#the worst part is that this is an incredibly self-indulgent fic

[zeawesomebirdie]

Me whenever anyone else says their writing is cringe: cringe is dead, kill the part of you that cringes not the part that is cringe, etc etc

Me whenever I try to edit this fic: I must stab my eyes out so that I may no longer need to look at how incredibly cringe this is

[sundrop-writes]

would you be willing to do a follow up to the teen wolf pregnancy hcs? something with the characters interacting with their kid - can be as a baby or older - just them being parents and adjusting to being young parents.

i love your writing 💗💗💗

Fyi, I was not even planning on working on requests tonight, but this caught my attention so much and gave me such a good idea that I had to do it. I decided to do it with the same characters from the first part, but if you want to see this prompt with other characters, then I would do the 'how they react to finding out that you're pregnant' part first with different characters

My requests for Teen Wolf are OPEN, but please read my Rules before sending in a request.

Part One - How would they react to finding out that you're pregnant with their baby?

How would the pack act as parents?

Included: Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, and Derek Hale.

Warnings: fem reader - uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is the one who gave birth to the baby, as in the previous part); Stiles's part is extremely self indulgent and something I have been thinking about since I wrote the last part so bear with me; mentions of breastfeeding, giving birth, teething, and other parenting/baby topics; the baby is a different age and has a different name in each section just for funsies; mention of Lydia and reader's baby having red hair - but I did this to drive home the baby's genetic relation to Lydia and I don't think it has to specify the reader's race (someone with darker skin can still have naturally red hair); Lydia calls the reader 'Mama'; mention of the reader being a werewolf in Derek's part because there is a weird continuity in these reactions (and I should write a full fic about Derek and this reader character cause I am slowly becoming addicted to their story, ngl); I believe that's finally it.

Stiles was panicking. He was officially the worst parent ever - everything his dad said was right. He wasn't ready for this, nobody should be a teen parent, he was a failure. God, his whole life was crumbling around him...

You were out of town because your sister was getting married. You had been incredibly hesitant to leave the baby - sweet, adorable, nine-month-old Lila Stilinski - but Stiles had insisted that you go on a weekend getaway to your sister's bachelorette party. You deserved it. You had spent nine whole months growing his baby and then you had given birth to her (a bloody, messy affair that made him faint - to nobody's surprise), and you had spent the last nine months nursing her and getting your degree from home after you had fought through your pregnancy taking double courses to graduate high school early. You were a gem, a beautiful, shining gem of a woman and a mother, and somehow - while you were off getting your much needed rest and having fun - Stiles had lost your baby.

His baby - his baby that he loved very, very much.

He had woken up that morning, late, having forgotten to set the alarm, and rushed around the apartment like a chicken with his head cut off rushing to get Lila ready for day care and himself ready for school, and he dropped her off as usual, with a smile and kiss on her big beautiful forehead. And when he went to pick her up that afternoon - she was gone. The day care worker couldn't give him any other news than the fact that she had been 'signed out already', and it left Stiles panicking, thinking about that cult that sacrifices babies every single day.

In his rush that morning, he had forgotten to charge his phone, so he couldn't get his dad on the line - and he was currently running at top, lung-crushing speed toward the police station, running past the deputy on duty at the front desk, who simply shrugged and buzzed him in when she saw his bright red face and his clear desperation.

"Dad, D-dad, you have to-!" He was going to ask his father to put out an amber alert, to call every single one of his deputies back to get them looking, but when his father turned around - that sweet girl with the bright purple bow in her hair was in his arms.

Then, Stiles shifted on a dime from panic to anger.

"Dad, what the hell?" He barked out, struggling to sound as pissed off as he was while still trying to catch his breath.

"What?" The Sheriff shrugged, kissing his granddaughter on the forehead before cooing brightly at her, smiling at her with all the brightness in the world, paying Stiles absolutely no mind.

"You took her out of day care without telling me first?" Stiles gaped, absolutely angered that his father had let him believe for even a moment that his girl was missing.

He knew it was a cruel irony - a blunt kind of karma. All the times he had come home late, all the nights he had snuck out believing that his dad was simply being too hard on him for giving him such an early curfew. Now, in a single crashing moment, he instantly understood why his father had worried so much - why he was so angry every single time Stiles was out of his sight, especially when there was danger around.

"Your phone was off." Noah shrugged, rocking Lila back and forth in his arms, giving her another kiss on the forehead as he began to hum the tune of a lullaby under his breath. "I got bored on my lunch break, and I wanted to see my baby, so what?"

It was the usual for him - any time he was within ten feet of her, she didn't have a moment in your arms or Stiles's. On the day she had been born, he had brought a giant gift basket to the hospital, grumbling under his breath about how he still thought it was 'irresponsible' of Stiles, but demanding to see 'his baby'.

He had burst into tears upon seeing Lila for the first time, and was deeply aggressive about who was allowed to visit and for how long. When she came home, he stood watch over her crib with his gun in hand for multiple days before he finally gave up and went to sleep (and according to you, he admitted quietly that he had done the same thing for Stiles when he first came home from the hospital).

"My phone died." Stiles stressed. "You could have left a note for me at the school or something. You gave me a freakin' heart attack."

"Be more responsible and charge it next time." The Sheriff grinned at him.

"Just - don't kidnap my daughter again!" Stiles snapped. "She is my daughter-" He argued, taking a possessive, protective stance.

"Yeah, well I made you, so I have certain rights when it comes to this little sweet girl." His father said, trailing off into a cooing baby voice as he began fawning over Lila once again. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Besides, ever since the three of you moved out, I hardly get to see my babygirl anymore."

Stiles felt a twinge of guilt at this, but wanted to argue. The three of you needed your own space, and you had moved into an apartment that was less than twenty minutes away from his father's house. He still saw Lila at least once every single day of the week, unless he was busy working.

"Dad-"

"Besides, it's not kidnapping if I'm the Sheriff."

"It is so kidnapping! It's kidnapping if I report you."

"Is it still considered an abortion if I terminate you now?" His father glared at him.

Stiles let out a huff.

Isaac was tired. He knew that being a parent was going to be tiring, but in the six months since baby Leon had been born, this was his first full night alone with his son. His son who was teething, crying incredibly loudly, and in pain because of his little teeth coming in. He wasn't nearly as upset about the fact that he hadn't slept as he was about the fact that his son was in pain and he could do little about it.

He had considered calling you a few times throughout the night when Leon was letting out particularly harrowing cries and Isaac was on the verge of tears himself (especially considering with his heightened werewolf senses, the pain of those cries seemed to pierce through him even more) - but he had agreed to take care of Leon by himself to get him out of the house that you and your mother shared because you had been studying for the SATs and you needed sleep the night before your big exam. So as much as it pained him, he endured alone and ended up crying with his son while he sucked on a frozen teething toy with tears still running down his chubby cheeks.

The sun had come up a while ago and Leon had just fallen asleep, his portable crib set up in the middle of the loft so that Isaac could watch over him - his hair messy and his eyes bloodshot red as he stood at the counter, chugging down a cup of black coffee, trying his hardest to stay away until after your exam was over so that you could take Leon and he could have a nap.

He was not at all pleased when the door creaked open, seeming like the loudest thing ever - alerting him to the presence of Boyd entering the apartment.

"Hey, man-" Boyd greeted him in a usual bright tone, and Isaac cut him off with an abrupt hush. He put a finger to his lips and then motioned to the crib, and Boyd peeked over, nodding once he saw the baby. "You're on Daddy duty again?"

"It's not like it's a hobby or something," Isaac told him tiredly in a hushed tone. "I am a father now." Even with the tense whispering and the tired droop of his shoulders, there was a certain sense of pride in the way he said this.

"Well you-"

Isaac shushed him again, as Boyd speaking in his usual tone was far too loud for Isaac's liking.

"You know, he's gonna have to get adjusted to noise sooner or later." Derek piped up from his place on the couch, where Isaac had convinced him to sit and read a book until Leon had settled to sleep.

"Shh!" Isaac tried to hush Derek into silence, but he glared at Isaac and kept talking at his usual volume.

"Babies born into pack families are brought up co-sleeping, so they sleep through the noise of a dozen family members-"

Isaac crossed the room and put a hand against Derek's mouth, forcing him quiet this time.

"I don't care." Isaac insisted. "Nobody is going to wake up my son now that he is asleep."

"Stop touching me." Derek said, muffled against Isaac's hand.

Isaac backed off, and before Derek could speak up again, Leon woke with a high pitched wail.

"You guys have fun with that." Boyd said, taking this as his queue to leave.

Lydia was overjoyed. Telling her parents about everything had been nothing short of a confusing nightmare, and after a lot of convincing from Melissa and Noah and a lot of questions without a lot of answers, they had both still been sceptical right up until you had given birth.

The moment they had laid eyes on a sweet newborn baby girl with bright red hair - they were convinced that against all odds, you and Lydia had made a baby together.

That was an entire year ago - and now, Lydia was having the utter pleasure of planning her beautiful Luna Harmony Martin's first birthday party. She was so perfectly in her element - picking out decorations, designing an utterly epic and fabulous birthday cake (including a separate, smaller smash cake that only her daughter would get to touch, because it was only the best for Luna), planning entertainment - a professional princess performer and some magicians (no clowns - Luna didn't need those kind of memories implanted in her psyche this early on), and the best part: picking out cute little dresses for the birthday girl to wear.

Much like her mother, she was a fashion icon, and she would likely need multiple outfit changes for her party - not just with the fact that she would get covered in cake or her own spit-up, but because a proper birthday girl should always be photographed in more than one ensemble.

You weren't surprised when Lydia came home with two large armfuls of shopping bags. You wanted to protest, to tell her that a one-year-old didn't need that many clothes that she wasn't even going to wear, but you knew that Lydia's parents weren't going to take away her credit card anytime soon (and when it came to spoiling the baby, they were even worse) and you also knew that this was one of her ways of showing your daughter love.

So when she came to sit on the cushy foam playmat with you and Luna, dropping the many shopping bags on the cough behind the two of you, you simply let it happen.

"Hello my sweet girl," Lydia said, greeting your daughter in a sweet voice as she kissed her chubby cheeks and pulled her into her lap. "And hello to you, Mama."

Mama. The nickname still made your stomach churn with heat - something that Lydia had gotten into calling you more lately after some rant about how Luna's 'speech centre' was 'rapidly developing' and she wanted to influence what the baby would call you.

You couldn't help but to grin as you kissed her too.

"I see you've been shopping." You said, motioning toward the bags.

"A bit." Lydia shrugged. "After I booked the carousel-"

"A carousel?" You questioned. "Lydia, she's a year old. She can't even ride carnival rides - she's not even going to remember any of this."

"It's for the photos. Obviously." Lydia sighed in return, rolling her eyes at you. "The theme of the party is Cotton Candy Princess, what kind of idiot would I be if I didn't include at least one classic carnival ride in my photos?"

"At this rate, she's gonna want a golden pony by the time she's five."

"Then she'll get one." Lydia cooed at Luna, kissing her cheeks again, smearing pink lipstick on her.

You couldn't help but to smile - you knew that this was Lydia's way of showing your daughter that to her, she was the most important little girl in the world.

Derek was annoyed - not with his son, with you.

Since the moment he had found out that you were pregnant, Derek loved his son more than anything in the world. He loved you just as much, he had right from the moment he had slashed Peter's throat and then turned you where you were dying, bleeding out, and used his newfound Alpha powers to turn you in order to save your life. Because that was the moment he knew he would risk anything and everything in order to keep you alive.

He loved you very much, but he was still annoyed with you.

You were determined not to let Derek sleep with his son - a tradition as old as pack life itself, now being marred by you shoving articles in Derek's face about how co-sleeping was 'dangerous' and how the baby should have his own crib. A baby of only three months old should not be damned to isolation. It made Derek's heart ache just thinking about it. He was used to the comfort of your body - he was used to the sync of your heartbeat, the sound of his voice and Derek's constantly nearby. He shouldn't be off in the corner by himself. You had made Derek feel like some criminal, sneaking out of bed at one in the morning to pluck his son out of that damned crib in order to spend some time with him.

And now, Alexander was sleeping peacefully on his bare chest, skin to skin as nature intended, feeling the peace of his father's heartbeat as Derek dozed into a gentle sleep himself on the sofa himself. He was - until he heard the distinct squeak of the bed springs on your side, a distinct huff from you as you got out of bed.

"Derek," You sighed when you saw what he had done, crossing your arms over your chest - it was an entirely appealing sight; the incredibly small baby perched in the middle of his bare chest, so tiny against Derek's large, muscled frame. But it did make you worry - Alexander wasn't secured in any way - he could fall, he could roll off. Even though Derek was an incredibly capable, loving parent, even in the haze of sleep, he could roll over and crush the baby.

It scared you.

"What - are you gonna take him from me?" He glared at you, deep betrayal in his voice. It was clear that the only thing keeping him from raising his voice further was the restraint not to yell so close to the baby's ear. "Do you honestly think that I would hurt my son?"

You held back tears, hating how much the insinuation clearly pained Derek.

"Never." You told him, your own tears choking your throat. "Derek, I know that you would never hurt him intentionally. But-"

"Exactly." He replied, cutting you off. "And there is nothing that will harm him. I am not going to let it happen."

You sighed, putting a hand to your forehead in frustration.

Derek shook his head, sitting up, putting a hand against Alexander's diapered bum to support him - able to hold nearly the entirety of his tiny body with one hand.

"Didn't you notice that all of those articles you read are written by humans?" He pointed out. "This is something that my family has done for generations. Our senses are honed for stuff like this. The moment that a baby is born, we sleep differently. Haven't you noticed?"

You had noticed - you felt like you had been sleeping with only half your brain, like a shark. You thought it was something your mother had warned you about, how you would never get a full night's rest again after having a baby. But it felt different. You did wake up rested, but you didn't dream anymore. You felt conscious nearly the entire time you were asleep - hyper aware of everything, your body responsive to every single coo, every little noise the baby made. You became hyper aware of the rhythm of his heartbeat while you slept, often using it as a white noise machine while you laid there.

"Yeah." You admitted - Derek gave you a subtle smug grin, and nodded.

"I'm not going to hurt him, not even by accident - because I can't." Derek told you firmly. "I will wake up the minute he cries, and I won't shift in my sleep. And this is healthy for us. Our heartbeats will sync up and this will help him sleep better. Please, just trust me on this."

Derek rarely pleaded with you about things, rather than outright telling you - so you knew that this mattered to him greatly.

"Yes. I trust you." You told him. "Come back to bed?" You posed. "All of us in the same bed."

He smiled, and leaned in to kiss you before he got up off the couch, bringing your son with him.

(When you woke up the next morning, the crib was smashed to pieces, and Derek - who was in the kitchen making breakfast with Alexander still pressed to one shoulder - claimed that he had no idea how it happened.)

...

Teen Wolf Masterlist

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Heyyyyyyyy so I'm posting like 3/4 of this fic here for y'all. It's incredibly self indulgent and I'm not sorry at all 🩷🩷🩷

WARNING THIS IS SMUT‼️ MINORS DNI‼️

Stan and his new neighbor have a little too much chemistry

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

It had been around a month or so since you met Stanley and it had been nothing short of fantastic. He was an allegedly somewhat reformed con-man turned sailor. Although it definitely shone through, he was extremely persuasive, not to mention charming. Gosh you had it bad, you tried really hard to remind yourself that he was more than twice your age and you shouldn't be lusting after some poor old man who was just being nice to you but it just fell on deaf ears. It seemed that all rational thought flew right out of your empty head the second his handsome squared jaw came into view or he wore one of his undershirts out and you could see his chest hair peeking out from the neckline. If he did anything really, he was just overall distracting without needing to actually do anything to lead you astray.

Little did you know Stan was having similar woes. He felt awful, he felt like he was taking advantage of you and your friendship. Every time you bent over he was looking at your ass or your cleavage, every time you wore shorts as a reprieve from the summer heat his eyes were glued to your legs. No matter how much he tried he just couldn't stop thinking these hideously inappropriate thoughts about you.

The worst part about it was that he actually liked you, he felt like an idiot. Some foolish old man looking to reclaim his youth or something lusting after some hot young thing. In truth you did make him feel young, almost as much as you made him feel old. Keeping lively conversation with you was a breeze, your personality and snark always kept him on his toes and made him feel like the smooth young man he once was some 30 odd years ago. Then there would be those moments where you'd have to explain a reference or some type of modern lingo or technology that would bring him into the present where he was pushing 70 and you weren't even pushing 30. It sucked.

Despite your more morally deplorable thoughts about Stanley you did spend a good deal of time with him, which is what you were doing at present. You had volunteered to help with the kids earlier on in the day since both Stan and Ford had things to attend to concerning the Stan O War 2 that required them to go out of town for a portion of the day. It was Sunday and your little shop was closed for the day so you had no issue with spending some quality time with Mabel and Dipper, who were absolutely wonderful children.

Now it was later into evening and both Stan and Ford had returned a few hours ago and you had stuck around to help with dinner. You were currently sitting on the porch with Stan while nursing a beer. It was nice, homey even. Which was odd to think about since at heart you weren't a small town kind of girl, yet here you were in this absolutely miniscule town in the middle of nowhere Oregon feeling like you belonged. Truthfully it was the people that made you feel that way, here you were wanted, needed even. Sitting here next to Stan made it all so clear, you just wish he'd be the type to need you too.

Surprisingly Stan felt relaxed, he was originally nervous sitting out here with you alone. Being alone with you had been a really big point of anxiety for him over the past month since he wouldn't have anything else to switch his attention to once his mind started to wander to places it had no right to. He had been dwelling over your relationship with him, it was all fun and laughs but there were some moments where your like for him really shone through. Now, here on the porch of his own home he sat in the comfort of your company and everything was good.

Turns out everything was NOT good. He was having a heart attack he swears, an aneurysm maybe because this couldn't be happening. You had both decided to have a few more drinks while sitting together on the old sofa sitting out on the porch which was all fine and dandy. But what he hadn't quite anticipated was for both of you to get a little overzealous while tipsy and deciding to have a little more fun and break out the hard liquor. An even more unanticipated turn was when at some point you decided that you weren't close enough to him and quite literally plastered yourself to his side which is what brought on the definitely NOT ok and extremely unwarranted hard-on.

He feels like a teenager right now, his body reacting to you in a way that's somewhat unprecedented given your current position but all he can think about is the way your curves are pressing against his side and how you are borderline groping his bicep. The flirty banter you had started trading off wasn't helping the situation in the slightest either, adding more fuel to the fire and keeping his shame at an all time high since it was a relatively normal interaction for the two of you.

You were a bit tipsy at this point, having a little bit more liquor than you should've while having a friendly drink with your neighbor. The neighbor that you had situated yourself rather comfortably against his side, only mildly aware of just how much you had encroached on his personal space, not that you could find it in yourself to care. He was just so warm and his arms were sooo big, which is what you currently found yourself enamoured with. At this point you were basically hanging off the poor man, hip to hip, hands casually sliding across his muscular shoulder and bicep.

“So Stan have you always been this stacked or is this what being on a boat for a year does to a guy?”

You could feel heat rise to your cheeks, unsure if it was at your boldness or the effects of the alcohol in your system. You could feel Stan tense for a moment under your fingers before his head turned to you and flashing you a grin before taking another swig of his drink. You let out a breathy little giggle when you felt him purposely flex his arms under you, feeling entirely lightheaded which only increased when he let out a small grunt, jaw clicking while he regarded you with an intense yet unreadable expression.

The atmosphere seemed to change drastically, the tension was palpable and left you feeling extremely tense. You felt like you were moving in slow motion as you leaned over to put down your drink on the small side table next to you. Even more slowly you turned your body fully to face Stan, gently placing your hand back on his arm which was met by the hand of his other arm gently holding yours in its place.

Your nerves were totally shot, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest as you tentatively laid your head on his shoulder while your other hand went to play with the good chain around his neck. You felt more than heard the shaky exhale of breath Stan let out.

“Stan. I really like you. I mean it and I know things are….. complicated but it doesn't matter, not to me. I just-”

Your stuttered rambling was brought to an abrupt halt as Stan’s hand moved from its place in your own up to your jaw, pulling your gaze to meet his own. For a single, terrifying moment he didn't say anything, just stared into the depths of your eyes, seemingly searching for something before meeting your lips with his own. It was slow and tentative and you didn't let yourself hesitate for a second, immediately responding in kind, kissing back with zeal. A soft groan left Stan's throat at your enthusiasm that sent tingles down your spine, settling in the cradle of your hips and causing you to sigh dreamily into the kiss. You continued to lean further into him, forcing you both into a more reclined position. Clearly encouraged by your actions, he moved with more confidence and surety than before; large hands moving slowly down your sides to settle in your waist.

So far the kissing had been fairly innocent which did not stop the not-so-innocent desires that had invited themselves to the forefront of your mind. Cheekily you nipped his bottom lip with your canines playfully. His reaction was instantaneous, suddenly your positions were flipped and you were entirely underneath him on the couch.

Rather than giving you time to recover from the sudden vertigo and absolute shock at his very attractive display of strength he took advantage of your gasp of surprise and slid his tongue into your mouth. It was hot, you were hot and hell he was scalding as his tongue found yours and coiled around the smooth muscle.

Your body was on fire and you were embarrassingly panting desperately when he withdrew, heart hammering in your chest as his lips found your throat, biting a kiss into your jugular and sealing your voice away.

“Didn't know you felt that way Toots. Lucky me.”

His breath was hot on your neck, you could feel him grin into your skin before dashing his tongue across your collarbone. You couldn't think straight, hell you couldn't think at all, not with his body weight on top of you and his mouth on the curve of your neck. You wanted to say something, anything about how he made you feel, how he made you feel wanted, desperate. Your hands snaked their way into his hair, trying to ground yourself while you found enough of your voice to reply.

“I've felt that way since- ah - you came into the garage the other month.”

He stopped then, his teeth grazing the skin just above the neckline of your tank top, suddenly pulling away from you to grin rakishly down at you.

“Since you met me huh? So it wasn't just my imagination all those times I thought you were makin goo-goo eyes at me. Not very nice of ya to have those kinds of thoughts about an old man.”

You matched his grin while groping at his arms again and wrapping a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer to nip at his ear.

“And just what are you gonna do about it Stanley?”

A broken sound erupted from within his chest that reverberated through your own before he essentially pinned you to the couch and absolutely ravished your mouth. It was sloppy, all tongue and teeth but it was oh so delicious. There was a clumsy sort of insistence that boiled over into desperation as his glasses dug into your cheek. At this point you noticed that wasn't the only hard object that was meeting soft flesh as you suddenly became very aware of a certain part of his anatomy digging into your thigh

The pure unadulterated lust you felt for the man struck you right in the temples, making you dizzy with want. Despite all this you were aware of where you were and your proximity to several unsuspecting parties that definitely did not need to be made aware of the two people who were about two seconds from fucking on the porch.

Reluctantly and with an immense amount of self control you put your hands on Stan’s chest and pushed him a tad off of you. Immediately you saw the panic in his face, insecurity and shame taking over as he sat up on his haunches.

“God, geez kid I'm so sorry I-”

You wasted no time stopping his distress by following him up and placing your index finger over his lips to silence him, followed by a reassuring peck on the cheek that melted away all the worry on his face like one of those pineapple popsicles he liked on a summer afternoon.

“Stan. As much as I'd love to continue, I think this isn't the most appropriate setting.”

You gestured to the house and it's proximity. He let out a small, somewhat awkward chuckle and smoothed his hands up your waist again, seemingly seeking comfort in you before retreating and standing up, offering his hand to you. After helping you off of the couch he moved to steer you into the house until you stopped him short, having a much better idea. You didn't give him enough time to fall into anxiety and grabbed his hand, leading him towards your own home instead.

You both stumbled and giggled all the way to your property, stealing chaste kisses and groping each other cheekily, much like a pair of witless teenagers would and it was perfect.By the time you made it inside Stan's patience had run out. He displayed this openly by fully pinning you against the now closed front door, his mouth finding yours in the fray once more, devouring.

You couldn't get enough of him, you were grasping and pawing at his chest and shoulders while your mouths molded together feverishly. Stan was no better, his hands had smoothed down past your waist before grabbing two handfuls of ass, hoisting your lower half upwards to circle around his hips.

This was by far the closest you had both gotten so far, he had you well and truly pinned. You were chest to chest with the weight of his prominent stomach pressed deliciously against your abdomen. Returning the favor, your right hand dropped to Stan's ass and squeezed, a loud groan coming from him as you adjusted your grip to pull him further against you before grinding hard into his front. This earned you a loud, delightfully scandalous ‘fuck’ into the side of your neck. Stan took a moment to breath before reciprocating and grinding the hard line of his cock over your clothed center. This action pulled a rather graphic and undignified noise from your throat that had you moving to slap your hand over your mouth out of pure shock and embarrassment. Your endeavor was stopped short however by Stanley who had caught and shoved your hand back against the door.

“None of that Sugar. I wanna hear everything comin out of that pretty little mouth. No hidin.”

His voice was at such a low timbre you felt like it shook you as you nodded in response to his request. No more than two seconds later you had resumed your ministrations, tightening the circle of your hips and grinding against him at a staggeringly slow pace. Really it was too slow for you but this way you got to see just how terribly you affected him. And boy was it ever, his face was flushed, glasses close to falling off the bridge of his nose and he was panting so heavily his body moved with the effort.

Smiling mischievously at him you pulled him back to you into an absolutely scalding kiss, wrapping your tongue around his own and sucking. Abruptly you stopped the kiss, licking up to his ear before angling your hips to get better friction on your clit and letting out an entirely too loud pornographic moan directly into Stan's ear.

“That's it yer in for it now Toots!”

You positively giggled as he hurriedly put you down, leaning back against the door to find the stability your wobbly legs couldn't give you. Stan gave you a jesting sneer as he straightened to his full height, back cracking, before throwing you over his shoulder rather unceremoniously. Both the sudden lightheadedness and the absurdity of the turn of events and tone threw you into a fit of giggles. Although this was cut extremely short by Stan’s right hand clapping hard over your ass.

“None of that now Sweetcheeks.”

You positively grin, turning your head to attempt to meet his eyes.

“I thought you said you wanted to hear everything that came out of this pretty mouth?”

That earned you another smack on the ass along with a nonsensical mumble of feigned displeasure at your comment as he began walking towards the back of your house.

After about a minute of giving upside down directions to your bedroom and feeling up Stan’s back you were promptly deposited onto your bed with a soft bounce. You took a moment to admire Stan from your place on the bed as you let him help take off your shoes. The corner of his mouth was curled up into a small smirk while his eyes focused on his task. You noticed that he had pushed his glasses back up to their proper place even though it did absolutely nothing to hide how wrecked he actually looked. His tank top was all wrinkled from your insistent pawing, face and neck covered in small smudges of lip gloss that shimmered in the soft moonlight that illuminated your room and his hair was mussed enough to be sticking out in all directions.

You decided it was cute like that; it gave him a sort of boyish charm. You gave him a soft smile when he caught you admiring him, blushing a bit before giving your ankle a lingering kiss. Now that both your shoes had been handled Stan continued onward, pressing your legs apart so he could slot himself between them on his knees. His rough calloused palms smoothed up your legs, stopping at your knees so he could use them to pull you closer to him. His hands kept moving further up your legs as your own slithered back into his grey hair, using the hair at the base of his neck to pull him into a steamy kiss.

You both slipped back into a tangle of kissing, getting entirely lost grinding slowly against each other until Stan’s wandering hand found it’s way to the front of your shorts where he palmed your clothed sex. Your lips immediately left his with a lewd pop to let out a pitiful whine from the back of your throat.

“Stan- please.”

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for, everything was too hot, your brain was scrambled; too much of a sex addled mess to have any coherent thought past wanting to fuck the man above you. All you knew was that you were too hot and needed both of you to get as naked as possible as soon as possible.

Following this line of thought you put your hands on Stan’s chest, pushing him back just enough to rip your tank top over your head and throw the piece of fabric across the room with no amount of grace. Stan’s eyes drank in the sight of you topless, the fabric of your bra hardly containing the full breasts beneath. Eyes that nearly bulged out of his skull at the further sight of you reaching behind you to unclasp your bra; a task he was all too eager to assist with. After lightly slapping your hands out of the way his arms curled around you almost reverently and unclasping the undergarment. He rested his head on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses over your right shoulder as he slid the straps off your shoulders and dropping the bra off the side of the bed and to the wayside.

He took a moment to fully appreciate you then; completely bare from the waist up, eyes contouring the fullness of your breasts, watching your nipples harden further after being exposed to the cool night air. Not being able to help himself he leaned back over you and swirled his tongue around a pert nipple, bringing his left hand to brace against the bed and his right to fondle your left breast. His hands and mouth lavished your full chest to his heart’s content, pinching and pulling and biting his pleasure. The reactions he got out of you were nothing short of heavenly, all soft sighs and moans that went straight to his dick which was now rutting against the bed in this position. His attentions only faltered when you started tugging on the arm of his tank top, demanding that he take it off to match your nudity.

“Off. Now. I can’t be the only one with no shirt, it's not fair.”

You whined into his hair, eyes following the muscles of his shoulders as he sat up to haul the offending garment up and over his head. He gave you a bashful smile then, feeling a tad self conscious at first despite your clear desire for him. You however had no such follies and went straight to feeling him up wherever you could reach from your position beneath him. Your much smaller hands glided over his soft stomach reverently, working their way up to his pectorals and running your fingers through the swath of chest hair that covered them before grasping a bicep to bring him back into you for yet another searing kiss.

“See something you like I take it?”

You nipped at his lips in response, licking your teeth and looking up at him rakishly.

“Yeah, you Stan. All of you."

You further emphasized your statement by shuffling down and taking a nipple between your teeth, further returning the favor for his previous attention to your own breasts no more than a minute ago. This sprung him into immediate action, in one swift motion he took both your pants and your underwear off with the same kind of showmanship of a magician taking off a tablecloth from beneath cutlery.

You gasped in shock which turned into a full on moan as Stan threw both of your legs over his shoulders and descended.

“Sweet Moses you’re soaked down here Sweetheart.”

Your face burned bright red at his words, punctuated by the feeling of his hot breath on your inner thighs. He looked to your face for a moment, watching you lecherously as he slowly and purposefully spread your slick with two fingers, producing an extremely lewd squelch before sending a wink your way.

“Hold on tight Sugar.”

That was all the warning you received before he dove into your cunt like a man starved. It was delectable, the way he swirled his tongue around your clit was calculated, his spread fore and middle finger holding you open for the onslaught, stubble scraping against your inner thighs deliciously. The sounds alone were obscene and had you wanting to close your eyes to attempt to escape them but you simply couldn’t tear your eyes away from the absolute vision between your legs.

Stan’s glasses were as far up the bridge of his nose as they could go and completely fogged up. The parts of his mouth and chin you could see when he occasionally resurfaced was coated in your arousal and his hair was a wreck under your fingers. And when his eyes would meet yours in your apparent gawking? God you could just cum from that alone, but you wanted it to last.

However once his mouth had suctioned over your clit and carefully slid in his forefinger to the knuckle you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, throwing your head back into the pillows and letting out a long salacious moan. One that immediately increased in volume as he added a second finger into the mix and crooked his fingers.

You were so close, hanging by a thread and the hand in his hair as he ate you out with gusto. You accidentally yanked his hair when he started a scissoring motion which tore a ragged groan from him as he adjusted his grip on your legs and hauled you further into him. The slight adjustment in position allowed his tongue to go deeper, ripping another moan from your lungs.

The fever broke and the wire snapped as now three of Stan’s fingers curved upwards, sliding over the gummy nodes of your sex. You felt your whole body convulse; thighs tight around his head and heels digging into his back as you howled out your pleasure, screaming his name wantonly into the dark of your bedroom. He diligently worked you through your orgasm, finally slowing to a stop when your thighs fell limply around his head.

Gently he slid your legs off his shoulders and moved back up the bed to join you, giving you a moment to recover before meeting you in a passionate kiss that you could taste yourself on. It seemed you had missed something in the haze of your orgasm because when he ground against you there were no layers separating you from the thick line of his cock. The movement brought forth a moan from both of your lips, breathed into one another as Stan took a hold of your hip. He moaned out your name softly as he felt your hand slide down to take his cock in hand. You snuck a look down between your bodies to get a better look at what you were up against.

Damn. You were in for it good, about 7 inches you’d wager and thick enough that you struggled a little to make a full fist around it. It was pulsing in your hand, tip pretty and pink with a copious amount of precum leaking from it. Taking pity on him and feeding into your renewed arousal you dashed your thumb over the slit, gathering what was there and using it to slowly slide your hand down to the base. Stan moaned openly, loudly and unabashedly when you gave him another tight pump. Before you could continue he stopped your hand and kissed you hard, stopping any complaints and pinning your hand back into the sheets above your head. You watched with rapt attention as braced himself with one strong arm and guided himself to your entrance.

Much to your dismay Stan did not push forward and into where you wanted him most but instead teasingly slid the entirety of his length through your folds, sawing his hips back and forth at a torturously slow pace. It was truly torture to be so close yet so far away from what you desperately wanted. You whined pathetically and attempted to mount him and he just let out a low mean chuckle into your neck, biting at the skin bared to him.

“Staaaaan!”

“Whaddya want?”

He asked rather dismissively, continuing his traitorous teasing. You let out a pouty huff and pinched his shoulder which resulted in him halting his ministrations, completely taking away the small amount of friction you were actually receiving and any reprieve from you now throbbing clit.

“Ya need something there Sweetcheeks? Ya gunna tell me what that is?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, frustrated at the teasing but also incredibly turned on.

“Please Stanley.”

You pouted at him even further when he made no move to continue.

“If ya really want something yer gonna have to ask me fer it.”

He was still trailing teasing kisses across your throat, humming his pleasure when you grabbed him by the back of his neck to kiss him hotly. You ran kisses up the line of his squared jaw, biting and sucking at his ear before dragging him backwards to look you in the eyes. Batting your eyelashes dramatically, you put on your most sultry simper and dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, watching his eyes follow the movement.

“Please fuck me Mr.Pines.”

And that was all it took. In that moment he drew his lip between his teeth, arched his hips, finally sliding into you. You both simultaneously let out a loud relieved moan as he slowly sank into you. Again the slow saw of his hips returned as he worked himself inside, inch by inch until he was finally fully seated within you, panting hard.

You both took a moment to regain your composure and to let your body adjust to the intrusion, just holding one another in equally shaky arms. It was you who moved first to adjust your leg around his waist to get a little more comfortable in your position, causing him to involuntarily roll his hips and going that much deeper.

“Christ.”

Stan rested his forehead on your shoulder for a moment, gathering himself and then drawing back almost to the tip and then slowly sliding home again. You let out a shuddering gasp as he moaned against the skin of your neck before doing it again and again and again, gold chain swaying tantalizingly above you after each powerful thrust.

“Yer so gorgeous Honey. Feel so good like this.”

The slow build in pace was as maddening as the feeling of his cock sliding against the overly sensitive walls of your cunt as he swore his praise lowly into your collar.

Stan kept at it hard and slow for the first few minutes. Punching ragged, sensual thrusts into you and taking his sweet time savoring the feeling of your body wrapped around him so intimately. This however did not last. Once you started gyrating your hips towards him, meeting his slow and steady pace with zeal and hooking your right leg around his hip, forcing him to match a faster pace.

Both encouraged by your enthusiasm and his body's budding impatience he sat back on his haunches, dragging you with him by your hips to get into a better position to ramp up the pace. And boy did it ever! At this point you were nothing but a babbling mess. Your vocabulary was in shambles; only left with expletives and Stan's name as he quite literally fucked your brains out.

He wasn't fairing much better either. His chest was heaving with effort, sweat had plastered errant strands of hair to his forehead as well as his neck and his glasses were now back to almost falling off of his hooked nose. You could only imagine you looked similarly wrecked, which in that moment you could only hope it was a sight at least half as attractive as the one you had.

Very suddenly Stan pulled from you, putting the breaks on your mounting orgasm. You whined out your immediate displeasure before Stan flipped your positions so that you were now straddling him and he was reclined back on the bed. He gave you a leering grin while grabbing your hips to readjust your position above him.

"Sorry Sweetheart, my back was hurting up there."

A lame excuse if you heard any given the sleazy smile he was sporting but all you gave in response was a playful glare and a chaste peck on the corner of his mouth before he was slamming you back down onto his cock, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs.

He gave you no reprieve, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise and dragging you up and down his length at a pace that stung. Your breathing somewhat recovered, you braced your hands flat on his soft barreled chest and widened your stance to get to work.

You rode him fast and hard; the obscene wet slapping of skin against skin only increased and left the room feeling sweltering even in the night air.

“That’s it sweetheart. Got a real nice view here.”

His calloused hands digging into your hips, thumbs pressed bruisingly into where your pelvic bone met your hips while he aided your movements. You just barely avoided slumping into a pile of pleasured goo when he shifted upwards on the bed to suction himself onto a breast. Instead opting to carelessly claw into his back and shoulders for some semblance of stability. You almost found it in you to feel bad about it until Stan's mouth left your tits with a loud pop to let out a rumbling groan from so deep in his chest that physically shook you.The sound only drove you fuck him harder. The sounds the joining of your bodies made were entirely pornographic; the obscene wet slapping of skin against skin and your mirrored moans resounding in the dark of your room.

The line of being embarrassed at the noises both you and your body were making had been crossed a long time ago, your mind completely erasing any probable thoughts past the push and pull of your body against Stan and his cock dragging against the walls of your sex. After particularly harsh swivel of your hips Stan scrabbled to pull himself up into a sitting position and planting his feet firmly on the mattress below so he could fuck up into you.

“Fuck. Fuck yer gonna kill me kid.”

You nearly collapsed on his chest, the deep gravel of his sexed out voice taking all the power out of your shaking knees.

“God Stan keep talking.”

His eyes flew to your unfocused ones, eyebrows raised in surprise before grinning lecherously at you. He pulled you flush to his chest before leaning in to tongue at the forming hickey where your jaw met your neck.

“So that's how it's gunna be huh? You like me talking? You wanna hear what I gotta say?”

He rasped into your ear, voice dripping with a smug satisfaction that had you clenching hard around him and your nails digging further into his back.

“Yeah you do. You wanna listen to me talk while I fuck up into your cute little pussy huh?”

Your face burned bright at his words, embarrassment fluttering into the corners of your mind alongside your burning lust. You don't get much time to think about the sleaziness of his prior statement for too long as he took hold of your jaw, pulling you back to look at him.

“I asked you a question Sweetheart. It ain't too nice to ask a guy to talk to you and then not respond.”

He held your chin between his fingers, thumb sliding over the bottom lip of your panting mouth, his pace slowing a bit. He waited for you to answer him, watching your eyes uncross and refocus under drooped eyelids, body still bouncing at the force of his own thrusts.

If he had the patience in him he probably would have stopped entirely to tease you and further drive you up the wall but he didn't. Not when you fit so snugly around his cock, the wet slide of your vaginal walls caressing his length each time he punched up into your cervix. He really couldn't find it in himself to fully stop, merely slowing his ministrations to bully an answer from you.

You swore you could feel him in your throat now, the pace had died down substantially; it was almost casual the way he rocked you up and down his shaft with a chummy smile on his face.

You whined pathetically and tried to pull yourself up faster but was met with his strong hands moving you as he pleased.

“Haven't answered my question there Sugar. You wanna go faster you're gonna have to play along.”

He nipped along your collarbone as you let out a thin sound of frustration at his antics. Finding it extremely attractive but not wanting to say it out loud. It was when he bit hard at your shoulder and slammed home in one go that had you throwing your dignity out your bedroom window and moaning his name abashedly.

“Yes! God yes! I love hearing you talk!”

His hold on your hip tightened and you were immediately rewarded by Stan pulling you into his mouth for a peel and pleasure while pistoning up into you with a pace that a machine would envy.

You were so overwhelmed, plundering was the only word that could really describe what he was doing to you. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every available surface and sucking and biting your own lips raw while adjacently his cock plowed it's way through your hot insides over and over and over. Crooning and cooing every scandalous thought he'd had of you over the past month and a half into your ear.

Even with you on top it got to a point where he was essentially railing you from below. His face and chest flushed and covered in sweat from the effort of fucking you, eyelids drooping so low they were almost closed beneath his pinched brow and glasses.

“You close Honey? Cause I sure am. Whaddya need?”

He looked strained, clearly barely hanging on. Trying to bring you to orgasm before chasing his own, very well deserved release.

“Stan, touch me please.”

It was a pathetic little whimper but he heard it loud and clear. You were so close, his pace hurdling you towards the edge faster and faster but you just needed that little extra something to get you there. He wasted absolutely no time, licking the fore and middle fingers of his right hand and finding your neglected clit between your bodies. You moaned triumphantly when he put pressure on it, rubbing fast circles into the taught muscle while his cock pulled in and out of you from below. His pace with both his hips and his fingers was absolutely bruising, essentially trying to bully an orgasm out of your tired abused body as you rocked down onto him.

You literally screamed when he pinched your clit in his fingers. The wire snapping for the second time that night and you came harder than you ever had in your whole life. Your back arching as you howled out your pleasure, a mantra of yeses and Stan's name tumbling from your lips as he fucked you through it. Your body was useless as you shook atop him, being robbed blind by the earth shattering pleasure you felt.

The combination of hearing, seeing and physically feeling you climax around him had Stan racing to find his own end. Eyes flicking between your blissed out expression and the slight of his own cock spearing into you. You sat uselessly astride him as he used your body to chase his own pleasure, the wet sounds of your bodies together even more obscene than before thanks to your orgasm.

You had to see him, you wanted to see what he looked like when he came. Through the bleary haze of your mind you brought your left hand up to his jaw and jerked his face enough to look you in the eyes.

That was all it took as you watched his eyes roll back into his head as he moaned wantonly into your face, hips bucking and cock pushing as deep as it could as he came. A littany of curses and your name leaving his lips as he pumped his release into your waiting sex.

Finally your legs gave out and you collapsed on top of his chest with an exhausted sigh. Both of you were shaking and panting equally as you both respectively regained your grip on the world. Stan's large hands came to smooth up and down your back comfortingly as you tried to even out your breathing. Humming in approval as he rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder blades as you ran your fingers through his chest hair.

“Damn Toots.”

You didn't really know what happened now, clearly there was no awkwardness, not with the way he was touching you, but you didn't exactly know what to say. Saying anything about how you felt just felt way too soon and also you didn't want your sexed addled mess of a brain spilling all of the beans in just how infatuated you were with the man still inside of you.

Instead you pulled your head from his shoulder and kissed him softly, slowly working your jaw against his own lazily in the afterglow. He sighed against you, drawing you into his chest as he shuffled downwards into a more reclined position, his softening cock still inside you. You laid your chin on his chest, looking up at him as you toyed with the good chain around his neck. He met your gaze, a soft look of adoration on his face that made your heart swell and your eyes water.

You just smiled dumbly at him, his expression matching yours as you pushed his glasses back to their rightful place and slicked his hair back and out of his face.

“You really know how to tire a guy out.”

You laughed at that, smacking his chest playfully.

“You kept up real good there cowboy don't sell yourself short.”

He hummed at that, carding his fingers through your hair, fingers occasionally catching at the knots caused by your rigorous lovemaking.

“Didn't realize ya liked my voice like that either, good to know.”

“Sure do.”

He couldn't hide the smugness in his voice, let alone the extremely self satisfied look on his handsome face at your acknowledgement. You decided you'd let him have this one, especially since he was right and had a lot of evidence to back it up. Evidence which you could currently feel slowly collecting around the base of his cock where it rested inside of you.

You must've made a face because Stan patted your hip, forcing you to sit up and made to help you off of where you still sat astride him.

“Alright Sugar, time for the dismount.”

You were faster though, grabbing his wrist and stopping him short as he went to remove himself from you. He regarded you with an arched brow; questioning. You turned beet red, not thinking before your minor outburst and the implications of such.

“I- I wanna stay like this. If that's okay I mean.”

You stuttered out your admission like it physically burned you to do so. For a split second his brows nearly met his hairline before that self satisfied smirk settled back onto his face.

“Ya do huh? Didn't think ya were that kind of girl.”

At that he pulled you back into his embrace. He stopped your trip to hide your burning face into his neck to push your hair gently behind your ear and kiss you again. You could feel his smile against your lips, one you couldn't help but mirror as you felt him pull the covers of the bed over your waist.

You sighed dreamily as you sunk back into his chest, his arm slung heavily across your lower back. You could hear the soft click of him folding his glasses and putting them on the nightstand before his other hand came to join it's twin. You could feel yourself succumbing to the soft allure of slumber as you listened to the steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Hey Stan?"

He grunted softly, sounding closer to sleep than you were. You pressed a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw, cuddling closer.

“Goodnight.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair before you blissfully drifted off to sleep in his arms and into the start of a promising relationship.

[romanoffsbish]

Love Me ‘Til I’m Black and Blue

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Warnings: Manipulative—Mean(Hurt)/Possessive Natasha | Alluded to Drinking | Violence | Smut w/“Minimal” Plot(whatever that means for me lmao) | Angst (Happy Ending)

Smut: Krolick / Slut (R/🐇) | Rough | Bondage (R) | Panty/Ball Gag | Spanking | Temp Play 🕯️🧊| Choking | Teasing | Marking | Strap(R) | Oral (R) | Fingering (R) | Degradation | Overstimulation | Blood / Violence 😀 | Self-Indulgent Fic 🥰

18+ | Minors DNI | Labeled/Please Don’t Report

WC: 4,220

Natasha kneaded the flesh of your ass, she was sweet with her touches, but you knew better than to trust the tenderness. All the redhead wanted was to destroy you wholly. To leave you a moaning, drooling mess, just so she could drag you back to the bar and show off her handiwork to all the patrons that ogled you.

More specifically, she'd throw you towards that bitch who had her tongue down your throat. She'd test her, tease her with the greatest temptation—you, just before she'd strike. Her reputation would remain intact as she'd stage it to seem like she was taking advantage of you.

Breaking Susie Q's nose would be warranted.

——

Fortunately she had the resolve to reel her impulses in, and the trained patience to take things with you painstakingly slow. Well, fortunate to the unsuspecting patrons, and for her, but to you not so much. For you it was all so incredibly daunting as you felt the cool breeze rush over your hot slick as it dripped down your thighs and onto the satin sheets.

"You're so beautiful krolick," she purred as her hands groped your ass particularly hard, you moaned wantonly when her fingers dipped down and grazed your folds and she chuckled huskily, "You're making such a fucking mess."

You felt pathetic, you tried to leave, and here you are with a body that worked against you.

"I'm going to enjoy ruining you Y/N, maybe once I'm done you'll remember who you belong to. Nobody will ever try and touch you again."

This was the worst kind of torture, the redhead had you tied to her bed with your ass up, back arched painfully, and legs spread wide open.

There was familiarity to it, a well practiced dance between the two of you, but you also felt something change in the overall energy.

It'd only been three weeks since she'd had you like this, before you left her without a word in the middle of the night because you wanted more than she was willing to offer. More than a night of bliss meant to be cloaked in secrecy.

Natasha had a hero's reputation to uphold, and you, well the only reputation you had was as the patron buying ben and jerry's at the 7/11 on the corner every other night around 2am.

There was never a reason to publicize her attachment to you, or so she hoped. You were her favorite, best kept secret until now. It was finally made public tonight when she, The Black Widow, was seen pulling you out of the nightclub with a dangerous glint in her eyes. It was obvious you weren't an enemy to any of the passerby's, but you were clearly in trouble.

"You thought you could just move on from us and that there wouldn't be any repercussions?"

You gasped as she slapped both your cheeks, then you whimpered as she dug her nails into the skin until she felt blood pooling beneath. "You're such a fucking slut Y/N, I have given you everything you could ever want, and need, but it's never enough. When will you learn?"

You shockingly cut her off, "Not everything!"

Natasha froze, you were feeling rather bold tonight. No matter, she'd fuck the fight out of you, just as she did every time you acted up.

Her hands started the night off with brutality. With every slap she let her anger shine, there was hardly a reprieve, and if there was one it was followed by a swift slicing of her nail. She only stopped when she heard your soft 'please' as that was an indicator you'd call out the safe word soon if she didn't move passed this part.

The redhead squeezed your hips reassuringly as her hands had glided up, then she soothed the open wounds of your bare ass with her warm tongue. "You're so fucking addicting!" Natasha loved the taste of you, it didn't matter whether it was your blood, sweat, glorious tears or purest essence, she was a fiend for it all.

Natasha was abrupt when she left your behind and moved to your side. You winced as the gust of air breezed over your welted, glistening ass leaving you to feel the rush of a harsh sting.

You peered up as best you could with your face smooshed to the bed, your eyes strained as you watched Natasha move in a flash. You heard more than you saw as the fabric slid down her body, and the bedside drawer had opened.

Then, as if Natasha was giving you a master lesson on senses, you felt her fingers press into your throat, gagging you as she shoved her wet panties into your mouth. Your body shivered as you tasted that addictive essence of hers.

"Gonna Pavlov your ass into remembering the only thing you should ever need," she sneered, "Maybe I'll keep you between my legs from now on, everywhere I go, your mouth follows."

Natasha chuckled as she watched you try to close your eyes to hide your arousal, but your hips twitched and you drooled over the ball gag she'd hastily placed into your mouth so you couldn't remove the panties. It was as if you couldn't help but to need to prove her right.

"There you go krolick, you're already behaving accordingly." Her fingers gently traced over the curvature of your face before she disappeared.

The next thing you heard was the faint sound of a flame being ignited, your body followed suit with goosebumps as you wondered what was going on behind you. Natasha watched with delight as you unconsciously squirmed.

She was standing behind you just out of sight with a burning candle in her hand. It was black upon first glance, but as the wax slowly melted it mixed with the bright red layered beneath to create a perfect crimson pool at her disposal.

"Try to stay still now, let's not ruin the sheets just yet detka, I'd rather let your juices do the bulk of that," she husked as her finger dragged up your spine from the tip of your tailbone. A bit of foreshadowing really since only seconds later had she tipped the candle and delighted in the way that the wax slid down your skin as you screamed out in muffled agony. "There you go detka, embrace the burn and feel just how I have felt ever since you walked out on me!"

The woman beamed when you sobbed harder, you should feel remorse for what you've done. Natasha was a sadist by design, but her heart was soft for you at the core, so within a minute (or two) of letting you endure the painful burn she was soothing, and shocking you, as she ran a piece of ice down the same trail of your spine.

The wax fully hardened once more, and you whimpered through the doubled gag to let her know you were appreciative as the cool water dripped down and soothed the agitated skin.

"See krolick?" Her frigid fingertips followed the trail of water to further soothe your sensitive skin. "I'd never ice you out like you did to me, all I want is for you to be happy; in my arms."

With your mind in a state of pure confusion on if this was pleasurable or not she added to it as she began littering the remaining exposed skin of your back with bruises and teeth marks. She smirked against you, relishing in the way that you moaned freely as she marked your skin up.

"I need to see you as I fuck you," she growled against the nape of your neck, her hips firmly pressed into the raging skin of your brutalized ass, and it was then you felt the massive cock.

Natasha flipped you onto your back with little warning, causing you to cry out as your nearly numb limbs were forcefully tangled as your restraints remained. Besides the gags that she swiftly removed and tossed across the room. You gasped at not only your overwhelming soreness, but also your access to breathing had been restored. Momentarily that was, because Natasha was not abstaining for a single second.

The woman was fierce as she slammed her lips into yours, her tongue explored your mouth for what felt like eons. Once she finally retracted the muscle her teeth came out to play. Pearly whites soon gnawed your lower lip between hers, she gave a deceitfully soft suckle to it before she pierced the sensitive layer of skin.

Natasha took great pleasure in feeling the gush against the back of her teeth, so she dared to bite down even harder and twist the lower lip up until your throat shook with a pitiful sob.

The familiar taste of iron flooded your mouth, Natasha pulled away just in time to see your eyes widen as you mulled over just how busted your lip must look. Only for your suspicions to be confirmed at the sight of her devilish grin, Natasha looked down with eyes that spoke of possession, and with teeth stained in crimson.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this," she beamed, "Completely at my mercy, my poor, defenseless krolick whatever will you do?"

The question was rhetorical, yet you felt bold enough to answer it. "Leave in the night again."

A harsh slap bounced off the walls of the room and you choked on your bloody saliva as your head flew into the strained muscle of your shoulder, further smearing blood on your body.

"Don't threaten someone who has you tied up, and could make the world forget you exist!"

For a moment everything stopped, you looked into her eyes and only saw traces of honesty. Natasha had never made such a threat before, you'd always had the opened door policy, but something in her eyes died with your words. It was as if she was out of compassion for you, as if you had committed a truly heinous crime.

Such as breaking her heart, something that's usually dealt with by a heartbeats sudden end. Her gaze alone told you that, but her sideways smirk whispered out it wouldn't be that easy.

Every last part of your mind, body and soul should've wanted to run, this wasn't healthy. You even willed your brain to formulate a plan of escape, but your body vehemently refused. Natasha worked you up well, and the feral lilt in her gaze only spurred your arousal on.

Deep down you knew she was hurting, and in the bedroom her anger almost always lead her movements. Whether it be after a mission, or upon seeing someone else near you, she would have you sprawled out beneath her and fucked dumb in minutes. The soft, intimate sex that told you Natasha loved you was rare, and only ever came on nights where she drank herself into a wine haze. The drink romanticized her.

Seeing you dancing with another made her deadly, you were learning jealousy wasn't always the safest bet, but you also knew that this was likely going to be life changing sex.

You were already excessively dripping for her.

Your heart also hoped it would bring about change elsewhere, but for now your mind was muddling with incessant need. Natasha could feel it as her lips hovered your racing pulse, she smirked against the skin, and you were caught.

"Your poker face could use some work, your words and your physiology don't align," her fingers taunted you as they dipped inside of your slick velvet warmth, caressing your walls with roughened fingertips, but never enough to suffice the burning desire for you to be filled.

"Admit that you're mine krolick, and I'll fuck your tight little hole, I can feel it pulsing," she chuckled when your body froze in defiance but your walls fluttered, "Don't deny yourself pleasure by being a stubborn bitch now Y/N..."

"I'm as much yours as you are mine Natasha," you retorted with a bitterness that left the redhead to roll her eyes at your cheeky reply, and to prove herself annoyed she slapped your cunt, making you scream at the brutal force in which your clit had just been assaulted with.

"Semantics are such a bitch." Natasha bit hard into your neck as she grumbled, "Just say what you mean, or keep your lips sealed shut slut."

Natasha hovered over you now, blood dribbling down her chin wearing a glare as sharp as her jawline. You could see in her eyes that she was battling over what to do next. Her hands rested lightly on your chest and her strap pressed into your thigh as she held back on ravishing you. Natasha wanted you to wait for your pleasure, the same way she'd waited for you to return.

"You're so pretty when you're quiet," she noted, then just as you went to pettily reply she wrapped her hand around your throat and a moan replaced your words. Getting caught in your throat as she cut your access to oxygen off fully. Natasha bit her lip as she saw your eyes filling with dread and a swirl of mistrust.

"Maybe I'll put you to sleep, and use you in peace," Natasha grinned devilishly when your eyes widened further in a clear plead. "This is a warning then, be a good girl if you want to be awake when I make your tense body release." Natasha winked, her harsh grip relented slightly, but it remained as she, without any warning, slammed her hips forward and filled your slick cunt with her thick silicone shaft.

The way the bulbous tip slammed into your cervix had you losing sight for a moment, your eyes crossed as your throat bobbed against her palm, and your back had arched all over again.

The redheads hips stilled as soon as they met yours, for a moment it was serene as her forehead pressed into yours. Her hand fell from your neck as she lost herself for a bit. Her shaky breaths fanned across your face, and you smiled at your obvious effect on the woman.

In some deluded way Natasha believed she could feel the squeeze of your cunt, her clit pulsed at the thought. It always drove her wild how your walls would hold her strap captive, even when you were as sopping wet as you were now. It gave her that desirable friction against her clit while it restricted her hips.

Once you sighed she knew she could move, so she took in a large inhale then slowly pulled the strap back out of you. You braced yourself for the storm that always followed the brief moment of calm, and in seconds your eyes were rolled back into the darkness of your mind as she set a brutal pace. Nothing but the white of your eyes was visible to the redhead.

Having you fucked out like this was something she took great pride in. No one would ever be able to satisfy you like she always did, and she knew you were just too stubborn to admit it.

But your body never failed to sing her praises. "Fuck," she groaned as your hips canted up and caused her thrusts to falter, "You see how your body moves with mine? It's because it knows its destined place is to be beneath mine. You're mine krolick!" The bed shook with just how powerful her thrusts had become, you knew she was probably thinking back to the bar.

Your heart grew guilty, and you gave in then. "Yours," you whimpered, and she instantly pressed her lips to yours as her hand weaved between your bodies. Daft fingers spread the peak of your cunt to expose your puffy clit, and she smirked against your parted lips as you screamed. The pleasure instantaneously took you over, a simple swirl of her thumb and you were gushing around her strap. Slick drenched the sheets, her thighs, and your ass as well.

Natasha didn't stop, she merely lifted your legs and kept going. You couldn't even catch your breath before she had your body building back up to a place of ecstasy with the deeper angle of each harsh thrust. Her sloppy thrusts told you that she was close herself and this was her simply chasing her release down without shame, and in turn rewarding you with more.

When Natasha came crashing down her face landed right in between your breasts, her breathing ragged for all of thirty seconds. The widow's stamina was alarming, she'd began to nip and suck as her hips shallowly thrusted. Keeping your cunt engaged as she slowly let her mouth love upon your sensitive breasts. 

"Natasha," you whimpered but she pulled away with a sweet smile, her lips pecked yours then she was gone completely. Her strap naturally slipped from inside of you, but just as quickly as you felt your cunt hollow out you were full again as she had kissed down your body in a giddy haste to reach your puffy slicked lips.

Natasha's tongue lapped at your folds, her throaty moans due to the taste of you drove your wild as she plunged her tongue inside of you as far as it could go, and you mewled at the way they vibrated through your cunt. It wasn’t more than seconds before you met her thrusts with renewed intentions. Seconds prior you were begging for her to stop, to cease her thrusting but now you didn't want it to end.

It hadn’t been that long since she last had you spread out like this, with her hands gripping your thighs in a vice grip to keep you wide open as her tongue unleashed havoc upon your cunt. But a week without to her was more like a year, and it’d already been three weeks too many.

Which is why she wasn’t relenting, you tried to shimmy away at one point but Natasha wasn’t having it. She growled viciously, and nibbled on the skin of your thighs in warning, then dove right back in. It was growing increasingly unbearable as you’d not only cum more times then you could count at this point, but the ache in your shoulders was persistently throbbing.

What finally brought her to a stop was when you gushed around her fingers that she’d only just barely slipped inside of you, your thighs quivered then clamped shut so tightly that it kept her lower face and arm from moving. All Natasha could do was sigh in contentment as she felt your essence dripping down her palm, and gushing into her mouth and up her nose.

Natasha reluctantly pulled away when you’d finally unleashed your hold on her head, a smile on her face as the first whiff of air she took in was overtaken by your essence. She hoped the alluring smell wouldn’t fade fast.

Your legs fell into the mattress and she found herself immediately enamored by the sight of you. Your entire body was spent; truly wrecked, and she loved it. Sweat layered your body, causing any dried blood to lighten and pool atop of your skin. There was an array of marks left behind, she wondered if she had lost control in an undesirable way, but her heart absolutely beamed with a negation as she felt it was a warranted response to nearly losing you.

While you worked to merely catch your breath Natasha was up on her feet, removing the harness and grabbing a water from the mini fridge. Then, as you laid there with a fucked out face, with your eyes closed, she’d crawled back up the bed and straddled your body as she worked on removing your jumbled restraints.

The whimper you let out was absolutely pitiful, and it only made you that much more adorable to her. She was oblivious to the genuine pain, so for now she aided you in guzzling down the bottle water. You didn’t register any of it, but Natasha was whispering the sweetest of words against the heated skin of your numb shoulder as she cuddled up incredibly close to you.

The moment was perfect—fleetingly so…

As your mind returned to you it reminded you that it was time to go, the redhead was nearly asleep, and as great as the sex was she wasn't showing any interest in talking this all out. Natasha felt the jolt of your body and her hand flew out to stop you, she moved her body atop of yours and burrowed her head into your neck, as her arms slid between you and the mattress.

"Natasha, let me go, it's already late enough."

"No, you don't need to go Y/N," she mumbled, "You're safe here, with me, where you belong."

"I do not belong anywhere but in my own bed," you growled, then even though your body ached you flipped her onto the bed and sprung to your feet before she could catch you again.

"You're being so ridiculous Y/N!" The redhead shouted, inside she was panicking as you were hastily pulling your scattered clothing back on.

"Wanting to be more than a secret is fair! What's ridiculous is how you play me every single time you get me back into your bed'"

"I'm not playing you," she stammered in hurt. You sighed, "and you don't love me Natasha."

"God, you really are being ridiculous Y/N. I love you so fucking much, can't you see that?!" You scoffed bitterly, "Natasha, love is not something that's meant to be hidden! We've not been on one date in two years together."

"It is when I live with a constant target on my back!" She screamed before she crumpled right to her knees before you, with uncharacteristic tears streaming down her face, she held onto your legs to keep you from leaving her again.

Natasha's life has been misery without you, she wasn't going to give you up without a fight.

"I'm on missions all the time Y/N, I didn't want you stuck at the compound, because now that will be your reality. My humanity won't survive if you were to die because of your ties to me."

You felt stupid, truly, because it wasn't like you didn't discuss the reasons with her before. She was just usually more vague, dismissing you with half-truths, her emotions were never this transparent, and now you saw it more clearly.

Natasha cried harder when you forced her off of you, she wouldn't actually hold you against your will, but she was just hoping you'd stay. That she didn't run you off to the point that you didn't love her anymore. She looked up when the door shut expecting to be alone in her misery, but you were sat down with a sad smile leaning against it. "Come here my love."

The redhead reached you in seconds, her body slammed into yours and for now you decided it best to just let the silence speak for itself, and hopefully mend your equally fragile hearts. It seemed to work too as her sobs died out, and you felt truly at peace for the first time in ages.

"Just promise that this won't be our forever," you broke the silence. "Tell me that one day you will retire, and we can live more freely."

Natasha pulled back with a resolute smile. "Funny enough, I never had imagined a life outside of Avenging until you came along."

You smiled like a child, it was the purest one you'd ever flashed her and she couldn't stop from leaning up to kiss you. "I promise you that we'll be free from this life one day Y/N. Our destiny will be more than just surviving."

"Then I'll be happy to be Wanda's live in bestie whenever you must leave for the worlds sake."

"I was thinking of leaving you with Steve," she deadpanned and you slapped her shoulder, but just as soon regretted it when you felt a sharp pain course through from your hand through your aching shoulders over to the other side.

Natasha frowned at the sharp inhale you took. "Oh krolick, I was too rough," she whispered in clear understanding, and shushed you when you tried to brush off her concern. "Don't, I should have been more in control, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I loved it Nat," you interrupted her, she quirked a teasing brow, and matched your happiness with a smug smirk at the revelation. "I think just maybe the restraints were a bit too much, like, when you roughly flipped me over."

"I think the restraints were necessary for the sake of our engagement not becoming a murder scene," she teased while standing up, you rolled your eyes but took her hands in yours so she could gently pull you up next.

"Natasha, I am covered in my own blood."

"Are either of us dead though?" You snorted, "Wait! Are you saying you were worried I'd kill you, the infamous Black Widow who could take out a room of men without breaking a sweat?"

"I am saying that it was tense, and I properly fucked the brat out of you. Now get into the bathroom krolick, I'll be right behind you."

——

[imagine-you]

I'll Be the Vision of Your Happiness (Dallas Winston/Reader)

Summary: "And then there was Dallas Winston. He was a troublemaker through and through and while he spent too much time behind bars for your liking, he also crashed on the couch in your living room often enough that you couldn't help but consider him a part of the fucked up little family you had. He was a rebel and a notorious flirt and had an obvious thing for you. You couldn't take him or his advances seriously, though. Not when he was always looking for his next fight or lay."  Word Count: 5.7k Author's Note: Just a silly, self-indulgent little thing I've had on my mind for years. I finally decided to write because damn it, I had to. Reader is Darry's, Soda's, and Ponyboy's sister. Just a year younger than Darry. Title comes from the song Earth Angel, because that was the title of this fic up until a few moments ago. Huge canon divergence in this fic...because I had to.

Read on AO3

Everyone on your side of town had a rough life, but growing up, you never would have guessed. Your parents had done their best to shield you from the worst of it and it wasn't until they were gone that you realized just how much they did for you and your brothers.  

Even though you were only a year younger than him, Darry tried to take full responsibility for you and your younger brothers. He quit school and got himself a job and then another one when he realized that wasn't going to cut it. When you tried to follow in his footsteps, he chewed you out for trying to ruin your life.  

"You even think of dropping out and so help me--" 

"So you get to bear the weight of all of our worlds on your shoulders, but I can't help? What the fuck, Dar? That's not fair," you argued, knowing that getting Darryl to budge would be near impossible, but you had to try.  

"Watch your language," Darry scolded, shooting you a disapproving glare.  

"You're not dad, Dar," you reminded him. "And just because you're the oldest--" 

"All of you are my responsibility. Who else is going to keep a roof over our heads? Mom and dad are gone and I'm the only one who can take care of the rest of you." 

"That's bullshit and you know it. Listen, I don't have to go to school--" 

"Stop," Darry snapped, his tone final, warning you not to argue. "You're going to school and you're gonna make something of yourself. Got it?" 

You knew it was no use trying to get through Darry's stubbornness, so you continued taking classes, but you would be damned if you didn't contribute. So, you got a job as a waitress on the other side of the train tracks, catering to socs and taking their money to benefit a bunch of greasers.  

Because while you had your brothers, you also couldn't deny that the rest of the gang was your family as well.  

Your not-so-secret favorite of the bunch was Two-Bit, because even though he was constantly mouthing off, he was also someone you knew would always have your back. He used his shoplifting habit to pick up things he thought you would like and while you didn't want to encourage him, you couldn't help but think he was incredibly sweet for someone who was always cracking jokes about everything and everyone. 

Johnny Cade was an absolute sweetheart and even though Ponyboy was the baby of the group, Johnny gave off a youthful innocence that had you wondering half the time how he ended up with a bunch of guys who would rather let their fists win their fights than words. You hated Johnny's parents for not protecting him from the world like they were meant to, so you took it upon yourself to watch out for him when you could and brought him food from the restaurant you worked at, since you knew his parents barely took the time to make sure he was eating enough.   

Steve Randall was Soda's best friend and while you hated the way he was so dismissive of Pony, you tolerated him for Sodapop's sake. It wasn't a secret he wasn't your favorite of the bunch and you had a feeling that the sentiment was mutual.  

And then there was Dallas Winston. He was a troublemaker through and through and while he spent too much time behind bars for your liking, he also crashed on the couch in your living room often enough that you couldn't help but consider him a part of the fucked up little family you had. He was a rebel and a notorious flirt and had an obvious thing for you. You couldn't take him or his advances seriously, though. Not when he was always looking for his next fight or lay.  

It didn't make sense and it was dysfunctional as all get out, but they were your family, and you'd do anything for them.  

The day your life got flipped around for what felt like the thousandth time, you were sitting on the porch steps, reading a book for class. You were drawn from the story of fake identities and counts seeking revenge by your brother's distressed voice.  

"Pony!" You heard Soda yell before he took off. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Steve were right behind him, barely taking a second to hesitate before following your brother into what sounded like a fight.   

You stood, carelessly throwing your book down on the steps, before you rushed toward the sounds of yelling and cursing and punches being thrown. All you managed to catch was the end of the scuffle, surprised to see Dally there, since the last thing you knew he was locked up again. He threw a rock at the socs' car, nearly hitting the back window, sending it skittering across the road as the socs fled.  

It was then you saw Ponyboy, blood welling from a cut on his neck.  

"What the fuck did they do to you?" You hissed, dropping to your knees at your brother's side.  

"They ran him down," Soda answered, tipping Pony's head back to get a better look at the cut. "Shit, Pony," he sighed, wincing at the sight of the blood staining his neck.  

"What the hell were you thinking anyway?" Darry asked, surprising you. You hadn't even seen your older brother approach, but you shouldn't have been surprised that if there was trouble, he wouldn't let it go ignored. "You shouldn't be walking around by yourself." 

"I wanted to see a movie," Pony offered, letting Two-Bit help him to his feet.  

"Movies and books," Darry scoffed, reaching out to tap a finger against Pony's forehead. "You're going to be so caught up in that head of yours one day that you're not gonna see the hit coming." 

"Aw, lay off him," Soda told Darry, starting to lead Pony back to the house. "Those things make him happy."  

"Next time you want to go to the movies, I'll give you a ride," you offered, not liking the idea of your baby brother walking all over town by himself. It wasn't just the socs you had to worry about. There were rowdy greasers and people who wouldn't take too kindly to a greaser walking on their side of town. You didn't want him getting jumped again, so you would do just about anything to prevent it.   

"And next time you need a ride," Dallas started, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "you know where to find me." 

"Dallas," you groaned, pushing him away. "What about Sylvia, huh?" 

Dallas' face scrunched up in annoyance before he shrugged his shoulders. "Cheated on me while I was locked up," he answered before reaching out to ruffle Johnny's hair. "That chick couldn't even wait a few months for me." 

"Shocker," you drawled, ignoring Dallas' noise of protest, before you sat back down on the porch steps and picked up your book.  

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dally asked, indignation in his tone.  

"Nothing. Just...," you trailed off, glancing up at Dallas. "Are you noticing a pattern with the kind of girls you go with?" 

"Well, it's not like you're giving me the time of day. Just say the word, babe," he added with a confident smirk.  

"Alright, can you two stop flirting and just get married already or something already?" Two-Bit joked, bumping into Dallas' side. "I'm sure Pony here would make a great flower girl, though. Leaving a trail of grease down the aisle and everything." 

"Knock it off, Keith," you scolded Two-Bit, grinning when his cheeks flushed red. You were the only one who got away with calling him by his actual name and you only ever used it when you needed him to back off.  

"Yeah, yeah," Two-Bit sighed, turning to look at the rest of the gang. "So, anyone want to do anything fun?" 

"There's a double feature tomorrow night at the drive-in," Pony piped up, ignoring Darry's pointed sigh, before he considered the rest of the gang.  

"I'll go," Johnny volunteered before he looked to Dallas. "What about it, Dally? You in?" 

"Sure," Dallas mused, dropping down onto the porch next to you. "Y/N can drive us." 

You snorted, elbowing Dallas in the side. "That offer stands for my brother and Johnny. You can walk, though," you told him, smirking at him.  

"Ouch," Dallas feigned hurt before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "C'mon, doll, you really trust me out on these streets? I could get jumped. I could get arrested. I could get killed. Heck, I might just get all three in one night." 

"I know what you're capable of," you told him, not bothering to shake off his arm again, instead going back to your book. "Just this once," you allowed, since you weren't too keen on the idea of Dallas leading your brother all over town, starting trouble and dragging Pony and Johnny right into it.  

"Great," Dallas drawled, squeezing you close to him for a second before letting you go.  

Even though you hated yourself just a little bit for it, you couldn't help but think you liked being tucked against Dallas' side.  

You were able to drop the trio off at the drive-in the next night, but you had to take a reluctant shift at the restaurant, since one of your co-workers had fallen ill. Your boss offered you a little extra cash as an incentive and since Pony was going to need new running shoes for track, you couldn't exactly turn the offer down.   

If you had known what you would come home to, however, you would have told your boss there was no way in hell you were coming in on your day off.  

By the time you got back to the house, you were exhausted and tired and cold. Your feet were killing you and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget that the world existed for the rest of the night.  

Instead, you came home to Darry sitting silent and still in the armchair by the phone and Soda nervously pacing the floor.  

"What happened?" You asked, stepping cautiously through the front door. "Is someone hurt? In jail? What's going on?" 

"Pony ran off," Soda answered, glancing at Darry, unsure. "He, uh, he got upset." 

"Have you looked for him? He runs fast, but he wouldn't go far. He probably just needs a minute." You weren't sure if you were trying to reassure your brothers or yourself.  

Darry shook his head and you couldn't tell if the expression on his face was one of guilt or anger. Knowing Darry, it was probably both.  

"Look, you two stay here," you told your brothers. "And I'll go look for Pony." 

"I don't like you out there at this time of night by yourself," Darry said, finally breaking his silence.  

"I'll be okay," you assured Darry, thinking of what you had stashed away in the glovebox of your car. The gun was the only reason Darry was okay with you having a job so far from home. It had belonged to your father and after he passed, Darry dug it out from beneath your parent's bed and presented it to you. 'Just in case,' he told you and you knew it was his way of trying to ensure he didn't lose any more family. 

Dallas had been the one to teach you how to use it. He was oddly pissed when he found out Darryl had handed you a gun with no pointers on how to use it. You chalked it up to grief on Darry's part, but Dallas wasn't willing to let it slide. He took it upon himself to make sure you knew how to use and aim it.  

He set up makeshift targets made out of tin cans in an empty field and didn't let you leave until he was positive you wouldn't hurt yourself if you ever had to use the weapon to defend yourself.  

You remembered the way his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping your back pressed firmly to his chest as he whispered in your ear how to gently squeeze the trigger. It shouldn't have made you so hot, but after years of ignoring Dally's advances, you couldn't stop yourself from turning in his embrace and pressing your lips to his. The kiss has been slow and languid, searching and questioning. You didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but in that moment, it certainly felt like it.  

Of course, your hopes for any future you might have with Dallas Winston were dashed the next day when you saw him flirting with the girl who worked as a cashier at the grocery store halfway across town. You had only been there to pick up some peanut butter and bread after your shift and at first you couldn't quite believe your eyes.  

It was then you realized Dallas was never really going to change and you shouldn't hold out hope that he ever would. You wanted two different things and you told yourself you were okay with that, even though you really weren't.  

"I'll be okay," you repeated, meeting Darry's eyes. "I'll bring him home. Trust me."  

Darry dipped his head in a nod, silently giving you permission to go. You ignored Soda's worried expression as he watched you leave the house, all your thoughts focused on finding your youngest brother and bringing him home. 

You had a hard time focusing on the road before you as you drove down the darkened streets of your neighborhood, searching fervently for Ponyboy. Every minute that passed had you clenching the steering wheel tighter in your hands. Anything could happen to Ponyboy if he was out alone at night and you didn't even want to consider the state you might find him in once you finally laid eyes on him.  

You wanted to find Pony so badly that you weren't sure if the commotion going on at the playground was real or all in your head. But there Pony was with Johnny, going up against four socs. You slammed your foot down on the brake, barely remembering to put the car in park, before you were hastily reaching into the glove box. Your fingers were just wrapping around the handle of the pistol when you saw a soc shove Johnny to the ground before they crowded around Pony, herding him towards the fountain.  

You were out of the car and rushing towards the group by the time they were dunking your little brother's head beneath the water. You could hear the socs laughing and you felt rage pour through your body, sweeping you up along with it. They were trying to kill your brother and they were laughing about it. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. Indignation and panic were rising quickly up your throat and you weren't sure if you were about to start yelling or if you were going to throw up from the stress.  

You could see Johnny picking himself up from the ground, the glint of the knife in his hand catching your attention, and abruptly you knew how this would play out. Johnny would save your brother however he could, but he'd take the fall. Sweet, sensitive Johnny being locked up or worse wasn't something you were about to let happen.  

You raised the gun in the air and fired off a shot without a second thought about any consequences. The socs jumped and the one holding Pony let him go, startling so hard that he bumped into the lip of the fountain and fell to the ground. You saw the other socs stumble and scramble to turn towards you.  

While you had their attention, Johnny darted forward and grabbed Pony by the shoulders, hauling him up out of the fountain. Your brother spluttered, coughing up water and spitting it out onto the ground. 

"Hey," the blonde one slurred, clumsily getting to his feet before making a move towards Johnny.  

"Leave him alone," you shouted, keeping the socs' attention on you. Johnny was busy helping Ponyboy stay upright, patting his back when you brother started coughing up more water, but he kept a fearful, distrustful eye on the socs. "Or the next time I pull the trigger, I'll be aiming at you." 

"C'mon, Bob," one of the socs said. "Let's get out of here," he pleaded with his friend, reaching out to tug on his arm. "She's crazy and she's got a gun." 

"Not until they learn their lesson," Bob snarled, swaying towards your brother and Johnny. "They can't just talk to our girls and think they can get away with it. Not trash like them," he spat, bringing his fist back, as if he was going to aim a punch at Johnny. You saw the flash of rings caught in the streetlights and the absolute fear on Johnny's face and you knew without a doubt this was the soc that had jumped him not long ago.  

You pointed your weapon at Bob, not wanting him to have any doubt that he would be your target should you have to fire again. "Leave," you told him, trying to ignore the fact that your hands were shaking. Your confidence was waning with every second and you didn't want to lose it before the socs were gone. One slip and it was all over.  

"Let's go, man, she's off her rocker," you heard one of the socs mutter before they were all trailing back to their car. Bob looked like he still had half a mind to charge at your brother, even with the weapon pointed at him, but his friend with the curly brown hair kept a tight grip on his arm, towing him away.  

"We can go," you told the boys once you were sure the socs were gone and weren't going to circle back. 

"Y/N--," Johnny started. 

"Not now," you said, shaking your head, still on high alert waiting for headlights and cruel laughter to make a reappearance.  

The car was deathly silent as you drove home, keeping an eye on your rearview motor, while Johnny and Pony sat huddled together in the backseat. You could hear one or both of them shivering, so you drove a little faster, eager to get them back to the warmth and safety of your home.  

When you got back to the house, Soda was sitting on the front steps. He immediately stood up when he noticed your car and took off down the stairs and across the lawn when he noticed Johnny helping Pony out of the backseat. Your hands were trembling and you felt so restless that you knew going into the house would be a mistake. Darry would have questions and he would be gruff and stern and overprotective. Soda would be worried and nervous and you knew Pony and Johnny would be traumatized. You didn't have the energy to deal with all of that, so all you could think about was fleeing to a place where you felt safe.  

To your surprise, only one place came to mind.  

"I'll, uh, I've got something I've gotta do," you told Pony when he shot you a questioning glance. You knew he was wondering why you weren't shutting the car off or getting out. "I'll be home soon." 

"Y/N--," Soda tried to stop you, his brow furrowed with worry as he helped Johnny support Ponyboy.  

You shook your head, cutting him off. He frowned at you before reluctantly shutting the car door, allowing you to drive off.  

Your mind was spinning and you barely had the presence of mind to stuff the gun back into the glovebox. You didn't want Darry giving you the third degree and you didn't want Soda to pace nervously while he shot you what he thought were discreet, worried glances. Johnny and Pony could tell them what happened and Darry and Soda would watch out for them. They didn't need you, you told yourself over and over again. You didn't have to feel guilty for escaping when you needed to. For seeking out the one person who could help you process the events of the night.  

Two-Bit would just fuss over you and you sure as hell weren't going to go to Steve at a moment like this. You didn't realize your mind was fully made up until you found yourself pulling up to Buck Merrill's place.  

"Shit," you groaned, resting your forehead on the steering wheel. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, knowing that this was probably a mistake, before you forced yourself to get out of the car. You let your feet carry you to the front door while your mind spiraled through all the ways this could go wrong.  

"Yeah?" You heard someone ask, breaking you out of your trance.  

"Uh, hey," you managed to get out, recognizing Buck. "Is Dallas here?" 

Buck looked you up and down, leaning against the doorframe, as if keeping you from getting a good look at his place or who might be inside. "Who's asking?" 

"Just tell him it's Y/N, alright? He'll want to see me." It was a bluff and you suddenly had the striking fear that Dallas wasn't spending the night alone. What if he had a date? What if you were interrupting something? 

"Stay here," Buck's gruff voice pulled you out of your panic.  

You nodded your head, nervously tapping your fingers against your thigh as Buck shut the door on you. 

It wasn't long before you could see Dallas approach the door through the front window. He looked confused as he yelled something at Buck over his shoulder before he opened the door. His hair was sleep rumpled and there was a bruise blooming on his jaw, making you wonder if it was from a fist or a pair of lips.  

"Y/N? Do you know what time it is? What the hell is going on?" Dallas took a closer look at you before he seemed to notice the state you were in. You could feel yourself beginning to shake and you weren't sure if it was from the chill in the air or from shock. "Jesus, come on, get inside," he ordered, stepping aside to give you room to get past him. 

Dallas ushered you inside before leading you up the stairs and into a bedroom. The covers were rumpled and the pillow was halfway off the bed, as if Dallas had messed it up trying to get out of bed, but there was no sign that another person had been with him. You felt relieved for a brief, confusing moment, before the shock you had been fighting off hit you.  

"What's going on? You look spooked," Dallas observed, his brows furrowing in concern. 

You took a deep breath before you stumbled towards the bed. You dropped down onto the edge of it, fighting the urge to hide your face from Dallas so he wouldn't see you cry.   

"Johnny and Pony got into some trouble tonight."  

You knew Dally had a soft spot for Johnny and once he heard his name, his face drew tight in anger. You knew he was fearing the worst and while you had definitely avoided the worst-case scenario that night, you were having trouble trying to explain that at the moment. 

"Was it the socs again? They didn't get him, did they? Fuck, they're so dead this time." 

"Not really," you explained. "But they almost killed Pony. He could've died tonight, Dal." You could feel a sob working its way up your throat and you weren't sure if you would be able to stop it. You weren't all that surprised when you started rambling, instead. "They were trying to drown Pony and Johnny had a knife and I didn't know what to do, so I took the gun--" 

"Did you shoot one of 'em?" Dallas asked and from the calculating look on his face, you were sure he was already thinking of a dozen different escape plans that would have you running from the law and trying to evade a murder charge.  

"No, but I almost had to. They wouldn't back off and he was going to die, Dal. I could've lost my brother tonight. If I hadn't been there in time who knows what could have happened." You thought of Johnny and his knife and the determined glint in his eyes. "It could've been so much worse." 

"It's alright," Dallas soothed, dropping down to sit at your side. "You got there and you stopped them. That's what matters, right? And we'll make them pay for what they did. They can't just get away with it. They always get away with it and then we're the ones getting locked up because we don't have their connections."  

"I don't want you getting into any trouble. Not again," you told him, hating the thought of Dallas going away yet again.  

"I won't, doll," he said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. You shivered and pressed closer against him, noticing the way his breath hitched.  

You turned your head to look at him, noticing the way his eyes dipped to consider your lips before meeting your eyes. All you could think about was that of all the places you could've run to, you went right to Dallas. It only felt right and after all this time of running away from him, when you couldn't deny how you felt any longer, you ended up right in his arms. Maybe it was where you should have been all along.  

"I don't want to get myself into any trouble either," you found yourself saying, focusing on Dallas' eyes and how he was zeroed in on you.  

"So, I'm trouble?" His lips quirked up in a smirk and you couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped you.  

"You always have been. But maybe...," you trailed off, considering him. "But maybe I just don't care anymore," you said before you leaned forward and let your lips brush against his. Your hands were still shaking and you couldn't wrap your head around what almost happened to your brother, but you knew one thing. Dallas was where you turned when you felt unsafe and all you wanted at that moment was to be with him. You felt like nothing could go wrong as long as he was with you, holding you, pressed against you. So, you leaned into him, pouring every insecurity and fear into the kiss and letting him take them from you.  

You were tempted to spend the night with Dallas, but you only stayed for another few minutes. At some point during the kiss, Dallas had drawn away and simply pulled you close, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He kept his arm tucked tight around your waist, a silent assurance that he had you.  

"I should go," you sighed, closing your eyes against the urge to look up at Dallas. You knew it would be hard to leave him, but it was something you had to do. Your brothers were probably worried sick about you and you didn't want to make them worry any longer.  

"You could stay," he offered. "Bed's big enough for two." 

"Darry would kill me," you told him. "Especially since i just drove off without a word once I dropped off Pony and Johnny." 

"Your big brother worries too much," Dallas complained before he reluctantly let you go.  

"He does," you agreed before taking a moment to kiss Dallas again. This one was quick and brief, a thanks for giving you refuge to sort yourself out, before you stood up. "I'll see you later," you promised. 

"Later," Dallas agreed, not bothering to get off the bed as you walked out.  

You figured it was better that way. If Dallas followed you, you'd have a hell of a lot harder time leaving him.  

Johnny was fast asleep on the couch when you wandered back into the house and Pony and Soda were both in bed, but you weren't surprised that Darry was waiting for you.  

"Where the hell did you go," he said, not bothering to phrase it as a question, but more of a demand for an answer.  

"I went to a friend's," you told him, completely aware of how much more he would worry if he found out you were with Dallas instead of staying home. "How are they?" You asked, gesturing towards where Johnny was still fast asleep on the couch.  

"Scared. Shaken up. They told us what happened." Darryl sighed, his shoulders releasing some of their tension. "It could have been a lot worse. I'm glad you got to them in time." 

"Yeah," you agreed, releasing a long breath. Your mind was finally starting to catch up to the fact that you were completely safe now. The adrenaline from the night was wearing and exhaustion was fast approaching to take its place. "I'm tired," you couldn't help but say, not even sure if you had the energy to drag yourself to bed. You thought for a fleeting moment of Dallas and his bed and the fact that you could have been sharing it with him right about now. But you knew it had been the right decision to go home, even if it wasn't completely what you had wanted.  

"Go to bed. We'll talk more tomorrow." Darry walked towards you, leaving his arms open for you to slip into his embrace. "Don't scare me like that again, alright?" He asked before he let you go. "I understand, but after everything we've been through...," he let the end of his sentence go unsaid, letting you mentally finish it yourself. "Love you, kid." 

"I'm only a year younger," you reminded him, fighting off the urge to roll your eyes.  

"Sure," he agreed with a grin. "Now, go on. Get some rest." 

"Thanks, Darry," you managed to say around a yawn before you went off to bed.  

You went to bed that night thinking about Dally and woke that morning worried about Dally. Tensions between the socs and greasers around town were swiftly rising and you knew that it would come to some kind of fight. It always came to a fight when class differences were involved and you hated that the people you loved most were being painted as the enemies.  

You knew it would come to a head sooner or later, but you didn't entirely expect for it to happen so soon.  

Within a week, everyone was on edge. Two-bit got followed walking to get some ice cream and Dally got jumped by three socs just outside a gas station. Thankfully it was the one Soda and Steve worked at, and while they almost got fired for the fight, all three of them managed to make it out nearly completely unscathed.  

You knew it would only get worse, so you weren't surprised when word of a rumble between the two groups started floating around.  

"No. Absolutely not," you argued once Dally told you he was set on fighting in the rumble "It's bad enough my brothers want to, but come on, Dallas. You never know when to stop and you're gonna end up in jail. Again," you added after a moment of thought. "It's all I can not to get Ponyboy mixed up in all of this, but now I've got to worry about you too? What're we going to do if you get locked up?"  

The thing between you was still fragile and new. You kept waiting for him to flirt around and he seemed to think you were going to change your mind. Despite that, it still felt incredibly exhilarating every time you were wrapped up in his arms and while you hadn't told anyone else that the two of you were an item, you knew it would happen once the both of you felt more settled in your relationship. 

"Well," he mused as he moved towards you, "guess you better wait for me." He reached up and behind his neck, unlatching his Saint Chrisopher necklace. "You'll keep this safe for me, then, won't you?" 

You knew what the necklace meant to Dally and you knew what it meant that he was giving it to you. He carried it with him for the protection and safekeeping he thought it gave him and if he was giving it to you, then he must have trusted you a hell of a lot more than you realized.  

"The last girl I was with, I gave her my ring, but I shouldn't have trusted her. I knew I should've waited for the right one." He let his lips twist up into a smile as you turned, letting your back face him. "And I've been waiting a long time for you, doll," Dallas said, his voice going lower, as if he was worried anyone but you would hear the words. He reverently brought the necklace up over your head and let it rest around your neck, taking care to make sure your hair didn't get caught up in the clasp as he closed it.  

"I'll take good care of it," you promised. "But you better not end up in jail. I've got plans for us, Dallas Winston," you told him as you turned to face him yet again. You could feel the medallion against your skin and you knew it was a promise and a declaration all in one.  

Dallas wanted to be with you and he wasn't about to go seeking out anyone else to fill his time or his bed. And once the guys realized you of all people were wearing Dallas' necklace, then they were soon to put the pieces together.  

"Oh yeah? Well, guess I better make sure I'm around for them," Dallas said, a smile still on his face as he considered you. You didn't remember the last time you had seen him so pleased and the fact that you were the reason for his happiness was downright intoxicating.    

You couldn't help but laugh, delighted and enthralled with Dallas as you pulled him into a kiss.  

Maybe your side of town would always be a little bit rough and maybe there was always a fight brewing, but you figured maybe it wasn't so bad as long as you had your family of greasers and Dallas Winston's arms around you. Maybe you didn't need money or connections or a fancy school to be happy.  

You already had all you needed and you would be damned if you were ever going to let it go. 

[foggyfanfic]

Hey! Any chance you want to elaborate on that AU where Bruno got resurrected and it helped with his OCD and anxiety? Because that sounds incredible and I am incredibly curious now. How did he die? How did he come back? What are the circumstances surrounding all that? Is it in your existing AU with Leandra and their kids? Inquiring minds and all that. (If you want to talk about it of course!)

I would love to talk about it! You’ll have a harder time shutting me up! This one was after all my future fics with Juan, trans!Buba, and Heraldo. It was mostly the vehicle through which I tried to figure out how the Madrigal family will work long term. Because they all have magic, and these amazing magic rooms, I kinda assume nobody is really going to want to move out of Casita, at least not long term or without some big reason. So what does that look like after a few generations? All of the future fics I’ve posted are actually technically flashbacks from this AU before it went completely off the rails and became its own thing.

The idea was that Bruno comes out of the walls and the last half of his life just starts getting better and better. He gets closer to his family, he falls in love, he even ends up with a handful of kids that see him as a father figure. Eventually he dies of old age, peacefully, goes to heaven, and is dead for at least a decade before he gets resurrected by the villain that wants to use Bruno’s gift for evil. In the meantime, the Encanto has become semi-isolationist since the advent of the internet, and are now debating whether they should let the internet into the Encanto or go full isolationist. Mirabel’s youngest granddaughter and Camilo’s youngest granddaughter get led out of the Encanto and to Bruno by the miracle, rescue him, then they have monster of the week type adventures with my super self indulgent self insert who originally existed in the story to provide money, a boat to live/travel on, and explanations on internet safety. She was also there so the Madrigals have somebody to tell family stories too, thus allowing me to play around with the development of the Madrigal family. Right before it went off the rails I also added a great great great nephew who one, was older than both of the great great nieces to illustrate how large and complex the family structure is, and two, had a gift that allowed him to bring the rest of the canon characters in and out of the main plot.

And that was where I should have stopped brainstorming, but I didn’t, and now this AU is how I explore my own anxieties about current events, so it takes place ten years from now, in what is hopefully the worst version of the future, and the self insert OC is no longer a representation of me with better skin and more money, but instead exists so her tragic backstory can serve as a warning of how much life will suck if things go a certain way. But let’s not talk about that! Under the cut is the longer explanation of the Madrigal OC’s and Bruno’s character arc throughout the original AU before it became my therapy. I’m literally just going to info dump the whole thing, because I know I won’t be turning it into a fanfic, so this is probably going to be my longest post ever.

So the three teenagers are Eduardo (Dolores’ great grandson), Etta (Mirabel’s youngest granddaughter) and Maria (Camilo’s youngest granddaughter). Eduardo was sorta the prototype for Gabriel’s character, he has a crappy father, looks up to Bruno as a better role model, and is struggling with his identity in relation to his father’s legacy. His gift is to travel through shadow because he’s trying to escape his dad’s shadow, and unlike Gabriel, he did spend the first part of his childhood trying to be like his crappy dad, so he is now trying to redeem himself for being a bit of a bully. He also has terrible taste in women, that serve as the inciting incident for a few of the “chapters”, like when he gets kidnapped by his fairy princess girlfriend and the other characters have to deal with a DnD type dreamworld to get him back.

Etta is the first adopted Madrigal, so ends up facing a lot of the same emotional struggles as Mirabel. Her mothers adopted her later in life, think mid-forties, when her birth family died due to their well being contaminated. Her birth mother survived long enough to give birth and nurse Etta thanks to Julieta, so Etta is one of many kids named after her. Her mothers entire thing was that they were the first fully out gay couple in Encanto, Etta’s Madrigal Mom was a surprise baby along the lines of Antonio and she grew up close to Isabela and trans woman!Buba, so she knows with absolute certainty that being gay isn’t a big deal, and her family will be normal about it. She wants to marry her wife in a church, so they come out and Mirabel publicly states that if god disagrees with people being gay then he’s free to take the miracle back. They get married, the miracle doesn’t get taken back, and after that more people start coming out instead of just being poorly kept secrets. They wait so long to adopt because people are a little pissy about them “rubbing it in everyone’s face”, but they love Etta endlessly. Her gift ends up being ice powers because she wants to feel like she fits with her mother who has an elemental gift (fire), and her mother ended up with that gift because she wanted to fit in with her much older brothers, who all got elemental gifts because they’re really proud of the triplets thing and wanted to match when they were younger. I just kinda like the idea of Mirabel’s branch having a bunch of people who are so proud to be a part of their family they end up with themed gifts.

Then Maria is one of my two favorite OC’s I’ve ever come up with. She’s the youngest of a ridiculously large brood of siblings, who in turn come from Camilo’s youngest son. Camilo, of course, doesn’t have a favorite grand child, because that would be bad. But Maria does have his wife’s perpetual poker face (cough autism cough), and Camilo’s sense of mischief. It results in a very calm child that is also somehow endlessly chaotic, especially when paired with Etta’s never ending quest to be as helpful as possible. Maria wanted her gift ceremony to be a quiet affair but her parents invited the whole town, so Etta (taking after Mirabel’s gift for leadership) mobilized the cousins into chasing the guests out by making it snow and throwing snowballs at everyone that didn’t live there. Maria tried to cover for Etta by telling the adults she made it snow, and when her father doubtfully asked how she did that she very calmly looked him in the eye and told him in the solemnest voice a five year old can manage “Papá, through Jesus Christ, all things are possible” and Camilo fell out of his chair laughing. Her parents are always a little too busy to give their youngest and quietest their full attention, so Camilo happily takes the little gremlin everywhere he goes. Maria’s gift allows her to look into the past of anything she touches, so she’s a little exposition machine, unlocks tragic backstories, and “tells” most of the flashbacks to various Madrigal adventures. She is bad at the whole people thing, but doesn’t usually care that much, until she meets a pretty girl she likes and can’t figure out how to tell if the pretty girl is also into her. She is also the first seer in the family since Bruno passed, since in this universe seers are the rarest magic users.

Then finally! Undead Bruno! As mentioned the last half of his life is pretty great, and knowing what waits for him when he dies does a lot to reassure him when he’s worried he might be a horrible person. He hit rock bottom, then things got better and he eventually went to heaven, so he now has faith that no matter how bad things get, happiness is still possible. And that’s where he’s at when he gets resurrected. The story would have had three parts, each a reflection of what’s going on for Bruno internally. The first part would be the most light hearted, literally just him getting used to being alive (and relatively young) again, while the narrative establishes the rules of this universe and introduces groundwork for important plot stuff later. Plus midway through part one he would get a diagnosis and start figuring out his medication needs so that combined with the new sense of peace given to him by going to heaven would completely change his life. Part one ends when Bruno discovers the resurrection spell works by sacrificing somebody and essentially giving the dead person their body, which is why Bruno is young again, because the man killed to bring him back was in his mid-thirties. So the second part would be Bruno struggling with that, and low-key trying to find a way to switch back with the sacrifice because Bruno doesn’t hate life like he used to, but he also thinks everybody should get the chance to fully explore it, and he had his turn. In parallel, we’d explore the darker side of this world Bruno has woken up in, and see all the ways magic can create problems. It ends when Bruno discovers he can’t undo the resurrection spell and decides to live as much and as well as he can so at least the life he “stole” isn’t wasted. Then part three is him learning how to go after what he wants as it slowly dawns on him that he’s about to have the chance to do his forties over again. This of course parallels them figuring out what the villain’s plans are and how to stop him.

And this is the part that I love about the Encanto AU version of this story! The villain’s plans and the solution to stop it. So the larger universe of this story is the Disney Universe, y’know. Like the characters go to modern day Corona and Arandelle and such. Bruno goes to the region of France Cinderella is from and meets the descendants of her talking mice and is absolutely thrilled. Things like that. So in the version that’s still an Encanto AU, the villain went to Bruno to get a vision back in the sixties, Bruno did the vision and was horrified by what he saw. The villain on a throne of bones, some of Bruno’s family killed to get there. He wants to make sure the vision doesn’t come true, but of course! Your fate is sealed when your prophecy is read. He has to think fast, try to come up with some way to prevent it, but knowing that’s not possible. Except, Bruno saw the villain doing all sorts of magic, he rolls the dice. He tells the villain that in order to win he’ll have to get his hands on Excalibur, but oh no, that’s a problem because it was destroyed in an evil cauldron. Shucks, guess there’s nothing the villain can do. The villain is like “Bah, with my power nothing is out of reach”, so he does some research, concludes Excalibur was destroyed in the Black Cauldron from that one flop and goes back in time to prevent it. But! Going back in time alters the timeline, changing the future, and erasing the villain’s victory. And then this next part is a little complicated, but because the villain is spurred into going back in time by a future that no longer exists it kicks off a time paradox that the whole world is now stuck in until somebody can figure out some way to stabilize it. New timelines are being created, get to the point when the villain was supposed to take over the world (around now-ish), then fall apart and another timeline starts up in its place. The villain is powerful enough to see through the paradox and is targeting Bruno because Bruno’s the one that robbed him of his victory, plus he figures if he steals Bruno’s gift he can use it to navigate the different timelines being created and destroyed by the paradox, then stabilize the one that’s best for him. The miracle, on the other hand, is some sorta mysterious force that can see through the time paradox and has been trying to figure out how to stabilize the resolution that’s most favorable for the Madrigals. The story ends when they figure out how to do that, defeat the villain, then all go home to the Encanto where my self-insert with better skin and more money pays for them to install the infrastructure needed to bring the internet in, then she spends her life there in a paradise where she doesn’t have to worry about the latest election or the looming threat of fascism, and she teaches classes on internet safety so the Encanto can enter the modern age without sacrificing their way of life. The end, send post.

[unholyverse]

i want to know i want to know about it so bad tell me about it. please

ok a lot of people sent me the asks for it but i will answer yours because :3

sorry in advance for formatting i’m on my phone and tumblr never shows me the right image thumbnails

ok so sometimes i’ll subscribe to the slumber podcast patreon bc. honestly i think they’re more enjoyable together when they’re being boring and talking about mundane shit. but one of the times i wasn’t, i see this on the podcast twitter

and me <- fic writer with morbid interest wanted to see what the fuss was all about because:

travis is writing a fic about his very real and personal friends

travis is writing a fic about his very real and personal friends’ to the theming of the album (that’s supposed to be) about religious guilt and sexuality that as far as i know, said writer of said album has not discussed with him because of the nature of it

this was set in travis’ knockoff pokemon au he sells books of on amazon (i don’t think awsten has read any of his books including this one)

on top of that when i open the first chapter, he says he wants to post this to ao3 when it’s done. i want to punt him to a wall until he goes splat like a cartoon before he’s able to do that.

ok so this is where the terror starts for real. there’s only 5 chapters up so far but each chapter is supposed to correspond with a track on intellectual property (which is 11 tracks….)

so we start on chapter 1: ST*RFUCKER

in this chapter, awsten goes back home from his pop star life in whatever in universe equivalent to la travis has and back to the in universe equivalent to houston while he muses on a recent falling out with some oc travis also made up named ash.

oh did i mention im pretty sure travis made everyone gay in this. bc he did. travis made everyone gay in this.

and here’s when i start to see some of the notes other friends have made about travis’ writing from reading his other books. it’s almost like…too travis than anyone he’s trying to write lol. it feels like i’m just reading travis self projecting more than writing the thoughts of another character (who is. his irl friend)

so awsten gets reacquainted with his parents who are loving but just don’t Understand him and his big city habits and clothes now but it’s fine.

oh and travis made jawn and awsten have a past hookup in this. did i mention that bc he made that a thing.

the chapter ends with awsten not getting a text back from ash and getting pissed at it in his childhood bedroom.

and that brings us to chapter 2: real super dark

travis starts this with awsten having a post coital convo with ash and flashes forward to the present where ash won’t text him back.

as awsten is mourning this, he starts thinking about how at least he never wrote a song about him and travis makes awsten muse on the ciara situation but replaces her with a guy literally called NAMELESS.

normal things to write about your irl friend hahahahaha <- i’m starting to lose my mind but know this isn’t the worst of it.

after this is the part where travis texts awsten to come to a party at his place and it becomes very apparent how much travis has fucked with his own self characterization LOL.

here, travis characterizes himself as an avid drinker and party boy that awsten begged to go to the in universe equivalent of la with him, but travis stood his ground and stayed back home. in real life, i think travis is like a sentient piece of white bread and the general coolness of a high school anime club. also i feel like awsten ignores travis sometimes for his other friends. sorry travis.

when it hits me again that this is something i paid $5 for and this is a guy writing incredibly self indulgent and personal fic that is too self indulgent and personal to be a joke, i stop to ask a discord server of friends if this is insane (they agree it is) and continue on.

in the end, awsten flashes back to another post coital moment with ash before he’s supposed to leave and i have to read the implications of awsten banging the oc travis made up again.

that was kind of a nightmare just from the bare bones of it right? it gets worse. it gets so much worse.

here comes chapter 3: funeral gray (he spelled it like that bc fuck british spelling we’re in the us of a 🦅🦅🦅🦅)

so awsten is at travis’ place which is kind of a shithole and i assume travis starts projecting about his own neighborhood through fic!travis for like a paragraph.

the party sucks and awsten isn’t really around any of his friends so he goes to leave but notices some guy in a gray sweater outside doing the in universe equivalent of filling up his pokédex with one of the creatures under someone’s car.

then after that we have to have this bit of dialogue that reaffirms to be that this song’s lyrics taken literally is probably the most annoying conversation ever.

awsten introduces himself to the guy, who immediately clocks him as a pop star he’s heard on the radio.

then travis ruins the moment by showing up drunk and telling awsten to come back in, where jawn is there and it’s not that awkward for them to hang out despite their weird hookup.

they try catching awsten up with local gossip while making themselves out to a fire pit and awstens still trying to find out who the guy he met with the sweater was. by pure coincidence, the sweater guy is outside having a smoke and awsten is crushing hard like an idiot and then we get the reveal that sweater guy is geoff.

yep. we just got gawstened.

now here you might ask, “oh the friend groups all there where’s otto?”. he is literally not in this. at all. i assume there’s a lot of reasons he’s not in this (he’s not close enough to otto, he doesn’t know enough about him in general, possible jealousy on travis’ part on. things?) but either way. he’s not in this shit at all which i find to be a mercy to otto but also. rather interesting. hm.

ok this got too long that tumblr won’t let me post the rest of the screenshots so i have to do a part two which i’ll prommy i’ll link here later i just refuse to type this shit out myself and i need to show you how this is something he is actually posting.

edit from the future: here’s part 2

[destiny-in-the-universe]

i have a problem

my dash is getting filled with merlin content and now i have all the thoughts ever, i am slowly going insane-

first of all, i was literally part of superwholock (and merlin!) which meant there was a lot of room for chaos and shenanigans- as a roleplayer, i remember this was so illiterate but i can't handle that and so i'd troll people by replying in solely multi-para responses, but going back to my ideas!

on one hand, i could see about reworking on my older abandoned works - mostly due to hyperfix drops - but honestly, i might genuinely see about bringing them back! let yourself be 'cringe', write what you want and don't let anyone stop you! i never finished my superwholock fanfic because i thought it would be ill-received but if i can publish a fic for secret quartet- i can write that too

but i also had plans for a theoretical continuation of the series, and i genuinely had a smaller arc where it involved once upon a time- and merlin having his own antique shop and just- grrr, it was this whole thing cooking in my brain before i dropped it

except now, i am immensely and horribly fixated on rc9gn and that has to be one of the best (and equally worst-) interests i've ever had, i can't get enough of it which leads to this: merlin x rc9gn crossover. hear me out-

somehow, merlin ends up in norrisville and begins to realize there's a deep magic in the area, and it haunts him to the bone- he still hasn't found arthur which is a story for another day (meaning this idea is a wip-)

because it's merlin, he doesn't know how to let things be and decides to investigate; he inevitably learns about the ninja and is surprised when the energy seems young- that the current ninja is, in fact, a teenager and not an 800-year-old spirit. deciding he can't let this slide, merlin becomes involved in randy's life- wanting to help him but of course certain individuals make this incredibly difficult

so now, you have randy who's being mentored by both the literal embodiment of a book that's centuries old and the most powerful warlock to ever exist- but he fears being too much, can he really do this? though by technical terms, randy has magic; this has been proven, and i honestly thought of pyrokinetic randy- yk, because of his connection with the tengu

things slowly grow tense because this isn't a cartoon- how could it be? the sorcerer is a dangerous foe and eventually, he manages to escape; norrisville is throwing into disarray but randy has his mentors- he is not going to let them win... and happens to discover something about himself he didn't think was possible...

merlin will not see randy die. he will not witness something like that- but he knows randy's different, he isn't like the past ninjas (as i feel merlin would be contacted by the nomicon at some point-) and everyone will remember his feats, but things are never that easy

this is another extremely self indulgent idea but it's mine and i will write it, so if you see this more (and things like the warrior cats crossover for rc9gn) then that's what will happen pfft

[viilpstick]

I was gonna post this in my other acc but since I wrote this more like a vent and it's way more self indulgent than most fics that I wrote (also smaller) I decided to send it to ur inbox instead,,, anyway (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

•••

“Kalim?” Jeanne's voice made the boy jump, his red eyes widening as he quickly dried the tears off his face. The raven haired girl wasn't a fool though, he wasn't ok.

“What happened?” She didn't even want to ask if he was ok, the answer was clearly a no, and there was no use debating the obvious.

“Nothing, I just–” he paused, taking a deep breath and showing her his thumb. “I just cut myself.”

Jeanne used her hand to analyze his finger, scared her hook could accidentally make the scratch worse. It wasn't deep, but it probably hurt because it was big. She asked him if he knew where the first aid kit was, he said he didn't know, so – with much protest from Kalim’s end – she just ripped a part of her red sash(?) off, wrapping it around his hand. The boy sighed.

“...sorry.”

“It's whatever. I can get another one.” She said nonchalantly, finishing to tie it around his hand. “Now, why were you crying?"

“I already said it, I cut–”

“No, you wouldn't cry because of that.” She demanded, her blue eyes capturing his red ones and making him bite his lip nervously. “Listen, Kalim… you can be vulnerable with me, really. Even if it's something stupid – which I don't think it is – I won't laugh.”

The white haired boy stayed quiet for a moment, until he ultimately gave up and looked down, his cheeks growing red in shame.

“I… I tried cooking something small. Just for me, you know? But… I ended up not only burning it but also hurting myself.” He then pointed to the sink, where a burnt pan laid, whatever food had been inside it was probably thrown in the trash. It explained the horrible smell she felt when getting into NRC’s kitchen.

“I thought Jamil didn't let you use a knife, or a stove?”

“He doesn't know.”

“Oh.” With that, she looked at him puzzled. “So… you're crying because it went wrong?”

“N-no, not really, it's just–” he groaned, resting his arms on the table and his head on them right after. Jeanne could see his frustration from a mile away. “I'm tired of not being able to do anything right, Jeanne. I can't even hold a knife properly.”

Oh.

Jeanne rubbed her hand up and down his back, her heart aching because of his pain, which was so clearly obvious. Kalim was shaking, he felt useless, he didn't understand why everything he made went so wrong. It was incredibly frustrating. The worst thing? Probably one of the most independent people he knew had caught him crying over not being able to cook a meal.

He… just felt so much shame.

“Kalim, look at me.” Jeanne asked, and he hesitantly complied. He saw a gentle smile on her face as she slowly passed her hands through his short hair. “Let's do it again, together. I'll guide you, and you’ll be able to do it by yourself.”

“No, you don't– I don't want to inconvenience you…” Kalim immediately refused, but was quickly silenced by a tender kiss on his forehead. Jeanne's eyes seemed to lock his gaze, making him weak and at her mercy, as she usually did.

It was a shame he couldn't hate her for the power she held over him.

“It's not inconvenient. I want to help you.” She said, a smile on her face. She made a small bun with her own hair, going to the sink to wash her hand and her hook, looking for alcohol to disinfect it. “I won't interfere unless I absolutely have to, come on. Let's make soup or something.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, still worried, but only received a smile from his girlfriend.

“Absolutely.”

With that, Kalim finally chuckled, the sound music to Jeanne's ears.

“Ok… thank you.”

This felt SO princess and the frog codded

KALIM IS A BABY BC HE IS CUTE AND SWEET

BUT HE IS FOR NOT WANTING TO BE IN OTHERS EYES A BABY :(((

also jeanne is such a gentleman, throw my hat to her

what a woman, amen

[bnesszai]

May I know your top 3 favourite Dazai ships (either platonic or romantic) and why? Thank you ❤️

hello anon!

skk (romantic/platonic) - i could go on for a while but I'll try to keep it short. These two have so much trust in one another, no matter how much they try and claim otherwise. They know the other has their back. No matter what the situation, no matter how much time has passed, just. no matter what. They also definitely do hate each other because they see the worst of themselves reflected in the other BUT they also see the best of the other despite these parts, even if they try and deny it. They bring out the worst and the best in each other. When they're together, they don't have to have their guard or facades up. Together, they can enjoy the things they typically don't get to, such as arcades or just being stupid for no good reason. They can find their lost childhoods and the essence of who they could have been in a different world within each other. They also understand each other on such deep level. they don't even need words or signals. They just know. They also believe in the humanity of the other despite, once again, how much they try and deny it.

kunicuuzai (romantic/platonic)- kunizai on its own is okay, but i prefer all three together for reasons that are probably just stupid and personal but meh. anyway. You have the above dynamic but also added in you have Kunikida who is an idealist. He is someone who never wants to see someone die before his eyes. He is a self-sacrificing, bleeding human who has seen horrors but always chooses good (i have some hcs about a delinquent past but that's a different story). He can help Dazai and Chuuya see their humanities and the good parts in themselves that they feel they have lost. He can soothe over some of their aches and pains in a way neither Chuuya or Dazai can do for themselves or each other because Kunikida has never been in an organization that has asked him to kill ruthlessly, relentlessly. He also is the only one who can keep their bullshit shenanigans to a more tolerable amount (that said, he also loves shenanigans. he also loves safety and getting home on time for dinner). Dazai and Chuuya help Kunikida see the more fun things in life and how it can be okay to deviate from his schedule sometimes. Sometimes, it's okay to be horribly selfish.

Dazai and Oda (platonic only)- I was a lil torn between saying Oda or Atsushi or Ango for my platonic relationship, but ultimately, Oda did have the largest impact on his life (I have gone on rants about him and Ango before and probably will do so again). Anyway. There is the way Chuuya understands Dazai, but then there is the way that Oda did. Oda could see the deep lonlieness inside of Dazai. He could see that Dazai is too smart, too clever, too something to ever find something that will fulfill him in life. And that's heartbreaking. And yet, Oda tried his best to help Dazai out. He kept him company, he indulged him (I'm pretty confident Oda always knew Dazai was lying about his injuries), and he surely taught Dazai many things and comforted him to the best of his abilities when he could. Oda understood Dazai as if Oda had lived a life inside his body (i cannot think of a less creepy way to describe this sorry xD). Oda understood Dazai. Oda called Dazai a friend. Oda cared for Dazai and encouraged him to at least find the beauty in life, to atl east use his talents for good, even if none of it will ever make Dazai truly want to live. It's incredibly heartwarming and tragic all at once and GOD. reading tdipud (both sides) and Beast really makes Dark Era hurt that much extra. In every fic I write, I want Oda to be alive so they can be happy together as stupid friends, but his death is so vital to Dazai's development that I have not been able to bring myself to keep him alive thus far. Perhaps someday I can let them be happy (doubtful).

[merge-conflict]

year in review

2023 is on its way out, and it's been... a year. First full year that I've actually been active on social media (i.e. not just lurking), and first time in fandom.

My first fic of the year? when her edges soften – the longer I wrote for Valentine and the more her relationship with Johnny got weird and intimate and full of casual innuendo the more I needed to write something where they were reunited. Also my first ever experience writing smut and self-indulgently adding a whole fencing scene. Goddamn that was fun! Feels like it's older than a year.

My favorite fic of the year? thread-safe – I became engrossed with cyberpunk because of Jackie but I imprinted hard on Takemura after that traumatic heist mission and perhaps the rest is history. Valentine's story has had a lot of tinkering and reworking and it was the thing that got me back into writing, but the original story in my head was something bittersweet and angry and grieving, one night only no encores, parting badly– and I finally was able to capture that in thread-safe and it feels so good.

Most fun experiments?? There are several of these. When I got stuck and discouraged and tired of working on the longfic and plotting things out I ended up working out a "shenanigans au" (fleeting fits of reason) where I could put Johnny and Kerry and V (and Alt and Rogue it turns out) together and just have them interact without plot. Well the plot crept in, but writing some loosely connected 1-1.5k pieces focused on a single scene or idea with minimal polish was incredibly freeing. Then I recorded some of my own podfic! I wrote a chapter of thread-safe in second-person! I wrote imago and decided to incorporate pieces of it into my longfic. Playing around like this has really kept writing fun for me when I don't have the concentration to play the long game.

Additional musings and personal reflections under the cut:

2023 the year sucked ass. It has been god awful. Just the fucking worst! Cyberhanami was in February? March? I remember finishing up some of my prompts that week while I was in another state with friends who were out and about while I was in bed too nauseated and weak to move. Writing was the only thing keeping me from going insane. My health has been shoddy, I had to cancel a much anticipated two weeks of international travel, spent at least two week long periods this year with anxiety so intense it made me almost physically incapable of eating. I had an incredibly expensive panic attack, and the world... things have been better!

I find it difficult to be honest about that sort of thing– my primary instinct is Not To Talk About any of that shit, because well... it's personal! And I handle reassurance about as well as I handle compliments (awkwardly. half in panic. friendly self-deprecation). But it feels disingenuous to celebrate accomplishments without acknowledging the yawning abyss we all struggle with from time to time. I remain cynically optimistic, as always, and I'm seriously grateful for all the connections and shared art and braincells and excitable messages, especially from folks tolerating my tendency to ramble onto tangents and use an oddly formal tone. I don't know what I'm doing, but who does? It comes easier with practice. It has to, right?

See you cool cats in 2024. :3 😼

[thelordofgifs]

@butterflies-and-fishermen I was so touched by your tags on the latest instalment of the fairest stars (the AU bullet point fic “Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils and things snowball” I’ve been posting to tumblr in irregular instalments, for people who missed it) that I thought I’d make a separate post to respond to them here, I hope that’s ok!

#but! But!#Celegorm may be doomed according to Oath rules#but this can't just be a tragedy#(bawling my eyes out)#if the Oath turns you into the worst version of yourself and takes what good you have left#then Celegorm died as a hunter of evil#not a predator of the weak#he gave his life for a worthy cause#for his friend#the Oath too was sacrificed#instead of being the altar on which everything was sacrificed#They will meet again#But even hound and hunter battling Carcharoth together for eternity in the void is a sweeter ending

You’re so right!! Killing Celegorm felt a bit cruel but ultimately I thought it was a much kinder ending for him than his canonical one. I wasn’t even intending to have him reunite with Huan initially (he wasn’t supposed to BE in the fic originally, but he insisted); but when I realised I could actually have something of a reconciliation with Huan for him, I couldn’t resist letting him die fighting evil. As a hunter of evil specifically (I’m so glad you used that phrase!), which calls back to his old role as one of Oromë’s following. (Yes, I totally did that intentionally, it wasn’t an accidental thing which ended up turning out neat, no not at all, why do you ask?)

But what I really wanted to address here was the Oath, and whether it really does “turn you into the worst version of yourself, and strip away the best thing you have left”. This is Maedhros’ line, which Maglor has also echoed in his conversation with Lúthien – importantly, though, Maglor added that he wasn’t sure whether or not he believed it. Do I, the author? Is that how the Oath works? That’s something I haven’t fully decided yet (although it is a fun idea to meta about, there’s been great discourse about the Oath recently) and probably shouldn’t reveal anyway because of spoilers. But I wonder how clearly it’s come across that the Maedhros of TFS wow look it has an ACRONYM it’s all grown up is… not always mentally in the best place. It’s not nearly as bad as it gets in canon – this is pre-Nirnaeth! But he still has so much Angband-related trauma, being chained up by Thingol was incredibly triggering for him, he’s very upset by his little brothers’ terrible deeds in Nargothrond, and he spent like five parts convinced he wouldn’t be able to hold a Silmaril – baselessly, as it turned out. Maedhros is very afraid of himself, and of the Oath. So take that line of his with a pinch of salt! The Oath might have turned Celegorm into the worst version of himself, and taken his best thing (his dog), but he both redeemed himself a little and got to reunite with Huan. Maedhros, for his part, has so far managed to avoid doing anything deeply terrible, and his own “best thing” (Maglor) hasn’t died.

As for Celegorm being doomed according to Oath rules – I’m unsure how relevant that will end up being in TFS, since I haven’t planned that far ahead (or at all lol). But after quite a few months of thinking, I came across the most beautiful line in this beautiful fic by @thearrogantemu: “Everlasting Darkness! As if darkness were a thing that could last!”

… which sums up my feelings better than I ever could.

OKAY I now need to apologise to: both the people I tagged completely unprompted in this rambly self-indulgent navel-gazing post about my own fic; my followers who assuredly did not ask for this pseudo-dvd commentary; readers of TFS who haven’t caught up on the last part and are now spoiled; and anyone who hasn’t read TFS and has no idea what’s going on here (quite intrigued by what you make of it with no context, though).

[sourlemons262]

Hey! I just made a little post on this but I wanted to ask you because you’re writing an amazing amazing fic about Matthew.

Do you think Stay Stay Stay (TV) suits Matthew? Every time I listen to that song it reminds me of him and it just sounds like a song someone in love with Matthew would sing.

And now I can just see Midge feeling like the girl in the song and I have a very cute mental picture of Matthew carrying Midge’s groceries and making jokes while she’s laughing and she’s vexed. And of course, they’re flirting which we all love XD

What do you think?

Heyyyy @daisymydaisycarstairs! Omg I’ve literally never had someone send me an ask about my fic before—I’m so honored and thank you for being the first one to do so! Idk how many of y’all are interested in, or have read, my fanfic, Every Saint Has a Past, Every Sinner Has a Future (ESES for short), but if you find that you care about this post in any way, shape, or form, give me some validation and heart it 🫶. I’ll try to keep the spoilers light, accordingly (pre ch. 5).

Okay, confession time: I eased you in with that super long intro to admit, rather unpleasantly, that I don’t really like Stay, Stay, Stay. 😬 Ikr I’m the worst Swifty on planet earth (/j) 😞 but it’s just too sickeningly adorable and sweet for my taste. I bring this up only to justify that this is why I never really connected that song to Matthew or his potential love interest.

However, I’ve had a few relistens to it and I agree that it would fit Midge and Matthew in many ways! For one, yes, the helmet, the banter, the groceries, the laughing is very, very Matthew. I also think Midge would be the type to throw something at his head when she’s incredibly frustrated.

But in addition to that, the whole part about “dating self-indulgent takers who took all of their problems out on [them]” really rings true for Midge when we consider the other awful prick in her life. And, in general, the whole motif of the words “Stay” in regards to Midge is important, as she unfortunately has begged for someone to “stay.” In this case, however, I can see Midge say it to him in a playful and loving way—a way that doesn’t leave her questioning if he will leave her.

Because of this, your song has (with my reluctant permission bc I’m still not the biggest SSS fan IM SORRY) has been deemed to be worthy entering the esteemed Spotify playlist! (By the way, PLEASE send song requests to add to the playlist! I will look them over and add them if they fit the story, with your opinion on how they do so, of course!)

Because this is an ESES and fanfic-related ask, I’ll include my regular tag-list. Please comment and let me know if you would like me to add or take you off this tag list (or if you’re not interested in asks like this because lord knows I can ramble for ages about the dumbest stuff).

Tag list: @soybean-official @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @tess-is-reading @lemonalienlime @bankofwildflowers @justbrainrot @akisekurahara @fangirlfreak08 @daisymydaisycarstairs @luciehercndale

[olliethescribe]

Let's do.... 24, 33, 54? You can pick and choose, if there are some you don't want to answer, that's quite alright :]

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you? 

That’s a tough one, honestly! - I’m autistic and have adhd - a lot of posts saying “oh, just write everyday and never stop!” and “keep pushing through even when you feel like you can’t” tend to be more harm than good. - Trying to fight through writer’s block only extends it and has lead to some of my worst work.

33. Do you want to be published some day?

Yes, absolutely. - I’ve dreamed of being published since the moment I had stories brewing in my mind - my original fiction means a lot to me and I want to introduce readers to my incredibly personal and queer world I’ve built over the past 12 years. It’d be a dream come true :]

54. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

It’s a toss-up. - When I write fanfiction it’s 90% self-indulgent and 10% for everyone else. - My close friends and family who read my work mean the world to me and their thoughts on my writing matter most to me :] - I also love being the one who creates a story that no one else will. - My most recent fic, No Crime* Only Brooches, is one that I know I’d never see from the fandom - hippoworm fics from people that aren’t me are far and few between despite seeing people constantly looking for more content for them. - So, to sum it up, my favorite part of the process is crafting something beautiful to satisfy myself as well as the ones I love while also making an idea exist for others :]

[lynne-monstr]

Fic Writer Interview

i was tagged by the lovely @forerussake, thanks so much!! what a fun list of questions. alright, here goes

name/nicknames: lynne

fandoms: mostly the king’s avatar these days, though i lurk and read fic in others

two shots: i’m assuming this is a two part fic. i don’t think i’ve ever written any of those, at least not deliberately. I do have a two chapter fic but the chapter break was added specifically to integrate my big bang artist’s piece into the fic, it wasn’t originally by design.

fic - Five Times Yu Wenzhou Gets Stuff Thrown At His Head and the One Time He (Finally) Catches Something

most popular multi-chapter fic: haha well i write almost exclusively one-shots so there’s not much to choose from. 

and anyway, metrics are a finicky thing.

by kudos, Dressed for Sin (Shadowhunters) is the most popular. But that’s just because it’s the biggest fandom i’ve written multi-chapter fic in. By relative popularity within the fandom, this one would probably be pretty low on the list. But it’s one of my favorites because i got to write one of my favorite tropes: alternate first meetings.

fic - Dressed for Sin                                

Since it’s the end of the year i can indulge in a little navel gazing and say that my most popular fics overall were in leverage fandom, probably due to the size of the fandom at the time and writing What Fandom Wanted (ot3 with a focus on eliot, getting together fic with feelings).

If I was going to list my Most Popular (TM) fic based on my vibes for relative fandom popularity I’d probably say the de-aged ywz fic. I wouldn’t say it’s a popular fic overall, but in terms of what i’ve written, i feel like it’s the multi-chapter that’s gotten the deepest engagement. lol maybe because it’s the longest.

fic - Means of Transportation

lol that was a lot of words for someone who has written prob less than 10 multi-chapter fics but the year is ending and is there a better time to be self-indulgent?

actual worst part of writing: when i know exactly what i want but i just can’t get the words right. either because i don’t know exactly how to shape the plot or because the vibes are off or because i just can’t wrangle the dialogue or characterization. knowing what i want and being unable to get there is incredibly frustrating.

how do you choose your titles: I cry.

(okay, i actually do have a document where i keep snippets of lyrics and poetry but tbh they rarely come in handy. a lot of times i just blindly google lyrics to songs on my spotify playlists and hope for the best. my favorite is when i can snip a piece of narrative or dialogue to use as a title but oof the stars really have to align for that to work)

do you outline?: if the fic is longer than a scene or two, yes. it’s very helpful to know where the story is going. i also color code my outlines as I write (green, orange, red for written, in progress, and haven’t started writing yet) so i can get a quick view of where i am.

sometimes my outlines start as rambles and end up as real writing and then i can copy-paste that part of the outline into the actual fic and that is very satisfying.

callouts @ me: write that stupid, self-indulgent, silly idea!! it doesn’t have to be good, it doesn’t have to be a complete idea, it doesn’t have to be anything but fun. also, don’t feel bad about writing fifty thousand fics for the same pairing, you’re not here to be well-rounded, you’re here to have fun.

best writing traits: when i’m determined and in the midst of a project, i can be very good at sitting down regularly and doing 500 words of writing a day. which is wonderful for making progress. also i often get compliments about my characterization and humor in my fic, which i work very hard at.

spicy tangential opinion: i’m sure i have many of them but as usual, when i am asked to list them, they all *poof* into thin air. I have a not-so-spicy opinion that I hate 97% of epithets I come across and would like to throw “the smaller male” into the sun.

tagging: @glorious-spoon, @junemermaid, @afincf-tirwer, @tehfanglyfish, @beatperfume, @undead-robins, @gingersnapwolves, @la-muerta, @vampirenaomi, @dirty-corza

[sloanesallow]

Magic, Madness, Heaven, Sin [CH1]

A simple arrangement. Or is it? (Or, Sebastian and Sloane enter into a friends-with-benefits relationship, and all hell breaks loose.)

warnings: explicit sexual content, incredibly self-indulgent fic writing

read on wattpad | read on Ao3

1: NICE TO MEET YOU

"Fancy meeting you here."

Sebastian Sallow.

Sloane glances down the aisle of library books to see him leaning against one of the tall shelves, smirking like it's the only expression he knows. In the seven years she has known Sebastian they have been, at best, casual acquaintances, and at worst, complete strangers. There is no animosity or bad blood, it is simply due to the fact they operate in different social circles. She is a Hufflepuff, and he is...well, a Slytherin. Not that members of the two houses cannot form friendships, but they have so little in common that it is a rare thing indeed.

It does not help matters that Sebastian's playboy reputation precedes him. He has always been known as a charmer, graduating to heartbreaker in fifth year. By the end of sixth year, the gossip circles labeled him a Lothario. Strangely, most ladies who fall victim to his sorcery do not always have negative things to say about the man. Sloane has tried not to pay too much attention to the rumor mill and what her girlfriends have to say about their sexual escapades, but sometimes it is unavoidable. Suffice it to say, she knows more than she ought to about Sebastian Sallow.

Sloane hates to think she's somehow ended up in his sights. Instead of feeling flattered, she wonders why he thinks she is an acceptable target. And then she feels guilty for jumping to conclusions. Perhaps he is not as bad as he seems. She turns her head to acknowledge his presence and flashes a polite smile.

"Hello, Sebastian," she greets, realizing she does not mind the challenge. "Do you say that to every girl you find alone in an isolated part of the castle?"

Sebastian's expression hardly changes. He pushes off the bookshelf and saunters over to where she is browsing for nothing in particular. But he doesn't need to know that. To Sloane's surprise, he keeps his distance, standing behind her as he reviews the books she is standing in front of.

"In need of some light reading?" he asks, leaning forward to pull a tome from the high shelf. "Perhaps you might be interested in this."

Sloane mumbles her thanks as he places it in her hands and she reviews the title: Leabhar nan Dàn. She thumbs through the old pages and raises her eyebrow when she realizes the text is in a different language, one she isn't familiar with.

"What is this?"

"Leabhar nan Dàn," Sebastian says, tapping the front cover as he pronounces it flawlessly. "It's a Scottish book of poems," he looks at her quizzically. "You don't know Scots?"

"Siobhan Sloane," she smirks. "Irish heritage."

"Ah," he replies, maintaining his amusement about the situation. "Perhaps I can teach you."

"No, thank you."

"Damn. Saw right through me," he softly laughs, shaking his head. He does not back down so easily. "You do know that I'm quite knowledgeable in other subjects, don't you?" he questions with a suggestive glint in his eyes. "I'm always up for a little extra credit."

She understands his euphemisms as clear as day and rolls her eyes, moving past him to place the book back on the shelf. "Flirt."

Sebastian chuckles at her response, leaning against the bookshelf next to her, invading her personal space. "Guilty," he says, watching her movements carefully. "But I can't help it if you bring out the charm in me."

"You flirt with everyone."

Sloane can see him staring out the corner of her eye as she presses up on her toes to tuck the book away. When she feels her blouse pulling out from her skirt, she lowers herself back to the ground to quickly right her clothes. Sebastian's eyes dart to where her hands are, making her feel like she is wearing far less.

"Not everyone. Just the special ones," he clarifies with a devilish grin. "But I have to admit, you are quite special to me."

He moves towards her, placing his hand on the small of her back. Sloane immediately shivers at the sudden contact and his close proximity, glancing at him over her shoulder. Sebastian notices her reaction to his touch and steps closer, pressing his fingers more firmly against her back, feeling at the notches of her spine through her blouse.

"Am I making you nervous, Sloane?" he asks softly, his hot breath tickling her ear. "Or...is it something else?" he adds, voice low and suggestive.

She flutters her eyes shut as he crowds her against the bookshelf, releasing a shaky breath as he leans in, lips dangerously close to her neck. Sloane wonders just how she ended up so easily ensnared by Sebastian, replaying the last few moments in her mind. She should have run the moment their eyes met. A voice in the back of her head reminds her that she still can. Sebastian may be a casanova, but he is not a brute. If she asks him to stop, he will. This much she knows. But she doesn't ask him to stop. No, she finds herself drawn further into the temptation he is masterfully offering.

"You're teasing me," she whispers.

"Oh, am I?" She can hear his grin. His lips make contact with her neck, and he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down to the collar of her shirt. His hands move to hold her waistline, keeping her between his body and the bookshelf. "Well, maybe a little teasing never hurt anyone."

Sloane lets out a tiny gasp as his lips trace the curve of her neck and she shudders when he tightens his grip, pushing her hips against the shelf as he presses his body against her back.

"Sebastian..." His name falls from her lips and she knows immediately it will be her undoing.

His lips leave a trail of warm kisses up her jawline, one hand snaking up to turn her chin so he can meet her gaze, his own eyes smoldering with a burning need. "Sloane..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Do you want this?" His hand falls back to her hip before smoothing down over her skirt to cup her bottom.

"Because I do," he says, grinding his hips up against her arse to create a slow, rhythmic friction.

It is naive to think his attention will last but Sloane decides that it is nice to be desired, as fleeting as the emotion may be. Who is she but another notch on his belt? Perhaps two can play this game. She bites down on her bottom lip to stop it from trembling as she nods, letting out a whimper as he rocks against her. He lowers his head into the curve of her shoulder once more, tracing his tongue up to the shell of her ear.

"Good," he whispers against her skin. His hands roam across her body, teasing her over her clothes before he grasps her hips firmly, pushing against her again, this time with more force. He presses his lips to her ear. "Do you feel that, sweetheart?" he asks, needy. "Do you feel how much I want you?"

Sloane's breath hitches as she feels the pressure and hardness of his arousal against the curve of her bottom through their clothes. His fingers dig harder against her hips, a few sliding under the band of her skirt as he continues nibbling at her neck. She braces herself against the bookshelf as her heart races.

Sebastian grinds against her, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. He whispers against her skin again, "I want you, Sloane. Right here, right now."

Before she can respond, he leans down to tug the hem of her skirt up, bunching it around her waist and exposing her undergarments. His fingers dance across the delicate fabric of her garters, letting out a breathy chuckle at the sound she makes when he snaps one against her skin. He smooths his hand up the back of her thigh before groping her, sliding her bloomers to the side to feel the flesh of her arse.

A small voice reminds her that while they are in a private alcove of the library, anyone could still stumble upon them. "Right here?"

"Yes, right here," he pants, pulling her earlobe into his mouth.

Without further hesitation, he positions her in order to gain better access to her body. He slides his fingers past the hem of her underwear until he can feel the heat and wetness of her core. Sloane grips the shelf in front of her, feeling her whole body blush, bashful over how wet she is. She had not expected this when she came to the library that evening. But was it really that surprising that Sebastian was able to make a move on her so effectively? The way he tells her how much he wants her puts her mind into a haze. She bites down on her bottom lip to stifle her noises of pleasure, arching her hips back to meet his touch.

"Merlin, you feel so good," Sebastian groans as her body responds to him with such unbridled desire, his fingers sliding through the slick collected between her feminine folds. "I could make you come right here, couldn't I?"

He continues to tease her relentlessly, digits exploring every inch of her heat while his other hand holds her steady against him as he rolls his hips forward. The heat of their passion hangs heavy in the air as he works her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. A moan escapes from her throat and she shuts her eyes tight in embarrassment.

She rocks her hips back against his hand as he curls two of his fingers, thrusting them inside of her before pulling back to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex. Sloane's body tenses and she can no longer control the sounds that tumble from her lips as she inches toward release.

"That's it, sweetheart. Come for me," he murmurs, resting his head against hers. "Let go, and just feel it."

He does not stop pleasing her, increasing the pressure and pace until she can no longer hold back. Sloane comes undone in his arms with a trembling whimper, her body shaking with the force of her release. Sebastian holds her close, keeping her upright as her knees threaten to give out from under her. He whispers unintelligible sweet-nothings against her ear, smiling as he kisses her temple.

"You're so beautiful," he sighs, his body still pressed against hers in the intimacy of the moment.

Sloane takes a few moments to catch her ragged breath, panting against the bookshelf as she struggles to hold herself up on shaky legs. Sebastian does not hide the fact he is still aroused; his erection is more obvious without her skirt in the way. She allows the lust-filled haze in her mind to guide her next actions, whipping around in his embrace and cupping his somewhat startled face in her hands. Sloane kisses him urgently, snapping her hands down to the waistband of his trousers to unbuckle his belt and unclasp the buttons.

"Let me...take care of you," she mumbles against his lips. Sebastian melts into the kiss, his hands immediately moving to help her undo his belt and trousers, his arousal twitching impatiently behind the confines of his pants.

"Fuck, Sloane..." he curses, trailing his kisses from her lips down the line of her jaw and back again. As she finally frees his cock from his underwear, he groans, gripping her waistline hard as he thrusts up into her hand. "Yes, please. Take care of me."

Sloane practically falls to her knees in front of him, gazing up at him through her long lashes as she scoots herself closer along the plush library carpet. She grasps at the back of one of his half-clothed thighs while her other hand trails up to palm his length.

"Like this?"

Sebastian moans, his hips moving forward instinctively into her touch. He reaches down to cup her cheek with one hand, the other combing her wild hair from her face. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips before he speaks, dark brown eyes watching her intently. "Gods, yes."

His breath catches in his throat as she begins to stroke him faster and he flutters his eyes closed temporarily as a lopsided smile pulls at his lips. It vanishes the following second as her thumb brushes across his wet crown, causing him to let out a guttural groan.

Sloane studies his reactions, mesmerized by the absolute ecstasy etched into his roguish features. She's never done something like this before, but it has been described to her so many times now that she wonders how hard it could be. She kisses along his shaft, humming at the warmth that meets her lips. She moves up the length of him, tentatively licking at the tip and resting the flat of her tongue against the glistening head.

"Is this alright?" she whispers before repeating the movements.

Sebastian rolls his head back, jaw clenching as he bites back a moan. "Fuck—" he curses again, fingers tightening in her hair. "It's more than alright, sweetheart."

He tilts his chin down again to watch her lavish him, lips parted in not-so-silent wonder. Another string of curses falls from his lips as he thrusts forward, in search of more of her. Sloane takes notice of the way his hips continue to twitch forward and wraps her lips around him, slowly swirling her tongue around the head of his cock before gradually lowering herself down. She moves her hands so they are clutching the back of his thighs, caught in the fabric of his hanging trousers.

His eyes widen and shimmer with pleasure as she sinks further down, the hand on her cheek sliding to hold the back of her neck as he guides her forward. "You're so good at this," he sighs, brows furrowing as he fights back the overpowering sensations.

Sloane hums at his praise, repeating the reverberations as he tugs at her hair again, pressing his hips forward so that he brushes right up against the back of her throat. She glances back at him to find him fighting to keep his eyes open and taps the back of his leg to make him focus. Sebastian snaps his eyes back to hers and his body tenses as if he is coiled like a spring.

"I'm so close, Sloane," he gasps, keeping in time with her movements. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come."

She moans and increases her pace, hollowing her cheeks to suck him in earnest as her head bobs up and down. Sebastian's hands move across her face and scalp as his breathing increases to a fever pitch, her name echoing around them as he loses control completely. With one last thrust forward and a deep moan, he comes completely undone in her mouth, his release washing over him in wave after wave of total pleasure.

Sloane tries not to gag on the taste of him, instinctually swallowing as much as she can before she breaks away to gasp for air. She holds onto his legs to keep herself steady as Sebastian leans forward to brace his weight against the bookshelf. His breathing is ragged as if he had just run across the Quidditch field and back. She gazes up at him, equally breathless.

Sebastian shivers as the last of his orgasm settles through his body. He looks down at her with a peculiar mix of desire and tenderness written all over his beautiful face.

"You're amazing," he mumbles, finally able to catch his breath. A smile pulls at his lips and his fingers comb through her wavy hair, his touch full of affection and appreciation. "That was...incredible."

After a moment of silence, he straightens up and offers her his hands to help her off the floor. They take a moment to fix their clothes and hair and Sloane glances at him with a little bashful smile. She cannot believe what has just occurred, right there in a quiet part of the library.

Sebastian stares at her expectantly with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let's get out of here."

Sloane's smile stretches into a devious grin as she grasps his hand. "Lead the way."