#this demented series together

[the-starry-lycan]

@superrainbow06 I love Nyan Neko Sugar Girls..

..Knowing, now, that you’ve watched it,, it’s time to break out the screenshots >:3 because NNSG is so demented and incredible and I love it ahahaha

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVIII

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER/violence/kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

What had once been a great fear of yours had turned into something akin to a comfort.

The basement was a lot of things—dark, isolating, and creepy to name a few—but in the weeks that you’d been exiled to it’s suffocating walls, you slowly found solace in being left with nothing but your solitude and your thoughts. At least it felt that way. In truth, you didn’t feel much of anything at all and had grown content in that feeling.

Or lack thereof.

The days blended together until it was one long endless stretch of darkness, and it gave you so much time to think. You thought about every decision that had landed you here, all the way from your first conscious memory to that fateful day when you and your friends stopped in some seemingly unassuming town for food. If you thought about it too hard, you could feel a chill creeping over your still form.

Lingering on the day your friends were murdered threatened to put you back in that headspace you’d been in when you were first brought to this house. Your breathing would become shallow at the memory of your erratic emotions and your inability to hold your bodily fluids and the time you’d nearly lost your mind at the mere sight of blood.

You had quite literally lost your mind.

You’d been driven insane by the abuse you’d suffered and had been forced to witness, mind shattering and falling apart from the actions of the same person tasked with putting it back together in whatever manner benefited him. Peter had torn you down and built you back up like some demented caregiver and despite the fact that you knew this—recognized this—you were essentially powerless to do anything about it.

You were in too deep, this was your life now, and such a thought was both comforting and suffocating. On the one hand, you knew what was in store for you. The rest of your days were laid out before you so meticulously, a breakdown of what every single day would be like for the rest of your life. In a way…it was relieving to think that you’d never have to expend any more effort into planning a single thing about your life ever again.

…but in the same breath, that was so tragic.

The excitement of possibilities and opportunities was something you’d never feel again. You’d never have that wonder about what the next day or month or even year would bring. You briefly recalled fleeting thoughts of grad school once and possibly living abroad for a while. Peter would never allow that, and even if he wanted to, Steve would never allow him to even consider the thought.

This was your life now.

Such a simple sentence brought on far too many emotions for you to handle, and so you didn’t. Handle them, that is. You didn’t feel anything and it didn’t just start and end with the complexities of your heart. You didn’t feel the pillow beneath your head nor the thin sheets over your frame. You didn’t even feel the shift in the room when someone—no doubt Margaret or Christine—opened the door and descended the stairs to bring you food.

Surely you ate.

You were still alive, after all, but you didn’t recall eating. Truth be told, you didn’t even recall bathing or using the bathroom. If you thought long and hard about it—struggling with your memory so much that it made you frown in the darkness—you could recollect brief flashes of memories that painted a picture.

Sharon’s worried face before you as she held some orange juice in front of your face, Margaret standing in front of you in the bathroom, tone pleading as she encouraged you to empty your bladder, and even Tony and Pepper standing over your bed as Pepper said something to him, her stricken expression clear even in hazy memories.

The days and everything that happened in them blended together so seamlessly that it all started to feel like a dream. How funny it was that you once feared the basement so much it was enough to give you a panic attack, and now that you were down here you felt the calmest you’d ever felt in months. You felt unreal—untouchable even in a way—and it wasn’t long before you forgot that this wasn’t meant to be forever.

You forgot that a day would come where Peter would come down—likely with Steve in tow—and tell you that your punishment was over and you could finally rejoin him amongst the world above ground. You didn’t know how you felt about that, and you found yourself wondering if you even wanted that.

Of course, you wanted that.

You couldn’t live in darkness and solitude forever, but stepping out of this room meant going back to the problems the basement currently shielded you from. When you stepped through that threshold again, Steve and Bucky and all of the other husbands would likely still be upset with you with the mentioned being more cross than the others. You would have to step back into an atmosphere where you weren’t trusted—again—and you’d have to earn it all back…again.

You supposed you still had friends in the wives, but who was to say. Yes, you’d remained silent when you witnessed Nat escape, but you had a feeling that someone like Margaret likely wouldn’t agree with what you did. You recalled a conversation you had with her once about the needs and sanctity of the house coming first. Allowing one of the wives to escape and possibly ruin everything wasn’t exactly in line with that.

Nat didn’t seem upset with you, at all the last time you saw her, but you didn’t truly know verbatim what Peter had said to Bucky to get him to take her out of the basement. Sure, he could’ve insinuated that keeping her down here and punishing her in a harsh manner after they’d been trying for a baby wasn’t smart, but he also could have flat out said to him that according to you, Nat thinks she's pregnant.

You only wanted to save her, and while you liked to think she’d understand if she knew you told Peter, you also weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of a lot of things anymore, and your uncertainty about so much—the result of whatever truth you thought you were living being turned upside down—made you retreat into yourself even more.

“Y/N, you need to eat something…”

The familiar voice faintly reached your ears, and as you slowly turned your head, you thought to yourself that you hadn’t even heard Margaret open the door and walk down the stairs. She was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite name, and it was only after some time did you register the weight in your lap.

Your gaze landed on a tray of food, and as appetizing as the toast and eggs and sausage looked, you had no desire to eat. You felt lucid for the first time in ages, and you slowly blinked before shaking your head. The words to tell her you weren’t hungry were on the tip of your tongue, but the redhead spoke before you could find your voice.

“You barely ate anything yesterday. And the day before…and the day before,” she breathed. “Steve wants to see an empty plate.”

You blinked again at that, and despite the fact that she was repeating Steve’s words, you could see her own concern in her eyes. You struggled to recall just how long you’d been down here and just how many plates you’d barely touched. You couldn’t recall, and despite the nagging at the back of your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to eat.

Even so, you and Margaret knew better than anyone how Steve could be, and so you slowly reached out for a piece of toast.

“I’ll eat,” was all you said.

She seemed relieved as she left you—albeit reluctantly—and you nibbled on the bread in your hand. The taste of it on your tongue made your stomach twist, and you put the rest of it back down without thinking. You had every intention of finishing it later, but once your food was set aside, all you wanted to do was sleep.

Your sleep wasn’t dreamless, and it rarely ever was. Sometimes you dreamt of your mom and your friends and your life before Peter took you for himself like some villain. Those dreams served nothing more than to torment you, and you often woke from them with tears in your eyes, vision blurry even in the darkness.

More often than not though, you dreamt of Peter and your life here. Sometimes it was awful nightmares about Steve—and even Bucky sometimes—where his handsome face was contorted in that perpetual frown it always seemed to be in when he laid eyes on you. Only it would be so much worse.

Your brain liked to conjure up visions of him where he was absolutely murderous, and it was no secret as to why. There’d been the brief moment here and there where you wondered if Steve would just say ‘to hell’ with all of his rules and get rid of you—in the most violent and dismissive fashion—and force Peter to find a sane wife. 

A better one.

That left a bitter taste in your mouth…and you hated it.

You liked to think that the thought of Peter with someone else only upset you because you didn’t think any woman deserved to be subjected to this. You liked to think that righteously and noble of yourself, but the truth was much more demented and depraved and twisted. No woman did deserve any of this, that was true, but the thought of Peter loving someone else made your stomach churn.

You could say it until you were blue in the face that this wasn’t love—it couldn’t be—but it didn’t change how you felt. You couldn’t fathom the thought of being tossed aside and replaced, and being replaced by someone better would only add insult to the injury. It wasn’t fair that they got to break you until there was hardly anything left only to cast you aside because they didn’t like the inevitable results of their choices.

The thought made you want to be sick.

Peter would never, and you knew without a doubt that he would never, but for all that he put you through, the least he could do was remain by your side and look after you forever. Something deep within you hated him so much for what he did—the dark-haired man worse than you initially thought him to be—but a larger part, the part that had been carefully put back together by him, only wanted him to show an endless display of apologies for the rest of your days.

You deserved that.

You deserved to be free, but that was never happening, and as it were, could you even function properly if you were allowed to walk off of this property tomorrow? Your mind didn’t work the way it did before you were brought here. It had been taken apart and scrambled and replaced with one that wasn’t your doing. You feared that you would never be able to function right again, and who would want you?

Who would want you besides Peter?

You were an abused, broken, and genuinely unwell mess…and Peter loved you for it…in his own way. You could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at you that the thought of losing you would send him over the edge, and you knew you felt the same, but you were sure it was for entirely different reasons. At this point in your life…what were you without Peter?

When you weren’t dreaming of your friends and family, and when you weren’t conjuring up nightmares of a familiar blond, you were dreaming about the man who put you into this mess. Sometimes you dreamt about who he actually was and in those dreams there was no doubt about his motives and his actions and you felt the appropriate fear when staring into his eyes.

…but more often than not you dreamt about the man he manipulated you into loving. You dreamed about welcoming him home from work and kissing him and touching him. You dreamed about the days where he simply held you as you cried, conveniently ignoring that he was the reason for your tears. In this house of horrors, Peter was your safe place, and you knew that was purposely done, but again, you felt powerless to do anything about it.

It shouldn’t be that way, but your only other choice was to spend the rest of your days in torment.

“She hasn’t eaten properly in weeks,” the soft words reached your ears, and you knew they weren’t meant for you.

There was a beat of silence, and as you were slowly gripped by consciousness, you took note of the smell of food. It didn’t tempt you, and you almost turned your head away.

“Do you think it’s because of Peter?”

Jane.

You absentmindedly wondered why she was down here and not resting. You hated to think that she’d come down here just to check in on you when she should’ve been looking after herself. You felt her hand on your head.

“She hasn’t seen him in a month…and we know how she—how they can get…”

You squeezed your eyes tight at that, heart aching for the first time in forever at those words. Had it been that long already? Had you really gone a month without seeing him, talking to him, touching him? Was that the cause of this…numbness? You were sure Peter wasn’t the only factor here, but you couldn’t deny that you missed him. You weren’t used to being without him, and this was the longest you’d ever gone without being with him since you first woke up in this house.

…but you knew that this was as much of a punishment for him as it was for you.

What if he didn’t miss you at all? What if you were in hell while each day only brought him more peace not having to be around the crazy one? That thought made your heart ache more, and for a brief moment, you never wanted to see him again.

“Steve only thinks it’s been a handful of times, but she’s not eating. At first, we weren’t too alarmed, especially considering…”

You placed Margaret’s voice now as she trailed off.

“...but then every tray just went basically untouched, and she’s lost a lot of weight. I think we need to tell Steve to contact Dr. Banner.”

You recalled a familiar face with glasses and dark hair.

“She doesn’t use the bathroom every day either. She mostly sleeps,” the redhead added.

“Have you mentioned this to Peter?”

“So he can come barging down here and start a whole other thing with Steve? They’ve only just settled back into being civil with one another. If Peter finds out she’s like this…”

Margaret scoffed, and you detected the unease in her tone.

You had never thought about the aftermath that followed your punishment and how it might have affected things upstairs. You had never thought to, you supposed. You had just assumed that Peter would fall in line with what Steve wanted as usual. After all, no matter how you felt about what you’d done, the household—or more importantly the husbands—did not agree. You’d broken their rules, and rules were rules.

It had never occurred to you that this whole ordeal—and you being at the center of it—might cause friction between Peter and Steve.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your name, and you were loathed to admit that it took so much of your strength to open your eyes. Jane was as pregnant as ever and glowing, and she gave you a small smile when your gazes met.

“Do you want to try eating something today?

Her tone was light, but you detected a hint of pleading.

Your gaze shifted, and you looked at the tray of food in Margaret’s hands. You eyed it, wanting to eat for their peace of mind if nothing else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You swallowed, and Jane must have seen the guilt and conflict in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she assured you. “You don’t have to.”

You didn’t miss Margaret’s look.

“We’ll leave it here, and you eat when you’re ready.”

She touched your face, and with a few lingering looks, they left you.

It wasn’t long before you dozed off again, but it wasn’t a deep sleep, and you drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt like no matter how much you slept, you just couldn’t shake the feeling of being exhausted. Exhausted, not tired. Your whole body seemed to ache, and you dreaded the moment you’d have to get up and shower.

The next time you were even halfway lucid, you felt a hand at your back and a spoon at your lips. On instinct, you turned your head away, but the person’s hand was firm.

“None of that. You need something on your stomach,” the voice was just as firm as the grip, and it was comfortingly familiar.

Your eyes widened a bit at the familiar face, and you unintentionally parted your lips, allowing her to give you a taste of broth. It took you by surprise, and you coughed a bit, but swallowed it nonetheless. Nat gave you another spoonful, and so in shock at her presence, you accepted it.

“Sharon’s supposed to be in my place…but…Steve and Bucky are at work,” she shrugged, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. “...and I had to see you.”

For the first time in a month or so, you felt…something. For a brief moment, your perpetual numbness had lifted, and you both spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

It was said by two different voices, but it echoed as one.

“You’re sorry…?” Confusion filled you. “Why are you sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and Nat looked so like you were unused to seeing her. She was normally so strong and fierce—a great source of envy for you—but now she looked sad…and regretful.

“You felt more obligated to protect me than yourself…and had I thought for a moment that you’d see me…I never would’ve left.”

Your shoulders fell at that, and you hated that Nat felt…guilty over your predicament. Your own choices had led you here, and that was what you told her after clearing your throat.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I thought the best thing that could happen was I’d get help and we’d all leave this place…and the worst was that I’d get dragged back,” she fed you more broth. “Not once had I considered that someone else would get dragged into my mess.”

You didn’t quite know how to respond, because after all, you didn’t really agree with her. You hadn’t felt obligated to do anything. It seemed like a no brainer to you to not say that you saw her that night. It was never even a question, never even a consideration to tell Peter Nat had escaped.

You swallowed, only taking a tiny sip when she offered you another spoonful. The green-eyed woman frowned at that.

“Nat…”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but she merely shook her head.

“Bucky was practically ready to flog me for leaving him,” she lightly said despite the severity of the topic. “When they threw me down in here, I was prepared for it. Even with my possible delicate condition.”

Your eyes met hers, and she sent you a crooked smile.

“I knew only one person could talk them out of whatever they prepared to do to me…and I knew there was only one thing you could say that would change their minds…” you bit your lip at that. “Thankfully, I thought wrong, but even if I was pregnant, I’d still understand why you did it.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh.

“I may not have agreed with it nor been the biggest supporter of that decision…but I get it,” she shrugged. “After they found out what you did, I think I was scared for you more than I’d ever been scared for anyone…and I imagine that’s what you’d felt like.”

Your gaze found the sheet on your legs.

“If I had known something that could save you too, I might’ve done the same.”

When she offered you more broth, you sadly shook your head. A look passed over her features at that, and her face fell. She set the spoon back in the bowl with a small sigh before standing.

“I had to check on you,” she told you. “They said you haven’t been eating, and I didn’t realize how bad it was…”

You noticed the way she eyed you, and you suddenly had the urge to find a mirror. She set the bowl down, and she looked unsure about it.

“I’m going to leave this here. Just in case…” she trailed off, a bout of worry crossing her features. “I’ll come check on you again when I can.”

You nodded at her words, but the shock from Nat’s presence and the few sips of broth had taken more energy than you cared to focus on, and you were already sliding back down in bed.

It took her a long time to climb the stairs and shut the door behind her.

It could’ve been days later when you heard the low timber of a voice that wasn’t wholly familiar to you. It scratched some part of your brain, but not enough for you to pinpoint where you’d heard the tone before. Unfamiliar fingers were prodding at your face and neck, and the feel had you frowning in your semi consciousness. 

The man hummed to himself.

He was speaking, but you were in and out of sleep, so you couldn’t tell—nor cared—if he was speaking to you or someone else whose presence you weren’t aware of. A voice spoke back, and both sounded so muffled and far away to you.

You felt those same fingers on other parts of your body, as well as cold metal, and the intense temperature against your warm skin made you jolt a bit. You pushed at the hand, but a voice shushed you, but it didn’t sound close enough to have the intended soothing effect. Words were exchanged again, but you were already falling back asleep.

It was a dreamless sleep, the first in a long time, and it made the passage of time feel like a blink.

A voice so hauntingly and achingly familiar to you reached your ears, and you thought you were dreaming.

“I don’t give a fuck about what Steve would’ve wanted. His wife is healthy and coherent and probably getting ready to give him another Goddamn baby,” the voice hissed, interrupting a smaller more feminine one. “She’s been like this for weeks, and no one said a word to me.”

“Peter-.”

“Dr. Banner should’ve been here weeks ago. I should’ve known about this weeks ago. I should have seen her weeks ago…!”

Sleep was pulling you back in again, and the louder the voice got, the more it started to fade. The wrathful pitch grew higher and higher but also fainter and fainter until it was gone entirely, and sleep welcomed you again.

Your mind was struggling to put pieces together, and in your sleep, you thought to yourself that those words sounded like they came from some demented doppelganger, the tone sounding so much like Peter but not at the same time. You had never heard him so angry, and a voice in your head convinced you that you dreamt it, used to a sweet disposition from your dark captor, the dichotomy of which never failed to throw you into greater mental turmoil.

When your senses came to you again, you felt stronger than you had in probably two months at this point. You weren’t entirely sure, completely confused by the passage of time. The basement smelled different, and even the bed felt different, but as you shifted, you understood why.

The numbness that you had started to find comfort in was gone, and you could feel the bed and pillows and sheets beneath you…and they felt familiar. Too familiar. They felt like home. They felt like the place where you’d spent hours in Peter’s arms and hours sleeping and hours accepting the affections of the man who’d kidnapped you.

You thought you might have conjured the feeling up, but then you inhaled, and Peter’s scent filled your nose, and you thought of the nights he’d slept here alone in your absence. The faintest of touches disturbed the back of your hand, so featherlight that you could almost ignore it, but the slight pressure in your chest wouldn’t let you.

When you opened your eyes, his face was the first thing you saw.

His hair was a little longer, a little curlier and brushing his ears, and his face was as pretty as ever, but the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. Had you the strength to move, you would’ve reached out to touch them.

Peter was knelt beside the bed you shared and his hand was in yours and his brown eyes lit up at the sight of your own. His face shifted so suddenly and seamlessly that you would've sworn he’d been smiling at your sleeping face this entire time instead of with that pinched brow and clenched jaw you’d been initially met with.

“Hey,” he softly and slowly greeted, dragging the word out in a whisper. “...my pretty girl.”

You swallowed, blinking a few times before briefly glancing around to confirm you were where you thought you were. Your gaze caught onto the medical equipment by the bed, blinking at the bag two feet above you with unidentifiable liquid in it. You absentmindedly reached up with your free hand as you traced the direction of the tube.

“Hey, hey,” Peter softly admonished, taking your other hand too. “Don’t touch it.”

You looked down at the feeding tube going into your chest, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Confusion filled you, and you were just about to speak when Peter let one of your hands go to take your chin instead. Still in the process of escaping sleep, you could only blink at him, a million questions running through your mind that you didn’t have the capability to voice.

“You’re really weak and…you haven’t been eating,” you watched his face as he said this, and you took note of the dark shadow that passed over his features, and you thought to yourself that perhaps you hadn’t dreamt that interaction at all. “Dr. Banner gave you that because you need to eat.”

Peter appeared to get choked up, and your eyes widened a tad. Sniffing, he rose a bit to press his lips to yours, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“You need to eat, you need all your strength,” you felt his tears on your face. “...because we’re going to have a baby.”

He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his own looking between them as he spoke.

“My pretty girl is going to have a baby,” he whispered more to himself than you. “...and you want her to be healthy and fat, don’t you?”

His thumb brushed over your lips, but it was hard to focus on anything he said after ‘baby’.

“I need you both healthy,” he said, voice cracking, and he kissed you again. 

His arms circled around you, and you felt his wet face fall to rest against your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there that peeked through above the large shirt, his whispered happy words reaching your ear.

“My baby’s having a baby.”

[jmdbjk]

The year that was 2024:

But first...

Standing at the threshold of 2025 I look back far past 2024 to that day in June 2022 and the grief, disbelief... the shock and trauma those of us experienced while watching the Festa Dinner video. That dinner had been pre-recorded a few weeks prior and they released it on June 14. The members had to be scared of what our reactions would be when we watched it. 

At that time we still had no idea how military enlistment would unfold, that news was still months away for us after the October concert in Busan. All we knew was BTS was going to pause but we did not really know what that meant. And it wasn't just the fans who went into a tailspin, Hybe stock took a dip, the secretary of Ministry of Culture Sports and Tourism begged BTS to come back. The news of a BTS hiatus began to hit international news media across the globe. The emotional devastation was real.

That day and following days, it seemed like 2025 was forever in the future. What would we be like in 2025? What would the members of BTS be like? What would the music industry landscape be like? What would the world be like? It was two and a half years away from that day. Back in June 2022, 2025 seemed like a lifetime away in the future, a bleak, dark unknown.

We attempted to pull ourselves together and look for the positives... "we'll save so much money!” and "we'll have time to learn Korean!" HAH! The real winner: “I can catch up on content!” LMAO!

Here we are now, two and a half years later. My god the shit that's transpired since. A lot of it was not on anyone's radar.

2024, the year of fighting...

Throughout the year and as the year wore on, we fought boycotters, haters, mantis and solos. We fought the media, each other, other fandoms... it was a constant battle to clear the mess. Our main weapon? Our love for BTS and the members and our commitment and determination.

We should be better at recognizing bad actors, at recognizing organized hate. I hope you all are blocking it, muting it because it is an energy drain to dwell on it and it exists. Some people are compelled to lash back at it. I'm not one of those. I prefer blocking/muting. Do what is right for you.

So here's a recap of 2024...the first quarter of the year started out calmly.

January: We were basking in the BTS documentary series Beyond the Star and waiting for a sign of our men completing their basic training. We were hoping to find out where they would be stationed for the rest of their military service.

February was relatively quiet. Except for this.

Tae's song "Fri(end)s", released mid-March.

Hope on the Street Vol. 1 released end of March with the six episode docu-series running through April.

We were hitting our stride, understanding that they'd prepared so much for us while they were away. Even k-media reported on the unusual amount of content produced by BTS to span their enlistment time. It was reassuring and we were spoiled. Looking back, it was the quiet before the storm...

This "quiet before the storm" has never quieted before the storm like this quiet before the storm quieted the first quarter of 2024.

In April we witnessed a real eclipse in the sky and then while we were having the best time unraveling the mystery of the Monochrome merch popups, the shit hit the fan with the Min Hee Jin revelations. And that circus was just beginning. Maybe I'm just naive or too much of a positive person but I never fathomed that there were people out there this demented, this twisted, this delusional, controlling and narcissistic that they thought they could single-handedly bring down a huge company like Hybe via public opinion. And as time went on and continues to go on we learned she was not alone. That woman is sick and evil.

I recalled back in 2021 seeing people be paranoid about the young company, Hybe, hiring ex-SM employees. I wanted to believe these former SM employees they hired saw the opportunity to escape a toxic workplace and therefore defected to Hybe. Now we know the paranoia was justified.

The end of April and into May I watched Begins ≠ Youth, the drama series based on the BTS Universe. It took years for that series to finally see the light of day. It was very intriguing. There was a lot of controversy about Xclusive, the platform it was delivered on. My theory is it was an experiment to see how fans would react to a blockchain/NFT product. I have a huge post in my drafts about it but we moved on from it quickly, so I did too. The series was great though.

The rest of May was a month where we were trying to remain calm, trying to remain positive. We as a fandom felt very beat up. Anticipation was through the roof for Jin's military discharge and Festa.

But first, Namjoon released Right Place, Wrong Person, the studio album and subsequently, the accompanying documentary, Right People, Wrong Place. Both the album and documentary are critically acclaimed, winning awards and landing on "best of" lists across the globe.

Finally, it's June. Jin's discharge was so emotional for everyone. We were able to see everyone except Yoongi greet him outside the gates. But it was amazing seeing all 7 together in still photos afterward. It was a collective sigh of relief that we truly are beginning the downhill side of their military enlistment. Jin has been working his ass off since that day, his album Happy and its title song Running Wild doing well.

I know we've got our opinions about the South Korean government but that day, for me, seeing Jimin and Jungkook in their uniforms, as soldiers, just hit a spot in me that I can't describe. I felt proud of them. And I hope after their discharge they can tuck away that sense of accomplishment in a safe space and flip the bird at the bureaucrats running their country.

Jimin dropped his second album, Muse, in July, the mystery solved of what all those other producers were doing with Jimin the second half of 2022. The title song Who continues to chart. His songs are wonderful. I'm so proud of how far he's come during this solo era. I miss him.

And then Are You Sure?! happened. Even though we KNEW it was coming, I can't believe we got that show. I can't believe they did all of that. Naked Jimin except for a small pair of black shorts... naked Jungkook. Just so much naked after years of Victorian era artist protection CG over every square inch of bare skin. Watching that show, so much of what I knew in my mind of how they are together was mostly confirmed.

I said this months ago: After Jungkook’s 2023 Weverse lives, the Are You Sure?! series, their companion military enlistment and his documentary I Am Still the theatrical release and the Disney+ docu-series, it is clear that Jimin is Jungkook’s touchstone, a significant presence through at least this part of his life. We can’t know what the future holds, I would never dare to assume what their own personal desires or goals are for themselves, but I do know that Jimin will play a big part in it and I hope we still get to see some of that play out when it happens.

I'm still processing. I digressed. It happens when it comes to me, Jimin and Jungkook. Moving on.

August... my god. My dear Yoongi. We are still waiting to see him again, to see with our own eyes that he is actually ok and to figuratively take his hand in ours, to reassure each other and keep moving forward to leave this year far behind. I know he knows we are here. I can't stand the wall though, of not being able to see him. Does that make sense? I mostly keep my thoughts to myself about him because it really hurts my heart to think about him having to suffer through all that. August and into September were hard, hard… so hard.

Fast forward to October when Hobi stepped out of those doors on the day of his discharge, it seemed like time had flown by as if we just watched him leaving for training camp, even though it was sooooooo long ago.

And now he's lived in LA for almost a month, been in Japan and seen with more people... A possible fashion collab? Songs/album in February? We don't know anything for sure yet but info has leaked. A tour in spring? I'll be there if I can snag tickets.

We've seen glimpses of Tae and his buff self. His collab with Bing Crosby was ground breaking and hopefully will become a holiday classic just like the original. Also, happy birthday, Tae!

[Photo shared by Taehyung on his Instagram stories.]

December began shockingly with South Korea's President Yoon attempting to impose martial law. My heart dropped. Our guys were on red alert, scrambling. It lasted a few hours before being overturned by their national assembly.

Mid-December, while on a vacation leave, Jungkook surprised us with a 2 and a half hour live just like he used to do. He looked so good. He sounded good. From what I saw, he's still the same Jungkook.

Do you realize, if martial law had remained in effect, we would not have seen Jungkook? There would be no celebrating. We would all be in limbo. Who knows what that crazy shithead (now impeached-president Yoon) would have done if martial law was still in place. The slow reveal of information about the planning of it is chilling and should be a reminder to us all to not take things for granted. Their National Assembly are still trying to get everything under control, the turmoil is not over yet.

Somehow, the Universe is working overtime to get BTS through their service and I hope it continues to do so because we still have just under six months left. At this point, I believe anything could happen.

Counting down the hours to 2025

We are about to enter the holy Borayear of our Lord Min Yoongi 2025. Bestie and I talked a lot about what the possibilities might be for 2025.

Of course, like everyone else, we know nothing for sure, only what we've gleaned from the member's themselves, official announcements, news releases and hints here and there. What we DO know for sure is there will not be a void. We have two Tannies back with us. Music will be released, content produced:

January 4 is Jin's OST.

Not directly BTS related but we as a fandom would like some closure and satisfaction surrounding the MHJ drama because trials will begin in January.

Hobi has something coming. Certainly Hobi will have another EP, perhaps HOTS Vol. 2? which would be supported with a tour. There's been a leak of info. We are on high alert.

For the others, perhaps a few one-off singles before June. Between us, we don't think Tae has another album's worth of music. Jungkook either.

A Yoongi collab perhaps?

Namjoon, probably nothing. Poor baby is so ready to be discharged.

The Jimin x Benny Blanco music, whatever that may be.

Maybe that rumored JK x Tae subunit song. Or maybe it's not a song?

Jin mentioned another album but the timing is tight to squeeze it in before June.

Then the HYYH 10th Anniversary in April, whatever that may entail. A retrospective perhaps?

Attempting to predict how their discharge days will play out is difficult. Jin and Hobi splitting up to meet Namjoon and Tae at their respective bases? And then all four of them head to Jimin and Jungkook the next day to greet them as they exit their base? We wait with anticipation.

After the Boraholy month of June 2025, we expect group activities to ramp up. What those will be is anyone's guess. Weverse lives for sure. Also, dance practice videos. We expect new music. We also expect performances. Perhaps a one-off "we're baaAAAaack!" type concert? Or not. But performances of some sort. They've been looking forward so much to performing I can't see them waiting any longer than they have to for at least one performance somewhere, somehow.

And toward the end of 2025, a comeback album and the world tour announcement. May the odds be ever in your favor. Just kidding. I'm getting those tickets.

Our speculation continues... could new music consist of more subunits?

I could be wrong but I do not think they will revisit a Bon Voyage or In The Soop format. They might pick up Run BTS but it won’t be like it was before. I can’t even see them doing what Jin’s doing in many Run Jin episodes. Not as a group.

I think (I hope) that Yoongi picks up Suchwita again. I hope he does not change one iota of the format. He can address his incident again if he chooses, reiterate he apologized, paid his fine and now we’re moving on to live our big life. That’s it. I hope if this happens his first guest is BTS as a group. 

Maybe that last thing is really wishful thinking on my part but even considering Yoongi might ditch Suchwita or change it just doesn’t align with who he is. He is a “fuck you” type of guy. 

Anyway. 2025 has a promise of hope and happiness and relief and closure. But now, I think we all know to be wary, that anything can happen. 

Bottomline to all of this, to wrap up the year and look forward to the new year is that BTS is COMING BACK. SEVEN MEMBERS STRONG.

The reality is, it will be three years from that day back in 2022, when we finally see them as a group again. The members are slowly becoming more active. We have less than six months to wait and we know how fast that can go. 163 days left for Jimin and Jungkook, 162 for Namjoon and Tae, 173 left for Yoongi.

We must enjoy every moment we can until June 2025 and hope for the best! FIGHTING.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Cookie's Fic Recs

I feel like no one really does rec lists anymore! But last night I was feeling and sappy and mushy and decide to put together my own little list of fics I love. These are in no particular order, and they don't follow any real theme/tropes other than I dearly love them all, and you should definitely give them a read!

*I tried to tag everyone I could find a blog for, but if I missed anyone, please let me know I can tag them!

The Instinctual Gravitation Towards Warmth by kimkhimhant (@kimkhimhant)

This is my comfort fic. No joke, this is what I read when I want to die. It’s angsty as all hell, it’s made me cry, but it is so indescribably good. Kim is an addict going through recovery, finding love and family along the way. He hits rock bottom—arguably multiple times—but always claws his way back, always with the support of the people that love him. It’s such a beautifully written and cathartic story, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it. But it’s almost certainly the fic I’ve reread the most. 

Error in the Code by BlackwaterVial (@blackwatervial)

Sneaking this VegasPete onto my otherwise KimChay list bc it altered me. I think most people already know what it is, but jic: it’s a sci-fi/cyberpunk/android AU, and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever read. I go feral for androids and this fic delivers in all the best ways. The world building alone makes me weep. But all of the characters interactions, the way we get such an in depth feel for everyone despite the limited PoV, and the most satisfying take I’ve seen on android artificial intelligence ever—I can’t recommend this story enough. 

Idiots & Idioms by snickerdoodlles (@snickerdoodlles)

This one is actually a series, and it's genuinely so much fun to read. For the most part it's a SocMed fic with Chay taking over Wik's twitter and making it everyone's problem, and it's fkn hysterical. This one is actually a series, and it's genuinely so much fun to read. For the most part it's a SocMed fic with Chay taking over Wik's twitter and making it everyone's problem, and it's fkn hysterical.

Silver for Truth by snickerdoodlles (@snickerdoodlles)

This fic is the Kim & Khun vs. Tawan team-up we deserve. Kim is a ruthless, demented bitch, that's too cool to beat Tawan to death bc what if he messes up his wrists right before a show?? Big, get 'im. Kim is the feral-est cat ever, leaving behind evidence and bodies for Kinn bc saying "hey bro, I still love you/look out for you" is too much emotion for him. The fic is also from Tawan's PoV which also makes it the funniest thing ever, for reason that I won't spoil <3

The Wiked Lies We Live by shubaka (@shubaka)

Oh my god, this fic. Canon divergence (technically??) where most things happen as normal... except KimChay have been bodyswaped at the start of it. The little twists Shu puts on the events of canon, given it isn't the correct characters experiencing them (such as Big being very confused about why Kim is suddenly nice to him??) are so much fun.

A Portrait of Affection by froginthesun (@froginthesun)

Kim is an artist and Chay is the part time nude model he hires. ‘Nuff said right there, except no it isn’t, this fic is beautiful. Kim’s frustration with his craft is palpable, and so is the way he rediscovers his passion through Chay. The writing is wonderfully detailed, every chapter felt like walking through a museum. And tension slowly building between them—unf. 

Sunshine in My Closet by moneskin 

This is an A/B/O AU that is so satisfying to read. Typical hilarious boundary violations (Chay stealing Kim’s clothes, a bewildered Kim handing over a freshly worn outfit, having barely any idea who this strange kid is) characteristic of the AU, but then the story also delves deeper into more serious topics. Chay has a history of abuse from a past alpha that he has to learn how to navigate with Kim, who is incredibly patient and works hard to make Chay feel safe and loved. Overall a very sweet and comforting read. Seriously, this fic makes me melt.

Your Body Feels Like Disrespect by Blue_Jay (@bluejayfiction)

This fic is so funny because it begins with Kim blurting out, in the middle of an Important Mafia MeetingTM, that he and Chay aren’t having sex, and then wanting to die about it. Followed by Kim’s family trying very hard to both support and terrorize him. It’s hilarious, sexy, and one of my favorite reads when I need a pick me up. (Bless Kinn’s determination to be a Good and Supportive Brother, and Vegas for being the Worst Person Ever.) 

In Silent Screams (In Wildest Dreams) by BelladonnaWyck and StratsWrites 

This is definitely a darker fic. There’s DubCon, Kim is generally Sketchy, but it’s very hot. And I love explorations of his character where he isn’t just outwardly psychotic and cruel. This fic shows the kind of dark that I think Kim could have been, if you just tilted his character a little to the left. He still seems very much the way he is in canon, but he’s also… a lot more calculating and cold, sometimes. I love it. 

Forget-me-always by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

I cannot sing the praises of this fic enough. I think it’s probably tied for IGTW for my most-read fics. I’ve probably read this one more often in reality, but only bc it’s shorter. But oh my god, does it hurt. Kim gets struck with amnesia post-break up, does a little light stalking, and gets Chay to help him learn/remember who he is. In the process realizes that wow his life sucks, and there’s no way he wants to go back to it. Especially if he’s the kind of person that hurt Chay. He would rather start over. (Ofc, he doesn’t get to). This fic makes me cry, it’s so good 

Coffeehouse Play by AirgodSLV

This is a canon divergence AU that I adore. The KimChay characterization is on point. I love that despite everything going on around them, they also get to be two boys that hang out and play videogames and try to shove each other off the couch while Porsche makes dinner. Given the age difference it’s so easy to make Kim Older and MatureTM, but he’s still a kid, and this story never once forgets that. It felt so honest and true to his character that Kim does have a lot of plans, and he’s very smart, but he’s also still so young, and sometimes shit just goes wrong. 

Want and Need by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

God, this fic. T h i s f i c. Post-canon Chay goes to therapy and becomes a camboy (in that order) and it’s delicious. Watching the steady breakdown of his and Porsche’s relationship is so satisfying. Everything one of them does to make things worse feels awful, but is so in character that it’s hard to be mad at them for their decisions. Kim readily giving up control if it means he can be with Chay, and Chay getting a crash course in how to dom. All of it is just. So good. This is such a good fic

Your Look, Through This Lens by WildelyDawn (@wildelydawn)

AU where Chay becomes Kim’s photographer. This fic emotionally hobbled me. Just a fair warning. You will cry. But that said, the ending isn’t nearly as sad as the tags would have you believe! At least in my opinion. I think it’s fairly open/hopeful, and beautiful either way. I love the way this fic shows how Kim balances being Wik while also being part of the mafia. And I love how temperamental he is; always hot and cold, while remaining pretty even as far as how he expresses himself. Always very aloof/detached, just out of reach, with Chay never really sure where he stands/what Kim wants. But at the same time the fic happens just before Kim gets a big break, and the subtle ways he shows his excitement and nerves as things start coming together—it’s wonderful. 

Love’s a Two-Way Dream by giraffeter (@giraffeter)

This fic is dark. Kim atticwife’s Chay and it’s not a good time. But!! It’s not just dark for the sake of it; Kim is a genuine sociopath, yes, but it unfolds slowly. You get a sense of creeping dread as he does things that are just a little bit off, until finally the Big Bad Thing happens. At first he seems normal, playing the part of good and respectful boyfriend. But it just goes downhill from there, and I love every word of it. The ending especially is very satisfying. 

In the Dark of the Night by bisexualbard (@bisexualbard-writes)

Not to recc everything Bard writes, but… This is a rape recovery fic that I feel handles the subject matter incredibly well. There’s no gratuitous rape scenes, and even with the flashbacks, I don’t remember any of them being incredibly detailed. I think Bard handled the fic with incredible respect and grace. This is another one that’ll make you cry. The way Chay handles his past trauma while trying to have a relationship with Kim is so painfully real. And so is the way Kim wants to help him, but doesn’t really know how. But they figure it out together, and it’s amazing. (Also Kim acquires a stabby child in the form of an OC that I adore.) I just love the path Chay's recovery takes in this fic, it's so visceral and relatable. It's all around just. So good. I love this fic for the same reason I love IGTW and it's because both fics show an excellent depiction of recovery.

Chains and Crowns, A Flower Can Both Make by Sweet_William (@sweet-william-writes)

Incredibly Regency AU. Historical AUs are some of my all time favorites, and this is everything I didn’t know I needed. Sweet_William captures the essence of an Austen-esque style while still making this feel like the KinnPorsche characters. Chay is wonderfully feisty, Kim is delightfully complex, and the various family interactions always had me cackling. 

Simple Little Secrets by CorvusCloudburst (@cloudburst-ink)

Chay sees the future when he touches people. Kim thinks he’s either insane, a spy, or a conman. Oh, and Chay’s visions of Kim? Always sex-related. The shenanigans are endless. What more do you need?? They’re both crazy4crazy and it’s my favorite thing ever. Their banter is snappy and fun, the writing is sexy, and it never once gave me second-hand embarrassment despite Chay’s horrible situations. 

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 3

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Ready for some more ridiculous flirting? lol

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Got a Hold on Me” by Christine McVie (of Fleetwood Mac) Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, fluff, first encounters and first dates

Part 3: “Got a Hold on Me”

Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you met the man’s gaze across the bar.

You recognized his bearded friend, Benny, who leaned over and said something to Dean. You couldn’t hear him, of course, but maybe he was asking a question. Because Dean nodded and said something in reply before he picked up his glass of what looked like whiskey. And he smoothly got up out of his seat.

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said. A smile curved her lips. “I think I’m going to go play some pool.”

And with that, your friend abandoned you. She slid off her seat and patted your ass on her way over to one of the pool tables. You watched her go with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. 

“There you go, hun,” said Jo. She slid your drink in front of you. It came in a deep round glass on a stem, with a straw on the side.

“Thanks,” you replied.

You opened the straw and took a small sip to steady yourself, as you saw Dean coming out of the corner of your eye.

You even pretended not to notice the handsome man sliding into the seat next to you. His elbows rested on the counter next to yours, and you finally glanced over at him.

“Can I help you, sir?” you asked. A coquettish smile played at your lips, but you even surprised yourself with your smooth delivery. Inside, you had butterflies.

You didn’t notice the way Jo’s gaze lingered on you and Dean, a frown marring her features. Though she soon moved on to another patron.

And Dean’s attention was solely on you. He gave you a handsome smile, full of charm. You gave him expectant brows. 

“Well, we’ll see. I’ve got a question for you,” he said.

You indulged him with a nod. “Okay. What’s your question, Lieutenant?”  

“Why Girl Scout cookies?” he asked, speaking of the baked goods you’d brought by the firehouse yesterday. “I mean, we’ve gotten cakes, muffins, Krispy Kreme donuts. But I gotta say, we’ve never gotten some bakery-style Trefoils.”

Your smile brightened a bit.

“Who doesn’t like ‘em?” you asked. “I mean, you can walk by their table and be all coy and pretend you’re not going to buy anything, but then you walk away with half a dozen boxes of Thin Mints.”

Dean chuckled, and you enjoyed the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Or is that just me?” you added, and once again sipped at your drink. 

Meanwhile, Andréa felt a hot gaze on her as she set up the cue balls on the pool table. She allowed it with a subtle smile. If it was the same one she’d crossed paths with earlier when she walked in with you, then she didn’t mind.

She was, however, getting impatient.

“Mind if I join you?”

The pleasant drawl of the man’s voice licked up her spine. When she glanced over her shoulder, her smile widened a fraction. Finally.

“For a game?” she asked. She straightened, brushing a smooth wave of dark hair off her shoulder.

And she turned to meet the bearded man standing casually behind her, resting his glass on the edge of the pool table. The gray of his rolled up, buttoned-down shirt brought out the vivid blue of his eyes. But even though he was tall and broad, he didn’t seem intimidating.

“To start with,” he said. His lips quirked at a smile. “But first, I think it’d be a damn shame if I didn’t ask for your name.”

Andréa’s head tipped to one side as she considered him. She picked up the second pool stick and handed it to him.

“Are you going to ask?” she replied. Her fingers curled around her own stick as she leaned a hip against the table. 

It made him smile. Those eyes of his considered her dress, an earthy green that brought out the hazel in her eyes, warm against her tan skin. But he lingered on her face, full lips and long, dark lashes.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked.

“Andréa,” she answered, and gestured to the pyramid of cue balls. “I’ll even let you go first, if I get your name.”

His smile deepened, and he leaned over beside her to line up his shot. He glanced over and found the challenge in her eyes was more than welcome.

“I’m Benny,” he said. He took the shot without looking at his target, breaking the pyramid and scattering cue balls across the table.

Back at the bar, your drink and your conversation were both bringing a pleasant buzz to your brain. You nodded along with the music when “Got a Hold on Me” by Christine McVie replaced Boston.

“You’re liftin’ me up,” she sang through the speakers. “Never let me down…and I smile whenever you’re around.”

Dean glanced at you with a small grin, shaking his head.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he said. “I just didn’t expect to see someone like you here.”

Your brows furrowed. “Someone like me?”

He caught the look on your face, and his turned apologetic.

“Nah, I just mean…this doesn’t seem like your usual vibe,” he said.

You weren’t quite sure how to take that, but you eventually shrugged.

“To be honest, I don’t go out all that much,” you replied. “I like it here though. Good music, good drinks—”

“And good company, I hope,” Dean added in. You allowed that with a smile.

All the while, Christine kept singing.

“I’ve been down. I’ve been used. Now I know, I know, I know, I just can’t lose…”

“So did you guys like the cookies? Or did the Girl Scout thing put you off,” you teased. Dean’s lips quirked.

“Sweetheart, those delectables were gone by end of shift. I’m talking that afternoon. They were easily some of the best cookies I’ve ever tasted…I’m serious,” he said, when you became a bit bashful, and maybe disbelieving.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you had your own bakery, I’d be lining up every damn day,” he said. He then sent you a playfully suspicious look. “Matter of fact, you didn’t just buy those, did you?”

Your smiled warmed as you considered your half-empty glass. Your fingers traced the rim.

“Well, don’t laugh but…I actually went to culinary school,” you said. Dean’s brows rose high at the confession.

“Why would I laugh about that? That’s awesome!” he said. “Why didn’t you become a chef or something?”

Your gaze drifted downwards. “Well…let’s just say, life got in the way.”

His face dimmed a little at that. But you noticed, and you tried to perk up.

“So yes, sir. I baked all five dozen of those cookies with my own two hands,” you said more cheerfully. You raised waving fingers. “I’ve got the burns to prove it.”

You’d actually made a rookie move, trying to move one of the trays before it had sufficiently cooled down. It was bad enough that you had to apply some aloe last night.

Dean made a show of furrowing his brows, with playful concern.    

“Let me see,” he said. He straightened in his seat, acting more “Lieutenant Winchester” as he took your hands and examined your palms and fingers. You blushed, and you bit your lip against a smile as his larger hands handled yours with care.

He did notice the redness on your fingertips, and part of your right palm. He glanced up at you.

“Do they hurt?” he asked.

You blinked at the genuine note in his question.

“Oh, not really,” you said. But you smiled at the fractional raise of his brows. “Well, maybe they still sting a bit, but it’s nothing. I had worse in school, believe me.”

Dean hummed as he considered your hands. Your face heated up further as you tried to get a read on what he was thinking. Was he about to do the cheesy thing and kiss it better? (Though you probably wouldn’t mind, even if he did.)

Instead, Dean reached into his own glass and grabbed an ice cube. After shaking off some excess water droplets, he moved the ice against the pads of your fingers, then down the fading red mark on your palm.

“That feel better?” he asked.

If possible, your blush intensified as your insides warmed and melted like hot butter. It was a sweet, and seemingly earnest gesture that plucked at your heartstrings.

And that was how Dean Winchester got your number before “Got a Hold on Me” ended.

Andréa was still chatting away at the bar with Benny by the time you decided to call it a night. She understood why you wanted to get home, to check on your grandfather.

You saw a bit of disappointment in Dean’s eyes when you said you needed to go, but he graciously offered to walk you to your car. It was pretty late, after all, and you had more than one reason to agree as he stepped out with you into the night.

You didn’t know if it was the evening chill, or his presence burning beside you that made a small shiver run through you. But once the two of you reached your car, you hesitated and looked up at Dean. You realized that you were reluctant to end this, whatever it was.

He quirked a smile down at you and tucked a wily strand of hair behind your ear.

“It was good to see you,” he said.

“Likewise, Lieutenant,” you replied, with a teasing gleam in your eyes. His were drawn to your face, lowering to your lips.

“Can I see you again?” he asked.

Again, your face warmed. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

His smile grew with his huff of amusement.

“Okay, how about I pick you up tomorrow night?” he offered. “That’s, uh…if you don’t got any plans.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. Play it cool, for the love of God. Just say yes.

You didn’t usually agree to let a man pick you up on the first date, but something about Dean felt intrinsically trustworthy. Maybe it was the fact that he’d already saved you once this week.

“Sure,” you agreed, sounding more casual than you felt. “What did you have in mind?”

Dean considered that with a thoughtful look.

“Tell you what, let me take you to dinner. Somewhere nice,” he said. His hand raised to thumb at your warm cheek. He couldn’t see your blush, but you were sure he could feel it.

“I like dinner,” you admitted. Though you immediately wanted to slap yourself. Idiot!

Dean just laughed, and your blush turned to one of embarrassment.

“All right. Something we can agree on,” he said in amusement. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Get home safe, okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, though you paused, looking up at the indecision on his face. His gaze roamed your face, once again falling to your lips. Nervousness trilled down your spine, though you didn’t know why.

Maybe you were just a coward, but you didn’t wait for him to decide. You just gave him one last smile before you turned from him, unlocking your car with a press of a button on your keys.

“Well, goodnight,” you told him. “See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, stepping back from you. “See you soon.”

Well, it was tomorrow. And you were trying not to freak the hell out.

“That’s it,” Andréa said. “That’s the one.”

You had her on FaceTime, with your phone propped up on your dresser as you raided your closet.

Your hair was pinned up, your makeup done, and now, she’d helped you find the right outfit—a dress in vibrant emerald green that hugged your curves and fell to about mid-thigh. You smoothed out the straps and twisted to see yourself in the mirror.

“Why’re you frowning. This is perfect!” Andréa said.

“I just…” You sighed, once again trying to tug up the neckline. It was a bit lower than you preferred, but if you remembered right, your friend had encouraged this purchase a while back.

“It isn’t too much, is it?” you asked.

“Not for a first date with a smokin’ hot firefighter, mind the pun,” Andréa teased. “You’re a knockout, babe. He won’t be able to pick up his tongue off the floor…but I’m sure you can find a place for him to put it.”

You spluttered laughing, even after you made a scandalized sound. “You’re ridiculous.”

Still, you knew you could always count on Andréa to hype you up. You appreciated that about her; she was confident without being petty or prideful. And while she never begrudged you for your more cautious approach to things, she did try to get you out of your comfortable shell when you needed it. This, apparently, was one of those times.

You chose a pair of black suede heels Dean hadn’t seen before, along with a few spritzes of perfume in strategic locations on your body.

“Okay, Dean’s supposed to get here at 8:00. Until then, regale me with more about your night with Captain Benjamin Lafitte,” you said, drawing out each word of the man’s name with a suggestive flourish.

Andréa gave a dreamy sigh. She smiled as she sat back against her headboard in bed.

“He was just so…” she trailed, like she was sorting through a collection of memories, savoring each one, all while trying to find a way to distill it all into a simple sentence. She had an artist’s mind, and so tended to romanticize. But you enjoyed the way she spun her stories.

“Earthy, and real, while still being charming,” she said. “I’m pretty sure he let me win the pool game. Which ordinarily would annoy the shit out of me, but when he offered to buy me another drink, I couldn’t say no, and…we talked until the bar closed.”

“Wow.” Your eyes widened as you made the finishing touches on your clipped up hair.

“Right? I’ve never had an experience like that with a perfect stranger,” she said. “I think…I think it was like, one of those connections you hear about, see on TV but never think it happens in real life. I’ll tell you, when we walked into the bar, his eyes were the first thing I saw. And they were the last thing I remember from that night, after he kissed me goodnight…well, more like made out against my car, but you get the idea.”

She smiled as her face became lost in thought. Meanwhile, you tried not to be envious that she’d had more courage than you.

“Are you going to see him again soon?” you asked. Andréa seemed to come back down to Earth at the question, meeting your gaze.

“I think so,” she said. “We’re trying to plan something for next week. He’s also a construction contractor.”

You nodded. “Yeah, Dean was telling me that a lot of them have part-time jobs when they’re not on shift.”

“Does he do anything on the side?” she asked.

“If I remember right, he said he fixes cars sometimes, but I’m not sure if he’s a certified mechanic,” you replied.

“Well, maybe he can spruce up your old-ass Toyota Camry. How long have you had that thing?” she asked.  

You scoffed. “Since college. And it was old then, since I got it used…I think I’ve racked up about 200,000 miles on it.”

Andréa grimaced. “Oh God. You really need a new car, before that thing breaks down on you.”

“That’s what I keep tellin’ her,” said Grandpa George. He appeared in the doorway with a mug of tea. He waved at Andréa on your phone screen. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Hey, George. What’re your plans this evening? Go-karting or roller blading?” she teased with a grin.

George matched it with a hearty laugh. Andréa was his favorite.

“Well, I think I’ll start at the roller disco and see where my heart takes me,” he replied. Though he had fond stars in his eyes, and you smiled, knowing what memory he was about to recall.

“Ah, my wife and I met at one of those cheesy-ass places in the ‘70s,” he said. “She was a regular there, had the knee-high socks, the shiny skirt, her long hair whipping around like a rope… I remember she skated past me and knocked me clean onto my ass. I watched her skate away, that little skirt swishing. I think I was half in love right there.”

Your heart twinged, both for yourself and for him, as you could see the sting of melancholy in his eyes. Your grandmother had passed away a few years ago, but it was still deeply painful for both of you.

George shook his head, as if clearing the ghosts of memory from his mind. He looked over at you with a fond smile.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” he said. And he reached out for your hand, playfully raising it above your head and twirling you around as you smiled. “Reminds me of when your grandma helped you get ready for the senior prom.”

You snorted at that. “You mean when she almost glued my eyes shut, trying to get those fake lashes on?”

You’d rather pluck out your own eyes than have to ever again go through the “de-gluing process,” as she’d called it.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any pictures of you that night,” George considered. A knowing smile crossed his face. “You looked adorable.”

“I looked like I had a wonky eye,” you retorted. “Why do you think I burned all the evidence?”

Andréa tried not to, but she chortled at your expense. You shot her a narrowed look.

“Careful,” she teased. “Don’t strain yourself, Wonky. You’ve got a better night than prom ahead of you.”

“Speaking of, when’s that boy supposed to pick you up?” George asked.

You let out a breath, slightly nervous as you checked the time on your phone.

“In about ten minutes.”

“Okay, for the third time,” Sam said, trying his best to be patient. He sat on Dean’s bed while the man stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He was debating the age-old question: tie, or no tie?

“Red wine goes with red meat. White wine goes with chicken and fish,” Sam reminded him. “If you get red, you want to order a bottle of merlot. It’s full bodied without being dry as hell.”

“Yeah, merlot with meat. Got it,” Dean nodded. “What’s white again?”

“Everything else,” Sam said, once again. “If you order white, I’d say go with a pinot grigio. It’s light, can be dry or can be fruity. It all depends on personal preference, but I really like—”

“Well, I’m probably getting steak, so no to pinot,” Dean said. He finally decided on no tie, just a black suit jacket over the dark blue shirt, with a couple of buttons left open at the top.

Sam sighed and gestured at his brother. “And what if she wants fish? What if she hates red wine?”

Dean frowned. “Right. Okay. Pinot or merlot, got it.”

“Always ask to try it first,” Sam added. “Or here’s a thought. You could just be yourself. Order a beer and let her get whatever she wants.”

His frown deepening, Dean shook his head and left his bathroom. He crossed his bedroom to find his shoes—the nice black ones he only wore for weddings and funerals.

“Nah. This girl’s classy, Sam. Can’t half-ass this,” he said. A bit of unease coiled in his stomach, but he tried his best to ignore it.

He couldn’t remember the last time he got nervous to meet a girl…maybe because he hadn’t gone out on an actual “dinner and conversation” date in a while.

Or at least, he didn’t think he could count his dates as real ones.

“You’ll be fine,” Sam said. He could see plainly what his brother didn’t want to admit, only because they knew each other so well.

Dean glanced over at Sam and flickered at a smile. He grabbed his keys, his wallet, and didn’t think he was missing anything…

“Dean,” Sam said. He nodded over at the bundle on the dresser. Dean reached for it and shot his brother a wink.

“Hold the fort, Sammy.”

His car rumbled to a stop in front of your house just a few minutes late. Dean took a moment to admire the nice-looking beige house with its dark trim, old but still in good condition. And he wondered if you had roommates, or if you lived alone. Maybe you even owned this place. 

He wasn’t sure, as he could only see one car in the driveway (your car, he recognized). He knew he’d need about two or three other roommates to be able to afford this two-story house. 

He straightened his collar and blew out a breath. Get it together, asshole. You’re going on a date, not running into a burning building.

Funny, he’d probably be less nervous with the latter.

You’re not nervous, he reminded himself. You like her, that’s all…yeah.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Dean turned off the car and grabbed his key out of the ignition on his way out. He walked up the red brick path up to the porch and knocked on your door.

His pulse picked up a bit when he heard a pair of heels approaching the door. Soon enough, it opened, and Dean was greeted with a sight. Namely your face, and a smile spreading across it.

Beautiful, he couldn’t help but think, as his gaze dipped to take in the rest of you. He liked the color of your pretty green dress, the soft and classy makeup, the goddamn sexy heels, and the way your hair was pinned up. (Even though it looked so soft, he wanted to see it loose.)

He liked it all, especially that you seemed happy to see him.

“Hey there,” you said, a little breathy, like you’d been hastening down the stairs.

Dean gave you a smile, along with the small bouquet of flowers he’d been hiding behind his back.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His smile deepened when you uttered a gasp at the modest bundle of red tulips. “Feel like I should’a gone with something more impressive to match you. You look beautiful.”

You glanced up at him with a sweet smile, but you took the flowers and shook your head.

“No, these are gorgeous. I…can’t remember the last time someone gave me flowers,” you admitted.

It was a bit old-fashioned, but one of Dean’s earliest memories as a kid was seeing his dad come home, late from work as he so often was. But he’d stopped along the way at his mom’s favorite flower shop. He brought her red tulips rather than red roses.

Dean didn’t know why. Maybe that was her favorite flower, or maybe the roses were all out. In his memory though, his mom’s upset faded whenever she saw those flowers.    

“Thank you,” you said warmly, taking Dean out of his thoughts. He flashed you a smile touched with slight embarrassment. He drew a hand through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Well, uh, are you ready?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yep! Just need to grab my purse and put these in some water.”

You welcomed him inside the house while he waited for you to find a vase. Dean took the opportunity to look around from where he stood in the hall. It looked big on the outside, but inside, it looked like a cozy family home. He took in the wood furniture, a paisley couch in the living room, family pictures on the wall and in a China cabinet rather than actual fine China.

It didn’t exactly scream high-powered saleswoman, but maybe you’d inherited it from your family. Or you were going to have it fixed up before you sold it, like some Property Brothers-type action. Or he was reading too much into it entirely, and should just focus on the fact that you’d agreed to go out with him to begin with.

Dean perked up when you returned with your purse on your shoulder and the tulips in a vase, which you set down on the living room coffee table for now. You greeted him again with smile.

“I’ll find a better place for those later, just didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you said.

“You’re good,” he said. He offered you his hand, along with a grin. “I hope you’re hungry though. I know how much you like dinner.”

You giggled, ducking your head in embarrassment. You followed him out the front door.

“If we can forget about that tipsy foot-in-mouth moment, that’d be great,” you said. Dean shook his head.

“Sorry, my mind’s like a steel trap,” he teased, even as he led you down the few steps of your porch in your heels.

“Oh, really?” Your brow raised. “Okay, I’ll remember you said that.”

Dean smirked. “Uh oh. Why do I feel like that one’s gonna bite me in the ass someday?”

“We’ll see,” you replied in amusement. “Future dinners might be on the line here.”

Your eyes widened when you finally saw his car parked behind yours in the driveway. Big and black and sleek and Chevrolet.

“Wow. That’s your car?”

Dean shot you a grin that was somehow proud without being smug.

“You like her?” he asked. He unlocked the car and even opened the passenger side door for you.

Wow again. A rare gentleman. You smiled and obliged him by climbing in.

“I think I do,” you said. Dean got in on his side after closing your door. The doors creaked and the engine rumbled when he turned the ignition. He looked over at you in a way that made your insides both flutter and melt. Anticipation and warmth.

“Think she likes you too,” he said.

Shit, what did Sam say? Dean stared down the wine menu, which may as well have been a Chinese grocery list, for all he knew.

Red was what? What the hell is a Malbec? Sounds like a kind of fish. That can’t be red wine.

He discreetly raised his gaze above the menu. You were sitting there, pretty much perfect while you looked over the appetizer menu. This was an Italian restaurant. A nice one, and a cut above Dean’s usual dining spots. Neither of you had eaten here before, but you looked vastly more comfortable than he felt. 

“What sounds better to you, clams or bruschetta?” you asked. Your eyes flicked up to his thoughtfully. “You don’t strike me as a clammy kinda guy.”

A smile tugged at his lips. There was a “clam” joke in there somewhere, but he wasn’t sure you’d appreciate it.

“Bruschetta is the toast with little tomatoes, right?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, but then your head tilted as you looked down at the menu again. “Or we could do meatballs. Comes with two—a ball each.”

You bit your lip over a smile, tinged with embarrassment, like you didn't realize what you were saying until you said it.

Dean smirked. Maybe your sense of humor was more in line with his than he expected.

“Well, I don’t typically go for balls, meaty or otherwise. But whatever you want, sweetheart,” he teased. Truth be told, he loved Italian meatballs, but right now, he liked your snort of amusement even more.   

By the time the server, Liam, came to the table, you seemed to know what you wanted, while Dean was still looking over the wine list like it was Calculus homework. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Liam asked.

Dean paused, unsure of how to respond. He glanced at you on reflex. You were waiting for him to say something, he knew. He just wasn’t sure what he could say that didn’t make him look like an idiot.

“I’ll have a glass of this Cabernet Sauvignon,” you replied to the server, and pointed out the name of the wine on the list. He nodded and wrote that down, then turned to Dean next.

“And for you, sir?” Liam asked.

Again, Dean had a conundrum.

He decided to play it safe. “I’ll have the same.”

You eyed him a moment, before you turned back to Liam.

“Can we try it first? See if we like it,” you said.

“Certainly,” he nodded. “Do you want to start with an appetizer?”

“Yes. The meatballs, please,” you replied, glancing at Dean with secret amusement. His lips hinted at a smirk.

When the server left to put in the order, you rested your elbows on the table and folded your hands under your chin.

“Something tells me you’re not big on wine,” you said.

Dean’s smile became more self-deprecating as he tapped a finger on the table.

“That obvious, huh? …Well, can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Dean Winchester.” Your head tilted as you considered him. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“Trying, maybe. Doubt I’m succeeding,” he admitted with a short laugh.

You let out a small sigh, but you didn’t look disappointed.

“I just want to get to know you,” you said. “You don’t have to woo me or anything.”

His brow rose in a subtle challenge. “What if you deserve a bit of wooing?”

You glanced down then, with a pretty blush beginning to warm your cheeks. He smiled at your demure.

“I get what you’re saying,” he inclined his head. “I just have a feeling the guys you go out with know how to order a bottle of wine, at least.”

You met his gaze at that. Your brows drew together, and it wasn’t until then that you realized what Dean seemed to be thinking. Like you were somehow better than him, or out of his league. While that was incredibly flattering (and downright surprising), it just wasn’t true, you felt.

You’d been nervous as hell up until this point, convinced that this man’s interest was half because he’d saved you. Because really, between the cut of that jaw, that smile, and those eyes, he could have anyone. And yet, he’d noticed you.

So now, you gained enough courage to reach across the table and rest your hand over his. It earned his attention.

“Look, Dean,” you said. “You don’t know anything about the kind of guys I go out with, so why don’t you just try to get to know me, instead of being whatever you think I want?”

There was a challenge in your eyes, but your smile softened it, along with your hand in his. Dean curled his fingers around your hand, and he nodded.

“That’s fair,” he said. His thumb drew across the back of your hand as he considered what you’d said. He realized he wasn’t being fair…

“See, women tend to like the firefighter thing, until they don’t,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, after a little while, it’s like the shine wears off,” Dean admitted. “Between the long, sometimes inconsistent hours, the weight of the job… It’s either too much, or not enough, you know?”

As much as that disheartened you to hear, you kind of understood what he was saying. First responders led challenging lives, and you could imagine how hard it would be to maintain relationships—from family and friends to lovers. And when he met your eyes, you had a feeling you knew what he was really saying underneath.

It’s not enough…or he’s not enough?

You frowned and squeezed his hand.

“That must make it hard to find a real connection with someone,” you said.

Dean read the look in your eyes: sympathetic, but not pitying. He appreciated that, and you right now. But he was also getting a bit embarrassed. Good job, Mr. Overshare.

He let go of your hand just to lean back in his seat and card his fingers through his hair. He blew out a breath.

“Sorry. Don’t know why I’m saying all this crap,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled and crossed your arms on the table. “It’s not crap.”

He gave you a wry smile.

This Dean is not what I expected, you thought. He was all panty-dropping smiles and one-liners, until he wasn’t. Behold, the softie underneath.

Liam soon returned with two glasses with a sample of the wine you’d requested. Dean took his glass, but waited a moment to watch you bring yours up to your face. You inhaled first before you took an experimental sip. You smiled and hummed at the taste. It led Dean to sip his as well.

He immediately made a face at the bitter, strong taste that razed across his tastebuds. He was used to the burn of alcohol, but this was just gross.

That’s when he caught that look on your face—a small smile as you gauged his reaction.

“Refreshing,” Dean quipped. And dry as hell.

“You want a beer instead?” you asked.

“Definitely,” Dean nodded, looking up at Liam. “Heineken, if you please.”

“That I can do.” The other man quirked a smile. “And for you, miss?”

You tapped on the rim of your wine glass. “A glass of this please. Thank you.”

“Absolutely,” Liam replied. “I’ll bring those shortly.”

Dean watched you with a smile. You caught him at it and smiled back questioningly.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothin’.”

He liked the way you carried yourself. Smart and classy, without being a snob. Confident and sexy at times, while shy and freakin’ adorable at others…

Damn, Dean thought. He liked you. He did.

And he didn’t want to admit it, but that kind of scared him.

AN: Hohoo, so believe it or not, this is just part 1 of the first date! The rest is to come in the next chapter. But how did you like this so far?

Next Time:

You watched him curiously as he shrugged out of his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders, like this was some kind of Hallmark moment.

Heh. Can’t believe Meg had it right, he thought, as he caught your blush.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Can’t let you catch cold in this little dress,” Dean reasoned.

He gently tugged you in closer by the ends of his jacket. Once again, his gaze was drawn to your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. You still held both ice cream cones between you two, but he could be careful enough to sample something else.

He started to lean in…

Keep Reading: PART 4

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[fictioninmyblood]

Back to Bed Pt. 2

Summary: Terry and Y/N had been married for just over 7 years with 3 beautiful children and a blooming self defense business they’d built together to show for it. Having started their relationship at the beginning of Y/N’s journey into discovering her submissiveness and Terry’s first stationing as an instructor - Terry had been her only dom and thus knew her like the back of his hand and Y/N has been the only sub to experience the harshest version of his dom giving her the same privilege over him. Having been pregnant with their baby girl upon coming home to the Sandy Springs situation, Terry has been using it as an excuse, too afraid to lean all the way into his dom personality the way he had with Y/N before his last tour.

After they get into an argument, again, about the events of Silver Springs and how even after the last few years of stitching their life back together, he still only talked to Summer about everything that happened and was handling her with kid gloves, Y/N separates from him best she can. Completely at a crossroads of what to do to feel like she’s still her husband’s wife and losing all the fight to try and figure it out, she gives Terry the silent treatment and isolates from him, doing her best to only be in the same room with him when the kids are. After weeks of her barely acknowledging him or the argument, Terry is tired of going to bed alone when his wife is sleeping in the guest room right below him. His plan? Let the dom in him handle it and finally confess his monsters.

WARNINGS: 18+ themes, Minors DNI, d/s themes, smut, angst

A/N: I almost forgot to tag folks, literally stayed up all night finishing this part. Charge it to my head not my heart.

Tags: @kirayuki22 @blyffe @scorpiosaintt @kaylaahisthebestest- @captainwithoutmakingitlove @nayaesworld

A/N: Thank you to all the Terry girls out there that have created a monster in me for this man in literally less than a week. Story inspired by @megamindsecretlair ‘s “I Swear I’ll Never Leave” oneshot and @keyaho ‘s “R.E.L.L.S.” series.

A/N: There will be at least one more part. Kinda proofread, sorry in advance for any mistakes.

Just as he had finished the thought staring down at her with his arms folded and his mind racing with all the ways he could have this night go, she delivered exactly the push that would make him give them what they both needed, obviously.

“Just because I’m down here giving you all sorts of ideas, doesn’t mean I’m going to comply just like that.”

He raised a lone eyebrow and responded, “Is that so kitten?”

Y/N nodded her head, causing Terry to tighten his hands around his folded forearms. It was something small, but now that they understood each other and were officially in the scene he knew that she knew what that answer meant. He held his hand up to his ear and said, “come again kitten?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes that is so.”

“You testing me mama?” Terry asked while holding her chin to keep their gazes locked.

Y/N shrugged and struggled to keep her smirk entirely off her face as she moved her face right out of his grasp, seeing the exact reaction she’d been hoping for flash behind his eyes.

Terry grabbed her hair by the base of her neck and yanked harshly, leaning into her face as close as possible while he practically snarled out, “You will use your words.”

Y/N smiled blatantly now, what could be considered a demented smile, raising an eyebrow as if to mock his signature move with her, and replied, “Or what?”

“Or what?” Terry repeated confused and baffled by the audacity his kitten was showing. He’d already told her how close to snapping he’d been, warned her of the dangers of interacting with him in this state, and she still chose to provoke him. His mind couldn’t wrap his head around the minx that was kneeled before him, it seemed he wasn’t the only one hiding a different beast. She was usually always so compliant, even when being bratty it was easy to get her to fold to his commands, but not now. “Or what?” he repeated again, more so as a statement as he loosed the grip he had on her hair to rub the base of her skull.

The second he watched those beautiful eyes close accompanied by the sound of the barest of moans, he slapped her face 3 times in a row, open palmed like before. When her eyes and mouth popped open, his finger fucked her throat with 3 of his fingers until she was a slobbery mess. He’d pressed down on her tongue, effectively gagging her, leaned in close to her face and licked from her top lip back to her ear to grasp it between his teeth.

“You bout to find out and I don’t want no sounds out of you except ones of pleasure, mine and yours.”

Y/N smiled at him when he pulled away to look at her again but it quickly dissipated when his became sinister. “I’m bout to fuck you so good you beg me to stop and I’m going to keep,” he slapped her face one, “goin,” a second slap made her cream her panties, soaking through to the sleep shorts covering them. 

He didn’t have to see it to know it because he knew her expressions, had learned them thoroughly over the years enough to know her involuntary orgasm face. It was his favorite afterall. Terry let his wet fingers slip out of her mouth and immediately put his dick in while it was stil hanging open. Despite having plans to tie her down and fuck her sensely in their bedroom, something about this moment made him desperate to have this.

As soon as Y/N lifted her hands to hold onto his hips he popped the side of her face. “You already know what time it is mama, stop testing me.”

It really wasn’t fair how he was holding a one-sided conversation with her knowing damn well that she couldn’t respond, only react. He was using everything he knew about Y/N against her and this was the one arena that she welcomed his attention to detail. Her pussy couldn’t stop clenching around nothing since he let out that ‘fuck’ earlier.

Only thing Terry was focused on was his nut and her compliance. Despite clenching her fists at her sides for a bit with no problem she had the audacity to reach for his pussy. HIS pussy!

He pulled himself from the depths of her throat and pulled her to stand by the grasp he suddenly had on it so fast that Y/N officially couldn’t think anymore. Even the following slap barely registered as her fight or flight responses pulled her psyche in separate directions. One part of her trying to witness the moment from outside her body while the other wanted to lean into all the sensations he was making her feel.

“You acting up a little too much for my liking kitten, let’s fix that huh?”

Terry grasped her arm and turned her over his knee, using his foot to sweep her off of hers as he sat,  in such a swift motion that she couldn't have counteracted it if she tried. Gathering the second arm into the same hand that had the other at the base of her spine he got right to work. He’d gotten to his 6th blow before her body tensed up from finally feeling them all at once. Terry was not being gentle and she knew in this moment that he was definitely going to mark her every way he can, starting with the bruises that were sure to start appearing on her ass in a few hours. He let her ride out the sensations for a few moments, rubbing her butt with all the love and care he had for her before he was back to quick pops. By the time he stopped the 3rd time, he’d reached 25 and she was on the precipice of an orgasm if her moans were any indication, but he didn’t want that just yet.

“Why you actin’ up so much, huh?”

Y/N was on a high that just kept going up with every second under his hands. She had never experienced her subspace like this before and she was greedy for more. There was a small part of her that asked what if she pushed too far, but it wasn’t loud enough to stop her from looking back at him with fresh tears in her eyes from her most recent punishment, opening her mouth to say, “maybe you just don’t how to punish me.”

If she thought he looked menacing before, that was nothing compare to the monster that appeared as he rained 5 more slaps that were far slower and far heavier on her ass cheeks. She wanted to keep looking him in the eyes, happy to see this hidden side of him, but she had no control over her body as she came again, eyes and head rolling, muscles tightening. She could swear he’d shown her the universe with the way the darkness behind her eyes lit up.

[mumms-the-word]

guys

GUYS

you’ll never believe what nonsense I came across while I was brainrot doomscrolling through all the books and notes on the BG3 wiki trying to find stuff I might have missed in act 2

druid self-insert romantic fanfiction about the first battle against Moonrise and Ketheric

fanfic that Halsin read and criticized!!

Okay if you played early access you shouldn’t be surprised because these books existed in EA. I’ve tried to find them in my game post patch 6 but all I can find is volume 3, which is disappointing because I was hoping to find volume 4

But as a treat, if you’re like me and completely didn’t know about this, buckle up and please enjoy the self-insert adventures of a certain “Roa” who totally isn’t Roan Featherway, a druid of Silvanus and colleague(??) of Halsin himself

———

Book Draft - Volume I

The name on the inside of this faded journal suggests it belonged to a 'Roan Featherway', a druid of Silvanus.

[Neatly written chapters fill this journal. A list of what appears to be book publishers in Baldur's Gate are on the first page. The cover has a multitude of titles, all crossed out: 'The Unforeseen Alliance, volume 1', 'Druids and Harpers, a fight for good!', 'The Shadowed Evil: who dares to stand against it?'] Our hero, the [brave? mighty?] druid Roa arrives in the grove. When he received the summons from the Emerald Enclave, he knew something was afoot. Filled with druids and rangers alike, members of the Enclave are scattered across the realm. They fight to preserve the natural order, keep the elemental forces of the world in check, and do battle with those who would upset this delicate balance. They are fierce warriors, though none as fierce as Roa. Built like [an ox? A bear?], he stands head and shoulders above the crowd. The grove is buzzing with activity. Roa spots a beautiful woman with ebony hair flowing past her shoulders, her eyes as blue as a [summer's day? bluebird?]. His smile turns to a frown as he notices the crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. By Silvanus, what was a Harper doing here?

———

Book Draft - Volume II

Formed from several journals, paper scraps and, in one case, the back of an envelope, this book has been carefully glued together to form the second in a series of romance novels.

[This seems to be the second volume in a series written by an amateur novelist. The title on the cover, 'Love in Shadowed Lands', is crossed out.] The ebony-haired woman notices Roa's gaze and crosses the grove, [winking? smiling?] as she stands by the druid's side. 'I don't usually wear it out in the open,' she says, tapping the brooch on her cloak, a crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. 'Except for special occasions.' 'What's a Harper doing in a grove of Silvanus?' Roa asks. 'Not just one.' She gestures to a group by the sacred pool. 'We're generally more cloak and dagger,' she continues, 'thwarting tyrants and [guarding? protecting?] the realm is best done in secret. But you lot have a fight on your hands. We're here to help.' 'Since when do the Emerald Enclave need a bunch of Harpers?' Roa says. 'You haven't heard?' She laughs, her laugh tinkling like a bell. 'Strap in, sweetie. We're about to take on Dark Justiciars, their demented leader Ketheric Thorm and, if we're very lucky, Shar herself.'

———

Book Draft - Volume III

The third book in a series of romance novels, this once beautifully bound book has had pages ripped out, glued back in and even tied to the book's spine using a piece of twine.

['Volume Three' is written in bold on the front. The title 'The Cost of Sorrow' is followed by a number of question marks.] 'But why?' Roa screams, the beast within barely contained. 'Why follow Shar? Why destroy Moonhaven?' Ketheric stares down [haughtily? cruelly?] at Roa as he steps over the bodies of Harpers and druids alike. 'Shar knows all.' He smiles [maliciously?]. 'She gave me a holy mission. I'm merely fulfilling it.' 'The people of Moonhaven trusted you!' Roa cries, his anger rising. 'How could you turn your Dark Justiciars on them?' Ketheric smiles, 'They needed the target practice. Can't have Shar's elite getting rusty, now can we? As for you...' a crescent blade appears in his [cruel?] hands. 'You are but one lone druid, Roa. Who are you to stand against me?' Roa forces himself to his feet, Silvanus' fury coursing through him. 'I'm your downfall. Today you die, Ketheric!'

———

And for the pièce de résistance 😮‍💨🤌

Book Draft - Volume IV

The fourth volume and final novel, this book has had almost every single page ripped out, except for the last twenty or so pages.

['Shadow's Kiss' is written in bold on the front. Pages of crossed out lines have notes in the margin reading 'finale!', 'more exciting!'. The final entry reads:] 'Get out of here.' Roa whispers, clutching his side. Blood pours from his fingers, a final gift from Ketheric's blade. 'I'm not leaving you,' Selene sobs, blue eyes filling with tears. Roa cups her face. 'I won't make it out in time. But you can.' Selene presses her forehead against his. Her ebony hair falls forward, forming a curtain that envelops them both. Roa closes his eyes, a smile lifting his lips as her scent, wild roses, washes over him. 'That grappling hook. You still have it?' He asks. 'Of course. Why do you -' With the last of his strength, Roa pushes her from the balcony. He watches her fall, watches her pull the hook from her pack and expertly throw it, swinging gracefully to the ground. A mighty crack splits the floor beneath him as the tower crumbles. He smiles contentedly. Selene was safe. That's all that mattered. Epilogue: 'Selfish bastard.' Selene says, kicking the base of the grave. Balsin places a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'He was the greatest of us all,' Balsin says, a towering behemoth of a druid, although not as tall as Roa. 'We will forever honour him, for he single-handedly broke Shar's hold on the land, and helped -' [A different hand appears beneath the final entry.] Roan, you had one job. This is not a historical record of what occurred, it is poorly written romance with no basis in fact. And if I ever see the name 'Balsin' again, I will personally feed you to Ormn.

Halsin you’re such a critic

we were robbed

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe part 4: something to look forward to

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: You and Edith make significant progress on your mission to put Lucille behind bars; Thomas makes a confession before you go to sleep

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: ghosts; a lil bit of steam [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are married; more pining; simp Thomas

The ink had dried enough on the final document you were working on duplicating for tonight that you could group them together and place the original papers back in Lucille's hiding place. Tomorrow morning if ever she were to check on them, she would be none the wiser of what had been transpiring over the last two weeks. You repeatedly clenched and unclenched your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them after writing with barely a pause for break over the last few hours.

"Tomorrow we'll be done with all the documents," you whispered into the silence, feeling Edith's presence nearby as you made your way to Thomas' workshop. "I'll need you to show me where the phonograph cylinders are hidden, and if you know which one has Lucille's demented confession…"

"I'll show you the way," she confirmed. "And I'll make sure that none of the more…how do I put this…bloodthirsty spirits don't touch you. They tend to be a bit overly protective of their turf."

"The what?" You froze in place at her mention of bloodthirsty spirits. You had enough of a fright when you'd first "met" her and Enola, you might not survive encountering their less agreeable companions. The feel of someone nudging you from behind had you moving down the corridor again.

"Don't you worry about them, Y/N. I'll do my part to keep them away, explain to them that you're our friend, and you'll put an end to Lucille's lifelong murder spree. It might take time for them to fully understand, but they will."

Once you crossed the threshold to Thomas' workshop, you heard the exaggerated groan that belonged to your fleeting husband. Checking the candle in your hand, there was only about a thumb's worth left.

"Right on schedule," Edith remarked before you felt a nudging sensation on your shoulder. "You know he must really care for you if he's willing to endure being with her for the sake of your safety. Before she made him go back out into the city to find a new wife--well, a new victim, he looked gaunt. Almost like he found his life grotesque. Then he came back here with you and…there was color in his face again. Like he's allowed himself to live while he wooed and married you. There's a happiness in him when he's with you that I only ever saw glimpses of back when I was--"

Her words fell dead, but you had a feeling you knew what the sentiment was. Back when I was alive. Back when I was his wife.

"Why Miss Edith Cushing, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were playing matchmaker with your ex-husband and his current charlatan of a wife," you mumbled, trying not to look to deeply into her words, her testimony of Thomas' time before you. You were already having enough trouble keeping your affections for him at bay whenever he engaged in your routine of a kiss to cap off the night, marking yet another rung on the progression ladder. Lucille's incarceration becoming ever closer.

You decided to hide the duplicated papers in between the pages of his sketchbook, thinking the chances were slim that Lucille would look into them since he only kept concept art of the toys he wished to work on within it. Flipping through the pages to evenly distribute the additional papers, you found a set of sketches that had absolutely nothing to do with toy designs.

The last few pages that he'd worked on in the journal were filled with sketches of you. Some depicted you asleep, others as if the image he had in mind was of you next to him at the dining table. And a full page that showed the bedroom you shared with the baronet, you perched on the edge, a light wash of orange painted on the page, like the scene was illuminated by firelight.

That was the day you arrived at Allerdale Hall. The fleeting moments of desirous bliss you had before reality came crashing down on you.

"You say this marriage is all an act for you both now, but it doesn't look that way. Not from where I'm standing…well, floating." Both of you shared a chuckle before she posed a question at you. "Y/N something I noticed at night when he makes his way back to you…there's an excitement in him, as if he can't move fast enough."

"I--I didn't know about that part," you answered her in hushed tones as you made your way to your shared bedroom, maneuvering the barely moonlit halls with what little candlelight remained. "I usually try not to look at him before we sleep. I fail, of course, but I make the effort. Granting his request for a kiss after he washes the night off of him was already a miscalculation on my part--"

"Completely understandable miscalculation," she quipped, managing to quietly open the bedroom door wide open. "Far too handsome for me to even think of knowing any better back then."

"My thoughts exactly," you mumbled, stepping into the bedroom and disposing of the used candlewax before stretching and allowing yourself to relax from the night's clandestine activities. "Goodnight, Edith."

"I'll talk to the spirits inhabiting the corridor where the cylinders are hidden," she offered, a faint whispering joining her once again before you heard her echoing chuckle. "It seems your husband's rushing to make his way to you. You still have quite the night ahead. Goodnight, my friend."

You could feel the fatigue setting in as you let the tub fill for Thomas' bath before putting away your tools and your blades, mentally preparing yourself for another night of insufficient sleep. Just as you had for the better part of the last two weeks.

Right as you made your way back to your side of the bed and shook your hair loose from your bun, Thomas walked through the open door. You gave him a small smile. "I should be done with the documents tomorrow, Edith and I will work on transcribing the recording cylinders that can lead the case more to Lucille than you two days from now at the latest."

"That's wonderful news, darling," he beamed at you, running his gaze over you briefly before walking toward the bathroom. "I shall see you in a few moments," he told you, his voice echoing across the tiles. A few seconds later the sound of the water sloshing and a sinfully satisfied groan filled the room as he sat into the tub. "You truly are a godsend, my wife. Thank you."

You did your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach hearing him call you that. You wouldn't hear it for much longer with the progress you were making. "You're welcome," you answered back, fighting back your own sounds of relief once your back hit the bed and you allowed yourself to finally relax for the night.

The cumulative efforts of the last dozen or so days seem to have finally taken its toll on you, your eyes fluttering shut as soon as your head hit the pillow. You hadn't been able to hear the sound of Thomas padding his feet on the floor and back to you, or his little gasp as he saw you in your slumbering state.

"No…" he sighed, climbing into bed with you. "Y/N, darling, please tell me you haven't completely fallen asleep yet," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

"Hmm?" You leaned in to his touch, feeling a strange sense of comfort when your cheek rubbed against his slightly calloused hand. "'M awake…" you mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. He gave you a tender smile when your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but return it.

It was only in these moments just before you both went to sleep, your parts in this perilous operation done for the night, that you could allow yourself to almost feel as if you were a normal married couple. Just laying in bed together before going to sleep, sharing a quick goodnight kiss before he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

Perhaps even indulge yourself, even for a moment, in the dangerous truth that once this was all over, you would miss these fleeting moments of peace with him. You'd miss how he held you through the night and how you'd wake up wrapped in his arms. How in the last few days he would greet you in the morning with a soft kiss to your nose before you both made your way out of bed and stepped out of your room.

You would miss him when all this was over. When you'd both signed the divorce papers and went on your separate ways, and you were back in your apartment in the city, going to bed alone, you would miss him.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a small sound coming from the back of his throat as he sighed into the kiss, almost as if he was relieved. "This is the only thing getting me through the nights," he said solemnly, settling more comfortably into the bed as he kept kissing you. "Knowing that this was what awaited me when I get back."

Instead of your usual night routine of a few kisses and he would pull you into his arms, both of you falling asleep to the sound of the other's breath evening out, he moved his body closer, kissing his way to your neck, his hand traveling down the side of your body until it settled at your waist. His lips began to trace along the neckline of your nightgown, the contented hums against your skin combined with the feel of his lips on you had you struggling for breath. "Thomas--"

"It should be you," he whimpered, his exhales warming your skin. "I should be spending my night with you. Laying with you." He kept on kissing along your neckline, his other hand pulling along the string that exposed your décolletage and he immediately pressed his lips to your chest, above your heart. "You're my wife, I should be with you."

He kissed his way back to your lips, your shock from his confession letting his tongue slip past your lips and tangle with your own. It was like flames licked all along your body at the contact, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as your fingers weaved into his onyx curls.

"Thomas, wait--" you tried to say, placing your hands on his chest in a paltry attempt to get him to pause for a moment, failing to fight against your eyes fluttering closed and your entire body melting under him the moment his tongue delicately ran along the roof of your mouth.

"I want to lay with you," he said once he pulled away, looking at you with those wide pleading eyes that likened him to a pup asking for a treat. "May I?"

For the love of all things good in this world say yes, you hissed at yourself. You struggled to breathe properly, fighting against every instinct to give in as he repeatedly whispered "please" into your skin. Trying to not let the curiosity and desire consume you and see how far your husband was willing to go.

This was the fantasy you wanted to lose yourself in, where by some miracle when all this was over and you both made it out alive, that you'd found something with each other that neither of you wanted to lose. That after all this perhaps you could have a life together, preferably far away from Allerdale Hall and the figurative and literal ghosts that roam the corridors.

The fantasy that perhaps when you were both safe from Lucille and she was serving her time behind bars, locked away where she couldn't harm anyone anymore, that Thomas might not want to sign the divorce papers. Because maybe he was falling in love, too.

"We've come so far already, we can't afford to lose focus now," you answered him, your voice coming out so small it was like the words all but refused to get through the lump in your throat. "Once all this is done, and we're free of her, you'll be free to do whatever you please…with whomever you please."

The last part left a bitter taste in your mouth, like it physically pained you to say the words.

"You're right," he sighed, leaning away enough so that he could look at you. The expression on his face was akin to that of a wounded pup, making the guilt and regret from your decision overwhelm your system. "Of course." He moved over to his side of the bed, taking a breath before hesitantly touching his fingers to yours. "May I still hold you?"

You didn't think twice, moving over to him and settling into his arms. "Yes, of course." The words refused to be spoken, but you'd found a strange comfort in his embrace. That despite the very real danger you both found yourselves in, and the looming dire consequences of Lucille and the business end of her cleaver if you made so much as one misstep on this perilous endeavor of yours, you felt almost a safety in his warm embrace.

And while no one would ever be able to get you to admit it, it made getting up out of bed in the mornings near impossible. You didn't want to leave him. You wanted him all to yourself.

All the more reason why you needed to be done with this and go your separate ways. You should never be so selfish as to beg him to stay with you and deny him yet another freedom. So much had already been stolen from him.

He brushed a lock of your hair away from your face before asking softly, "How long do you reckon before Scotland Yard comes here after you send the papers?"

"Not long," you answered him, your words full of confidence in your peers. "I'll include a summary of my findings to help them through the papers I've sent them, process them faster. I'll also try and emphasize the urgency of our situation, that we're currently living in a manor with a woman that has the intention and means, not to mention the stomach, to kill me. That we have very good reason to believe our lives are in imminent danger. Should get them moving pretty quick."

"And what are we to do until they arrive?" You could feel him tensing as he anticipated your response.

Bile flooded your stomach from what you had to tell him. "We keep routine." His beautiful face looked so pained as you said the words. "She has to believe that there's nothing wrong, that everything's going to plan. If she gets even the slightest whiff that we're up to something and she kills me. Maybe even you if she finds out that you helped."

He took a shuddering breath, pulling you closer against him so he could press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's hope they move quickly then," he mumbled against you, pressing more kisses on the same spot as he took calming breaths. "I can barely stomach any more of it." His breath hitched at his words, his tone rife with shame.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his pulse sprinting like a madman. "This burden shouldn't be on you. Never should have been. She's stolen so much from you…" Your sentiment caught in the back of your throat as you did your damnedest to fight back tears. "I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't steal any more of your life away."

"What if she figures out what we've been up to? Or if she gets impatient and realizes there's no money coming after all this time?"

It took you a moment before you could answer, the implication hanging over you both now like the Sword of Damocles. "Then Scotland Yard will arrive here to a corpse. Either mine or hers."

Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I won't let her hurt you, I swear it." He stole a few more kisses from you before he cradled your head against his chest. "You should sleep, I can feel how tired you are."

"Exhausted," you confessed, settling into his embrace, the comfort from his hold blanketing over you as your cheek rubbed against the soft hairs on his chest. "Goodnight, husband."

You couldn't resist calling him that. In a few short weeks you'd never be able to again.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, stroking your hair before he whispered, "Goodnight, my darling wife."

As the minutes passed, and the only sounds that filled the bedroom were your breathing and the crackling of the fireplace, Thomas found himself unable to succumb to sleep just yet. He was still riddled with so many questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask you quite yet.

What if by some freak accident of a chance, Lucille comes across one of your colleagues when she runs her errands in the city and they were to mention who you were, and what you did before you married him? What if now that she was armed with this new information, she deemed you too much of a threat and decided to do away with you like she'd done with so many other innocent women?

What if she decided to make it even worse, and ordered him to kill you instead? Spout some nonsensical notion that he needed to get his hands dirty this time around so she could see if he still had the stomach for it?

He knew he wouldn't be able to hurt you, that he would be completely unwilling to. But would he be able to protect you against Lucille?

And the question that had him looking upon the coming weeks with a mix of dread and hope, all depending on how you would react if he were to even muster up the courage to say the words: What if you stayed together after this fleeting partnership of yours? What if you were open to exploring what a life together would truly be like? Move away from Allerdale Hall and find a place in the city?

"What if I begged you not to leave me?" he whispered into the empty silence, stroking the backs of his fingers along your cheek. "What if I've fallen in love with my wife, and I want to turn our marriage into something real?"

A/N: *popping out my head from my writing hidey hole* Well hi there! Been a long while since I updated this story, but I can promise you now…I didn't abandon it 🫡 And we're picking up with our precious meow meow baronet big tiddy goth husband really showing his hand here that he's catching feelings 🥹

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[kaylinlmfao]

Okay so you know the Dark!Ethan Landry x Fem!reader where he finds out she pregnant, can you do a part to if it?

the abortion (2/3)

type of piece(s): imagine, oneshot, drabble, series

type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark, suggestive

warning(s): smut, rough angry smut, sub space, orgasm denial/control, overstimulation, breeding, pregnancy, ownership kink, dom ethan being a cocky tease, choking, slapping, bondage, just really dirty and nasty in general, RAPE/NON CON, degradation, ethan is super experienced like a fuckboy

pairing(s): dom!ghostface!dark!toxic!ethan landry x sub!shy!reader

A/N: thank you guys so much for all the requests that have been coming in! please, keep em coming. any idea you have, no matter how dark it is, I'll write it. but just know, I'm mainly into writing for ethan (or tara and sam) and the sturniolo triplets so if you request someone or something not those people, it might take me a little bit longer to get to them but they will be written. it'll just take a bit longer. but keep the requests coming, I love them! reblogs are much appreciated but please don't repost my original work on other platforms without giving credit! I might do another part to this but idk yet. enjoy!

I bang and pound on his back as i scream for him to put me down. "ethan! put me down right now! I don't want to "try again" you idiot! I didn't want a baby in the first place! we're only teenagers. you fucking-" he cuts off my screams by slamming me on the bed, hand gripping your throat. "fucking what, y/n? hm?" my vision was hazy as I stared into his dark eyes. "bitch" I say, spitting in his face and then starting to kick and fight him to get him off of me. I felt his leg buckle as I kicked his kneecap and I took the opportunity to roll off the bed and run to the door. as I were running, he grabbed my ankle, pulling hard causing me to fall. I let out a cry of pain and he stood and walked over to me.

"sweetheart, I want a baby so we can be together forever. what don't you understand?" "I understand that you are a demented motherfucker who deserves nothing in life." "you're making this much more difficult than it needs to be, princess. I was gonna fuck you slow and romantic on the nice soft mattress, but you pissed me off. so now you get a rough hard fuck on the floor. we could've prevented all of this if you would just listen to me" he told me, looking at me in a way that made me almost forget what he was gonna fuck me for.

i back away as he pulled his belt off with one hand, knowing what was coming. "give me your wrists now, y/n" "no! fuck you!" i shout. "what did I say? you're just making me angrier." he grabs both my wrists in one veiny ring clad hand and wraps the belt in sort of a handcuffs thing. "get off of me ethan please. we can't raise a child." he ignores me as he begins to pull my shorts off. I whimper when I see him pull a knife out of his pocket. "ethan please" "you begging just makes me wanna stuff you with my cum even more sweetheart" i hold back a moan at his words as he cuts my shirt, bra, and panties off, laughing at the goosebumps that cover my skin at his touch.

he immediately takes one of my nipples into his mouth and starts roughly sucking and biting it. I barely hold back a moan as he travels down toward my navel and then past, to where I need him most. he chuckles lowly when he sees how wet i am. "oh princess. you're soaked. do you need me that bad? you're awful wet for someone who doesn't want this." "I don't want you ethan" "so you don't want me to do this?" he asks. I gasp as his lips meet my clit and my eyes nearly roll back into my skull as I feel a rush of pleasure.

"or this?" my clit is sucked into his mouth and I make a pornographic sound I've never heard before. "how about this, mhm?" I shake uncontrollably as he sucks hard on my clit, flicking his tongue rapidly back and forth as I get closer to the edge. he plunges his tongue deep into my pussy, in and out so fast that I can't see. right as I'm about to fall over the edge, he pulls his tongue out and backs away. I let out a loud sob as tears slip down my cheeks from being so close to my orgasm and then getting it snatched away. "oh poor baby. don't worry, I'm gonna fuck you. I'll fill my cock in you so deep you won't be able to breathe. you won't be able to do anything but scream and take what I give you. and you'll love it."

"please! please!" he tears his shirt off and I stare at his muscular upper body while he takes his pants off. I see his dick flap up and hit his stomach. I forgot how big and wide he was. at the sight of his cock and the way my pussy was throbbing so hard I almost was crying, every rational thought flew straight out of my head and all I could think of was getting his dick inside of me. "I fucking-" i scream in pleasure as ethan pushes his entire length into my pussy in one thrust. he's pounding into me so fast and I have no time to adjust, it burns. but I fucking love it.

ethan lifts my legs over his shoulders and now the deeper angle he is at he's hitting my g-spot with every thrust. my breaths keep getting caught in my throat. "ethan. please. slow. down." I make out. "oh no, I'm keeping my promise. fucking you so hard you can't breathe and then filling you up so deep with my cum that your little tummy is bloated." I scream as I cum hard from his harsh thrusts and dirty words as he pinches and slaps my tits. he flips me over onto my stomach and re-enters me so quickly I didn't even have a chance to take a breath before he's pounding into me again, his tip kissing my cervix. he's slapping and gripping my ass hard. "please!" I babble, waving my hands around, needing something to hold onto to keep me from passing out. my back is arching so far as he pulls me up so my back is against his chest.

I'm about to cum again when I feel his hand wrap around my throat as he squeezes hard, leaving me with no oxegen as I cum hard again, creaming and clenching around his dick. he flips me back over onto my back again and continues thrusting. I'm sobbing, tears and mascara running down my face as I moan and babble incoherently from the lack of oxegen and the overstimulation. "who's the bitch? any other insults? I can't hear you. use your words princess" he knows you can't. he knows damn well that there isn't a thought in your head except for him.

he's pressing hard on my stomach which is exactly where I feel him. my body tightens and I come again. but this time, I can't stop cumming. and he won't stop thrusting. he needs to stop because I can't breathe and I'm gonna have a heart attack. "please slow" "you can give one more" little does he know I'm still cumming from the last one. he finally slows his thrusts, just a little bit, but enough that I have a second to breathe and stop creaming his dick.

but then he starts pounding harder than he has this entire time. I'm on my back with my arms above my head, my fists clenching and unclenching trying to find something to hold onto as they're still tied. he pinches my clit one more time hard as I squirt around his dick. he thrusts a few more times before he let's out a groan and fills up my tummy with his cum. I take deep breaths as he pulls out of me, carefully making sure all his cum stays inside my fluttering and abused cunt, which is still clenching around nothing.

I lay there as he stares at me with dark proud eyes. my hair is tangled and stuck to my forehead from the sweat. my lips are swollen and my eyes are bright red from crying. my cheeks are red and tear and mascara streaks are running down them. my tits and neck are red and purple from his abuse and the hickeys. my chest is heaving and my thighs are shaking. I can't even imagine how my ass and thighs look from the way he was spanking me and gripping me. but he doesn't care. he just looks at me with possessive eyes as he goes to run a bath and put his clothes on. he comes out of the bathroom, fully clothed as he unties my wrists. ethan helps me stand and climb into the bathtub before gripping my chin and turning my face to look at his.

"if you aren't pregnant, its ok. we'll have sex until you are. but if you are pregnant and you abort my child again, it will be worse than this. do you understand me, princess?" I nod my head slowly, maintaining eye contact. "good girl" he turns and leaves my dorm, leaving me bruised and exhausted in the bathtub with a thousand thoughts running through my head. the first being, where can I get another abortion pill? I'll be gone before he can do anything to me, but I will not have a child with ethan landry.

1.5k words (I went way overboard)

@onedayatatime6 @ilovechickenwings @tommysaxes @layla29sworld @misscaller06

I hope you guys liked it! I went a little overboard I think and I don't really love it but this is how most of my smut will be so I'm sorry if it was too much for y'all! keep those request coming please! expect more fics with ethan and the sturniolo's (mostly dark smut) coming tonight! i am also working on a chris sturniolo ghostface fic (smut), matt sturniolo ghostface (smut), and one with all three of them (suggestive). comment on this post if you want to be apart of my tagslist for my future fics! thanks! ;) -kaylin

[melodrama-ticcc]

.: 𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 :.

abstract: they’ve been looking to introduce a new female into the family, looks like that girl is you.

warnings: potential stockholm syndrome, cannibalism, mild gore, depictions of delusion and mental illness, maybe this will be a series idk if it will have the demand for it

- - -

she smiles.

not the type of smile a person smiles when they are untroubled.

but the type of smile a person smiles when they are broken. surpassing the final stage of grief and instead reaching a state of acceptance. her countenance showing no signs of discontentment nor pleasure, but equanimity.

it isn’t a loud smile, it’s soft, quiet, but still toothy. fragments of bloodied meat stuck in between her teeth as drool spills from the cusp of her bottom lip. dribbling down in thick pools from her chin. drip, drip, drip. onto the porcelain plate that sat below, tainted with the remnants of meat drippings and fatty juices. like a wild animal who had just finished its first meal in months. her resolve had vanquished in the time spent in that bleak chamber down below. starved of both nutrition and any sense of humaneness. deprived of the basic needs all life requires to live. it seemed as though they had finally done what they’d set out to do all along.

but acceptance, acceptance was a wonderful thing.

the world around her was something out of a picture show. moving slowly, image by image and without noise. the sounds of this newfound kin cheering and demonstrating their contented signs of satisfaction in her actions being drowned out in the overwhelming ringing in her head. they crowded her and corralled her in her seat at the end of the dining table, affectionate hands patting her back and limbs reaching out to hug her. their smiles were wide and sickly twisted. laughter and grins are blurred together in some arcane sense. no thoughts prevailed.

“ knew you’d come ‘round ‘ventually. ”

it’s an echo that makes itself known amongst the idle silence that is her head. it draws her from her cognitions long enough for her to make out his burly figure at the other end of the dining hall. he stares at her with a soft smile, proud. leaning against the wall with such a slovenly, unphased attitude.

“ welcome to the family, doll face.”

it grows. grows into something repulsively ominous. a grin that twitches the apples of her cheeks haphazardly. aching with the agonizing detachment of what her helpless life had become. a monster, she had become a monster.

as she sits there, greeted with the domicile affection and appeased smiles of her now established family. her eyes stare at him. wide and glossy with some degree of fulfillment and carnal satiation. both at home and stray. he’s deplorable in many ways, she thinks. yet at the same time, she was living. and a part of her felt tied to his charismatic demeanor and charming smirk. he cared. in his own demented, abhorrent way, he cared. a part of her could appreciate his cautiously benevolent gestures, and even sympathize with his misfortunes.

“ awww sug’ — lookit! we don’ made’er cry. tears’ve joy those be! ” sissy smiles softly, tenderly wiping the wet from the girl’s face and planting a soft kiss to her forehead. “ bet you’re glad, havin’ me as your big sis’ now. ”

they stream down her cheeks leaving salty streaks against her velvety skin. she can only giggle. she does so quietly. her glazed eyes finally moving to the faces of the family members that surround her. voices becoming clearer, reality no longer fictitious.

it was as though the devil himself had come to tempt her. yet, he was both her captor and only savior.

but by god, did she love him.

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel LiveBlog: Scrambled Eggs

So I’m watching Hazbin with my partner who has already seen the entire series. It took us 5 minutes just to get this episode to play from the beginning because it would just skip to episode 4 while the credits where playing before i could pause or rewind. That has nothing to do with the show, it just made me unbelievably enraged, so we ain’t going into this episode happy.

What is with the cat?

It’s been a week since the last episode and every ounce of progress Sir Pentious made last episode is just thrown out as an excuse to introduce yet another character in Carmella. Was there not another way to do this? Like I get Sir Pentious wouldn’t be reformed, but just having him be suddenly paranoid with no reason isn’t founded. Even just a background detail of Angel Dust watching him from a doorway would have been enough to found that suspicion. Especially when Pentious wasn’t shown to be paranoid as a trait. I get this is narrative utilitarianism, but it’s just weak and changing one character’s personality to establish a new one is poor writing.

Sir Pentious to his eggs just feels like fandom

“That’s a lot less hot” That feels out of character

So Trust exercises to tone down the sudden change in Sir Pentious’ character and also to give Vaggie a leading role. Got it. Very utilitarian, very disjointed from the previous episode.

Sidebar, I googled who wrote this episode and it wasn’t Vivienne, however I never would have known because the last episode was equally full of contradictions that it also felt like someone else wrote it. Now maybe that was because Adam had a hand in thing, but The fact I have to google this stuff to know for sure is a joke kin its own right.

I am so conflicted about Niffty. She feels less childlike here and I like find her demented fun, but last episode she was literally written as being child-like so the pain fetish going on is repulsive, despite it not being this writer’s fault. If I want to enjoy anything about this show, I really have to just see every episode as one singular complete entity without calling back on previous ones, however this is a series and thus needs to expand itself through subsequent episodes. To not do so is a failure of concept because this series is very serialized. So in a bubble I really enjoy Niffty. In the series she is a very uncomfortable character to give violent fetishes to and make them so overt. Vivienne ruined that for you all, don’t blame me. Someone should have said how this should have been scrapped before we got this far.

Zestial is suggesting that Alastor may have died at Heaven’s hand. Alastor looks away while laughing. So there is a connection between Heaven and Alastor.

Egg Bois are cute.

Carmella has a bad case of Character Design does not match vocal performance.

Velvette, please never speak again.

Velvette is now 5 inches tall

The yellow blood looks like piss

Can someone tell Lilli Cooper that a lot of British singers don’t have such strong accents when singing. Just please, it’s a great time top drop that bad accent.

James, hi, your singing voice lost the character

The kink shaming be real.

Even Charlie infantalizes Niffty. Geez

This scene in the Turf war was peak Angel Dust. I laughed.

I have to ask, was the music written before or after the singing, because for one, Carmella sounds like she is trying to be heard over it, and second the beat of the music is either lacking or there was an issue with the audio mixing because it just sounds wrong. Like there are melodies and harmonies to a score and one of those is missing. OR, the music is just out of sync entirely with the performer.

Again, just don’t have Vaggie sing. You directed the actor to perform out of her vocal range for her modal voice. Don’t do this to her.

They are not at all harmonized, this is the worst duet I ever heard. Don’t you usually have singers record duets together so they can harmonize their voices? Why didn’t that happen here.

So this big conflict for Vaggie was never a conflict. Best resolution ever.

I like Carmella’s concept. Her character design is kinda trash and the songs were terrible. There was a good idea somewhere in this episode, but from beginning to end every aspect was contrived to just make the story work for the greater plot, the dynamics between the characters be damned. There is a sense of someone wanting to have fun with it while Medrano’s stood behind them with a chokehold on the narrative. It’s disappointing and I feel the writing suffers from Medrano’s obsessive and frantic need for control. This writing feels so insecure and I can only imagine that comes from having a very narrow box to fill.

2/10

I’m taking a break.

[heartbeatbookclub]

What do you think the dokis favorite games are.

Personally, I genuinely think yuri would be into the fear and hunger games. The horror and lore in them just seem like they'd be right up her ally.

I think it's probably easier to assign them genres? I agree that Yuri would like Fear and Hunger tho.

I don't think Monika would be big into video games, and also she sucks at them. She strikes me as a big puzzle game fan. Tetris. She's a tetris wizard. Oh, and the Sims. One day she accidentally burns someone's house down and feels incredibly guilty...but grows progressively more cavalier in her demented actions towards her Sims. The other girls like to push Monika into different games, to varying effect. She's a real sucker for games like Undertale, though.

Sayori's favorite game is Minecraft. She'd probably like games that are slower paced and easy to understand. She's the type to abandon the tutorial and say "I wanna play a game, not read a book!" then shamefully trot back to the tutorial 10 minutes later after dying 30 times in a row. She also kinda sucks at games, but can be surprisingly competitive. She'll kick your ass at Mario Kart.

Yuri is big into RPGs. Every one of those quirky Earthbound inspired RPGs, she's played, and will gush about at length if you let her. She played through a bunch of old JRPGs too, but don't let Natsuki hear that...She gets into a game for its story, typically, and she also is kinda bad at anything more gameplay oriented (Like Hades) but she will keep trying to the point of heavy frustration because she wants more of that story content (Like Hades). She probably used one of those free trial versions of RPGmaker to try and make her own RPG (or one based on a book series).

Natsuki probably has the most varied tastes. She's big into shooters, probably plays a few battle royales and is somewhat toxic (typically as a joke). She's probably the biggest gamer and the most skilled out of the lot. And, consequently, the most competitive. She probably played a bunch of fucked up flash games as a kid. And, predictably, also a bunch of visual novels & JRPGs (don't tell anyone, but I think she mightve even played a few dating sims....)

Sayori gets them all into Minecraft. Natsuki thinks the idea's kinda dumb but gets really into building a cute little house. Monika dies like 12 times on the first night and hides in a hole. Afterwards Sayori helps her learn the ropes and they build a house together. She puts her bed next to Monika's. Monika is clueless. Yuri is quietly mining the entire time and occasionally types in chat rather than using VC.

Thanks for the ask, anon!

[glacierclear]

im sorry i need to dump all my thoughts about ada x leon somewhere for personal fulfillment reasons,

big disclaimer: resident evil canon/lore is inconsistent and my feelings/thoughts on all this is NOT me stating it as fact. It's 99% speculation and me interpreting context. I'm just having fun!

it's really wild that i started my resident evil experience hating Ada. I did not understand her character and the way she's portrayed is very inconsistent and confusing (probably on purpose) and, like many others, I assumed the choices she made and the pain she inflicted on others was malicious and intentional.

But something clicked recently,,,I understand now that she didn't choose this life. She doesn't WANT to be a spy. She doesn't WANT to be a mercenary. Everything she was and everything she had was taken and stripped from her. She doesn't even have a real name anymore. I think seeing the small insight of her backstory in the biohazard manga really put all the pieces together and brain blasted me with understanding. Her entire character (to me, at least!) revolves around survival and self-preservation. She is a SELFISH character, not because of ego or power, but because of a LACK of power. She no longer has autonomy over her life in a way that matters and so the only thing left for her is to stay alive.

And I just think that ties so beautifully with Leon's struggles. Both of them being forced into this life where they have to live and die at the hands of the people who control them. And, listen...listen...it's overdramatic as fuck and a VERY idealistic/romanticized interpretation of their relationship, but honestly it makes me hella emotional thinking about Leon potentially being one of the few things in life Ada wants to live for other than herself. Him being the only person in the entire series who has ever shown her genuine, selfless kindness and care,,, and the fact that her circumstance and the trappings of her life forced her to betray him and she has to live with that guilt and has to come to terms with the fact that she will never genuinely connect with people because who even is she anymore? She has no sense of self.

And her entire campaign in RE6 resonates me in such a weirdly poignant and impactful way. RE6 has some WONKED UP writing and it's so silly and stupid; but I think if it was tweaked a little bit it would be a genuinely moving story about a woman losing her agency and bodily autonomy to a violent man who wants to own her and her fighting with his fabricated, demented vision of her. It's a manifestation of his greed and possession...and then she kills her clone and immediately after she sees Leon again and his first immediate instinct is to protect her and sacrifice himself again for her and throw himself into MORE bullets for her even after the betrayal of RE2 ........ and then after that she finally snaps and FINALLY chooses to fight for HER morals and HER justice by killing Simmons' bioweapon.

Like, listen, I hate the trope of "woman traumatized being saved by a man" in most cases, but something about the way I see Leon and Ada just makes SENSE man.

The fact that she specifically goes out of her way COUNTLESS times to protect him and save him and none of it is enough to get him to forgive her. None of it will ever be enough but she keeps trying anyways. Like, damn, his entire mission is Spain is only possible because Ada saved his ass like...four times??? And you can make reasonable arguments that she doesn't care about him he's only important for her mission, and to be honest I think that interpretation is also valid, but for me personally I just think she cares about him so much but it's in his best interest to continue believing she doesn't care.

And I just want them to be happy. But it will probably never work out between them, just due to everything...they can't escape their lives. They're both kept alive by two opposing morality systems. Leon's guilt and unyielding need to fight for truth and innocence and to protect everyone he's lost and everyone who depends on him. And Ada to hold onto herself and what whittling remains of self-identity and independence she still has when it was all taken from her, even to the point of someone making a damn clone out of her.

Man I just love them so much I'M SO EMOTIONAL!!!!!!!

[mcyt-parodies]

Y’all aren’t ready for this one… I came up with this at work and I’m so proud of the idea and even more so the execution! Thanks to (spoilers for SOS) the ending of Jimmy, Lizzie, and Joel’s series for the inspo for two of the lines! This is of course entirely PG (PEE GEE) so have fun with:

Loser, Baby: A Life Series Losers Parody

[Jimmy]

So things look bad, and your back's against the wall

Your whole existence seems so hopeless

You're feelin' filthy as a betrayal stained river

Can't face the players dead and gone

You've gone out first, your lives are all gone

Well, let me just say you're correct

[Lizzie]

Wait, what?

[Jimmy]

You're a loser, baby

A loser, frickin’ baby

You're a void forsaken fairy

[Lizzie]

Hey!

[Jimmy]

You're a loser, just like me

[Lizzie]

Thanks, Jimmy

[Jimmy]

You're a lonely party goer

A failed revenge planner

You're a bottom placer at rock bottom

But you got company

[Lizzie]

This supposed to make me feel better?

[Jimmy]

There was a time I thought that no one could relate

To being first out of which I'm cursed

But lettin' walls down, it can sometimes set you straight!

We're all livin' in the same recurring nightmare

[Lizzie]

My soul was sold to demented gods

[Jimmy]

And you think that makes you unique?

The watchers got Grian, Martyn, Pearl, Big B, and I in EVO

We're both losers, baby

We're losers, it's okay to be a

[Lizzie]

First out laughing stock?

[Jimmy]

Baby, that's fine by me

[Lizzie]

I'm a loser, honey

A conman and a dummy

But at least I know I'm not alone

[Jimmy and Lizzie]

You're a loser

Just like me

[Jimmy]

I got an appetite for TNT'

[Lizzie]

I got an appetite for samplin' every crossbow and pillager head I can find

Go ahead baby, sing that song, come on!

[Jimmy]

I got no husbands left to flower

My soul was sold against my will locked in a cage

Now I'm on the leash of eyes and ears

[Jimmy and Lizzie]

I'm trapped and it gets worse with every hour

[Lizzie]

You're a loser, baby

[Jimmy]

A loser, but just maybe if we

Eat some cake together, things will end up differently

It's time to lose your self-loathin'

Excuse yourself, let hope in, baby

Play your card, be who you are

[Jimmy and Lizzie]

A loser, just like me

[reviewdiaries]

Nancy x Ace and the riddle of knowledge in 4x11

The sweet smell of being right on the money, I love it. You know what else I love? The development in this episode. Because things in Horseshoe Bay have gone from suspicious AF to completely demented, and I am HERE FOR IT.

We finally have confirmation for why things have felt so off these last few episodes. And we’ve started to explore the jenga puzzle, if I remove this one thing - vanished as though it never existed - what else falls down? What other relationships and feelings change? Can they be pieced back together again?

Let’s start with my boy Ace, because I personally am really enjoying his storyline. Do I completely get where the frustration lies for those who would have liked to see more pining and curse breaking and TENSION? Absolutely. I too would have loved that, because Ace and Nancy serve up delicious tension for breakfast, and it’s a treat to watch it. But I’m also genuinely enjoying seeing what we’ve got, because it’s all about growth.

Ace has been given time and space this series to find himself and flourish. He’s fought through heartbreak, and yes, that heartbreak has been distorted, we know that now. Can feel the chiming sense of wrong wrong wrong, how his feelings towards Nancy have shifted, vanishing like smoke in the air. Memories and feelings erased until there’s nothing left but the bare bones of a friendship and an aching sense of something gone - reaching for his phone in the middle of the night before realising he has no idea why. Because suddenly he’s left with the sense of a relationship that stalled before it could start, an idle heartbreak, the feeling of throwing himself into work, into the next mystery, the next person who shows an interest. A tension under his skin that he can’t ever explain. But he’s found a job that he loves, he’s carving out his own space, learning where to prioritise, where the important parts of him lie, where they join together, and how to take up his own space in the world.

His sense of self worth is still battered, his issues with his parents rampant, but he’s starting to hold his ground, mark his own boundaries, find an inner steel we’ve not yet seen in him. He’s always been so quick to please, to try and do what others have wanted, and this episode we’re finally seeing him stand his ground. 

We haven’t ever seen his parents come into his space before, and we get that not once but three times in this episode. We see the tension and friction between him and his father (which we haven’t seen much of but was alluded to greatly in the first couple of seasons) and we see how his mother tries desperately to keep the peace whilst supporting her son. 

GIF Credit @goodobservationshirley

I love this moment. Because Rebbeca is right. The Claw is absolutely Ace’s house, and that means that she and his father are coming to him to lead, they are stepping into his space and they are going to treat it as his, can acknowledge that it’s his, which is such a huge thing. Sure his dad is dismissive and thinks it’s going to go terribly, but that line is drawn. This is Ace’s space, and that means he is the head of the house.

As he becomes more preoccupied with his ghost he becomes less passive with his father. He stands up for himself, he refuses to be cowed by the disappointment, the expected failure. He does this on his terms. And yeah, he stumbles at the start, but he doesn’t let that phase him, he carries on, he leads. He steps into his own and it is such a joy to see. By the end of the episode we have that beautiful moment where his dad comes to tell him how well he did. And moments like this? They’re everything. The growth, the evolution of their relationship. The way they start to meet each other as equals instead of Ace cowering before his dad, it’s amazing to watch.

And then the confrontation with Nancy. Oh guys, they needed this. Sure, it’s about the ghost, not about them. How can they get this argument out when they don’t even remember their feelings for each other? But this is the first time that Ace asserts himself. Stop. I do not consent to what you’ve done. Stop. He never stands up to Nancy. Never holds space for himself, for his needs. The closest we’ve seen him come is 4x02 when he’s desperately pushing for her to tell him what he’s missing. But even then he doesn’t come out and say it, he doesn’t communicate effectively, doesn’t express himself. He acts the part of the spurned wife, veiling everything behind passive aggressive snark and stone wall silence. 

This is everything. This is beautiful. This is communication. Expressing what he needs, what he wants, and refusing to back down. This is everything that they have been missing. I’ve said it over and over and over this season, so much of their problem has been their inability or willingness to communicate openly with each other. And here, laying down the groundwork, is the first step. The first flag Ace is planting. A map of muscle memory for the next time he needs to hold his head high and say stop, no, this is not what I want. 

But as he starts to find those boundaries, Nancy is finding her sense of self eroded. She is floundering, desperate, panicked by the timeline she’s been thrust into, desperate now she knows there are too smooth edges where her memories have been stitched together. Suddenly she doesn’t know herself, doesn’t trust herself. What is her and what is what’s left behind when it’s been taken - the trip on the pavement versus the assault? What would she do, what could she possibly have deemed so bad it had to be removed? Because this Nancy, the Nancy with the pieces removed, she doesn’t have the framework of her love for Ace, the undying certainty that she would do anything for the man she loves, even tear herself to pieces with her bare hands and a handful of words whispered in the dark. She only has an aching sense of loss and a hundred shifting pieces she can no longer make sense of. 

So she goes back to the basics. Back to the handful of things she can hold onto, the facts of the case. Over and over and over as she spirals into panic and fear and the desperate certainty that she is broken beyond repair, irredeemable, lost and alone.

She knows the date. She knows the time. She knows the call log on her phone. The memories are gone but the facts are there. A handful of truths to hold onto and whisper to herself in the dark. We have seen Nancy at her best and at her worst. But even at her worst - lost in the depths of the Hudson name and sure that she can only be the worst version of herself, she knew her mind. Trusted her memories. Could hold onto the pieces of her that she knew to be true. But this, this is a violation that she knows is self inflicted. A scalpel precise removal of pieces of her she doesn’t even know to miss.

We now have a definitive timeline - Ace called Nancy after the boat trip, after the memorial, her hair still wet from washing buttercream icing out. There’s around twenty minutes between that and her going to call on the Sin Eater. And Nancy, because she’s shaken, she’s been given proof that she’s done something she can’t imagine ever doing, no longer trusts herself, no longer trusts what she’d do, what terrible atrocities she could commit. She goes to Ace and tells him that she thinks they are responsible for the Jane Doe.

GIF Credit @whitefluffyyeti 

 But that doesn’t track, that doesn’t make sense. The Nancy we know and love would never try and erase a murder, cover up something terrible. She’d face it head on, hold herself to the same truth and justice ideal that she holds everyone to, because as far as she’s concerned she’s not special, she’s not above this. If she did something wrong she’d take herself to the police station and confess.

So that’s not it. 

But Nancy would also do absolutely anything for those she loves. Not murder, not hiding something like that. But she would absolutely run to the Yacht Club to erase something to save someone she loves, someone like Ace. It’s something time critical, otherwise why would she go there so quickly. She’s desperate. But it’s not something illegal, no for that she’d call Carson, get a lawyer involved, get it sorted out the right way. She’s not always stayed on the right side of the law - too many opportunities to show up the police when they can’t do their jobs, use her lockpicks, her sleuthing beanie. But if it was something illegal, something bad, something murderous, there is no way she’d erase it, she’d work on building the strongest defence possible, but she wouldn’t undo it.

I don’t believe it’s that they accidentally triggered the curse either. We’ve seen before, the Sin Eater erases the memory, it can’t undo the damage. If the curse were triggered, if Ace were doomed to die, the Sin Eater wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop it.

So what does that leave? I genuinely have no clue. There are some great theories floating around about that night, about the Captain of the ship mysteriously cancelling, about the curse that Ace drops overboard. Something about that is off. And we can no longer trust what we’re being shown as viewers. Is what we see the truth? Or is it the altered version after the Sin Eater has removed it from the characters’ collective consciousness? Did Ace and his dad have a lovely bonding fishing trip or did something else happen? Did Nancy and Ace actually have that conversation as we saw it? Clearly not. But what have we had erased? What parts are missing? What jigsaw pieces are we going to be gifted to fill in to make the picture make sense?

My two cents, for what they’re worth - I don’t believe the ghost and the Jane Doe are the same. I think these are two things thrown together to make us think they’re the same. If the Captain theory holds true I’m willing to bet that they’re the burned corpse. But I think the ghost is the figurehead from The Governance. 

The Governance was stormed away from its original course thanks to the Aglaeca - thanks founders and your truly terrible treatment of women. Like I was in a storm. 

They then ripped the boat to pieces and left the figurehead as a protector of the Black Door, literally in the basement. The sky is gone.

The figurehead that has watched over as they tried over and over to merge the Sin Eater with the stolen children. There’s only one left.

She’s ethereal, not wearing the clothes she died in, but a white robe - like an angel, like a woman in white, like a being of magic. And Nancy Drew have been at great pains to point out throughout that there is a balance. Plugonia - plural, one doll for evil, one for light. What if the figurehead is not just a watcher, but part of the literal balance of the Sin Eater?

Now, @flythesail has done a truly excellent post exploring this theory which makes me feel much less like I’m going crazy connecting dots that aren’t there, and I highly recommend checking it out, because she does a fab job exploring the ideas of reincarnation that the writers are bringing into play this season, and makes a very compelling argument for this.

And once you start putting those pieces in, suddenly Nancy and Ace behaving as they are over the ghost and Tristan begins to make even more sense than memory erasure and heartbreak. And honestly, that’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.

But the thread has been found - how can you find a thread to pull when you don’t even know it’s missing waiting to be discovered? Against all the odds the photo, the timeline, it’s starting to emerge. And we know how Nancy gets once there’s a mystery. That desperate all consuming urge to uncover the truth, the light, the justice for a town steeped in darkness and secrets, for the people caught up in the web, for herself.

[rosethornewrites]

NR, E, & M reading since 7/25

Finished

Not Rated:

thought that I'd feel better, but now I got a bellyache, by Buttercup_ghost

The ghost fire flickered. Slow, faded flickering, as if it was dwindling. Indeed, it shouldn't be a thing, due to the soul calming rituals it experienced in its youth, but there is something that cultivators don't know, a secret that allows our humble ghost fire to persist after death: not all ghosts are formed out of resentment.

No, some are formed from love.

"A-Xian?" The ghost fires voice wavered. "A-Cheng?"

But, no one answered it. The words were barely there, whispered into the wind and drowned out by it.

The ghost fire trembled. Where were its brothers? Where was its son? Where, if it was indeed dead, was its husband, who it was sure was waiting for it in the afterlife?

"A-Xuan?" It tries again, when none of the living answer. Perhaps the dead will, it thinks, if it—she—is dead as well. But it's no use. Her husband does not answer either.

Jiang Yanli, ghost fire barely holding onto existence, is completely alone.

divulgences, by ataraxistence

In the midst of an embrace with Wei Wuxian on the floor of the Library Pavilion, Lan Wangji senses that someone's spying on them. In the ensuing confrontation, both he and Wei Wuxian (shockingly enough) use their words.

Canon divergence, in which they basically realise their affection for each other way early on, while Wei Wuxian is still studying at the Cloud Recesses.

counting crows, by cloudyrobinwrites (jwyoomi)

Wei Wuxian received the news of his first death a little bit too late.

Explicit:

love; it will not betray you, by vespertineflora

When Wei Wuxian realizes how strange it is that Lan Wangji is the only disciple from his sect at the Wen Sect's indoctrination, he puts together a haphazard plan to get punished with him and get some time alone to talk to him--only to get punished again when Wen Chao catches him mid-conversation attempt. At first, Wei Wuxian laughs off getting shoved into the empty dungeon, but he soon notices that some strange scent in the room is making him go into heat, which is a twist that Wei Wuxian doesn't understand. It's only when a rutting Lan Wangji gets shoved into the room with him that Wei Wuxian realizes Wen Chao's idea for punishing him is far more demented than he could have imagined. (canon divergent from The Untamed, episode 12)

love; it will set you free, by vespertineflora (2 chapters, 2nd in a series)

(A sequel to "love; it will not betray you.") Lan Wangji hadn't been prepared for the punishment Wen Chao had had in mind--and he certainly hadn't been prepared for how it would play out, from Wei Wuxian's suggested solution, to the claiming bite and resulting bond that revealed deeper emotions than Lan Wangji could ever have anticipated from Wei Wuxian. Surviving the indoctrination camp is only the first step down a long road towards the life he's desperate to have with his new mate.

Mature:

Thunderstorm in the Library Pavilion, by ZamaShines (5 chapters)

“Wei Ying, please,” he pleaded, desperation making his hand hover around Wei Wuxian’s shoulder for a second time.

The image of Wei Wuxian, breathing hard and uneven, his face drawn and his body taut with constant shivers, was a sharp contrast to his typically radiant and carefree appearance. Lan Wangji was struck by the sight, frozen in place, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. He didn’t know what to do, how to help him.

(Or, Wei Wuxian is afraid of thunderstorms and Lan Wangji wants to help, but don’t know how.)

Just go forward like you mean it, by tawaen (10 chapters)

Before Wei Wuxian can say he will join Jiang Cheng and attend the Wen indoctrination, a letter describing the burning of the Cloud Recesses reaches Lotus Pier.

Realizing the danger to the Jiang sect, he decides to stay behind to help with the defenses and keep his sect safe. While he agonizes over the fate of the disciples sent as little more than hostages, he upgrades the wards of the Jiang sect to stand against the inevitable Wen army.

Lotus Pier will survive, and Wei Wuxian changes his own fate and the fate of the Sunshot Campaign.

Unfinished

Not Rated:

Disclosed Regrets, by HuaisangsIntellect

One typical, ordinary morning, the entirety of the cultivation world awaken in a strange room resembling that of the Burial Mounds. Wei Wuxian, as usual, is the prime suspect for their mysterious appearance. Although...

"Shijie...?"

"A-Xian!" "Wei Ying!" "Wei Wuxian!"

What entity transported them into that strange room, and for what purpose? And someone PLEASE explain to Jiang Wanyin why Wen Ruohan is having the time of his life right now..!!

And most importantly, why are both Wei Wuxian's past AND thoughts being broadcasted to everyone? And why, for the last time, are all of the supposedly-dead people (including the bad guys) alive again?

(Or: The characters of Mo Dao Zu Shi watch Mo Dao Zu Shi)

In the End, by Sciatic_Nerd

What if, when Jiang Cheng felt he was forced to choose between protecting his beloved older sister or his loyal brother he remembered that Wei Wuxian always found the worst trouble and he never, ever remembered to guard his back.

Or, what if Jin Guangshan never managed to tear the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng apart.

Explicit:

Only with Time, by adrian_kres (🔒)

Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were arranged to be married as is tradition. Throughout their thirteen-year-long "courtship," things were not always as they seemed. Now, newly married, old secrets have ripped open wounds they thought were closed, and they must work together to rebuild a trust they never had and a love they always did but couldn't see.

Told from alternating points of view between LWJ and WWX with frequent flashbacks to memories of their "courtship".

Heavenly ribbon, by RebelPirate1765

Wen Qing's scattered soul found it's way back to being whole, no longer attached to the same worldly morals as before, she returns to her 21 year old self. She picks up a sword to stand in the way of her clan's destruction. But standing against Wen Ruohan is no easy feat when he has your whole clan as hostage.

She leaves for Gusu to begin her quests to gather allies, her dept to Wei-Wuxian not forgotten either.

An actor in her own life, she can no longer tell, who she is, nor who she really loves. All she knows is that she can not let her brother die again.

Set before the Sunshot campaign, during and after.

Mature:

Army Dreamers, by Forever_Marie

Lan Wangji finds Wei Wuxian in the field with strangle marks and other horrible injuries after Lotus Pier falls.

He takes him back to Gusu.

I’ll grow you a garden (in my fortress of stone), by Lyna_Mei

Wei Wuxian finds himself in the Unclean Realm. Nie Mingjue finds himself wanting to keep him. The world around them finds the situation strange but it doesn't really matter.

Or

Everything could be completely different if Wei Wuxian's intelligence and skills were recognised and valued. Well, not absolutely everything, but most things certainly could.

(一日三秋) One day (seems like) three autumns, by SpicyRamen_10969

13 Years ago, Wei Ying disappeared.

13 years later, two teenage boys find a man collapsed and bleeding on the side of the road.

This is the story of how Wei Ying finds himself going from homeless to living with his childhood best friend, Lan Wangji, and finally getting the help and love he needs and deserves.

Fool Me Once, by bnonsensical

It’s the guilt that eats away at him. He has so many regrets and he is just...so tired.

But when Lan Xichen finds himself reliving a nightmare, he does what he is always prone to do: push aside his own concerns to ensure that history doesn’t repeat itself.