#this started as tags on someone else's post before I decided that person did not need me writing an essay on their post

[joejhang]

my problem with raven!neil

this may be controversial but i've actually found that i don't rlly like raven!neil fics and aus. and here is my thesis. spoilers ahead continue at ur own risk.

crucial distinction here is that i don't actually dislike the concept of "raven!neil" as an individual character concept. i think it's actually very interesting to look into the sort of person neil would be if things had been slightly different. that is, obviously, the point of au fics and headcanons. my actual problem with raven!neil is mostly when fic writers and the fandom in general put him in context and into au fics and then the problems start arising. i'm being purposefully vague but i'm gonna go into all the problems i've come across when it comes to raven!neil.

first off, and this is something i've mentioned before, i think the fandom tends to strip abuse victims (particularly the characters who got out of the nest) of literally any agency or individuality. this happened with jean, when the whole fandom seemed to collectively uwufy him as if he isn't an adult (yes he's young yes he's barely an adult but he IS and i would argue thinking of him as a child still does him no good) with massive amounts of trauma. yes, jean has a learned fear of riko and tetsuji (and coaches by extension bc of the abuse from raven coaches) but he actually doesn't harbour much fear towards anyone else? he has come to expect violent retribution/punishment and does sort of have this problem where he bares his throat for the knife (when he puts the racquet in rhemann's hands and when he expects laila to hit him back) but other than that he actually doesn't demonstrate a lot of fear or panic when engaging with others.

i think the same would go for neil. the neil in current canon quite literally has no fears that do not trace back to his father. he doesn't fear riko, tetsuji, ichirou, andrew, drake or even lola and his father's men. where he does show fear is whenever his father gets involved. he isn't afraid of riko or anything riko has to say until riko brings nathan wesninski into it. the closest thing he comes to fear for anyone else is when he flinches from wymack but i'd call that survival instinct rather than like...fear. he doesn't have much of an emotional response, just an instinctual and physical one.

we obviously have no idea how neil's fear would develop if he had grown up at the nest. i'm not sure how much of a difference it would've made, honestly. obviously, those eight years on the run heavily reinforced his fear, so i don't really know where that fear would go if he was stagnant at the nest and confirmed (?) to be safe from his father. i think one of neil's key personality traits actually is his bravery and fearlessness, so i can't really see neil ever being truly afraid of tetsuji and riko. if you want to compare jean and neil in this aspect, all i'd say is: people have different responses for trauma. neil is not jean 2.0 or vice versa. even if they were put in virtually the same environment with the same treatment, they are still different people with different personalities. thus, they respond in different ways. just like jean and kevin responded in different ways, though their situations are implied to have been very different.

besides the point of fear and object of fear, i don't actually think being afraid of ur abusers means ur a baby that should be coddled and uwufied by the fandom. it's actually completely normal and human, so i actually have no clue why the fandom decided to do this with jean.

as someone in the tags of one of my previous posts so aptly said, autonomy ≠ agency. did kevin and jean have autonomy in the nest? no. but they did have agency. stripping abuse victims of agency and personality is actually so harmful and i think it's way too normalised in fandom culture. but that's a discussion for another day. we've all heard the comparison of the fear responses in relation to andrew (fight), neil (flight), kevin (freeze) and jean (fawn). i actually think these are mostly accurate, but it doesn't do any good to simplify it so completely.

neil having to remain sedentary rather than running away and never stopping or looking back is inevitably going to alter his responses to situations. neil's knee-jerk reaction to traumatic events or news in the og trilogy is literally: go on a run. this might still be the case in the nest, but i doubt it. i've said before that i think neil is the type of person to fight back. u could argue in response to that that jean was also fierce and angry when he got to the nest but developed something akin to learned helplessness where he simply stopped fighting back as a trauma response. but again: neil and jean are not the same person. they may have similar personalities, but everyone is different. you can't boil down all the victims of a particular abusive situation into the same person. this is stripping them of agency and individuality, once again. jean learned to stop fighting back and even ask for violent punishment for "wrongdoing" but i honestly don't think neil would. again, not because he's superior or inferior to jean, he's just a different person entirely. his time at evermore in trk was effectively a trial run for the time that riko intended neil to spend there after the year ended. we don't know exactly, but it's probably safe to assume that riko tried to cram as much of the abuse that kevin and jean received over several years into those two/three weeks. i mean, neil got fucking waterboarded and handcuffed to the bed for fuck's sake. i think at some point neil does say that he bowed his head and played at subservience, but when it really came down to riko and tetsuji trying to force neil to do something he adamantly did not want to do (sign the raven's contract) he literally just refused and didn't relent even under torture. jean even said he thought riko might've killed neil for it. neil was literally ready to die rather than bend to riko's will.

obviously, things would be different with kevin and jean in the equation. i can see neil reining himself in for their sake, but this brings me to another issue i have with raven!neil. and that is the strange need to turn neil into a protector figure. i.e. a human meat shield with a martyr complex for kevin and jean. every time i sense any iteration of this in any fic or hc i literally have to stop reading. it's just so...like random to me. neil has literally not been a "protector" in canon in fact he's almost always the one being "protected" (andrew's deal to literally protect neil from his father, wymack and abby's protectiveness, etc). yes, neil has protective instincts but so does literally every human being. neil is, in my opinion, no more or less protective than anyone else. compare this to say, andrew, who is known for his role as the "protector" (beating up the guys who hurt nicky, killing aaron's mother + getting rid of his addiction, making deals w kevin + neil). i've also written another extensive essay about why neil isn't and will never be the martyr or sacrificial lamb that some ppl seem to want him to be, so i won't go into it here. just please please please read the series back and realise: neil is quite literally the opposite of a martyr. i just have no idea where the idea of neil as a martyr or protective figure came in. especially in regards to kevin and jean.

it bears noting the first time neil meets riko with kevin there. at kathy's, neil doesn't hesitate to defend kevin and clock riko's shit. but note: defending ≠ protecting. and even if you do want to call that protecting, neil's way of "protecting" has never been in a martyring, self-sacrificial, human shield way. he is almost always on the offensive (clocking riko rather than directly defending kevin, punching riko, etc etc). neil is a natural instigator, and it would be such a disservice to him to erase that characteristic of his in raven!neil fics.

there are also several times in the series where neil's offensive actions have consequences that directly impact his loved ones and other people. like the first time neil insulted riko, a man literally died. the second time, drake attacked andrew. the third, neil took a trip to hell on earth and spent three weeks at evermore. the fourth, the foxes' and other athletes' cars got trashed. there's probably more that i'm not remembering, but you get the idea. neil feels guilt but never regret for this. he literally says verbatim that he isn't sorry for what he said about riko/the ravens even after the cars get wrecked and the others seem to blame him. so while i can see neil ducking his head and submitting to prevent jean/kevin getting hurt, it's also worth noting that if neil really cared that much about consequences, he probably would've stopped openly and loudly insulting riko in public after seth was murdered the first time. neil knew, or at least had a hunch, that it was his fault. did that stop him from doing it again? hell no. it can be both a character flaw and strength, but it's also just a fact. neil does not think that much about consequence. he sort of just does what he wants when he wants. it's a part of his personality. while there's no telling what about his personality would've changed at the nest, the fact that ten years living with a mob boss serial killer and eight years on the run from said mob boss serial killer didn't seem to kill that mouth of his, idk what would.

my final point is that when the raven!neil fic has andreil in it, it turns into andrew "saving" neil from his situation. words can't explain how much i hate this take on things. especially when it usually comes out of nowhere as well. bfr, andrew is not gonna risk his life to "save" some pretty redhead that comes his way without some pre-established connection. i also just think the idea of a "saviour" in a relationship is actually insane. as someone who is consistently pissed off and triggered by imbalance in relationships, this irritates me to no end. andreil obviously are protective and care for each other. that's a known fact. but i feel like w raven!neil fics they tend to exaggerate this and make it insanely one-sided. like andrew is some superhero type figure that needs to save damsel-in-distress neil who has a penchant for out-of-character martyrdom and is trapped in a horribly abusive situation. it sounds like i'm just hyperbolising no this is actually in all of the raven!neil fics that i've read. this exact dynamic. i hate it oh my god. it's not only entirely out of character i don't even think it works for them. like this should not be what their relationship is about or based off of. this last bit might just be a personal thing but i just hate hate hate it and it feels so wrong to force andreil into this kind of a dynamic. just leave my boys alone i'm BEGGING.

the aftg fandom does have this problem that should be addressed where they tend to coddle and uwufy abuse victims (particularly kevin, neil and jean in the context of the nest) and strip them down to easily digestible stereotypes. but this literally could not be further from the truth in canon. y'all forget how actually bitchy neil, jean and kevin are as individuals. kevin's fear of riko and tetsuji is bone-deep, but that never stopped him from picking fights with the foxes and hitting back whenever they had a problem w him (the only exception being andrew, but kevin already said, he lets andrew walk him like a dog out of sort-of thanks that andrew is letting him stay at psu). jean is also sort of an asshole (affectionate) back in the og trilogy and lowk in tsc too. he has a seemingly endless supply of insults for literally everyone and literally thinks about breaking jeremy's fingers for treating him too warily. he consistently gets annoyed when the trojans are too careful with him and remember when he literally threw jeremy to the floor during practice? yeah. seriously, stop boiling down these very traumatised individuals to their fear and history of abuse and erase any other part of their personality that makes them an interesting, well-rounded individual. it's so irritating to read and have to deal with the gross misinterpretation and mischaracterisation of these very well-loved characters. they deserve better, and these things also bely some very pertinent issues within fandom culture at large that should be talked about and critiqued more. jesus this is long anyway thank you for reading.

[sandersontheside]

Okay, I've been thinking about this all morning, so follow up to my last post with a lot more depth.

What if Orange isn't a side? I like the idea of orange being representative of ADHD, and I think it would be cool to see ADHD explored in Sanders Sides. It's certainly a more interesting idea than the orange side being rage or wrath.

My only problem with it, is I think that ADHD is too all encompassing to be a side. In my experience, it impacts everything. And you can see bits of it in all the sides, if you look for it. Patton is very impulsive, especially when it comes to spending money, and he feels things very, very deeply and intensely, like someone with ADHD would. Roman creates and creates, but he is insecure about it. He wears a mask of false confidence and personability, while deep down probably being the most self-conscious of them all. Virgil's anxiety over disappointing friends, forgetting things, making Thomas check and recheck, points to the type of anxiety someone who has a history of forgetting things would develop over time. The self-preservation of Janus, the lies to cover the obligations you forgot, or that you just couldn't do, the fear of being rejected or not understood if you tell the truth. Remus can be connected to an overactive mind that just won't stop racing through different thoughts and ideas.

If ADHD is a side, that's a very powerful side that has a LOT of control over the others. Which does track with Logan's eyes turning orange, I suppose. But what if, instead, orange remains a specter? Only seen in Logan's eyes or in the light over the stairs behind Virgil, hanging over them all. Not a side, not something to be reasoned with, but an unseen force. Something that can twist any side to its will--making Logan angry, making Roman insecure, making Virgil paranoid, making Patton impulsive, etc.

And that's why these hints have been cropping up in videos for so long with no actual orange side showing up.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

This is a fandom thing

AITA for accusing that publicly someone of intentionally posting their fics whenever I posted?

For context, I am autistic and write some fics that I post on AO3. But I ended up deleting my account there because some people started leaving me pornographic comments on the fics. All those comments were deleted along with the stories.

I will get to the main story now. I posted fics for a ship that I liked, but I also noticed that the fics barely got any views. So I decided to check the tags and see that someone else had also posted something which pushed my fics down from being the top post. I thought it was no big deal at first.

The second time I posted a fic for the ship, the same person also posts something around the same time. Once again, their fic pushed mine down from being on the top. And from what I saw, they got twice as many viewer interactions as I did. I thought that maybe it was just a coincidence that they posted when I did.

But then it happened a third time, then a fourth time, then a fifth time. Every time I posted for that ship, they posted something for that ship. I spoke to some friends about it and they said that they did not think it was just a coincidence. They were sure that this person was doing it with malicious intent.

Why would they think that you may ask? Because before I started posting my fics, I had said that I did not think it was fair that the ship had more fics for the male version of the mc than for the female version of the mc and that we could band together and post more fics for her. And then that person had made a since deleted post about how "female [character name] stans are the most annoying and obnoxious people in existence. All they do is boo hoo and whine when they don't get their content. If they are so upset, then those dumbasses should make the content themselves."

I decided to message this person because I saw that they had a tumblr account, and they just ignored all my messages. I ended up joining a discord servers they were in and I messaged them about how they kept posting fics when I did. They ignored my dms but were active in the servers. Since they kept ignoring me, I called them out in the server. Only then did they respond to me. They told me that it was just a coincidence and that I was just being overly sensitive. The other members in the server got on their side and called me rude and unprofessional for not keeping it in dms. I told them that I tried to but I kept getting ignored. The other members told me not to take the fic posting thing seriously and that it was no big deal and that I should just drop it instead of being upset.

I kept quiet after that and went back to posting fics for the ship, but the same person continued to post whenever I did. I pointed it out to the rest of the server and they called me an asshole for bringing it up again. So I just deleted everything on ao3 and left all the servers. I feel like giving up on writing now. It sucks because that was something I loved doing, but this experience has soured it for me.

So AITA for accusing that publicly someone of intentionally posting their fics whenever I posted?

What are these acronyms?

[simplyluunaa]

˙⊹ ੈ✰[Stopping them from killing]✰ ੈ⊹˙

-ˏˋ. rules + masterlist ˊˎ-

Fandom: Danganronpa 

Characters: Gundham Tanaka, Nagito Komaeda, Teruteru Hanamura

Warnings: !!NOT SPOILER FREE!! This one especially has many many spoilers from SDR2. This one refers to Nagito’s plan in the first chapter, not the fifth

Tags: Mentions of death, plotting murders, kinda ambiguous ending?

A/N: This one has been marinating in my brain for a while, so I finally put it into words. Also, I apologize if posting has been a little slow or the posts haven’t been quality, I had some personal stuff going on but it’s all getting resolved, so I may start posting more frequently!!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Gundham Tanaka

It had been two days in the funhouse when Gundham hatched his plan. He’d go to the final dead room, figure out the secret of the funhouse, and use his knowledge and perhaps a few weapons to fight Nekomaru, and one of them would be the sacrifice needed to free all the others

The two of you had been spending a lot of time together, both from him wanting to protect you and him wanting to spend his final days with you

He would be sad to leave you, but he would never forgive himself if he let everyone else idle around and die from starvation

You had been sleeping in your own room most nights, but for some reason, this night you had a feeling of dread you couldn’t shake

So, you head over to Gundham’s room, asking to spend the night with him

He knows his plan is ruined if he lets you, but he doesn’t have the heart to refuse you

So, he lets you stay with him

Cuddling in his bed, he starts to hatch a new plan

One that doesn’t involve him leaving you alone

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Nagito Komaeda

Nagito had everything planned out perfectly

The knife was under the table, the AC and irons were set up, and the lamp

All he had to do was wait

Unfortunately, he didn’t plan on one thing

That was you

When the lights went out before he could lean down and follow the lamp cord, he grabbed onto him, spooked by the sudden blackout

He knew he couldn’t push you off, that would be suspicious, and that would make the trail far too easy

So, he stayed still

Obviously, this was a result of his luck, but he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad

On one hand, it could be seen as good, saving a life

On the other, it meant that hope wouldn’t be able to blossom

He had a lot to think about the next day

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Teruteru Hanamura

He didn’t want to kill anyone

But he also didn’t want Nagito to kill anyone, and with Nagito having revealed his plan to kill someone during the party…Teruteru knew he had to do something

He felt as if he didn’t have a choice

He had to protect them from Nagito’s twisted plan

He had it all planned out, during the blackout he could go under the building, and stab Nagito when he tried to grab the knife

He was the only one in the kitchen, so it would be easy for him to slip away

At least, it would've been

Instead, halfway through the party, you came to the kitchen, deciding to keep him company

The plan slipped his mind at that moment, and he allowed you to sit and watch him do his thing

When the blackout hit, he realized

He couldn’t just leave, and if you did leave you would probably ask where he was going, or maybe ask to come with him…

He had to stay with you

When the lights came back on, an announcement played on the monitors, stating a body had been discovered

Rushing to the dining room, Teruteru’s worst fear was now a reality

Hajime Hinata, dead on the ground, a knife plunged into his chest

[nqueso-emergency]

I wrote this because I needed to get it off my chest. But then I didn't want to put it on my own blog because I didn't want to deal with the discourse. So, I decided to send it to you in the hope you'd put it up.

I've been in many different fandoms, and I think the only fandom where I ever very actively shipped a canon couple was Torchwood. (If there are people not shipping Jack and Ianto, please never tell me.) That means, of course, there were always other LI of my ships to deal with. And somehow, no matter the fandom (NICS, Hawaii 5-0, Sherlock (mostly), Stargate, etc pp) it's always the same: If the fic takes place at a point in canon where one or more people in the desired ship are currently in a relationship usually one of two things happens: 1. The canon LI just doesn't seem to exist in the fic. 2. There is somewhere one line about "Oh, what about Character A?" "Ah, we broke up. No big deal." (And writing this, I'm kinda laughing now about the Buck/Natalia break-up between seasons 6 and 7.)

So, it's very strange and confusing to watch this part of the Buddie fandom that's so enraged about Tommy and has made hating him their whole fandom personality, who instead of doing what's always been done with LIs that were in the way of a ship created this whole subgenre on 9-1-1 fics now whose whole focus is "How do we overcome the obstacle of the unwanted LI to get our ship". (As I write this, there are 800 fics on ao3 tagged with both ships!) Where did the mentality of "ignore the LI in the way of our ship" vanish to? It was there for other LIs of Buck and Eddie in the past, why isn't it there for Tommy? Why can't a multishipper go into the Buddie tag in peace without being slapped in the face with Tommy bashing everywhere? (And why do you have to bash Buck and Eddie, too, while doing so? I know you don't recognize it, but that's what you're doing with many of those takes about the cheating. That's what you are doing every time you make Eddie into a violent caricature just so you have someone who can beat Tommy up.)

The hate against Tommy has a very different quality and edge to it than the hate for other LIs in the past, and this new genre you all created is a huge part of that.

And before anyone starts, yes there are a lot of bashing fics about the other LI. I've read a lot of them. The vast majority of those are not about finding a way to get the LI out of the way for Buddie (especially not by glorifying Buddie cheating on their LIs) They are about exploring little things of the characters people find jarring or exaggerating those things to use as a plot or plot device. (e.g. Ana's ableist take after the whole skateboard incident. Or her unprofessional behavior of flirting with a parent during parent-teacher-conference.)

As for the very worn-out mantra/whine of "Why could I peacefully hate on the female LIs in the past but aren't allowed to do the same with Tommy?" No one would bother you if you stopped pushing your hate on everyone else.

But you're trying to infiltrate every single nook with your hatred because somehow you don't understand while you're entitled to your hate about Tommy, other people are just as equally entitled to their love and appreciation of the character and the representation he provides. It's not just the Buddie tag people are bombarded with your hate in. No matter what tag — Bathena, Henren, Madney, every single character tag — you'll stumble over Tommy hate pretty fast. Because you tag them all if they matter for your post or not. (I mean, you've done that with Buddie in general for years, which also was never okay!) Or find cheap excuses to include them in your post.

People would let you wallow in your hate peacefully if you wouldn't attack anyone who didn't agree with you. Especially those gay and bi men in this fandom who are full of gratefulness and praise for the representation of their lived experiences 9-1-1 has given them through Tommy and Bucktommy. Who've been calling you out for your hateful and phobic behavior because there is no avoiding being confronted with it.

No one would bother you if you wouldn't post public lists of people you plan to bully in the future!

I guess the point of this long-ass rant is: Get in your fucking lane and let everyone else enjoy the fandom, too. Keep your hate where others can avoid it. It's not that difficult. And believing everyone has to agree with you about your hate is a huge red flag.

Perfectly said, anon 👏

"You" = bestie boos btw

[buttsmasher]

Gage (Edited)

Been trying to go through my old stories and slowly re-upload them after I give them a review. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Tags/Warnings: Fag bashing, face farting, willing victim turned to unwilling, asphyxiation by farts, fart torture

Gage is a grade A prick. You pretty much learned that the moment he moved into the house. Your other roommate literally moved out because he couldn’t stand him. The only reason you’ve stayed is because the rent is cheap and the landlord isn’t complete trash. The other reason is that you have a sort of hate crush on Gage.

You understand he’s a prick and he seems like a bit of a fag basher, but dude has a rockin bod. And he has no sense of other people’s personal boundaries. One time when you had friends over, he walked out of his room completely naked to get a beer out of the fridge. Which you didn’t mind too much because you got front row seats to watch his ass jiggle. Your lesbian friends were mortified of course. Especially when he started to shake his hips to make his dick flop around. After that, you’ve all decided to do movie night at their house now to avoid any more incidents.

The other thing about Gage is that he’s a literal gas bomb. The dude is constantly gassy and it may make your dick strain against your shorts when you’re both watching TV and he lifts a leg to let out a massive fart. And look, if you’re secretly there taking quiet inhales of his stinky gas then no one needs to know.

It all comes to a head today though. You keep a journal, and you may or may not have written all your dirty fantasies about Gage in them. Looking back at it, probably not the best idea, but too late to change that now. 

You’re in the kitchen making scrambled eggs when Gage comes into the kitchen. “Good morning.” You mumble to him, not fully expecting an answer. He opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of OJ as he plays on his phone. He laughs at something before walking towards the kitchen table. 

“Hey fart slut, what’s for breakfast?” You freeze. Did he really just say that? He snaps his fingers a couple of times. “Yo, fag, I’m talking to you.” You slowly turn to look at him.

“Uhm, Scr-scrambled eggs?” You don’t know why it came out as a question. 

“Cool, I want cheese on mine.” He doesn’t even look at you as he plays on his phone.

“Oh, uhhh, I didn’t make enough for the both of us.” You look at the pan and push it around. 

“It’s fine, just give me yours.” 

“What?” He locks eyes with you.

“Let me put it another way. Give me your breakfast and I don’t post your dirty fart fantasies online.” You try to stay calm but you’re freaking out. You turn back around fully and focus on finishing the eggs, throwing cheddar cheese on top right before you finish. Your hands are shaking as you plate the food and bring it over to Gage.

“Anything else?” You say nervously placing the food and a fork down in front of him.

“Tabasco.” He doesn’t look up from his phone, you just do as he says. “Sit.” He says as you go to make yourself more scrambled eggs. “I gotta say, you’re pretty nasty. I mean, to like that shit, you gotta have some serious problems.”

“Fuck off.”

“I mean, to want to get on your knees to sniff someone’s dirty ass. That’s some dog level shit.” You watch as he stuffs his mouth with eggs. “Tell me, how are you any better than a dog?”

“You’re an ass.” Your chair groans against the floor as you get up. 

“Sit back down.” Gage says firmly.

“No, fuck you. I don’t have to take this.”

PFFFFFBBRRRFFFFFF

You freeze as Gage rips a five second fart. The smell hits you from where you’re standing. You can hear Gage laughing from behind you and you can’t help the shame that wafts over you. “You’re pathetic. You get one whiff of my ass funk and you can’t walk away.” You take a deep breath and calmly begin to walk to your room. “I have more where that came from, you know?” You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to ignore him. 

PFFFFFF

A high pitched fart hisses from his ass. “See? And they can be up your nose if you ask me nicely.” You’re not even looking at him and you can just see his cocky grin.

“What do you want?” You ask, knowing you’ve already lost.

“Heh, knew it.” You hear his chair scrape against the floor as he gets up. “You just need to beg.” He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Beg your daddy to fart up your nose.” He whispers in your ear.

“You’re an ass.”

“I know.” He turns you around and pushes you down onto your knees. “Beg doggy.” You lock eyes again, completely humiliated on the ground.

“Please, Gage, fart up my nose.” You say without enthusiasm. 

PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

“Fuck, that was a big one you just missed out on. Beg.” You sigh.

“Please daddy, please make me your fart slut.” He laughs.

“Better.” He turns around giving you the view of his brief clad ass. “Get your face in it.” You do as he says, getting a whiff of the lingering scent of the last fart. “Just remember you wanted this.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFF

Airy farts warm your face as your nose gets overwhelmed by the absolutely toxic smell. It’s not like anything you thought it’d be like. “Wait.” You manage to cough out. “Wait stop.” You go to pull away but he holds you firmly in place.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He hikes his leg up slightly.

PFFFFFFFFFFFBBRBRBFFFFFTTTTTT

“Oof, that one’s gonna be bad.” He wasn’t wrong. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you're forced to endure that blast of a ten second fart. It’s absolutely eggy, and your eyes are watering. “Definitely wouldn’t want to be down there. But you’re liking this right fag?” You frantically shake your head no, wanting to pull away. “Aww, I knew you’d love my ass. Here, I’ll blow you a kiss.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFF

Another disgusting fart burns it’s way up your nose and down to your lungs. Your face is extremely warm and you can’t think straight. You strain to pull away from the toxic fumes constantly barraging your face but Gage’s hold is too strong.

PFFFFBRBRBRFFFFFFTTT

“Look, I know my brew is strong, but you’re the one who wanted this. And you begged oh so nicely for daddy to fart in your face. Who am I to get in your way of your dream?”

PFFFF PFF PFFFFFF PFFFFF

“It’s okay, I won’t judge you. Well maybe a little. Only cause you’re a fucked up a fag.” 

PFFBBRRRFFFTTT

It’s getting really hard to breathe down here. The only air you’re getting is Gage’s eggy farts. You’ve begun to uncontrollable cough and gag against his dirty briefs. 

“Man, imagine if I didn’t have these undies on. There’s no way you would survive that.” He laughs as he pulls his tight black briefs under his naked ass.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFF

“Jesus, what did you put in those eggs? I bet you put in some extra fiber didn’t you?” 

“I know I’m a gassy guy, but damn, this is way worse than normal.” 

PFFFFFFFFBBBRRRRRRBRRRRR

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT

Everything is spinning around you and you’re having a hard time staying conscious. 

“Is it everything you hoped for faggot?” 

PFFFFF PFFFFFFFF PFFFFTTT PFFFFF

You feel yourself slump further into his musky ass, no longer able to keep yourself upright. You can hear Gage laughing as everything fades to black. A final fart hits your nose as you finally lose consciousness. “Night night fag.” Gage lets your body hit the floor before leaving you there.

When you awake again, you’re still on the kitchen floor. The smell of Gage’s ass still lingering on you.

[heiayen]

a hug for your worries!🌻 gn!reader x suna rintarou summary🌻your grumbling stomach and toasts you were preparing have to all wait, because you boyfriend came back home in a terrible, sour and horrible mood. but it appears there is a way to fix it... tags🌻prompt used "give me a hug" /drabble. fluff, established relationship, silly banter between reader and suna <3 petnames (reader to suna), also my very first time writing for hq and suna in general so forgive any ooc!! notes 🌻 wow. haikyuu debut. unexpected! also take this as my official writing comeback because i have a few fics more planned! this is technically first part of a short multifandom fluff prompts series! was supposed to be flufftober but i got too impatient and decided to just post fics as i write them! so. expect more. if you're my mutual (it's directed) you are morally obligated to look away 🫵 because i am embarrassed. everyone else enjoy <3

Suna Rintarou had a bad day, and you knew that from the very moment he came back home. 

It was in the way he closed the doors, nearly slamming them which was instantly followed by mumbled cursing (because he really didn't mean to, he was tired and his hand slipped!). In the way you could barely hear his grumbled 'I'm home', or in the way he took off his shoes, put them away, and sighed loudly.

During his little drama show, you just raised your eyebrows in amusement, continuing to prepare food. You figured Rintarou would also want to eat, especially when in such a mood, so you grabbed another piece of bread for an extra toast. Good thing you shared the same taste for what to eat your toasts with...

And soon, you heard footsteps behind. 

"Hi, Rin– ugh, get off of me!" you huffed, barely able to finish the sentence, before you felt his arms wrap around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. In no way you could continue making food with this guy all over you. 

"No."

"Yes!" You slapped his hand with the back of the butter knife handle, but to no avail, for he only dug his chin harder into your shoulder. 

(Which earned him another slap and an annoyed groan from you when it still didn't work.)

"Is this how you treat your boyfriend?" You could hear the pout in his voice, despite not seeing his face. You rolled your eyes.

"Drama queen," you mumbled, pressing a kiss into his hair. "Hi, love. Hard day?"

He hummed in agreement, and you only hummed back, continuing with the food.

"Did someone piss you off during practice?" you asked softly, and Rin shook his head.

"Don' wanna talk about it."

And then, there was a moment of silence and you almost missed his next words, mumbled into your neck.

"...give me a hug?"

You almost rolled your eyes at him (again), ready to remark how you're not only busy, but he's already hugging you, but instead, you turned around in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, returning the hug, and you felt him relax.

You were curious as to what was the cause of his sour mood, because it was somewhat of a rare view of Rintarou, but you didn't push. If he wanted to, he would talk to you, and you would gladly listen to him.

Some seconds more passed before you remembered the poor, abandoned toasts. 

"...how about you go change? And let me finish making food?" you asked, patting him on the shoulder.

"Are you kicking me out," he deadpanned, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at him. How horrible of a person you were for even asking him to leave the kitchen.

"Well, yes." You shrugged, but made no move to actually push him away. "Food won't make itself and I bet you're hungry, so get out." 

"No."

But maybe you should've pushed him, you started to think. It surely wouldn't hurt, pun not intended. 

"Yes, Rin, yes. Out of the kitchen."

"You're horrible," Rintarou sighed heavily, and you groaned, already seeing the direction this conversation was starting to go in. "I'm a suffering man and this is how you act?"

"You're repeating yourself, you asshole." This time you gave into the urge and hit him on his shoulder, earning a very fake sounding 'ouch' from him. "And if you can act all smart with me, then you're fine. Get out!"

That made him huff out a laugh which you took as a good sign, one of Rintarou getting back in a good mood, so you smiled yourself. He moved away from you, just enough to look at you, still keeping his arms wrapped around you, but not for much longer.

Rintarou cupped your cheeks and leaned closer to your face, your foreheads almost touching.

"Absolutely horrible, y'know?" he snickered (the humor in his voice obvious) and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. 

"You looove me anyway,"  you sing-sang, smiling widely. Something appeared in his fox-like eyes after your words, soft and warm, but very quickly, the charm broke.

"Yeah, I do," he said after a moment, quieter. And then added, because it wouldn't be him if he didn't—

"Unfortunately."

You gasped at his words in mock offense, much to his amusement, and pushed at his chest. "You're not getting even a burned toast, Rintarou."

That seemed to work, as he finally moved away from you, frowning at your poor excuse of a threat. He left the kitchen with a few more complaints about you, to which you only waved him a goodbye, have a nice shower, don't slip.

...oh, well, you really should go back to those toasts. 

[tibbythetiger]

Okay, so what I’m thinking is that Mike is a BoyFailure™️, he’s probably worked at every single place in town, or at the very least tried. I’m imagining, in his large job pursuit, he had a brief stint working at Sparky’s. This is how he and Ness meet, I imagine at first they start Mike out as a server, so he’s being trained by Ness. Ness, who yes, Mike thinks grudgingly, is kinda cute, if not mostly annoying (the guy never stops talking) and meanwhile, Ness is just enamored with someone who just lets him talk (again, he never really stops.) Over the course, of his training, Mike decides that maybe Ness is a little more cute and funny, than annoying, but decides not to bother even trying anything. He knows he’s a mess, and he has Abby (not to mention, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be a server here for much longer, because as nice as Ness is, Mike cannot seem to pick up an ounce of that when he’s speaking to customers). They eventually do decide, that Mike cannot handle being around customers, and decide to put him in the kitchen, much to everyone else who works at the diner’s chagrin, because at this point, Ness has decided he also thinks that Mike is cute and kinda funny when he lets himself talk to people. A Ness with a crush is loud, flirty, easily flustered, and always in Mike’s space. This means Ness is always in the kitchen, and his service starts to slack, coupling that with the fact that Mike cannot seem to cook anything without starting it on fire (or worse, injuring himself) Sparky’s sadly lets him go. Ness is devastated, as Mike is cagey about personal details, and won’t give out his phone number so he’s sure he’ll never see him again. Because he’s overdramatic, he’s moping around the diner for weeks afterward; then he walks out one day to serve a table. It’s a cute little girl, sitting by herself drawing a picture. Ness is great with kids, and it’s obvious she’s probably waiting for someone in the bathroom, so he strikes up a conversation with her, even making her laugh when lo and behold, who sits down but his long lost love, Mike. At first, Ness is shocked, because surely this means that Mike was kinda shutting him down before because he’s straight, or maybe in a long-term relationship. But still, he bucks up, takes their order and as the two are leaving he tells Mike he makes a pretty cute kid. (Mike and Abby react pretty similarly to this as they did when Vanessa thought they were parent/child) From then on, Abby and Mike end up becoming regulars, and Abby adores Ness. He’s one of the few people she’ll talk to, and once she even draws him a picture of him, she and Mike (Ness and Mike both try to act like this is not a Big Deal, despite Ness framing it in his apartment)  Mike and Ness still lowkey flirt, and even exchange phone numbers (for Abby, is Mike’s reasoning, but Ness is so overjoyed he just brushes away the very flimsy excuse) As the events of the movie take place, and with Mike’s new schedule, they’re unable to stop in, and only exchange a few phone calls. (Ness does overhear the conversation with Jan, Max and her brother, he leaves vm, after vm for Mike but he never sees them, and then Jan deletes them when she’s at the house) I also am assuming that the diner is 24hrs, and Ness is one of the few servers, so he’s unable to watch Abby to keep the original plot of the movie progressing the same.  

That’s what I got for now!! I’m coming to visit this again and add some more for post-movie development, or maybe write this out as an actual fic!! If someone decides to write this themselves, please feel free to, just credit me and tag me in it so I can read it!! <3

[hereghostslive]

WIP Wednesday

thanks for the tag @carlos-in-glasses !!

yesterday I mentioned reapers and Tommy kinard, so here's some of it. I was going to wait until it was all finished to post but my sister is dragging me a long to lots of places today so I want have time to work on it.

trigger warning, but this does involve major character death for Tommy, although I don't want to totally bum everyone out so I will say it's temporary ... but we're definitely playing in this supernatural realm for a bit though. But this is definitely a Tommy Learns To Fight For His Own Happiness kinda fic.

--

Tommy never makes it to 2025. 

He knows this because he remembers the clock sitting at 11:59 p.m. when the semi hit his truck on New Years Eve. He supposes he could have still been alive while they tried to free him from his car, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Tommy as he was, a person of mediocre value that held some mildly interesting presences in other people’s lives, was already gone. 

It just took his brain waves a few minutes to follow the rest of him into death. 

But they eventually made it there. 

So when he was fully dead, that was that. Life, completed. 

Was it satisfying? It had its moments, Tommy supposes. 

Did he have any regrets? Well, obviously. Who doesn’t? 

Did he have any unfinished business they should be aware of? I don’t – Wait, what do you —

“— mean by ‘they’?”

Tommy pauses, startled by the sudden sound of his own voice. He looks around but all he can see is a milky sort of darkness, rippling around him like waves in the ocean. If he looks too hard, he starts feeling dizzy, so he turns forward again, and then realizes he’s sitting on one side of a desk. On the other side is a figure of some indistinguishable shape. 

So? It asks. 

Tommy doesn’t see anything he can classify as a mouth move when the shape talks but he hears a voice all the same. 

Tommy clears his throat. “So, what?” 

Is there any unfinished business they should be aware of? 

Tommy’s hit with blue eyes and startled heartbreak, the sound of a door falling closed behind him. And him, the one who locked it and threw away the key. 

He shakes his head. “No. No unfinished business.” 

Good, the shape says. Your processing is complete. Someone will come to collect you soon. 

The shape disappears, there one second and gone the next before Tommy can even blink. 

And just like that, he’s alone. 

Dead, and alone. 

Happy fucking New Year to him. 

–

“Soon” turns out to be … well, Tommy’s not sure how long he’s been here. Somewhere between five seconds and five months sounds accurate to him. Though, does time even exist when you’re dead? 

He looks around him again, but the only thing he sees is that rippling sort of milky darkness. There’s no sound, either. And there doesn’t appear to be anyone else here, no other souls waiting to be … collected? That’s what the shape said, he thinks, however long ago it was that it said that. 

Tommy was never religious so he never really put a lot of thought into what happens after you die. If this is it, he can’t decide if people will be pleased with the answer that obviously something exists or unsatisfied with the result. Then again, nothing ever really turns out the way we want them too. 

As much as Tommy can guess, this is a waystation between the newly dead, and wherever it is you go after that. Whatever questioning he just completed must be part of the deciding factor. 

He wonders if he should be worried about the result but being dead kind of takes away all your worries. He’s not at peace, he doesn’t think, but maybe that part is what comes next. 

--

no pressure tagging: @liminalmemories21 @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @thisbuildinghasfeelings @cecilyv

@alrightbuckaroo @whatsintheboxmh @firstprince-history-huh @carlos-tk

some other bucktommy folks: @leashybebes @screamlet @alchemistc @beanarie @vamphours

[crownpastelyellow]

So I wrote something for the Solidaritek football AU @bidoofenergy has made because I have been severely unwell about them.

I recommend reading through the posts before reading this but it also works without prior knowledge of anything.

On my knees for you

Pairing: Solidaritek

Tags and Warnings: Smut, Age Gap, Oral Sex, Mild Voyerism, Mutual Pining

Length: 6.5k words

Summary: Tango is a retired football (soccer) player who now works as a sports commentator/interviewer and Jimmy is a popular football player. After spending way too long pining after each other they finally get it on.

A/N: Also fair warning, I do not know much about football. I am not a sports person. Touch this with a good amount of suspension of disbelief please. I just got too unwell about them and it needed an outlet <3

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut

Jimmy’s crush on Tango has slowly been escalating and he is very sure that the tension has been building between the two of them. 

It started with conversations before interviews and Jimmy smiling brightly at Tango, whenever they crossed paths. Then it turned into accidental touches, bumping into one another on occasion and, much to the dismay of Jimmy’s teammates, he had not shut up for weeks after Tango once grabbed his arm to pull him out of the way from someone.

At this point, Jimmy can’t deny that he craves more, so he started hanging around after interviews whenever he could, he learned all about Tango’s career, and tried his hardest to memorize anything that could make him stand out to Tango when their work made them cross paths.

But so far, luck was strictly against Jimmy. Whenever he decided to build up the courage to talk to Tango there was always some sort of interruption and he never got more than a few words in, in private.

Today though, might be Jimmy’s lucky day; they were the last ones in the interview room, Jimmy just awkwardly hanging around as Tango picks up some of his notes, not aware of the other one still in the room.

This is Jimmy’s chance. Grian was not here to make fun of him for being a mess around Tango, his coach had already left and nobody else could demand Tango’s attention. No, today he would be cool and charm the commentator with… Something. He can figure it out along the way. Maybe he could just ask Tango out for a drink, or he could- “Oh, hey, Jimmy, you’re also still here.” Tango says, smiling at Jimmy, instantly making him forget anything he had planned on saying.

And from there it only just gets worse. “You did well out there today”, Tango casually praises Jimmy, whose mouth opens and closes again till he eventually lets out a “Thanks”, that is just a bit too strangled, earning a chuckle from the other man who isn’t even looking at Jimmy anymore, more focused on his bag and papers.

As Tango finishes packing up, Jimmy shakes his head to get out of his stupor. If he doesn’t shoot his shot now, he might miss yet another chance. Jimmy makes his way towards the other man, a confident grin on his face. He just needs to be smooth now.

“Hey, Tango,I really enjoyed the interview today, your questions are always the best. I wanted to ask -” Jimmy says, the words coming out just a little bit too quickly, and he walks with just a little bit too much bounce in his step. His foot catches on a cable that wasn’t properly covered up, and he trips, his large frame falling right into Tango’s arms, who, to Jimmy’s absolute delight, manages to catch him with ease.

Jimmy is too awestruck at being so close to Tango, feeling his strong arms around his torso, to consider being embarrassed, or to move away. Instead he just looks up at Tango, unable to tear his gaze away from his lips.

“Careful there, buddy” Tango says with a laugh but Jimmy can see the other man gulp.

Maybe, just maybe, Jimmy hasn’t fucked this whole thing up just yet.

If this doesn’t work out how he imagines that he is going to be in deep shit but Jimmy cannot stop himself at this point.

As he closes his eyes, not wanting to see a potential expression of dread on Tango’s face, he finds his footing again and leans himself up again, just enough so that his lips meet Tango’s.

For a moment, Jimmy is convinced that he has just made a huge mistake, one that could, in the worst case, affect his whole career. A mistake he made because he was thinking with his dick again instead of -

Tango kisses him back.

At first the movement of his lips is barely noticeable to Jimmy who was so focused on how warm Tango is, how his beard tickles against Jimmy’s face and how strong his arms are. 

Jimmy might be a little bit overeager at this point, but he leans further in. Standing up straight now, Tango’s arms still remain wrapped around him, Jimmy is a bit more than a head taller now but still leaning down into the kiss.

His heart is pounding in his chest and Jimmy doesn’t know what to do with his hands, his brain short-circuiting, but when they find Tango’s body, they instantly begin to wander.

——————————————————————————————————

They know they can’t stay in the small interview room, too many people might walk in, with all the equipment that is still in here.

“Locker room” Jimmy mumbles into a kiss, and a few seconds later they part, and Tango sees the way Jimmy’s eyes are lit up with excitement. 

The locker room isn’t far and it should most definitely be empty by now. They part just long enough, just in case somebody else decided to stick around here, to hurry through the hallway, Jimmy eagerly pulling Tango along who is equally stunned and amused.

Jimmy looks back at Tango with his brown eyes, almost like a puppy begging for a treat and Tango feels his heart melt at the sight.

The second the door closes behind them, Jimmy presses his lips against Tango’s, pushing his back against the door. Tango kisses back instantly, parting his lips with a small smirk, as he lets Jimmy eagerly explore. 

He has been driving Tango insane with his smile, his charisma and just his energy in the plenty of interviews they’ve had at this point. And Tango had wanted this, had kicked himself for craving this for longer than he wants to admit.

But he isn’t pushing Jimmy away now. No one in their right mind would push Jimmy Solidarity away if he kisses them like this.

Tango pushes back into the kiss, pushing himself off and away from the door, not wanting to jinx the most awkward accident imaginable, should somebody come in here after all. Not that any other alternative of someone walking in on them would be much better, but Tango decides not to think about those possibilities right now.

They part but only for a moment before Tango finds himself between the side of a locker and Jimmy, who is currently pressing one leg right between Tangos, his thigh just brushing against him just right and Tango already has to bite back a groan.

It doesn’t help when Jimmy trails open mouthed kisses alongside his jaw.

Tango leans further against the wall for support, letting Jimmy kiss his neck with a hunger that surprises him.

He still does not understand what someone like Jimmy wants from someone like him, but for once he decides not to question his luck.

With eager hands Jimmy starts pulling Tango’s polo shirt up slightly, and as one hand explores Tango’s stomach, traveling all the way up over his chest, his other hand starts to undo Tango’s belt.

For a moment Tango is so taken aback by how skilled and practiced Jimmy’s movements are, but after a second or two he gathers himself, placing a hand on Jim’s wrist, immediately stopping the younger one in his eagerness. 

Of course, Jimmy immediately backpedals, stopping, trying to pull back but Tango’s hands remain on his wrists, not letting him remove them either. “Jim, I… Are you sure you want this?” He asks, clearly nervous. More nervous than Jimmy, who’s hands seem to just want to keep moving.

“What? Of course Tango.” Then after a moment he adds “I wanted this for so long. Gosh, Tango, I have been thinking about this for way too long” Jimmy admits and Tango can see his face flush, see the way it spreads past the collar of his shirt and Tango needs to close his eyes. But that only ends up making it worse, his imagination now running wild. Jimmy has been thinking about him? About this?

He almost wants to ask, wants to know what exactly Jimmy has been fantasizing about.

Instead, Tango decides not to push his luck further today. He just needs to make sure that this is really what Jim wants and not something he’ll end up regretting.

“Are you-” Jimmy immediately interrupts him. 

“Yes, Tango. Please, I just, I just want this. I want you.” Jimmy looks down at Tango with pleading eyes, his tone just edging on being whiny. Tango goes weak in the knees at the sight.

Here is this handsome, fit, young man, practically begging for him. Slowly he lets go of Jimmy’s wrists, letting his hands trail slightly up his arms, giving Jimmy a confirming nod.

Tango is still conflicted, of course. He can never really turn his brain off and now is no different. What does Jimmy want with someone like him? Of course, he shouldn’t complain, should just give in but… Tango isn’t exactly in his 20s anymore. His body, while still fit for his age, shows that. And he is not exactly one for random flings anymore, he doesn’t even really remember how long it has been since the last time he did something this spontaneous. 

Of course he’d want more from this, in the best case, but now is not exactly the time to ask for that. He closes his eyes again, unable to stifle the sigh that escapes his lips as Jimmy finally undoes the zipper of his pants. 

Tango leans back, the metal of the locker cold against the back of his shirt that Jimmy is still pulling up.

With his head leaning back, Tango lets out a shaky breath. He can already feel his dick harden inside his pants even if, despite Jimmy’s eagerness, he hasn’t even touched Tango yet.

Jimmy slowly, very slowly, sinks down to his knees, hands on Tango's waist to steady himself. Even on his knees, brown eyes looking up at him, he seems tall. Tango can’t help but stare at him like this, broad shoulders, strong arms, tousled hair and he knows that he needs to see more.

With slightly shaky hands, he grabs Jimmy’s shirt at his shoulders and gently tugs on it, begging silently to remove it, but he waits, patiently, for Jimmy to react.

Jimmy does not have the same patience apparently, quickly pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it into some corner of the room with little regard.

Tango’s eyes travel over his broad, slightly tanned shoulders, the definition of his muscles, and Tango can see them work as Jimmy’s hands trail over his lower body, slowly pulling his pants down till they pool at his ankles.

Despite Jimmy’s clear impatience, he looks up at Tango, while hooking his fingers under the waistband, slightly tugging it down, thumb brushing over the dark blond hairs that trail down below. 

Tango wants this, wants this more than anything, so he pushes his concerns away, his hand finding Jimmy’s hair, tugging on it just a little. The moan Jimmy lets out at this is making Tango throb, and he pulls just a little bit harder, pulls his face a little bit closer to his crotch, which only earns him more of those beautiful noises. It feels addicting, like he needs more, more of Jimmy.

“Please” Tango manages, his raspy voice cracking slightly as his breathing already grows heavier in anticipation. 

And Jimmy doesn’t need to hear that twice, quickly pulling down the boxers. He can see Jimmy eye him, his brown eyes large, lips parted just slightly as his face is so close to Tango’s member.

Tango is slightly nervous, having someone like Jimmy so close to himself. He knows he’s not anything impressive, that he isn’t Jimmy’s age anymore, and that it shows. Despite being fit, his body has gone soft. But with Jimmy looking up at him like that, he might almost feel as beautiful as Jim is.

Jimmy’s warm breath ghosts over him, causing Tango to shudder, knees buckling slightly. Immediately, Jimmy’s hands grab his waist just a little bit firmer. He lets the touch ground him, but it is only a momentary respite before he feels the warmth of Jimmy’s mouth on him. Tango feels like he might pass out from how warm and wet it is and the tightness of his lips wrapped around his tip.

Already Tango has to keep himself from bucking his hips forward, not wanting to overwhelm Jimmy, but the younger man takes notice and  greedily takes more of him, sinking down onto him until Tango can feel himself press against the back of Jimmy’s throat, while letting out a strangled gasp.

Jimmy stays still for a moment and looks up at Tango and he can’t help but throb in his mouth, precum leaking from his tip.

“Jimmy” Tango groans, his voice high pitched and raspy, pulling slightly tighter on the blonde hair, as if it were a lifeline.

The way Jimmy hums around him has Tango already on edge and he knows he won’t last long, not with how Jimmy looks up at him, moves his tongue around his member, and takes him just a little bit deeper, occasionally closing his eyes, as if Tango were the most delicious thing he ever tasted.

When Jimmy pulls back, not fully but just enough to sink himself down on Tango again, his lips still firmly wrapped around his member, Tango can’t hold his noises, panting back anymore.

Tango can’t help himself, as he feels his orgasm build and build, until he feels like he’s about to spill. “Jimmy, I’m gonna -” He tries to pull Jimmy off, not wanting to make him swallow like this, but Jimmy has other plans, his tongue licking along the underside of Tango's shaft as much as he can while trying to take him even deeper, nose brushing against Tango’s abdomen.

Tango didn’t plan on cumming down Jim’s throat. He didn’t plan on any of this in the first place.

It was an idea he entertained before, on some lonely nights, when he couldn’t stop thinking about Jimmy’s bright smile, his stupidly beautiful brown eyes, thinking about a sight much like the one right in front of him. But this was better than he could have imagined it.

Tango can’t help but let out a few indecent grunts, mixed with a sigh, as he feels his orgasm wash over him. He can’t handle the sight in front of him, the way Jimmy smiles with his eyes, still looking up at him. Tango wants to look away, he really does, but he can’t tear his gaze from him, not wanting to miss a single second of this. 

Tango is quite certain he hadn’t cum this hard in years, mostly just taking care of his needs as they arose, but this is something he didn’t even consider again, for the longest time.

He sinks against the wall, leans his head against the cool metal of the locker and shuts his eyes, his breath coming out heavy and his hand still buried in Jimmy’s hair, not holding him down. No, Jimmy is staying in place of his own volition as Tango softens in his mouth, still surrounded by the warmth.

Gently, he strokes Jimmy’s hair, still reeling from the intense pleasure, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face before daring to look at him again.

It takes everything in Tango to remain standing up, especially when Jimmy starts trailing one of his hands along his thigh, grabbing gently at it. Of course Tango is still fit, still muscular, just because he is retired from playing football professionally, doesn’t mean he isn’t still playing and especially his legs show that.

“Jim” Tango groans, his voice cracking again slightly and in other circumstances he might be embarrassed about it but right now he can’t find it in him to care.

Not when Jimmy’s hand travels lower, gently brushing up and down his calf as if he were admiring the muscle in it. That thought, mixed with the warmth of Jimmy’s mouth and his hand trailing up and down his leg, cause Tango to let out another high pitched noise.

Again, Tango repeats “Jim”, as it is getting too much for him. He needs to breathe, he needs to just… Sit down for a second.

With a gentle push he moves Jimmy's head back, guiding him off his cock, which is now glistening with Jimmy’s saliva and the bits of his release that Jimmy hadn’t managed to swallow down immediately and this time Tango needs to avert his gaze.

“This was…” Tango tries but starts again “Jimmy this is… You are…” His thoughts are still all over the place, unable to focus on anything coherent. Or better said, he can’t focus on anything but Jimmy and the way he is looking at him.

“I think I need to sit down” he eventually manages to get out alongside a desperate and shaky laugh.

Before Tango can even try to pull his pants back up, Jimmy is already at it, and their hands brush against each other as Tango grabs onto the fabric of the jeans to pull it up the rest of the way and fasten the belt again. It feels weirdly intimate, despite what they just did and Tango finds himself just wanting to hold onto Jimmy’s hands, to just not let go.

Instead though, he just extends his hand to Jimmy.

Tango can't help but think of the first time they met, the way Jimmy was still so awkward and new to the entire interview scene, the way he slumped onto the floor once they were finished.

Tango doesn’t remember much about that interview, how long ago that even was or why Jimmy even fell off the couch in the first place.

What he does remember though, is the way Jimmy had looked up at him with his large brown eyes as he pulled him to his feet again.

Tango is afraid he is in this position for far too long, so he helps Jimmy up with ease and proceeds to sit down on one of the benches right next to them, leaning back against the locker behind him.

“This was amazing, Jimmy. You are amazing” Tango rasps as he tries to calm his pounding heart, giving Jimmy an encouraging smile.

With his eyes closed once more, Tango doesn’t see Jimmy’s face flush as a bright, goofy smile finds its way onto his lips, or the way Jimmy stares at him absolutely starstruck.

When Tango opens his eyes again he sees Jimmy bend down to pick up his discarded shirt, and he can’t look away from the way his back looks as he moves.

Tango wants nothing more than to return the favor immediately.

“Jimmy” his voice still sounds breathless, “Come here”, he requests gently.

And of course Jimmy is right there, not even bothering to put the shirt on again. Instead he lets Tango pull him onto the bench so he straddles his lap. Tango has to crane his neck up to meet Jimmy’s gaze, his lips, as they meet his.

This time it is Tango’s hands that wander over Jimmy’s ribs, his abs, his arms, his back, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss until Jimmy lets a soft moan slip out and it only encourages Tango more, now needing to know what other noises Jim can make for him. 

As he plays with the waistband of Jimmy’s shorts, just about to pull them down when it is now Jimmy’s turn to stop him. “Tango, Tango, I haven’t showered yet. I don’t wanna do that to you” He laughs and Tango can only stare up at him and nod with a weak “Oh, yeah okay”, earning another laugh. Of course he heard Jimmy laugh before, a million times it feels, with how charismatic he gives himself in the interviews nowadays, but never like this. 

They both look at each other for a moment before Jimmy leans in with a smirk “Care to join me?” and Tango forgets how to breathe for a second before he manages to get out a quiet, barely there “yes” 

Tango knows he’s behaving like a lovestruck teenager right now but when Jimmy looks at him like this, he can’t help himself.

Now both of them move eagerly towards the shower, just out of view from the empty locker room, as neither of them can take their hands off each other.

Jimmy is immediately eager to help Tango out of his red polo shirt, tugging the red fabric over his head, as Tango kicks his shoes off. Quickly his pants follow suit, Jimmy fiddling with his belt again as their lips meet. Tango blindly tries to pull Jimmy’s pants down but brushes accidentally over his already very prominent length. This causes Jimmy to gasp right into Tango’s mouth, all while pressing further against his lips, clearly wanting more.

Tango tries, just for a moment, to tease him more, to get more of these delicious noises out of Jimmy, but both of them are getting too impatient as to draw this out any longer.

Soon enough, they’re both undressed and Jimmy turns around to turn the water on, only for Tango to immediately step up behind him, strong arms wrapping around his torso, as he hugs Jimmy from behind, pressing open mouthed kisses against his shoulder, causing Jimmy to freeze, before he even manages to turn the water on.

Tango smiles against his skin, trying to reach out and around Jimmy, hand placed on his, on the faucet and without much thinking, he turns the water on.

Immediately hot water splashes both of them, right onto Jimmy’s shoulder and square into Tango’s face, causing him to yelp in panic for a moment.

Jimmy quickly moves so the water isn’t pelting Tango right in the face, but Tango just wants to bury his head into Jimmy’s shoulder in embarrassment. Of course, for once he tried to be cool and collected around Jimmy, which was already hard enough considering everything about him, only for something to go wrong.

Tango lets out a laugh, the heat in his face rising but then he sees Jimmy turn towards him and his bright, slightly crooked grin turns into laughter too. But not at Tango, not making fun of him, but with him.

And when Jimmy tries to tilt his head upwards, of course Tango looks at him and gets lost in his eyes.

Jimmy wants to say something but Tango can only focus on his lips and how they were wrapped around him just a few minutes ago, so before any word can come out, Tango kisses Jimmy again, eager to repay the favor as the hot water runs over them.

While Jimmy’s hands roam Tango’s body with a vigorous hunger, Tango carefully brushes his over Jimmy’s body, calloused hands cleaning his skin, while slowly trailing lower and lower.

Their bodies are pressed against one another, and Tango can’t help but press kisses all over Jimmy’s skin. He can see him shiver when his beard scratches against Jimmy’s throat as he trails down from his jaw, causing Tango to smile into each kiss.

Jimmy bucks his hips against Tango, his member already hard and Tango cautiously reaches out, studying Jimmy’s every expression to make sure he doesn’t overstep. But Jimmy has his eyes pressed shut, head tilted backwards just the slightest bit as he bites down on his lips as he is struggling to keep quiet.

“I want to hear you, please” Tango whispers, some of the guilt still gnawing at him. What is he doing here? What is he doing here with Jimmy? 

But seeing his expressions it is clear that Jimmy enjoys this as much as Tango does, if not more. And who is Tango to leave Jimmy unsatisfied after he already got on his knees for him;

Tango is not planning on leaving Jimmy unsatisfied.

“It’s okay. We’re alone here.” He reassures, as if that’s what Jimmy would be worried about.

He picks up his pace and asks again, this time just with another raspy “Please” murmured into Jimmy’s built chest. Tango can’t look at him for too long like this, his mind and body still reeling from his own release just minutes ago.

Jimmy’s lips part and the moans flow freely now, drawing Tango's gaze up. He presses another kiss on the corner of Jimmy’s mouth as his hand keeps moving in a steady rhythm, making sure that he's wrapped around Jimmy just tight enough. 

He can feel Jimmy eagerly fuck forwards into his fist with desperation, the need for more apparent in his movements and the few moans that the sound of running water didn't fully drown out. 

Tango can’t take his eyes off Jimmy, studying his expression and with the tousled wet hair he looks even more beautiful, his cheeks flushed, panting out Tango's name. 

No one should have to be subjected to such a sight. Ever.

Tango can feel his own member slowly starting to harden again but he ignores it, wanting to focus solely on Jimmy now. 

He presses more kisses onto his jaw, and down his throat, burying his face in Jimmy's shoulder for a moment as he stops his hand from moving, just to feel Jimmy desperately bucking his hips to find more friction, his moans getting needier and needier. “Tango. Please. Tango, please I need-”he pants. 

Normal Tango might have tried to make him spell it out but the slight whine in Jimmy's voice has him give in instantly. He cannot say no to him, to the way that Jimmy's moans beg him to keep going, like a puppy asking for treats. 

But instead of moving his hand again, Tango holds the base of Jimmy's shaft in his fist while getting on his knees. 

Jimmy has half a mind to turn the water off, so Tango doesn't get hit in the face again when Jimmy leans back against the cool tiles of the communal showers, groaning at the cold sensation on his back.

Tango kneels before Jimmy who is towering over him entirely now. How can he be so ridiculously tall? How can he still look so ridiculously handsome from down here? Maybe even more handsome, with the slight flush spreading over his torso, his member now standing right in front of Tango's face. 

Almost immediately, a hand finds itself on the back of Tango's head, pushing him forward towards where Jimmy's tip is already eager, leaking slightly.

Trying not to get lost in the sight, Tango focuses on gently licking along its underside, all the way to the tip, pressing an open mouthed kiss on it, that practically invites Jimmy to buck his hips forwards, the younger one clearly not patient enough for this.

“Oh God - sorry, Tango, I'm sorry, I - “ Any apology is instantly getting swallowed by a moan, as Tango starts moving the hand on Jimmy's shaft, jerking him off into his mouth.

Tango knows that there is no way he can do what Jimmy did for him earlier, and he's still thinking about it, and he knows he won’t be able to ever stop thinking about it either for a long while. 

There is an eager stutter to Jimmy's hips and Tango can tell just how much he is trying to hold back, can feel it in the way Jimmy's hands keep wandering away from the back of his neck, to being on Tango's shoulder, to one hanging in tense fists next to Jimmy, the other splayed on the cool tiles behind him. 

Right as Jimmy was about to ask Tango to take him just the slightest bit deeper, hand on his neck again, the door to the locker room opened and both men froze up instantly. Jimmy had half a mind to turn the shower next to them on, hoping the sounds would muffle any other noises. 

“Jimmy, can you hurry up? How long are you still gonna take here? We've been waiting forever“, Joel's voice sounds through the locker room, clearly annoyed. 

Tango wants to pull himself off Jimmy's cock, but the hand at the back of his head applies gentle pressure, keeping him in place. When Tango looks up and their eyes meet he can see Jimmy whisper a silent “Please”, face still flushed and traces of pleasure apparent. 

“Ye-Yeah I'll be out in a bit. Just gotta finish showering. Why, why are you and Grian still waiting?” Jimmy asks, hoping he comes across normal enough. 

He can hear the frustration in Joel's voice “Jim, we've had plans to grab drinks tonight. Can you stop drooling over that guy for one second and actually pay attention.” A locker opens and ruffling noises sound. Tango remains unmoving but prays that Joel won’t come in here, won’t notice what is happening.

If Jimmy's face was flushed before, he was now closer in shade to a tomato. 

“Shit” Jimmy stammers as Tango shifts slightly, but Joel doesn't seem to notice the cause. “Oh gosh that was today? I'm sorry, I can't, something came up and-”

“I swear Jimmy, if you're ditching us again just to learn, what was it? Football stats,” Joel says in a high-pitched voice mocking Jimmy's, “just to get your dick wet, I'm gonna actually punch you.” Joel threatens, still audibly rummaging in his locker. 

It doesn't escape Tango how Jimmy's grasp has become just a little bit firmer on him and how he is twitching in Tango's mouth. 

Jimmy is actively avoiding Tango's gaze, looking anywhere but at the man on his knees for him and Tango isn't quite sure if it is out of embarrassment or something else but he gets his answer when precum coats his tongue, Jimmy's breath hitching as he tries to remain steady enough to reply. 

“No, no, Joel, I just… I just forgot about an appointment I had. Norman… I have to bring him to the vet, for a checkup.” Jimmy stammers his weak lie, the best he could come up with given his situation. It doesn't help that Tango slowly starts moving his hand again, a careful eye on Jimmy's expression, nervously trying not to misinterpret the situation but it seems like he was spot on. Jimmy's hips start moving again.

“A checkup at the vets? At 8pm on a Friday? Jim, you absolute idiot. But yeah, go home and jerk off to your Tango or something. But you're paying for the first round next week.” Joel gives him a dry laugh, locker door slamming shut and after a few moments his steps leave the room entirely, the heavy door falling shut.

Jimmy is now painfully hard and leaking, not able to hide from Tango, just how much this interaction had worked him up. Finally he lets Tango pull himself off his leaking tip, catching his breath, but his hand still keeps moving as he looks up at Jimmy.

“So… Football stats to get your dick wet, huh?” Tango asks with a smirk. 

Tango already had a hunch, that Jimmy didn’t actually know much about the statistical side of his job, despite being an excellent player, at least at the beginning of his career. It comes naturally to some and less to others and there's no shame in it. But there is shame in how endearing it had been to Tango, to see the effort Jimmy put into learning about these things.

And to know now, that he did it to impress Tango was a heady feeling he dared not to think about too much, at least not right now.

What had he done to have this puppy of a man be infatuated with him? It is both pure bliss and absolute torture simultaneously. 

Tango tries to just turn his head off for once and it comes easier when Jimmy whines out his name again in a desperate plea. 

Of course Tango's hand picks up speed and of course Tango's lips wrap around the leaking member again.

He wants nothing more than to make Jimmy the happiest he can be in this moment and it doesn't take long for Tango to succeed. 

In a frantic, desperate motion, Jimmy pulls Tango off of himself, not having even a second to warn him, before spurts of release get shot across Tango's face, some landing in his beard and a lot of it on his glasses.

Jimmy looks like he's about to apologize as he's but Tango just looks up at him and laughs “Hey, at least we're already in the shower” studying Jimmy from this view one last time before taking his glasses off and standing up, feeling Jimmy's gaze on him the entire time. 

This seems to ease Jimmy’s own worries slightly, his face more flushed than tomato colored now and his parted lips slowly turning into a goofy smile. And before Tango can wipe any of the cum off his face Jimmy energetically pulls him in for a kiss, even more enthusiastic than before.

Tango can’t help but be endeared by him, Jimmy’s energy being infectious enough to make him forget how his knees ache from being on the tiled floor for too long.

“Lets get cleaned up, alright?” Tango laughs as they both bask in each other's presence under the hot water.

——————————————————————————————————

Jimmy throws Tango one of his spare towels once they are done and asks, as casually as he can, “Can we go out? For drinks? Tonight?” It comes off as a little bit desperate so he adds, “If you don’t have anything planned.” That is not making it any better.

Tango finishes drying off, tossing the towel back to Jimmy who catches it with ease, shooting Jimmy a smile as he puts his pants back on. “Thought you had a vet appointment? Norman was your cat right?” And Jimmy wants to sink to his knees again almost instantly. He remembers the name of his cat? But before Jimmy can point that out or even just nervously laugh at Tango’s joke, the man continues. “Or are you just ditching your teammates to go spend time with some old guy, trying to impress him by talking about football stats, huh?”

Jimmy wants to sink into the floor and never emerge again. He might need to strangle Joel tomorrow, couldn’t his timing have been any worse?

No, what actually is worse is how much Jimmy enjoyed it. The mixture between the panic of getting caught, the embarrassment of getting called out like this right in front of Tango and just the feeling of Tango himself. 

Jimmy shakes his head, focusing on drying off again. He hasn’t even put his pants back on again, he can’t already beg Tango for more.

He realizes he hasn’t replied and has now just been staring at Tango in silence for a few moments, watching him fasten his belt again and reaching for his shirt. 

Jimmy only manages an awkward stammer in reply.

He is sure that he’s messed this up again, his one chance, when Tango chuckles, looking at Jimmy, walking closer to him, while only being shirtless.

“We can go out, sure.” Tango grins, placing a hand on Jimmy’s arm. “Come on then, get dressed” He teases at Jimmy’s state of undress, but Jimmy interrupts Tango before he can put his own shirt on, with another kiss. 

——————————————————————————————————

Grian and Joel are sitting around a table with a few other teammates they would consider friends, each slowly sipping at their drinks, eyes fixed on the bar nearby where they see Jimmy, who is clearly not taking his cat for a routine checkup on a Friday night, and Tango who has his back to them.

Both seem engrossed in their conversation but the two can only overhear occasional tidbits from Jimmy, his volume control even more questionable than usual when he is around Tango.

“I genuinely can’t believe this. How did Timmy manage that?” Grian asks, pinching the skin between his eyebrows as he sighs.

“No idea. Maybe he finally stopped bringing up -” Joel wants to reply but Jimmy’s laughter echoes way too loud through the bar, but neither of the men seem to be aware of it.

Joel groans instead of finishing his sentence, emptying his drink.

——————————————————————————————————

The next day before practice, Jimmy can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday, right here where he is sitting in the locker room, the way he was on his knees in front of Tango, how he sat on his lap, how his lips felt on his. Oh, he would go on his knees again and again for Tango in a heartbeat.

Jimmy was so lost in his daydreams that he did not notice Joel entering, immediately kicking at Jimmy’s shin, ripping him out of his thoughts about the wonderful sounds Tango made for him yesterday.

“How was Norman?” Joel asks in a mocking tone.

“Norman?” Jimmy asks back, confused. His mind is filled with many things but none of them help him figure out why Joel is talking about his cat.

Grian joins the team in the locker room, immediately heading past Jimmy to his own locker, not sparing him a single glance. “Tim, next time you’re getting your dick wet, please just come up with a better excuse”

Jimmy stammers, right. “I didn’t mean to ditch you guys, sorry” Jimmy says and he means it. 

“Whatever, next one’s on you” Joel shrugs before sitting down in front of his own locker, kicking his shoes off.

“How do you guys even know about this?” Jimmy asks, fearing for the worst. They couldn’t have actually heard them in here yesterday, right? Joel would have said something right then and there and Jimmy would never live that down.

Grian has the most exasperated look on his face, tired of dealing with this “Jimmy. You guys quite literally went to the bar that we were supposed to go to yesterday, after ditching us.”

A weak ”Oh.” is all Jimmy can manage.

“Oh Tango, please tell me more. Oh Tango, can you tell me about the Olympics again” Joel mocks Jimmy in a high pitched voice, causing Grian to groan.

“Joel, please don’t encourage him. Seeing him drool like that yesterday was already bad enough” which is met with laughter. 

Jimmy leans his head back in embarrassment “You guys… saw all of that?”

“Jimmy, it was really hard to miss.” Grian sighs, unpacking his bag. “The whole place heard your conversation”

“It was actually quite disgusting to watch.”, Joel chimes in with another laugh.

“Guys please, I…” Jimmy can’t really defend himself there, his face heating in embarrassment but he can’t help but laugh. Because he must have looked absolutely ridiculous yesterday, but how could he not?

He checks his phone quickly before putting it into his locker, needing to escape his friends teasing. But he stops, seeing he’s got a message from Tango.

It is simple, it just says “alright. see you later then!”, but Jimmy must have the biggest grin on his face, judging by Grian groaning in exasperation.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt. 6

a/n: Mama a new chapter behind you (had to reupload this, because it didn't show up in the tag for some reason), this chapter might seem like a blurb of bs but it's important to the story guys please believe me. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Creepy Behavior (wow, a shocker), Discussion around some Non-Con situations (nothing explicit though), Smoking, Cussing, the regular

Summary: Finally, you get your phone back... And make a promise which will haunt you forever

Vicarious Masterlist

- What the fuck did you do? - Stillwell asks through gritted teeth, her expression frozen in a tight smile. 

The very second he has announced, the photoshoot would have to be postponed due to your "health problems", he could practically hear her heart drop right down to her tight, corporate ass. He decided not to comment on the sudden flood of adrenaline in her veins, but the moment she turned to him, demanding an answer, an explanation, he could feel the vein on his temple start to pulse.

Because how dare she, look at him like that? Like she actually cares about that ungrateful lowlife, he left wheezing on the floor, in some forgotten conference room? 

- She's not feeling well - he repeats, his voice becoming tense - Last night must've worn her out. 

Stillwell scoffs at his pathetic attempt at sounding sympathetic. Her eyebrows crease, as she takes a long, steadying breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. He likes that expression, likes the way people give up around him. The feeling of breaking someone down always gives him such a rush, it's unparalleled to anything else. 

He wonders how your face will twist and turn, when he finally manages to wrench himself under the layers of masks and disguises. He got close, he got a whiff of blood, and like a starved shark, he needed more.

The team of photographers continues to hassle about the place, setting things up, as if the photoshoot will take place. Which, it won't, he made sure of it. 

- Is she alive? - Stillwell asks with a resigned sigh, and Homelander rolls his eyes. 

- Yes, of course she's fucking alive, I'm not...

- Hey, y'all. Sorry for being late. 

Your voice shoots through him like an arrow of some fucked up, drunk cupid. His entire frame goes rigid, as his head all but snaps with the quickness he turns around. 

There you are. 

A plastic imitation of a laid-back smile plastered on your face, as you regard every person in the room with a nod of greeting. Not a hair on you seems out of place, even though he can clearly see, through the tissue and the muscle, that your ribs are only beginning to heal, the fragments of bone connecting with each other at a snails pace. It can't be pleasant, but your eyes shine nonetheless, as your platform boots carry you in their direction.

Stillwell looks just as shocked as he feels, her eyebrows nearly touching the perfect hairline on her forehead. 

- Miss Stillwell - you greet her with a pleasant smile - Homelander. 

- I see you're all better now - he comments after a beat, his eyes scanning your form.

He doesn't like the way your expression doesn't even budge. It feels insulting, your refusal to show your true colors to him, especially since he has seen you. He knows there are thoughts brewing under that blowout, and when you direct that fake smile at him, it feels like a personal jab.

 A small middle finger, pointed straight at his smile, stuck like glue to his face. The word "Bitch" echoes in his mind, and his eyes start to burn at the corners. 

- Ah, that party last night must've tired me out more than I anticipated - you shake your head in a rather forced attempt at looking bashful - I hope I haven't inconvenienced y'all too much. 

It's a blur from then on. Stillwell directs you towards the makeup booth, swallowing around her shock, before she comes out as too relieved. 

Homelander doesn't register any of her words, silently stalking to his own chair, where he lets some intern cake his face with makeup. He keeps his eyes on you, all the time, imagining all the horrible things he could do, will do, once this charade is over. 

He notices, with the accuracy of a starved hawk, how your breathing is still quite shaky, how your lungs aren't expanding as much as they're supposed to. Then, there's the tremble in your hand, as you curl your fingers around the armrest, nails digging into the plastic, when the makeup artist glides her brush over your collarbones. His eyes catch the smidgen of glitter, and his lip quirks up, seemingly on its own. 

A fitting camouflage, for the carnage he's left underneath. 

You suck in a sharp breath, as one of the ribs clicks back into place, and mask the sound with a cough. Which brings another wave of pain, crashing over your chest. He has to admit, the way you pretend to be completely unaffected is admirable. If anything, it gives him some hope regarding the future movie you're supposed to do together. In a month or so, he doesn't remember the details. Doesn't care for them. 

And then, you're up. 

Solo shots first. The photographer ushers you in front of the green screen, where you stand on the mark, shuffling on your feet awkwardly. Homelander watches, his head tilting, as you let yourself be posed, like a doll for the entertainment of millions. For his entertainment. 

It's the same, boring series of poses. The same, ass-and-tits-in-the-same-shot bullshit. He's seen it on practically every female superhero, and yes, perhaps at first it was exciting. Right now, however, it feels like licking off a plate after reheated leftovers. Still, he has to admit, there's something intriguing about the way your body twists and turns to accommodate the photographer's artistic vision. 

Despite that, despite the way your thighs peak almost too scandalously from under your plaid skirt, or the way your chest practically waves at him from beneath your corset top... 

He feels nothing. No familiar tightness in the lower parts of his suit. No fidgeting, no sudden wave of heat. He looks at you, and sees... Well... You. 

Even when your painted lips pull back into a flirty, curling smile, as you wink at the camera (as instructed), he can't really see Fireball anymore. It's like those couple of minutes ago, when he left you writhing on the floor unlocked some deep truth, some unexplainable dam, which has burst completely.

For a moment, he doesn't know what to think. The photographer thanks you, motions for him to take his place, and with limbs, which are suddenly much too heavy, Homelander makes his way in front of the camera. 

Your gaze follows him, eyes shifting under ridiculously large fake eyelashes. He feels them, burning the back of his neck, and for some unknown reason, it makes him feel... Almost pleased. He's always been a slut for attention, for admiration, for the looks of awe. And while there's nothing on your face which would suggest the latter two, you're still looking at him.

It makes his chest puff out a bit more, his back straightening, his smile cutting even more than usual. And the camera clicks, and clicks, until it's time for your paired shots. 

The chair squeaks, when you stand up, and Homelander swallows, listening to your platform boots, as they click on the linoleum flooring. Soon enough, you're in front of him, the photographer maneuvers you to his liking, and Homelander looks down, takes a whiff of  your perfume. That lingering, suffocating scent of jasmine. It swirls in his nose, cements itself into his brain, and his chest makes a quick up and down movement, his lungs refusing cooperation for just a second. 

The photographer turns you around, makes you stand closer to him, chests almost pressing together. And then, he places your arm across his shoulders, and Homelander freezes.

He doesn't know why, not really, but the feeling of your plush flesh against his sends a wave of paralyzing shivers down his spine. Surprisingly, not of arousal, but something else entirely. Something he refused to recognize. 

Your eyes flicker to his, eyebrows twitching in a display of curiosity, as you feel him tense under your hand. He doesn't like it, the way you seem to see right through him, like he's made of glass. Like you can sense his thoughts, his very soul. 

Annoyingly perceptive.

His mouth opens, so close to a biting, threatening comment, but before anything comes out, the pressure on his shoulder lessens, before disappearing completely. Eyes flickering to the side, he can see the way your hand hovers, just millimeters from his costume, maintaining the illusion of contact. 

Anger is his natural reaction, embedded into the very core of his being. He doesn't want to recognize the flood of relief at the lack of contact, he doesn't want to understand the implications. And most importantly, he absolutely hates, that it's you. Once again, you've managed to read him like a fucking book, and took it all in without even moving a muscle. 

Thoughts swirl inside his brain, and he's so focused on the noticable lack of your touch, that he doesn't hear the photographer until the third time.

The next couple of poses go in that exact manner. The photographer tells you how to pose, and you do so, keeping your body hovering over Homelander's. 

He refuses to recognize the flicker of gratitude in his gut. He's never grateful, he's a fucking superhero, and physical touch is not something he's shied away from. Yet, he can't deny, that small show of respect, not directed towards his power, but rather, his own preference... Strange.

You're strange, you're infuriating. Your hair looks so soft, despite the gallons of product they dumped onto it.

He gravitates towards you after the shoot ends, when all the staff is slowly packing up, flickering out of the room in a river of insignificance. You're standing by the makeup table, Ashley at your side, explaining something with that same 'i'm going to have a heart attack any moment', terrified stare. He watches with mild interest, as your presence alone seems to slow the ginger's heart.

Your ribs seem to be healed over by this point, he watches some lingering, floating pieces of bone, as they fit into the puzzle of your insides. He takes a step closer, suddenly mesmerized by the way your blood vessels connect, reaching towards each other. Joining hands.

The sound of your laughter cuts through his thoughts like a knife, and he blinks up towards your face, noting deep in his brain the different types, different sounds of your joy. It's such a strange observation, he stuns himself for a moment. But then again, there's no one but himself to police his thoughts. What goes on in his mind, stays within. No corporate restrictions, no paparazzi, no Stillwell. Just him, and the soft chuckle you just let out, light, breezy, barely a sound really. 

He's caught in the middle of replaying the way your voice carried above the music, back at the party, where he listened to you, and only you, floating above the roof like a dark omen. That cracking, unrestrained sound, which both irritated him, and brought a strange feeling of confusion, swirling in his stomach. So different from your Fireball persona, from the soft, high-pitched sounds you were emitting while in the Tower, constantly under surveillance. 

- Just don't blow it - Ashley sighs, a swan song of her professionalism, and the wink you give her is nothing short of diabolical

- I never blow jobs without a "please" first - you shoot back, stunning both the redhead, and the lurking Homelander into silence.

It's almost a relief to him, when the familiar tightness around the lower section of his suit manifests itself at your words. He greets it like an old friend. 

Would he ask for it? Would he twist his face into a pleading expression, would he guide you down, a steady hand on your shoulder, as he repeats "please" like it's a prayer? He shudders at the mental image, his fingers curling into fists so tight, the leather of his gloves starts to creak. 

When your conversation with Ashley finishes, he follows you out the room, a small distance behind, and he truly doesn't know what compels his legs to move forward. He doesn't understand the need, that's suddenly manifested itself somewhere in the darker parts of himself. All he knows, is that he walks behind you like a shadow, through the corridors of the ground level of the Tower, ignoring the looks of awe and inspiration from all the inconsequential workers. 

They filter like ants around the two of you, faces rising from their computers, abandoning their lunches in favor of gaping at the unexpected pair, that's slowly but surely making it's way towards the smoking area. 

All the while, that ridiculously short, plaid skirt sways to the sound of the only two words, rattling around in his brain, as he observes your movements.

Ripe. Plump. Ripe. Plump. Ripe. Plump.

It would be so easy, he thinks again, to just pull you away. He knows every nook and cranny of this place. Every shadowed broom closet, every blind spot of the cameras. He has used and abused all those places, burned their existence into the mind of many, many women. 

There are walls in this building, which are most definitely lacking your body pressed into them. His hands itch. They would fit so nicely under the plush flesh of your thighs, sinking into them, holding them apart. It would be child's play at this point. 

And he knows Madelyn made you sign an NDA, he's seen the intricate lines of your name on the white paper. No one would stop him, and yet...

The smoking area is relatively empty. You find a spot at a table near the large window overlooking the street, and he says nothing, as he slinks into the chair opposite yours. Finally, you look up at him, tilting your head to the side, like you're trying to read something out of the schooled, passive expression on his face. He doesn't like it, the way your eyes drill into him, like you're peeling away some layers he doesn't even know are there. 

He's supposed to be the one doing the peeling. 

- So - you start, and he immediately snaps his attention to the tone of your voice - That was fucking exhausting, wasn't it?

Higher register, breathy quality. You're talking to him like he's one of them. One of Vaught, one of the press, like he didn't see your trembling body on the floor of the office.

Anger flares within him at the revelation, and your breath catches in your throat as without warning, the sound of a chair scraping roughly on the tiled floor fills the air. Homelander pushes himself right next to you, his hand clamping down like a vice around your wrist, holding it tightly on your lap, the leather of his gloves squeaking in protest.

Your eyes widen a fraction, muscles tensing at the unexpected proximity, and your gaze darts around the smoking area, taking in the noticable lack of other people.

- The fu...-

He cuts you off quickly, his grip tightening to an almost bruising intensity.

- Don't ever use that voice with me. - his voice is low, a hint of a warning hidden in every syllable.

For just a second your eyebrows furrow in plain confusion, and then, realization hits the both of you like a freight train. 

This isn't you. You're not here.

You didn't know. You didn't notice until he pointed it out. Slow horror blossoms on your face, breath catching in your freshly healed trachea, as you blink up at him. 

A mixture of emotions swirls in his gut. 

They almost got you. For just a second you were completely immersed in the fantastical, corporate creation, this hellish place wanted you to be. So immersed in fact, you forgot your own voice. Fireball, like a greedy parasite, has taken root in your system, sucking away your person hood. Just like he is trained to always smile towards the camera, his face twisting every time, like a compulsion he can't get rid of. 

Your shoulders sag, this unexplainable heaviness returning to your bones. He will remember this moment for years to come, long after the contract has ended, this small flicker of understanding, however damning it might be, will forever cement itself into his very being. The first time you've ever recognized, that there's more to him, that he knows he's not the only thing you're fighting.

Because in this small moment, despite the animosity, the tension, the downright horrible thoughts and actions he's taken against you, will take against you, both of you know the horrible truth. The price to pay for stepping a foot in his world, even momentarily. 

- You will never lie to me - he says like it's an universally accepted fact, not a request.

And you nod, a sudden jerk of your head, hair jumping around your face, because there's no other way. He'll sniff out lies from the very essence of your being, but more than that, you're slowly growing more desperate to maintain this flicker of kinship. Your only chance at establishing a connection, at worming yourself into his brain as something more than just a piece of fuckable meat. 

You will take any crumb at this point. Any way to ensure he sees you as something more, than a toy to play with and discard. To earn your safety amongst his heated stares, and pages upon pages of contracts. Stillwell won't protect you from him anymore, that much has become obvious, the moment she made you sign an NDA. Now it's your job to make sure it'll never be used against you. 

Which is why, your lips part, tongue running over your teeth, as if chasing the lingering taste of Fireball's voice in your mouth. So you can recognize it earlier, cut it out like a tumor, before it consumes you. 

- Thank you - he shudders, as that phrase leaves your lips once again, so reminiscent of your time in his penthouse, and yet so distinctly different. 

His jaw twitches under his skin, eyes blinking in rapid succession, and you can almost feel the way the bones of his hand creak, as he detaches himself from your wrist. There are indents in your flesh, in places where he pushed just a bit too far, but as soon as the pressure's gone, you can feel your skin spring back into its original state.

The chair scrapes once again, a shrill sound in the silence of the room, and with a terrifying mixture of emotions, your eyes glue themselves to the image of the American flag on his back, as he all but flees the place. For the first time, since you've landed here, he's the one retreating. But it doesn't feel like victory, it feels like the executioner's axe.

The next day, you spot your friend sitting at that same table, right in front of the window overlooking the street, where just yesterday he sat in that very chair. They notice you immediately, face twisting into a bright grin, as your heavy boots thud against the tiled floor. 

You absolutely, viscerally hate seeing them here, in this suffocating, terrible place. Alas, Stillwell made herself clear. This meeting is arranged during your working hours, and as such, must take place in the Tower. Despite that, you can't help the heartbreaking feeling, that tears your chest apart as they wave at you.

You've missed them, so incredibly hard, for just a moment you're willing to forget, that the walls of this building quite literally have ears. That there's always someone watching your every movement. That he's watching, listening in.

- Good God, look at you - your friend huffs a laugh, and wraps their arms around you, finally making the faux leather of the corset somewhat bearable - You look like an industry plant.

- That's cause I am an industry plant - you smile against their cheek, revelling in the way your voice finally sounds like it's supposed to.

Ignoring the gnawing feeling of unease, you sit back in your chair, forcing the image of Homelander to the very back of your mind. You might never be safe in here, but this  small reprieve, you'll take in stride. God only knows, you need some familiarity.

- How are the wedding preparations? - you ask, grabbing your phone from their hand, reunited at last 

- Well, I had no idea there's so many flowers to choose from, lemme tell you that much - they huff, and your lips pull back into a smile on their own accord.

It's so easy to forget where you are, when they're near, when they're teasing the Smirnoff out of you. It's like their sheer presence here stomped hard on Fireball's neck, forcing her to stay down, to know her place. 

You needed that.

With practiced ease, your fingers fish out a pack of cigarettes from your cleavage, the only place you could've hidden them, considering your super suit doesn't have any pockets. And with an even more practiced smirk, your friend produces a lighter. The exchange happens naturally. They pluck one cig from the package, light yours up, and then their own. 

The scent of smoke fills your nose, biting and grounding at the same time. The feeling of nicotine slowly trickling into your system, a tightness in your lungs, makes your shoulders sag ever so slightly. 

- I'm surprised they let you smoke - your friend muses, cloud of gray curling around their mouth - Not very 'superhero of the people' of you.

You scoff, your eyes rolling.

- I swear, everytime I pull one out, they all look at me, like I'm snorting coke in front of a fucking preschooler.

You're well aware just how bitter your voice sounds, and as much as your friend tries to maintain the easy going smile, there's a flicker of deep-rooted concern. 

- They really made you into something else, huh? - they ask, voice quiet and almost mournful

- Five more months - you sigh, trying to take some consolation in the passage of time, however hopeless it may be. - "Life is a Cabaret, old chum..."

The quote hangs heavily between the two of you, twisting your faces into mirror images of sardonic smiles, as the utter ridiculousness of your situation falls on you like a weighted blanket. Smoke fills the space, lingering around your heads, before inevitably it gets sucked away by the ventilation system. For a second, you wish, you could ingrain this scent, this nauseating stink of chemicals into your very being, somehow sink it into your blood.

 Perhaps this way, you'd finally feel safe. Perhaps it would make him repulsed enough to leave your shadow.

It's quiet for a moment. The hum of the air conditioning, and the distant sounds of lively New York streets combining into a harmony of your current life, drowning you in the unchanging rhythm of the big city. Your mind starts to wonder, towards the ever-seeing eyes of your mentor. If he sees you now, what is he thinking? Is he planning some elaborate way to twist your very being to his liking? 

No. Not after your last conversation. 

Surely, it would be easier, if he had just accepted Fireball as your ultimate, perfect image. You were a good actress, and exceptional liar. You could've pulled it off. But of course, he wants you. He wants Smirnoff. And by God, that thought twists your guts into a mixture of fear and disgust. 

Why won't he just let you pretend?

- So, how's Mister America? - your friend's voice brings you back, pulls you away from your darkening thoughts, and wrenches a heavy, tired sigh right out of your lungs. 

You can't tell them. 

You're contractually obligated never to say a word. Still, they can read you like an open book, having spent years of their life getting used to the twists and turns of your expression. So, when you look up at them, through haze of cigarette smoke and unspoken words, they understand without a second of delay. 

Their face falls, that smirk you've known so well, trampled by an image of pure worry. It doesn't take a genius to see the undercurrent of fear, the acceptance of the inevitable flowing from your eyes like a broken faucet. 

- Oh...

Yeah. Oh. 

What else is there to say? What words could bring you comfort in this mess? Truth is, as much as you'd hate to admit it, you've brought this upon yourself, the moment you sat in Stillwells office. The moment you saw the CCTV footage, and still decided to sign that damned non-disclosure. You should've ran for the hills. Pack your pride, pack your bleeding heart, and hide back in your house, between boxes of your mother's belongings, between your sister's old posters. Under your old diploma, and all the other trash you're never going to use again. 

But here you are. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

- You have no idea... - the words seem to run out of your mouth on their own, carried away on the hands of cigarette smoke.

- Did he hurt you?

Now you laugh. A bitter, grating sound that hurts both your ears, and your heart. Because yes, of course he did hurt you. But how can you explain, that in that very moment you felt more seen, more alive, than you've had for years of your life? How does one even begin to comprehend such terrible truth, not to mention saying it out loud. 

And how do you explain, that physical violence is not the part you're worried about?

- That's... - you pause, raking your brain for something, any phrase that wouldn't endanger the contract, while still describing your hopeless situation - That's not the worst thing, that can (will) happen to me here.

There. You can see, by their sharp intake of breath, that suddenly they understand in fullness. Their throat bobs around a nervous swallow.

- What's your plan? - your friend asks, leaning closer, their elbows sliding on the glass table - You have to protect yourself somehow, this can't... You can't. 

- I don't know - the admission feels both hopeless and cathartic - I thought I did, but I don't. All I know is, I need to make myself irreplacable. I need to be entertaining enough, without loosing the last fucking shreds of dignity I have. Damned if I do, damned if I don't otherwise. 

Another moment of heavy silence falls between the two of you. The tiles on the floor start to merge together, as tears spring into your eyes. Pathetic, really. You promised yourself not to cry, and yet, despite still being inside the belly of the beast, your friend's presence brings out, well... You. 

Their tone of voice is soft, measured, when they say your name, and your eyes flicker towards them, wetness gathering on the ends of your fake eyelashes.

They hold your gaze for a moment, something akin to determination flowing in tides across their face. 

- So, saying "Yes", and saying "No" are out of question. - they muse, and you nod, a single, tense jerk of your head - Then there's only one answer. 

You blink, confused. The cigarette sizzles, as they chuck it into a half empty paper cup of black coffee, smoke rising into the air, before it's extinguished completely. Elbows slide across the glass table, as they lean in closer towards you, as if sharing some incredibly juicy secret. 

You can see the small mole on their cheek is dusted with a bit of makeup powder. 

- The answer is, "Maybe."

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 6

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: I couldn't resist posting this so close to the other part. I'd say I'm sorry for the slight cliff hanger.... But I'm not. Also I've started writing some of the stuff around threshing, what do you guys think Ophelia's signet should be? What dragon will she have? Also what should we make Garrick's signet? I've seen a few theories on his being pain due to his dragons name, and honestly kinda leaning towards it. As per usual if you want to be on the tag list let me know! And if you guys have any prompts or ideas for small little one off stories/one shots, please pop them in my asks! Would love to give some other ideas a go. Probably leaning more towards our rebellion boys (Xaden, Garrick, Bodhi and Liam), but happy to give some others a go.

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

Garrick leans against the wall at the end of the bed, his hazel eyes watching me like a hawk. He hadn’t take his eyes off me since scooping me off the floor. I’m a little disappointed he managed to put a shirt on before bringing me here. I could have used the view while the healer works at cleaning the blood off my face and mending my nose. Every time I flinch or wince as the healer works, I swear I see Garrick’s hand twitch as if wanting to reach out and stop her. The healer walks away to get me some healing balm to take with me to help the last of my nose heal and to help with any bruising that may decide to show up. As she rounds the corner, Garrick pushes off the wall and pulls up a chair next to my bed. He reaches up and tilts my head towards him with his right hand. His eyes assessing my face and the work the healer has done. When he’s satisfied I’ve been healed adequately his eyes meet mine. His hand still lingering on my face.

”You two really did a number on each other.” He says with a chuckle.

”You finally going to tell me what the hell is up with you and Imogen.” I say more aggressively that I intend.

Garrick flinches at my words and his moves his hand from my cheek to his lap as he looks down and starts to fidget with this hands. Some of his dark curls falling in front of his eyes. Definitely not the response he was expecting from me.

“I promise you there is nothing going on-”

”Bullshit.” I spit out cutting him off mid sentence.

He looks up at me shocked and almost scared. Something I can safely say I’ve never seen from Garrick towards me. Granted I don’t think I’ve used that kind of tone towards him before in the entire time I’ve known Garrick, which is pretty much my entire life. He hangs his head and goes back to fidgeting with his hands, the chair creaking under his weight as he moves around. Clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“For me there’s nothing going on with her. We hooked up a few times, but that was it.” He admits, his shoulders sagging with the confession before looking back up at me with sad eyes that almost plead forgiveness from me. “But I made it clear I wanted nothing serious. But it is becoming clear those hook ups meant more to her than just something casual.”

”You never struck me as the casual hook up type.” I admit to him.

He slowly nods in agreement before looking away again, intently focused on his hands again. “Honestly I’m not. But there are times while you are here where you just need someone. And the person I needed. The person I wanted more than just a casual hook up with.” His eyes flick up to mine, and I swear my heart stops as if I know what’s coming. “Well I kind of thought they were dead till recently.”

His words come out so quietly I barely hear them. But I do. My heart rate starts to pick up as his words sink in and silence falls around us as we just stare into each others eyes. There is no doubt that Garrick meant me. It’s not like anyone else has come back from the dead recently. Garrick who I spent most of my child hood and teenage years crushing over, has just confessed they feel the same way and all I can do is sit here and stare at him like a deer about to get torched by a dragon. And I’m sure my face probably looks similar to that deer right now. His words start to sink in as he stares at me hopefully. His eyes pleading at me to say something. Say anything back to him. But I can’t. All I can do is stare at him in shock, despite wanting to hear this exact confession from him for years.

At that moment the healer comes back with the healing balm, completely oblivious to the tension in the small closed off area. “Here you go lovely, just apply it to any bruising as it appears.” She says sweetly as she hands it to me.

I tear my gaze from Garrick as I stand and take the healing balm from her, before quickly walking out of the room. I hear the chair Garrick was sitting on scrape against the floor. As soon as I’m out the door I take off. I vaguely hear Garrick call my name as I run back to the riders quadrant.

Part 7

Tag List: @riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99

[lincolndjarin]

ride cowgirl! ★ (agent whiskey x reader)

(18+ mdni) pairings : agent whiskey x afab!reader summary : you like to make bets with your coworker for simple things, what happens when he decides he wants to raise the stakes? warnings & tags : no use of y/n, smut, sort of dubcon there's reluctance but everything is consensual, porn with plot, this ended up actually being mostly plot lmao, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, light bondage, use of restraints, fully clothed sex, pet names, size kink, praise, whiskey big dick truther word count : 2.3k a/n : first new fic post on the new blog!!! I had so much fun with this thank you so much to the person who requested it !! one of my google forms anon requests was for anything whiskey!! (I put the request at the end) this was the direction I went in >:) this was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away immediately. enjoy!! (this was edited super fast bc i'm tired after work lmao, so apologies for any mistakes)

It was a stupid deal. 

And you never should have made it. 

Of course it’s a little late for that now, when he’s already tying your hands behind your back with his ridiculous flask belt. 

“This wasn’t a part of the original agreement.” You grumble as he pulls the leather tight. That smug smile on his face. 

“You said, anyway I wanted it. This is how I want it.” He leans back against the headboard to admire his work. His eyes focused on the way your chest pushes out now with your arms forced behind you until you cough to get his attention. He takes his time before letting his eyes crawl back up to your face, still grinning ear to ear. 

“Can we just get this over with?” You groan. 

“Oh come on, gorgeous.” He’s loosening his tie, his smile never falters. “I already told you we don’t have to do this. I’ve offered you several outs and you keep turning them down. Besides,” He flashes his teeth at you in a toothy grin. “it’s no fun for me if you don’t want it.” 

That’s exactly what he’d said when you’d made this deal a week ago. 

“I think I want your hat.” You said rather confidently. The two of you had a long standing rivalry. You were placing bets nearly every week at this point. The winner was whoever had the most successful missions. It had started off simple. The loser has to take the other out to dinner, or pay for drinks after a night out. 

After a few months of that you’d gone out with Whiskey more times then you’d gone on any dates. 

Then you decided to raise the stakes. 

The other person's paycheck that week, a piece of tech the other had, at one point your mothers phone number was on the line. (Thankfully that week you had won.)

This week you were feeling lucky. So you pointed at his cowboy hat, he was never seen without. 

“If I win I want your hat.” You cock your head to the side, smirking. 

“You have a hat already.” He was typing up a mission report, you had come in as you always did on Monday mornings. 

“Nice observation agent, how’d you figure that out?” You took a pen from the mug on his desk, rapidly clicking it in an attempt to get under his skin. “That doesn’t change my mind, I don’t want my hat. I want yours.”

He sighs in irritation, taking the pen from you and moving the mug to the other side of his computer. 

“And if you win you can have mine.” You flick the rin of his hat as you say it and he finally turns to glare at you. 

“I don’t want your hat, I already have a hat.” 

“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” You whisper theatrically as he turns back to his work. 

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through darlin’ so let’s hurry this up.” 

“I already told you. I want your hat, if you don’t want mine then pick something else.” 

He turns in his desk chair completely to face you now. Annoyance visible on his face. 

“If I win, then you wear my hat.” As he speaks he cracks the first smile you’ve seen on him all morning. 

“You aren’t making any sense, are you still waking up? Do you want me to go get you some coffee?” You laugh but he leans forward. Even though you were up on the desk and he was in his chair he was still nearly face to face with you. 

“Darlin’ you can be so cute sometimes.” You have no idea what he means but his voice has a condescending tone that makes you scowl. 

“Stop being coy and just clarify.” His first signs of a smile turn into a full blown grin. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” He whispers, you’re about to slap him for making such a crass joke but he looks completely serious. 

“That’s not funny. What do you really want?” You pray he doesn’t see the goosebumps on your arms at his words, you spend so much time with him yet he’s never made a pass at you. You’ve watched him hit on countless women these last few months but he’s never turned his attention towards you quite like this. 

“I told you. You win, you get my hat. I win, you wear it.” He has to be messing with you. You want to believe that he’s just trying to push your buttons but you know purely based on the way he looks at you that he couldn’t be more serious. 

It’s an insane offer. But it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Who wouldn’t be curious about what he must whisper to get women to come home with him, what he must promise them. 

Stop. You can’t seriously be considering this. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously I’m not doing that.” You get up to leave. Embarrassed by the entire situation. 

“You win, you get my hat and the Bronco. I win, you wear the hat.” You’re already walking out when he says it and you stumble a bit before turning back to stare at him slack jawed. 

“You’d give me your car?” The disbelief in your tone is palpable. 

“If you won.”

And you just couldn’t say no. It was too good of an offer. 

So you set up ground rules. 

You wanted your clothes to stay on, at least as much as possible for the situation. Which he agreed to, so long as the two of you did it “how ever he wanted.” You didn’t realize until much later what that entailed. And of course there was the fact that he wanted you to enjoy it. An odd request all things considered, but he said it was important to him that you had a good time. 

“It's no fun for me if you don’t want it.” 

He had insisted that if you weren’t into it that he would stop, especially if he thought you were faking it. 

Once everything was decided the two of you shook hands. 

And then, by some cruel trick of fate, you had fumbled not one, not two, not even three, but all of your missions that week. A feat that has never happened to you in the entire history of your employment with Statesman. 

So that’s how you ended up like this. 

Fully clothed other than your discarded panties, straddling your most annoying coworker, who’s sitting underneath you, dressed the same as always except his pants are unzipped, with his belt around your wrists. 

“Just let me know when you’re ready darlin’, take your time. I can wait all night, I've got nothing else planned.” 

You could tell him no. You should. You just don't want to.

The second you did he would take the belt off your wrists, hand you your panties (the ones you pretended you didn’t see him shove in his pocket when you threw them on the bed,) and send you on your way. And he’d do it all with a smile. 

Of course you can’t let that happen, that would just mean that he’s won, again. 

He wouldn’t even tell anyone, not that anyone knew about the deal to begin with. But he’d never tease you for bailing, he’d just make you live with the knowledge that you bit off more than you could chew. 

And worst of all, if you had won, you know for a fact that he would have handed over the keys to his car with zero hesitation. 

So you roll your eyes and nod. 

He clicks his tongue, leaning forward, his hands rub your thighs, pushing your skirt up further. 

“Tell me you want it sweetheart.” He taunts, making you sigh loudly. 

It’s not that you don’t want it. God knows you want it. You crave it. But you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I want it.” You say, almost comically emotionless which has him frowning, sitting up straighter. 

“Let’s just call it. You clearly don’t, and I’m not interested in an unenthusiastic partner.” He begins to lift you off of his hips but you push against him, properly sitting yourself in his lap. 

“Give me a second, Jesus. I’m not even warmed up, just- I need a minute. We’re doing this.” There’s a determination in your voice that stops his efforts.

There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. 

“Do you want me to… warm you up?” It’s the first time he’s dropped the cocky facade since you started this ordeal. 

“No. I think I’m okay. Let’s do this.” You nod a few times, almost like you’re hyping yourself up. The two of you hadn’t factored in a lot of the logistical details of this deal, more specifically foreplay. 

As he pulls himself out of his jeans you’re starting to wish that you had. He isn’t even completely hard yet and you aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to take all of it. 

He unceremoniously spits into his hand before gripping himself at the base, steadily stroking himself. 

It’s like he’s a porn star and you’ve got front row seats to a private show. 

You’re close enough that when he leans forward, softly grunting, his face brushes against yours. His cock becoming fully erect in his hand, you hope he doesn’t hear you gulp. 

As he jerks himself off, his free hand reaches up, removing his hat before placing it onto your head. It’s a little too big for you so it tilts to one side. He gives you a lopsided grin before picking up his pace. You watch with wide eyes. 

He’s too big. 

In every way possible. 

He’s too long, he’s too thick, he’s simply too much. 

And you can’t tell him that. He’s smug enough as is, if you say “actually nevermind. you’re dick’s too big I couldn’t possibly fuck you.” he’ll be even more insufferable than he already is. But much to your chagrin he already knows what you’re thinking. 

“You still sure you don’t want me to warm you up?” His nerves are clearly gone as he chuckles before hissing through his teeth. His thumb brushes over his pink, weeping tip. 

“I’m fine. Ready when you are.” Not true. 

“Maybe I could free your wrists. You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to do it.” He’s reaching behind you and you once again halt his efforts. 

“No. We’re doing this your way.” 

You’re certainly overestimating your abilities, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

You scoot forward in his lap until his cock is resting between your thighs. You sit up on your knees and he lines himself up at your entrance. 

“Last chance to back out, sugar.” With that final taunt from him you sink down onto him without warning. Barely taking more than an inch before you drop your chin to your chest so he can’t see your face as he simultaneously leans back to rest against the headboard once more. 

It feels like he’s splitting you in half. 

His hands return to your thighs. His palms splayed against you as his thumbs rub comforting circles against your flesh. 

The sting is all you can think of but buried beneath it all is a heat that threatens to consume you. 

You lift your head to look at him. He’s lost a bit of his bravado as he runs his fingers through his hair. You don’t give him (or yourself to be fair) a chance to adjust. You have a desperate need to watch him unravel despite the ache between your legs. 

You take a deep breath before you take nearly half of him in one rock of your hips. 

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the heat in your stomach is bubbling over as you let out a moan you’ve never heard from yourself before. His grip on your thighs is tight enough now that you’re certain you’ll have to wear a longer skirt tomorrow. 

“Christ darlin’.” He stutters out, his eyes are squeezed shut and you couldn’t be more proud. 

“Is this enthusiastic enough for you?” You manage to grunt out between your small gasps. 

He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

You have to wait longer this time before moving again, you wait until the pain eases itself away and is replaced with that heat you’ve been pursuing. Only then do you try taking more of him, you don’t manage all of it but you take most of him after a bit of effort. The entire time his eyes are trained on you, a look of admiration on his face. 

“You are something else, gorgeous.” He whispers.

His low drawl shoots straight to your core and god you’re sure he knows it. He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

You haven’t even started properly riding him and you’re close. 

The way he fills you has you seeing stars. You would love to try and banter with him right now, tease him, but you’re too far gone. Too focused on the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he lets out a soft whine before squeezing your hips.

“Let me touch you, please.” He mutters breathlessly.

You aren’t one to deny good southern manners. 

You give him a nod and he wastes no time as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers frantically, like he’s trying to make you cum as fast as possible. You’re confused as to why for only a moment because your climax approaches so rapidly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Your hips stutter as you sit, finally fully impaled on his length, in an instant your vision is a searing hot white. His hat tilts forward on your head, briefly covering your eyes. You’re left breathless in his lap, when you come down from your high he’s grinning at you.

“I win again darlin’.” 

You groan as you recall the conversation you’d had right before he had tied your hands behind your back. 

“If I finish first you can have my hat, if you do, then I get to finish inside you.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“If I finish first you can have the Bronco.”

“...Fine.”

a/n : requester ily, thank youuu

[maramahan]

I started writing this in the tags of someone else’s post, but then I figured I should probably just make my own:

Once a week, my best friend and I try to get together and share whatever creative projects we’ve been working on lately, and sometimes this hang-out includes a stop by our local boba tea place. We did this yesterday, and the girl behind the counter was someone I haven’t seen working there before

I don’t know what specifically about this stranger pinged my brain, but… idk. something about them was Shaped Like Friend?

But outright saying ‘Hey I like your vibe’ felt kinda weird in context of the moment — so I went looking for some element of Personal Style to compliment instead. Except… the shirt beneath the uniform apron was a nondescript grey, there was no visible jewelry, their hair was pulled back in the kind of ponytail that’s not so much ‘a style’ as ‘a way to keep Hair away from Face’ — and I wouldn’t have felt right tying the compliment to their Energy, because the energy on display was of someone who’s mentally on NPC shift waiting for the workday to end. We’ve all been there.

But... Shaped Like Friend.

So I decided to compliment their glasses — the frames were a nice and shiny silver, with a shape well-suited to their face.

And the cashier blinked like a person waking up. “Oh… thanks. I actually broke them this morning. I’m glad you couldn’t tell.”

And their smile. This person had such a nice smile. Quick and bright as a goldfinch flashing by a summer window. Truly, a person Shaped Like Friend.

ANYWAY all this to say — successfully complimenting strangers is sunlight and I’m low-key on a secret mission to try and gather as much as I can

[sh0ek0]

midnight love (part 4)

please find the other parts via my masterlist in the pinned post on my blog!

pairing: megumi x f!reader summary: after surprising you on your 21st birthday, you ditch your friends to be with Megumi and finally talk. How will things be between the two of you, after everything that happened? genre: angst, but there's smut in the end heh content warning: !aged up characters!, college au, abusive/toxic relationship and dynamics, dark content, euphoria inspired dialogue (the part in the car is heavily inspired but I just love that conversation), mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking/cigarettes, explicit smut I guess lol word count: 6.7k

a/n: honestly, even if one person likes and comments on my writing it motivates me to keep going so thank you @denkisupremacist ily. also thanks to everyone else that commented/liked/reblogged the other parts. if u want to be tagged just dm me <3

recommended songs: midnight love - girl in red / I THINK - Tyler, The Creator / Altitude - Montell Fish / Exscape - Montell Fish

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD ! MDNI ! 18+

It wasn't that you liked lying to your friends. But as soon as you stepped back into the bar and slipped the necklace Megumi had just given you into your pocket, you knew you had to come up with an excuse to get out of here as quickly as possible.

"There you are!"

Yuji and Yuta were standing in front of you. They had both put on their jackets and looked at you with relief as you walked through the door.

"We came to check on you, you've been gone for almost half an hour," Yuji says, and you see Yuta's eyes follow your hand as you stuff the necklace into your pocket, but he says nothing.

"Uh—sorry, guys I could’ve texted one of you," you mumble, "my mum, she, uh, just had a lot to talk about." 

Yuji’s is about to return to the others and take you with him to complete his mission as you link arms with him, when suddenly you both hear Yuta clear his throat. You spin around, feeling caught as you see the tall boy still standing there, frozen in place, his expression telling you that he didn't buy your story. 

You hesitate for a moment, but then you give Yuta a questioning look.

"Really? Did something happen? I mean, it's late, why didn't she call you earlier if she wanted to talk?", Yuta asks and you let go of Yuji's arm, who oblivious to the suggestiveness in Yuta's voice. You watch him make his way back to your table before turning back to Yuta.

"No, everything's fine," you start as Yuta avoids your gaze and looks outside through the large windows in the entrance, as if he expected someone to be waiting there, "I guess my mum just misses me.

"Are you waiting for someone or shall we go back?" you finally ask him with a smile on your lips as he turns back to you.

"The texts that popped up on your phone earlier weren't from your mum, y/n." 

You flinch, barely noticeable, as you hear what Yuta says to you. You had already turned away from him to join the others, deciding that if he wanted to investigate any further, he could do so on his own.

"Yuta, please…", you groan and look at him, rolling your eyes.

Now you really wanted to avoid him, so instead of going back to the others, you made your way through the people towards the bar in the back.

"No, stop avoiding me, I know he texted you." You heard his voice from right behind you. Great, he followed you.

"What do you want to hear now?", you ask him, turning to look him straight in the eye. He holds your gaze, towering over you as he takes off his jacket. You climb onto one of the stools by the bar and cross your arms like a stubborn child.

"I want to hear that you're not only getting older but also more mature, y/n," Yuta sighs, plopping down on the bar stool right next to you.

"How long have we known each other now? Three years? Four years? You were already Maki's best friend when I met you two."

"What’s you point, Yuta? Is it because of Maki? I don't think he'll do anything to her, I can assure you..."

"No, y/n, he won't do anything to her, but he will do something to you, and you don't want to realize that."

"Yuta, he said he’s sorry, he was drunk and he saw me with Choso, that was kind of my fault, I-", you protest, "I triggered that reaction." 

You could see the spark of desperation flash across Yuta's face. It wasn't your fault, you didn't provoke him, you didn't trigger his reaction - but you weren't ready to admit that. 

"He would never hurt me on purpose, I think he just needs... help," you added, "I can help him."

Yuta pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a tiny moment. His sigh was clearly audible, he rubbed his temples as if his head hurt. 

"None of us can protect you," he admitted, before taking a deep breath, "and I can't bear to hold my girlfriend in my arms over and over again while she cries because her best friend wakes up next to her from a panic attack five nights in a row, because she was assaulted and almost strangled by a guy she thinks loves her."

His words force you to look up at him and your eyes widen as you realize what he had just said. Maki has always been so strong for you, you don't remember when you last saw her crying, and now you realize how selfish you have been. You were only able to put up with everything Megumi had done to you because your friends were there to catch you.

"And I'm afraid of the day I'll find out that this guy has gone too far and I'll never be able to see my friend again." Yuta takes one of the two beers he ordered for both of you and takes a sip.

You swallow, amazed at how quickly this conversation had turned.

"Yuta, you know Megumi, you know what his problems are, I can't leave him, I love him," you blurt out, "I can't leave him."

"I haven't really known him for a while now, and I think he needs therapy before he's allowed to ever come near you again."

"You're not his personal punching bag, fuck, y/n, I've seen that before with my mum and my - my dad." 

Your heart starts beating faster as you listen to what he reveals. He's never told you that before.

"He won't change," he mumbles, taking another sip, his gaze averted from you.

"That," his eyes were on your neck now, making you want to turn away from him, "you can still cover up. Next will be the black eye and the broken nose."

"If you’re lucky," he adds quietly. You feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

It was just like the conversation with Yuji, you just couldn't argue, you had no arguments. You could justify everything to yourself, but to Yuta? To Yuji? To Maki? Of course they were right, but you didn't want to hear it. You didn't believe that you could be alone and you didn't believe that you could ever love another person the way you loved Megumi. What could you say to your friends, your friends who had been worried from the beginning? 

Megumi had once belonged to this group, until he changed more and more and your relationship grew more difficult. 

So you wondered what you should tell your friends in the future. Right in this moment, you couldn't even look Yuta in the eye, especially him, he had been the first to notice…

"Let me go, Megumi, you’re hurting me," you begged, pressed up against the wall. It was dark, of course it was, you went out tonight with all of your friends and you were far away from the dance floors upstairs. It was so dark that you could barely make out his face, only occasionally did a few lights flash across his features.

He had one hand on your hip, his fingers digging into your bare skin, while the other had a firm grip on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

"What was that, huh?", he spat at you, he was nearly fuming, his body pressed up against yours in an attempt to keep you in place, "Were you flirting with him? I saw the looks you gave him."

"'Gumi he’s in one of my seminars, it was noth—ow!" You grimace in pain as his hand leaves your hip and grabs your upper arm instead, pulling you along with him. He walks a few steps until you are at the foot of the stairs leading up. Megumi rears up in front of you, towering over you as he forces you a few more steps backwards into the cramped space between the stairs and the wall.

"No, stop, what are you doing, I don’t-", you protest, but you have no chance to escape, "Stop this nonsense, Megumi, nothing happened, let me..."

"You’re dressed like a fucking hooker for what, hmm? For him?", he growled, the tone of his voice silencing you in an instant, "Wanna show me what you wanted to do to him?" He pushed you against the wall. You groaned as you lost your balance for a second and hit the back of your head.

"Come on, don’t be so shy now." 

You stared up at your boyfriend, trapped between him and the wall behind you. His hands were groping all over your body, and you felt his right hand move up to grab your chin again, but this time it didn't stay there. Instead, his fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly, but none of that seemed familiar. He had done this before, in another setting, he knew you liked it, but this time was different. Even though it was dark, you could see the lust in his eyes, but there was none in yours. And you could feel how upset he was, he was angry and rough and you knew that he didn't care what you wanted at the moment.

"Stop, I—I don’t want this, let me go," you sobbed and tried to wriggle out of his grip, "Megumi, please, let me go…"

"What the fuck, man, leave her alone."

You looked up to see Yuta rushing down the stairs, grabbing Megumi by the shoulders and pulling him back without waiting for any more context. He read the situation right, so he didn't need you to confirm anything for him. 

He heard you the first time.

"Fuck, man, what was that supposed to be? What's wrong with you?", he shouted at him, pushing him back, further down the hall. Yuta actually was a bit taller than Megumi and was able to keep him in check, even if he fought back. You had probably never seen Yuta this upset and Megumi seemed to think the same, but you had no intention of staying to see what they would make of it. 

As soon as Megumi was busy with Yuta, you gave him a thankful look and hurried up the stairs, right into Maki’s arms. She quickly realised what was going on and sent Yuji to separate the two. 

After that, you left with her and Nobara and that was the first of many nights you spent in Maki's bed, instead of your own.

"Hey, guys, there you are," Maki interrupts the two of you as she walks over to her boyfriend and puts her arm around his waist.

Noticing that the others have also gathered around you, obviously ready to leave, you look in the other direction and wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes. 

"We've decided to move on," Yuji says excitedly, "we'll either go to another bar or back to our apartment, what do you think?"

"That's actually a good idea," Yuta chimes in, standing up and grabbing his jacket before taking Maki's hand, "let's go."

You stand up as well and take your chance while you can.

"Guys, I would love to come with you, but I have to retake an exam on Monday and I think I really need to catch up on some sleep," you explain, and you're not even lying, "Shoko offered to drive me home, she's already waiting for me outside, so I think I should go."

Well, that was a lie.

Your friends protest, but you ignored them - you had already put on your jacket and were about to give each of them a big hug.

"Thank you for the surprise," you say and wave goodbye, "Honestly guys, it was so much fun with you, thank you."

You smile and did your best to avoid their glances, trying not to look at Yuta, Choso or Maki, who had probably already seen through you as well.

"See you," you mumble and turn around, taking your phone out of your purse to text Megumi before you had even left the bar.

You grin to yourself, eyes glued to you phone as you push open the door, your other hand fishing the necklace out of the pocket of your jeans. You put your phone back in your purse before you put your necklace back on when you hear another notification.

Megumi had sent you his location, so you followed the map on your phone screen without looking back. You were already quite far away and out of sight, but if you had turned around, you would have seen how your friends left the bar. And then you would have seen how Gojo and Getou were standing outside with them, with Shoko in their middle, waiting for the others. 

Shoko, who, as you told them earlier, was supposed to drive you home.

You are just about to get into his car as a call from Maki appears on your screen. Instead of answering it, you reject the call, and you lean over to Megumi to kiss him. Then you turn off your phone.

***

I know I don’t want to Be the one that you run to When you got nowhere else to go When you need some love

You watched as Megumi tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, while you were silently listening to the music playing in the car. He had one hand on your thigh and while he was driving the two of you sat in comfortable silence. The setting was much too familiar for you to be nervous around him.

"Why did you not even hesitate for a second when I texted you earlier?"

I know I’m the last one You try to call but I always give in To give  you  it  all

"What?", you ask after a moment. You understood what he said, but still.

"I know I hurt you, I mean-" He looked over to you, before turning back to the street.

"I mean, not only physically but also.. emotionally." 

Yue. 

The images of him being all over her came back flooding to your brain and you just shook your head as if you were trying to get those thoughts out of your mind. 

"Can we not talk about that?", you ask and try to smile at him, while you feel his hand squeezing your thigh.

I can’t be your midnight love When your silver is my gold

Megumi stays quiet after that. You sink deeper into the seat and think about the last time you sat here, think about what you said to him.

"Sometimes I feel like you've ruined me forever," you say after a while, staring out of the windshield in front of you. You let your head fall back against the headrest, before turning to look at him.

In this light, I swear I’m blind In this light, I swear you’re mine

"Well, it does sound romantic when you say it like that," Megumi replies after thinking about your words for a little while.

"I still love you, you know that?" He looks at you.

"Yeah, you said that, after kissing me goodbye earlier," you mumble, not taking your eyes off him,

"But why, though? Why do you love me, when you do all this?"

You can see that he thinks about your question for a moment, and when he speaks, it’s probably not quite what you wanted to hear. Rather, you wanted to hear why he hurt you so much, again and again, when he said he loved you.

"'Cause you’re smart. And cruel, in a way, but not really. You’re so beautiful I don’t ever get tired of looking at you."

"Not really smart?", you ask.

"Not really cruel," Megumi says.

You nod and you don’t say anything after that, at least not for little while. Instead, you watch the lights go by as the car pulls off the highway and slows down after another few minutes, eventually coming to a stop and you realize you're in the parking lot in front of Megumis dorm building. 

You look over at him, once again.

"You know, it’s funny that you say that," you observe, "it’s funny because that’s something I didn’t really realize until after you broke up with me."

"That you’re the cruel one, and not me."

You swallow and feel his hand leaving your thigh to turn off the car.

"Did you know that I loved you?", you ask, without taking your eyes off of him, "Of course you know that, I’ve told you often enough."

You told him right in this car, a few weeks ago. The exact same thing.

"I’ll probably sound like a broken record but I’m not talking about obsessing over you, or fighting or fucking," you declare and your hands start trembling, "I’m talking about love."

"Did you feel loved by me?" The question rolls of your tongue so easily but the minute you asked, you were afraid of the answer.

"I don’t know." He says, almost to quiet for you to hear him. That’s what you were afraid of.

"I don’t know if I feel anything, really," he adds,

"I just know that I love you. And I haven’t stopped, ever, since the moment I first saw you."

I hope that the right time one day arrives So I’ll be willing to let this die Able to look you right in the eyes Say I’m not your consolation prize

"You wanna stay the night?", he then asks, one hand still on the steering wheel, as if he needs to hold on to something. 

"I’d love to," you reply immediately.

***

You hadn't even made it into his dorm room as you were already pressed up against him, the two of you tightly entwined, one of his hands roaming your body while the other one was trying to unlock the door. As soon as you stepped into the building together you'd closed the distance between you, pressed your lips so gently to his, and he didn't stop kissing or touching you since, the way up to the second floor taking longer than expected.

You couldn't even begin to describe how good it was to feel him, to taste him, to smell him, to be pressed up against his body, to feel his breath on your skin as you heard the small pants he released into your mouth.

When Megumi finally manages to open the door, you almost lose your balance and you interrupt the kiss to catch yourself from stumbling. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he was able to catch you, his arms already wrapped around your body anyway. You noticed how content he looked, his eyes never once leaving yours, instead he seemed to get lost in them as he maneuvered you backwards into his apartment.

"What abou—mhmm," you try to ask, but you're quickly interrupted by Megumi pressing his lips to yours again as he closes the door behind you. 

"What about Noritoshi?", you try again as he pulls away.

"Hmm?", he asks, and you can almost see the question marks popping up above his head. 

Not a second later it dawns on him. 

"Ohh, no, he's still out of the country," he says, kicking off his shoes, before locking his lips with yours again.

Right, his roommate's semester abroad, you almost forgot that he’s living alone at the moment.

"Thank God," you murmur against his lips as you slip your hands under his hoodie and t-shirt, pushing them both up and feeling the goosebumps on his skin as you touch him. He grins at your words and you help him out of his clothes, which he tosses carelessly to the side.

Standing with your back to the door, you had already slipped out of your jacket, it had found its place on the floor next to his clothes. Your noses bump together in the heat of the moment as Megumi pulls your shirt over your head, his lips so desperate to find yours again after being separated for a moment. 

It causes both of you to giggle.

You look at him in awe, and even though you noticed earlier tonight that he must have lost some weight, he still looked so good. You reach out to him and touch his chest, your fingertips ghosting over his skin, tracing the outline of his abs down his stomach until you hook a finger into the waistband of his jeans, and you manage to open them up with the help of your other hand. 

You don't get much further than that, as Megumi presses you up against the door slightly, his hands roaming your body before opening up your bra in a swift motion, tossing it to the side just like he did with your other clothes. His lips were on yours again and he relaxes into the kiss, supporting himself with his left hand next to your face, while his right caressed your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips and tapping your thigh once, then twice, signaling you to wrap your hands around his neck, so you did. He picked you up with ease, his lips never leaving yours even for a second while your legs wrapped around his waist and he carries you through the room, over to his bed.

Megumi sets you down carefully on the mattress, pulling back for a moment to get rid of his jeans and pulling yours down as well before crawling after you. He hovers over you, supporting himself with both hands next to your face, taking a good look at your body before pressing his mouth to yours and forcing his tongue inside, making you moan against his lips.

His lips trail up your jaw, then down your neck to suck on your sensitive skin. You were lost in thought and the sensation made you flinch for a split second as you were still afraid of any kind of touch to your neck. You did your best not to show it, but of course he noticed.

"'m sorry, baby," Megumi mumbles against your skin, kissing up to the corner of your mouth, while you assure him that everything's alright. 

"It’s okay," you breathe, cupping his face with one hand as you look into his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, but you can see a smile tugging at his lips.

"What?", you ask, brushing a black strand of hair out of his face.

"You look so pretty," he sighs. After all, he was the only one that was able to make you blush like that.

"Oh, stop it." You loved it when he talked like this.

"No, I missed your pretty face," he insists.

"Missed those two pretty girls," he continues, as his lips trail down your chest, kissing your soft skin and latching his mouth onto your hardened nipple, while his hand began to play with the other bud. He drew a few soft moans from you, your fingertips grabbing at his messy hair. 

After giving some attention to them, he released your already swollen nipple with a lewd pop! to move his lips further down your body, peppering your stomach with kisses, his nose brushing over your skin and the cold air hitting your wet buds sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t help but whine as he kissed down the inside of your thighs, spreading them apart with his large hands while his fingertips were digging into you skin, revealing the damp fabric of your panties. As he kissed the wet patch that was already starting to form you had no other response for him than the needy moan that escaped your lips, and when you felt his teeth grazing at the seam of your underwear, you grew impatient.

"'Gumi, please," you whimper, your fingers still buried in his dark hair, now slightly tugging at the ends.

"Missed my pretty pussy," he groans, before pulling your wet panties to the side, making you shiver once again as the cold air met your slick. 

"Fuck, you’re so wet for me," Megumi hisses, swiping his thumb over your clit and through your folds, gathering your juices.

"All for me," he muses, looking up at you as you lie there, looking so pretty for him, with flushed cheeks and those lewd moans that you couldn’t stop from escaping your throat.

"Megumi, please," you plead, again, wriggling your hips downwards in his direction, "n-need you, now."

But he ignored your begging, savoured this moment to the fullest while he inspected your pussy, admiring how wet you were just from making out with him.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," you whimper and close your eyes, throwing your head back in a stubborn attempt to grasp a single, clear thought, while your mind was already growing so dizzy with him taking his time.

"Mhm, won’t let me enjoy the view for a moment, huh? So needy already", Megumi groans with a sly grin on his lips. He pulls down your panties in an agonizingly slow motion, keeping them in his hands before coming back up to press a kiss to your lips, which you return hungrily, causing him to chuckle. 

He pulls away, while staring deep into your eyes.

"Open your mouth," he orders while you just stare at him through glassy eyes. You’re perplexed for a second, looking at your panties in his hand.

"I said," he coos, lowering himself down to your ear, "open your mouth."

You finally obey, parting your lips and showing your tongue. Without another word he stuffs your dampened panties into your mouth, the sensation of your own taste on your tongue drawing a muffled moan from you. 

"Next time think twice before giving me orders," he growls into your ear, his low voice making you rub your thighs together in anticipation. You nod, moaning against the fabric as Megumi returns to his original position, and hooks his arms around your legs. Without another warning he licks a thick stripe along your dripping cunt, swirling his tongue through your wet folds, but never quite hitting your clit. He was still teasing you, not giving you what you wanted just because you acted up.

You let out a desperate moan, even though it’s muffled by the soft fabric stuffed into your mouth. A fat tear rolls down your cheek while you’re squirming beneath him, desperate for some attention on your swollen bud. 

His tongue circles your entrance, licking through your folds while he’s eager on not giving your clit too much attention. You whimper and whine, your body trembling underneath him as your hands let go of his hair, moving up your thighs towards your core when you couldn’t wait any longer for him to finally give you what you wanted.

The vibrations of Megumi humming against your slick left you wanting for more, and just as you were about to let your own fingers dive in, giving yourself some kind of release and rubbing at your clit, he grabs both of your wrists with one of his large hands and holds them tightly while he continued to lap at your sweet pussy. You’re left whining and begging, most of your sounds being inaudible, but he could hear how desperate you were. 

You almost choke on your own spit as you suddenly feel him sucking hard on your neglected clit, your hips bucking up towards him made him release your wrists from his tight grip. He dug his fingers into the plush of your thighs to force them back open and keep you from suffocating him between your legs, after they clamped down around his head at the unexpected sensation.

Those deep groans he was releasing into your sopping pussy made you even wetter, and it felt like Megumi wanted to drown in you, his tongue pushing in and out of your hole, circling your clit and sucking on it, while you were only able to roll your eyes back and whine in desperation, your moans getting swallowed as your mouth was stuffed full. 

You throw your head back again, breathing hard through your nose, while hot tears kept flowing down your cheeks, you couldn’t take it, it was just too much for you. 

Megumi glances up at you, watching you squirm and wriggle under his grip, enjoying every second of your struggle, while you felt your core tighten with every swipe of his tongue against your cunt. 

"Oh, I really fucking missed this pussy," he growls, with a grin on his lips, while all you could do was moan so desperately in return.

Your body tenses up as he flicks his tongue against your clit, and just when you thought that you were about to lose your mind, he brings a hand up to push a long digit inside of your clenching hole, sliding in a second as a response to your loud moans right after, pumping them in and out of you slowly, and stretching you out as your walls squeeze down on him. 

"Hnnngh," you whimper, everything else getting swallowed by your soaked panties. You were so close and he knew that, picking up the pace at which he was pumping his digits in and out of you, curling his fingers into your core, while his tongue was relentlessly drawing circles on your sensitive bud. 

"What was that?", he asks, a teasing smirk on his lips, "Speak up." 

You whine and squeeze your thighs together, when finally he pulls the fabric out of your mouth, a string of saliva still clinging to it as drool trickles down the corner of your mouth. 

"So nasty," he grunts, tossing your panties aside, "you’re close?" 

You nod with your eyes closed. "Mhmm," you whine, "’Gonna cum, please, make me cum." 

"Fuck, you look so hot," he groans lowly, "gonna cum for me? Go ahead, baby."

"I’ve got you, cum on my tongue." 

And just as he pushes a third finger inside you, tongue still relentlessly lapping at your wet folds, you let out a loud cry and your head falls back against the mattress. You can feel your cunt squeezing down against his fingers as your orgasm washes over you and your thighs start to shake as he pulls his fingers out, lazily rubbing your throbbing clit through your high, leaving you shuddering while seeing only stars behind your closed eyes.

It takes a while for you to come down again and you peel your eyes open to see Megumi hovering over your body, admiring the fucked out expression on your face. He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips, a small whimper falling from your mouth in return. You cup his face, almost too weak to reach your arm out for him, while he soothingly brushes his thumb over your cheek.

"Did so, so good for me, baby," he coos, you enjoy his praise, and having his warm body pressed up against you felt so familiar.

You’re too overwhelmed as you watch him pull off his briefs, the sight of his cock making you dizzy once again. It’s not like it’s the first time you see him, but every time he manages to make your mouth water just at the sight of how big he his, so big that you can already feel the sting he would cause while stretching you out.

"Tired?", he asks with a smirk on his face, and without waiting for an answer he grabs you by your hips and pulls you towards him. 

"Let me take care of that," he groans, helping you up to place a pillow underneath your hips, "Just relax for me, baby." 

Your face was still so hot, and your cheeks still flushed a deep shade of pink. Your head lolls to the side, exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids, as Megumi grabs your chin and turns your face towards him.

"Hey, look at me, babygirl," he chuckles, "'Wanna see your pretty face when my dick’s buried deep inside of you." 

Megumi wastes no time, smearing pre-cum that leaked from his tip along your still completely soaked cunt, and lining himself up with your entrance. You can’t do anything else than let out a helpless gasp as he presses the head of his dick into you.

"Fuck," he hisses, "'Been thinking about this since the last time I’ve got to fuck you." 

He pushes himself in slowly, the stretch of his girth still giving you a stinging sensation, even though his fingers were already trying to prepare you earlier. You can hear your own desperate whines bouncing off the walls of his bedroom, and as he grabs both of your legs to throw them over his shoulder to bottom out completely, a high-pitched moan escapes your throat.

"Fuck, y’feel so good, 'Gumi," you whine, "S-so big, stretching me out so well."

"You’re still so fucking tight," Megumi huffs, kissing your ankles while his hands grab onto your legs for support, "I won’t last long if you’re squeezing me like that, fuck."

All you could hear was the sound of his wet skin, coated in your juices, slapping against your ass, while he pushed into you, increasing his pace with every thrust, fucking you senseless. There was nothing there to muffle the lewd moans that left your lips and you were so fucked out that you didn’t care about his neighbors anymore, you weren’t even able to hold back your sounds.

He hit your cervix a few times in a row, causing you to see stars and desperately search for anything to hold on to. Those whimpers and whines that fell from your lips were in sync with his thrusts, and soon you were nothing but a crying mess beneath him.

"F-fuck, M-megumi," you sob, trying to catch your breath, your fingers digging into the sheets, "S-slow down, it’s too—nnghh." 

"Slow down?", a low groan escapes him as he rolls his hips into yours at a steady pace, "already got lost in this pussy, you better hold on tight." You look up at him, your eyebrows drawn together, and you see sweat trickling down his temples.

"Oh god," you moan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, while he fills you all the way up with every snap of his hips against yours. You feel like losing your mind for the second time tonight, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, sucking him in so deep that you’re wondering how he’s even able to thrust in and out of you at that pace. 

"Shit," Megumi curses, and you’re so close that you nearly cum again with one harsh brush of his pelvis against your swollen clit. He had already fucked you dumb, tears stinging in your eyes and when he leaned down, pushing your legs up to your chest, you knew that he was close too. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him made him falter and he had to support himself by clutching onto the headboard, to not completely crush you while leaning onto your body. 

You can feel how your walls tighten around his length and hearing his low, breathy moans against your ear made your second orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Megumi notices how you grab tighter onto the sheets, so he moves the angle of his hips just a bit to hit your sweet spot and it immediately does it’s magic, you’re left sobbing when you feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

"You gonna cum with me, baby?", Megumi pants and while you’re unable to form any logical sentence, all you’re able to reply is a drawn-out moan as he pushes you over the edge a second time tonight. You feel his thrusts getting sloppier with every stroke while your second high washes over you and then he practically collapses on top of your body. His body is trembling as he releases thick ropes of his load deep into your abused pussy, and you hold him while he curses and whines 'Fuck, you feel so good' and 'Shit, I was so afraid I lost you for good this time' 

and also 'I love you so much'.

He almost crushes you with his weight as he leans down and presses his lips to yours, drowning in that afterglow. You're too exhausted to say anything, so you’re just stroking his back soothingly, listening to your heart beating in sync, while you’re coming down from your high.

After a while he slides off you, not without planting another kiss on your temple, and grabs the blanket at the foot of his bed to pull it over you both, his body pressed up against yours behind you, one arm draped over your waist. You both lie in silence for a while, just enjoying each others warmth.

"I didn’t hesitate because I missed you so much I couldn’t even think straight," you mumble, answering the question he asked you in the car earlier.

"The moment you left the room, I knew I wouldn't see you again for a while."

"You do this every time, do you know that?", you swallow when you feel him pulling you in against his chest, "You treat me like shit, then we make up and you say you’ll stay, and then you're gone."

"Y/n…" You hear his raspy voice against your hair.

"No, we have to work on this," you insist and turn around to face him, your hand placed flat against his bare chest, "I don’t wanna lose you." Your voice sounded brittle, almost fragile.

Megumi sits up again, resting his back against the headboard, while you stay in your position, scooting over to him a little bit to lean your head against his side. "I promise you we’ll work this out, y/n." You were naive enough that this was sufficient for you. After all, you had no other choice but to rely on his words.

You climb out of his bed to put on your t-shirt and search for your underwear until you remember what happened to it. How convenient that you left some clothes at his place a while ago, so you go over to his wardrobe to find something suitable. You cringe a little at the sight of the white thong embroidered with the words 'Lucky You'. 

You bought it when you were like eighteen and you have to chuckle while putting it on. Well, you weren’t so wrong back then.

Megumi looks up after hearing you giggle and you throw him a pair of grey sweatpants and his black hoodie, which he puts on, but not without taking another look at you.

"Mhmm—guess I am," he rasps, lifting the covers to motion for you to come back to him, "Come here."

You grab your phone and walk over to him, cuddling up to his warm body while turning your phone back on. You wanted to know what time it was, and you remembered turning it off earlier when Maki tried to call you. 

Your phone screen turns white before you see your lock screen, a picture of you, Maki and Nobara, and as soon as it gets a signal, several notifications pop up all at once. You had about six missed calls from Maki and Yuta, even Shoko had texted you and right at the bottom of the screen were three messages from Choso.

'Are you with him?'

'Text me if you’re alright'

'I swear to god, y/n, if he hurts you, I’m gon…'

You weren’t fast enough to hide the texts from Megumi.

I can’t be your second best Close but not your favorite I keep going back for more Where there’s nothing from before

[spnhunter4life]

Familiar

Summary: Sam, Dean and Y/N are on a case, and it turns out Y/N is just the monster's type.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: reference to nonconsensual sex, canon typical violence

A/N: I've had this one done for a couple of weeks, but things have been very busy and so I just finally got around to doing a reread/edit of it. I hope everyone enjoys it!

This one includes the writing prompt "character A flipping positions and shoving B against a wall 'now this seems more familiar doesn’t it?'"

I don't remember where I found this. I have a list of prompts I saved, but didn't include who posted them, so if you happen to know where this came from, let me know and I'll give credit to that person.

Also, I've had someone ask me to be tagged in new stories I post. I am happy to do this, so if anyone else is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Masterlist

I met the Winchesters for the first time five years ago when I was 22. I was in college and had just moved to a new dorm building that turned out to be haunted by a ghost. I had been the next intended target when Dean and his dad stepped in and saved me. That was the last time I would see either of them for a long time, but I never forgot the faces of the people who had saved my life.

After that experience, I was obsessed with the supernatural. Dean and I had talked a little bit before they left town, and he told me about how he and his dad traveled the country killing monsters. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to be able to save people’s lives the way they had saved mine.

So a couple months later I dropped out of school and started getting ready to hunt. I signed up for a gym membership and started going everyday as well as taking boxing and Krav Maga lessons. My life had given very little opportunity for me to build muscle or learn to fight. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go into a fight with a supernaturally strong creature completely unprepared.

I gave myself a year to get in shape and learn to defend myself. During this time, I put every spare minute I had into research. I looked into what kinds of monsters were out there, how to kill them, which ones were most common. While doing all this research, I ran into a man named Bobby Singer. He had all kinds of helpful information and taught me how to track them down. I started the process of purchasing weapons I would need and also saving up money.

Once I felt ready, I set off on my first hunt. The overwhelming satisfaction I felt at saving a person from the ghost that had been haunting them was too much to ignore. I knew without a doubt now that this is what I should be doing with my life. So I went on another hunt. And another. 

Things were a little rough going at first and I got more injuries than I cared to admit – fighting a trained professional in a controlled environment wasn’t the same as going up against an angry monster – but my fighting skills improved and things started going smoother soon enough. I didn’t regret my choices.

I ran into Dean a little over a year later. I was looking into what I suspected to be a witch and had stopped for lunch at a local burger joint when I saw him. I recognized him immediately and went to talk to him. It took a little bit for him to remember me, but he did. When he asked what I was doing so far from home, I told him what I’d been up to since the day he saved my life. He seemed surprised and impressed. Apparently the people he saved didn’t often take up hunting afterwards. 

When I asked after his dad, he told me that they were starting to work separate cases on occasion. They still hunted together too, but not as often. 

Since we were both in town for the same reason, we agreed to work the case together. It was difficult at times, learning to rely on another person and factor their thoughts and opinions into what we were doing. I’d never hunted with someone else before. In other ways, though, it was so much easier. I decided I kind of liked having a partner. Dean and I worked well together.

He must have thought so too, because the day after we finished that hunt, he asked if I wanted to come with him to look into a string of suspicious murders a couple states over. I’d been hunting with him – and occasionally his dad – ever since. 

About nine months into our new arrangement, his dad went missing and so we picked up his brother Sam from school to help find him. Adding him to the mix had been another adjustment. That was two years ago now though, and we’d all found an easy rhythm together.

“We should go check this out,” Dean said, sliding the newspaper he’d been looking at across the table to Sam and pointing at one of the articles.

We were at a diner waiting for our breakfast to be brought out. Sam scanned the article.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, passing the newspaper to me when I motioned for it. I skimmed the article Dean had found. 

“Come on, Sam. Three murder suicides in under two weeks. That’s weird,” Dean insisted.

“It is weird. I just don’t see how it’s our kind of weird,” Sam answered. 

“Y/N? What do you think? You agree with me, don’t you?” Dean asked, confident I’d back him up. We typically saw things pretty eye to eye. Not always though.

“Well, actually I agree with Sam. There’s nothing here that really makes it sound like our kind of thing. But,” I continued, saying the word a little louder to stop Dean’s protest. “It’s only a few hours away and we have nothing else to do right now. So we might as well go check it out.”

“Alright, fine,” Sam agreed, sighing at the triumphant look on Dean’s face. “But I really think we’re wasting our time.”

“Right. Because we’ve got much more important, productive things going on here,” Dean said sarcastically.

“It’s never a waste of time,” I said. “Even if it ends up being nothing, making sure people aren’t being killed by something supernatural isn’t a waste. What if we decide it’s not worth checking out and it turns out it is our kind of thing? Then those deaths would be on us.”

“Ok, yes, you’re right. I already said we could go check it out,” Sam said.

“Well thanks for the permission, Sammy. I really don’t think we could’ve moved forward without it,” Dean snarked.

“Bite me,” Sam answered.

“Alright, cut it out you two,” I scolded.

The waiter brought our food out and we spent the meal trying to come up with ideas of what we could be dealing with. We didn’t come up with much since we had so little information to go off of. Dean paid our bill and we were just heading out the door when something occurred to me.

“Oh! What if it’s a siren?” I suggested.

“A siren? From Greek mythology? Like in The Odyssey?” Dean asked. 

“What?” Sam looked at his brother in surprise. 

“What?” Dean asked, a little smug and a little offended.

“What do you know about sirens?” Sam asked me, moving past his shock at Dean’s knowledge.

“Not much,” I admitted. We reached the car and I climbed into my usual spot behind Sam. “All the vics have been couples though, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, turning in his seat to face me. “Is that important?”

“All I really know about sirens is that once they infect you they convince you to kill someone you love. The only siren case I’ve heard of had several husbands killing their wives before it was stopped. So maybe in this case once the men realize what they’ve done, they kill themselves.”

“Seems like the best theory we’ve come up with,” Dean said. He backed the Impala out of the parking spot and headed out of town towards the highway.

“Let’s get there and do some digging around before we settle on a theory,” Sam cautioned. “But say you’re right. How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve already given you the extent of my knowledge on the subject.”

“Okay. Well at least we have a starting point. We can look into it more if that still seems like the most likely scenario after we’ve investigated things a little bit,” Sam said.

Apparently deeming the conversation finished, Dean turned up the music. I leaned my head against the window and watched the road blurring by.

~~~~~

The bar we were at was crowded, the music was loud, and the guy I was talking to was cute. Not stop and stare cute, but cute enough that when he came over to where I was standing at the bar and started flirting, I flirted back.

“So how long are you in town for?” Cute guy asked. I vaguely noted Dean in my peripheral vision, making his way to the bar. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed how irritated he looked. But I was trying not to notice him. He and I were just friends and would never be more. I’d accepted that. It meant I couldn’t let myself be distracted by him when there was a guy standing right in front of me who was interested.

“Don’t know yet,” I answered, giving him my best flirty smile. “I’m definitely here for the night though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean interrupted. “Come on Y/N. Sam’s waiting for us.”

“Woah, hey, come on man,” cute guy protested. “You can’t just come in here and force her to leave. We were in the middle of a conversation.”

“You were, were you? Sorry pal, but we’ve got important things to do. Go find someone else to bother.” Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me with him, away from the bar and towards the exit.

“Dean!” I hissed as I was forced to follow along behind him. “What is your problem?” I asked when we made it outside.

“What’s my problem?” Dean echoed, letting go of my arm and turning to face me. “What’s your problem? You know what we’re after here. What made you think it was a good idea to offer to go home with some random guy who for all we know could be the siren?”

I scoffed and started to walk towards the car, but Dean grabbed me again and pushed me up against the building. He stepped in close and put an arm on either side of my head, effectively caging me in.

“What are you doing?” I asked. It didn’t sound quite as irritated as I wanted it to. His close proximity mixed with the few drinks I’d downed had me too overwhelmed to hold on to my anger.

“Next time you’re wanting to scratch an itch in the middle of a case where the monster we’re after seduces people into murder, just save us the trouble and come to me instead,” he instructed. Then before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me.

I gasped in surprise and he used the opportunity to lick into my mouth. Finally catching up to what was happening, I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair and eagerly kissing him back. I never could have predicted this, but I was so thrilled it was happening. 

He made his way to my neck. He kissed a couple of different spots before finding a spot he liked and starting to suck and nip-

I woke up with a jolt and a gasp. I quickly took in my surroundings and realized I’d fallen asleep in the back of the Impala. 

“You ok?” Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at me. I realized we were parked outside a motel. The engine turning off must have been what woke me. I briefly met his eyes and was immediately bombarded with the images from my dream. 

“Yeah,” I told him. I managed to successfully fight the blush that tried to rise in the presence of the very man I’d just been dreaming about. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this sort of dream about the older Winchester. I doubted it would be the last.

Dean went inside to get us a room. We unloaded our bags and made a plan. We decided the boys would drop me off at the police station to talk to the sheriff while they went to question the medical examiner. We would meet at a diner a few blocks away from the police station when we were done. 

“What’s the connection between all of these people?” I asked Sheriff Jones once I’d introduced myself and explained why I was there.

“Connection?” He asked.

“Yeah. This many murder suicides in this short of a time, there’s something going on here. Maybe you’re wrong about the suicide part and it’s just flat out murder. Maybe it’s some sort of messed up pact these people made. There has to be something that connects them though. So what is it?”

“As far as we can tell, there is no connection between any of them. Sometimes these things just happen,” he said.

“How long have you been sheriff?” I asked. He was starting to get up in age, probably in his mid to late 50s at a guess. I assumed he’d been a police officer for a long time.

“Almost 20 years,” he informed me proudly.

“And in those 20 years, how many times have you seen something like this? Three different couples killing each other and themselves. One after another.”

“Well… never,” he admitted.

“Right. So what’s the connection? Graduated from the same high school? Go to the same gym? In a bowling league together? There has to be something that connects them other than them all being married.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” Jones corrected.

“I was told they were,” I said. 

“The last couple wasn’t. They were roommates, but as far as I’m aware, that’s as far as the relationship went.”

Damn. Did this throw a wrench in my siren theory? Not necessarily. Just because they weren’t together doesn’t mean one of them wasn’t secretly in love with the other. Or maybe they were really close and loved each other in a non romantic way.

“Great. I’m gonna need a list of close family and friends of all the victims,” I requested.

“What for?” He asked.

“To find the connection. You figure out the pattern, you have a chance of stopping it from happening again,” I said frustratedly. How were these idiots not investigating this further? Did they really believe it was just all a coincidence? 

Jones gave me a list of names and I left. I scanned the list on my walk to the diner, trying to figure out where to start and how long it might take to talk to these people. I rounded a corner and ran into an extremely attractive man. 

“Sorry!” I apologized as he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying.

“No worries,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “No harm done.”

Had I not spent every day of the past three years sharing close quarters with the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my life, I might have been caught off guard and turned into a mumbling mess. But my time with Dean mixed with the quick thinking and lying that was sometimes necessary for hunting meant I was able to keep it together.

“Still. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Well in that case, I was just on my way to get some lunch. How about you make it up to me by coming with?” He offered. It only took me a few seconds of consideration to make a decision.

“Sorry, but I’m busy. I’m on my way to meet a couple of colleagues for a kind of work lunch,” I told him.

“Ah. Well, maybe next time,” he smiled.

“Maybe,” I agreed, knowing there wouldn’t be a next time. I sighed as I continued my walk to the diner. He was awfully good looking. Under different circumstances, I probably would have taken him up on his offer. 

I walked the last couple of blocks and noted that the familiar black car wasn’t in the parking lot. I went in, found an open table that would fit all three of us, and sat down. I had to wait about ten minutes before Sam and Dean walked in. 

“Hey. What did you find out?” I asked once they were seated.

“Not much. There wasn’t anything unusual about the bodies as far as anyone could tell. The ME did say that based on the most recent body, she wondered if the suicides weren’t actually suicides though. She’s looking over the other two bodies again to see if it could have been staged to look like a suicide,” Sam told me.

“That qualifies as not much to you?” I asked. “I mean, granted it doesn’t really up the weird factor. But what if they missed something else too? Something they wouldn’t know to look for?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Dean said smugly.

“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion again,” Sam told his brother as the waiter came over. We rattled off our orders to him and waited for him to leave before continuing.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asked.

“No. I do have a list of people for us to talk to though,” I answered. I took the list out of the pocket I’d tucked it into after folding it up and handed it to Sam.

“What, the cops have a suspect list?” Dean asked.

“No,” I snorted. “Whether or not this ends up being our kind of case, I feel bad for the people in this town. Their idiot sheriff doesn’t even think it’s worth looking into. It’s an open and shut case as far as he’s concerned.”

“What’s your list then?” Dean questioned, leaning over to read over Sam’s shoulder.

“Close family and friends,” I answered. “I’m hoping we can figure out what connects them all.”

“Right,” Sam said. “It’s not like we can monitor every single married couple in this town on the off chance they might get murdered.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” I told him. “I guess the last two were just roommates.”

“There goes the siren theory,” Dean sighed.

“Not necessarily. It still could be,” I said.

“How?”

“Sirens don’t target married people specifically,” I explained. “They just make you kill someone you love.”

“So you’re saying they were living together as friends but secretly in love?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

The waiter brought out our food and we made a plan as we ate. Dean wanted to check out the crime scenes first. Sam argued that we might get more information from talking to people. I wanted to side with Dean because I really wasn’t looking forward to interviewing ten different people, but I had to agree with Sam. Might as well get this part out of the way. We could look at the victims’ houses after.

~~~~~

Several hours and too many interviews full of crying loved ones later, we stood in our motel room going over the information we’d gathered today. The ME had called an hour ago and confirmed that it was flat out murder, not murder suicide. We hadn’t gotten any useful information out of any of the people we talked to today though, and we were all a little frustrated. 

“Alright, well the roommate vics were extremely close,” Sam recapped, thinking out loud. “Which means Y/N’s theory on them loving each other pans out, leaving a siren as the most likely culprit. But how are we supposed to find it? We still don’t have anything that links these people together,” Sam grumbled.

“And why is it killing people?” I added. “Usually they leave the killing to their victims. Maybe we missed something.”

“Or,” Dean cut in, standing up from the chair he’d been in. “We'll find the answers we need at the crime scenes. Which I said we should look at four hours ago.”

“Yeah, Dean. We know,” Sam snapped.

“Let’s just figure out our next step,” I interjected. 

“Maybe we should do some research on sirens. It would be easier to track it if we can figure out where they live, how they make people do what they want, that sort of thing,” Sam suggested.

“C’mon Sam, we’ve spent all day doing research on the victims. Now you’re telling me you want to do more research?” Dean complained. “What we should do is go to their houses. I’m telling you, if we want answers, that’s where we’ll find them.”

“Maybe, but we still have to know what we’re up against,” Sam pointed out. “Why don’t you and Y/N go check out the houses. I’ll stay here and research,” he suggested. 

“Fine. Let’s go,” Dean said, satisfied with this compromise. He went outside and I heard the Impala’s engine roar to life a few seconds later. 

Sam grabbed his laptop and settled in to work while I grabbed my coat.

“Let us know if you find anything,” I said. Sam assured me he would and then I followed Dean out the door.

We decided to split up to cover ground faster. Dean would drop me off at the first house and head to the second house himself. When he was done there he would pick me up and we would look at the last place together.

Dean parked outside the first house, a small blue one with a row of flowers planted along the front of it.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” he told me as I was getting out of the car. He drove away and I walked into the house, ducking under the police tape strung up on the door.

The first room I walked through was the kitchen. Other than a few unwashed dishes in the sink, it was spotless. I knew the murders had happened in the bedroom, so I didn’t expect to see much in the rest of the house, but I was looking for any sort of clue that would lead us to the siren. I took a quick look at the pictures on the fridge but didn’t see anything that would help.

The next room was the living room which was also clean. A cursory scan of the room told me these two were huge movie fans. There were several movie posters hanging up on the walls, an entertainment center overflowing with DVDs, and a little box full of old movie tickets. I didn’t know how this could be a connection with the other couples, but it was clearly a big part of their lives, so it was worth making a mental note of. Other than that, I didn’t see much. A brochure for a yoga class stuck underneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. A framed picture of the two skiing was hanging on the wall. I noticed a coffee mug with what I assumed was the name of a local bar printed on the side. I made another mental note of both the yoga class and the bar just in case.

Then I moved on to the bedroom. Even if I hadn’t known ahead of time what happened in here, it would have been pretty clear. There was a bloodstain on the bed and the blankets were rumpled, like there had been a struggle on top of them. One of the pillows was knocked on the floor. The nightstand on the left side of the bed had been knocked over, a picture frame shattered beside it. And there was a second blood stain on the cream carpet.

I braced myself, turning off the part of my brain that wanted to be horrified and turn away from the scene. I looked around the room for any sort of clue as to who the siren might be or where it might have gone. It would be a lot easier if I knew what exactly I was looking for. Sam was right. We should have done the research first. 

After thoroughly searching the bedroom and the bathroom and finding nothing, I made my way back out of the house. I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, but I was getting more doubtful that this wasn’t something the real FBI should be handling. I stepped back outside and saw the cute guy from earlier walking past. He heard the door close behind me and looked over.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered as I walked towards him. “I do believe that’s a crime scene you just walked out of. Not exactly legal.”

“It is when you’re FBI,” I told him, pulling out my badge. It identified me as agent Y/N Perry.

“That explains why I haven’t seen you around before,” he said, not seeming overly surprised by the news.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again. 

“I live next door,” he told me. “I didn’t really know them. Terrible what happened though.”

“It is,” I agreed. My phone rang and I took it out of my pocket, seeing Sam’s name on the screen. I excused myself to answer it.

“Hey, Sam. What did you find?” 

“Have you heard from Dean?” He asked urgently. 

“No, why?” I asked, immediately worried. Before he could answer, everything went dark.

~~~~~

Sam’s POV

“What do you got, Sam?” Dean asked immediately upon answering my call.

“Not much, but I think I’m starting to figure out more about this siren,” I told him. I hadn’t had time to gather much information yet, but what I had found mixed with a quick phone call to the ME was starting to clear things up.

“Like what?” 

“So get this. When sirens… put you under their spell or whatever, it leaves high levels of a hormone called oxytocin in your blood.”

“So?”

“So, I called the ME and asked her about it. There were high traces in three of the victims. The female victims. For whatever reason, this siren is going after the women, not the men.”

“Son of a bitch! Please tell me you called Y/N before you called me,” Dean said.

“Why? Aren’t you together?”

“No,” Dean growled out in a tone of voice that suggested stress and frustration. “We split up to move faster.”

“Alright. Well don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll call her now,” I said, trying to calm him.

“I’m going back to get her. I’ll call her on the way.”

Before I could argue that he was already worked up enough and should just focus on driving I heard a thump, Dean grunting, and then the sound of his phone clattering on the ground.

“Dean!” I yelled. No response. I hung up and headed outside. I needed to find a car. Once I had one ready to go, I started driving to the closest address on the list.

~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

The first thing that registered in my mind was the way my body was shaking. I heard a distant voice calling my name as consciousness slowly found me. It took a few seconds for me to fully wake up and process what was happening. The shaking was due to the hand on my shoulder, trying to jostle me into consciousness. The voice was Dean’s, and it wasn’t distant. It was right in front of me.

My head was pounding. I tried to remember what happened. I was outside waiting for Dean. Sam called. Then what?

“Y/N!” Dean said a little louder. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again, hissing at the pain that shot through my skull from the bright light in the room. Someone must have hit me over the head. Who? No one else had even been around. Except for that guy I bumped into earlier. He must be the siren then.

I felt a surge of frustration at my stupidity. How did I miss it? I knew it was weird that he just happened to be outside that house.

“C’mon. We should get out of here,” Dean encouraged, pulling me to my feet.

“Just a minute,” I pleaded as a wave of dizziness rushed over me upon standing. I braced my hand on the wall beside me.

“What happened?” He asked. “You didn’t answer the phone.”

Once the dizziness passed, I slowly opened my eyes. The pounding in my head was intense, but it was more manageable when I took things slow.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Who, the siren? Dead,” he told me. That was good news I guess. I didn’t know how much help I’d be in a fight right now. He was almost entirely supporting my weight. Then something occurred to me.

“How?” I asked, looking up at his face. “We don’t know how to kill them.”

“Well I had a machete with me. I couldn’t walk in here completely defenseless. When I saw him standing over you, I cut his head off. Apparently that’s all it takes,” he explained.

I looked around the room, searching for the body, and realized this was the house of the first murdered couple. We were in the living room.

“He brought me in here?” I asked.

“Well. It was close by. And there isn’t much chance of anyone walking in. Made it easy for me to find you, too. How are you feeling? Ready to go?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I told him. My head was still pounding, but the dizziness was gone.

“Good,” he said, carefully turning me to face him. “I was really worried about you.” Then he kissed me.

I so badly wanted to be able to enjoy this. I’d dreamed about it so many times but never imagined I’d ever build up the courage to tell him how I felt. Or that my feelings would be reciprocated. 

I placed one hand on the back of his neck and gave myself a couple of seconds to be sure my balance was good. Then in one quick motion I stepped to the side and used the hand around his neck to shove him face first into the wall.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He yelled, clutching a hand to his bleeding nose. 

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, watching closely for any indication he was about to run or attack.

“I am Dean!” He insisted. He held a hand out placatingly and took a step towards me.

“Stay back,” I warned him. I reached into my boot and grabbed the silver knife I kept there at all times. “I know a shapeshifter when I see one.”

He dropped his hands and stood up straighter, a cocky smile gracing his mouth. He started to walk in a slow circle around me.

“What gave me away?” He asked casually.

“A few things,” I answered, rotating my body to keep him directly in front of me at all times. 

“Like?” 

“Where’s Dean?” I asked again.

“Oh, he’s fine for now. Just a little tied up at the moment,” he smirked.

I lunged for him, hoping to catch him by surprise. He easily blocked the knife I had aimed directly at his heart and threw a punch that caught me in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked the breath out of me, but I recovered quickly and slashed out with the knife at the hand that was reaching for my hair. He hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the fake Dean growled. “You know you can’t win. Might as well save yourself some of the pain.”

My head was killing me and the dizziness was threatening to return and become a very serious problem. I waited for his next attack. I didn’t have to wait long. I saw his muscles tense to move and then he closed the distance between us quickly. 

He reached out for the hand that was holding the knife, trying to force it out of my grip without touching it. I took advantage of the way he focused on the knife to kick his knee as hard as I could. His knee buckled and I used all the strength I had to push him into the wall behind him. I pressed the knife to his throat.

“Where is Dean?” I demanded.

“What gave me away?” He asked again. I couldn’t believe the arrogance. Did he really not care about anything but the fact that I’d seen through him?

“I’m not going to ask again,” I threatened, pressing the knife just a little harder into his skin. “Where is he?”

“Quid pro quo,” he offered. “Answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

I seriously debated just killing him, but decided to humor him just this once. He wasn’t going anywhere and I’d get the answer out of him one way or another.

“First of all, Dean wouldn’t just sit there waiting for me to wake up. He would have just carried me out. Secondly, he has a scratch on his jaw that hasn’t healed all the way yet. That particular scratch is missing from your face. Third, if he’s not sure which weapon to bring with, he always chooses his gun. Silver kills a lot of things, so it’s usually the safest bet. Also, where’s the body? You said you killed the siren, but there isn’t a body. And as far as that goes, you don’t have a machete either.”

“Hmm. You’re observant,” he said. “Not observant enough though. Otherwise you probably would have seen this coming.”

His hand shot up and grabbed my wrist, pushing the knife away from his neck. He pressed hard on the tendons there until I was forced to drop the knife. Then he spun us around, pressing me up against the wall. He pinned both of my wrists to the wall and leaned in close, his breath brushing my face.

“Now this seems more familiar, doesn’t it?” He smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat.

“No?” He mocked, pressing his cheek to mine and talking directly into my ear. “You’ve never dreamed about Dean pressing you into the nearest wall and kissing you breathless? I think you have. Many times. As recently as just a few hours ago.” 

I whipped my head to the side to look at him. He grinned triumphantly. 

“That’s right. I’ve been inside your head. I know exactly how you feel about this pretty boy of yours.” 

I bristled at the way he had stolen Dean’s face, tried to use it against me, and was now flaunting that fact.

“You don’t know anything,” I spat. He just continued as if I hadn’t said anything.

“That’s why I chose you. It was pure coincidence running into you, but you’re a very attractive woman, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Give what a shot? Murder? News flash, you’ve already done that. I’d suggest branching out and finding a new hobby.” I pushed lightly against his hands, testing the possibility of breaking free. That wasn’t an option. He was holding on tight, and I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a battle of strength.

He smiled and kept ignoring me.

“You see, I had to turn into you first to get in your head and see if you fit what I was looking for. It was a shock, of course, to find out that you’re a hunter. But it turns out you did fit my needs, and you and your friends were so far off the mark, I knew I’d be safe enough.”

“What do you mean, I fit your needs?” I asked. I had a plan to escape his hold, but as long as he was content to talk, I wanted answers.

“Well you’re in love of course,” he said.

“So?” I didn’t bother denying it. Like he said, he’d already been in my head. 

“So,” he answered as if I was being extremely stupid. “Isn’t it so much better being with someone when you’re in love?”

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. Being with someone? What was he talking about? What did it have to do with murder? 

I felt a wave of horror and disgust wash over me as I understood his meaning. He’d posed as the men the women were in love with and slept with them before murdering them both.

“If it’s any consolation, they died happy,” he told me. “Well,” he amended. “The women did, anyway.”

“So what?” I snarled. “You thought you’d come in here looking like Dean and I’d just take my clothes off for you? Just like that?”

“Well, not just like that. But I figured you’d be willing enough once I had some time to convince you.”

I remembered how he had kissed me before. I assume that was the kind of convincing he was referring to. 

“We still could, you know,” he offered. He brushed his lips gently against mine and I jerked away. “You can pretend I’m him and I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted.”

“Right before you kill me, you mean?”

“Well obviously I can’t let you live,” he said.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said. I drove my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch. He may not have been entirely human, but he still went down as hard as any human man.

I dropped down to pick up my knife, doing my best to ignore the pain the quick movement caused in my head. I didn’t give the shapeshifter time to recover. I immediately turned to him and drove the knife into his heart. He gasped in shock and pain and then collapsed, unmoving.

I rose to my feet and made my way – a little unsteadily – out of the house. I was pretty sure I had a concussion and that fight had taken all the strength and energy I could muster. As I stepped out of the house, a car came screeching down the road and parked next to the only other car on the street. I didn’t know if I could really handle it, but I prepared myself for another fight.

The driver door opened and a tall man stepped out. Sam, I realized when he called my name. And the car he was in was the Impala. How had he gotten it? Sam ran over to me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Are you ok? What happened?” He asked.

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, ignoring his questions.

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for both of you,” Sam said. “I found Dean’s car at the second house, but no sign of him. I was hoping I’d find him here with you.”

Just then we heard a muffled banging noise coming from the other car on the street.

“Stay here,” Sam told me, drawing his gun as he walked towards it. I was in no position to argue seeing as the dizziness was returning and I was struggling to keep my balance. He stopped by the trunk of the car. “Dean?”

“Sam! Get me out of here,” I heard Dean say from inside.

“Just a second,” Sam breathed out in relief. He tucked his gun back into his jeans and went around to the front of the car in search of the keys. He pulled them out of the ignition and then opened the trunk. Dean jumped out, fuming. He was down to just jeans and a t-shirt, the shifter having stolen the rest of his usual layers.

“Where is it? I’m gonna kill it,” he seethed, marching towards the house. He paused momentarily when he saw me swaying on the sidewalk and then hurried over to me. He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and put his own around my waist to help me stay balanced.

“What happened? Did the siren do something to you? Where is it?” He asked.

“It was a shapeshifter, not a siren,” I told both him and Sam who had followed close behind his brother.

“Was?” Sam questioned.

“It’s dead,” I said.

“That explains why my clothes are gone,” Dean said irritatedly. “Why is it that we seem to be leaving behind a trail of shapeshifter bodies wearing my face?”

“Well, you’re an objectively good looking guy. Maybe they just can’t resist all the girls they know they’ll get with a face like that,” I teased.

“Alright, well you’re obviously in even worse shape than I thought,” Dean said, half teasing half genuinely worried. I guess I haven’t ever said anything to him before about him being attractive. This concussion was loosening my tongue apparently. “Sam, you mind getting the body? I’m gonna get Wobbly here to the car.”

“Why can’t we just leave it?” Sam asked.

“Because I want my clothes back for one thing,” Dean replied. “And for another, I don’t want to be blamed for yet another set of murders.”

“Good point,” Sam agreed. He headed for the house.

Dean turned us towards the car and the movement caused me to trip a little on my own feet. The adrenaline was fading away, leaving me helpless to fight off the dizziness that I thought had disappeared.

Rather than let me stumble my way to the car, Dean moved the arm he had around my waist a little higher on my back and put his other arm under my knees, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me. I couldn’t be bothered to keep my head held up and rested it against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked, referring to my balance issues.

“He caught me by surprise and hit me over the head. I think I have a concussion.”

“You thought he was me, so you didn’t see it coming,” Dean said. He adjusted my weight so he was able to open the car door.

“No. He looked like someone else. I turned my back to take a call and he hit me. When I woke up he was pretending to be you,” I explained.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighed as he gently set me down, careful not to hit my head.

“Why?” I wondered.

“He took me out too. Only I didn’t even know he was there. If I’d been paying attention better, I could have stopped him before he got to you,” Dean said, ashamed.

“Not everything is your fault, you know,” I told him. I saw Sam step out of the house, a large body tossed over his shoulder. “This isn’t on you. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over.”

I could tell he didn’t agree with me and he would beat himself up over this for a while. But he left to open the trunk for Sam and I was too exhausted to try and convince him otherwise.

~~~~~

An hour later Sam was watching over me while Dean went to take care of the body. I sat on the lumpy couch and held a bag of frozen peas to the back of my head in an attempt to bring down the swelling. I’d taken Ibuprofen as soon as we got to the motel and both the headache and the dizziness were slowly starting to fade. I’m sure finally sitting still helped the situation too.

“Why do you think it killed them?” Sam wondered aloud. “I mean, how did he choose his victims?”

“He chose women that he considered beautiful and that were in love. He turned into the man they loved and when he was done with them, he killed them,” I answered even though he hadn’t actually been expecting an explanation.

“He told you?” He asked, surprised.

“In way too much detail,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment.

“You know what I don’t get? If it wasn’t a siren then where did the oxytocin come from?” 

“The what?” I asked.

“Oxytocin. It’s a hormone that sirens infect you with,” he explained. “Actually, Dean was on his way to warn you when he got ambushed. I told him that all the women had high levels and so it looked like they were the ones being targeted.”

My face drained of blood at the reminder of what that thing had done to those women. Of what he’d tried to do to me.

“I know what it is,” I told him. “And it’s not specific to sirens. It’s a naturally occurring hormone in the body. Ever heard of the love hormone?” At his nod I continued. “It occurs during childbirth, breastfeeding… and sex. That’s why he wanted women that were in love. He said it’s so much better that way.” 

Understanding showed on his face alongside a mix of horror and protective anger.

“Y/N… he didn’t?”

“No,” I assured him quickly. “Not me anyway. I figured out what he was too quickly.”

Relief replaced the other emotions on his face and he stayed silent as he processed this new information. Then he wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“You said he chose women that were in love,” he said.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“So why did he go after you?”

I was practiced enough at hiding my feelings for the older Winchester from both brothers that I didn’t even have to hesitate to come up with an explanation.

“I guess he found me attractive. Per his usual pattern, he turned into me to see if I was in love with anyone and found out pretty quickly that I’m a hunter.”

“Then why did he turn into Dean?” He asked.

“He was pretending to rescue me,” I answered.

“Right, but why? What’s the point? If he wanted you dead, he had the chance. There was no reason for him to mess with you that way.”

I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for this, so I stayed quiet.

“He wasn’t just going after you because you’re a hunter. You fit the profile he was after and he wanted to-” he cut himself off and considered his wording. “He wanted to… complete his usual pattern. Because you’re in love with Dean,” he surmised, smiling a little bit at this conclusion. 

I decided silence was the best option here. I couldn’t possibly contradict his completely accurate deduction. I wouldn’t outright confirm it for him, but I wasn’t going to deny what we both knew to be true.

“Y/N.”

More silence.

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he promised. I sighed.

“You know you’re not,” I told him.

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” He asked.

“There’s nothing to do about it,” I answered. “He doesn’t see me that way. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted it.”

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same if you don’t tell him?”

“Sam, I’m really not in any condition to do anything to you right now, but I swear if you say anything to him, there’s going to be hell to pay in a couple of days,” I warned.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he said, offended by my assumption. “But I really think you should tell him. You guys are so great together. I think you would be good for each other. And I would be very happy for you.”

“Thanks, I guess. My head hurts too much to even consider thinking about this right now,” I told him.

“Alright, fine. I’ll let it go,” he conceded. “For now.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After that we sat in companionable silence while we waited for Dean to get back. Sam turned the TV on. I closed my eyes to block out the light and just listened to it, finding it to be a suitable distraction from the day’s events.

Dean got back probably twenty minutes later by my estimation.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked as soon as the door was shut behind him.

“A little better,” I told him. 

“Good,” he said. He took the peas from my hand and gently felt the lump that had formed on the back of my head. “I think the swelling might actually be going down a little bit.”

He took the now room temperature peas to the freezer and switched them out for a fresh bag. He handed it to me and then sat down beside me, putting his arm around me. 

“Is this ok?” He asked. He didn’t know the details that Sam did about the shapeshifter’s intentions, but he knew that I had been attacked today by a guy wearing his face. 

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” I told him. “I know it wasn’t you. For the record, I knew the whole time it wasn’t you. I’m fine. I’m not traumatized and I’m not afraid of you.”

“A simple yes would have been fine,” he teased, pulling me closer into his side.

Movement from Sam’s direction had me glancing at him. He just smiled at me, looking meaningfully at Dean and then winking at me. I would have rolled my eyes if the action wouldn’t hurt my head. Instead I pointedly looked away from him. Things with me and Dean were fine the way they were. I wasn’t going to mess it up now just because Sam knew about my feelings.

A romantic relationship with Dean was something I wanted, but not something I needed. This right here – sitting together with my two best friends, knowing that even though I was temporarily unable to defend myself should it be necessary I was still safe and protected – this was all I needed. At least, that’s what I’d continue to tell myself.

Chapter 2

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