#they can pass Marie around it's okay

[soulflatter]

Tbh all of @paradiseoflust cast falls into Jeanne bait category.

But we have them Marie instead for now.

[moomimob]

do you ever see a take so bad and shocking you just kinda stare at it in disgust for a little before blocking and moving on

[shadowglens]

dutch brings grace along to bronte's ball at the beginning of chapter 4 and arthur is Mad about it

[theclowningbusiness]

A Necessary Conversation

Pairing: Logan Howlett (X2) x Reader 

Tropes: Shy girl, flirty guy

Warnings: Kissing

Other tags: Logan being hot, reader is a mutant but there are no details about what her mutation is/does, nobody good dies bc I said so, fuck Stryker tho, mention of reader almost falling off the Statue of Liberty in X1, mention of reader shaving her legs (is that even something I need to add HELP LMAO), Logan being vulnerable

Background: You’re a mutant living at the x-mansion and you’ve had eyes on Logan ever since he first arrived.

Description: Logan returns from his solo trip to Alkali Lake and you greet him at the door. You manage to embarrass yourself, but thankfully you get interrupted by Marie. Later, you run into Logan again, but before the conversation can go too far, you’re interrupted by Stryker showing up at the mansion. When the dust finally settles, you and Logan finally get the chance to talk.

    You’d been waiting for Logan to come back since the day he left. He’d given you his dog tags the day he left, asking you to keep them safe for him. Since then, you've carried them with you everywhere.

    While you were in your room working on something that Charles wanted you to take a look at, you swore you could hear the sound of Scott’s motorcycle outside. That couldn’t be, Logan had taken it for his trip. There was no way.

   Getting up from where you’d been sitting in your bed, you made your way over to the window and peeked out. When you saw Logan climbing off of the motorcycle, your eyes lit up. Unable to help yourself, you rushed out of your room and down the hall. As you reached the steps, you went down two at a time.

    By the time you made it to the front door, Logan was standing there, his bag still slung over his shoulder. He looked just the same as he had when he left, which was really no surprise. When he spotted you, he gave you a small smile.

    You ran towards him, nearly tackling him in a bear hug. Your arms wrapped over his shoulders, while his responded by wrapping around your waist. Not wanting to be clingy, you let go before too much time could pass.

    “You miss me?” He asked with a smile, which, knowing Logan, was really more of a smirk.

    “We all did,” you replied, not wanting to make it seem like you had missed him any more than anyone else, even if you had.

    “How have things been here?” He hummed, tilting his head as he waited for your answer.

    “Same as always, chaotic,” you joked. “Last week, a kid blew a hole through the wall in the kitchen by accident when he sneezed. How was your trip? You find what you were looking for?” You asked curiously.

    “Kinda,” he shrugged, “I’ve gotta talk to Chuck about it. How have you been?” He questioned.

    “I’ve been alright,” you replied. “I’ve been working on something Charles wanted me to take a look at. So far, I haven’t been able to get too far with it, but I’ve got a few more ideas to try before I give up.”

    Logan nodded as you spoke, seemingly interested in what you were saying.

    “Oh, before I forget,” you hummed, “I have something for you.” Before he could ask what it was, you raised your arm and smacked him on the chest. You tried not to let your thoughts linger on how much muscle was there. “That’s for being gone so long.”

    “That your way of saying you missed me?” He teased.

    “Okay, maybe I did miss you, just a little,” you relented, crossing your arms.

    “Just a little?” He raised a brow. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

    “Fine, maybe more than a little,” you huffed. “I even started missing those little tufts of hair that look like cat ears,” you joked.

    “I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and you’re already insulting me,” Logan sighed, feigning offense.

    “I’m just messing with you. Your hair is fine, Logan. It’s honestly more than fine, it’s good, it suits you,” you began to ramble, as if you couldn’t stop yourself from letting the words come out of your mouth. “You look good, too, not just your hair. I mean, you’re a good looking guy-” Before you could continue, Logan cut you off by clearing his throat.

    “Are you flirting with me right now?” He grinned, exposing the sharp points of his canine. That just shouldn’t be allowed when you’re already flustered. Not when his smile looked like a smirk and it basically invited you to kiss him.

    “What?” You asked, trying to seem nonchalant. You could feel your cheeks heating up from his question. “Psh, no,” you shook your head. “Me? Flirt? No, not at all.”

    “Maybe you should,” he shrugged, once again tilting his head.

    You didn’t even have time to process his words- nevermind reply- when Marie made her way over, greeting Logan. You took that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, running off to your room to try and sort out what Logan must’ve meant.

================

    For the rest of the day, you hadn’t seen Logan again. But he had said he needed to talk to Charles, so you were sure he was busy with that, along with unpacking and being greeted by everyone.

    That led you to now. You sat in the kitchen eating some Doritos when Logan walked in. He wore a tank top and some jeans, and you decided that there really should be a law against his arms being exposed.

    “Hey,” you greeted, nodding your head at him as he took a few more steps into the kitchen. 

    He gave you a grunt in reply, which wasn’t all that unusual. He certainly wasn’t the most talkative man. You watched as he started looking around in the fridge.

    “If you’re looking for a beer, there isn’t any,” you chuckled. “This is a school,” you reminded him. “There’s some Dr.Pepper in there, though.”

    Logan sighed, but grabbed a bottle of the soda and closed the fridge. He turned towards you and leaned against the counter, popping the bottle open.

    “What’re you doing down here so late?” He spoke before taking a sip from his soda.

    “Didn’t feel like sleeping,” you hummed, then nodded to your laptop that lay on the counter next to you. “Plus, I was still working on that project Charles gave me until about ten minutes ago. I realized I was too tired to make sense of anything. What’s your excuse?” You joked.

    “Couldn’t sleep,” he answered, reaching over to take a chip from your bowl and eat it.

    “Can I ask you something?” You started, leaning your head on one hand.

    “Shoot,” he replied with a small nod.

    “What did you mean earlier?” Your voice was small, nervous. “When you said I should flirt with you?”

    Instead of replying, Logan held a hand up at you. He furrowed his brows and you could see his ears perking up. You’d seen him do it before, and you knew he must hear something that he was concerned about.

    Next thing you knew, you were ducking behind the counter while a gun went off overhead.

================

    You were relieved that things were over. You’d found out a lot, about Logan and Alkali lake, about Stryker. It was just a weight being lifted when the dust settled. Now, you took the chance to relax a little. You’d found a nice tree outside the mansion and laid a blanket down to sit on. It was peaceful, and that was what you really needed right now.

    As you sat with your back against the tree, you caught movement out of the corner of your eyes and turned your head to see what it was. It was Logan, walking towards you with his hands tucked in his pockets.

    “How’d you know where I was?” You asked curiously once he was close enough to talk to without shouting.

    Instead of replying with words, he just pointed to his nose.

    “Right,” you nodded with a smile, “Can’t hide from the guy with the nose of a bloodhound.”

    “That, and Scott told me when I asked if he’d seen you,” he smiled, sitting down next to you on your blanket and leaning back against the tree.. “What’re you doing out here alone?”

    “Trying to decompress from all that shit we went through,” you answered honestly.

    “How’re the cuts healing?” He asked, leaning in to get a better look. 

    During the fighting, you’d managed to cut open your forehead and the bridge of your nose. Luckily, that was the worst of your injuries. 

    “I’m fine. They’re just superficial,” you shrugged.

    “I should’ve killed Stryker years ago, then none of this would’ve happened,” he sighed, blaming himself for the entire situation, along with the cuts on your face.

    “Lo, really, I’m fine,” you assured. “Everyone is fine, this isn’t your fault.”

    Logan nodded and leaned back again, looking out in the distance in front of the two of you. You did the same, smiling. It was a beautiful day, perfect for relaxing.

    “Y’know, we never got the chance to finish our conversation,” Logan stated.

    “Yeah, we kinda got interrupted,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the pit of nerves growing in your stomach. “We have time to talk now.”

    “You asked me what I meant when I told you that you should flirt with me,” Logan began, turning his head to look at you. “I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to flirt with me. I’m into you.”

    “Oh.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Logan ‘emotionally stunted’ Howlett was confessing his feelings for you, even if he didn’t use so many words to say it. You turned your body so you could fully give him your attention.“I feel the same,” you admitted, your cheeks warming, “I was just too nervous to say anything.”

    “I know,” Logan smiled at you, “That’s why I decided to make the first move, even if it did end up making you get a little flustered and run away.”

    “In my defense, I didn’t know if you were serious or not. Didn’t know if I should think anything of it, or if I should just brush it off as you teasing me,” you reasoned.

    “C’mere,” Logan hummed, gesturing for you to scoot closer to him.

    You did as he wanted, and his hand reached up to hold the side of your neck, his fingertips resting in the hair on your nape. His thumb ran over the hinge of your jaw slowly. Using his gentle grip on your neck, he carefully led your face closer to his. His grip was light enough that you could pull away if you wanted to, but there was no way you wanted to.

    You weren’t sure how long it took for him to pull you in, but then his lips hit yours. The taste of his cigars was still on his lips as they moved smoothly with yours. He was surprisingly gentle, as if he was trying not to spook you.

    One of your hands lifted to hold the side of his face. You smiled softly, feeling the hair that covered his jaw under your fingers and palm.

    It was too soon when he pulled back just enough to speak, but he had no chance to get a word out before your lips were once again covering his. Now that you’d had a taste, you couldn’t get enough. He was surprised, but chuckled. He kept his lips moving with yours as he grabbed your hips and led you to straddle his lap.

    When you were comfortable on his lap, you slowly pulled your lips away from his.

    “Someone’s eager,” he teased, letting out a content hum when both of your hands settled against his chest.

    “I’ve waited long enough for this,” you defended with a small smile. “I’ve had eyes for you since you first came here. Then you left, and I had to pine after you the whole time you were gone,” you sighed dramatically, but the smile never left your face.

    “You poor thing,” he gave you an overdramatic pout.

    “But, that does remind me, I do have something for you,” you hummed.

    “If you’re about to hit me again, can I get a warning?” He deadpanned.

    “No, I’m serious this time,” you laughed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out Logan’s dog tags. You grabbed one of his hands and placed the chain and tags on his palm. “I believe these belong to you.” You closed his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

    “Knew they’d be safe with you,” he smiled, not his usual, teasing, grin. It was soft, warm. It felt like the smile came straight from his heart.

    He opened his hand and looked at the dog tags. Then, he seemed to make a decision and grabbed them, removing the dog tag attached to the shorter chain. He clasped the shorter chain back together and held it out to you.

    You took it, confused on why he was giving it back.

    Logan picked up on your confusion- of course he did, the man didn’t miss anything- and spoke.

    “If you’re gonna be my girl, I want you to have it,” he answered your confusion as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Want you to keep it safe for me for a while longer.”

    “I’ll keep it with me all the time, I promise,” you grinned, unable to resist leaning in for another soft kiss. “I’ll keep it safe.”

    “And I’ll keep you safe,” Logan replied, pecking your lips. He then placed a gentle kiss to each of the cuts on your face.

    “You always have. You did kinda keep me from falling off the Statue of Liberty once,” you joked.

    “But I didn’t this time,” he cringed as he looked at the cuts on your face.

    “Logan, I’ve had worse injuries from shaving my legs,” you laughed softly. “I promise you, I am absolutely fine.”

    “Okay,” he nodded, relaxing as you pressed your forehead to his. “I trust you.”

    Logan’s hands on your hips lifted you off his lap and sat you on the blanket next to you. He laid down fully on the blanket, using one arm to prop his head up. You had no time to question it before he opened his other arm for you.

    You smiled and laid down on the blanket next to him, tucking your face into his shoulder. In response, he wrapped his arm around you to hold you close.

    “I’m glad we talked,” you said softly, tracing random patterns over his chest with your fingers.

    “Me too,” he agreed, giving you a squeeze with the arm that was around you.

[eternalsams]

Okay Samy hear me out!!

Arthur and you are in this early relationship state where you just can't keep their hands off each other and basically do it all day everyday 🫣 but at camp, opportunities to be alone are rare and Arthur ends up being really frustrated he can't just take you as he pleases.

And you like teasing him knowing this😏 I mean, purposely unbuttoning more than usual your clothes to show your cleavage, bending forward to grab something just in front of him so he can see, "innocently" rubbing his forearm, stuff like that...

You drive him crazy, and I feel like at the end of the day he would just be tired of it and bring you somewhere to deal with this cheeky behavior 😌

Alone With You ➛ Arthur Morgan

pairing: high honor!arthur morgan x fem!reader

warning/content: 18+, fluff, early relationship stage, teasing, smut (unprotected p in v, hair pulling, fingering, cum eating, body worship, praise kink, oral m!receiving, creampie), Arthur and reader in crotchless historically accurate underwears

summary: Was it really your fault if your hands always ended up on Arthur? You couldn't say so. But when Arthur decides to act on it, you're in for a treat.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. Any minor interacting with this will be blocked. You have no idea how much research I made for this, about flowers in rdr2 but also about 19th century underwear, so everything is historically accurate.

red dead redemption masterlist main masterlist

You laughed at something Mary-Beth said as you kept rubbing the blood stains from the boys clothes. Your knees were hurting as you stayed on them all morning washing the camp's dirty laundry. Karen looked up over your shoulder and smirked. "I think Mr Morgan quite likes you, girl." She said as Tilly almost gave herself whiplash as she turned abruptly her head to look at the man a little further. You didn't even bother to look, you could feel his eyes on you. Just as much as he could feel yours when he was busy chopping wood. "Well, good for him because I'm quite fond of him too." You looked at her with a certain spark in your eyes. "So, you are making him all soft!" The blonde chuckled and you smiled at her. "If anything, I'm not making him soft." All three girls turned to look at you with wide eyes before you all burst out laughing.

You were about to share another bold secret when you felt a warm breath on your neck. "Having fun there, ladies?" Your friends' mouths shut as their cheeks flushed in embarrassment. But you only smiled more as you turned to face your lover. His long chestnut brown hair framing his face and tickling your skin. "Hey, cowboy." You leaned back as your felt Arthur's arms wrapped around you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "Hi, pretty girl. Mind if I steal you for a moment?" He didn't wait for an answer and lifted you on your feet, the girls giggling at Arthur's behavior.

You managed to avoid Ms Grimshaw's attention as Arthur pulled you behind a tree. "Feeling adventurous, Mr Morgan?" You whispered as your hands wandered down his chest, playing with the buttons of his flannel shirt. As you were about to unbuckle his belt, his hands stopped yours and he looked sternly into your eyes. "Behave." You smiled and retreated your hands.

He knew that look in your eyes. It was the same one you usually gave him when you'd bend over in front of him, picking something up and looking over your shoulder. Or when you'd let your hand run over his shoulders as he sat around the fire and you'd pass by behind him, your fingers catching the growing locks on his neck and gently tugging on the strands.

You brought up your hands at your own chest and snapped your fingers on the first button, opening your dress just a little bit. Arthur's eyes travelled down and he could guess the swell of your chest, his breath stuck in his throat. His fingers itching at his sides, not knowing if he should stop you or help you getting rid of your clothes. But he quickly made a choice when he heard Bill's voice behind him, reminding him of where you two were. He gently grabbed your hands and took them away from your dress. He kept his gaze on your chest as he buttoned back up your clothes. "I have to leave for a few days. Can you behave while I'm away?" He asked with a little smirk and you scoffed. "Of course, I can. Where are you heading to this time?" You asked as you started playfully fidgeting with his collar. "It's best for you if you don't know. But I'll be back into your arms before the end of the week." He grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, his eyes staring deep into yours. "Promise?" You felt your cheeks eat up at the antic. "Promise, darlin'. I'll bring you back flowers and maybe you can guess where I've been from them." He smiled at you before kissing your forehead.

He made the habit of bringing you flowers from his trips so you could dry them and keep them in a little notebook he got you. You usually could tell where he wandered off based on what kind of flowers he brought you back. "I'll miss you." You pouted as you kept rubbed his knuckles with your thumb, your hand still in his. "I'll miss you too, pretty girl." He brought your hand to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles before pecking your lips and readjusting his hat on his head. He took a few steps back and walked to his horse. A beautiful liver chestnut mare he found in the wild and tamed.

You watched him mount the horse and walked up to them, patting the animal's neck before giving her a sugar cube you picked in Arthur's satchel. "I'll be back in a few days, wait for me." Arthur looked down at you with a tender smile. "Always." You smiled back at him as you took a few steps back, leaving room for his horse to turn and leave camp.

He gave you one last glance over his shoulders and you teasingly played with the laces of your dress, earning a laugh from him in the distance. You chuckled and laced back your clothes before joining back the girls to finish the laundry.

Just as he said, Arthur was back four days later, a dead deer attached to his horse, bringing food to the camp. You watched him carry the animal to Pearson from afar, admiring how he held the heavy carcass with one arm only, the muscles beneath his tan skin tensing with the effort. He then walked back to his horse and delicately took out a purple flower. You smiled, knowing already this one was for you. He quickly looked around and crossed gaze with you. You felt your cheeks flushing as his eyes bore into yours. He quickly made his way to you and took his hat off when he got close, offering you the flower. "I got this for you." He said lowly, his voice just a whisper like he was careful not to break the bubble of intimacy around the two of you. "Thank you, Arthur. It's really beautiful." You brought the orchid to your nose and inhaled softly, the delicate smell invading your senses. "Not as beautiful as you, I'm afraid." You looked up at him and noticed the little pout he gave you, earning a chuckle from you.

You also noticed the thicker stubble on his jaw and gently caressed the side of his face. "Do you need help shaving?" You asked, your fingers finding that little scarred spot on his chin where hair just refused to grow. "I'm all good, only if it's not uncomfortable for you." He smiled as he nuzzled his face in your neck, the rough facial hair scratching your skin and making you giggle. He delicately pulled the fabric of your dress off your shoulder and placed a gentle kiss there before kissing your neck and making his way up to your face with one last peck on your lips. You felt eyes on you and when you glanced past Arthur's shoulder, you crossed Hosea's eyes who was smiling at the two of you, loving to see his alleged son happy.

"Can you guess where I've been?" Arthur's drew your attention back to him as his thumbs started rubbing circles on your waist. You dropped your gaze to the flower in your hands. It was an orchid, that you knew, you recognized the singular shapes.

"It's an orchid." You said, still inspecting the flower. Arthur hummed in approval as he made you step back to join the confines of his tent. "It's not a lady of the night or a night scented, those are white. Or a ghost orchid." You then said as you blindly trusted Arthur with each step you took. "No, it's not." His voice was low. "So it's not the bayou." You kept inspecting the orchid as he smiled, impressed by how much you knew about the flowers he brought you. "Maybe a dragon's mouth? Those are purple right?" You tried to guess, looking up at Arthur with expecting eyes. The man chuckled lowly and shook his head. "It's not a dragon's mouth, guess again."

You felt the back of your knees bump into his cot and one of his hands left your waist to pull the flaps closed. "Oh, I know! It's a lady slipper!" You exclaimed and just as you were about to look up at Arthur, he crashed his lips on yours, swallowing your gasp.

His hands travelled up your body to your face and hold you against him, slowly parting your lips to taste you after days of longing for you. "Arthur... the flower..." You managed to say between hungry kisses. He delicately took the flower from your hand and put it on the little table next to his bed. "Can you guess where I've been then?" Arthur asked as his lips travelled back down your jaw to reach your neck. You tried to gather your thoughts to form a coherent sentence but all you could think about what Arthur's warm lips on your skin, raising goosebumps along your neck. "The...the bayou..?" You said the first place that came to your mind, earning a laugh from Arthur. "Oh, pretty girl... You said it couldn't be the bayou." He openly laughed at how any smart thought you had left your brain the moment his lips found yours. "...right." You sighed and as you were about to take another guess, a very singular Irish accent was heard. "Hey, are ye all not finished in here? It's still daytime now!"

You felt Arthur groan before you hard him, the vibrations of his voice running along your skin. You regained your train of thoughts and looked up at Arthur's closed eyes. "Big Valley. You went to Big Valley." You whispered as you tried to catch your breath. Arthur opened his eyes and smiled down at you, trying to forget Sean's stupid comments. "I sure did." He confirmed your guess and kissed your forehead. "Let me take you somewhere. Just the two of us, for a day or two." He practically begged you and you couldn't do anything else than smile at him. "Of course, I'll go anywhere as long as I'm with you."

"Let's go now." Arthur took your hand in his and went to open the tent's flaps. "Now?" You giggled, following him outside, where every pair of eyes stared at the two of you. "Then when? Let's go now, the others won't miss us." You turned to look at your friends and it was mostly the girls watching you from afar and trying to catch the interesting parts of your conversation. You waved them off and followed Arthur to his horse. He helped you get on the mare, making sure you were comfortable on the saddle before he jumped behind you, surprising the proud animal with the extra weight on her back. For a moment, you were worried you might hurt her back but Arthur reassured you she'd carried heavier than the two of you. "So, where are you taking me, Mr Morgan?" You asked as you turned your torso to look back at him. His arms were at each side of you, holding the reins, and his feet locked in the stirrups. "That, my lady, is a surprise. You'll have to be patient."

"Now, you know patience isn't one of my virtues, Arthur." You giggled as he led his horse out of camp. "That I know." He chuckled and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to keep you against him.

You had spent the entire afternoon riding West, following the setting sun and when you saw the silver lupine fields, you had no difficulty guessing where Arthur was taking you. West Elizabeth, Big Valley. And just as the sun finally disappeared behind the high mountains, Arthur's horse left the main road and sank into the woods, revealing a cute little house among the trees. "Found this cabin two days ago. I saw that huge buck last time I came here. Its coat was brown and white, I'd never seen any deer that color, it was splendid." Arthur told you as he stopped his horse in front of the little cabin. "Did you kill it?" You asked, you knew how much he loved wilderness but you also knew a large deer meant a lot of meat for camp. "I did. Took the meat, skinned it, kept the antlers to sell them. Brought back the meat in camp." He dismounted and helped you get off, catching you carefully as you set your feet back on the ground. "But I drew it in my journal for you." He offered you a smile and guided you to the cabin.

"So, when I left camp a few days ago, I wanted to find it. But I found this cabin first, empty. It's been abandoned years ago in my opinion, and nobody ever came back. I stayed here, got some rest after my trip and the next day, I grabbed my best rifle and went hunting. I got him after more than 10 hours out there." He said proudly and you couldn't help but chuckle. Arthur was a quiet man, a quiet soul, but it felt like when he was with you, he always wanted to tell you his exploits. He always had a story to tell or a question for you. Always wanted to talk with you.

He made sure to lock the front door after you and you discovered the insider of the abandoned cabin. It was a little cold but you noticed an old fireplace so you had no doubt Arthur was going to light a fire to warm you up for the night. "So, why did you bring me here, cowboy?" You asked as you leaned back on your hands on the table. You watched Arthur gathering the logs in the fireplace and cracking a match to start the fire. "You know why, pretty girl." He chuckled lowly as he made sure the fire would last all night. He then stood up and turned to you with a cocky smile. "Do I now?" You arched an eyebrow as he got closer and caged you between his arms. "The camp is too crowded for what I wanna do to you." He mumbled as he nuzzled his face in your neck, inhaling your perfume.

"And what is it you want to do, Mr Morgan?" You tilted your head back, giving him access to your neck. Your lover didn't answer, only planting kisses on your skin, his hands getting adventurous in your back. His fingers trailing down your back, his lips cascading down the column of your throat until he reached the cleavage of your dress, his nose slotting between your breasts. As he was about to reach to unbutton the front of your dress, you did it first, allowing him access to your chest. With one hand, he unhooked your corset, revealing the white chemise underneath. You watched his lips follow the path of his fingers, trailing down your chest as he tugged at the top of your chemise to kiss the swell of your breasts. "Arthur...please..." You sighed lowly, your fingers taking hold on his hair and guiding him where you wanted him.

He happily complied, devouring the supple skin revealing itself to him. You whined softly when he nibbled on the skin, leaving a light red mark before moving to your other breast. "We're all alone..." Arthur mumbled against your skin, moving back up to look into your eyes. "We are." You nodded, your breathing heavy and heart beating fast and hard in your chest. "And you're all mine." He gently grabbed your chin and made you look up into his eyes. "I am." You confirmed before he jumped on your lips, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he held you firmly against his lips. Your movements turned rushed as well, your hands trying to get rid of his coat, pulling the material down his arms as best as you could. He released your face to help you undress him, dragging his suspenders off his shoulders to pull the shirt off his torso.

The only few times you had been intimate with Arthur, you didn't really have the time to get fully undressed. He would usually push up your skirt to your waist, drag down his pants as best as he could to free himself of his confines and take you as fast and quiet as possible. The more of him you saw was when he was doing chores around camp. Chopping wood, carrying haystacks. And that only if the sun was high in the sky, forcing him to work shirtless because of the heat. So when he threw his shirt away, putting you face to face with his naked torso, you felt yourself blush. Your hands started shaking with anticipation and you fought the urge to caress the patches of hair on his chest. You looked back up at him and noticed how dark his eyes were, his pupils completely blown by desire.

"You're so beautiful..." He breathed out quietly, as if to keep the privilege of seeing you like this only to himself. Not daring to draw any attention on you and keep you to himself. Your body received a rush of confidence from his praise and you snaked your arms around his middle, pushing him onto the bed a little further into the cabin. He sat down on it and pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs. His face was once again on the same level as your breasts and he couldn't resist getting lost in the warm flesh one more time. Your hands made quick work on getting rid of your chemise, revealing your naked form to him as he maintained your hips nestled against his.

Occasionally, he'd thrust up his hips, searching friction on his hardening member. And you'd whine, feeling your arousal pool in your lower belly and soak your thighs. "Let's get you rid of this, shall we?" Arthur said in a low voice, the desire well known in his tone. He finished pulling your dress off your body, almost ripping it off you in the process. Now that you were only wearing the bottom of your undergarment, he could clearly see the wet spot on your inner thighs. Arthur was never one to really pay attention to fashion but when he saw the crotchless underwear you were wearing, he thanked all the gods that could hear him. He snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger up your folds, finding them drenched. You moaned his name as you clutched his hair in your grip.

You leaned down and started peppering kissed along his neck, moving up to his ear to kiss the sensitive skin behind it. His free hand was on your ass, holding you firmly against him and encouraging you to ride his hand. And you did, you started rolling your hips, chasing pleasure along his digits. "Such a good girl for me. All soaked and ready for me to take her." He cooed at you, relishing on the lewd sounds of your wet cunt sliding on his hand. "Say it, baby. Say you're my good girl." Arthur looked up at you expectantly. As you were about to answer him, you felt one of his fingers slide in and curl at the perfect spot, making you whine. "We're alone. You can be as loud as you need to. Let me hear you." he said as he kissed the underside of you jaw as you tilted your head back in pleasure. "I'm yours... I'm your good girl." You managed to pronounce, that usual coil starting to tighten in your stomach.

You slightly pulled on Arthur's hair and whined his name, asking for more. He kept peppering kisses along your throat and added another finger in your cunt, feeling your walls stretch around his digits and accommodate to their size. "You're being so good for me. What a good girl you are." He smiled up at you and pulled you down to kiss you. He didn't waste any time before running his tongue along your lips and tasting your moans and whimpers. His fingers were still brushing that delicious spot inside you, bringing you closer and closer and closer. Until you forcefully grabbed his wrist with one hand, pulled on his hair with the other and your whole body tensed up with your orgasm. Arthur let go of your lips as you cried out his name, your voice breaking with the intensity of your release. Your walls spasmed around his fingers and he kept curling them until you completely rode out your orgasm.

When he made sure you were back to him, he carefully pulled his fingers out, admiring your creamy release on them. He brushed his fingers on your lips, leaving a trail of cum across them before sucking one finger into his mouth, tasting the very essence of you. Your tongue darted out automatically, tasting yourself. You opened your eyes and grabbed Arthur's hand, bringing his fingers to your lips and licking them clean. You felt his cock twitch beneath you at the action, his eyes darkening even more as he watched you suck his fingers and savoring your own release off them. As you let go of his fingers, he immediately kissed you, licking the inside of your mouth to taste the remnant of your juices on your tongue. You moaned against him and made quick work to open his pants, getting impatient and needy.

Arthur slightly jumped and flinched as your fingers first brushed his erection. "Hey, slow down, girl. I'm not gonna last long if we don't take it slow." He gently kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms around your waist, spinning you and laying you down on the bed. He pulled off your undergarment and kissed your navel before getting off the bed. He didn't take his eyes off you as he kicked off his boots and pulled down his pants, throwing the jeans somewhere in the cabin. You would've laughed at him for standing so proud half naked, hard cock standing against his belly, in a cabin that wasn't even yours if you weren't so desperate for him to take you. You reached out for him and pulled him to you.

You delicately pulled his underwear down his legs and wrapped your hands around his base, guiding him to your lips. His hand automatically reached for your hair without griping it. You watched as his eyes fell closed, lost in pleasure. You started with a few kisses on his tip, relishing at the taste of the precum gathered there. "God dammit..." You heard him swear above you, not knowing what to do with his hands. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your jaw, inviting him to hold your face. You parted your lips and slowly pulled him into your mouth. Arthur growled, his thumb rubbing on your cheek to distract him but the moment he felt his cock nudging the inside of your cheek and poking at his thumb, he was a goner. He pushed you off him and you released him with a pop. "I can't- I can't..." He sighed out, out of breath. You looked up at him, a string of spit mixed with precum still attached your lips to his tip.

"What can't you do?" You asked quietly, your heart beating fast with how nervous those two words made you.

He looked down at you and felt his heart break in his chest when he noticed the doubt in your eyes. He quickly kneeled down in front of you and kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your lips. "I cannot possibly last if you keep that up." He tried to reassure you between two kisses. You giggled and pulled him on top of you, laying back down on the cot. His hands were nowhere and everywhere at the same time, his hips pressing against yours and his pubes scratching your clit, sending jolts of pleasure up your entire body. You caught Arthur's lip between your teeth and nibble on the rosy flesh. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." He murmured, grabbing his cock between your two bodies and giving it a few slow pumps.

"How long I've waited to have you all to myself and have you screaming my name. Can't have that in camp, yeah?" He pushed his tip against your folds, gathering your arousal and use it as lube. You squirmed and whined, trying to catch his cock with your hole, feeling like you were about to explode if he didn't take you soon. "Well, I wouldn't mind the others to hear. Everyone in camp would know who you belong to, who makes you feel so good you can't do anything but scream my name." He chuckled, bringing his tip to your entrance and pushing in slowly, allowing just the tip to be embraced by your warmth. "Sweet heavens..." He closed his eyes, trying not to shoot his load too fast.

His words had you giggling, his voice anchoring you to reality and the present moment. "You ain't even a believer." You brought your hands to his face, cradling it in your palms. "I know heavens exist, and it's between your legs. You devious goddess..." He sighed and nuzzled his face in your neck, slowly pushing his cock deeper inside you. You could feel every inch of him push against your inner walls, stretching them and carving them with his imprint, his veins. His hands pushed your thighs apart, giving more space for his hips to kiss yours. "Just take me, Arthur... Please." You whined and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him to you. "Alright...alright..." He put one of his hands on your hips and pushed all the way in, until he felt his balls slap your ass and heard his name gasped from your lips. He pulled almost all the way out and thrusted back in, his hips hitting yours at a dangerous pace.

You could hear him mumble things against your skin. And when he wasn't mumbling, he was kissing your skin, practically making out with your neck and leaving purple marks on your skin. One of his hands shot down to your clit and started drawing circles on the bundle of nerves, trying to get you closer to the edge. You wrapped one of your legs around his hips, the new angle having the both of you moaning as he hit that spongy spot inside you. Your voice getting higher and your cunt tighter were a clear sign you were getting closer and Arthur couldn't get more addicted. "That's it, sweet girl. Take what you need, cum for me. Cum on my cock." He grunted as he felt his own release approach, his balls tightening with pleasure as he fought against his instincts to keep his orgasm at bay.

Your moans got louder and your grip on Arthur's hair tighter as you felt your cunt contracting as a wave of pleasure flooded you before every muscle of your body relaxed at the same time, the euphoria having you see stars. Arthur couldn't help the moans from slipping between his lips as he felt your cunt squeezing him. The sight of you cumming on his cock and the sound of his name screamed in such a way pushed him over the edge. The pleasure was so intense, the thought of pulling out wasn't even in his mind, your cunt milking him for everything he had. You felt the warmth of his release pool into you, painting your inner walls white. A low whine left his lips as your cunt clenched around him in overstimulation. You pulled his head out of your neck and brought his face to yours, kissing his lips. His eyes were closed as he tried to compose himself.

"You're okay?" You whispered, pushing a strand of sweaty golden hair out of his face. He weakly nodded and opened his eyes, piercing your own with his green orbs. He gently pulled out, not without a whine from you, feeling way too empty after the moment you just shared. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on before taking his shirt and pouring some clean water on it. You watched him carefully, laying naked on the bed, still floating in your post-orgasm euphoria. He kneeled in front of the fire and held out his damp shirt for a few second, warming up the garment before walking back to you. He delicately pulled your thighs apart and watched his release drip out of you before cleaning you up with the warm wet shirt. "I'm sorry, that was stupid of me to finish inside." He whispered as he massaged your thigh with his free hand. "It's alright." You sat up and kissed him on the lips. You offered him a smile and he gave you one back.

He went to grab your chemise and your undergarment and gave them to you before he slid under the covers, pulling you onto him when you were done dressing back up. He wrapped his arms around you and inhaled the sweet perfume in your hair, probably a new soap you found in town. He closed his eyes, relishing on the feeling of your body against his, nothing to hear except the crackling of the flammes in the fireplace. No Micah annoying the ladies, no Bill telling some perverse story. Only the fire and your breathing, the feeling of your beating heart against your chest. Those long awaited three words almost made their way out of Arthur's lips that night, but he caught them and swallowed them back, feeling like it wasn't the right time. so he simply held you close, his heart beating in symbiosis with yours.

[mallowsweetmiri]

Bestfriend!Remus with no boundaries again because I’m a slut for this trope

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

part 1

“Remi!” you slurred, reaching out with open arms as your best friend stepped into the common room after his prefect rounds. It was unfortunate timing, really, as the Marauders had thrown a surprise birthday party for Mary, and Remus had forgotten about his duties. He’d given Mary her gift at dinner and promised to return in time for one shot. But it was clear now that most of you were already piss drunk, and Remus couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of your clearly drunken state.

“Y/N, darling,” he purred, coming over to embrace you, “I thought I told you to be careful tonight?” You blushed deeply at his words and looked at your feet.

“Well, yes but-” you stumbled to the side, Remus grasping your arms to keep you steady.

“Okay. It’s okay,” he muttered, snaking his arm around your waist to support you. “Let’s take you upstairs.” You immediately pouted at this, trying to pull away from his grasp.

“B-but Rem! I can’t leave the party,” you whined, tugging at his arm. Remus looked around the room. Peter was passed out on an armchair, Mary was snogging Sirius in a circle of barely functioning Gryffindors, and the rest of your friends were nowhere to be seen.

“I think it will be okay, Y/N,” Remus chuckled, practically carrying you to the stairs, “let’s just get you upstairs, okay?” You pouted again but nodded, trying to walk alongside Remus. This was proving difficult and he ended up just scooping you into his arms to take you to his dorm. He opened the door, revealing James passed out on his bed, clothes and shoes still on. Remus breathed out a laugh at the state of his two friends. He shut the door with his foot and carried you to his bed, gently setting you down. “Oh Merlin, Y/N,” Remus grumbled, pulling up the top of your dress that was currently halfway down your tits. You chuckled and covered you chest with your hands.

“Can I-“ you hiccuped, “borrow a tshirt to sleep in?” Remus sighed and went to his dresser, pulling out a shirt for you. You tried to stand up but fumbled forward into Remus’ arms. Luckily, he was very adept at catching you.

“How much did you drink, dove?” Remus asked softly, still holding his shirt in his hands.

“Maybe a little too much,” you groaned, burrowing your face into his chest. You felt it shake as he chuckled. You gave a small smile as you looked up at him, “can you help me with my zipper, please?” Remus sighed and nodded, using his hands to spin you around. He pulled gently on the zipper, dragging it down to the small of your back. You tried to shimmy out of the tight dress but continued to stumble, you body lacking any coordination at this point. You groaned in annoyance.

“Here, love. Just let me do it,” Remus purred, grabbing your bare waist to keep you study. He used his other hand to tug the dress down over your bum. Once it had fallen to your ankles, you tried to step out of it, but your heels got caught in the fabric. You would’ve fell flat on your face if it wasn’t for Remus wrapping his arms around your naked torso and pulling you back against his chest. “Merlin, Y/N,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, tears threatening to bubble up in a drunken mess. Remus buried his face in your shoulder and groaned slightly.

“Shh, it’s okay, Y/N. I’m just worried about you. Just try to stay still, okay?” Remus said softly. You nodded and tried to do as he said. “Put your arms up,” he instructed. You did as you were told and felt him slip the shirt over your head. “Good girl. Now just turn,” he guided you with his hands, turning you around and setting your body down onto his mattress. “Stay there,” he mumbled, dropping to his knee and pulling your dress off of your shoes. Next, he unstrapped your heels, gently setting them next to his trunk.

“Thank you,” you smiled sheepishly, holding your arms out for him. He let out a breathe of relief and came for to embrace you. He hummed into your shoulder.

“Okay, I’m going to get changed and get you some water,” he said, laying you back onto his bed. “Just wait here.” You nodded obediently and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, stripping it off and tossing it on his trunk. Next came his pants and socks, before he pulled on his pajama pants. Your drunken mind raced at the sight, something you’d seen hundreds of times. Your eyes followed him as he moved to grab a cup, using aguamenti to fill it with water for you. He set in next to the bed.

“Thank you,” you muttered again. He hummed in response and climbed over you, pulling you into an embrace as he cuddled next to you.

“Of course, now let’s go to sleep,” he mumbled with a yawn, pulling you flush against his body. You felt yourself blush at this, your drunkenness affecting your body in more ways than one.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, pressing your hips back lightly into his. He grunted and tightened his grip on your waist.

“Go to sleep, Y/N,” he grumbled. You stifled a laugh and shut your eyes, happy that you had such a good friend looking out for you.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

in the forest. l Joel Miller

Summary: your decision led to a quarrel

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, unprotected sex, two infectes, mention of blood, one missing child, mention of alcohol, one accident at home, a quarrel

A/N: i know i said i wouldn't add anything, but i got home from school early and my mood is pretty good so… i don't know what you'll think about this. i mean, apart from a few mutuals i get little feedback. maybe someday. kisses

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

How nice it was... When in the morning you would snuggle into his back while he made coffee, your arms would wrap around his waist or at chest level, the corner of his mouth would lift at that little tenderness. 

Or when your hand would just lightly brush his shoulder or back, or neck, or your fingers would slip into his hair when you passed him, and that was a signal "I'm here with you".

"So it's good?" Tommy asked one day when Joel was helping him renovate the porch in one of the houses.

Joel stirred feeling an unpleasant creaking in his knee. "What are you asking?" he mumbled looking at his brother, who shook his head.

"About you and her." He replied "You seem different somehow."

The man frowned, not really understanding what Tommy was talking about.

"She's good for you, Joel." Tommy went back to nailing as if what he said was obvious. "I can see that."

Joel smiled to himself. He saw and felt it himself. Every day.

But there was a side to your relationship, the one that Joel really liked and to which he sometimes returned in his thoughts when his duties allowed him to. Like when he was nailing the freshly replaced boards in the porch, and in his head the scene from the morning, when you rode him in bed, was replaying.

Damn, you looked so beautiful, so sexy. The first rays of sunlight were coming through the thin curtains in your windows, he could see motes of dust floating lazily in their glow. Up and down, you were moving on him in a steady rhythm, a bit lazy because you both had just opened your eyes. Your hands resting on his chest, your head tilted slightly, your eyes closed and lips parted, from which a pleasant purr escaped. 

Joel couldn't get enough of this view. His hand moved along your neck, all the way to your sternum, between the curves of your breasts. He could clearly feel the strong beating of your heart, you were alive and so real.

Your hand grabbed his and directed it to your lower abdomen.

"Do you feel it? You're so deep, Joel..." you whispered, and he felt it then.

He was inside you, filling you up, and you accepted him, giving him warmth, pleasure and closeness, completely different and more intimate. He started to make small and fast circles on your clit with his thumb and he felt your walls tighten around his cock. You were close, so close. Your movements sped up as if you were trying to catch the fulfillment he was giving you and soon the sweetest moan escaped your throat. 

And when he lifted you enough to slide out of you, your hand quickly stroked his cock so he could cum too. Your lips closed around his red tip so he could finish in your throat and he gladly accepted it.

Lazy sex in the morning. In the evening, on the couch when Ellie was supposed to spend the night with her friends. A quickie in the stable when you came to give him a thermos of coffee. Against the wall, when you came back from some dance party and you couldn't even take all your clothes off. Or in the bathroom, when he took you from behind and you rested your hands on the sink, intoxicated by his body and the heat that filled the room.

Joel was breaking you down into its elements, watching you lose the ability to think rationally for him. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen in his life...

Joel Miller loved you, and it was the best thing that had happened to him in years…

"Mary? Is everything okay?"

The dark-haired woman approached you with a quick step, she was clearly nervous. A strange shiver ran down your spine as she looked at you with eyes full of fear.

"Tell me you saw him!" she said, grabbing your forearm, her fingers painfully digging into your flesh "I beg you! Tell me you saw him?"

"Who? Mary, who are you talking about?" you asked.

"Rory!" the woman groaned, her eyes filling with tears "I've been looking for him for over an hour! Have you seen him?"

You shook your head "I didn't see anyone. I was picking up the laundry, but I didn't see anyone... Mary!"

The woman let go of your hand and grabbed her hair, almost tearing it out in handfuls. "I let him out of my sight for a moment! Just a moment! He's gone!"

You threw Ellie's shirt into the basket and grabbed her hands. "Mary! Calm down. He can't have gone far. You've checked every place."

"Yes!" the woman burst into hysterical sobbing. "I've been everywhere, to every one of his hideouts. He's gone!"

You knew that a five-year-old like Rory couldn't have gone far, but if he was alone in the woods, anything could happen. Your mind was clear. You knew what you had to do.

You grabbed Mary by the shoulders to focus her attention on you. "Find Joel. He should be with Tommy at old Jones'. They were supposed to fix his porch."

"And you? Will you find Rory?"

You nodded. You knew you couldn't wait. When Mary ran towards the main road, you quickly got to her garden and headed towards the fence, which was not far away. Next week they were going to take care of additional reinforcement of this area, so for now no one was there. 

You walked along it for a few minutes and then you noticed it - loose sheet metal at the ground level. Just right for a dog or a fox to get through, or...

You bent the sheet metal further and made it to the other side. Small footprints in the soft ground indicated that Rory was there too. You couldn't wait for Joel and the rest. You set off looking around the forest, stopping every few steps to look for new tracks and you found them. Broken branches, or a visible trace in the ferns. The boy must have gone that way.

A few drops of rain fell on your face. The clouds that had forced you to take off the drying laundry had darkened noticeably. You should find Rory as soon as possible, so you sped up. You couldn't see the fence anymore, the silence of the forest was engulfing you, it was slowly getting darker, and the rain was falling harder and harder.

You thought that Mary must have told Joel and Tommy about what had happened a long time ago. However, you had an advantage over them. You could have reached the boy first. If nothing happened to him...

Your heart was pounding in your chest like crazy, the ringing in your ears was becoming unbearable, but you kept searching. The forest was getting thicker and then...

He was wearing a blue blouse and was sitting curled up under a tree. His pants and hands were all dirty, and huge tears were running down his face.

"Rory..." you groaned, running up to him.

The kid raised his head, he recognized you. Rory raised his little hands, and you quickly took him in your arms. He was so cold.

"Are you okay? Jesus! Your mom is so worried." you said, rubbing his small body.

The boy let out a sniffle. "I wanted to see what was there... And...and... I couldn't get back."

You pushed him away and brushed his dark hair away from his face. "You can't go away by yourself, do you understand? It's not safe here."

He nodded. "Are you mad at me?"

He looked at you with sweet blue eyes, how could you be mad?

"Of course not. Come on, I'll take you home. Mom's worried and..."

This sound froze your blood. You looked up and saw it, the infected was approaching you. Your voices must have lured him, he was probably wandering around aimlessly, but no patrol had come across him yet. You carefully took Rory into your arms. He wrapped his arms and legs around you like a little monkey, trembling all over.

"Hold on tight, buddy." You whispered.

The infected moved quickly towards you. You didn't wait a second longer. You took off running through the ferns and between the trees, thin branches cracking under your shoes, but the screech of the monster was still behind you.

Shit! That's when you remembered. You didn't have a gun. Only a switchblade from Joel, which you always carried with you. It wasn't much. Almost nothing. Rory squeezed you tighter. You had to do something.

You suddenly changed direction of your run, which confused the infected a little, but only for a moment. However, it gave you a little more time. You slid down the small hoard and headed towards the bigger tree.

"Rory, listen to me!" you panted "You have to go up there, do you hear? Go up. I'll help you!"

"I don't want to!" the boy squeezed you tighter "I'm scared!"

"But you have to! I'll come for you, I promise!" With difficulty you tore him away from you and lifted him up to a higher branch "Hide there and stay quiet."

He nodded even though new tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"Be very, very quiet." you repeated, then reached for the knife.

How on earth were you still alive? Rain was falling on your face, your muscles were burning, you were gasping for air, and your hand was still holding the hilt of the knife, now deeply embedded in the monster's head. You were paralyzed for a few minutes by what had happened and how much it had cost you. You slowly got up from the ground and pulled the knife out of the dead body. 

"Rory..." you whispered, your voice sounding strangely alien to you, "Rory..."

You were already turning to go to the place where you had hidden the boy when, to your despair, you saw another one. "Fuck, no..."

He was running faster and faster, and you had no strength left. You would defend yourself, you would fight. As much as your body would allow you. Your fingers tightened around the hilt.

But before you could make any move, a loud gunshot shook the silence in the forest. The infected fell to the ground, hit straight in the head. You turned around.

"Joel..."

He ran towards you. You could see the mixture of fear and anger in his dark eyes, wet hair falling over his face. He grabbed you tightly by the shoulders, and after a moment his hand rested on your cheek as he looked at you searchingly.

"I found him. I found Rory!" you repeated, concerned.

"Are you okay?" Joel asked, shocked by the sight of you.

"I found Rory!" you repeated, completely ignoring his question.

It was only when he shook you and growled loudly "Are you hurt?!" that you shook your head quickly.

"I'm fine. Fine." you finally managed to choke out.

You could see that Joel was furious. His shoulders and jaw were tense. However, you couldn't stay here long, especially since you had already encountered two monsters. You led him to the place where the boy was and Joel helped him down. 

Rory immediately reached out to you so you took him.

"You were so brave." You said letting him snuggle up to you again "C'mon, mommy's waiting for you."

You returned to Jackson in silence. Tommy and a few other men were hanging around the gate trying to split into groups that could go look for the boy. You spotted Mary among them. She ran up to you and took the boy from you.

"He's okay. He got really scared." You said stroking his back.

“God! I will never repay you for this! Never!” Mary sobbed and hugged her son. “Thank you!”

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

Joel slammed the door behind him and looked at you furiously. His jaw was clenched and his hands were on his hips, you could feel his emotions boiling.

"What was I supposed to do?" you asked "Mary came to me. She was shaken and scared."

Joel approached you. "You should have waited for us."

"You didn't see her!"

He hissed and shook his head in disbelief. You didn't understand him. You didn't know what he felt when Mary said you went after Rory alone, or when he saw you in the woods over the remains of one infected and another running towards you, and then when he realized you didn't have a weapon.

"You didn't bring a gun." he growled. "Are you crazy? You could have died! You and that kid!"

"I didn't think we'd meet infected there..." you muttered quietly. "I had your knife."

Joel rolled his eyes and waved his arms in helplessness. "Great. I'm relieved."

"You're unfair... I did what I thought was right."

He looked at you with fury. "That was fucking stupid! If I hadn't shown up there..."

Now you couldn't take it anymore. Joel shouldn't have judged you, he would have done the same in your place. You were grateful that he helped you, but you didn't deserve to be treated like that.

"Now you're overreacting!" you snapped, raising a warning finger. "I've dealt with worse situations before we met."

"So maybe you don't fucking need me then!" he roared and before you could say anything he turned around.

The door slammed and the house fell into silence. Tears welled up in your eyes and you felt as if something very heavy had fallen on your shoulders. You spun around for a moment, not knowing what to do. Finally you decided to wash off everything you had brought from the forest and calm your nerves under hot water.

The house was dark. He didn't know what time it was, but it must have been late. Tommy chased him out of the Tipsy Bison and told him to go home. He didn't want to go back there, or maybe he was afraid? What if you weren't there? 

He drank so much that he struggled out onto the porch and opened the door. Silence. Silence in the house always scared him. And now he was even more scared.

Tommy listened to his confessions, he was a good brother. He understood Joel, but he also knew why you made such a decision. He tried to explain it to Joel, but his brother was still furious.

It was only when Peter, Rory's father and Mary's husband, appeared that something in Joel broke. The man with tears in his eyes approached them, wanting to shake Joel's hand.

"Jesus, you don't even know how grateful I am." he said in a trembling voice. "I came back from patrol, and Mary was panicking. She said you went looking for Rory."

Your name slipped from Tommy's lips. "She found him."

Peter nodded. "I'll thank her in person tomorrow. Mary said she'd bake an apple pie. Thank you, Joel. Thank you so much.”

He patted him on the back and left the bar to join his family. Joel rubbed his hand over his face, sighing quietly. He shouldn't have reacted like that. You did what you thought was right, you always did. He knew he was mad because he loved you and cared about your safety, but he shouldn't have attacked you.

And now, in the dark living room, he took off his jacket and threw it on the couch. He listened for some signals and sounds that maybe you were home after all. That he hadn't fucked up everything. But he didn't hear anything.

So he slowly moved up, step by step. And only when his shoe missed the step and he lost his balance, did he realize how drunk he was. Involuntarily, Joel tried to grab the railing, but it was too late. With a loud bang, he fell onto the stairs, and then slid down them. In an instant, light illuminated the darkness, he heard quick footsteps.

"Jesus! Joel!"

You crouched down next to him as he lay on the floor trying to recover. The world in front of his eyes was spinning. You grabbed his arm to help him up, but he hissed in pain.

"Did you break something?" you asked worriedly.

He shook his head "It's nothing. You're here..."

"Of course I am. Where would I be?" you said, trying to get him up again.

Joel winced, something was wrong. But he wasn't thinking about that now. "But what I said..."

"You need more to get rid of me, Miller." you replied, anxiously looking at him "Joel, did you hurt something?"

"No, I'm fine..."

But when you grabbed his arm he cursed loudly in pain.

"Shit! I think it’s your shoulder."

And you were right.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[theodorenmyth]

Hi I'm new here and I was wondering if you would take a request for Tom Riddle. He just got into a relationship with a very bubbly clingy girl/boy/other. But Tom is very emotionally distant (bc it's Tom). And his partner becomes a shell of what they were because they need affection. And Tom does whatever you think he would do after he realizes.

Heart Unfrozen

Pairings : Tom Riddle x M! Reader

Summary : In the depths of the Hogwarts library, your bright and bubbly nature first crossed paths with the enigmatic and emotionally distant Tom Riddle. Despite his cold demeanor, your affection for Tom blossomed, showering him with thoughtful gifts and constant warmth. However, Tom's inability to reciprocate began to dim your vibrant spirit, leaving you a shadow of your former self. Realizing the depth of his mistake, Tom vows to change, determined to break through his own barriers and show you the love you deserve. As Tom learns to open his heart, your relationship strengthens, proving that even the iciest of hearts can be thawed by the warmth of genuine love.

A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Warnings) : tom being emotionally distant, angst, fluffy ending tho

Word count : 1.4k+

The first time you met Tom Riddle was in the library. You were searching for a book on magical creatures when you noticed him sitting alone, surrounded by stacks of ancient texts. There was an air of mystery around him that piqued your interest, and before you knew it, you were introducing yourself with your trademark bright smile. Tom barely glanced up, his cold eyes briefly meeting yours, but that didn't deter you. You were determined to break through his icy exterior, sensing something special beneath.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Your relationship with Tom Riddle started off like a dream. Despite his cold demeanor, you were the happiest boy at Hogwarts, radiating warmth and positivity wherever you went. You adored Tom, and your affection for him knew no bounds. You were always trying to hold his hand, link your arms together, and surprise him with thoughtful gifts. The first gift was a simple keychain shaped like a serpent, which you thought suited him perfectly. Tom accepted it with a tight-lipped smile, but you noticed the way he quickly tucked it away, as if embarrassed.

"Thank you," he said quietly, not meeting your eyes.

Your heart swelled with affection. "You're welcome, Tom! I just thought it would look nice with your things."

He nodded curtly, and you didn't push further. You were used to Tom's reserved nature, believing that in time, he would open up to you.

As the weeks passed, you continued to shower Tom with little presents—a scarf you knitted in Slytherin colors, a sleek ring with a subtle snake design, and a bracelet that matched one you wore yourself. Each time, Tom's reaction was the same: a polite thank you, followed by him stowing the gift away almost immediately. He never wore any of them, and it started to gnaw at you.

"Do you like them?" you asked one day, trying to keep the hopefulness out of your voice.

Tom glanced at you, then at the latest gift, a watch with an elegant green face. "They're... nice," he replied, his tone flat.

"Nice?" you echoed, feeling a pang in your chest. "Do you not like them?"

"It's not that," Tom said, finally meeting your gaze. "I just...I'm not used to this kind of attention."

You forced a smile. "That's okay, Tom. You'll get used to it."

But you weren't so sure anymore.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Slowly, imperceptibly at first, you began to change. Every time Tom pulled away from your touch or dismissed your gifts, a small part of your brightness dimmed. You started to feel like a burden, questioning your worth. Your friends noticed the change in you, their concern growing as the weeks turned into months.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Mary, one of your closest friends, during lunch one day. "You seem... different."

"'m fine," you lied, poking at your food. "Just tired, I guess."

"Are you sure? You haven't been yourself lately," another friend, James, chimed in.

You forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to your own ears. "Really, I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind."

They exchanged worried glances but didn't press further. You appreciated their concern, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell them the truth. How could you explain that the boy you loved was slowly breaking your heart?

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

As time went on, your once-bubbly personality faded. You stopped trying to hold Tom's hand, stopped linking your arm with his. You even stopped giving him gifts, the thought of another rejection too painful to bear. You began to distance yourself, your presence in Tom's life becoming a mere shadow of what it once was.

One evening, you sat alone in the common room, staring into the fire. Tom entered and immediately noticed your absence by his side.

"Why are you sitting here alone?" he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

You shrugged, not looking at him. "Just needed some space."

Tom frowned, walking over to sit beside you. "You've been acting strange lately."

"Have I?" you replied, your voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes," he said, his frustration growing. "You used to be so...vhappy."

"I guess people change," you said quietly, still not meeting his gaze.

Tom was silent for a moment, his mind racing. He had always been uncomfortable with affection, his troubled childhood leaving him wary of emotional connections. But seeing you like this, so unlike your usual self, stirred something in him. He realized he had been pushing you away, and the consequences of his actions were staring him in the face.

"Is it because of me?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

You finally looked at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "I don't know, Tom. Maybe."

Tom's heart clenched. He had never meant to hurt you, but in his effort to protect himself, he had done just that. Determined to fix things, he reached out and took your hand, holding it tightly.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't realize how much I was hurting you."

You looked at your joined hands, then up at Tom. For the first time in a long while, you saw genuine emotion in his eyes. "I just wanted to make you happy," you said, your voice breaking.

Tom's grip tightened. "I know. And I do appreciate it. I'm just...not good at showing it."

You gave a small, sad smile. "I noticed."

Tom took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening. "But I want to change. I want to be better for you. You deserve someone who makes you as happy as you make them."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes," Tom said firmly. "I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone. And I don't want to lose you."

You nodded, hope flickering in your heart. "Okay. But you have to let me in, Tom. You can't keep pushing me away."

"I won't," he promised. "I swear, I won't."

True to his word, Tom began to make an effort. It wasn't easy for him, and there were times when he still struggled with his emotions, but he was determined. He started by wearing the gifts you had given him, the keychain dangling from his bag, the ring on his finger, and the bracelet on his wrist. He even wore the scarf on particularly cold days, and the watch became a staple on his wrist.

He also began initiating physical contact, holding your hand or linking arms with you in public. It was awkward at first, and you could tell he was still getting used to it, but the effort meant the world to you. Slowly, your bright personality began to return, your smiles becoming more genuine, your laughter more frequent.

One afternoon, Tom found you in the courtyard, sitting under a tree with a book. He approached quietly, sitting down beside you.

"What are you reading?" he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You smiled up at him. "Just a novel I found in the library. It's pretty good."

Tom nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "You seem happier."

"I am," you said, closing the book. "Thanks to you."

Tom reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm glad. I don't ever want to see you unhappy again."

You leaned against him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I don't think I will be, as long as I'm with you."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

As the months went by, your relationship grew stronger. Tom still had moments of emotional distance, but they became fewer and farther between. He was learning to let you in, to share his thoughts and feelings with you. And in turn, you felt your old self returning, your love for Tom only growing deeper.

One evening, as you sat together in the common room, Tom turned to you, a serious look on his face.

"I want you to know," he said, his voice steady, "that I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone."

Your heart skipped a beat, a stupid grin spreading across your face. "I love you too, Tom. So much."

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, holding you close. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

"I never could," you whispered, burying your face in his chest. "You're worth it."

And in that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. Because Tom Riddle had finally learned to love, and you had been the one to teach him.

[moonstruckme]

I would love if you wrote something with poly!marauders and they just being so protective over reader. Like maybe they’re at a party and one always has to have a hand on her and just like always holding her drink and watching out for her 🥲 maybe reader doesn’t even notice it because it’s so normal until someone else points it out

Thanks for requesting!

cw: alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 733 words

“Rem,” you nose at your boyfriend’s cheek. “Sip, please?”

Remus pauses his conversation to pass you your cup. You drink out of it for a moment, but the second it’s lowered from your lips he’s reclaiming it, fingers curled over the rim to keep the top safely covered with his palm. 

“He’s so paranoid,” you complain to Sirius, who’s got his own hand wrapped around your thigh and is kneading the doughy flesh absentmindedly. “Where do you suppose James has run off to?”

Sirius takes a languid sip of his own drink, eyes skimming over the faces in the room. “M’not sure, darling. Kitchen, maybe? Oi!” He glares at John Leedy in the corner. “Your girlfriend know you’re looking at other tits like that, Leedy?”

John goes scarlet, and Remus looks up to scowl at him too as Sirius stands, offering you a hand.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go find him. Moons, we’re going to find James.” Remus nods, still holding your drink as he resumes chatting with the others. 

Sirius slings an arm around your shoulders as you walk, casting noxious looks at John over your shoulder the entire way. In the kitchen, you find James sitting on the counter surrounded by half-empty bottles of alcohol and mixers. He’s deep in conversation with Lily and Mary, but his attention swings to the two of you as soon as you enter, his loose, easy grin brightening. 

Mary sees it and turns around to find the source, calling you over. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night,” she says, hugging you. “Want me to make you a drink?”

You nod eagerly, but James seizes up the booze before Mary can get to it. “No way, heavy-hand,” he teases, holding it out of her reach. “I saw you make your own, it’s at least half rum. I’ve gotcha, sweetheart.” He turns to you with an angelic smile. “What’ll you have?” 

You give Mary an apologetic shrug before batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend. “A rum and coke, please.” 

“Coming up, pretty girl.”

Mary watches his pour skeptically, and Lily scoffs when he puts down the bottle, reaching for the coke. “Okay, that was maybe a teaspoon of rum,” she says. “Think you guys could let her off her leash long enough to have some fun every once and awhile?” 

“She’s having fun,” Sirius argues, gripping you around the hips to lift you onto the counter beside James. He pushes up between your legs, giving you a dazzling smile. “Aren’t you, babydoll?”

Laughter bubbles readily out of your alcohol-lubricated throat, and you clench your thighs around Sirius’ middle, giving him a good squeeze. “Whaddya mean, my leash?” you ask Lily. 

“I’m just saying, maybe the reason we haven’t seen you all night is because these ones—” She slaps at Sirius’ hand where it roves the curve of your hip, and he pulls it back with a wounded look. “—won’t keep their hands off you long enough to let you go anywhere.” 

“Nobody’s stopping her from going where she pleases,” James says. “We’re just keeping an eye on her, making sure she can have fun without anybody bothering her or giving her alcohol poisoning.” He sticks his tongue at the other two girls as he finishes your drink, giving the cup a good swirl to ensure it’s all mixed up, but when he turns to pass it to you, he’s all sweetness. “You don’t mind, do you lovie?” 

You take a sip. It’s syrupy sweet and biteless on your tongue. “No,” you say into James’ warm brown eyes, “I don’t mind.” 

“She’s been hypnotized.” Mary throws up her hands, but she’s smiling. “There’s no hope for her now, they’ve got her in their thrall.” 

You laugh, and James grins at the sound, leaning down to press the tip of his nose to yours. “You agree with them, hm? You think we’ve got you hypnotized?”

You press your lips to his, a lightning quick kiss that has your teeth clacking together from your mirrored smiles, and a denial is on the tip of your tongue before Sirius’ hand, the one on the opposite side of you from Lily and Mary, slips beneath your leg. His fingers roam wickedly over skin no one can see, nails just barely grazing your soft inner thigh. 

You swallow, words lost to you, and Sirius grins.

“I’ll take that for a yes.”

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER TWELVE // LIKE SOMEONE IN LOVE 

series mlist 

Tags — reader believes she isn’t fit for love lol, short chapter again, can you tell I’m sick of writing this series, no smau  Words — 0.7k 

Deep in your soul, you always knew something about you was… wrong.

From the moment you were old enough to look in the mirror and see the hollowness of what stared back, you made a promise to cover it up. You smiled at people in the street, bounced around in your pretty pink skirts and your Mary Jane’s, desperate to fill that gaping hole inside by overflowing it with honey. You told everyone that your favourite holiday was Valentine’s Day, you scribbled messy hearts into the empty space in your worksheets, even when you felt as if you lacked one of your own. 

Some might say you were the love you yearned for, but nobody had any idea how difficult love came to you. It barely came at all. 

Your head whipped around just a little too fast to be casual when a voice broke through the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. 

“You okay?” 

Toge’s voice was gentle, not pushy, but like a humble offering of a chance to respond. He tried to sound casual because he knew he didn’t have much of a right to question you, not after your recent misunderstanding, but the furrow in his brows told you enough. Toge always cared, maybe even too much. He cared about everyone, but he always had a special sort of concern for you. Why? He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but it surely had to do with the warmth in his chest every time you were near. 

You nodded. “Mhm.. yeah, sorry. I just zoned out.” 

He mirrored your action, though unconvinced. It gnawed at him inside, every passing second a chance for the grimness to consume him. He turned his gaze back to the movie in front of you, trying to pay at least an ounce of attention to the plot, but your inner monologue radiated from you and loomed over him like a shadow. 

He glanced at you again, suddenly feeling nervous. His hands twitched and ached to reach out to you, but he had to hold them back. Not yet. He wasn’t deserving of that yet. He still had to win back your trust, to crack away at the boulder chained to him by the ankle. Even if you forgave him, the impact of his foolishness wasn’t nearly as merciful. It lingered, whispering recounts of that night into his ear when he least expected it. 

Your eyes caught on the fidgeting of his hands. Toge wasn’t all that hard to read, not once you got close enough. That flicker in his violet eyes was clear as day, may as well have been loud as a firework. 

Your fingers crawled over the space between you, inching closer. They slipped into his, slotting in like this was nothing other than a reunion of two halves. He glanced to you, shoulders easing just barely. He let out a breath, and he looked back at the screen. 

Your hand was squeezed reassuringly in his, just a silent reminder of his presence. It made your pulse quicken, your heart race faster than sound itself. It was a reminder that you had one at all. 

Love never came easily to you, but Toge was more than a four letter word, more than the butterflies in your stomach and giddiness that pulled at your lips. He flowed into your heart like the smooth breeze of a summer night, seeing the fragile girl before him and inviting her in anyway. 

He looked at you again, a shaky breath leaving him as he braced himself for an impact that had already came and went. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know technically…” 

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you. You don’t have to do any grand gestures, just… just stay with me for now.” 

Just stay. Just prove you’re here to do so, prove you aren’t the fleeting memory of a night at the bar. Prove you’re more than one love song. 

You caught a glimpse of his eyes before you pulled away in cowardice, but the soft, compliant twinkle in his eyes was burned into your mind. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

The end is near and I’m sorry it’s been so shitty lately, I’ve been sick and unmotivated and just trying to get this series over with <\3

I’ve given up can you tell I’m sorry to the people that like this series because I DONT … lol I appreciate the love and support so much obviously I love u all so bad, that’s why I’m so sorry like actually

Taglist — closed 50/50

@anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @adoresia @auroratumbles @sh0ot1ngst4r @soobin1437 @mystic-megumi @cinnamxnangel @lizbix @s3ns4ti0n4l @anonnieghost @s4toruz @gumims @bubybubsters @k4ss11333 @rreveurdoll @kaged-kitty @rwura @aldebrana @hqnge @good-mourning0 @daisies-and-domming @vi0let-writes @dazaisfavgf @hearts4aloise @coolgirl458 @keyaea @jealovsie @sirenla @academiq @mammoanlmao @moonchhu @ichcocat @blubearxy @hayl09 @q2uq2u @potteraep @fiannee @lailakys @jxisnwaol @treeguzzler @yatiimariiee @zayuriluvs @kr1nqu @cloudxox @azinniyaa @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @rottingvxmpire @gradmacoco @spkyssn

[marauder-misprint]

Trust Fund

Sirius Black x Pettigrew!reader

5.7k words

cw: post-hogwarts, swearing, snogging, fluff

Being two years older than Peter, you did your best to not cross paths with him during the five years you shared at Hogwarts. You love your brother. That wasn’t why. You had just hoped that he would make his own path without being seen as your little brother, and he did. You didn’t pay attention to his friends either; you knew they were such a tight knit group that they were still living together now, after Hogwarts. Would you recognize any of them if you saw them out on the street? Probably not. 

You frequented a wizarding club near your apartment that you shared with one of your friends from Hogwarts, Marie. She never came with you, opting to spend time with her boyfriend rather than a room full of sweaty people drinking and dancing. Her loss. 

You usually left the club alone, despite the many times you’d be dancing with someone all night. Because you were such a regular, the bartenders and security guards all knew you, and they knew when you looked ever so slightly uncomfortable and when to step in. Without talking, they could tell when you were done with a person and they’d make sure you were okay when you were leaving. So, you always made it home safe to wake up slightly hungover in your own bed. 

You expect tonight to go no different. You don a simple skater dress; you like the way the skirt would flare as you spin while dancing. Add heels, makeup and jewelry and you’re ready to go. Marie is already gone off to her boyfriend’s by the time you leave. It’s a short enough walk to the club. You tap your wand on the graffiti door in an alley. It solidifies and you’re able to enter. The security guard just nods at you as you pass by some girls who look far too young to be there.

“Hey, why aren’t you asking her for ID?” one of the girls complains.

The guard glares at her and she slinks to the back of her group. You laugh to yourself. You didn’t mind the special treatment you were given as thanks for being a regular. As you step through the second set of doors, you’re greeted with colorful, flashing lights, a thin fog of artificial smoke and the smell of alcohol, sweat and a sweet perfume that you know is misted around intermittently to counteract the sweat. 

You wave to the bartender and he starts to make your usual drink. By the time you’ve moved through the small crowd between you and the bar, your drink is ready for you. You exchange your wand for your drink, as collateral to make sure you pay your tab at the end of the night. You lean against the bar, sipping your drink as you gaze around the club. Music is playing loudly, drowning out any conversation around you. You know you’ll need at least one more drink before you take the floor. Not too many people are here yet and you need more artificial confidence if you’re going to dance on a non-packed dance floor. 

Then the  bartender slides you a drink just as you finish the one in your hand.

“Oh, I didn’t ask for another one yet,” you say.

He leans forward across the bar. “It’s from the gentleman at the end, the one with the curly hair. Taking care of your tab tonight.”

You raise your eyebrows at the bartender after looking where he had briefly gestured. 

“Then, I guess I don’t mind if I do…” you say, picking up the glass and taking a sip. 

You know the guy is watching you, waiting. After a second sip, you abandon your spot to approach him. As you get closer, you see he’s wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt that looked like it once had a design or logo on it at one point but had faded away over time. Even closer, you notice the silver jewelry, on his hands, around his neck and in his ears. Damn, he’s attractive.

“So, Trust Fund, fancy a dance?” you ask before taking a sip of the drink he was paying for.

He cocks an eyebrow at you with a wide grin.

“I’d love one.”

You hold out your free hand for him to take so you can lead him out to the floor. It doesn’t take long for the guy to become touchy, but it’s a good touchy. His chest is pressed firmly into your back with his hands on your waist. His cologne breaks through perfumed air and perpetual smell of sweat. You welcome that. As you continue to dance together, his hands wander, down to your hips, back up to your waist, to your stomach and high, to your thighs. You can feel his breath on your neck. He is so close. 

More songs play and you dance face-to-face as well. He’s just as close for that, his hands resting on your arse. Smiles adorn both your faces. You’re so caught up in his grey eyes, which he is unable to take off of you. You feel oblivious to the rest of the club, but it’s not your fault. He’s just so enchanting, so enthralling.

After a few more drinks, a mix of alcohol and water to pace yourself, you excuse yourself for the loo.

“You, my handsome Trust Fund, better still be here when I get back.”

“How ‘bout I get us another round? Meet you here?”

You nod. And he is waiting for you when you return, two drinks in hand as promised. You’re feeling emboldened. You take the drink he’s holding out for you and you slam it. He watches you with wild eyes. He’s enraptured with you. Then he mirrors your action, slamming his own drink. You take his cup and place both of them on a nearby table. Then you grab his shirt and pull him close to you. It’s the kind of action that makes your intentions obvious, and he obliges, bringing your faces ever closer together until lips meet. He tastes of the alcohol he’s been drinking and faintly of cigarettes. It’s anything but gentle and sweet. It’s hungry and fueled by desire. It doesn’t take long for you to be pushed against the wall, his tongue basically down your throat. You had one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand tangled in his hair. His were groping your arse and holding your hips in place. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been attached to his face, but you break apart when someone near you says, “Get a room.”

You both laugh, resting foreheads against each other.

“My roommate isn’t home tonight,” you breathe. 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. Suddenly, you’re wearing matching grins. He throws an arm around your shoulder and leads you back to the bar, where he exchanges a small pile of galleons for your wands. You give the employees a sly smile, a silent “I’m okay.” The cool air of the night hits you with a wave of sobriety. The man next to you is still stunningly beautiful, which makes you smile to yourself. 

“You live ‘round here?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Yeah, just a few blocks. What about you, Trust Fund?”

“Same. Not too far.”

You turn in the direction of home, his body following your movements. Every once in a while, he presses a gentle kiss into your hairline. The sweet action makes your heart flutter. You know bringing him back to your flat is a signal for certain activities, but the affection he shows you on the way makes you wonder what will become of this. 

“This is my building,” you say once you’ve arrived.

He takes a moment to look at the street sign and building name. You’re not sure if he’s judging it or trying to memorize it.

“Okay, yeah, I know where we are,” he says after a moment. “I’m a bit that way.” He points diagonally backwards. “Would’ve been funny if we were in the same building though.”

“Well, we’re in the same building tonight,” you tell him, opening the front door and holding it open for him.

He follows you up a few flights of stairs and down the hallway to your door. The way he’s looking around, you think he’s counting each flight, each door you pass, so that if he had to come back without your help, he’d be able to.

“Trust Fund, you want tea?” you offer as soon as you lock the flat’s door behind you.

“Why’re you calling me that, huh?”

“What? Trust Fund?” you reply with a giggle.

He nods, tracing his hands up and down your arms as you stand in your kitchen. 

“Instead of buying me a singular drink, you picked up my whole tab before even seeing if I was interested.”

He hums. “Bartender said you’re there often. Maybe I figured your bank account could use a break.”

“You asked Craig about me?” you tease.

“Craig?” he laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Of course you’re on a first name basis with the bartender. You’re there often.”

“And I do drink within my means. My bank account is just fine, thank you very much.”

“So you never… go a little crazy?”

You give him a sweet smile and tuck a curl behind his ear.

“I don’t need alcohol to go crazy.”

He gives you an amused smirk before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, tea would be lovely.”

Quiet conversation flows naturally over your cups of tea. When the cups are empty, you place them in the sink. You feel his eyes watching you, as if taking your movements around your domicile. You begin to head to your room, but when you turn around, he’s still standing in your kitchen.

“Trust Fund, you coming? you ask suggestively.

He breaks out of whatever thought was holding him captive in his own head. He nods, a wide grin immediately appearing. He follows you into your room and closes the door behind you. Sure, your roommate wasn’t home now, but she came home early, there were things she didn’t need to see. 

---

You wake up to an empty bed. Part of you wonders if maybe you’d had too much to drink last night and the beautiful man you’d brought home was all a dream. That is, until you actually get up. Marie is in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. She smiles with a wicked glint in her eyes when she sees you. 

“I see you had fun last night.”

Your hand immediately snaps to your neck. If you had love bites on your neck, then he wasn’t a dream. 

She laughs loudly. “I wasn’t talking about that! Check the fridge.”

You see a note placed under one of the magnets. 

‘Text me sometime -Trust Fund <3’ with his number underneath.

“Trust Fund?” Marie asks after you smile at the note.

“This guy, absolutely stunning by the way, starts off with handling my entire tab before even saying hi. And even if he asked Craig the bartender how much I usually drink, that’s such a ballsy move.”

“And you brought him home.”

“Like I said, he was stunning.” 

“Was he… any good?”

You blush furiously and look away. He had been. The best you’d had in years. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles before loudly sipping her tea.

You move to put the kettle on with a roll of your eyes. As you wait for the water to boil, you reread the short note on the fridge. You like his handwriting, full of flourishes and flair. It fit his style. The note itself made your stomach flip. It meant that he had a good enough time last night too, enough that he wanted to see you again. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about what to text him or when to text him. You didn’t want to come off as too eager, but you didn’t want to wait too long and risk him becoming uninterested or thinking you just got lonely and wanted attention. You’re sitting on the couch with the TV on, but you’re not paying attention to it. You’re staring at your phone. You haven’t texted him yet, but you want to. Boy, do you want to.

“Merlin, just text him,” Marie says, coming out of her room. 

“I don’t want to look-”

“He wouldn’t have left his number if he didn’t want you to text him,” she cuts you off. “I’m sure he’d love to see you again, which he can’t do until you text him.”

“He knows where I live,” you point out.

“That’s just an excuse! Text. Him.”

“Marie,” you whine.

“Do you want to see him again?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Yes.”

“Then text him. Doesn’t have to be much.”

“Like I can just say hi?”

“Yes! It’s not that difficult.”

“Says the girl who’s been dating her boyfriend since sixth year.”

“Whatever,” Marie laughs. “Speaking of, I’m off to Theo’s. You better have texted that poor sod by the time I’m back.”

You open your messaging app as soon as Marie is out the front door.

[Hey Trust Fund :)]

Your phone makes a swooshing noise as the text sends. And you wait. And wait. You stare at the phone. The TV provides background noise for your unraveling thoughts. 

Did I wait too long to text? Did I not wait long enough? Was ‘Hey’ the wrong thing to say? What if he left the wrong number to mess with me? What if last night wasn’t as enjoyable for him as it was for me and he left his number to appear polite but has no intentions of seeing me again? What if-

Your phone dings. His message lights up your screen.

{hey sweetheart - sorry i had to leave, work :/}

[Who goes to the club when they work in the morning?]

{fun people}

[Where do you work?]

{trying to stalk me?}

[Curious to see where Trust Fund gets his money]

{the record store on cornwallis ln}

{always slow in the morning}

It’s fitting that he works in a music store; over the tea last night, he talked a faer bit about his favorite bands, one of which was on his shirt, despite it being so faded. You realize you’re smiling at your phone. You sigh and decide to be bold.

[Hope it’s not too forward, but I’d like to see you again. Last night was fun]

He doesn’t respond as quickly as he had been. You click the off button on your phone to make the screen go dark as you begin to internally panic. Maybe it was too forward. Too quick to suggest seeing him again. 

Then your screen lights up again.

{i’d love that - busy wed evening?}

He’d love that. Your panic immediately subsides. 

[Nope, but I am now ;)]

---

He suggested a local cafe that did cocktail nights with live music. He’d been to a few of them before, describing it as a laidback scene, casual. It sounded like a good idea so you agreed. You had spent far too long staring at your closest deciding what to wear, only to end up in jeans and a flowy top. A cute outfit but not as “trying hard” as a different skater dress or a skirt would have been. He had said he would meet you outside your building and you’d be able to walk there together. 

“Hey gorgeous!” he calls out as he approaches you. He’s wearing jeans, no rips this time, and a different band tee. 

You feel more confident in your outfit. 

“Hey Trust Fund.”

“Oh, still calling me that, are you?”

You laugh, “Well, I don’t actually know your name…”

“Never came up, did it?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Then you hold out your hand and say your first name.

He takes your hand to shake it and laughs with you. “Sirius.”

“Like the star?”

“Surprised you know it.” You give him a do I look stupid look. “Not in that way! Most people just don’t recognize it.”

You watch him take out his phone and go to what you assume is your contact.

“Aw, I’m there as pretty thing? That’s cute! You should keep it!”

“You are, no doubt. That’s why that’s what I went with. But I like names, nicknames. Helps me keep track of who’s who, you know?”

“Got a couple pretty things in your phone?”

He flushes at your teasing. 

“No,” he says slowly. “But I do have roommates who like to steal my phone and change all of the contact names. If they saw one pretty thing, every. single. contact. would be pretty thing and I’d have to spend hours figuring out which one is you.”

“Well, you’re staying as Trust Fund,” you say with a cheeky smile. “Plus, my brother would probably look at my phone and ask ‘why are you texting a star?’”

“You got a brother?” 

“Yup. Just one. What about you? Any siblings?”

“One brother too. We’re not too close.”

“Huh,” you say. “I’m not close with mine either. Siblings, what can I say?”

You both laugh and start to walk to the cafe. 

---

It quickly becomes a thing where you and Sirius are seeing each other in person at least once a week, and texting and calling multiple times a day. It wasn’t like you were codependent already. Sirius was just intoxicating, you were addicted to him. You wanted to share everything little thing that happened with him, and the feeling was reciprocated. And you wanted to share him with the people around you. You talked Marie and Theo’s ears off about him. 

“You sound absolutely smitten,” Theo laughs one evening when he and Marie decided for a night in at your shared flat rather than his. 

“Smitten?” Marie asks, shocked. “She’s obsessed! Try asking her about her work, about her other friends, literally anything else. She will somehow tie it back to this boy.”

You shrug. “Not my fault all topics lead back to him.”

“Apparently it’s my fault for encouraging you to text him. If I hadn’t meddled in your love life, you’d still be single and I would still have my sanity.”

“You lost that a long time ago,” Theo says, wrapping his arms around Marie.

“Theo, you’d love him.” Your eyes light up. “We should do a double date!”

“At least let me meet him first before you force him upon Theo! I think roommate ranks higher than roommate’s boyfriend!” 

Sirius, on the other hand, kept you to himself as much as he could. While he didn’t gush to his friends about you, they still knew how much you meant to him, even if they didn’t know your name yet. It was the way he jumped for his phone when your text notification echoed through the flat, the way he smiled when you called and then immediately took the call in a different room, the way he spent a little extra time to make sure he looked good before leaving the flat to meet you somewhere. 

“Off to see my girl, later dudes,” was yelled as he left, leaving the boys to share a knowing look.

Sirius was serious about this girl. And for them to get a little more information out of him all they needed to do was get some alcohol in him. They were hosting game night with some of their Hogwarts friends. As always, drinks were flowing and Sirius wasn’t holding himself back. 

“Sirius, I have a question for you,” Lily says, cornering him in the kitchen as he went to retrieve another beer from the fridge.

“Shoot, Evans,” Sirius says nonchalantly. 

“James says you got a girlfriend,” she says. 

He cracks open the beer and takes a swig. “That’s a statement, love.”

“You’re not denying it,” she retorts, a smile creeping onto her face. 

“How come you’re talking about my lovelife with Prongs?”

Lily laughs as they return to the group.

“Talking about it is certainly one way to describe it. More like he was complaining that you haven’t brought her round yet.”

“Who hasn’t been brought around?” Mary asks, looking up from her cards. 

“Sirius got himself a proper girlfriend.”

“Proper?” Mary questions. “How proper we talking?”

“Smiling at his phone and hour-long calls,” Remus answers for Sirius.

“Oh! So this is serious!” Marlene exclaims.

“I’m always Sirius,” he replies as he plops down onto the couch next to Remus.

“So you’re going to tell us about her, yeah?” Marlene says, her voice implying it was more of a statement than a request.

The alcohol impedes his decision-making skills. So the first thing he says about you is…

“She’s on a first-name basis with the bartender at the club where we met.”

Lily chokes on her drink.

“She’s an alcoholic?” Peter gasps.

“No! No. No. She just goes, went? Goes there often. Dunno. But damn, she’s captivating as well.” He hums. “I like her. A lot.”

“He admits it!” James says, nudging Lily. “He admits it.”

“Yeah, I heard him, babe.”

“O’ course I admit it,” Sirius says a snippy. “She didn’t mind going to that cocktail cafe.”

“Still sounding like an alcoholic…” Peter murmurs.

Mary slaps his shoulder. “Be nice.”

“She likes to dance. She danced with me at the cafe,” Sirius says before taking another swig of beer. “We walked around that muggle art exhibit and she actually knew stuff ‘bout it. Like composition and whatnot. She’s smart like that.”

“Drinks, dances and knows art… Sounds like a keeper,” Remus says with a laugh.

“Do you have like cute nicknames for each other yet? Lil pet names?” Mary asks.

Sirius smiles widely. “Yeah! Well, she does for me. She has me in her phone as Trust Fund.”

The group just stares at him blankly, which wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“What?” 

“Trust Fund?” Lily asks, furrowing her brows. “So she’s dating you for your money?”

SIrius’ eyes go wide in realization. That nickname needed its backstory.

“No! No, Godric no. The night I met her, I told the bartender I’d pay for her entire tab before I even said hi. So she assumed I had money to fall back on and called me that all night.”

“Certainly one thing to moan in bed…” Peter mumbled, earning himself another light slap from Mary.

Sirius didn’t give him a reaction.

“And then later, she said that if she put Sirius in her phone, her brother would ask why she’s texting a star,” Sirius continued with a laugh.

The air in the room eases. 

“She knows I have a job! And she does too. Honestly, the Black fortune hasn’t come up. She’s not like that.”

“Sirius, we believe you,” Marlene says. “What is she in your phone?”

“Her name with a black heart emoji.”

“Classy,” Remus slurs.

“Shut up,” Sirius says, but his words have no bite.

He’s just smiling into his beer can. 

The next day as he’s cleaning up from game night, Sirius steps into Peter’s room. If he was going to run the dishwasher, he wanted all the dishes and Peter had a habit of hoarding his used cups. A picture of Peter’s family on vacation sitting on the dresser catches Sirius’ eye. Peter is really young in the old photo which Sirius assumes was taken sometime pre-Hogwarts. He can’t help but think the girl standing next to Peter looks vaguely familiar. He probably just recognizes her from Hogwarts, being that she is Peter’s sister, he tells himself, unable to completely place the face. He doesn’t think much of it, grabbing two rather large stacks of cups and leaving Peter’s room. 

In the kitchen, he organizes the cups into the dishwasher and starts it up. Then he moves around the living room, picking up wrappers and cans. 

“Since when do you clean up after game night?” Remus asks, leaning against the doorframe of his room. His voice is scratchy from just waking up.

Looking down at the rubbish in his hands, Sirius says, “I guess since today?”

“What’s eating your mind then?”

“Huh?”

“Padfoot, I’ve lived with you for about half my life. You’re acting like an elf. What’s going on?”

“Just thinking about her.” 

“And that has you cleaning?”

“She’s just… unreal.”

“Unreal,” Remus repeats back to him. 

“Haven’t felt like this about a girl before, Moony. All those Hogwarts girls? They don’t compare.”

Remus chuckles and stands up straighter before walking over to Sirius. He places his hands on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Sounds like you fell quick and hard, m’friend.”

“Fell…”

“If you like her more than all the girls from school… Sirius, you might be in love.”

---

“Hey, Wormtail, where you off to? I thought we were having roommate dinner?” James calls from the kitchen of the boys’ flat. 

“I told you I couldn’t tonight,” he says as he pulls on a coat. “I got that family dinner.”

“Ugh, I forgot!” James groans.

“Is it like national family dinner night or something?” Sirius asks, joining James in the kitchen. 

“Dunno, why?”

“Girlfriend’s got family dinner tonight too.”

“Speaking of,” Remus says from where he’s sat in the living room, “when do we get to meet this amazing chick?

Sirius shrugs. “Whenever I decide she’s ready to handle a game night with you bastards.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m outtie!” Peter calls before the front door slams behind him and the rest of the boys hear the lock turn. 

“Just give us some warning before she comes over, yeah? We’ll clean up a bit,” Remus says with a wink. 

“And if it’s for a game night, we can invite the girls too!” James adds. “Lils, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary. The whole gang.”

“Yeah, and we can invite Reg, and Evan and Junior, and Pandora too. Then I’ll take her to meet my parents immediately after,” Sirius replies sarcastically.

The boys give him blank looks.

“The whole Hogwarts gang might be a bit much. You lot are a bit much, but not much I can do ‘bout that,” he explains.

“Aw, he doesn’t want to scare her off,” Remus coos, joining the other two in the kitchen.

“No, I don’t,” Sirius says firmly. “Now what are you making, Prongs? I’m getting hungry.”

“Spaghetti. Remus, what sauces we got?”

Remus opens the cupboard with a squeak. “Ah, looks like red sauce, red sauce number two, white sauce, green sauce… third red sauce.” 

“Eh. Pick one of the reds.” James looks over his shoulder at Sirius, who is leaning against the counter. “For a girl you’re obsessed with, we still don’t actually know her name.”

---

Peter’s already there when you arrive at your parents’ house. He’s talking with your dad as they set the table. Your mum is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. 

“Smells like I arrived just in time!” you say, taking off your coat.

“I’m setting the table, you’re clearing it,” Peter informs you.

“Darling, go help your mother bring the food to the table,” your dad says.

You do help your mum set the table and you sit down as a family. Since you and Peter don’t live too far away, your parents try to have dinner once a month to catch up. Your dad rants about the people he works with. Your mum discusses the gossip from her book club. Peter starts talking about a movie that he saw with some of his roommates. 

“Oh, I saw that movie with my boyfriend!” you interject.

“You have a boyfriend?” your mum asks, clearly intrigued. “This is new!”

“Yeah, it is. Only been official for a week or so now.”

“You were going to tell us… when?” your dad asks.

You roll your eyes. “I was going to, Dad. I’m an adult, I don’t have to tell you about everyone I date.”

“There’s more?” your mum nearly exclaims.

“Not really, no, but the point is I don’t have to tell you. Until I’m sure they are sticking around for a while.”

“Yeah? You like this one?” Peter asks, putting down his fork. 

“I do, Pete. He’s a good guy.”

“Didn’t you say that about your fifth year boyfriend?”

You snort a laugh. “Don’t go bringing Diggory into this.”

“So, where did you meet this fellow?” your dad asks, trying to avoid a sibling argument. 

Peter never liked Amos Diggory and, while he had treated you kindly for a while, Amos ended up cheating on you. You shut down for a while, which you still think is a perfectly normal reaction, but Peter was concerned for his big sister. 

“Ah, um, well,” you stumble over your words. “This little cafe near my flat.”

You were not going to tell your parents that you met your boyfriend at a club. Meeting at a cafe was a much cuter scenario that kept their internal image of their pristine daughter. You assumed they knew you weren’t pristine, but it was one of those things you don’t talk about with your parents unless you have to. It was easier that way. 

“That’s nice, sweetie. Pete, you seeing anyone?” your mum asks, taking the attention off you for a moment. 

Peter blushes. “No. Been focused on work.”

“Whatever happened between you and that girl… what’s her name… She went to school with you?”

“Really narrows it down, Mum.”

“Martha?” 

“Mary?” Peter all but gasps. He blushes deeper. “Nothing ever really happened with her.”

“So that Appleby Arrows?” you ask your dad. 

Peter didn’t need to discuss a failed attempt at a relationship with your parents. The fact that they knew about it was embarrassing enough. You knew the two were still friends; from what you had heard, he wanted a relationship and she didn’t so they somehow managed to be friendly for the friend group’s sake. Peter gave you a thankful look and you both filled your mouths with your mum’s cooking as your dad started ranting about the most recent match and the horrendous officiating. 

---

“Didn’t we go to school with someone named Sirius?” Marie muses later in the week.

When you first told her your boyfriend’s name, she laughed. It’s just such an odd name, she had said. And now, she was thinking they knew someone else with that name, especially after she told Theo and he brought up school. 

“Probably? He’s a wizard living in London. I would not be surprised if he went to Hogwarts.”

“But surely we’d recognize him then.”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll ask next time I see him. But I can’t say I really paid attention to anyone younger than us, so even if he did, it doesn’t matter.”

“I keep forgetting he’s younger!” she exclaims. “You usually go for the older dudes.”

“Older dudes go for me,” you correct her, a smile playing at your lips. “Sirius just works though, you know?”

“If he makes you happy, I’m happy. I’m not the one snogging him on our couch.”

You laugh. “At least I do it when you’re not home.”

“And I go to Theo’s.”

You clink your glasses in solidarity. 

---

You’re laying on the couch with Sirius, watching an American forensic TV show, when you remember that conversation with Marie. You figure now is as good of a time as any.

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

“Did you go to Hogwarts?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

You hum. “What house were you in?”

“Gryffindor?”

“Oh! You probably know my brother then.”

“Yeah?” he says, looking down at you in his arms. “What’s his name?”

“Peter.”

Sirius sits up, forcing you out of his embrace, with his eyes wide.

“Peter as in Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yeah.”

You move out of his way as he stands up and begins pacing. You watch him, unsure of his reaction.

“Sirius?”

“I’m dating my best friend’s sister? How did… what?” 

My best friend’s sister. So that meant that he was Peter’s roommate now too. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Sirius is pacing and muttering confused fragments to himself.

“Sirius?” 

“You’re a Pettigrew?” he asks, pausing for a moment to look at you.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. That stings. He runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing again. The girl in the photo in Peter’s room is you.

“No, it’s not a problem,” he says after a few paces. “It’s just… just… very, very unexpected?” 

You stand up and go to hold his shoulders, stopping his pacing. 

“It’s good we figured this out before we ended up at your place, yeah?”

He groans but it’s lighthearted. “Godric, that’d be embarrassing.” He pauses as he thinks. “Shit, that’s going to be embarrassing. ‘Hey, Peter. This is my girlfriend. You know her as your sister.’”

Sirius forcefully rests his forehead on your shoulder. You card your fingers through his hair to comfort him. 

“Well, it’s that or you wait for a Pettigrew family event and I introduce you as ‘Sirius, my boyfriend, and Peter’s longtime best friend.’”

“That’s not any better,” he says to your shoulder. 

“We have to tell him at some point.”

“Do we?”

“Probably. Guess it depends on how serious this is.”

“This?”

“Us.” You pause and lean backwards so Sirius has to lift his head back up. “There is still an us, right?”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” he says rushed. “Sorry, my brain is-”

“Taking it all in. Yeah.” You offer him a soft smile before it falls from your face. “Wait, so what’s your surname?”

He laughs. “Legally, Black. Sirius Orion Black. But the Potters basically adopted me when I ran away.”

“Potters… Jake or something?”

“James.”

“Ah… How did our surnames never come up?”

“You were the one who calls me Trust Fund.”

“You’re a Black!” you exclaim, dots connecting. “You are a trust fund! I knew it!”

“Dating me for my money are you?” he teases.

“You paid my tab first. That’s on you.” You lean up to kiss his nose. “And then you won me over by being irresistibly you.” 

“Aw, don’t make me blush.” 

“I think it’s my life goal now.” 

lol this has been sitting in my drafts for a while - was fun to write and polish up

[targaryenluvs]

— ALL MINE

pairing - prowler!miles morales x reader, miles morales x reader

summary - whilst on the run, your boyfriend miles and yourself were taken home. although your hometown is not as it seems. with a shadow clinging to your every move, will you make it out of this universe? part two - not yours

warnings - possessive!prowler miles, he’s like low key delulu, swearing, violence.

notes - i am absolutely in love with prowler miles. THE BRAIDS HAVE A CHOKEHOLD ON ME. sorry if this seems to resemble other fics but i just wanted to do my lil version since all the others are half way done :P and i’m writing again since i’m in the holidays :) also idk if miles can make people invisible but for the sake of this text yes he can. also big fancy words idk if i used em correctly. comment for p2!!!! also pushing the 42miles calling his girl ma agenda 😘

wordcount: 2.1K

you had to catch your breath.

you’d never been the most athletic person in p.e and it certainly wasn’t going to change then and it certainly won’t now. but as miles eggs you on to keep moving you ignore all the un-athletic bones in your body and push yourself to keep running.

as you reach your destination miles grabs your hand and the two of you creep your way inside. miles begins to mess around with computers as margo tried her hardest with the help of lyla to figure out what on earth was going on.

as miles scanned his eyes he pulled you into his arms, “you okay?” he asked as you nodded, “for now, as long as miguel-”

and to your luck he barrelled through the doors at the exact moment you uttered his name. “bloody mary much?” you muttered under your breath as you took a step back.

and as he clawed and fought his way in your hand tightened its grip on miles’s. “it’s okay, he’s not getting in y/n/n. it’s okay.” and as he reassured you to the best of his abilities you couldn’t help but feel grateful. he always put you first, no matter what.

always made sure you and his family were okay.

and his reassurance managed to calm you down as margo looked up at the two of you, her finger hovering over the reboot button but as she looked between the miles and you, she couldn’t help but aid the two of you. as miles pulled his mask over his face, you saw the pure rage painted over miguel’s face and you couldn’t help your indignation towards the man.

but you didn’t see him for long as the pair of you were sucked out of the room and travelling at the speed of light (or so it seemed) to freedom.

the lights were harsh on your eyes.

as you adjusted to the luminosity of the neon signs you looked to your right to see miles on the floor.

“miles? miles!” you rushed over and rolled his body over as he coughed, “i’m okay, i’m okay. how about you?” you smiled, “i’m fine babe. we made it, we made it home miles.” you cried as you engulfed him in a hug.

he smiled as he reciprocated, “thanks to you y/n. but we needa get goin okay?” you nodded as you stood and helped him up by his arms.

“hold on tight.”

you’d honestly forgotten how nice the cold air felt on your face. the thrill of swinging through the city, passing people by as they stared in wonder, slinging by and grabbing a few treats on the way, yours and miles’s normal routine almost everyday in the past six months. you never knew you could miss a place so much.

but being with the spider society and being at the HQ managed to make you deeply homesick.

as you neared miles’s home you felt a weight being lifted off of your chest.

you were almost there.

you had gotten home in time.

you’d save mr morales, be allowed to call him jeff and his wife rio, miles would have his father, he’d continue being spider-man, the two of you would move to new jersey (fingers crossed), miles would study something new (seeing as the two of you have had your fill of other universes in the past few days), you’d study journalism, you’d get your own place, travel, live and love.

together.

as you got to his rooms window you held on to the ledge as miles opened the window and carefully guided you in. you’d never expected to feel so elated at seeing his single bed, his action figures and posters, everything. but as you entered, the waves of fatigue messed with your head to the point where you managed to overlook the contents of his room.

you were so exhausted you didn’t even manage to make it to the bed and relaxed in-front of it in the corner. as you looked around you couldn’t help but frown. it looked, different.

some things were missing such as all the posters and figurines. you chalked it up to mrs morales packing them away perhaps, or miles moving them to his own place.

as you slowly drifted off you missed the creak of the door opening.

rio walked through the door with her laundry basket clung to her hip.

miles turned around quickly, relieved to see his mother. “ah mom, you don’t know how happy i am to see you.” rio furrowed her eyebrows as her son ran over to smother her in a tight hug. it’d been so long since he’d acted so.

and was his hair out?

he seemed shorter too.

what on earth has this boy been up to?

as he rambled on explaining himself she couldn’t help but smile. he seemed so, innocent. before everything, before the pain, before the loss, before it all happened, before he changed, permanently, before her.

“miles, i think it’s cute your into uh what’s it called cosplay? you one of them comics-con kids?”

“what’s that? i- no, this isn’t cosplay ma.”

as she walks into another room miles stands frozen as his uncle aaron walks into the home. albeit a different version of his uncle aaron but it doesn’t change the way miles’s hands are sweating, his heart threatening to implode.

as aaron rested a pile of cash on the table miles stared in awe. “you ready to go miles? damn you took your braids out? what’s going on man?” he joked as he walked to the door his hand gesturing miles to follow along. “yeah lemme just grab something and i’ll be there.”

miles shook you awake and asked you to follow along but not too closely.

you were perplexed as to why but followed along nonetheless. as you made it to the door you saw aaron in-front of miles. and suddenly something came at miles, knocking him out.

you ran to him, “miles! shit, are you okay?” you felt your chest tighten as he didn’t respond, his finger tips twitched yet he was unresponsive. “fuck what the hell did you do aaron?”

aaron couldn’t believe his eyes.

how- what?

you were there. sitting, cradling miles’s body in your arms as you stared up at him.

alive.

“y/n?”

it was a whisper. but you caught it. “no i’m the fuckin sun. yes it’s y/n.” you said as you continued to inspect miles, looking for any signs of injury.

“you want her too?”

your head snapped up as you heard aaron speak again, he was looking behind you and you honestly didn’t have the energy to see someone else right now but as you looked back you wished this was a bad dream.

the prowler.

he stood tall, not as tall as aaron but at least a few inches more so than miles. his suit was a little different, his claws sharper and his mask. he nodded towards aaron, yes.

it was as frightening as aaron’s. aaron. if he was right infront of you you then who the hell was thi-

your head was throbbing so much, but you were currently being tended to. or, you thought you were. someone was lightly dabbing a wet cloth on your forehead, your head was supported by something, it was nice.

when you built the strength to open your eyes you saw miles. “arriba mi vida.” you squinted. “what?” you saw a slight smile on his face, “try to get up.” miles wrapped his hand around your neck, cradling it as you attempted to get up.

you rested against the cold wall as you took in the environment around you. “where are we?” you asked miles as you tried focusing your eyes, you swore you saw the outline of someone tied to a, was that a boxing bag? the light from the window behind them illuminated their outline, their face left unknown.

“shh, está bien y/n.”

“miles you know i cant speak spanish that well.”

“i’m sorry, i forgot. you feelin’ okay ma?”

as you were about to respond the body tied to the bag started to move and mumble, causing you to actually realise that someone was tied up. your eyes were adjusted now and as you looked around and settled on miles’s face you couldn’t help but frown.

“since when do you wear braids miles? and do you honestly think this is the right time to try out a new hair style?” you questioned as he got up, “you don’t like my braids? you use to do em all the time ma.”

your eyebrows furrowed as the body finally came into focus, and you saw-

miles?

you slowly rose from your spot on the floor and looked back and forth from both miles’s. the one in front of you had a certain way to him. his shoulders straightened, taller than usual, hardened face, he seemed so, formal.

whilst your miles was a sloucher most times, not short but he didn’t tower over everyone, usually with a smile donning his face and always easy going.

“i- you.” the words scrambled out and you had no idea what was going on. all you knew was that you needed to get out of here. as you walked towards what you had assumed to be your miles, other miles grabbed your hand and yanked you back.

“whatchu doing?”

“i was seeing my miles. what are you doing? why did you tie him up?”

“can’t exactly have someone running around my streets with my face now can i?”

“okay, i understand that miles but you need to let me go. we need to get back to our universe otherwise mr morales is gonna- and we can’t let that happen you know that. untie him. please.”

“why would i do that shit? what’s so special about him? why does he get to have everything so good? his school, his friends, his family- you.” other miles was getting a little too close for your liking and you found yourself backed up against the wall. not a great position to be in when completely helpless and tired as hell against someone who could probably throw you across the room.

his hand came to your face as he pushed away a stray strand of hair from your eyes. “i- did we- did you date someone like me?”

“not someone like you ma, i dated you.”

“no you dated another version of me. that’s not me, that’s her, wherever she is i’m sure she missed you and if you picked up the phone and called-”

“she’s dead.”

your eyes widened, “i- i’m sorry for you. and for her. i’m sure you loved her a lot but, i’m not her. you’re not my miles, my miles is right there. and i love him. please you have to let us- me go. y/n wouldn’t have wanted this for you i’m sure of it.”

“you gonna tell me she wanted me to be happy?”

“uh i’d assume she wanted that for you. i’m sure you guys were amazing together miles.” you smiled as you tried to suppress your fear. it was hard to, you could feel it slowly creeping in, the miles in front of you was hypnotising, his eyes were warm so warm you could feel them burning into yours. he was absolutely gorgeous, the soft glow from the night life outside highlighting his face. he was so gorgeous it was insane as well as scary. he took your breath away, the same way your miles did.

“we were, and we will be again.”

“i’m not so sure you can bring people back from the dead. i understand you miss her but you need to let her go and move on. speaking of moving on miles and i should be moving on back to our universe so if you would so kindly-”

“i got her right here ma.”

his grip on your hand tightened as he somehow got closer. all the air had apparently hopped out of the room since you felt your chest tighten.

“no me dejarás de nuevo mi vida. your staying with me, here.”

“You won’t leave me again my life.”

“stop it, i understand you’re hurting but please just-” you tried with all your strength to push him away but his feet were planted firmly into the floor, as still as a statue and you couldn���t help but cry.

you’d escaped one place to be potentially imprisoned in another.

“shh, shh y/n/n. i got you right here.” he held you as you sobbed, praying your miles would wake up soon and save the two of you.

as miles held onto you he couldn’t help but feel his tensions and sorrow seep into the floor as he held you again after all this time and as he did he couldn’t help but whisper,

“you’re mine mi amor,

all mine.”

[dreamlanderin]

You don't see me, Part 5 (Sam x reader)

Summary: You're in Green Hollow, Sam and Dean race to find you. Follows after part 4

Warnings: Swearing, blood, gore, horror, angst (Legit almost everything you can expect from a supernatural episode), spoilers if you squint?

Words: 10k (I got carried away)

You’d been following Bobby’s directions for hours, squinting at a hand-drawn map that seemed to make less sense the further you drove. The landmarks he’d mentioned—a crooked signpost, an old water tower—had been there, sure, but they looked… different. Faded, almost distorted, like you’d stepped into some parallel version of the real world.

Your phone was useless out here, the signal dead the moment you’d left the last highway. You’d tried restarting it, even waved it in the air in a desperate attempt to catch a bar, but nothing. Just static.

And then, after what felt like an eternity of wrong turns and second-guessing, you’d found it. The town. Green Hollow.

It didn’t look like much—a handful of buildings huddled together in the middle of nowhere, their facades weathered and crumbling like they’d been abandoned decades ago. But the lights were on in some of the windows, and you’d caught glimpses of movement behind curtains and doorframes. A general store, a diner, what might’ve been a post office—they were all there, clustered around a single stretch of road that barely qualified as Main Street.

At first, it had seemed… normal. Quiet, but normal. Until you stepped out of the bike.

That’s when you felt it. Eyes on you.

It wasn’t subtle, either. People weren’t sneaking glances from behind windows or casually looking up as they passed. No, they were staring. Full-on, unapologetic staring, like you were some kind of intruder who’d wandered where you didn’t belong. A woman sweeping the porch of the general store stopped mid-swipe, her hand frozen on the broom as her gaze locked onto you. A group of kids on bikes paused at the corner, their laughter dying as they turned in unison, their faces eerily blank. Even an old man sitting on a bench across the street was watching you, his eyes unblinking, his hands resting motionless on his cane.

You tried to shake it off, brushing past the unease with a shrug as you headed toward what looked like a diner. You’d figured maybe you could grab something to eat, ask a few questions, and figure out your next move. But when you pushed open the door, the bell jangling above your head, the low murmur of conversation inside died instantly.

Every head turned toward you. Every set of eyes.

You froze, the weight of their stares pressing against your skin like a physical thing. The room was small, just a handful of tables and booths, but it felt suffocating. The waitress behind the counter—young, with a crooked name tag that read Mary—stood frozen, the coffee pot in her hand hovering inches above a mug. The man she’d been serving, a burly guy in a flannel jacket, turned his head so slowly it was almost unnatural, his gaze pinning you in place.

You managed a tight smile, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Uh… is the kitchen still open?”

Mary didn’t answer. She just stared at you, her wide eyes flicking briefly to the other patrons before settling back on you.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath, backing toward the door. “Guess not.”

No, just no. You left the diner without another word, the weight of their stares trailing you all the way to the sidewalk. The air outside felt colder now, heavier, and as you glanced back at the windows, you swore you saw the curtains twitch.

You tried the motel next, if you could even call it that. It was more of a rundown, single-story building with a flickering VACANCY sign hanging crooked above the office door. But when you stepped inside, the tiny reception desk was empty, the bell for service cracked and rusted. You’d called out, your voice echoing in the stillness, but no one came.

It wasn’t just the motel, either. The gas station was locked up, the lights inside dim. The general store had closed early, its door chained shut. Even the post office, which had looked abandoned at first glance, now seemed to hum faintly, like there was someone—or something—inside watching you.

You tried not to let it get to you, tried to tell yourself it was all in your head. Bobby had said there was just some strange weather or something you needed to check out, this didn’t feel like strange weather at all. Did he give you the right map?

 You’d gone back to your bike, luckily it was still there, a part of you thought it might be missing when you went back. It would have to do for now, maybe you should camp for the night? The headlights cast long, distorted shadows across the empty street, and in the rearview mirror, you thought you saw movement—a figure standing just beyond the edge of the light.

But when you turned to look, the street was empty.

By now the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the town cloaked in an uneasy twilight. The streets were deserted, silent except for the faint creak of an old weather vane spinning lazily in the cool evening breeze. You’d pulled your motorbike up to the edge of the road, flicking the kickstand down and cutting the engine. The silence that followed felt too heavy, like it had been waiting to swallow the sound whole.

Unfolding the crumpled map Bobby had given you, you tried to make sense of the faded lines and scrawled notes. The directions had been straightforward enough when you set out, but now the roads seemed to twist and blur together, leading nowhere. Your headlamp cast just enough light to make out the words, but even they felt wrong somehow, like the map was deliberately trying to confuse you. You were hungry and tired, you wish you’d taken some snackss when you’d stopped by the gas station.

You tried your phone again but nothing.

You shifted your weight on the bike, exhaling sharply to ground yourself. It was fine. You’d figure it out. You always did.

But then you noticed them.

At first, it was just a flicker of movement in the corner of your eye—quick, darting, like shadows stretching in the fading light. You brushed it off as nothing, focusing instead on the map. But the flickers kept coming, and when you finally glanced up, you saw them. The children.

They were standing in the dim glow of a streetlamp a little ways down the road, half-hidden in the shadows. Two, no, three of them. Their faces were blank, pale, and still, with eyes that seemed to glint unnaturally in the low light. You recognized them immediately—the same kids you’d seen earlier when you’d first rolled into town. They’d been playing by the fountain in the square, laughing and running circles around each other. But now? Now they weren’t laughing. They weren’t moving at all.

They were just staring at you.

You looked back down at the map, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. It was fine. They were just kids. Probably curious about the stranger in town. Kids were like that, weren’t they? Still, your fingers tightened around the edge of the paper, crumpling it slightly as you forced yourself to focus.

The sound of small, deliberate footsteps broke the silence.

Your head snapped up, and you realized they were closer now. Still not speaking, still not smiling—just standing there, watching. One of them, a girl with long, stringy hair that clung to her face, tilted her head slightly, the movement unnervingly slow. Her eyes caught yours, and for a split second, you felt frozen in place, like she was daring you to look away.

You cleared your throat, gripping the handlebars of your bike. “Can I help you?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

No answer. Just silence, thick and oppressive.

This wasn’t right, you thought. Your hand itched against your thigh, next to you knife.

The boy next to her—a gangly kid with a too-thin frame and a face that looked too sharp in the dim light—took a step forward. Then another. His bare feet scuffed against the pavement, the sound too loud in the stillness.

You didn’t wait for them to get closer.

Stuffing the map back into your jacket, you swung your leg over the bike and fumbled with the ignition. The engine roared to life, a comforting burst of sound that cut through the quiet. You glanced back toward the children, expecting them to scatter at the noise.

But they didn’t move.

If anything, they seemed closer now, their figures outlined by the glow of the streetlamp. The girl’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you revved the engine, trying to drown out the rising panic. You weren’t scared of a few kids. You’d faced worse, far worse. This was nothing. Just your nerves playing tricks on you. Right?

You shouldn't have come here. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that their eyes were following you, even as you turned the bike and sped off down the road. The town blurred around you in streaks of dark shapes and flickering lights, but you couldn’t bring yourself to slow down, not until the uneasy weight pressing on your chest began to ease.

But as you glanced in the mirror, your stomach dropped.

They were still there. And their eyes, they were black now.

Demons. Where the hell did Bobby send you?

You twisted the throttle, the bike roaring beneath you as the town faded behind in a blur of dark shapes and faint streetlights. The air felt heavier with each mile, like you were dragging it with you, and the memory of those children’s unblinking stares clung to your mind like smoke. You told yourself to shake it off, to focus on the road ahead, you needed to leave, and now.

The first time you noticed them, you thought it was just your nerves. A man in a dark coat, standing under the yellow haze of a streetlamp, his head turning to follow as you passed. Then another—a woman in a pale dress, sitting on the steps of a house with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes locked onto you, they flashed black. Then another, and another. Figures standing in doorways, leaning out of windows, scattered across the streets like chess pieces on a board.

All of them were watching you.

Your chest tightened as you leaned into the bike, urging it faster, the engine growling as the wind whipped past your face. The cold bit at your cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the growing weight of their stares. They were everywhere now, appearing out of shadows and corners, their faces blank but their eyes piercing.

Your breath came faster, shallow and uneven, as you tried to push the bike harder, faster. The town blurred around you, the streets twisting and curling like the lines of Bobby’s map. You didn’t know where you were going—just away.

Then you saw her.

She was standing in the middle of the road, a small figure bathed in the pale glow of your headlamp. The white dress she wore was stark against the darkness, its hem brushing her bare ankles as the fabric swayed gently in the wind. Her hair, dark and loose, framed a face that was eerily calm, far too still for a child standing alone in the street at night.

You slammed the brakes, the tires screeching against the pavement as the bike skidded sideways. Your heart leapt into your throat as the handlebars jerked in your grip, and for one terrifying moment, you thought you’d lose control. The bike wobbled, then steadied, stopping just a few feet from where she stood.

The engine idled loudly, its growl the only sound breaking the eerie silence. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your hands gripping the handlebars so tightly your knuckles ached. The girl didn’t move. She just stood there, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, her head tilted slightly to one side as she watched you.

You cut the engine, the sudden quiet almost deafening. The faint hum of the wind picked up again, carrying with it the distant creak of something—maybe a swing set or a weathered sign—moving in the darkness.

She stood, there unphased.

“Hello,” she said, her voice soft and clear, like the chime of a bell.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. “Hey,” you managed, your voice rough and uncertain. “You… okay, kid?” You look at her, please be a kid.

She tilted her head further and gave a faint nod, her dark eyes glinting in the light of the bike. “I’ve been waiting, you know” she said simply.

“Waiting for what?” you asked, your pulse thundering in your ears.

She smiled then, small and faint, but it sent a chill crawling down your spine. “For you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the air felt colder. Heavier. You glanced around, your eyes darting to the shadows that lined the street, searching for… something. Someone. But the street was empty now, eerily so. The figures who’d been watching earlier were gone.

Just you and the girl.

Your hand instinctively moved toward the knife strapped to your thigh, your fingers brushing the hilt as your muscles tensed. “Who are you?” you asked, your voice sharper now, more demanding.

Her smile didn’t waver as her eyes flashed white.

“I’m Lilith”

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

It had taken Sam and Dean almost a full day just to figure out which road to take. They’d driven through the area where Green Hollow was supposed to be—at least twice—but the town itself was nowhere to be found. The map didn’t make sense, the roads didn’t match up, and every turn seemed to lead them back to the same stretch of empty highway.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean muttered, gripping the steering wheel with frustration as the Impala rumbled down yet another unmarked road. “It’s like the damn town doesn’t exist.”

Sam, slouched in the passenger seat with a map unfolded across his lap, ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “The map says it’s supposed to be right here,” he said, jabbing a finger at a point on the paper. “But it’s not. None of this lines up.”

Dean shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that? We’ve been driving in circles for hours, Sam. Maybe Bobby gave us the wrong coordinates.”

Sam shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. His knee bounced restlessly, his fingers gripping the edges of the map a little too tightly. “Bobby doesn’t make mistakes like that. If he says it’s here, it’s here. We’re just missing something.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, like a magic portal, maybe? ‘Cause I’m not seeing a single sign of this Green Hollow anywhere.”

Sam didn’t respond right away. His mind was a tangle of frustration and unease, not just from the endless backtracking but from the weight of the vial still tucked away in his duffel bag. He hadn’t touched it, not since he’d packed his bag back at the motel, but just knowing it was there was enough to keep his nerves frayed. He’d told himself it was just a precaution, but he knew better. The temptation was clawing at him, and the withdrawal only made it worse. His hands itched to fidget with something, but he forced them to stay steady, even as a cold sweat broke out at the back of his neck.

They’d eventually pulled off into a small, run-down gas station on the outskirts of a nearby town, the kind of place where time seemed to have stopped thirty years ago. The fluorescent lights flickered, and the old man behind the counter looked like he hadn’t seen a stranger in years.

“Green Hollow?” the man had repeated, squinting at them from behind the counter. “Why the hell would you wanna go there?”

Dean had leaned against the counter, his tone flat. “Long story. Can you tell us how to get there or not?”

The old man had given them a long, scrutinizing look before finally jerking his thumb toward the window. “You’ll need to take the dirt road about five miles west of here. Ain’t marked, but you’ll see it if you’re looking. Place is a mess of old trails and overgrowth, though, so good luck not getting lost.”

“Great,” Dean had muttered under his breath, already dreading the drive.

“You boys sure you wanna go poking around there?” the man had added, his voice lowering slightly. “Ain’t much left of Green Hollow. Place is washed up. Folks there don’t like strangers much.”

Sam had thanked the man and grabbed the directions, but the warning lingered in the back of his mind as they left the gas station and headed back to the Impala. Dean, of course, hadn’t cared. “Washed up or not,” he’d said, starting the car with a growl of the engine, “we’re finding this place.”

As they drove toward the dirt road, Sam leaned his head against the window, the vibration of the Impala’s engine doing little to calm the restless energy swirling inside him. His thoughts drifted—mostly to you. What was he even going to say when he saw you again? How could he explain himself, the mess he was in, and the way he’d let so much spiral out of control? Every time he thought about it, the words felt like sand slipping through his fingers.

Would you even want to hear him out? He wasn’t sure he’d deserve it, not after leaving things the way he had. But the thought of you out here, alone, in a place that didn’t even seem to want to be found—it made his chest tighten.

The dirt road wasn’t hard to spot once they knew where to look, but navigating it was another story. It was narrow, uneven, and riddled with potholes, winding through dense trees that seemed to swallow the light. The further they went, the more the air seemed to change—heavier, quieter, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Dean had grumbled the whole way, swerving to avoid a particularly deep rut in the road. “This better be worth it,” he’d said, gripping the wheel tighter as the Impala jolted over another bump. “If we end up driving into some Deliverance situation, I’m blaming Bobby.”

Sam didn’t respond, his focus split between the map in his lap and the weight of his duffel bag at his feet. He hadn’t opened it, hadn’t even looked at it since they’d left, but the knowledge of what was inside felt like a lead weight. He’d brought the vial with him. He didn’t know why—it wasn’t like he planned on using it. But the thought of leaving it behind had felt like a risk he wasn’t ready to take. It wasn’t just the blood that haunted him, though. It was you.

His thoughts circled back to you, and he found himself gripping the map a little tighter. He couldn’t stop imagining the way your face might look when he showed up—surprised, maybe even angry. But there was also a small, selfish part of him that hoped you’d still look at him the way you used to, with that quiet trust that had always unnerved him a little because he wasn’t sure he’d ever deserved it.

Then they found it an old sign written in yellow: Green Hollow.

Dean slammed the car door shut, stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, the Impala parked a little crooked near the curb of Green Hollow’s diner. The town, to both their surprise, had a pleasant hum to it. People walked casually along the sidewalks, chatting with neighbors or carrying groceries. A group of kids on bikes zipped past, laughing as they raced down the street.

“This doesn’t look like the kind of place someone vanishes into thin air,” Dean muttered, shielding his eyes against the sun as he scanned the square.

Sam climbed out more slowly, rolling his stiff shoulders. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice distant. The heavy bag slung over his shoulder seemed to weigh more than just his belongings. He could feel the glass vial inside, nestled among his clothes, and it gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Dean gave him a sideways glance as they started toward the diner. “You good?”

Sam nodded too quickly, his hand brushing against the strap of his bag. “I’m fine.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his frown deepening as his gaze dropped to Sam’s hand. It was trembling slightly, the motion faint but noticeable.

“You look like crap, man,” Dean said bluntly, stopping short of the diner steps.

Sam ignored him, brushing past with a muttered, “I said I’m fine.”

Dean didn’t push, though his jaw tightened. Dean’s gaze flicked toward the people milling about the square. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket and opening the door. “Let’s ask around.”

They split up, keeping the square in sight as they started talking to locals. Most of the people they approached seemed friendly enough, offering polite smiles and vague answers about the town’s quiet charm. No one acted suspicious, and no one seemed particularly interested in two strangers asking questions.

Sam spoke with a woman near a flower shop, her apron dusted with dirt and her hands holding a small pot of marigolds. “I’m looking for someone,” he explained, showing her a picture of you that Bobby had dug up. “She might’ve passed through here recently.”

The woman squinted at the photo, then shook her head with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, hon. Can’t say I’ve seen her. But if she’s new, she might’ve stopped by the diner. Folks there know everyone who comes through.”

Sam nodded, thanking her before heading back toward the square to meet Dean.

Dean wasn’t having much luck either. He stood near a group of men loading lumber into the back of a pickup truck, arms crossed as he asked about you. The men glanced at the photo, shook their heads, and returned to their work without much interest.

“Nothing,” Dean muttered when they regrouped.

Eventually they headed to the diner. Inside, the place was all warm lighting and polished chrome, the scent of coffee and grease hanging in the air. A waitress with a kind smile greeted them and gestured to a booth near the window.

Dean slid into the seat first, his eyes already scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary. Sam took the other side, resting his elbows on the table as he tried to focus on the menu. His fingers tapped lightly against the laminated paper, his leg bouncing under the table.

What’s that smell? Something to Sam had smelled familiar, it made his head dizzy and his hands shake. It was all over this place.

“You want coffee?” Dean asked, his voice tinged with a note of something sharper—concern disguised as nonchalance.

“Sure,” Sam said, though he barely glanced up.

When the waitress returned with two cups of coffee and Dean’s order of pie, Sam reached for his cup, but his fingers faltered, the handle slipping slightly before he steadied it. Hot liquid sloshed near the rim, and Dean didn’t miss the way Sam’s hand trembled as he lifted the cup to his lips.

Dean’s frown deepened, but he didn’t comment, choosing instead to spear a piece of pie with his fork. “You think she’s here?” he asked after a moment, his tone casual.

Sam shrugged, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from his cup. “Probably,” he said. “I mean, Bobby said this was the last place she was headed. She might just be laying low—sleeping it off at one of the motels or something.”

Dean’s eyebrow arched. “Sleeping it off? She’s not exactly the ‘kick back and relax’ type.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam muttered, taking another shaky sip of his coffee. “Neither are we, but it happens.”

Dean didn’t argue, though the skeptical look on his face spoke volumes. He leaned back in his seat, watching as Sam stared down into his coffee like it might hold the answers he was looking for.

Sam’s thoughts, however, weren’t on the coffee or even the town around them. He kept picturing the look you might give him when you saw him again—angry, maybe hurt. And he deserved that, didn’t he?

He couldn’t stop the sarcastic thought that crept into his mind: Sorry I ignored you and didn’t call for weeks—my bad. How’s the hunting going?

The corner of his mouth twitched briefly at the ridiculousness of it. But beneath the sarcasm, there was a weight—a fear that whatever he said wouldn’t be enough to bridge the gap between them.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Dean said, breaking the silence.

Sam blinked, looking up. “What thing?”

“The thing where you overthink everything and don’t say squat,” Dean said, pointing his fork at him. “If you’ve got something on your mind, spill it.”

Sam shook his head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean muttered, digging back into his pie. “And I’m the Tooth Fairy.”

They finished their meal and headed back to the Impala, deciding to drive around town to get a better sense of the place. The streets were starting to quiet as evening crept in, the earlier buzz of activity tapering off into the kind of calm that made Dean’s instincts prickle.

They saw it.

Dean slowed the car, his gaze locking onto a familiar shape propped awkwardly against the curb.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, throwing the car into park and jumping out.

Sam followed, his stomach sinking as they approached the bike. It was unmistakably one of Bobby’s—a sturdy machine with just enough wear to show its history.

“This is hers,” Dean said, crouching down to inspect it. “It’s one of Bobby’s. I fixed it up last time I was at the junkyard.”

Sam knelt beside him, his fingers brushing the handlebars. The grease stains were still there, faint but unmistakable.

“Why is her stuff still here?” Dean noted your duffle bag was still attached and looked up, thinking maybe you were close by and that he’d spot you comping up the sidewalk.

“Dean” Sam looked at him pointedly, Dean frowns but notices what Sam was hinting at,

Dean’s hand brushed against the handlebar, and his eyes caught on a streak of something dark near the base of the grip. His fingers hovered over it before he rubbed at it gently, then brought his hand closer to his face.

“Is that…?” Dean’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening as he recognized the faint but undeniable smear of blood.

Sam stiffened, his chest tightening. “It’s fresh,” he said quietly, his hand gripping the strap of his bag like it might anchor him.

Dean glanced around the street, his gaze sharp. “Alright, now I’m officially not liking this”

“Don’t look at them, act normal” Sam whispered “It’s impossible for nobody to have seen her, either there is something wrong with this town, or there is something wrong with them”

Dean’s jaw tightened as he glanced at Sam, his grip on the wheel still firm. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘something wrong with them’?” he asked, his voice low but edged with unease.

Sam shifted, keeping his voice steady despite the jitteriness clawing at his insides. “I mean, they’re too normal. It’s like they’re trying too hard not to notice us—or the bike.” He gestured subtly toward the people walking down the street, all of them going about their business as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Not one of them had so much as glanced in the direction of the bike, even though it was left awkwardly propped on the sidewalk.

Dean’s eyes flicked back to the street. The people moved in a rhythm that felt… off. Perfectly timed, like they were part of some eerie choreographed routine. A woman pushing a stroller stopped at the exact same moment a man adjusted his tie, as if they were mirroring each other. A group of kids laughed too loudly as they walked past, their laughter abrupt and out of sync, cutting off too quickly.

Dean muttered under his breath, “Yeah, no, that’s not creepy at all.”

Sam leaned closer, lowering his voice even further. “Don’t stare. Just… keep it casual.”

Dean shot him a sidelong glance, one brow arched. “We’re driving a classic car through the middle of a washed-up ghost town. Casual isn’t exactly in the cards.”

Sam’s hand twitched, and he clenched it into a fist to steady the tremor. His palms felt clammy, and he rubbed them against his jeans as he tried to focus. “Look, all I’m saying is we don’t know what we’re walking into. This place isn’t right, and if they’re not going to give us anything willingly, we’ll have to figure it out another way.”

Dean sighed, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Great. So, what’s the plan, genius?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the street ahead, his mind racing through the possibilities. “We start with the motel,” he said finally. “If she’s not there, we’ll ask around—but carefully. If they’re hiding something, we don’t want to tip them off.”

Dean nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Fine. But if one of these Stepford rejects tries anything, I’m not playing nice.”

Sam almost smiled at that, but the weight of the situation kept his expression grim. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Sam’s gaze lingered on the bike. The faint smear of blood and the ignition still on gnawed at him. You had to be somewhere close. He just hoped they weren’t already too late. Please be okay, please, please

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The cold, hard floor beneath you was a poor substitute for shelter, but it was the best you could manage under the circumstances. You didn’t know how long you’d been here—probably just a few hours—but it felt like an eternity. The first rays of sunlight began creeping through the grime-covered windows, casting faint streaks of pale gold across the room. It was almost comforting, but not enough to banish the dread clawing at your chest.

Your body ached in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You shifted slightly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through your side. You pressed your hand against the source—a gash just above your hip. It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it was bleeding more than you liked, the steady trickle soaking through the makeshift bandage you’d tied around it. Your left arm wasn’t much better; a long scrape ran from your elbow to your wrist, raw and throbbing. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to make every movement a struggle.

Your thoughts replayed the chaos from hours earlier, every detail burned into your mind. When Lilith had finally revealed herself, you’d bolted, your instincts screaming at you to run. You’d leapt onto your bike, the engine roaring to life as you sped away. But the moment you turned out of the main street, you realized you weren’t alone. The townspeople—those same eerily vacant faces that had stared at you when you arrived—had started to chase you.

They came out of nowhere, spilling onto the streets like a wave, their footsteps pounding against the asphalt as they gained on you. You had pushed the bike as fast as it would go, weaving between narrow streets and tight corners, but they were relentless. One of them—a man with hollow eyes and dirt-streaked clothes—had managed to grab at your arm as you turned a corner. His grip was iron-strong, his nails clawing into your skin as he nearly dragged you off the bike. The memory of his face—too close, too wrong—sent a shiver down your spine.

In a panic, you’d reached for the knife strapped to your thigh, slashing at him with wild desperation. The blade cut deep, and he stumbled back with a guttural sound that didn’t quite seem human. Blood had splattered onto your arm, hot and sticky, but you didn’t dare look back. You’d gunned the throttle, the engine screaming as you tore down the road, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. You didn’t even notice you were hurt

But the bike was loud, and it drew attention. You could hear them behind you, their shouts echoing in the night, growing louder with every turn. You knew you couldn’t outrun them forever—not on the bike. It was too conspicuous, too easy to track. You needed to disappear. So, when you spotted the outline of the old school in the distance, you made your choice.

You’d parked the bike.. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, but you didn’t wait around. You grabbed your bag, slipped the knife back into its sheath, and ran, your boots crunching against the gravel as you darted toward the schoolyard. The building loomed ahead, its dark windows staring back at you like empty eyes. It was large enough to hide in, with plenty of rooms to keep you out of sight. You hadn’t seen anyone else as you crept inside, but you hadn’t taken any chances.

Now, in the relative stillness of the classroom you’d chosen, you took stock of what little you had. The desks and chairs scattered around the room had been pushed to one side to make space for your rudimentary fortifications. On such short notice, you’d done what you could to ward off any demons that might come sniffing around.

A quick search of the school had turned up a few supplies: an old box of chalk, a rusty pair of scissors, and some forgotten cleaning supplies tucked away in a janitor’s closet. It wasn’t much, but you’d made it work. Using the chalk, you’d drawn a devil’s trap on the floor just inside the door, ensuring that any demon who stepped into the room would be instantly immobilized. The scissors weren’t exactly iron, but they’d do in a pinch as a makeshift weapon if you had to fight your way out.

You’d also found a bottle of salt in one of the abandoned classrooms—probably left behind by a teacher who’d used it for a science experiment. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to line the windowsills and the threshold of the door. It wouldn’t hold up forever, especially if Lilith decided to come after you herself, but it was better than nothing.

The faint sound of footsteps outside the building sent a chill down your spine. You froze, your hand instinctively going to the scissors you’d tucked into your waistband. They weren’t close—yet—but you could hear them, the steady crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional murmur of low voices. The townspeople. Or… whatever they were. You’d heard them last night, too, their footsteps echoing through the schoolyard as they searched for you. They’d come so close to the building that you’d barely dared to breathe, afraid they’d hear you.

The faint light of dawn creeping through the window offered little solace. You didn’t know if it was enough to keep Lilith at bay. If she wanted you badly enough, the salt wouldn’t matter. But for now, you had to hope that your makeshift defenses would hold. You pulled the scissors from your waistband, gripping them tightly as you pressed your back against the wall, listening to the sounds outside. You were going to die here, you thought. And Bobby, Oh Bobby would blame himself.

What about Sam and Dean? You hadn’t even said goodbye to them. The thought twisted in your chest like a knife, sharp and cruel. And now, here you were—hurt, bleeding, hiding in an abandoned school—about to die because you’d been too damn stubborn, too caught up in proving yourself.

No. You shook your head sharply, banishing the thought before it could take root.

I am not going to die here.

You took a shaky breath, pressing your palm harder against the wound on your side as if the pressure alone could hold you together. I will live. I’ll see Bobby again and hug him so hard he’ll call me an idjit. I’ll laugh at Dean’s stupid jokes again, and when I see Sam, I…

Your thoughts faltered. What would you do? What would you even say?

The memory of his face surfaced—those warm, haunted eyes that always seemed to carry the weight of the world. Would he even care? Would he even look at you the same way? You didn’t know. But there was no time to dwell on that now.

Movement caught your eye. You pressed your back flush against the cold wall, your breathing shallow as you stared at the stained glass window across the room. Shadows moved on the other side, their distorted silhouettes flickering against the colorful panes. They were there.

The tapping started—a slow, deliberate sound that sent shivers down your spine. Fingernails, or maybe claws, scratching at the glass, testing it. They were looking for a way in.

Your grip tightened around the scissors in your hand, the dull metal pressing against your palm. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. Your gaze darted to the devil’s trap on the floor, the salt lines around the windows and door. You’d done everything you could to fortify this room, but was it enough?

The tapping grew louder, more insistent. Then came the whispers—low, guttural murmurs that didn’t sound quite human. They were speaking, but the words didn’t make sense, like a language that didn’t belong in this world.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound deafening in the otherwise silent room. You forced yourself to stay still, to stay quiet, even as every instinct screamed at you to run.

But where would you go?

The shadows grew darker, the tapping more frantic. Then, suddenly, the whispers stopped. The silence was worse. It stretched on, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

And then, a voice—soft, childish, and chilling.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Your blood turned to ice. You knew that voice. It was hers.

Lilith.

You gripped the scissors tighter, your breath catching in your throat. The tapping resumed, but now it was coming from multiple windows, surrounding you.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to focus. You weren’t going to panic. Not now. You had to think. There’s always a way out. Always.

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything you could use. The door was barricaded, but if they broke the windows, you wouldn’t have much time. The second they got in, it was over.

What would Bobby do? What would Sam and Dean do?

What would you do?

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. If this was the end, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You stared at the flickering shadows, your mind racing. Panic clawed at the edges of your thoughts, but you shoved it back, locking it behind a wall of sheer determination. Think. Think. Running wasn’t an option—not yet. They’d catch you before you even reached the hallway. You needed a plan. A distraction.

Your gaze swept over the room, cataloging every detail, every possible tool. The barricaded door. The salt lines. The devil’s trap scrawled on the floor. The scavenged supplies—a few candles, some chalk, and a rusty old fire extinguisher. An air vent. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. Your eyes landed on the ancient metal trash can in the corner, and an idea began to take shape—reckless and desperate, but it might just work.

Crouching low to stay out of sight, you moved quickly and quietly. The fire extinguisher was the first thing you grabbed, dragging it to the trash can. You shrugged out of your jacket, wincing as the movement pulled at the wound on your arm, and stuffed it inside. Matches from a supply closet went next, the flame sparking to life in your shaking fingers before catching on the fabric. Smoke began curling upward, thick and acrid.

Grabbing a piece of cardboard to control the airflow, you moved to the windows, dumping salt along the ledges and whispering a hurried exorcism ritual you’d memorized from Bobby. Would it be enough to hold? Probably not, but it was all you had.

The smoke was spreading now, seeping out through the cracks around the windows and door. It wouldn’t drive the demons off, but it might obscure their vision enough for you to get away.

Then your eyes flicked to the ceiling—a rusted air vent, partially concealed by a row of cabinets. Your heart thudded. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a way out.

The tapping at the windows grew louder. A voice followed, soft and singsong, with an edge that made your blood run cold.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Lilith’s voice cooed, childlike and cruel. She was in the hallway.

You didn’t look at the windows. You didn’t have time. Moving quickly, you dragged a desk beneath the vent, ignoring the searing pain in your arm. You hauled yourself up, biting back a gasp as the motion jarred your wound, and wrenched the vent cover loose with fire extinguisher, breaking off the screws. It screeched as it gave way, and you froze, the sound cutting through the room like a siren.

Outside, the tapping stopped.

You moved faster, shoving the cover aside and scrambling into the vent. The narrow space closed around you, dark and stifling. Sweat trickled down your back as you pulled the cover into place behind you, muffling the sound as best you could.

The fire below crackled, smoke filling the room. You could hear the demons outside, their muffled voices rising in confusion. Then, with a crash, the window shattered. You heard them pour inside, heavy footsteps as they tried stomping over the salt line.

The vent was tight, your movements slow and awkward. Every shift of your body sent a metallic groan reverberating through the duct, but you kept going, forcing yourself to crawl forward. The smoke was creeping up, the acrid smell stinging your eyes and throat.

From your cramped hiding spot, you could hear them fill that room, it echoed down the metal tube. “Do you like nursery rhymes?” she said, her voice echoing in the silence.

"I think I'll sing you one"

You held your breath, the weight of her presence pressing against your chest like a physical force. The fire crackled louder, and you could hear the scrape of furniture being moved, the demons tearing apart the room in search of you.

And then, silence.

You didn’t dare move. Every muscle in your body was coiled tight, your breath coming in shallow, quiet gasps.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost sweet. And she didn't speak, really, she hummed something.

You heard the scrape of her shoes against the floor, the sound growing fainter as she moved away. The demons’ voices followed, their footsteps retreating into the hallway. The smoke had done its job, disorienting them just enough to mask your escape.

You waited, counting the seconds in your head. Five. Ten. Fifteen. The air in the vent was stifling, your lungs burning with the effort of staying silent, the smoke had now entered the vent, making it hard to breath or see.

Finally, when the only sound was the distant hum of the fire below, you started moving again. Your fingers scraped against the metal, your breaths shallow as you crawled toward the faint light spilling through a vent cover ahead.

When you reached it, you pressed your face to the slats, peering out into the darkness. You took a breath; The hallway was empty. Quiet. But you knew better than to trust it.

You pushed the cover loose, sliding it aside as carefully as you could, and dropped down into the shadows. The school was a labyrinth, the hallways twisting and turning in a way that made it impossible to orient yourself.

But you had to keep moving.

You slipped into the darkness, your steps silent, your breathing steady. You didn’t know where you were going, but one thought kept you moving forward: You weren’t going to die here

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

As they turned the corner, the faint tendrils of smoke curling into the sky caught Sam’s attention first. He stopped mid-stride, his brow furrowing. “Dean,” he said, pointing toward the plume. It was coming from the direction of the old school.

Dean’s head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he followed Sam’s gesture. “That’s not good,” he muttered, already picking up the pace toward the smoke.

Sam jogged after him, his heart pounding. His mind was racing with possibilities. What if it was you? What if you were in there? The smoke wasn’t thick enough for a full-blown fire—yet—but it was enough to make his chest tighten with dread. And then he caught something else. A faint, sickly-sweet scent that made his stomach churn.

He slowed for half a second, his brow furrowing as the scent grew stronger. It was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He’d smelled it earlier in the town, faint and fleeting, but now it was unmistakable. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut: demon blood.

His stomach twisted, the craving clawing its way up his throat before he could shove it back down. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the smoke ahead instead of the nauseating pull of temptation.

As they approached the edge of the schoolyard, a figure stepped out from behind one of the houses. It was one of the older women they’d seen earlier, her neat apron and floral dress a sharp contrast to the chaos hinted at by the smoke. She waved at them, her smile bright and disarming.

“Well, hello there,” she called, her tone syrupy sweet. “You boys lost? It’s not safe to go near that old school. There's a small fire”

Dean slowed, his hand instinctively reaching for the pistol tucked into his jacket. “Thanks for the warning, ma’am,” he said, his voice clipped, but he didn’t stop walking.

“Oh, no, no, no.” The woman’s voice turned sharper, her steps quickening to block their path. “I insist. You really shouldn’t be here.” Her smile widened unnaturally, her eyes almost too bright.

Dean stopped dead, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Sam, whose face was pale, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his back. Dean frowned, noticing the slight tremor in Sam’s hand as he rubbed the back of his neck. The sweat, the shaking—it wasn’t just the heat or exhaustion.

Sam didn’t meet his brother’s gaze, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag as the scent hit him again, sharper this time. Demon blood. It was clinging to the woman, faint but present, like she’d bathed in it. His stomach churned again, and he forced himself to swallow the rising nausea.

Before Dean could speak, the woman’s smile faltered, and her expression twisted into something darker. Her head tilted slightly, her teeth flashing in a grin that was far too wide.

Sam tensed, his hand going for the knife tucked into his belt.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, boys,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, the saccharine sweetness replaced by a low, menacing tone. And then her eyes turned black.

“Demon!” Dean growled, pulling his gun in a flash. The woman lunged, unnaturally fast, her fingers clawing at him. Dean fired a salt round straight into her chest, sending her stumbling back with a shriek.

Sam rushed forward, grabbing her arm before she could recover, and slammed her into the side of a tree. He whipped out a flask of holy water, splashing it across her face. Smoke hissed and rose as she screamed, writhing against his grip.

“Where is she?” Sam snarled, his voice ragged and trembling. “Where’s the girl?”

The demon just laughed, the sound guttural and mocking. “What girl?” she hissed, her black eyes narrowing. “We have so many here”

Dean strode up, his blade gleaming in the sunlight as he pressed it to her throat. ““Speak, Grandma—use your words. Or I'm going about to go full Bundy on your ass"

But before they could get another word out of her, the demon’s eyes rolled back, and her body slumped, lifeless.

“Damn it!” Dean hissed, shoving the corpse aside. “This place is crawling with them.”

Sam wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, his fingers still trembling as he shoved the flask back into his pocket. That scent was still lingering in the air, faint but pervasive, making his skin crawl.

“We need to get to that school. Now,” he said, his voice tight.

Dean didn’t argue. They took off running toward the smoke, weaving between the rows of dilapidated houses and across the overgrown schoolyard. The closer they got, the thicker the smoke became, its acrid scent stinging their noses. Sam could barely focus on anything other than the pounding in his chest and the way the demon blood seemed to hang in the air, taunting him.

The school loomed ahead, its windows shattered and its exterior weathered with age. Smoke curled out from one of the lower floors, the faint flicker of firelight visible through the broken glass.

Dean’s grip on his gun tightened as they approached the door. “Alright, Sammy. Let’s find her and get the hell out of here.”

A horde of black eyes were headed their way.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The fluorescent lights above flickered erratically, casting long, jittering shadows across the hallway walls. Your breathing was ragged, every inhale dragging through the sharp pain in your chest. Blood seeped through your shirt, leaving a dark trail on the scuffed tile floor behind you—a trail you knew she could follow.

Lilith’s voice echoed softly down the corridor, calm and melodic, chilling in its childish cheer. She was humming a tune, something eerily familiar but twisted, like a nursery rhyme gone wrong. Her footsteps were slow and deliberate, the sharp click of her shoes on the tile sending shivers down your spine.

You glanced over your shoulder, but the hallway stretched empty behind you, the hum growing louder, closer. Your legs felt like lead, every step a struggle, but you pushed forward, turning down another corridor, your hands brushing against the cold, peeling walls as you stumbled. You'd been bleeding, a lot.

The school was a maze. Every hallway looked the same—endless doors, broken lockers, and darkness that seemed to creep in from the edges. You couldn’t find the exit. All of the rooms were locked, Panic clawed at your throat, but you forced it down, focusing on the sound of your boots against the floor.

“Are you tired yet?” Lilith’s voice rang out, echoing in the empty space. She sounded almost amused, like a child playing hide-and-seek. Ring a ring a Rosie She began so sing again, sweetly.

You didn’t answer, biting back the scream that threatened to rise. Your hands were slick with blood, your vision blurred from exhaustion. You turned another corner, and that’s when you saw it: the door to the swimming pool. It's open.

You pushed it open with what little strength you had left, stumbling into the vast, cavernous room. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the faint scent of mildew. The pool itself was massive, its tiled depths empty and cracked, while a towering wall of glass stood on one side of the room, stretching from floor to ceiling. Through it, you could see the schoolyard outside, the faint glow of streetlights filtering in.

Your gaze darted around the space, searching for something—anything—that could help you. But the room was barren save for a few scattered chairs and broken tiles.

You needed time.

Ashes, ashes. They all fall down

Behind you, the door creaked open, and Lilith’s silhouette appeared in the frame. Her pristine white dress swayed as she stepped inside, her shoes padding softly against the tiled floor.

“Hide and seek,” she said brightly, clapping her hands together. “That’s what we’re playing, right? I’m really good at it, you know.”

You staggered back, your grip tightening around a chair you’d grabbed earlier. Your knees buckled slightly, the blood loss making your head swim, but you refused to let yourself fall. Not yet.

Lilith tilted her head, her expression innocent but her eyes glinting with something dark and monstrous. “But you’re not playing fair,” she said, her voice dipping into a childish whine. “You keep running away. Don’t you want to have fun with me?”

She took another step forward, her smile widening. “I promise, it won’t hurt for long. Just a little bit. And then we can be best friends forever!”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you backed toward the pool, your gaze flicking to the glass wall. Maybe—just maybe—you could break it and get outside.

“Stay back!” you warned, your voice hoarse, as you lifted the chair, holding it between you and her.

Lilith’s giggle echoed through the room, sweet and sinister. “Oh, look at you” she cooed, her tone dripping with mock affection.

You turned and hurled the chair at the glass with every ounce of strength you had left. The impact sent a dull thud reverberating through the room, but the glass didn’t even crack. Desperation clawed at you as you grabbed another piece of debris and swung it at the glass, again and again, each strike more frantic than the last.

Nothing. Not even a scratch.

“Uh-oh,” Lilith teased, her voice sing-song as she stepped closer.

You turned back to face her, your chest heaving, your vision growing hazier by the second. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of the room blurring as exhaustion and blood loss dragged you down.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-" You chant. Your back pressed against the glass, gripping the edge of a railing for balance as your legs threatened to give out.

Lilith stopped at the edge of the pool, Laughing. “You’re not looking so good,” she said, her tone dripping with false concern. “Maybe you should lie down”

"omnis legio, omnis congregatio et-" It's not working.

Your fingers fumbled at your belt, pulling out the scissors you had. You didn’t have the strength for much, but you weren’t going to make this easy for her. If this was your last stand, then so be it.

"Ergo, draco maledicte, ecclesiam-"

A gunshot rang in your ears. And that’s when your eyes caught movement at the window. You frown, maybe your blood loss had finally reached the level of hallucinations.

Sam. Dean?

Outside the glass, through the harsh fluorescent glare, Sam and Dean were there. They were fighting—tearing through a horde of demons with a ferocity you’d never seen before. Dean’s movements were sharp and efficient, his blade flashing in the dim light as he fought with all the reckless determination you knew so well.

But it was Sam who stopped you cold.

He was covered in blood—too much blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was his or theirs. His face was twisted with something raw and desperate, his swings more brutal, more ruthless than you’d ever seen. He fought like a man possessed.

And then his eyes locked on yours. You couldn't help the beat of relief inside you.

The noise and chaos around you faded for a moment, drowned out by the pounding of your own heart as you stared at each other. His lips moved, shouting something, but the sound didn’t reach you through the thick pane of glass. His face twisted with frustration as he slammed his fists against the unyielding surface, trying to break through, trying to reach you.

They can't get to you.

You hand grips your makeshift weapon tighter as you heard her shoes come to a halt. You didn't look at her, only them.

You let out a soft, defeated smile, the kind that said, It's okay without words. You didn’t have the strength to shout back, didn’t have the breath to explain or reassure him. All you could do was stand there, bleeding and tired, and hope he’d understand.

Lilith tilted her head, noticing your gaze and following it to the scene outside. Her face lit up with delight, her hands clasping together like she’d been given a gift. “Oh, how sweet,” she cooed. “We have an audience.”

She stepped closer, her shoes making clicking sounds against the tile as she approached. The sound of Sam and Dean’s shouts grew louder as they slammed against the glass, desperate to break through.

You heard the creak of Bobby’s porch swing, the faint clink of his glass bottle resting on the rail, the wood groaning softly under his weight.

You could see Dean hacking at the surface with his blade, his jaw tight with frustration. Sam was yelling something, his voice hoarse and frantic, but the words were lost to you.

You smelled the faintest hint of old paper and ink, Sam’s hand resting on a dusty lore book between you. The bitter taste of coffee lingered in your throat.

The lights above you started to flicker, you could feel the heat of her presence, the suffocating weight of her power pressing down on you as she reached out, her hand stopping just shy of your face.

You felt the weight of Dean’s jacket draped over your shoulders, heavy and warm against the night’s chill. His hand had lingered for just a moment after settling it around you..

“Thank you for this” Lilith murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You don't know how helpful you've been”

The glass behind you shook violently, the sound of impact reverberating through the room as Sam and Dean threw everything, they had at it. You glanced over your shoulder, your vision blurring, and saw Sam scream something, his face contorted with anguish as he pounded against the glass. You were so tired. Your grip slackened on the scissors as you started to slide down the wall. You were to weak.

You felt the sting of warmth on your cheeks, sunlight filtering through Bobby’s kitchen window as he handed you a plate of pancakes. “Eat up,” he’d grumbled, though his voice held that familiar undercurrent of care.

And then, in a flash of blinding white light, the room shifted.

You saw the soft glow of the Impala’s headlights cutting through the dark as it pulled into Bobby’s yard, Sam and Dean leaning against the hood, their laughter quiet but warm, a sound that felt like home.

The demons outside cried out as a new presence descended, their forms disintegrating into smoke and ash under the sheer force of its power. You blinked against the brilliance, barely able to process what was happening as the heavy thud of something filled the air.

Lilith’s smile faltered for the first time, her white eyes narrowing as she turned toward the source of the light. A silhouette.

Castiel? The last of your strength slipping away as the adrenaline burned out of your system. The world tilted dangerously, and you felt your knees buckle beneath you.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

AN: Yeah... Don't kill me. I feel severely disturbed at how fast I wrote this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed guys. Feedback is always welcome

Tag list:

@youdontknowe @theamuz  @mysteryenchatress @craycraycraic @craycraycraic @variant-zee @ur2moms @ambiguous-avery @steviespookie @s0urw00lf @bewr0210 @mostlymarvelgirl @dear-bambi2 @yeehawgiddyup13

[lady-ace]

Mitosis

(set in an AU where Mary and Freddy are both small in their champion form, and Billy doesn't work for Whiz yet.)

Almost everyone knew the marvels. The magical sunny trio, who always seemed joined at the hip. Where one went, the other two were never too far behind.

Of course, with Captain Marvel being the oldest and looking very similar to the other two (Black hair, blue eyes, you get the idea) everyone thought the same thing; “Cap is the father of Mary Marvel and Captain Marvel Jr. Come on, it's even in the name!”

No one, from the public or the superhero community ever brought it up with them, because 'Well, it's obvious!'

..And then the Captain told them they were completely wrong.

/ / /

Superman, while in a casual conversation with the other leaguers, refers to Marvel Jr. As Captain Marvel's son.

Cap, who happened to overhear: “Son? Jr is my older brother.”

[Shocked pause]

GA, gobsmacked: “Why is he called Jr then?”

Cap, a little taken aback by the apparent shock this was to the others: “Well, to be honest, when Jr was coming up with a name, i suggested Jr, because he was smaller than me, and the name stuck.”

GA, still blue screening the fact that Jr was not Cap's son: “Wow.”

GL, waving his hands frantically to accentuate his point: “Are we just gonna pass over the fact Cap just said Jr was older than him?”

Plastic man, jokingly: “Next he's gonna tell us Mary Marvel isn't his daughter either.”

[Cap shoots Plas a look, and before he can speak up, Plastic man continues, his joking tone nowhere to be seen, now in it's place, an almost disbelieving one.]

Plastic man, incredulous: “Oh my God, you are.”

Cap, nodding in agreement: “She's my twin.

[Que various noises of surprise all around the table.]

/ / /

After a few days of Marvel trying to clear up the misunderstanding, it was quite clear a lot of the leaguers simply didn't believe him. Either chalking it up to magic shenanigans or just really doubting he could be younger than Freddy, even though it was so apparent he 'wasn't.'

So, they decided to pull a prank.

With the help of a spell, he aged his Champion form down to the age of his siblings, and dressed up as Mary.

They couldn't wait to see their faces when they saw not one, but two 'Mary Marvels' flying around the watchtower.

After all, they were twins. And what better way to prove it than the classic twin switch-up?

/ / /

Flash, rubbing his eyes before looking again: “I'm not seeing things, am i? Please tell me i've not gone crazy.”

WW, shaking her head: “No. You are seeing things correctly. There's two of our friend present.”

Flash, now a bit worried: “Has Mary been cloned, or is being followed by a doppelganger?”

WW, tilting her head a bit, trying to remember something: “Not that i recall. Maybe you could ask her about it? She doesn't seem concerned about the 'clone'.”

Flash, slapping his forehead in a 'why didn't i do that earlier?' way: “Good idea.”

[Flash goes over to the two Marys (Maries?). When he arrives, one of them beams.]

Billy: “Hi, Flash! How are you doing?”

Flash: “Good! Well, i've been meaning to ask you.. uh, something.”

Mary, grinning: “Well, go ahead.”

Flash, a bit too bluntly: “Why are there two of you?”

Billy, with the most cheerful voice ever: “Mitosis!”

Flash: “Mitosis?!”

Mary, saying this as if it was the most obvious thing: “Why do you think there's only one big Marvel, and the rest of us are small? We separated from the captain recently.”

Billy, holding in a laugh: “But keep it secret, okay? Me and the others trust you to never tell anyone our secret.”

Flash, who is like 'WTF did i just hear': “Uhh.. sure. I won't tell anyone.”

[The two proceed to tell everyone the supposed 'Secret.' Only years later the League would find out it was a prank, when Billy and Mary showed them their civillian forms. They still use the 'Mitosis' as a inside joke when a new member joins the League.]

[nikaandtea]

poolverine hcs!!

as i wait for art block to pass, take some poolverine brainrot because i need an outlet!

slight cw for mentions of vomiting, panic attacks, and a bit of stabbing.

The first night that Logan stayed at the apartment he insisted to both Wade and Al that he wouldn't be there longer than a week. Wade kept trying to buy him a toothbrush, assign him a towel, and even got him a separate razor. Logan was stubborn, and kept standing his ground on the fact he was about to move out soon anyway. But then Logan starts restocking household items after he started doing jobs with the TMA. Wade noticed that the fridge was almost never empty, and the laundry detergent hasn't run out in months. Logan started looking after Mary as well, and always denied any sort of attachment to the dog. One day, Wade notices the third toothbrush in the sink (which was usually the flimsy travel ones) changed to a regular one.

Wade is really physically affectionate, and that is not news. Logan isn't, and when Wade can't take the hint he gets a stab to the forearm. At one point, he actually does stop. Just for a day, Wade is too preoccupied with his own thoughts to nag Logan like he usually would in the morning. Logan notices. Logan notices, and misses the rush he felt when Wade would try and hop on his back while Logan was looking inside the fridge, or the taze into his side because Wade fucked around and learned the Wolverine was ticklish. So when Wade is reading something on his phone, ignoring all his surroundings on the couch Logan sits down. He sits down and presses their knees together. Wade initially flinches and opens his mouth for a snarky remark, which is cut short by Logan impaling him in the thigh. Mixed signals.

Logan regularly has nightmares about the X-men dying in his universe. He wakes up in a cold sweat and a racing heart from the images his brain forces to replay. Usually he walks about the dark living room and waits for a bit until he feels the panic subside. Sometimes he gets a drink from the kitchen and lets the buzz help him fall back into sleep. One of these nights just as he recovers, Mary bumps into his leg. Knowing she usually sleeps with Wade, Logan looks up from the floor as he sat on the couch, his breaths shallow and uneven. Wade doesn't question him, he gets Logan water and just sits next to him. Wade touched Logan plenty, uncalled for and vise versa. But Logan never forgets the long forgotten bloom in his chest that formed when Wade cautiously wrapped and arm around Logan.

Wade for sure has eaten a dishwasher tablet 'for science'. Logan watched him go through all stages of grief as he spit it out, tried to rinse it, foamed the chemicals further, and inevitably vomited. Logan made fun of him for a week and then made a deal with Wade to switch to powdered detergent.

Mary likes Logan better, you can't keep her away. Wade is jealous, and Logan knows it.

The apartment gets really cold in the winter. Al always gets to the only warm blanket before Wade ever can, and Logan didn't realize there is such an issue in the first place. Of course, he finds out in the middle of the night just as Wade begins to drag various throw blankets into his room. Logan and him bicker, before agreeing to go get more in the morning and tough it out for the night. Logan curses the shitty futon he sleeps on and bites down his ego. Wade is under at least five layers before Logan pushes him to the edge of the bed, climbing underneath the small pile with a slight shiver from the cold. Wade begins to crack jokes about how they are sleeping together, and Logan needs Wade, all of which Logan glares at him for before putting a pillow over his ears. Wade does end up falling silent, and wiggling up against Logan's back. He allows it, this once. Only because Wade is warm.

okay that's all they are the WORST.

[softfem-dom]

hi!! Could you do a Deadpool x Reader, where Wade walks in on reader self h4rming? (It's completely okay if not! Do wtv makes you comfortable :D) Lots of comfort, and fluff please!!

not paper

deadpoolxgnreader

a/n : why of course I can sweetheart! <33 I'm totally comfortable with writting about this in case anyone wants to send in a req like this one

wc : 1.4k

S4LF H4RM TW! , SH DESCRIPTION , FLUFF COMFORT , PLATONIC! . soft!deadpool . post d&w!deadpool . r lives with deadpool and wolverine.

The feeling of being a stranger in your own body wasn't new to you. No, it was a recurring —excruciating— ache that settled deep within your bones, bones that didn't feel yours.

Ever since you had been sent to the void things had taken a darker turn. You were young, and now all of your dreams for life were long-gone and destroyed because of the desertic setting that you had been teleported to by the TVA.

You had stopped wondering why they had sent you here a very long time ago. Simply focused on surviving Cassandra and her strange smoke-y pet.

Or that was until two strangers, one Deadpool —another one— and one Wolverine had been teleported. You had found them in a blood-covered and distroyed Honda Oddyssey that looked way too similar to Nicepool's car.

Well, in summary, those two dudes had managed to get themselves and you out of that horrible cage for failed attempts at characters that nobody remembered anymore.

That was what your mind focused on most days. You had been sent to the void because nobody remembered you anymore, because nobody loved you enough for your departure to be significant, because you didn't raise the numbers, simply because you weren't important enough.

You sometimes wished you had been a teen idle. Would they have remembered you if you had gotten the prom queen title?

Wasn't youth supposed to be beautiful?

You were living with Wade, Logan and Mary Puppins in Blind Al's appartment. Had been living with them for a while, but it maybe was the first time you had been truly alone in here.

Blind Al had bingo night, Logan was off drinking in the bar down the street, and Wade was walking Dogpool. You were alone.

You didn't like the silence that had settled on the lived-in appartment. Didn't like how still everything was. How everything had it's place in the appartment yet it felt as if you were just a piece of a different puzzle kept in the same box.

You were very conscious of your heartbeat —feeling each thump against your ribs. You could feel the way it's rythmic started to sped up little by little for the longer you stayed in silence.

You recognised the dull feeling starting to claw low at your gut, creeping up until it got a grip of your stomach —almost making you feel queasy. Until it reached your heart.

And squeezed.

And with that you were back with the same energy buzzing low beneath your skin, with your brain slowly starting to whisper things —harmful things. In your ear.

You were sitting on the couch, facing the TV yet there was no show on. The screen as black as the void starting to grow within you.

Your eyes dipped low to the exposed skin of your legs, there were a few fading purple bruises on your skin —like accidental splatters of paint on an empty canvas. You had managed to pass them as accidental bumps against furniture, nobody had pondered if the hits had been pruposeful.

And at that you were suddenly on your feet, driven by an anxiety that didn't quite seem fitting or yours. As if something bad would happen if you didn't do as your brain was telling you to.

Nobody was home. It was okay. Nobody was home. Nobody would see. It would be okay.

Before you even knew what you were doing, processing what you were doing, your hand was around the handle of the kitchen uttilery drawer. You pulled, the clinking sound of metal from spoons and forks sounding distant —as if underwater.

Then, you were sitting on the floor, back against the kitchen table and knife in your hands. You traced the sharp blade against your skin, not quite cutting yet, the cold making gosebumps grow on your skin.

And then you sliced.

You could feel the stinging of your skin breaking under the blade, but you didn't care. It was a need to do it, you didn't even stop when the metallic scent of blood whafted into your nostrils, nor when the red started to taint your skin.

Your hands were shaking. You were shaking. Driven by an anxiety that wasn't quite real, feeling trapped in a body that wasn't quite yours, feeling the pain that didn't feel real enough.

You just stopped when you heard a startled gasp from behind you.

Just like that the knife —bloodstained. Was on the floor, the clinking sound echoing in the kitchen. Eyes wide and head snaping to see who it was at the door.

Being met with Wade standing there, still with his Deadpool suit on, staring right at you with the white in his mask's eyes wide.

The man saw the way your hand reached behind you, finding support on the cold floor, and he catched onto the clear signal that you were about to flee.

"hey—hey hey, no. None of that, no." his voice was firm, stern, acting in control even if he didn't have a fucking clue on what was going on. "oh god, does the writer want me to have a heart attack or something? gezz-"

He muttered some words under his breath as he quickly tugged off his red mask, walking over to where you were sitting and crouching right infront of you with a strained smile. Talking to you right now was going to be like talking to stray dog, right?

"okay, give me the knife, pumpkin', c'mon"

He stretched out his palm, making a grabing motion for visual, as he stared at you expectingly. You were far too confused and equally scared of his reaction to protest right now, so you simply reached for the bloody knife and placed it on his open palm with shaky hands. "alright, good, very good" he hummed.

Then, he was uncrouching for a small second to place the knife on top of the table before crouching down and this time actually sitting next to you on the floor.

"now, c'mere sweetums" he whispered before he opened his arms and pulled you into a hug. His gloved hand on the back of your head, fully enveloping you with his body.

When his warmth surrounded you, it was as if that stupid fog that had been clouding your mind all day —that numbness— had dissipated, and you felt yourself choking on a sob before starting to cry in his arms.

He held you all the way through, craddling you and whispering gentle praises in your ear. His voice was softer than usual, gentler, and without a single sexual innuendo.

It was odd for him to be like that. But it was also odd for you to have acted the way you did and that had worried him sick.

Your tears slowly dried up, sobs quieting down into soft sniffles, when you felt the warmth from his breath puffing against your forehead. It was a fleeting second, you looking up with your teary eyes and being met with his brown eyes, before he was pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. 'The writter is so gonna have to make me a real ass in the next fanfic to compensate this' he thought to himself.

Once you had calmed down, he gently moved your face out of his chest. Hushing and sushing you when you let out a little distressed noise at the separation.

His hand settled for staying tangled in your hair, his thumb gently rubbing circles under your eye —wiping away the tears. Before he spoke.

"you calm now, cupcake?" he whispered, breathed out, softly. He didn't know what had driven you into self-harming so actively, but he wasn't about to trigger anything by speaking in a loud voice right now.

At your little nod and "uh-huh" he noded his head and sighed in relief before smacking another kiss on your forehead.

"alright babybird, up you go" he huffed out, voice straining in the last three words by the effort of picking you up into his arms. "we're gonna clean those boo-boos, yeah?"

When the little baby-voice he put on got a small chuckle out of you, he finally smiled for the first time since he had walked into the appartment to the tacky smell of blood.

"hey, kid"

"yeah?"

Once he had set you down in the bathroom, wet rag tenderly wiping away the blood in your raw and damaged skin, he dared to speak again.

"your skin's not paper, so let's not cut it, 'kay?