortly after you hung up there was announcement on the radio telling listeners that radio would be offline while maintenance was carried out. You pressed the button to alarm the boys to come down and briefed them on what you’d done.

“if Egon and Ray are concerned we need to act fast. And don’t try stop me, I’m coming along” You looked at Venkman in particular as you suited up. Luckily Egon was at ease sharing his jumpsuit with you, plus he found out it helped keep you calm. Once you all arrived at the major radio station you headed in and did a full sweep. The P.K.E meter went crazy the moment you stopped outside the biggest radio studio door. You looked at Egon as he nodded and you slowly pushed the door open.

Inside was a tall, thin and pale entity, his breathing was raspy and sounded like static. You both readied your neutron wands and Egon radioed the other three to get upstairs immediately. Once they were all there, you opened the door fully, shooting your blast, holding the entity in place. It struggled against you until Egon shot his blast, securing it while Ray rolled the trap in. As he counted down, you prepared yourself for the opening of the trap, he gave the signal and the trap opened as you and Egon pulled the beams off and the spirit was sucked into the trap. You looked at the closed trap and a grin spread across your face.

“Well..that was…wow” you’d never actually done any of the catching. You’d been the one rolling the trap out or holding the P.K.E meter. This was the first time of many. You grabbed the trap and headed out along with the others where a hoard of news reporters and journalist were waiting. Peter gave an over dramatic speech of sorts and you rolled your eyes “What Dr Venkman means is, radio is coming back soon and we have a very important job to do” you shoved Venkman into the car and got in after him.

The way home was sleepy but peaceful. Once the trap was emptied and everyone all cleaned up and such, you flopped on Egons double bed still in his jumpsuit, minus the boots gloves and other accessories. You were so…worn out but Egon helped you change into one of his tshirts and some jogging bottoms. He kissed your forehead and you dragged him down into bed with you clinging like a koala “Radio static is annoying…” you mumbled sleepily and Egon rubbed your back “agreed” he mumbled and smiled as your soft snores filled the room. “Goodnight my dove”

[salty-croissants]

Rayman/Ramon x anxious fem reader

Thank you @cutegamertv for the request ! I couldn’t seem to find it in my inbox , so I had to use the screenshot I took … sorry for the inconvenience , I don’t know why this happens :,I

Anyway I’ve actually been feeling a bit down these days , so writing this type of comfort scenario really helped a lot :,)👍

Hope it turned out okay ! 

Details : use of female reader ;

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Rayman 🧡

Let’s make one thing clear : Rayman would do anything to make sure that you’re comfortable and happy at all times , and if you ever get the feeling that you’re bothering him by being anxious ? 

Well , he definitely won’t just stand by and watch his beloved even think about such things . 

< y/n , my love , look at me … 

You are , without exaggeration , the most important person in my life : you could never , ever be a burden to me . > 

< But … I know you’re busy , you have so many things to keep track of and I’m … I’m making you waste time over something so … dumb … > 

< Darling , you are much more important to me than anything else .

You’re what helps me keep going every day … the least I could do is be there for you when you need it . > 

If you’re one who gets especially anxious in public spaces , you can bet that Rayman will be coming with you , holding your hand if it helps you feel more at ease or simply staying by your side until you both get back home . 

And if someone says something mean spirited about you , they will quickly be confronted by your very protective boyfriend . 

< How about you leave my y/n alone , pal ? 

Back off ! > 

If you ever were to tell him that you don’t feel worthy of being with someone like him , Rayman is going to be shocked …

He is the lucky one to have someone as amazing as you ! 

Still , you can count on him to have just the right words to comfort you . 

< You are more than enough for me , I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else .

If only I could show you just how beautiful in every way you are to me … > 

Then Rayman always makes sure to shower you with sweet , loving kisses all over your face , as a way to showcase just how much you mean to him : 

you really are his everything ❤️

Ramon 🖤

While he definitely became way more bitter after the events he had to go through , Ramon is still definitely very soft with you , and much like he did in the past he is always looking out for you , making sure you’re okay … 

Also he immediately shuts down any worries you might have about bothering him .

< y/n . There’s literally no way you could ever bother me . 

Don’t even think about that , not for a second . >

< But - > 

< No “buts” . >

Given your fragility , Ramon is going to become even more protective than before over you now , and he won’t hesitate to straight up murder anyone who makes you even a little uncomfortable : 

he won’t accept any compromises , not when your safety is on the line . 

< Everything alright , honey ? I saw that guy approaching you and … > 

< I’m okay Ram , thank you … he was just a bit insistent about getting a drink together , but I’m not hurt or anything , it just … scared me a little . > 

< Tch … well , you can be sure that he won’t think about trying shit like that ever again . > 

< Heh , well you kinda put a bullet through his skull , sweetie … 

That makes it pretty hard for anyone to think . > 

If you bring up the fact that you don’t feel like you’re good enough for him , Ramon will barely even know what to say … 

He feels awful for everything that he allowed Eden to do back when he worked for them , he feels like he doesn’t deserve anything good at all , and certainly not someone like you . The fact that you think that makes him both confused and determined to prove you wrong . 

< y/n , do you have any idea where I would be if I didn’t have you ? 

You literally saved my life : you stuck with me when you knew what I did , you’ve shown me kindness even though I didn’t deserve it … 

If anything , I’m the one who isn’t good enough for you . > 

< Ram don’t say that … you’re amazing and I love you so much … > 

< I love you too sweetheart , I really do … so please , don’t be so hard on yourself , okay ? 

You’re my reason to be alive , I couldn’t go on without you … > 

After all that , you can be sure that Ramon will be cuddling you for hours , demonstrating his seriousness on the matter :

there is no way he will just stand there and watch his beautiful y/n feel like she doesn’t deserve him .