#tacky fridge magnet

[pktechgirlus]

Isn't he glorious?

[anelegaicmind]

Life is a medicine, make sure you drink it

[musicallisto]

or or or!!!!! consider i've been struck with genius and would like to posit an oscar piastri and roommates au.

· · · · ♡ roommate!oscar piastri...

"your roommate's never around," your best friend remarks as she cozies up in front of the laptop on your bed. "what does he even do all day?"

he flies out the country on a random wednesday night, each destination more exotic than the last—"what do you mean you're going to bahreïn? who even goes to bahreïn on a weekday?". he comes back with trinkets, magnets he sticks on the fridge, and horrible horrible tacky shirts from tourist trap shops just to make you snort. he turns every little thing into a competition; who can most effectively arrange the dough on the oven tray to bake the most cookies in one batch... he smiles when you knock on his door to give him back his hoodie—somehow it got lost in your laundry basket, this oversized gray hoodie sporting mclaren on the chest—and he says, "it's okay, keep it. i'll just ask for another one." he talks about australia with a wistful smile, but cackles in delight when you find yet another jar of vegemite hiding in a cupboard. he shrugs when you ask him why he hasn't moved out already, since he clearly has the funds to do so."i quite like living with you, actually."

"he drives," is all you reply.

send me a driver + a concept and i'll give you a moodboard + drabble !

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie has never traveled much. Sure, he'd drive around in his van, sometimes visit Indy, but otherwise he's given up on all the touristy stuff even before he could experience it (as if - an absent mother and a criminal father don't exactly scream VACATION TIME). He finds it silly, all the magnets, postcards. As if one week somewhere else could make a difference.

Enter Steve Harrington, a very dedicated boyfriend with a no bullshit attitude and a payout from yet another government interdimensional (or cross-dimensional?) fuckup. Given how many times he's nearly died, he doesn't exactly feel like saving and investing into his future if it may never come. And so when Eddie's wounds heal, his quiet graduation passes and Hawkins isn't swarmed by monsters for a change, he doesn't ask, simply tells Eddie that his job search will have to wait for 2 weeks or so. He helps him pack a bag, winks at Wayne on his way out (seriously, were they conspiring against him all this time?!) and off to the airport they go.

Eddie has never flown anywhere and boy, is that an experience. After grasping Steve's hand tight enough for his knuckles to go white, he finally relaxes and watches the clouds in child-like awe. Steve is smiling at him from the middle seat, squeezes his hand sometimes. Of course he made sure Eddie would have the window seat. Of course he knows Eddie would find the experience magical.

One uneventful flight and slight migraine scare later, they land, Steve picks up their rented car and drives them both to a small house on the beach. Steve snorts when he sees the separate beds and pushes them together, dropping his own bag on the right mattress. And Eddie just stares, still in disbelief that this is happening, that the local freak and suspected Satanist somehow ended up on a beach vacation with white pillows, so soft it's almost ridiculous, a boyfriend kind (and hot, so goddamn hot!) beyond belief and gentle sound of the waves...

Eddie doesn't really have swimming trunks, Steve didn't really tell him what to pack except that it's going to be mostly warm, but when he tries to apologize to Steve, his boyfriend just laughs, digs in his perfectly organized bag and tosses something black at Eddie's head. When Eddie disentagles it from his face, he finds out it's a pair of trunks with small skulls on them. "Told you, baby," says Steve and presses a gentle kiss into Eddie's cheek. "You don't need to worry about anything this week."

And Eddie doesn't, for the first time in his life he feels absolutely free from everything. When he sees the ocean for the first time, he ends up doing a very undignified splat into the waves and soon finds out that the legends were true, the water is salty and god, it's disgusting. Steve gets them both cheap snorkel masks and they just float next to each other and observe the tiny creatures on the ocean floor. Steve often dives much deeper than Eddie would ever dare to go and brings up small treasures, shells and smooth pebbles. He insists Eddie should only pick the prettiest ones, but Eddie hoards them all. "If they're too heavy when we fly back, I'll just send my bag with you and walk to Hawkins on foot," he says and he might be joking. Might.

In the end, they come back to Hawkins, with Eddie's pale skin slightly red ("I told him he needed sunscreen but did he listen, Wayne? Of course not") and bags full of trinkets that quickly fill the shelves of Eddie and Wayne's new home. Wayne's mug collection grows yet again, he gives a quiet huff of laughter when the boys admit they had a competition to buy the ugliest mug possible, Eddie presents him with a disturbingly realistic seahorse mug and Steve produces a cartoon octopus mug with a sign "SEAS THE DAY". They both groan when Wayne declares it's a tie and proudly displays both.

And if Eddie sneaks to the kitchen during the night to decorate their fridge with a tacky magnet, well, who can blame him? Maybe he'll start a collection too.

[mlm-writer]

Peter Parker & the 5 Love Languages Headcanons

Pairing:  Peter Parker (TASM) x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: General Audience Summary: The Big Tober Day 11 - The 5 Love Languages

Words of affirmation

Peter is not that good at words, he often gets a little tongue-tied. He can’t help it. He is just always enthralled by you and it makes it hard to get the words together. 

Peter also sometimes just doesn’t know what to say. He is really more a man of action. 

He loves to be on the receiving end of it though. His whole face lights up when you praise or compliment him. Words mean a great deal to him, especially since he hangs onto everything you say to him. 

Acts of service

Peter is a big acts of service guy. He would do anything for you, especially helping you with college work. He has this big brain anyway, what better use for it than helping you?

Peter would clean your apartment if you’re going through shit. 

Peter doesn’t like being on the receiving end of this very much. He is prone to feeling like a burden. Sure he appreciates it, but too much makes him uncomfortable and it is too much real quick. 

When he is sick and you offer to take care of him, he will accept, but he must and shall repay the favour or he will feel bad about it. 

Gifts

Peter will mostly give flowers, but when he has been on a trip without you, you can bet on a tacky souvenir. 

Favourite gifts are t-shirts, snowglobes and fridge magnets. 

When you give him something, he will cherish it each time. 

Peter keeps everything you give him in a box or puts it on display or uses it daily. He loves to show off whatever you give him as well. He is just so cute about it. 

Quality time

One of Peter’s favourites. Just being together makes him happy. 

Peter also loves trying new things with you. Tinkering with left-over components is one of his favourite things to do, but he also likes to cook with you or bake. 

Pottery workshop was one of the favourite things you did together. 

Peter is a bit clingy. He wants to have quality time all the time. 

Physical touch

Ultimate favourite!!!

Like I said Peter is a little clingy and this extends to physically clingy. 

Why do you think he likes swinging together? 

It's all about the hand holding, comforting hugs and cuddles on the couch while bingeing something. 

Peter also needs that reassure sometimes that you are unharmed. He lives a dangerous life and he needs that physical confirmation that you're alive and safe in his arms. 

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

[salvadorbonaparte]

Okay. Positivity time. I'm seeing my friend again for the first time since November 2022. We're seeing our favourite band together for the second time. I'm travelling to Scotland for the first time and we'll see at least two different cities. There's a small chance that we might be able to see some puffins. I will buy a tacky fridge magnet for our collection.

[wri0thesley]

intimate knowledge for diluc and nanamin pls

intimate knowledge ୧ ‧₊˚ what are some hidden features of ur fﾉo that not many people are privy to ? things like a secret birthmark, the fact that they are ambidextrous, the bump on their nose that is actually the result of breaking it as a child. do these small facts about them fascinate u ? do the stories behind them make u swoon for them even more, if possible ?

diluc is a gardener; when he gives me bouquets, they are ones he cultivated himself. he sings to his plants in a low baritone and gets embarrassed if anybody hears him, the tips of his ears going red. he has a sprinkling of freckles across his nose - but they’re on his hips, too. his shoulders. his back. he has plenty of scars from training as a knight but he also has some from childish misadventures with kaeya; climbing too high walls, rescuing lost toys from a group of slimes in the woods. he baby talks to his falcon. he feeds all of the stray cats around angel’s share; he gets worried when familiar ones stop stopping by.

nanami has a beautiful voice that he only lets a few people hear. he has a collection of pompompurin themed underwear that i gave him and though he pretends to be above it, the first year i didn’t get him a pair for his birthday he got a little sulky. he volunteers to cook at homeless shelters during holidays. he buys a tacky magnet from every place he visits and puts them on his fridge. he pretends to only drink black coffee but whenever we visit cutesy cafes he orders the sugariest whipped cream concoction on the menu.

self ship asks!

[no1frogfan]

Impending, part 3

Matsukawa Issei x afab reader

Word count: ~3.4k

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v. There is cum. Pubes exist in this world. A little angst, pining, guilt, and desperation (my four favorite flavors).

Note: Finally finished this mini-series. The word counts have grown too much each time, but what can I say? — I want him emotionally, spiritually, biblically.

part 1 | part 2

You can’t stay in bed forever.

Probably.

Not unless you can convince Hiro to bring you something for dinner, but that’s never going to happen.

A particularly angry gurgle from your stomach makes you roll out of bed and pick your way to the kitchen. The tackiness of your skin is proof you made the right choice to sleep the day away. Summers are always stifling, and the humidity lingers even after the sun has set, preventing the air from dropping to comfortable temperatures.

A cool gust from the fridge provides a welcome relief, though it’s unfortunate the shelves are empty. That’s the worst part of being at home — the isolation. The trees and hills are beautiful, even the warbling of the birds at 4am is nice, but grocery stores and restaurants are few and far between. You could walk to the ancient ramen place a few streets down, or the sukiyaki place a few streets up, but neither sound at all appealing in this heat.

“Did mom and dad leave us anything for dinner?” You shout toward the open basement door.

No answer.

“I know you can hear me.”

You can’t see the middle finger Makki holds up. “I’m getting pizza later.”

“Can we order now? I’m starving,” you pad downstairs with a whine.

Sprawled on the couch, Hiro is sporadically illuminated by some anime show on tv. While you don’t recognize it, you can at least pick out the white-haired guy Hiro likes landing a couple of (over)dramatic punches on a black-haired guy.

“How are you even hungry? You’ve just been sleeping all day.”

Your brother doesn’t take his eyes off the tv where the black-haired one finally managed to dodge, and now the white-haired one is strategizing (at length) about his next move.

“You’re one to talk! As if you’ve mov-”

“I’m hungry too,” a deep baritone chimes in seemingly from below you.

You leap back with a yelp, squinting into the darkness at your feet. Out of the shadows, Issei’s form slowly takes shape. Honestly, you’re shocked you didn’t step on him.

“That’s not what you said 5 minutes ago,” Makki grumbles, but picks up his phone to place the order.

Issei shrugs, reaching his arm out toward you.

You dodge beyond his fingertips and beat a hasty retreat back up the stairs, calling out over your shoulder, “order me a Hawaiian pizza.”

“No way in hell. That’s disgusting.”

Fake retching sounds follow you to the top.

The cold spray of the shower is calming, necessary even, to wash the stickiness from your skin and quiet your frazzled nerves.

That happened almost a week ago, and seeing him in your house every day has only made things more fraught. While you haven’t exactly been avoiding Issei, you haven’t tried to talk to him either. For your brother’s sake you should probably make clear that it was a mistake; one that will never happen again. You could blame it on the beer or the weed, but the truth is, Issei plagues your thoughts even while sober — his breath hot on your neck, fingertips digging into the fat of your hips, the utter fullness when he pushed into you.

Before that night, the image of him as a gawky preteen was all your mind could conjure up. But now… Your fingers aren’t enough to relieve the pressure anymore.

Your encounter unleashed some latent magnetic field, prickling your senses and hopelessly drawing you toward him at every turn. You welcome his attention more than you care to admit, so, unsurprisingly, it’s been hard not to make it weird, and harder not to second-guess every single interaction these days. Since when did he know your favorite snacks? Did he used to stare at you so much? Had he always been this touchy?

Or is he just hoping for a repeat of the other night?

The possibility stirs up both anxiety and relief. Except for the teeny, tiny detail of being your little brother’s best friend — you know, the one person outside of family that Hiro places 100% of his trust in — Issei would top your list of fuck buddies (and if you’re honest, maybe even more than that).

What’s been most confusing is that Issei doesn’t seem bothered, and you’re not sure why that irritates you so much. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy who would treat you like a notch in his bedpost, but then again, best friend’s sibling is a perennially popular porn trope for a reason. Surely he’s not immune.

None of that really matters though. Hiro’s been acting strange lately, like he knows something’s up. Half the time, he books it out of a room as soon as you walk in. God knows how he’d react if he found out what happened. Issei said he wouldn’t care, but how true is that? You try to imagine how you’d feel if one of your friends told you they’d slept with Hiro, and you can’t help but be…one, grossed out because you really don’t want to think about it. And two, well…protective, angry maybe. He might be an ass, but he’s still your brother, and you’d never do anything to actually hurt him.

A knock breaks into your anxious musings.

It’s then you notice you’re standing vacantly in the middle of your room. Somehow, you’d finished showering and walked back while lost in thought.

“Go away!”

Hiro is the last person you want to talk to right now; especially not before you can get your thoughts under control.

Footsteps shuffle away, but instead of the telltale creak of the stairs, they pause, then turn back toward the door.

The door jiggles and clicks open.

“What part of-”

Except it’s not Hiro. It’s Issei.

His audacity dumbfounds you, but only for a second.

“The hell?! Get out!”

Hesitation flickers across his face but he takes a step forward.

“Can we talk?”

“NO.” You wrap the towel tighter around yourself.

When he doesn’t move, you reiterate the point by whirling on your heels and stomping toward the dresser. The underwear drawer suddenly captures your full attention, and you rummage through it with single-minded focus.

The door shuts behind you with another click, and you let out a shaky breath.

The relief is short-lived.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Goosebumps break out all over your skin at his words.

“That’s not true.”

The lavender scent of your shampoo tickles his nose. With you faced resolutely away, he steps closer and allows his eyes to sweep over the droplets gleaming across your shoulders.

“No?”

His lips brush against the base of your neck, and whatever retort you had fizzles on your tongue.

“Issei,” you whimper, “you said you wanted to talk.”

You lean back into his touch and feel him grin against the juncture of your neck. His hands, big and warm and firm, slide up under the towel to knead at your soft thighs, rapidly emptying your brain.

He gives you a gentle nudge toward the bed.

“I don’t think we should do this,” you protest, but your lack of conviction is apparent in how eagerly you obey, practically tripping over yourself to perch on the edge of the mattress.

He raises one thick eyebrow. “Why?”

“Hiro’s going to find out.”

Issei unbuttons his shirt with unhurried movements, unveiling the smooth musculature of his chest. Its slopes and dips are made more dramatic thanks to the yellow-orange light of the single desk lamp. You swallow thickly, eyes drawn to the sharp cut of his collarbones and the faded scar on his right hip.

“Makki knows. He doesn’t care.”

His shorts and underwear quickly land in a pile on the floor.

Even in the harsh light, his dick is nothing short of mouth-watering. A pretty flush tip sits enticingly over its thick, veiny length. Coarse hairs curl tightly at the base, trimmed short to reveal more of him.

He kneels and shuffles forward to tug the towel from your clutch, uttering an appreciative groan before he tosses it aside.

“Fuck, just look at you.”

Your objections devolve into gasping moans when he pushes you back to lay open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down your chest, sluggishly mouthing over your hips, down the tops of your legs and back up, licking a stripe along the tender skin of your inner thigh as he splays your legs up and out. He dives in to suck on your clit and you almost choke.

Your entire body tenses with pleasure when he starts to lap at you. But it’s the way he meets your gaze with hooded eyes — intoxicated from a single taste — that kickstarts the last ounce of resistance left in your body.

“Issei, if you- fuck that’s ahhh- you’re just looking to get your dick wet…”

That stills his tongue. Even though you’re the one protesting, you can’t help but whine now that he’s actually stopped.

“That’s not…” He frowns, a mixture of your juices and his saliva glistening on his chin. In one fluid motion, Issei slides you off the bed and onto his lap. A shudder runs through him when his erection glides against your folds, though it doesn’t distract him.

“Is that what you think this is?”

You’re not sure what answer he’s looking for, so you stay silent, head turned to avoid his eyes.

He scrutinizes you for what seems like an age. How could you not know? All the times he’s tried to impress you? All the things he’s done in the hopes you’ll notice him? All the years he’s trailed behind you — to your house, to university, and even to Sendai?

“Do you remember when your parents made you start watching us after school?”

Your face scrunches in confusion at the change in topic, but he’s insistent.

“Do you remember? Right after you started high school?”

“Ok…yeah,” you indulge, “I remember. I’d just joined photography club and had to quit like a month later. I was pissed — they’d never cared about leaving us home alone before so I didn’t understand why I had to babysit you guys.”

“They didn’t actually care. I made up some lie — I don’t even remember what it was now — to convince my parents we needed a sitter. I figured they’d make you do it, and they did.”

You look up in confusion. Is he…blushing?

“And in eighth grade, when I needed help with math… I actually bombed my tests on purpose for a month because I knew my parents would ask you.”

Wait… “Was that what your fights were about?”

Hiro and Issei were thick as thieves, the only exceptions being in your first and last years of high school. Their fights got heated too, though neither ever told you what set them off, no matter how many times you tried to pry it out of them. The second time, Issei didn’t come over for almost a month afterward (you remember because you had to go to his house to tutor him) but things always eventually went back to normal.

Issei huffs a soft chuckle. “Yeah, Makki figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“It’s not obvious?” Issei drops his head onto your shoulder with something between a groan and a laugh. “I liked you. A lot. I still do.”

He admits it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. Like he and Hiro haven’t kept this secret for over a decade. Like it’s hardly a confession at all.

For once, you’re the one struggling to keep up.

“Wait…you like me?”

You feel a muffled snort. “That’s literally what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

“And Hiro’s…not mad? But he’s been acting so weird lately,” you point out.

“Oh that. He keeps trying to ‘give us space’ or something. I told him to cool it.”

“Oh.” Huh. Maybe it was obvious. You were just too worried about Hiro to notice that every time he flew out of a room with some flimsy excuse, you were left alone with Issei. Issei, who you like more than you expected. Who’s had a crush on you for more than a decade. Whose lap you’re currently nestled in, naked.

“Does that mean we can…” You shift, jerking when your clit catches his spongy tip.

He laughs, grinding his hips up to meet you.

“We sure can.”

You’re still wet, really wet, you’re reminded when your pussy glides against him, and getting more aroused by the second as Issei stares, mesmerized by the slick trail you leave along the length of his cock.

His hands slide down to give your ass an excited squeeze before lifting you up onto the edge of the bed.

Dextrous fingers part your puffy lips as he rests his cheek against your thigh, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt. He thumbs lightly at your clit and heaves a sigh of contentment when your hips buck in response.

“Didn’t get to enjoy this last time.”

You bite back a moan when he slides one long finger into you. It reaches deep, and you squirm in encouragement when he sinks a second one in. He works them nimbly, curling and scissoring them while rolling your clit, breaking you down into a whiny mess in seconds, until you’re dripping down his wrists and onto the sheets.

You’re so distracted by his fingers that you don’t notice him dive in, just feel his lips wrap around your clit with a slurp. He licks and sucks at you eagerly, and you can only gasp and writhe, trying to steady yourself with a fist in his soft wavy hair. The walls echo with your cries mingled with Issei’s enthusiastic groans and the wet suction of your cunt around his fingers.

It catches you by surprise when you cum, cresting fast and hard, pulling your body taut and whiting out your vision. Before you realize it, you’re already quaking with aftershocks, trying to twist away from the overwhelming sensation of him licking and suckling dreamily as you come down.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, he makes a show of sucking them clean, stroking himself as he smirks up at you.

He pushes himself up off the floor and god, fuck. He’s irresistible, his cock bobbing heavily between his legs as he gets on his hands and knees above you.

Issei leans down, humming happily when he wraps his mouth around your right nipple. He massages your chest with one hand and grips his cock with the other to smear his tip along your sopping pussy.

It feels good, but you squirm and push at his shoulders. “Want you in my mouth,” you beg.

He placates you with a hungry kiss. “Next time, ok? Next time. I can barely- I don’t think I can last long,” he admits wryly, “but next time we’ll do anything you want.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in anticipation when he lines himself up.

He pushes in slowly, first the fat mushroom tip, then the whole thick length of him, rocking himself in, out, in, inch by inch until he’s pressed flush against you. Issei groans when your face contorts with pleasure. The stretch is incredible. He stuffs you so full, finally hitting that place you’ve been unable to reach.

He takes things slow. Too slow. He wasn’t able to savor you before, but he’s not about to make the same mistake again. His long, languid strokes are just enough to have you grinding against him in frustration with every thrust.

“Let me enjoy this for a minute,” he rasps.

His hands trail restlessly across your body, caressing and squeezing every inch of skin he can reach. He kisses his way down your neck to roll his tongue around your nipple, biting and sucking one before moving to the other, and back again.

After what feels like hours, your patience finally gives out.

You smack him hard on the ass. “Issei! Fuck me already.”

That jolts his hips into action. The length of his body is laid on top of you, pinning your legs up against your shoulders as he pistons into you with surprising force. Wet slaps alternate with the loud squeak of the mattress.

You begin to quiver, your whole body shaking as the heat builds in your core. He reaches deep, so so deep, making you wail every time he bumps your clit and his cock hits that perfect spot inside of you over and over again.

“Ohhh- fuck, Issei please I’m-”

He barely has time to blink before you’re falling apart at the seams again. Wave after blinding wave of ecstasy crash over you, relentless.

Your pussy clenches hard, gripping his cock so firmly he can barely move. Not a second later, he pulls out with a shout. Through hazy eyes, you see his mouth drop open. He fists his cock only once before his body stiffens, convulsing as jets of hot cum shoot out to land on your cheeks, shoulders, chest, stomach, dribbling out to coat your pubes, before finally leaving him twitching.

The room fills with hoarse pants.

You laugh weakly at the mess. “Wow, you came a lot.”

“I think I almost blacked out,” he croaks.

With great effort, he pushes himself off the bed and returns with the box of tissues from your desk. He cleans you up with care, just like last time.

“I wanted to last longer,” he mumbles, pressing a sheepish kiss to your sternum before collapsing on you, pinning you down with his weight.

It does something funny to your heart to witness him like this, so different from his usual confidence.

“Next time,” you assure him.

“Next time?” He looks up, almost reverent.

“Yeah.” You smile and brush the damp curls away from his eyes.

Next time. He breaks out in an obnoxious grin. There’s going to be a next time. And if there’s a next time, there might be a time after that.

“You won’t even need to introduce me to your parents.”

You snort. “Ok, pump the brakes.”

When you finally make your way back to the kitchen (with Issei practically holding you up as you wobbled), you find one Hawaiian pizza and two-thirds of a pepperoni pizza sitting on the counter.

Issei loads up a plate for you both before heading down to the basement. You grab some cold beers and follow suit, pausing in the doorway to take a few calming breaths.

You don’t hear any yelling or scuffling — a positive sign. Hopefully, that means Hiro isn’t too angry.

You take one wary step, then another.

When you reach the bottom, your eyes hesitantly find Hiro’s. There’s an uneasy moment when he frowns at you from where he’s seated on the floor before he gives you a curt nod. It’s stiff, but definitely not angry, not even upset.

Your shoulders untense.

Issei waves you over to the couch where he settles you securely in his lap, his arms encircling your waist. You cast another wary glance at Hiro who just rolls his eyes.

“Glad you’re finally done ‘getting some water,’” Makki snipes. “I’ve been waiting forever to start the next episode.”

“I’m definitely not thirsty anymore if you know what I mean.” Mattsun wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Hiro’s face twists, revolted. “Ugh- I- ugh god, I don’t want to think about-” he sputters. His eyes flick to where Issei’s hands grope at your thighs and ass. “Whoa, ok rule number one: not when I’m right here. And rule number two-” there’s an uncomfortable pause before he mutters, “keep it down next time.”

Mattsun’s not at all chagrined. In fact, he puffs out his chest proudly.

You, on the other hand, shrink in absolutely mortification. Right when Issei opens his mouth to make another (probably vulgar) retort, you shove a slice of pizza in…with a little more force than you intended.

He chokes in surprise and your brother lets out a mean snicker. “Perfect timing! Serves you right.”

You expect him to continue bickering with Hiro, but Issei instead flashes you a dopey grin. “Thank you baby,” he says sweetly, muffled though it is by a mouthful of food.

The gleeful smirk drops right off Makki’s face and he whirls back toward the tv with a loud gag.

“You’re welcome,” you giggle. Your brain’s still playing catch-up with everything that’s happened today, but you think you like where this is heading.

[andofone]

SNS fic rec

I have found lots of SNS fics that I think deserve even more love and recognition, so buckle in and here we go!

-PS, if you don’t want your fic on this list, I will take it off.

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O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou an idiot? by Skyheaven

Naruto thought he could impress his crush by landing the role of Romeo in their school play. With Sakura playing Juliet, it would be the perfect way to get close to her. So how is it that he ended up being forced to play the modern version titled Romeo and Julian with his arch rival Sasuke instead?

(It’s a full, flushed out fic. It was a joy to read through)

-

(This is part two - a POV change to see what Sasuke is thinking, I strongly recommend reading after the first.)

And Julian is the moon by Skyheaven.

Ever wonder what Sasuke went through when he got stuck playing the romantic lead together with Naruto in their school play about Romeo and Julian? Here's the answer.

A pov change of the fic 'Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou an idiot?'

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The Frog Dealer by lilypheria

Naruto’s trusty frog wallet breaks down after years of faithful service, and someone delivers a new one to his office. Naruto is elated, not caring if it’s proper for the Seventh Hokage of Konoha to wander around with a wallet like that. But then he starts to get even more deliveries to his office—frog-shaped keychains, fridge magnets, everything you can think of.

Naruto has no clue who has found out about his affection towards frogs. But the gift giver is closer than he thinks…

(It’s a adorable one-shot. What else could you possibly want.)

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Unrequited: sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't by KizuKatana

Naruto hates to hurt people's feelings. So when Hinata puts him on the spot about dating her, he doesn't want to come straight out and tell her he doesn't like her that way. Instead, he comes up with a poorly thought out idea to tell her he is dating someone already. All he needs to do to convince her is to show her a photo of the guy. He just needs to get a picture of someone so ridiculously hot she will know it's hopeless. He actually has someone in mind, a guy he'd had a one-sided thing for from his gym. Although, the guy is sort of an ass and probably wouldn't agree to posing for a picture. Naruto decides to ask him anyway. What's he got to lose?

(Another wonderful, simple one-shot. Easy and very nice to digest.)

---

In Good Company by weialala

This will sound a little ridiculous, no matter how Sasuke phrases it. I see dead people is embarrassingly tacky, and I'm half-spirit seems like something Sakura might say when she's stoned sky high. So he settles for a shrug.

(This is a gem of a fic. Highly recommend.)

---

Iced coffee with extra base by Dotec_1

Working in a cafe certainly isn’t the worst thing, that is if you find a certain raven a few tables down.

(Not too long, just 25,000 words and a good plot.)

---

Fire & Wind by Cyllia

Wind and fire: it's the most powerful combination of elements there was. So when Sasuke, the most talented fire elementalist in his year, pairs with Naruto, who has the greatest air element seen in centuries, they should've been the most formidable team in history. Yet they can't seem to win one match.

(OH MY GOD, okay, this has got to be one of my favorites on this list. And these are all some of my favorite.)

---

all i want to do, just like this by lunoiere (aeon_uriel)

"Good morning," he whispered, content, and peaceful. 

Naruto's nose twitched, still asleep. His lips were pursed to form a pout that somehow looked even more childish in this state. 

Sasuke's smile got wider and wider and something in his chest bloomed and exploded.

 Unbidden, a thought passed by: he loved that man so much it was unreal. 

Sasuke gets another reminder that waking up with arms around his waist and the smell of sunshine filling his lungs means opening his eyes to yet another good dream.(Because Naruto is there and he’s never leaving.)

---

 I hope this gives you some good reads!

And if you want more, check out another SNS rec I created here

[fic-over-cannon]

every time jason travels for work he comes home with a souvenir for you. like a snow globe, or a piece of fine china, or a corny t-shirt. and even if he’s been to a place dozens of times he’ll still come back with something. you have shelves and shelves of miscellaneous items that to anyone else seem like knick knacks you can’t let go of. but really they’re just confirmations that jason thinks of you when you’re apart. (not that you had any doubt about that though)

oh you cannot do this to me ro. just the casual intimacy of letting someone know that you’re thinking about them. that you’re on their mind constantly enough that they make connections between you and the world around them.

jason sending you postcards when he’s away longer than a few days to let you know he’s okay and thinking of you. developing a game where the postcards hint at what your present is going to be. the fridge is covered in postcards from around the world, overlapping and forcing you to buy stronger magnets (the first time a postcard fell off the fridge from a weak magnet, jason brought back tacky tourist themed magnets on his next four trips. he replaces the magnetic backings with stronger ones so now they’re functional and memorable).

jason brings you back little figurines and china plates. these knick knacks don’t get stored away behind cold glass but incorporated into everyday life. your morning tea mug is a memory of a trip jason took to Croatia. the pasta serving dish a souvenir from Rome. a frog statue from Thailand holds your rings. a friend asks where you got the painting hanging in your living room and you get the joy of telling them that jason brought it back for you from a market in Tehran.

just jason constantly seeing traces of you in the world around him and bringing those pieces back home to you.

[strawberryshortpace]

Once his housemates find out about Jean’s broken magnets they try their hardest to find the closest matches available to buy, they take pottery classes to try and remake any missing chunks, whenever they pass a tacky gift-shop (especially when traveling for games) they drag Jean over to the magnets to pick one out, and of course their fridge ends up absolutely filled with all of them

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

A Hunting Trip (Part 4)

pairing: dean winchester x reader x damon salvatore

synopsis: a crash course in self defence  - *yn* finally tells dean and sam what's been going on in mystic falls. dean takes it upon himself to make sure she can keep herself safe.

warnings: fluff, angst, swearing

notes: i love this chappy so much, am so happy to be back writing x

Series Masterlist

"Just this one here."

Dean followed *yn*'s index finger to guide the impala into the driveway.

*yn* still couldn't believe that John had given Dean his car.

"Oh great, here come the million and one questions." Dean grumbled.

The rumbling engine must have alerted Sam, because he was already hurrying down the porch steps towards them. The two hopped out of the impala just as Sam reached the car.

"Where the hell have you been?" He threw his hands up in the air before perching them on his hips. His gaze firm as he glanced between the two, much like a stern mother.

"Why don't you just calm down and hold your questions till we get inside detective." Dean responded. Definitely not the right thing to say.

"Calm down?" Sam looked at him in disbelief. "I thought something had happened, you weren't answering your cell and *yn* was being all cryptic on the phone."

"Well we're here now and in one piece." Dean gestured between him and *yn*. "Although slightly traumatised."

"I'm going to explain everything, come on." *yn* patted Sam's shoulder in apology before moving past the boys to scale the porch staircase.

Sam shot Dean one last unimpressed look which Dean pretended to not see as they followed after *yn*.

"So this is your place huh?" Dean asked her as she slid her key into the front door.

"Yep, home sweet home."

The house was unexpectedly sparse. A single couch and small television occupied the living room. There was no art or pictures on the walls. Dean could see a film of dust coating the small coffee table that stood at the entrance.

It was like no one lived here.

She poked her head out of the door, scanning the quiet suburban street once more. Dean turned to look at her at the sound of the soft click of the lock sliding into place.

"I really doubt that lock's going to do much good if one of your friends wants to get in."

"Vamps can't enter a home unless they're invited in by the owner." She shot back as she placed her keys on the entry table.

"Smart ass." She grumbled under her breath as she shrugged off her jacket.

"I don't need super vamp hearing to hear you, you know." Dean remarked as his eyes slid over every inch of the house.

"I'm sorry, did you just say vampires?"

"Oh you have so much to catch up on Sammy." Dean patted his shoulder as the brothers followed *yn* down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Take a seat, you guys want something to drink?" *yn* gestured to the dining table.

"We're fine thanks."

Sam's brows had started to do that twitchy thing they did when he was anxious.

Dean turned to look at his brother incredulously. "Speak for yourself." He turned to *yn*. "I'll take anything that even slightly resembles alcohol."

She nodded knowingly, "that I can definitely do."

Dean's eyes fell on the open fridge door as *yn* disappeared behind it.

For the first time since they'd stepped foot in this place, there was evidence that someone lived here. Photos stuck under tacky mystic fall magnets were strewn haphazardly over the door's surface. He could make out photos of her and Elena in cheer uniforms and a few others with people that he had recognised around town. One of her and Damon laughing was front and centre.

None of her dad, or him and Sam, or anyone from her childhood for that matter.

"Will this do?"

Dean quickly averted his gaze as *yn* popped her head around, two bottles of beer on show.

"That'll do perfectly." A grin appeared on her face as she shut the door with her foot and came over to sit with the pair at the table.

Dean thanked her with a nod as she slid the bottle over to him. Sam looked like he was about to combust as he watched the pair take a sip from their drinks.

The silence stretched on. For the first time a look of uneasiness crossed *yn*'s features as she placed the bottle down onto the oak.

"I don't really know where to start."

The admission seemed to soften Sam's urgency. As she sat in front of them and fiddled with her fingers, it was like they were suddenly back in a hotel room, waiting for their dads to finish a hunt. Like they were trying to pretend that they were normal, even for a few hours.

"The beginning seems like a good place." His words were gentle as he studied the girl in front of him.

She bit her lip and glanced at the clock on the wall opposite her.

"Take your time, we want to know everything." Dean was the one who spoke this time, and even he had taken himself by surprise at how calm he sounded.

What was more surprising was that *yn* didn't shoot back with a sarcastic remark or roll her eyes. Instead, a grateful look flashed across her features as she nodded.

"Ok."

So, the beginning was where she started. She told them everything, from the day that her dad died to when they'd shown up. About how it was a regular job and he'd been taken by a nasty spirit and the next thing she knew, she was being moved from home to home.

She told them about vampires and werewolves and witches and dopplegangers. About humanity switches and sunlight and stakes. She told them about the Founder's Council, about the Salvatores. She told them about Katherine and the tomb vampires. She told them about Klaus, about his obsession with making an army of hybrids. She told them about the original family and the coffins, about Stefan's fixation on getting revenge on Klaus.

She did decide to leave some details out, mainly about Damon's less... morally ok decisions and the people that her friends had killed along the way. But she did tell them about her friends, about her new family, about Alaric and Sheriff Forbes, about the bonds that they had all created during this time. About the fact that she was going to a real high school now, with real teachers and real prospects of college.

The whole time their eyes did not leave her. They nodded, smiled, grimaced (a lot) and asked questions occasionally. But there was not one moment where they were not one hundred percent focussed on her. And as she talked, *yn* realised just how desperate she was to tell someone outside her mystic falls circle about what was happening. Someone from her past. Someone who could understand and sympathise with just how messed up her life had been.

As she talked, it was like she could visualise the bonds of their relationship slowly begin to repair after so many years of disuse.

"And, I think that pretty much brings it up to today."

She could feel the brothers' eyes on her as she brought the bottle to her lips and finished the remnants of the liquor in one foul gulp.

"I uh-" She watched as Sam cleared his throat, his eyes darting to look at Dean before turning to her.

"I think I'll take that beer now."

A soft smile presented itself on her lips. The chair scraped against the floor. The sound bounced off the bare walls.

"It's a lot to process."

Dean watched as *yn* disappeared behind the fridge door once more.

"If it hadn't happened to me I wouldn't have believed it." Dean's eyes never left the photos plastered in front of him as he spoke.

"So what, he literally just locked eyes with you and like... mind controlled you or some crap?"

"It's called compulsion, and yes that's what they do." *yn* corrected Sam as she made her way back to the table.

"Right sorry, he compelled you to just do whatever he wanted?"

"Pretty much yeah."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Dean shrugged. "And if you ingest that herb you were taking about- varvin?" He continued.

"Vervain. And here." Sam raised a brow but still muttered a thank you as he took the beer and a bottle of water from her outstretched palm.

Upon closer inspection he noted the strange herb swirling around in the bottle, making the water slightly discoloured.

"It doesn't taste bad." *yn* commented when she noticed the sceptical look on his features.

"Bottoms up Sammy." Dean clapped him on the shoulder as Sam unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips.

"And this really works?" He asked once he'd taken a large gulp of the liquid.

"You don't have to ingest it. You can wear it in something like a necklace and that will protect you too." She raised her wrist to reveal a bracelet dangling from her wrist.

"Me personally, I like to do both because if they yank it off you, you're screwed. Best to cover all your bases. You can incorporate into all sorts of weapons too, the stuff's a nightmare for them."

Her eyes darted between the brothers and raised a brow when she noted the looks on their features.

"What?"

"Nothing it's just uh-" Sam cleared his throat and glanced at Dean out of his peripheral. "I'm a bit confused as to why you're telling us all of this stuff. Given a lot of your friends are..."

"Vampires? You can say it." *yn* mused as she twisted the cap off her second beer. "And yes, they are my friends. But so are you. And unfortunately most vampires aren't as nice. I want you guys to be protected."

"You might want to consider getting better friends if that's what you consider friendly." Dean muttered under his breath.

"Given I'm in a generous mood, I'll choose to ignore that." Her answer made the side of Dean's lips twitch up into a smirk.

"Lucky me."

The pair locked eyes as *yn* brought the glass to her lips. He was taunting her, dangling his words in front of her like bait on a hook. Begging her to take a bite.

Her instincts were screaming at her, the words literally falling off the edge of her tongue. But the knowledge that she had to convince them to leave town was what prevented them from falling off the precipice.

"So you guys going to tell me why John's left you to fend for yourselves or what?"

"Oh come on." She continued when she saw them exchange looks. "Given I've just trauma dumped on you guys I think it's only fair you both tell me what you've been up to."

"We'd been hunting together for a few years and then he went on a trip." Dean spoke after a few moments. "And he didn't come back."

Trust Dean to include all the important details.

"That was when Dean came to get me from Stanford and-"

"Woah wait Stanford, as in Stanford University?" *yn* cut him off, her eyes growing wide.

"Uh yeah, I was studying law there."

"Sam that's amazing oh my god." *yn* breathed out, a grin spreading across her lips as she studied him.

"Thanks, I guess." Sam ducked his head down as a smile spread across his lips, unable to hide himself as her excited energy seeped into him.

"Don't be so fucking modest you dork." She laughed, "we always knew you were the nerd of the group."

She didn't miss the way Dean's small smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he studied his brother.

"John must have been really proud."

She instantly knew that she had hit a nerve when Sam's smile faltered, anger flashing across his features briefly before he regained his composure.

"Something like that."

Tension pulsated through the room as Dean pursed his lips at Sam's words. *yn* could almost see the wall go up between them.

Jesus what had she missed while she was gone?

"Anyway." Sam cleared his throat. "We went looking for him, to the town we knew he was working a job."

"No dad but there was a job. Spirit, nasty bitch too." Dean remarked, shaking his head and taking a deep drink of his beer at the memory.

"Dean dropped me back home and when I got there-" Sam looked down, a lump in his throat as he felt a rush of heat, like those flames were still licking at him, burning him from the inside.

"Jess, Sam's girlfriend, she was uh- well- she died just like our mum did."

A pregnant pause filled the room. *yn* blinked rapidly as she tried to process the information.

"Like, the exact way-"

The boys nodded solemnly.

"Fuck." She exhaled as she studied Sam. She fought the urge to reach over and take his hand.

"Jesus Sam, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks *yn*." A sad smile flitted across his features. He was unable to hide the anguish in his eyes. She knew he blamed himself for his girlfriends death. He was a Winchester, they were masters of self flagellation.

"Ever since then we've been trying to find dad."

"So what, he just took off without a word and you haven't heard from him since?" *yn* found it hard to believe that he would leave his sons without an explanation. Then again, it was John Winchester, he wasn't ever exactly going to win father of the year award.

"I've spoken to him, he gave me coordinates of another job." Dean answered her.

"That was it? No explanation of where he is?"

"That was it." No matter how good his poker face was, even Dean couldn't conceal the resentment on his face from her.

"We think he's got a lead on the thing that killed mum and that he doesn't want us involved." Sam explained.

"Right." *yn* nodded. "All the more reason for you to keep trying to find him then."

Dean's lips twitched, "trying to shake us already huh?"

"You are a pain in the ass..." She teased, "But it's not like that. I'd love for you to stay.. but you can't. It's not safe."

The mood visibly shifted. Dean's jaw tightened at her words, the veins in his hand protruding as he gripped the beer bottle. She could feel him shutting down already. So instead, she leant forward in her chair and locked eyes with Sam, praying that she could at least get through to him.

"Look, it won't take Klaus long to find out you're hunters. He probably already knows. And you two could be the best hunters in the entire fucking world, you still wouldn't have a chance against an original vampire."

She shifted her imploring gaze to Dean, swallowing the lump in her throat when he refused to meet her gaze.

"I've already lost my dad, I'm not losing you two." She twisted her fingers around each other as she tried to keep her voice steady and calm.

"You need to go and find your dad."

"Well that's ironic." Dean chuckled humourlessly.

*yn* frowned at his words. "What are you talking about?"

"He led us right to you."

"He's been leaving us clues - coordinates." Sam clarified when he saw her confusion.

"In his journal and stuff. There was a whole section on Mystic Falls, about all the mysterious animal attacks and missing persons."

"You think he knew?" Her question illicited a shrug.

"He knew something supernatural was going on. Hard to say if he suspected vampires."

She nodded, her mind was now racing even faster than it already had been. Not only did she have to worry about Klaus, but she also had to worry about word getting out in the hunter community about what was going on here.

"You have his journal?"

Sam nodded. "I'll go get it."

All she could do now was see what sort of information John had collected, what was available for hunters to find that would lead them to the town.

Dean wordlessly fished out his keys and handed them to Sam. His green eyes locked with hers as he did so, and *yn* swore he could read her mind in that moment.

She pushed the chair back, letting it scrape loudly on the wood. She could feel Dean's eyes still on her as she disappeared from view to pull open the storage cupboard under the staircase that led up to the second floor.

The shoe box was in plain sight. She reached up on her tippy toes and plucked it from the top shelf. Stepping out from underneath the stairs allowed her to examine it in the natural light.

It was tattered from age, the nike logo faded and discoloured. A layer of dust encased it. It was heavier than she remembered.

She placed it down gently onto the dining room table. Dean looked at her quizzically as she pulled off the lid. Particles of dust launched at her face, almost as if they were angry for being disturbed after so long.

"I saw you looking at my photos on the fridge." She spoke as she pushed the box towards Dean.

"You think I don't have photos of my dad, of you."

She watched as Dean brought the box closer to himself and peered inside.

"I didn't want to have to explain who any of you were to people who asked."

It also pained her to look at them.

He pulled out a stack of old photographs as she sat down once more. Her eyes never left his face, trying to gage his reaction as he sifted through the grainy faces.

A genuine smile spread across his lips as he chuckled. His mood did a 180. "Holy hell, I forgot how dorky you and Sammy were."

He flipped the photo around and sure enough there was a photo of a young Sam Winchester and *yn* Kitson.*yn* felt her cheeks flush as she snatched the photo from his hand for a closer examination.

Sure enough, there stood her and Sam, cheesy grins on their faces, dressed in matching Star Wars costumes. Sam as Luke Skywalker and *yn* as Han Solo. It was clear that the costumes had been made with whatever was available, her dad's belt nearly dwarfed her entire midsection and the pants were rolled up to her ankles so she wouldn't trip.

Despite her horror, she couldn't help but let out a giggle. "Christ, letting me go out like that has got to be considered some form of child abuse."

Dean chuckled as she placed the photo back down onto the table. "I remember you literally begging me to borrow my vest for that stupid costume."

"You should have said no, you would have been doing me a favour."

"And miss out on the opportunity to reminisce on your dorkiness years later? Hell no."

She shook her head, unable to wipe the smile off her face as Dean continued to sift through the photos.

"Oh my god."

"What?!" She was up and out of her chair, rounding the table to get a look at the photo that had made Dean's eyes bulge.

"Oh my god." She echoed as she slid into the chair beside him and peered over his shoulder.

"That is criminal." She gasped.

"What's criminal?"

The two twisted around in their seats to see Sam standing in the doorway. They glanced at each other before bursting into laughter.

"What? Show me!" Sam demanded as he stormed forward.

"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam reached over and plucked the photo from his hand. "I wasn't finishing admiring that."

*yn* covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter as she watched Sam study the picture.

"Oh my god." His face grimaced in disgust. "Burn this please."

"No, you look cute!" She protested.

"Cute is not the word I would use." Sam grumbled as he came to sit opposite them.

"Yeah sorry *yn*, gotta agree with Sammy on this one." Dean grinned as he reached over and grabbed it back from Sam.

"Dorky, loser, nerd, comes to mind though."

*yn* couldn't stifle her laughter any further as she looked at the photo once more.

It was a probably 10 year old Sam Winchester, his fringe even thicker and curlier then it was now, his two front teeth missing as he grinned wildly. He was holding some sort of science project in his small hands.

"Not much has changed in the dorky department."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. "What like you wouldn't have some embarrassing pictures in here?"

"Me? Pfft please, I never went through an awkward phase."

This time it was *yn*'s turn to roll her eyes.

"Yeah right."

"I was too busy with all the cheerleaders to go through one."

Spurred on by his words, she leant forward and flicked through the photos. A very young Dean Winchester, hair plastered up into an obnoxious quiff and gleaming with hair gel, wearing a leather jacket far too big for him, was beaming back at her. Her lips curled into a devilish grin as she plucked the photo from obscurity.

"You may not have gone through a dorky phase Winchester, but you definitely went through one just as embarrassing." She held it up triumphantly, dodging Dean's grasp as she held it out for Sam to take.

Sam let out a bark of triumphant laughter as he studied the photo, clutching his chest as he threw his head back in a dramatic fashion.

"Oh c'mon, I'm sure it's not even bad."

"Hm, I'd call using what looks like a whole tub of hair gel to style your hair pretty bad."

*yn* snickered at Sam's words.

"Give me that." Dean grumbled, snatching the photo from Sam's hand.

"Dude this is not even that bad." He protested, although *yn* didn't miss the way the apples of his cheeks turned a slight pink.

"Wasn't this his James Dean phase?" *yn* queried. Sam let out a howl of laughter.

"Oh my god how could I forget about the James Dean phase." Sam could barely get his words out as he laughed. "He'd pretend that lollypop sticks were cigarettes."

Dean's cheeks turned pinker. She almost felt sorry for him.

Almost being the key word.

"And remember that little walk he'd do."

"Hey, the man's a legend alright." Dean protested as they both burst into a fit of giggles.

"He's the definition of cool. Style. Class."

*yn*'s brows raised at Dean's words, biting her lip to stop the giggles escaping as he glared at her.

"I still think it's embarrassing." Sam remarked.

The brothers continued to bicker as *yn* resumed flicking through the photos. Her fingers stilled when her dad's smiling face suddenly stared back at her.

She was wrapped in his burly arms, her pudgy fingers clasping his neck. Pink bow in her wispy hair. A toothless smile and bright eyes aimed at him. She would have been no more than 2.

Grief hit her like an unexpected tidal wave.

She blinked as she felt hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The pad of her pointer finger brushed over his sun worn features. The werewolf inflicted scar on his left temple.

Dean's eyes involuntarily darted to her. He went to turn his attention back to Sam when he noted the tightness of her features. The veins in her hand were revealed from her grip on the photo. He recognised the emotion on her face instantly. One that he was all too familiar with.

"So where's your aunt?"

Her eyes met his, widened from the surprise of being snapped out of their focus. They softened almost instantly, and for a moment there was a look of gratefulness on her face. Like she understood what he had done. In a blink her face morphed into one of unreadability. It happened so quickly Dean almost doubted he'd even seen it at all.

"My aunt?"

Dean frowned at her question. "The one you said you lived with? Is she at work or something?"

"Oh. Right."

Her eyes darted between the two brothers. She may be good at hiding her emotions, but Dean was better at seeing through it.

"*yn*."

"She uh, she's... well, she's dead."

"Dead?" Dean balked. "What do you mean dead?"

"Like... the tomb vampires got out and she died of an 'animal attack' sort of dead." Guilt was written all over her features as she spoke.

Two bewildered expressions stared back at her.

"It's ok.. really! It wasn't that sad, it was a while ago and to be honest she was kind of the worst so-"

"I'm not worried about you being sad, I'm worried about who the hell has been looking after you all this time."

Annoyance flashed across her features, "I don't need anyone to look after me."

"Who lives here?"

"Me."

"I mean, who else lives here?"

"No one."

"No one? So you live here all by yourself?"

"Yes, that's what I meant when I said I live here."

Dean and Sam exchanged bewildered glances.

"I'm at Elena's most of the time, I pretty much live with her."

Now it all made sense. The dust. The lack of furniture. Why it felt like no one really lived here. Because no one did.

"So you don't have a guardian? Any sort of parental figure?"

*yn* bristled at his questions. She was starting to become quite irritated.

"Ric is my guardian technically, Elena and Jeremy's too."

"Ric? As in the former vampire hunter we saw drinking with your vampire boyfriend last night? Yeah, sounds like a great role model."

"Dean." Sam warned.

"What? I'm merely stating the facts."

"I thought we were passed the whole judging, making assumptions, just being an asshole in general thing."

She held his gaze. Her eyes glowering with annoyance. She radiated stubbornness. It made Dean falter.

"I'm only asking because I care about you."

Her resolve wavered, a crack in her mask appeared that allowed Dean a glimpse. He saw a flicker of sadness.

"You have a funny way of showing it."

The shrill voice of Taylor Swift rung out through the room, preventing Dean from a response. She really had to change that ringtone.

*yn* avoided Dean's intense gaze as she fished her phone out of her pocket and glanced down at the caller ID.

"Excuse me." Was all she muttered before pushing out of her chair.

She didn't answer until she was upstairs with the door shut. "What do you want?"

"Well hello to you too." She could hear Damon's amused smirk through the phone.

"This better be good, you're interrupting precious bonding time." She grumbled as she flopped onto her bed.

"Things going that well with dumb and dumber huh?"

She huffed at his question. "All I'm going to say is I hope it went better for you with Ric's doctor friend than it is for me right now."

"Yeah funny you mention that, I'm just leaving his flat now."

She frowned, "Why?"

"To check if there was a bunny on the stove." As he spoke she picked up her childhood toy and sat it onto her chest. Buffy the plush pink horse stared back at her unblinkingly.

"That bad huh?"

"She vervained me when I accused her of killing her ex boyfriend, then the little psycho blood jacked me."

"She what?" *yn* sat upright. Buffy tumbled down the side of the bed. "Are you ok?"

"Fine, just a little miffed. Although, somewhat pleased I got to say 'I told you so' to Ric. Just as I predicted. Diagnosed psycho case."

"Great, just what we need."

"Yep, add it to our list of never ending problems." Damon drawled, "I was actually calling to see how it was going on your end with your second favourite set of brothers."

In that moment a memory surfaced. She snatched it before it could disappear once more. As he spoke she swapped the phone to her other ear and hastily leant over to pull open her bedside table draw.

"I think I'm making progress." She rifled through the stacks of paper and trinkets. She froze as her fingers found its target.

"Well that's something."

She pulled it out, hidden deep in the drawers depths. She plucked it out like a prize. A treasure amongst trash.

"Keep me updated, yeah?" She could faintly hear Damon's question on the end of the line.

"Will do." *yn* heard herself mumble as she twisted back onto her back and stared up at the photo.

"I gotta go. Talk to you later." And with that she snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the bed beside her.

She held the paper up in her hand, stretching it above her head so the ceiling framed it. A photograph. A special one, kept apart from the others in the box in the room below her.

Luke Kitson, *yn* Kitson, Sam, Dean and John Winchester all beam back at her. The only photo of the five of them together. A perfectly dysfunctional family.

She smiled softly, letting the pads of her fingers glide over the young faces. Frozen permanently in time. None of them held a clue as to their fates. Where they would be in 8 years time. She wished she could somehow transport herself into that photograph and stay there forever.

Her anger towards Dean fizzled. Like it always did. She traced his grainy features with her fingernail.

She knew then that she had to do whatever it took to keep them safe. Even if it meant biting her tongue and quelling her anger. If it meant stretching the truth so they felt safe enough to leave her here and go on their way.

She let out a shaky breath as she pressed the photo into her chest, clutching it like she still did with Buffy when she couldn't sleep.

"I promise I'll keep them safe dad."

Sam turned to look at Dean once they heard a door shut above them.

"Oh don't give me that look Sammy."

"What look?"

"The little disappointed puppy look you've managed to master."

"You could have been a bit nicer."

"Oh come on!" Dean threw his hands up in the air. "The girl's living in a house all by herself in a town full of vamps, you expect me to be happy about this crap?"

"No, and I'm not happy about it either, but acting like this isn't exactly going to help things."

Dean muttered under his breath, leaning forward to press his elbows into his thighs so he could run his hands over his stubble.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?"

There was a static pause as Sam studied him before answering. "I think we should do what she says."

"You want us to leave?" Dean blinked dumbfounded.

"Look, if what she says is true, we stand no chance defeating these.. original vampires or whatever they're called. It'd be a suicide mission." Sam answered him, lowering his voice as he spoke.

"If we find dad we can get his help to come back and stop this."

Dean shook his head. "So what, we're supposed to just leave her here? With these-" He cut himself off, his eyes darting to the stairs before looking back at Sam. "These monsters?"

"I don't think we have a choice Dean."

"She could come with us."

"And what? Sit in a hotel room while we go work jobs? C'mon. You know that would never happen. It's pretty clear she wants to stay."

Dean frowned, rubbing his stubble stressfully as he racked his brain for another solution. There was a part of him that wanted to grab her and throw her in the back of the impala and drive away with her. But he knew he could never do that. He could never take away her freedom, her choice. Besides, she'd probably scratch his eyes out if he even tried.

"The longer we stay here the harder it's going to be to find dad."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Sam through his long lashes. "Is this about finding dad to help *yn*, or to get to him before he kills whatever killed mum and Jess?"

Sam flinched at Jess' name. His lips thinned into a firm line.

"We have a chance to kill the son of a bitch Dean. I'm not losing that. Not for anyone."

There was his answer. Dean sat up in his chair and leant back, his forehead creased as he studied his brother.

This wasn't the Sammy that he knew. The doe eyed, puppy like Sam Winchester who wanted to help everyone and anyone. No, this was a Sam Winchester who had a hard shell casing beginning to form around him. One that was driven by revenge and bitterness. One that was much too like John and Dean Winchester.

But despite all that, Dean knew his brother was right. They had no choice. If they stayed, they might all end up dead. At least this gave them time to reconvene and plan.

"Fine." Dean relented. "We go find dad, kill the son of a bitch, but then we are getting our asses back here and getting *yn* out."

"Deal." Sam nodded.

"But we ain't leaving until I give her at least some basic training. Who knows when she even last held a damn shotgun."

The staircase creaked before Sam could reply. The two sat up, trying to look as natural as possible as *yn* wondered back into the kitchen.

"Sorry about that, it was Elena." She spoke, waving her phone in the air before sliding it into her pocket. She seemed to return to the room in a much better mood than when she had left it.

"Everything ok?" Sam asked her, a smile on his features.

*yn* glanced at him before looking over at Dean. A strangely friendly smile was also on his lips.

"Yeah, just friend drama." She answered as she slid into her chair.

Each party seemed to be in a much friendlier mood, but the other could not quite work out why.

Her eyes landed on a photo amongst the pile, a genuine grin spread across her lips as she pulled it towards her.

Bobby Singer stared back at her, a rare smile on his face. A five year old *yn* Kitson sat beaming on his lap.

"Do you guys still see Bobby?"

Fondness washed over her at the memory of the grumpy older man. He'd always had a soft spot for her, and her for him.

"Yeah of course." Dean nodded.

"Hey, when this business is done with our dad why don't we swing through here and pick you up and we can all take a road trip to see him?"

*yn* looked up from the photo in surprise. Her eyes flickered to Sam who was nodding encouragingly.

"That sounds like a great idea." He agreed.

She glanced between them, trying to decipher what they were trying to say. "Does this mean you're leaving?"

"Yeah, well we talked about it and we think you're right. It's probably safer for everyone if we go." Sam was the one to answer her.

Her lips parted in surprise. Dean could tell that she had not thought it would be that easy. She turned to look at him and he could tell that she was reading him, trying to find the hidden motive behind their unexpected decision.

He did his best to keep smiling. If she could read him, she did not let on, a smile instead spreading across her lips. One that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"There is just one condition though." Dean finally spoke up.

"What's that?"

"Self defence training." *yn*'s brows shot up to her hairline.

"Self defence training?" She echoed. An amused smirk spread across her lips when he nodded.

"What? Don't think I can handle myself Winchester?"

"Just want to make sure you haven't gotten rusty that's all." He shrugged. There was a glimmer in his eye as they studied each other.

"Well we wouldn't want that, would we?"

A twig snapped underneath Dean's boot. A raven cawed in the distance.

"You sure no one's around?"

The two brothers stepped into the clearing that *yn* had directed them towards.

"Yeah, Ric, Elena and I come here all the time to train." *yn* answered from behind them. A loud thump made them swivel around.

"What the hell is that?"

The two brothers looked down at the duffle bag *yn* dumped down at their feet.

"Things I defend myself with."

They watched as she bent down. The teeth of the zipper parting echoed through the woods, bouncing off the old trees.

"What are we looking at right now?" Dean queried, his brows raised as he watched her pull out a shot gun.

"Well this one is loaded with wooden bullets, excruciating and a pain in the ass to dig out." She chucked it onto the grass.

"This one shoots mini daggers." Another thud.

"This is a vervain grenade."

Thud.

"Oh and this crossbow is pretty handy too."

Thud.

"And I think that's all I've got at the moment, Ric has some more back home."

She glanced up expectantly when she got no response. Their jaws were slack as they stared at the weapons laid out in front of them.

"You made these?" It was Sam who finally broke the silence.

"Yeah, I mean Ric thought of most of 'em but I helped... fine tune the final products I guess you could say." She picked up the shotgun, popping it open with ease and glanced down into the chamber.

Sam raised a brow and looked over at Dean. He didn't need to verbalise his thoughts. It was written all over his face. "What was that about her not being able to hold a shotgun?"

Dean shot him a glare before clearing his throat, "well that's all very impressive but sometimes we don't get the opportunity to grab weapons."

*yn* eyed him sceptically as he took a few steps back to move into the centre of the clearing.

"What about your hand to hand?"

She tried to hide her smirk as she placed the shot gun on the ground. She rose to her feet and dusted her hands off on her jean shorts.

He didn't need to know that Ric had been training her and Elena for months. Or that she never stopped training, even after her dad died.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and dumped it onto the ground, leaving him in a grey t-shirt. It was loose, except for around his biceps that bulged as he tensed. Her eyes darted to his hands, watching them curl into fists. His rings gleamed back at her.

She swallowed and forced herself to move her eyes back to his face. The last thing Dean Winchester needed to see was her checking him out.

She stepped forward so she was only a few metres from him.

"You know vampires have super speed and strength right? I don't think this sort of training is going to be much use."

"Just humour me." He answered her, a small smirk twisting up onto his lips. There was that gleam in his eye again. Challenging her. Provoking her.

"I wanna see what you're made of Kit."

Kit.

It felt like eons since someone had called her that.

"Hurry up Kit!"

"Put your back into it Kit."

"That's my little Kit."

"I love you Kit."

The nickname unlocked so many memories from her past. It didn't even feel like the nickname belonged to her. Like it was someone she'd known in her past life.

It felt so foreign to her ears that her brain took a moment to process it.

"C'mon Kit, what are you waiting for?"

Dean's voice brought her back down to earth. This time, the nickname nestled into her ear and made itself home again. It sparked something in her. A determined look settled onto her features.

Dean's eyes sparked when he saw her face morph. He held back his grin as the pair began to circle each other. They danced around each other, both of them holding their breath to see who would make the first move.

The snap of a twig was all it took. *yn*'s eyes must have shifted for no more than a few seconds. But it was all the time Dean needed to lunge forward and take her by surprise.

She stepped back and moved to curl her knuckles into a fist but he was already on her. Calloused hands gripped her forearms and twisted her around. She grunted as a knee pressed into the backs of her legs causing them to involuntarily buckle.

He used his bodyweight to push her down onto her stomach, twisting her arms and pinning them to her back in one fluid movement. She squirmed under his firm grip but she knew it was pointless. She was trapped, like a fish in a net. A fly in a spiders web.

She let out a grunt of frustration as she tried once more to writhe out of his strong grip. She could almost feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as a rush of warm air puffed onto the shell of her ear.

"Just as I thought, rusty." His voice was deep and amused. She gritted her teeth as he released her from his grip, chuckling to himself as he watched her get up onto her feet. Her breath was slightly ragged as she locked eyes with him, her jaw clenched.

Her ringtone blared through the woods. She tore her eyes from Dean and hurried to her bag. Damon's name illuminated the Caller ID. Her finger hovered over the accept button. She stole a glance at Dean who was already studying her intently. She flipped her phone shut.

"You don't need to get that?"

"Not important." She answered as she flicked it to silent and shoved it into the depths of her bag.

She rose to her full height and marched back into the centre of the clearing.

"Again."

After an hour, her body was aching and bruised. It was screaming at her to give up. And she might have done, if Dean hadn't just lunged at her for what must have been the 12th time and finally left his stomach exposed.

She stepped forward and punched him square between his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. She jumped on the opportunity instantly, kicking his feet out from underneath him. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, she pushed him to the ground and straddled his torso. A wild grin spread across her lips as she pinned his arms above his head.

Victory was hers. Finally. There was a triumphant look in her eye as his body stilled underneath hers, admitting defeat.

A smirk appeared on his lips as his hands settled on her thighs. His chuckle sounded like gravel. He winced as she intentionally pushed down onto the area of his stomach where a bruise was already starting to form.

"Well played Kit."

The praise affected her more than it should have.

She felt her cheeks flush as the pair locked eyes. The pad of Dean's thumb brushed against her skin. It left goosebumps in its wake.

"I'm spent." Sam groaned from behind them.

She finally broke eye contact, ducking her head down as Dean's hands flew from her thighs.

"Can we have a break now?" She asked as she rolled off him and glanced over at Sam.

"Please." Sam agreed as he collapsed against a tree. He seemed oblivious to the interaction that had just occurred.

"Great." *yn* rose to her feet and began to stretch her aching limbs. She could hear Dean getting onto his feet behind her.

"These weapons really work?" Dean spoke after a few moments of silence stretched through the clearing.

He had her crossbow in his hand. "Yeah, they've been useful before."

"And this one shoots stakes?" He brought it up to rest on his shoulder.

"Yeah, that ones a personal favourite of Ric's." *yn* answered as he watched him settle on a tree as a target. One eye closed as his finger rested on the trigger. Then he pulled.

There was a whoosh as a blurry figure snaked past her. The stake never found its target. It was stopped by a hand. A gaudy ring waved back at her. As did a smirking Damon.

"Uh oh, vampire not staked."

She blinked and he was gone. Firm hands gripped her shoulders before the stake had even hit the ground. A hard body pressed against her.

The band of the gaudy ring that was staring back at her only seconds ago was now pressing into her throat. Her face was guided to the side, exposing her skin. Fangs lightly scraped the side of her neck.

"Pretty girl gets killed instead." He murmured, his lips only millimetres from her skin. His fangs brushed her as he spoke.

Her face flushed and her heart pounded against her ribcage. This was so not the reaction she should be having to this encounter. She was certain Damon could hear the way her pulse was pounding. All she could do was hope that he assumed it was out of fear.

"You guys gotta work on your hunting skills."

*yn* knew how it looked, how Damon intended for it to look in front of Dean and Sam. But what they didn't see was how gently he had shifted her neck. How he had just brushed his thumb along the curve of her skull, almost in a way to communicate that he wasn't going to hurt her.

Dean's face had hardened as he aimed the crossbow at Damon.

"Alright ease up cowboy." Damon raised his hands in mock surrender but didn't make an attempt to move from behind *yn*. His makeshift shield.

"I'm just trying to make this training exercise as realistic as possible."

"Dean it's ok." *yn* reassured him. "This is just Damon's sick idea of a joke." She sneered.

Dean's eyes darted between Damon and *yn* for a few moments before he reluctantly lowered the crossbow. She could see Damon's smirk widen.

"You think my humour is sick? Why thank you."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him off her.

"You're an idiot."

He grinned at her as his fangs slid back into his gums and the veins under his eyes shrunk.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him before he could open his mouth again to spew out another taunt.

"You weren't answering your cell."

It was an accusation, not an explanation.

"I turned it off." His eyes narrowed at her answer.

"I need to talk to you." He glanced over at Dean and Sam, "in private." She rolled her eyes once more but nodded.

"And remember boys, special vamp hearing if you wanted to have a little gossip session about me while I'm gone." He turned and shot them an obnoxious wink.

She didn't wait for a response from Sam or Dean before she grabbed Damon's arm and dragged him off into the woods.

"Oh come on *yn*, why so grumpy." He teased. She gritted her teeth and finally came to a stop once they were out of ear shot of the boys.

"You rocking up with your fangs out isn't exactly going to help me convince them that they should leave me here, is it?"

This time it was Damon's turn to roll his eyes. "Alright I'm sorry, I was just having a little fun."

She sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "How's it going with them anyway?"

"Good actually, they've agreed to leave town."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Huh." Damon nodded, his lips pursed, "probably good timing actually."

"And why's that?"

"Well... I sort of had a run in with Klaus."

"What? What happened?" All annoyance directed towards Damon flew out the window.

"He got the coffins back."

"Shit." She cursed under her breath. "So we're all screwed then?"

"Well... I did manage to hide one before he got there."

She blinked in disbelief. "The locked one?"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' as he nodded. "Let's just say he wasn't too pleased with me."

"So we still have leverage." She breathed out, "that's good. Although he's probably going to be twice as murderous now."

"Oh, I think he's going to have bigger things to worry about for a while."

Her eyes narrowed at his words, "and why's that?"

A smirk twisted up onto Damon's lips as he leant into his jacket pocket. She took a step back, her eyes widening at the object.

A white ash dagger stared back at her.

"Is that...?"

"You bet it is."

"Damon what the hell did you do?"

He shrugged. "I thought it was time for a brotherly reunion."

"So you're telling me we've now got two original vampires running around Mystic Falls?"

"Elijah hates Klaus. Wants him dead."

"We thought that the last time and look what happened."

Damon huffed. "This is different, Klaus broke his promise and stuffed him into a wooden box. The dudes pissed. And if Elijah's pissed, it means we have a chance to get him to work with us to finally put a stop to Klaus's little tirade."

*yn* sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "You better be right about this."

"When am I ever wrong."

She shook her head, a ghost of a smile spreading across her lips as she looked away. Her eyes involuntarily dragged back into the direction of Sam and Dean.

"You want to get back to your training Kit?"

The nickname falling from his lips made her jerk her head back at him.

"That is what they call you, isn't it?"

"Were you spying on me?" She hissed.

"I had to find you from the sound of your voices. I didn't have a choice but to listen in." He shrugged innocently. If looks could kill, he'd be very much dead right now.

"I did arrive in time to see you tackle hero hair 2.0 to the ground."

"Are you done?"

"It was kind of hot."

She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"Alright now I'm done." He grinned. "I'll leave you to it, gotta go tell the baby brother my genius plan."

She watched him take a few steps before he suddenly turned back around to face her. All traces of humour had left his face. She jutted her chin up to look at him as he marched towards her.

"Don't put your phone on silent again." A breath caught in her throat as he raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His gaze had softened as he studied every inch of her face.

"I hate worrying that something's happened to you."

In a blink he was gone.

"Fuck." She murmured under her breath.

*yn* spent the time it took reaching the clearing to collect herself and push thoughts of Damon to the back of her mind. By the time she reached the boys, she was the perfect picture of calm and normalcy.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah." She nodded, "friend drama."

Dean nodded. She knew that he didn't believe her.

"So-" She cleared her throat. "Do you guys want to keep training?"

"It's getting kind of late actually, we should probably get going soon." Sam answered her.

She felt her heart plummet to the ground. She knew that they had to go, but she wasn't ready for it. They'd just got here. They were just starting to reconnect, to mend those bonds that had eroded over the years.

Even though she was practically limping from their training session, it had been some of the most fun she'd had in a long time. Giggling as Sam and Dean bickered, or trying to contain her laughter when she'd accidentally kneed Sam in the groin. It felt so natural. So familial. Almost like her dad was about to pop out and call them in for dinner like he used to all those years ago.

Surely it wouldn't hurt if they stayed just a little while longer. Like Damon had said, Klaus was distracted.

"Why don't you guys stay the night?" She suggested, glancing between them hopefully.

"We could grab some dinner and then you can head out in the morning."

The boys exchanged dubious glances.

"C'mon you can sleep at mine, I'm sure you must be sick of motel beds."

That seemed to be what tipped them over the edge.

"Alright that sounds good, thank you." Dean spoke, shooting her a tight lipped smile.

A grin spread across her lips, "great! Let's get something from the grill. I think it's burger deal night." She spoke enthusiastically as she picked up her duffel bag.

"Ooh! I call shotgun!" And with that she hurried off towards the impala, leaving the boys trailing after her.

"We're not playing any Taylor Swift." Dean called out to her as she neared the car.

She rolled her eyes, "I know you don't actually hate her."

"Oh really? And how do you know that?"

The car lock clicked.

"Because no one actually hates Taylor Swift. It's impossible."

Dean muttered something under his breath as the three of them piled into the impala. Sam's knees were practically up to his face as he forced himself into the back. Dean slid the key into the ignition.

"Do you still have that ACDC tape your dad used to play all the time?"

Dean's fingers froze in place. He turned to look at her.

"You still listen to ACDC?"

"Yeah. Of course I do. Why do you think I chose the name Young?"

Dean thought he might pass out as realisation hit him. "Like as in Angus Young...."

"Yeah..." She looked at him puzzled. "Do you guys still not use those sort of fake names?" She glanced over her shoulder at Sam.

"Yeah we do it's just..." Dean trailed off, bringing her attention back to him.

"Anyway-" He cleared his throat, "I have it, it's already in."

His answer made her smile grow wider. "Well what are you waiting for Winchester?"

He shook his head in disbelief before twisting the key in the ignition, letting the impala rumble to life. He pressed a button and the beginning of Back in Black started to blare through the speakers.

Sam internally groaned.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." She leant back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the dash as Dean pulled out onto the road.

Sam's brow raised when Dean didn't say a word. If that had been him, he'd have been told to get out and walk.

Dean grinned and began to tap his fingers along the leather of the wheel, his head bobbing in time.

"Back in black, I hit the sack - come on Winchester!" She exclaimed when she didn't hear Dean's voice, hitting his chest playfully.

Sam blinked in disbelief as Dean began to join in, the pair of them shouting at the top of their lungs. Dean cranked the music louder.

"Oh my god." Sam mumbled to himself.

"There's two of them."

I really love this part - don't worry though there's gonna be soooo much drama coming up hehehe <333 As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter Four

Series Masterlist

Summary: You contend with an unexpected visitor. (+18)

Content Warnings: smut, dub-con if you squint really hard

Read on AO3

Notes: last chapter was all plot, no porn. this is all porn, no plot. duality of man.

feedback is always welcome! :)

You freeze, hand on the doorknob.

There’s got to be a rational explanation for this. Maybe Mary came home early? He’s supposed to be at band practice until this evening, and then meet you at work. There’s always the possibility they had to cancel, but knowing those die-hards, that’s unlikely. Mary literally got hit by a bus one time and still showed up.

You always lock the door. It’s a compulsive behavior. But could you have forgotten this time? What were you thinking about when you left?

Stupid fucking Copia!

You have no choice but to confront whoever’s in the apartment. It’s not like you can call the cops. One look at your battered face and bloody knuckles and they’d book you on the spot.

Would Copia bail you out? Does he need — or want — you that badly?

You feel fairly confident that you can fight off one guy, maybe two if you’re mad enough. Throwing caution to the wind, you quietly open the door just enough to slip inside. You try to listen for any kind of noise, any indication that you’re not alone, but there’s nothing. Could you be imagining things after all?

The front hall is clear. Making as little noise as humanly possible, you tiptoe closer to the kitchen, stopping just shy of the threshold. Again, you hear nothing, but mentally prepare yourself for whatever might be in there.

“I thought I told you to rest today, dolcezza.” Copia’s voice startles you, an electric pulse running down your spine. Peering into the kitchen, you find him leaning against the counter, examining the polaroids pinned to the fridge with tacky magnets Mary has collected over the years. He takes one of them, a photo of the two of you at a party last year, and slides it in your direction. In the picture, Mary is clearly hammered, and you’re staring at the camera looking like you want to die.

“Who is this,” Copia asks, leering. “Your boyfriend?” You’re taken aback not only by the question, but by the accusation within it.

“My foster brother,” you reply. “Fucking gross.” Copia quirks an eyebrow, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

“Oh, so she is feeling disobedient and mouthy? Today cannot get any better!” What is his fucking problem?

“Your dad spank you or something?” The words leave your mouth before you can consider their impact. Copia’s face immediately darkens at the mention of his father. There is something almost murderous in his eyes, but you remain steady in your anger towards him.

“What has gotten into you, signorina? It’s not like you to be such a brat.” Indeed it’s not, but he’s asking for it. He’s been asking for it since he toyed with you last night. Balling your fists, you stalk towards him.

“You can’t just show up here. How did you even get in?” Since the beginning of your arrangement with Copia, you and Mary have had a strict rule about not leaving a spare key anywhere. The only copies in existence are yours, his, and the landlord’s.

“Did you think a cheap, piece-of-shit lock like that could keep me out?” He scoffs. “You’re practically inviting people to break in.” There’s a pause. You’re now face to face. “I thought you would be happy to see me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you can react, your back is pressing into the edge of the counter. Copia has you boxed in, pinning you against the linoleum with his body. He grips your chin roughly, trying to force you to look at him. You intentionally avoid his gaze.

“Be careful now, amore,” he growls. “You are already in enough trouble as it is.”

You could kick Copia’s ass. You should kick his ass. But you’re fucking weak, and the feeling of him against you has your blood racing in all the wrong ways. When he presses into you further, you can feel he’s already hard. You make a sad attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, but you’re only using a fraction of your full strength and he knows it, holding you in place.

He grinds his erection into you. “Tell me you don’t want it.” The words are stuck in your mouth, choking you. Your face heats up, ashamed of how easy you are for him. “That is what I thought.” Without another word Copia kisses you harshly. Though you’ve acquiesced somewhat, you’re still mad and not about to let him walk all over you. When his tongue swipes across your lips, you refuse to let him have access, pursing them just a little tighter. He grunts in frustration. You’re not expecting it when he lightly bites down on the split part of your lip. You gasp, mouth opening slightly, and that’s all the opportunity he needs; he’s halfway down your throat before you can blink. One hand comes up to roughly grab your breast, his fingers digging into the flesh. You squirm, not used to him touching you like this.

It’s not long before Copia is yanking down your sports bra so hard you hear threads snap. Your tits spill forth, bouncing with the force of the action. He tweaks one of your nipples, hard, and you can’t stop the moan that rises out of your throat, burning like bile. With one hand fondling your breast, the other migrates behind you, slinking upwards to finally snake into your hair, still soft and fragrant from his lavish treatment the night previous. His grip tightens and he pulls, wrenching your head back. There’s a pop! as your mouths disconnect. Your scalp stings.

This pain is nothing compared to what you experience in the ring, but it feels entirely new coming from him. There’s a part of you that wants to dwell on this, to let it feed your rage until you explode, but you can’t let that happen. It’s better, you reason, to take what has to give you rather than do something you might sorely regret. Besides, it’s hard to be angry with him when he’s so close. There’s something about his touch, even when it hurts, that sucks all the malice out of you.

You get the sinking feeling that might come back to bite you someday.

Your neck bared to him, Copia immediately begins attacking the exposed flesh, sucking and nipping at it while he grinds his crotch into yours. He ruts against you like a wild animal, the zipper of his suit pants catching your clit just right through your shorts. Something about the pain contrasts the pleasure in a way that amplifies it, and soon enough the dampness between your legs is impossible to ignore. Your knees begin to wobble and Copia releases his grip on your hair, that hand coming to rest on your center back in order to support you. The irony of such a gesture is not lost on you.

Once Copia has seemingly had his fill of humping you, his hands settle on your hips. It takes some effort with you resisting, but eventually he’s able to spin you around and bend you over the counter. The cold surface is a shock against your hardened nipples, and you try to prop yourself up on your forearms to get away from it. A hand finds the back of your neck, though, holding you down.

“You are only making this worse for yourself,” he says, squeezing you like he’s trying to scruff a dog. You hiss, lightly kicking at him in retaliation. “Piccola marmocchia!” Copia smacks your ass hard and you jolt, startled by how the sensation travels directly to your core. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and underwear and he tears them both down, his nails raking across your skin. The garments pool at your feet. Copia then drapes himself over you, his hand moving from your ass cheek to your pussy. Two fingers run across your slit, feeling the considerable wetness there, and he snickers.

“You like being a bad girl, don’t you, dolcezza?” You elect to not dignify that with a response. He doesn’t give you time for it anyway, the digits delving inside your tight heat with an embarrassingly loud squelch. You grit your teeth, trying not to moan as he starts brutally fucking you with his fingers. He palms himself with his unoccupied hand, and when he groans you can feel the rumble in his chest against your back. “Papa’s bad girl…”

As much as you hate to admit it, you are.

Suddenly you become aware of a third finger prodding at your entrance. You’ve never taken that many before. There’s resistance as it slides in, the stretch burning delightfully. Finally you can’t hold back any longer and moan pitifully, your pussy fluttering around the intrusion. Copia continues to pump his fingers in and out, angling them so that he hits the most sensitive spot inside you each time. You’re a writhing, moaning mess beneath him, the slick beginning to drip down your legs.

The feeling of Copia’s thumb tracing the tight ring of your other hole startles you out of your trance. It’s too much. “Don’t,” you growl, using your full strength to rise up off the countertop, craning your neck to glare at him. Copia doesn’t acknowledge your demand, but to your relief he backs off. Still, you remain propped up, carefully monitoring the situation. He rolls his eyes at this, withdrawing his fingers and making a show of spreading them, strings of your slick connecting the digits and snapping as they grow farther apart. He flashes you a shit-eating grin and you have to turn away, humiliated by your own desperation for him.

At long last, you hear the telltale sound of Copia’s belt buckle coming undone. Soon after, the head of his cock, hard and hot, is running through your folds. There’s no time to brace yourself before he bottoms out, fully seating himself inside you with a groan. His hands fly to your hips, pulling you into him. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as he starts moving, fucking into you at a punishing pace. Once he establishes a solid rhythm, one hand snakes around to your front to toy with your clit. Your back arches and you press yourself into him, pounding your fist into the countertop. A string of whispered curses leaves you, and you’re so caught up in the rapid approach of your climax that it takes you a moment to realize Copia is talking to you.

“…Old bastard thinks he can use you against me, that he can take you away if I do not live up to his standards.” Something in your stomach drops with the realization that Nihil knows of your existence. “But — fuck! I will not let that happen.”

For the love of God, never say that to me again.

“You wouldn’t fight for anyone else, would you, dolcezza?” There’s an edge to his voice that tells you it’s not a rhetorical question. It gives you pause. He thrusts hard and deep, punching into your most sensitive spot. You cry out, head dropping. “Answer me.” A part of you knows you shouldn’t say it; you shouldn’t encourage him.

“No,” you pant. “Never.” You hate that it’s the truth. Copia rewards you by drawing his fingers in tighter circles around your clit, and suddenly you’re teetering on the edge of a powerful orgasm. You feel delirious. “Papa, I-“

“Say it again.”

“Never. I’d never-“ You’re cut off by your release. It washes over you like a tidal wave. Copia fucks you through it, your spasming eventually pulling him over the edge as well. He stills with a groan, a rivulet of his spend running down your thigh as he softens inside you. When he finally pulls out, shuffling over to the sink, you silently mourn the loss of his touch. After cleaning himself off he takes a few sheets of paper towel, wets them, and then returns to where you’re still bent over the counter, catching your breath. Without complaint you let him tend to you. Once he’s done you pull up your panties and shorts. Turning to face him, you lean against the counter, crossing your arms.

“Still feeling pissy?” His tone his lighthearted now.

“No,” you answer, unable to meet his gaze. For now, it’s the truth.

“Me neither.” There’s a pause. “Mi dispiace,” he says, reaching out and brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek. “I was too rough. I shouldn’t have brought that meeting here.” You’re about to brush it off, to dismiss his earlier declaration like it was nothing, but then the front door opens.

“Hey,” Mary calls, the sound of his footsteps drawing closer. “We had to end early today. I thought we could get dinner before-“ There’s a horrible silence as he takes in the scene, a myriad of emotions playing across his bony face.

“Hello,” Copia says with a wave. He seems completely unbothered. Mary nods.

“Hi.” He puts on a strained smile, but there is venom in his eyes, especially when he takes in the damage done to your face. “You must be Copia. I’ve heard so much about you.” He saunters over, extending a hand. “Mary Goore.” Copia shakes it, an almost smug look on his face. If you could spontaneously drop dead, now would be the perfect time.

“Piacere, Mr. Goore. I hope you do not mind my dropping in. I was in the area and could not resist seeing your lovely sister.” The way he says it makes the nature of his visit clear. Mary’s eye twitches just a little bit.

“Not at all. Any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

“Yes, a friend.” There’s another tense silence. “I should really be going.” He steps around Mary, walking himself to the door. “I will be in touch, bellissima. Ciao!” The two of you stand there quietly as he leaves, taking a moment to process what just happened.

“So,” Mary says after the sound of Copia’s footsteps finally fades away. “Dinner?”

[ghostwiththeemost]

hi handsome

Im a huge fan and decided to doodle you. I hope you like it. No really. I hope you like it. Please don't stab me, Mr. Juice.

Love, some guy

P.s, are you an artist?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ ❜ DAMN! Would ya look at that? How fuckin' nice babes! ❛ 

Beetlejuice held up the doodle like a proud parent, summoning a fridge and a really tacky magnet, putting it on the fridge. Next thing you know there was a sign in giant red letters, "ART FRIDGE ART FRIDGE!"

⇢ ˗ˏˋ ❜ Welcome to the art fridge babes. The art looks fuckin' great. ❛ 

He cackled, turning the camera as he spoke.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ ❜ As for being an artist... Me? Nah. I doodle sometimes, but I usually break pens and shit. As for the mod though... He's an artist. ❛ 

...And then you see the mod. Dew stares at you from his little desk in the corner, pausing on his typing of... This post?

❜ Huh--? Oh, hi. Beej I told you not to suddenly startle me with asks like this-- ❛

[quasar-concept]

For Polyamorous Day of @thunder-pride I give you asexual, polyamorous John!!

Warnings: kissing, mentions of sex Content Tags: polyamorous triad, asexual John, pre-IR, OC characters, TAG-verse

Read on Ao3

It was well past midnight when John walked through the door of his apartment. A long day of coding complex rocketry systems for Brains had left him drained, and the stress of the day crunched his shoulders tight. As he slipped off his shoes, he stifled a yawn and walked into the lounge room. All of the lights were off, save a sliver of warmth from the bathroom.

The coffee table had papers scattered around it, half-translated pages and pages scrawled with red pen edits. John tiptoed into the kitchen to leave his coffee cup on the sink. John’s heart clenched. He’d shared this apartment with Alé and Rin for three years. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to leave for a tiny island in the Pacific. 

He sighed. Someone had gone and stuck a piece of paper on the fridge with a tacky NASA magnet, the note adorned with scribbled hearts letting John know there was food saved in the fridge for him if he wanted it. John smiled. He appreciated the effort, but the exhaustion tingling all over his body left no room for food.

John yawned. He chucked his satchel bag on the lounge, and groaned quietly when it pulled the draped weighted blanket down with it. He stared for a moment before deciding he was too tired to care, and threw his coat on top of the pile, too. 

The soft sound of feet on the floor caught John’s attention. Alé yawned in the halfway opening, rubbing their eyes. Their curly hair was tousled with sleep, a sloppy smile on their face as they walked towards John.

John frowned. “Sorry, Alé, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Alé slipped their hand into his. “Nah, John. Just glad you're home” 

The tension in John’s shoulders loosened. He wrapped his free arm around Alé’s waist, and pulled them into a hug. “Missed you,” John said and kissed Alé’s cheek. 

“Missed you, too darling,” They said, and nestled into John’s chest. Their black shirt hung loose around their shoulders, well below their waist. It was hard to tell in the dark of the lounge room, but John was fairly sure the shirt used to belong to him. 

Alé pulled back. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

“You were both still sleeping.”

“You could’ve woke us up, y'know. We wouldn't have minded.”

“Mm. Well, you deserved to sleep.”

“You're sweet.” Alé kissed John’s forehead. “You do, too.” 

John hummed. He cushioned his head on top of Alé’s bleach-blond hair, sleep pulling John closer and lulling him with the gentle sound of the dishwasher churning away.

“Time for bed, John?”

“Yeah,” he said, but didn’t move.

Alé managed to gently extract themself from John’s grip, and kissed his jaw. “Wonder if Rin woke up.” They tugged him down the hallway. 

“Probably not,” John said. “You know it takes a lot to wake her up.”

“Well, she’ll want to say goodnight to you, so we can wake her up,” they chuckled.

Alé tugged John into the dark room, where the large queen bed was tucked beneath the window. Rin and Alé’s clothes were strewn on the floor, and the lingering smell of sex clung to the small room’s edges. John had no interest in it himself, but he had no issues with Rin and Alé having sex whilst he wasn’t around. 

Whatever self-consciousness he used to hold about his asexuality had been alleviated early on in their relationship. John hadn’t wanted his partners to feel like he was stopping them from having fun, and Rin and Alé had assured him that their sex lives were not more important to them than he was.

Besides, Rin and Alé got cuddly after sex and John was perfectly happy to do that for as long as they wanted. Rin would drape herself over their laps, where Alé was tucked into John’s side. Warm and soft and good.

“Rin,” Alé sing-songed, and shook her shoulder. “John’s home.”

She groaned, and wriggled further under the sheets.

“Rin, say goodnight.” 

She mumbled something unintelligible, and John laughed at her muffled response.

“Don’t worry Rin, I love you anyways.”

“Good,” she said, and rolled over to face them with an exaggerated pout. She held out a tattooed arm, pout melting off her face. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she said. “Let’s go to sleep.”

John folded into her arms. “Yeah.”

Alé gently slapped John’s shoulder. “Change clothes, you grub.”

John groaned. He agreed, of course, that he should change out of his trousers that had started to chafe, but he really didn’t want to get up now that he’d lay down. 

The soft clatter of the cupboard door closing told John that Alé had grabbed him a shirt for him. “Thanks, Alé.”

“Of course, darling. Throw this on, and you can go right to sleep, hey?”

John made a noise of agreement, and shucked his clothes before tugging on the soft shirt, and flopping back down next to Rin.

“Bad day?” She asked.

“Just hard,” John said, as Alé tucked their chin over his shoulder, and put their arm over his side. 

“Yeah?” said Alé.

“Yeah.”

“What was hard about it?” Rin tucked her hand under her head.

“Dad’s plans are amazing,” John said. “There’s just a lot to do, and none of it is exactly easy.”

Rin hummed. “You said Dr. Hackenbacker was helping out, right?”

“Yeah. He’s done all the engineering for the ships,” John said. “Honestly, his work is amazing. It’s brilliant, the way he’s designed it to integrate so easily with the kind of code I’m writing for them.” He sighed. “There’s so much to do. 

“You’re gonna help a lot of people, sweetheart,” Rin said.

“Yeah,” Alé agreed.

Silence swept over the room, and Rin cuddled up to John and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You do look a little dead though, J. You should go to sleep.”

“We should all go to sleep,” Alé said, pointedly, glaring at her from over John’s shoulder.

Rin stuck out her tongue.

John laughed softly. “You’re right.” He tucked his arm around Rin and held her against his chest. Alé moved to rest their forehead against John’s shoulder blade, and ran their fingers in small circles against John’s elbow.

Mind thick with sleep, he didn’t really need the help, but Alé’s fingers were soft, and drove away the lingering stress of the day.

“Love you Rin,” John said, kissing her shoulder. “Love you Alé.”

Alé kissed the side of his shoulder. “Love you, too.”

Rin hummed happily, and snuggled closer. “‘Night.”

“Sleep well.”

“You too, John.”

The silence of the late night draped itself over the three of them, where they were linked together, warmth cocooning them. Their breathing eventually evened out, marking the proper end of the day, and they wouldn’t wake up until well into the following day, still tucked against each other, with soft smiles on their faces.

[bleubrri]

⟡ ゚ ៹ moving day - connie springer

connie insists on piggybacking you past the threshold out of your apartment. he justifies it as an ode to all the times he’s ‘hauled your drunk ass to bed’, though you’re pretty sure his tally outnumbers yours. you’re feeling surprisingly mellow—the movers had come early to pack up the bulk of your stuff. now all that’s left are your suitcases in the outside hallway and the memories nestled between your ribs (plus, the forgotten magnet under the fridge that connie will spend close to a week mourning the loss of).

you love this place. it’s been good to you. familiarity and comfort coat the walls of your home just as much as the tacky orange paint in the living room, like you’d always been here and always would be. though, it’s time for a change. new beginnings and all that jazz. you don’t suppose it matters where it is that you get to call home, as long as you’re sharing it with connie.

he’s dragging his feet as he makes his way down the hallway, feeling you nuzzle into the crown of his head as he clings to the backs of your thighs. it makes you smile, the way he doesn’t skip over the creaks in the floorboards, savouring the little squeaks under his boots as if he hasn’t been complaining about them for the past 3 years. you’re passing the open doorway of the front room, morning light streaking through the windows and highlighting the disturbed dust particles that sparkle under its rays.

and suddenly you’re on the brink of death, all the memories of your life here flashing behind your eyes in a way you’ve only ever seen in movies. every burnt dish of lasagne setting off the smoke alarm. every summer heatwave in your underwear with the ac blasting and ice pops melting on your tongues. every meticulously rolled blunt pressed to your lips by the tips of his fingers. the abandoned tv series and the kitchen-stuff mini golf course and the tangled limbs lost in the couch cushions.

you glide your cheek across the pinpricks of his buzzcut, pressing your face to his and tugging on the studded lobe of his ear affectionately. “i’m gonna miss this place.”

you can feel his cheek squish further against your own under the weight of his smile. “yeah.” he sighs, “‘least the new place let’s us have pets!”

“connie springer, we are not getting a pet.”

“what?! why?”

“you can’t be trusted!” you smirk into the curve of his neck.

“can’t be—i just signed a lease!” he jostles you on his back and revels in your yelp-giggle. “i want a kitten and a puppy. and one ‘a those big ass fish tanks.”

you hum, perched in the front doorway of your eccentric little apartment with arms wrapped securely around your eccentric little love. connie shuts the door, clicking the lock and sighing dramatically.

“y’know we might need some energy for all this unpacking.” you pipe up. “you wanna get mcdonalds or something on the way ove—”

another yelp escapes you as your boyfriend immediately lets go of your thighs, leaving you dangling, clinging to his neck and shoulders as he grabs the handles of your suitcases and bolts down the hallway towards the lift. thundering and whooping, leaving your neighbours with the perfect lasting impression of you.

#: @i4sgwr @sheluvzeren