#this would take the story in a different direction

[bestrongbebrave49]

I think a lot of people don’t seem to realise that every book does teach you something but not necessarily from a moralistic point of view; books with unreliable narrators and shady characters teach you that the world isn’t kind and that perception can be warped. That two truths can co-exist simultaneously and that people either intentionally or unintentionally lie to themselves and/or others as a means of self-preservation, gaining something for themselves, and/or simply because change and self-awareness are difficult when you lack the desire (for whatever reason) to do so.

However, let’s say you love the twisted character and you’re enjoying their deceptive nature, their manipulative engagement with others, and the self-centred actions they take. What does that say about you personally? The answer is way more simple than a lot of people assume; you enjoy learning about the darker aspects of human behaviour in a safe environment where that characters actions can never harm you.

You enjoy the violence because it’s not being directed at a real person. You cheer on the character because through the power of words you’ve found them compelling, exhilarating, relatable, disturbed, fascinating - they are a fictional lens of darker aspects that you can cheer on because they are solely comprised of words, or are portrayed by an actor, or are lines drawn on to a page.

Books can and do teach you empathy, injustice, a difference in perspective. They broaden your mind and give you comfort with the parts you may relate to. They push you out of your comfort zone and wrap you in a thrilling experience whereby you can escape from your troubles whilst seeking enjoyment.

But they are also fictional depictions and if you cheer for the villain that doesn’t mean you have failed morally. It means you found a fictional character compelling. If you enjoy the morally reprehensible events in a book, it means you like the fictional depiction of events - not that you condone those actions in real life.

I love Ramsey Bolton - from the shows granted haven’t yet finished the books - I cried when his character was no longer a central figure. That doesn’t mean I would go up to a real life perpetrator of such violence and congratulate them, cheer them on and demand they suffer zero consequences. Books teach you a lot about what you do and don’t like in fiction; what tropes, characterisations, themes and plots you prefer from ones you don’t. They can teach you right from wrong but that doesn’t mean they necessarily have to or that every book should. Many stories expect you to already understand morals before you crack the spine open.

Every book you read will be a journey of self-discovery, but that’s all every book should teach you really - more about yourself. What aspects intrigued you, excited you, and drew you in? Which repulsed you, and why were you offended, scandalised and uncomfortable during the reading process? Was that the fundamental purpose of the story or was there something in the text that hit a nerve?

I certainly have a purpose for what I personally write, but equally I write things for fun. When I write a morally reprehensible act it’s not because I want the take away to be - go forth and do these things - but simultaneously I want people to enjoy reading the scenes and find enjoyment in them.

I want whoever reads my stories to come away with some sort of understanding of themselves; whether it be a comforting aspect or an unsettling one - an understanding of new knowledge they didn’t have before the reading experience, or merely the cemented fact that they enjoy something they already knew they liked. I want them to learn they like my writing or for my writing to help them understand that something in the text - heck, maybe the whole book - just wasn’t for them.

Every piece of art we interact with will help us uncover something about ourselves however minor or major that discovery may be, and no matter or how brief or long our engagement with said artwork is.

Yes, books are teachable moments where morals are concerned, but if you’re using them purely as a moral testing means then I’m sorry (truly) but you’ve been unintentionally engaging with the art form in a damaging way.

“it sounds like you’re justifying their actions-“ i am. they’re a fictional character. i’m okay with anything they do all the time. hope this helps.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado…

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[samandcolbyownme]

@bambisturnioloalt ‘s 𝐍𝐎 𝐍𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓!

I have chosen to write a Matt Sturniolo angsty fic. I also want to give a shoutout to @cursedtriplets for helping me come up with the idea. Enjoy! 🖤

Summary: Things go downhill, and downhill fast when reader catches their crushes girlfriend cheating on him at a party.

Warnings: strong language, angsty, partying, drinking alcohol, blackmail, mentions of cheating, reader being sad, angry, all of the emotions, slight arguing, friends to lovers, happy ending

Word Count: 6.3k

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The news about Matt getting a girlfriend hit you hard, it felt like salt to a stab wound - the stab wound being you not saying anything sooner.

Her name was Scarlett, but everyone called her Letty, per her request.

The first time you met her, it was kind of awkward. She didn’t really say much of anything and you felt judgment radiating off of her, but you seemed to be the only one to pick up on that because no one said anything after she left.

Over the next few weeks of her meeting everyone, she really opened up. It was almost like she became a totally different person, a bitch if you will.

She would glare at you when you would say anything involving Matt, or even glance in his general direction.

For example, the one night you all ordered in and decided to just hang out at their house. Nick and Chris were going around telling stories about Matt, you know, trying to embarrass the new boyfriend, and she was laughing and going along with it for the most part.

But, as soon as you opened your mouth to tell the story about how they took you to top golf one time and Matt almost fell over the edge, she changed the subject, suddenly wanting to start the first movie of the night.

You brushed it off, along with the other hundreds of little things she’s done within the time she was there.

“Hey.” You whisper as you sit down next to Nick on the couch, “Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, glancing up at you from his phone, “Why are we whispering?”

“Because I don’t wa-“

You stop talking as Matt and Letty come out from his room, “Hey, I’m taking her home. I’ll be back in a little.”

“Nice seeing you Letty.” Nick smiles and she waves, giving him a big cheery smile back, “Bye Nick!” She glances over at you and pulls Matt with her down the steps.

You wait for the door to close and you head snaps towards Nick, “Did you see that?” He shrugs, shaking his head, “See what? How she didn’t say bye to you?”

“Yeah, and how she just looked at me.” You shake your head, “I don’t.. I don’t think she’s really good for Matt.”

“When I ask you this, I’m not trying to make you mad or anything, okay.” Nick looks at you and you nod, “I won’t get mad.”

He raises his brows and lets out a sigh, “Are you saying this because you’re jealous she’s dating Matt?”

“N-no. I’m not.. jealous.. why would you even ask that? I’m asking because she doesn’t seem to accept that I’m one of Matt’s best friends.”

“Why do you think that?” Nick tilts his head and you sigh, trying to regulate your anger from growing into something bigger, “Every time I’m around you guys she’s all over him, and when I try to tell a story about Matt, she cuts me off and practically begs to go home.”

You snap, “That time you and Chris were telling stories about Matt, she was all giggly and going along with it, but as soon as I spoke up to say about how he almost fell off the ledge at top golf, she magically wanted to start the movie night.”

Nick sits there in silence and you tilt your head, “I’m not jealous of Letty. Okay. I’m just.. looking out for Matt, he deserves someone who isn’t going to use him for.. looking better.”

“You think.. Letty.. is using Matt for clout?” Nick’s brows furrow and he shakes his head, “I think they really like each other. She’s a total sweetheart, y/n. I think you just-“

“If you say I have unresolved problems, I am going to smack you upside the head.” You glare at him and he tries not to laugh, “I’m just saying, that you need to look at the bigger picture. Matt seems to be happy, and he’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

You chew on your cheek, not really wanting to argue, “Yeah. You’re right.” You stand up, walking over to the hook to grab your keys, “I’ll see you later.”

“Y/n.” Nick groans, “Wait, I didn’t mean- you said you wouldn’t get mad!”

You look over at him, “You didn’t do anything, Nick. It’s good, we’re good. Just please, don’t say anything to him.”

He nods and you give him a small smile, “Thank you.”

You walk down the steps and you glance up, seeing Nick staring down at you from over the ledge, “Do you like Matt?”

“Bye, Nick.” You laugh and walk out of the front door to your car. You stop when you see Matt pull in next to you, but you force yourself to just walk to your car.

“Hey. Leaving so soon?” He asks as he gets out, and you glance back at him, giving him a nod, “Yeah, I have to go shopping for an outfit for this party.”

That was a lie. You already had one.

“Oh, okay.” Matt nods, tapping the top of his car, “Well, have fun.” As you open your door to get in, Matt walks up to you, “Wait. Before you go..” he pauses and you look up at him, “What’s up?”

You can feel the anger building up inside of you, wanting to burst out from him not seeing just how bad his longest best friend is being treated by someone he just met.

“What do you think of Letty?”

The words made your skin scrawl, you wanted to just get in your car and drive away without having to answer that question, but you had more respect for Matt than that.

“I think.. she’s pretty.” You laugh slightly, which causes him to laugh, “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

You swallow what you really want to say, tilting your head as you rest your arm on the top of your car, “I think she’s good for you, Matt.” You shrug, “I mean, we all just met her, not at that long ago, but I think it’s going good.”

He gives you a slightly weird look, but nods, “Yeah, I’m just glad that everyone gets along. It would be pretty weird if we didn’t, you know?”

You stifle back a laugh, “I think it’s all good. Going good. Um..” you point to your car, “I’m going to be late for picking up Gabs, so.. I better..”

“Yeah yeah, you’re good.” He smiles, tapping your car, “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you going to the party tomorrow?”

He turns around, shaking his head, “Not my scene, but you have fun though. Call if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah.” You nod, “I will.” You get into your car, glancing up as Matt walks into his house and you let out a sigh, allowing the self ass kicking to begin.

I lied to Matt, I never lie to Matt. Wait, I’ve lied about having feelings for him. Pretending everything is super platonic between us- Why can’t I just be honest with him? Fucking Christ.

A part of you was terrified to even say anything about your feelings towards him in the first place. You were, still are, scared it would affect the perfect, well, almost perfect relationship you have now. You haven’t ever really lied to Matt, the only time you really did lie, was when you were planning a surprise party for him and his brothers.

Besides, Matt showed absolutely no interest in being with you in anyway more than a friend. All of his actions were consistent, nothing more nothing less.

Your mind stays busy and loud the whole way to your house, from Matt, to your conversation with Nick before you left, to every interaction you’ve had with Letty, and then the upcoming party.

You were really banking on getting so fucked up at this party that you just forget about everything for a while.

You needed a mental break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Since you got home yesterday, Nick texted you a few times to make sure you weren’t actually mad at him, and you weren’t.

He clocked you on your shit, why would you be mad at him for being right about that?

You were jealous. You are jealous.

You’re jealous of a girl who has what you’ve wanted for so, so long, but at the end of the day, it comes down to being no one fault but your own.

For keeping your feelings in a block of cement in the back of your mind.

Your phone chimes, and you let out a sigh, half expecting it to be another just making sure we’re good text from Nick, but it wasn’t. It was Gabbie, You still going tonight? I’ll pick you up around eight.

You tap the screen, giving her a short and sweet answer, So ready to get wasted.

You toss your phone down and head to the bathroom for a shower. You took your time with it, then getting out and blow drying your hair before making your way to get dressed.

As you sat down at your vanity to do your makeup, your phone chimes and you glance back, shaking it off before turning back to continue your makeup. After a minute or so, the second notification goes off.

You groan, spinning around and leaning forward to grab it. To your surprise, it’s a text from Matt, Hey, Letty is going to this party tonight, do you think you can look out for her? She said she’d be fine, but she’s told me stories of her and alcohol not being friends and I just worry.

“Oh great, so now I’m a babysitter?” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you type back, Yeah, I’ll watch out for her.

He texts back a quick thanks, and you return to finish getting ready.

Finally, after finishing your makeup, you were ready and Gabbie was just pulling up. You walk out, getting into her car, “Guess what duty I have tonight.”

“Oh no. What?” Gabbie looks over at you as you buckle and you scoff, “Fucking babysitting duty.”

“For who!?”

“Matt, well. Letty.” You roll your eyes, “He texted me and asked me to watch out for her since he isn’t going to be there. I don’t know.” You look over at her, “Something doesn’t feel right about it.”

“Yeah, that’s a little sketchy.” She nods, “Why doesn’t Matt just go?”

“Says it’s not his scene, which, I get. He isn’t big into parties.. never has been, really.”

“How’s that situation going?” Gabbie asks, “The whole, you having feeling for M-“

“It’s not.” You cut her off, “So yesterday, before I left their house, I tried bringing it up to Nick but he just called me out on the truth and I didn’t want to accept the truth, so I just left. He keeps asking if we’re good, and I keep telling him yeah, which isn’t a lie, I’m just..” you stop, taking a breather, “I’m just pissed at myself for letting something I could have potentially gotten, go.”

Gabbie nods, “Tonight is your night to just let go. Do what you want. Drink what you want. I’ll keep a lookout for Letty, you just have fun and focus on you.”

“Thanks, but if something happens to her, godforbid it’ll fall back on me somehow.” You shake your head, “I can only hope that she just decides to stay home.”

But that wasn’t the case.

She was there, almost all of her was there.

She showed up in this super tight dress that barely covered anything. Two post its and a corn chip would suffice better than this dress, one wrong move and out comes a boob.

“I wonder if Matt knows she’s wearing that.” You swallow as you look at Gabbie, “I wouldn’t wear that even if he was with me, you know?”

“Just like you said a few days ago, y/n. You have more respect for him than she does.” She takes your hand into hers, “Come on. She’ll be fine.”

Over the next hour, the party grew larger and your urge to be there grew smaller.

You tried pushing through, but Matt was heavy on your mind. He was like welded into it, nothing could push past it.

She doesn’t deserve him.

He’s too good for her, hell he’s too good for me, even.

“Hey.” Gabbie snaps you from your thoughts, “Come with me to the bathroom?” You nod, taking her hand and following her up the steps.

You haven’t seen Letty in a little while, as soon as she showed up she blended into the crowd with the other petty snobs.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling Gabbie to a halt, “Listen.”

“I thought you had a boyfriend, Scar.” A guy’s voice breathes out, “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” You furrow your brows and step closer to the door that’s cracked open.

“I do, but do you see him anywhere?” Letty giggles and your heart sinks into your ass. You look at Gabbie a she shakes her head as she mouths, “I’m gonna fucking kill her for you.”

You hold your hand up as Letty giggles, “I like Matt, don’t get me wrong, but there’s just something about him that I like more. Something that will.. help me in the long run.”

“Oh yeah?” The guy chuckles, “What’s that?”

“His fame. His followers. Once they upload the video of me in it, I’m bound to get some of his followers, right? And then you know what will happen after that.” She laughs and the sound of making out ensues, “More fame for me.”

A few people come up the steps and you panic, pushing Gabbie into the bathroom. You flip the lock on the knob and press your ear to the door.

“There the fuck you are!” The one guy slurs, “Come on, it’s pong time!”

“You guys go, I’ll be right down.” The same guy from the room answers, “I have to finish something first.” You hear Letty speak up, “No it’s okay. We can go down now. We can always finish this later.”

You rest your forehead against the door and close your eyes.

“Y/n?” Gabbie grabs your shoulder and you turn around to look at her, “What are you doing?”

“I have to tell Matt.”

She nods, “Yeah, I-“

There’s a knock on the door and you panic again, “U-uh, one second!” You press your finger to your lips and point to the shower.

Gabbie nods, immediately stepping into it as quietly as she can as you flush the toilet. You turn the water on, letting it run for a few seconds as you make sure the curtains on the shower is fully closed like it was before.

Another knock sounds and you sigh, turning off the water, “I said one se-“ you open the door and see Letty standing there, “Hi, you and I have to have a chat.”

“About what?” You tilt your head and she smirks, leaning in to look into the bathroom, “I know you like Matt.”

You shake your head, “What would make you think that I like Matt?”

“Stop being stupid, y/n. I see the way you look at him, talk about it. It’s pretty obvious, well..” she laughs slightly, “I guess, not to everyone because if Matt knew how you felt about him, you’d be with him.. or maybe.. you wouldn’t.”

“What are you talking about, Letty?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know how strong of a friendship you have with the triplets, and frankly, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like that you’re not the only one they give their attention to.” You scoff, “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Alright, fine. You want to cut to the chase, well cut to the chase. Matt will believe anything I say. You try and tell him what you heard and saw up here, I will make your life a living hell, got it?”

“And just how do you plan on doing that?” You shrug, “What, are you going to go to Matt first and tell him that I’m on my way to tell him that I caught you fucking cheating on him?” You shake your head, “He doesn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

“No, no. Because you aren’t going to breathe a word about tonight.”

“What makes you think that I won’t?”

She squints, a smirk spreading across her lips, “Because they’re all you have anymore. I mean, Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re always up their ass. At their house. In their car. If it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t have anything but a low paying job in the worst part of town.”

“That’s not true.” You swallow your tears, fighting back the urge to lash out, hard, “I grew up with them. I’ve known them a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

She shrugs, “Maybe. But, all I know is that you aren’t going to say anything to anyone about this, or else I’ll tell Matt that you are so in love with him that you tried talking me out of being with him for your own personal gain. I mean, there’s a reason you haven’t told him, right?” She laughs, “Afraid of losing him and his brothers, because again, they’re all you have. Plus, it’ll be so weird being around you, to sit there and see you sulking all the time even though they’ll try to push past it because they’ll feel bad for you.”

A sad part of you felt like she was right, no matter how hard you tried to not believe it, you knew that there was a high chance that it would ruin everyone’s relationship with you and make it awkward as hell.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” She laughs and you look at her, “More like bitch, but whatever works for you.”

Her face falls and she puts her hand on the door while leaning in, “You have three options here, y/n. You can just act like nothing happened tonight. Come clean about your feelings for Matt to see who he chooses, or you call Matt, tell him what you saw, but without proof, who do you think he’ll believe?”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, I might be, but who’s fucking Matt almost every night, huh?” She smirks and steps back, “Well, it was fun. But I have to leave soon, I told Matt that I’d come over after this party. You think he’ll like my dress?”

She waits for you to answer and you snicker, “Doubt it.”

“But there’s so little to take off. I’m sure he’ll like the easy access, yeah?” She tilts her head while pouring, “Oh right, you don’t know that side of him. What a shame.”

You roll your eyes, “So what. I don’t tell Matt about what I saw and you won’t tell him what you think you know? I can just deny it, did you ever think about that?”

“Hmm. I guess you have a point. But, you’re good at acting, so either way, I’m sure you’ll make it out unscathed.” She smirks, lifting her hand, “See you tomorrow for game night.”

Fuck. Game night.

You watch her walk away and you slam the door, taking a step back to assess what just happened.

Gabbie whips the curtain back and stands there staring at you, “are.. you okay?” You shrug, shaking your head, “If I could just magically push away this anxiety about my feelings for Matt and tell him, I would but I just.. god I fucking hate that bitch.”

You move to sit on the edge of the tub, “What the fuck do I do? I can’t just lie to Matt about something like this.. if he finds out I knew about this.. the only thing I’ll be kissing is my friendship with him goodbye, and everything Letty said will be true.”

“It won’t. Okay.” Gabbie sits next to you, “You want to know why?”

You look at her, giving her a nod.

She pulls her phone up, “I recorded most of that.”

You snatch the phone from her hand, “You did not!” A hand raises to cover your mouth as you listen to the recording.

“I’ll send it to you, so when you’re ready, you can use that as your proof. Fuck that bitch.” Gabbie shakes her head, “She must have got her audacity on sale because that was not it.”

You nod, “I agree.” You look over at her, “Want to go get something to eat? I need to leave this party.”

She nods, “Let’s go.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You tossed and turned all night. You couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter you had at last nights party. The more you thought about it, the more it made you feel sick. Your anxiety just kept getting worse and worse.

What if Matt doesn’t believe me, even with proof, you can’t see anything so what if he thinks it’s fake?

What if Letty does tell Matt and he just blocks me?

What if-

“Y/n?” Gabbie taps your hand, “What’s going on, you’ve barely touched your breakfast.”

“I’m just.. thinking..” you bring your cup up to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down, “What if Letty has him so wrapped around his finger that he’s just so blinded by her to not even-“

“You’re getting a head of yourself.” Gabbie sighs, “You need to think about what you want to do about your feelings for Matt, first. Okay?”

You nod, covering your face with your hands, “I’m so in love with him, but the fear of being rejected by him is just so.. loud, higher? Whatever the term.. is, I don’t fucking know.”

“I think Matt will be more understanding than you think.”

You look at Gabbie through your fingers, “You’re just saying that.” She shakes her head, “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been around them for so long, this is what.. Matt’s first girlfriend in how long?”

“What are you trying to say?” You tilt your head, resting your hands in your lap, and she sighs, shifting towards you, “What I’m trying to say is.. what if Matt was waiting for you, but you didn’t say anything, so he tried to move on?”

“Do you think that’s a possibility?”

She shrugs, “I definitely wouldn’t write it off just yet. I mean, you haven’t dated either, you’ve talked to guys, but why do they never work out?”

“Because they aren’t.. Matt..” you look at her and she nods, “Exactly. I don’t think this thing with Letty will last long anyway. You just need to get your shit together before storming in there and spewing out shit that doesn’t even make sense, you know?”

You nod, tilting your head to look out of the window, “Yeah, I know. I want to tell him. I just get so nervous around him, he makes me feel, I don’t know, like that happy giddy feeling? I just don’t want that to go away, I don’t want it ruined.”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t know, there’s just so many what ifs I just-“ you look down at your phone, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Gabbie leans over, “Is that Letty?”

You roll your eyes, reading over the text, Hey bestie, just reminding you of our little deal that we have. Last night got a little crazy, not sure how much you drank to try and forget about it.

You tap the screen fast, I’m not gonna lie you have a lot of red flags.

She instantly answers and you laugh as you read it, like what?

“This bitch, I swear to god.” You mumble showing Gabbie your phone, “She’s literally fucking insane.” You nod, “That’s what I’m telling her.”

You type back, well firstly, you’re actually insane.. and two, you just can’t blackmail someone to get your way. It’s not going to end well for you.

You see the chat bubbles popping up and down and you shake your head, “I swear to god.” Your eyes move across her text, think of it as you scratch my back, I scratch yours. You don’t tell Matt, and you get to keep the only good thing you have in your life.

“I’m telling Matt.”

The words tastes sour on your tongue, but you knew it was the right thing to do, “Fuck, I could puke.” You run your sweaty palms down your thighs, “Oh fuck, Gabbie. How do I- what do I-“

You look at the new text, Just play it safe tonight, don’t talk to him, dont talk about him, don’t even look at him, why can’t you like Chris or something, god. It would make everyone’s lives so much easier.

“Just play it safe tonight.” You mock her, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Maybe you should wait another day. You don’t seem.. I don’t know how to put-“

“Stable enough?”

“Yeah.” She laughs slightly, “Stable enough to do this yet.”

You shake your head, “I feel like puking being in the same room as her knowing she can flip my world upside down at any second. But then, if I don’t tell Matt, that just makes it seem like I was condoning her actions, and I just-“

“Look at me. Look at me and listen.” Gabbie lays her hand on your shoulder as you turn your head, “We have proof. I think you keep forgetting about that, y/n, and these texts. She basically admitted to blackmail.”

You nod, looking down at another texts that comes through, but this time it’s from Nick, How was the party last night? Did you make it home safe?

You instantly type back, I went home before I even got buzzed. My night was kind of ruined but I’ll explain it another time.

“Y/n.” Gabbie sighs, “Now they’re going to know something is up.” You shrug, “I don’t want to lie to any of them anymore, gabs. I can’t just-“ you stop, texting Nick again, Is Matt or Letty there?

“If they aren’t, I’m going to tell Nick everything.”

Your heart was racing as you awaited his answer, sweat building up on your palms more and more as each second passed, “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Did he answer?” She leans over, “Oh, he just did.” She looks up at you as you look down to read the text, No, him and Chris are out getting stuff for game night tonight.

“Go.” You look over at her and nod, “Go to their house.”

“Are you s-“

“Go! Before I change my mind.”

She nods and starts the car, immediately putting it into reverse, “I’ll come in with you.” You nod, tilting your head back as you talk yourself out of puking, “Fuuuuck.” You groan, “All of this could have just been av-“ you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, “I hate myself.”

“I think you’ll feel better once you get everything off of your chest.” She nods, “If not, you have me.”

“Now isn’t the time for jokes, Gab.” You look over at her and she raises her fingers off the wheel, “Sorry, sorry. I’m nervous for you.”

The drive to their house felt like hours.

“Fuck.” You sigh, “Just do it. Just tell Nick everything.” You try to hype yourself up, “Fuck. Fuck.” You reach for the door handle, your hand shaking like a leaf in the winds of a storm, “Fuck. Okay.”

You open the door and get out. Your legs felt like jello the whole way up to the door. Nick calling out your name made your heart stop, “Y-yeah.. it’s me.. and Gabbie..”

“Gabbie!? I haven’t seen that bitch in ag-“ Nick stops at the top of the steps, “Do we need to hide a body?”

You raise your brows, “Yeah, we just might.” You walk up the steps and glance back at Gabbie, who stops at the stop and leans on the ledge, “Go on.”

“Go.. on.. with what?” Nick looks between the two of you confused and you take a deep breath, “Last night at the party..” you look down, gathering yourself before you look up, and in that moment, you were struck with word vomit.

“Letty cheated on Matt last night at the party, I heard her in a room with another guy kissing and saying that she was only using Matt to gain more fame from your guy’s following and then she cornered me in the fucking bathroom basically blackmailing me into not telling Matt anything and Gabbie has it all on recording she hid in the tub but that’s not the point okay the point is is that she tried to blackmail me by saying she would tell Matt that I liked him and that I tried to talk her out of her being with him by saying awful stuff about if I did try and ruin her getting what she wants, and, Nick, you know I would never do that. I love Matt. To the fullest fucking extent, I love him with my full entire being, I want him to be happy and her fucking cheating on him made me want to rip her fucking head off right then and there and the last thing I want is for my relationship with any of you to be ruined because the only thing she was right about is me only having you guys and Gabbie. I never said anything before because I was so scared of the rejecting being soo bad that I could never be able to show my face around here again I just, I fucking hate myself for not being truthful but I fucking told you, I fucking told you she had it out for me and she was only using Matt I just- she’s an awful fucking person Nick and I just wish there was a way for me to tell Matt everything.”

“Y/n.” Gabbie says and you turn, freezing when you see Matt and Chris standing on the steps staring at you.

“They came in when you were saying your thing.” Gabbie clears her throat, “Um.. okay, why don’t.. we give these two some space, yes? Yes. Come on you two, with me.”

Gabbie pulls Chris with her and grabs Nick on the way by.

You stand there, absolutely shaking in your boots as Matt continues to stare at you, a shocked look on his face. You wanted the silence to end, it only made things worse.

Finally, Matt breaks it, “You.. you love me?”

“I-I..” you voice cracks as you nod, speaking in a whisper, “so.. much, Matt I-“

Your words were cut short by him walking over to you, his hands grabbing and pulling your face towards him to close the gap, “I love you.. so much, too.”

Your hands move to his sides, immediately kissing him back. He pulls his head away, his hands still on your face, “I’m sorry she did that to you.”

“I’m sorry she did that to you, too.” You sniffle, “I should have told you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call or text or-“

“Hey, hey.” Matt’s thumbs gently brush up and down your cheeks, “You were scared, but you made up for it right here, right now.”

“Do you want to see the proof?” You sniffle, reaching back to bring your phone out from your pocket. He nods, “I believe you even if I don’t see it.” He gives you a gentle smile, “I’m just, sorry I didn’t see how she was treating you sooner. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, “She didn’t scare me. The only thing that scared me was the thought of you never speaking to me again.”

He shakes his head, “I could never do that.” He kisses your head and motions to the couch, “Let’s listen to this shall we?”

You laugh slightly and nod, walking over to the couch with him. You sit next to him, wiping away your tears as his arm goes around your waist, his other hand resting on your thigh.

You being the video up and turn the volume up. All you see on the video is the shower curtain and your shadow on the other side.

“Alright, fine. You want to cut to the chase, well cut to the chase. Matt will believe anything I say. You try and tell him what you heard and saw up here, I will make your life a living hell, got it?”

Matt furrows his brows, shaking his head as he lets out a sigh, “She won’t do shit.” You smile slightly, tilting your head as the video continues to play, “…or else I’ll tell Matt that you are so in love with him that you tried talking me out of being with him for your own personal gain. I mean, there’s a reason you haven’t told him, right?”

He shakes his head, “Yeah, there’s..” he sits up, pushing the phone away, “I’ve heard enough.”

You put your phone down, “Sorry.”

“No, y/n. You don’t have anything to be sorry for, alright? You did the right thing, Letty on the other hand, she can..” he groans lowly, “I’m done.”

He pulls out his phone and you hear the line ringing. Your heart races as you await the pick up of his soon to be ex girlfriend.

“Hi Matty!”

“Is there anything you want to tell me about last night?” Matt tilts his head as he stands up and instantly, Letty puts on a facade, “Whatever you were told is a total lie! I swear. People just don’t want to see us be happy, Matt, please you have to believe me!”

“It’s hard to believe you when I have a video recording of you fucking threatening one of the closest people to me right here in front of me, Letty. Don’t even try to play the fucking victim card, what the fuck were you trying to do? Blackmail? Seriously?” Matt scoffs, “I should have seen how you were from the start. You put on a pretty good act.”

“What do you mean there’s a recording? What are you talking about? I didn’t blackmail anyone, I was with Serina and Layla the whole night, Matt, please! You can even ask them.”

Matt reaches over, taking your phone to hold up to his as he presses play, “What? Cat got your tongue?” Letty’s laugh rings from the video, “More like bitch, but whatever works for you.”

Matt smirks, glancing over at you and you smirk, giving him a shrug.

“No i-“ Letty groans, the video still playing, “You have three options here, y/n. You can just act like nothing happened tonight. Come clean about your feelings for Matt to see who he chooses, or you call Matt, tell him what you saw, but without proof, who do you think he’ll believe?”

“Yeah I think this pretty much covers as proof, Letty. Sounds like blackmail to me, does it not?” Matt clenches his jaw, waiting for Letty to speak, but she just huffs, “You can’t even prove that that’s me, though, Matt. Please.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.”

Matt can’t stifle back his laughter with your words on the phone and you look down with a smirk on your lips, you were very proud of how you handled her, and Matt was, too.

“Yeah, I might be, but who’s fucking Matt almost every night, huh?”

“Well, it was fun. But I have to leave soon, I told Matt that I’d come over after this party. You think he’ll like my dress?”

“You didn’t come over last night, you never actually planned on it, did you?” Matt continues speaking, “And it’s actually really fucking hilarious you say that because we haven’t even had sex one time. You’re such a liar and my life will be great if I don’t ever see you again. I don’t care what you say about me, but keep y/n’s name out of your mouth.”

Matt hangs up and you look up at him, “You really never had sex with her?”

“I couldn’t.” He swallows, walking back over to sit next to you, “It just felt wrong because it wasn’t.. you.. I couldn’t even kiss her without trying to picture your face.”

You nod, “I kept looking for you in every guy that tried to keep my attention, but it never worked out because they weren’t you either.”

You reach up and cup his cheek, “I’m sorry I didn’t-“

Matt cuts you off with a kiss, “You don’t ever have to be sorry when it comes to me.” He kisses your lips a few times, “I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.“

You shake your head, “It’s alright, now that there isn’t anyone keeping us apart.” You smile and bring it in for one more kiss.

You hear the quiet and slow footsteps of the others and you pull away, looking behind Matt, “It’s safe to come in now.”

All three of them come in and sit on the couch next to you and Matt, “Is it safe to say that I never really liked Letty?” Chris raises his hand and looks around and you reach over to high-five him, “You and me both.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Thank you @bambisturnioloalt for giving me the opportunity to join this event, and thank you to everyone who reads my work. I love you all so much and I will catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[dogtoling]

General life- and blog update , since I assume at least a few people might have been wondering where I've been and what i've been up to recently. I obviously haven't been posting or drawing much this year in general. This will probably be an important post if you care about stuff on this blog, and I already rambled on Sheezy, but that site isn't very populated yet and it's also very good at hiding journals so let's just ramble again...

The summary of this post if you hate reading: I'm heavily considering just stepping away from Splatoon. That decision obviously would affect this blog (mostly, my OCs, which is kinda most of the blog at this point). I don't think the blog itself will go anywhere, and I'll probably use it for something in the future... alternatively i'll cherry pick stuff from here into an archive for people who like the worldbuilding.

Longer post under cut:

So what have I been up to this year? The answer is quite simple: NOTHING. Like, actually absolutely nothing. Aside from Art Fight, this has probably been one of my worst art output years of all time, which is really frustrating. That's between my horrendous mental health and depression chasms this year and a complete lack of both focus and inspiration (which can also get chalked down to the depression to a degree, yeah). So the very real reason to why there hasn't been much activity on this blog this year is because I just haven't Done Anything in general.

Now because I know there will be a few people who think "that's fine! you shouldn't judge yourself based on productivity!" you're right! I also agree. However the issue for me specifically is that most (if not all) the time I spend NOT drawing or creating, I spend sitting around wishing I could start drawing or creating, because that is like the 1 thing that keeps me sane on this freaking earth. Unfortunately coming up with OC scenarios in my head doesn't really result in output I can feel fulfilled by in any form as much as I wish it did, lol.

Now; The Issue. It doesn't take a genius to see that if you spend 9 months trying to finish like a dozen OC pages that you COULD do in a week or 2 if you wanted to, then there's probably more than just the problem of executive dysfunction (even though that's at least 60% of it for sure). Obviously my other major problem is that I live by imaginary rules and structures that make sense, but aren't actually useful at ALL in reality and are more than a hindrance if anything (the mental to do-list in my head that says i can't do X until I've done Y doesn't do very much if task Y takes 10 months and I also don't want to do it, and it also has no structured ending).

How does this tie into stepping away from Splatoon, you may ask. Well, the issue is that I have foreseeably fallen out of love with the series. Which isn't exactly news lol. Currently, I'm not even sure i will get the next game, if and when the time comes. Yes, the loss of interest is also expected, given that Splatoon 3 has ended and every fandom has this kind of downtime and lukewarm in-between-titles period. But the truth is that modern Splatoon (almost 10 years old!!!!) is tangibly different from the way the series was back when I fell in love with it. That was Splatoon 1, and while the series has improved in a lot of aspects and is thriving, it's grown in a direction that I just don't really like. Splatoon 3 had the most freaking horrendous, immersion breaking story mode they could've done, then they followed it up with a DLC story that was pretty cool but also compounded a lot of my fears about the series' future and played into every single thing i do not want Splatoon stories to be - fully character focused, random fucking villain, mundane event that's unrealistically world-threatening just because a kids video game needs a scary climax even though it's immersion breaking AGAIN, the whole thing taking place in cyberspace and thus offering basically no worldbuilding even though there is SO MUCH WORLD. I COULD GO ON.

The gist of it is that nowadays, rather than playing Splatoon and being inspired and excited at what comes next, I mostly find myself dreading what dumbass plot they will do next to throw a wrench in the otherwise good stuff. And when that's like THE main approach I have to what's supposed to be my favorite series, it is HARROWING. I can't even really blame the game for this; the story is NOT its selling point, the developers probably do their best to get the bits to us that they really want to tell, and at the end of the day the game is unfortunately a product. Worldbuilding for Splatoon is fun to a point. It's less fun when in order to actually write or create something coherent, instead of filling in the blanks, the blanks are 90% of the freaking thing. At that point you're just better off making something of your own instead of being anchored onto an IP that gives more problems than answers and occasionally shoots you with like a machine gun. Working in the realm of Splatoon is frustrating because more often than not, the questions I have ARE NOT MINE TO ANSWER, and the likelihood that the specific-ass questions I need answers to will ever be actually addressed is really low.

Tying this back to my OCs. Obviously I love my OCs more than I love myself which admittedly isn't that high of a bar but you get the point. The problem is that I spend a lot of time mulling over worldbuilding that, again, frankly isn't mine to do. Because if I want it to be Splatoon, then it should be mostly accurate to how Splatoon is! But the problem with that is that there's really not THAT MUCH worldbuilding in the series that you can work with, and most of the core game mechanics are just abstract enough that it's actually horrendous to try and come up with workarounds and ways for things to make sense that don't require just constructing a full knockoff version mirror dimension of the game and saying fuck everything that's in place here because Inkopolis Plaza literally has no roads in or out of there and I have no fucking idea how that's allowed when your only option is to jump the fence (or, nowadays, take the train which also isnt connected to a street as far as I remember). Between the face value issue and the lack of REALLY IMPORTANT worldbuilding, like - I will always come back to this - THE INK TANK'S FUNCTION 10 YEARS DOWN THE LINE - there's a goddamn ocean of plot holes and things that end up being obstacles to creativity rather than inspiration. I feel like I'm pretty solidly at the point (and have been for a while) where hanging onto Splatoon is really only contributing to creativity block and frustration with lack of freedom and the ability to actually do things.

So I guess those are my reasonings that I've put together just sitting here for the time being. The TL;DR is that I wish I could just do stuff without Splatoon's canon getting in the way, which is a really stupid problem to have if you're making Splatoon OCs. I feel this frustration extremely strongly every time I have to work with actual bigger aspects of the world; we still don't have an Inkopolis map, we don't know what the world around Inkopolis looks like, we don't know what the wilderness is like aside from Just Normal Forest and Desert and very few snippets as to what modern wildlife MIGHT be, I still don't know how the fuck the Inklings teleport to the goddamn arctic ocean to play a turf war at Shipshape Cargo co. These are all actually really important things if you're trying to establish a setting in any kind of storytelling that's outside of immediate city bounds (and even there, you need to know the layout of the city and its important areas). Also a fucking mutant bear and a baby salmon and a squid not wearing suitable gear went to space and fought on a rocket in space. These are some things that would give me peace of mind to not have to deal with in my own writing, probably.

So where do we go from here? Unsure. I haven't really made a decision on this front yet, though right now I'm leaning more towards actually going ahead with trying to do my own thing. That will result in obvious design and setting changes for my OCs whenever I get around to it. This blog probably won't go anywhere (again, unless I impulse delete it during a mood swing like i've almost done on like three separate occasions this year), but it will probably get less use, and I will probably end up making a new blog to post about whatever I end up doing once I get to a point where it feels like it makes sense. There's a chance that I will delete this blog and put all the interesting stuff on an archive blog for the people who are here just for the worldbuilding. My actual true passion for a long time now hasn't even been Splatoon anymore, it's just been cephalopods. I'm kind of done having Splatoon get in the way of the cephalopods, as thankful as I am that it introduced me to them...

If you read this to the end heres a treat for you = 🍪

[darker-than-darkstorm]

Did I reblog this one before? I might have.

Anyway, this was the first Shadow novel I ever read (this exact edition, too), though I'd been listening to the radio shows for years — thanks to local radio stations having "old time radio" blocks, not because I'm nearly 100 years old. :D

The Shadow of the novels is very different from the radio show. He has no powers, but he's a master of stealth, disguise, and gunplay, wielding a pair of .45 Magnums, and with a veritable army of "agents". Also unlike the radio Shadow, who would rarely kill villains (and that was mostly in the first season, where he killed indirectly by setting up traps, warning the villains about the traps, and then shrugging as they ignored his warnings and fell into the traps anyway; most villains died by falling into their own traps), the Shadow of the novels killed people all the time, most often by just shooting them.

Most of this story is told from the point of view of Harry Vincent, one of the Shadow's agents (who never appeared in the radio show) and the Shadow himself doesn't appear until very late in the book (or, more accurately, he actually shows up really early in the book, but the reader doesn't learn which character he's disguised as until near the end).

The other novel I read was The Ghost Makers, a smaller story about a bunch of con artists running phony seances. A police officer, Detective Cardona, who had only one line in one episode of the radio show (and that line was something like "Yes sir"), is the main character in that, receiving coded messages from the Shadow in bouquets of flowers, though the Shadow does take a more direct hand in things.

I've also read a three-novel omnibus, The Weird Adventures of the Shadow (with novels The Grove Of Doom, Voodoo Death, and Murder by Moonlight), that were written later, after the radio show became more well-known, where the Shadow himself is the point of view character, and he's written more sympathetically. Margo Lane (who was created for the radio show) also appears in these stories.

Good times.

Vintage Paperback - The Shadow #07: Gangdom's Doom by Maxwell Grant (1970)

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stage Kiss

Written for Throne of Glass Microfics

This accidentally ended up the size of two microfics but I’m tagging you if you’ll still have me @throneofglassmicrofics

Prompts: mainly indulge but I ended up using mayhem too

Warning: teenagers

Words: 1,9k 🫣

1st run

Today, at 3:30 p.m., Rowan would kiss Aelin Galathynius on the cheek.

Pathetically enough, this little knowledge was on the forefront of his mind all day. Not his classes, no. Just Aelin’s ivory—occasionally rosy—cheek.

“Whitethorn!” Fenrys shouted in the hallway several steps behind, forcing him to turn and stop so his friend could catch up. “Looking good,” Fen said, playfully slapping the back of his hand against Rowan’s bicep.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He thought that going to the gym every day—plus taking supplements behind his mom’s back—would magically make him more confident. It didn’t. The only difference was that he looked slightly less thin, so now Fenrys occasionally catcalls him and reacts to his IG stories with the flame emoji.

Even worse, Remelle Wiselheade was now hitting on him. His plan to get Aelin’s attention absolutely backfired.

As if he was a mind-reader, Fenrys said, “And how does it feel to be Aelin’s husband?”

Rowan blinked. “Uh…”

“I mean in the play!” Fenrys threw his head back and cackled, then urged them towards the school theater. “Bro, you’re—“

“I obviously knew that!” Rowan said, defensive.

He was just taking theater classes because his mom thought it’d help him with the shyness. But Aelin? Aelin Galathynius could give Margot Robbie a good run for her money—in both talent and beauty.

If enduring his crush on her during classes wasn’t enough, they were acting as husband and wife for this play.

And it required him to kiss her on the cheek.

He was glad that Mr. Emrys, their drama teacher, had a no-kids-kissing-on-stage policy. Rowan was half a lip virgin—that thing with Lyria didn’t count—and while having an almost first kiss with Aelin would’ve been great, he wasn’t looking forward to a very public cardiovascular malfunction.

Once inside, he quickly found her by a wall with Nehemia. Aelin didn’t see him at first, but he slowed his pace to look at her better, making Fenrys—who was right behind him—trip and take Rowan down with him. Not down, since both recovered before falling face-first on the floor, but the whole thing was loud enough that now he had Aelin’s attention. At the worst moment imaginable.

She smiled at him and sent a tiny wave, and by the poorly hidden smirk on Nehemia’s face—very similar to Fenrys’—she must’ve figured out his crush on Aelin. She had to. Nehemia Ytger was one of the smartest people he knew, he just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut for now.

Once everyone gathered around Mr. Emrys and he gave them directions for today, the first rehearsal for Hamlet began.

It passed like a blur until the scene arrived.

[Modified Act 1, Scene 2]

The court gathers. Claudius stands before the throne—simple practice chairs, actually—with Gertrude at his side. Hamlet watches from a distance, looking somber and disapproving.

Rowan didn’t want to read too much into why he learned even the narration. He turned to his “court” and said:

Though my dear brother’s death is fresh in memory, we must also move forward.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Gently holding Aelin’s hand, Rowan swallowed and almost froze when it was time, but her encouraging smile propelled him further.

He might’ve just dipped in and out, but feeling her skin under his lips was the quickest yet longest second of his life.

His cheek kiss was followed by deafening silence. For a second Rowan thought he’d embarrassed himself somehow, until he found everyone staring at Fenrys, waiting for Hamlet.

His friend looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I forgot.”

“A little more than kin, and less than kind, Moonbeam.” Mr. Emrys took a calming breath. “Let’s do another run of this scene, shall we?”

2nd run

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand again. Both experience and her open expression made him kiss her cheek more confidently this time, and he was calm enough to enjoy the moment.

The same awkward silence again.

“Mr. E, I have ADHD,” Fenrys protested, though the twitch in the corners of his mouth betrayed the seriousness. “Don’t you think it’s a bit fascist of you to make me learn all these lines in medieval?”

It’s called ‘Early Modern Common Tongue’, Moonbeam. You’ll learn with practice.” Mr. Emrys settled back into his seat. “Let’s do another run.”

4th run

By now, Rowan was very well practiced in kissing Aelin’s cheek.

Because of the political nature of their characters’ marriage, a greater actor would make Claudius give Gertrude a triumphant look rather than a fond one, but if Mr. Emrys wanted a great actor, he should’ve thought twice before casting Rowan.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

As practiced, he reverently took Aelin’s hand and leaned in for the cheek kiss.

But she turned her head. The spot on her cheek that he focused on became a blur, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the softness of her lips in his.

An awkward miscalculation on her part.

Or was it?

The way Rowan jerked back in surprise made their peck quicker than the other kisses.

“Whitethorn!” Mr. Emrys called, one finger pointed at him. “That was supposed to be on the cheek, mister.”

He froze, glancing wide-eyed between the teacher and Aelin’s mischievous look. He could protest and clarify that she was the one to incite the kiss, but that would just be loser—worse, virgin—behavior.

Rowan may be both, but he sure wasn’t acting like it.

With the snickers that came from the students, their teacher’s stance relaxed. He slowly shook his head and muttered, “Teenagers,” as a chuckle escaped him.

5th run

Rowan was determined to return Aelin’s peck, which meant that now stakes were higher. This time, he was even more nervous than before the rehearsal started.

She is cute. Rowan really likes her. And she kissed him first.

And this self-pep talk was shit at calming him down.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Instead of holding her hand, Rowan held her jaw instead. By their silent exchange, she had an inkling of what was coming, and her expression seemed welcoming. A quick brush of his thumb as another warning, and he leaned in.

Pillowy soft lips briefly against his was a brief shoot to the skies and back.

It was quick. It was glorious. The sweet, sticky feel of her lipgloss was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“A little more than kind, and—“

“Gods, Fenrys, it’s kin!” Nehemia shouted from the sidelines, distracting the teacher enough to forget about the kiss.

After this, Mr. Emrys stopped complaining—he had bigger battles to fight.

7th run

After their third kiss—plus four on the cheek—Rowan began to wonder if it was too soon for a “What are we?” conversation.

Maybe he should ask her out.

Scratch that, he was absolutely asking her out. If he got rejected, life would go on—after he changed schools.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan stroke her cheek with his thumb and leaned in once again for their peck, but once he did, Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and kept him there, tilted her head. She waited a second for his response, then retreated once it didn’t come.

Shit. Was this—

With hawk-like speed, Rowan grasped her face with both hands before she could draw back and… well, it was too much of a whirlwind inside his head to make sense of what was going on. All he knew was exploring tongues and her hands on his neck and his heart that threatened to leap out of his throat to interrupt the kiss.

He couldn’t believe he was kissing Aelin Galathynius, and she felt so soft. Soft lips, soft skin, a soft sigh that he felt in areas he’d rather forget to not embarrass himself.

“A little more than kin, and—HOLY SHIT”

The absolute silence turned into mayhem once Fenrys abruptly addressed what was going on. Once he did, the students howled and whistled at them.

However, the only reaction he cared about was Aelin’s, who stared at him with flushed cheeks and wide turquoise eyes that sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. She giggled and hid it behind her hand, and the sight of her nervous excitement brought a funny feeling to his stomach.

“Okay, that’s enough,” their teacher said to interrupt everyone’s shouts and cheers. “Moonbeam, you’ll arrive with your lines fully memorized next time—this is not a request. Everyone’s dismissed except for Whitethorn and Galathynius.”

The mood immediately sobered as students grabbed their things between whispers. It didn’t affect him like people thought it would, though. Rowan had just kissed Aelin—with tongue. Mr. Emrys could put him in detention ‘til eternity, he didn’t give a fuck.

They got ready to leave along with everyone else, but gathered around the chair their teacher was still on once the theater was empty.

A twitch of Mr. Emry’s lips into a firm line told them he was trying to get into ‘stern teacher’ mode. He’s not really the authoritative type, but they broke the rules, and it was in the job description that he plays a role for discipline’s sake.

“In the script, it says ‘kiss on the cheek’, and I need my actors to do exactly as scripted, okay?”

Rowan and Aelin both muttered their agreements.

“Great. If that—“ Mr. Emrys pointed at the spot their kiss happened. “happens again, I’ll have to take measures all three of us won’t like.”

“We understand.”

“Great.” He said in an upbeat mode, without his ‘stern teacher’ frown, switching back to ‘nice teacher’ mode. “Glad that’s settled. You can go now, but I want you in your best behavior from now on.”

The thing about Mr. Emrys is that he’s a really cool dude. He rarely gets angry at his students, most times it’s an odd sort of fond exasperation. It worked on their favor this time, but Rowan wouldn’t take it for granted.

Outside, Aelin stopped once the door was closed. So did he. The playful flirtation they had during rehearsal was gone, and Rowan was unsure on how to make a move in this awkward silence.

It was now or never, though.

Aelin chuckled and went her way down the hall, which he followed beside her.

“So, that happened.”

He gave her a brief, close-lipped smile. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” She swiftly looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Doyouwannagooutsometime?”

Rowan hoped the blood rushing into his cheeks wasn’t visible from outer space.

Aelin had both hands gripping the shoulder straps of her backpack as she fought the corners of her lips from quirking up.

“Sure,” she said. “Do you have something in mind? Because there’s this movie I really wanna watch—”

“We can watch it.”

Aelin bit her bottom lip, eyes brimming with amusement. “I haven’t told you which movie it is yet.”

He tilted his head, silently urging her to give the information.

Please, anything but that gorey demon one he saw last weekend.

“Do you wanna go see Healers vs. Demons?”

“Sounds great,” Rowan half-lied.

Any movie sounded great if it was on his first date with Aelin.

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[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 88 (Bringing Home a Ghost)

After Ghost Night ended at the Salty Paw, Heather, Conrad, and their new friend Felix Psyded left Fisherman's Wharf and returned to their home on Sable Square. Heather entered first, finding Hazel on the sofa watching TV. "Hey, how were the kids tonight?"

"They were great! Ashy said you guys usually read him two bedtime stories but he fell asleep after the first one, and Lava hasn't woken up since I put her to bed. I got to watch Moonlight Massacre after all! How was your night?"

"It was nice! We went looking for a man we didn't find, but we met someone else while we were there..."

Conrad walked inside the front door as Felix floated in behind them. Heather stood, as Hazel looked up from her phone in quiet awe. "Felix Psyded, Esquire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss."

"Hazel Moody-Nesbitt," she replied. "Heather's cooler younger sister. You're, like, really a ghost!"

"Since 1915." He warmly tipped his bowler hat. "May I say, you're stunning like your sister."

"You may say! But I'm married."

"Of course the lovely Nesbitt women would all be spoken for. Though I hope your husband is friendlier than Sargent Gordon."

Hazel laughed. "My wife is sweet, but Conrad's great! Are you the one guy in the world he doesn't get along with?"

Heather sighed, sliding over to make room for Conrad on the sofa. "They got off on the wrong foot."

"Well, why'd you bring him home? I know you love strays, but I didn't think that meant people who've been dead for over a century!"

"They've promised me a plate of ambrosia in exchange for my services."

Hazel gaped. "When you guys said you were doing this challenge I just thought it was, like, a team building exercise. I didn't think you were really going to resurrect anybody!"

Heather shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't we? We went through all that to learn how to do it, so we might as well help someone with unfinished business while were at it."

"So is that it, then? No one dies, they just get to live again with ambrosia?"

"Not everyone's unfinished business is to live again. Some die so old, with bodies so used and broken, living again isn't worth it. Even some of the younger ones. Everyone is different and fascinating in their own way, which is why I took to studying ghosts and their stories in the first place."

"He's going to help us figure out if Conrad met a ghost out on Deadgrass Isle."

Hazel grinned as Conrad stood to shoo one of their chickens back outside. "You're fighting crime by day and paranormal activity by night? Holly was right, Conrad. You're basically a superhero."

He blushed, and Felix turned a dour look in his direction. Ending the tense conversation in the living room, Hazel left to return home.

Heather and Conrad left Felix on the sofa and headed to bed. But before they'd changed into pajamas, she blurted her question with concern. "What's going on with you? I've never seen you snappier with anyone than you were tonight with Felix. Like I brought home two ghosts tonight instead of one."

"He was kind of acting like a dick."

Heather nodded. "And you met him there. That's not like you. Is it George Brindleton again?"

"No, George has been quiet. He and his wife spend a lot of the winter in Sulani every year." He could see Heather found this insufficient and kept talking. "I'm just dealing with a lot. I know I wasn't really myself tonight. There's this one case I can't crack and it's making me a little crazy."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I do, but I can't say much about it."

"I know. Confidential. But I want to give you whatever you need to be able to keep your work life at work, and not take the stress home. Not even for me and the kids, because you're so good to us. That's not the issue. I'm worried about you, and I want you to talk to me. The night we got engaged, you promised you would always tell me how you're feeling."

Joining her on the bed, he held her hand against his chest. "When I've finally solved the case, I'll tell you everything. I promise."

She grinned. "Not every gory detail, I hope."

"Do I ever? I don't want to think about the case tonight. I don't want to think about the ghost in our living room. All I want to focus on the rest of the night is you."

They made love before Heather fell asleep in Conrad's arms, (at least temporarily) satisfied by their conversation. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I debated whether or not to bring Felix Psyded and his lore into this generation because there's a university generation much, much later in this challenge, but Felix was the first ghost that showed up to Ghost Night, sat right next to them and was immediately enamoured with Heather. So my mind spun with a bunch of possibilities for him and I went for it, even though he's mentioned in urban legends for UBrite students and those obviously won't be canon to my timeline anymore.

The In Bloom challenge doesn't have anything related to Felix in the challenge rules, even in the university generation, and Reaper Rewards didn't even require use of the ambrosia Heather made. But I wasn't going to do all that and not fully finish what they started. They're not really the type to lure sims into a cowplant just to test whether ambrosia works, no one in my save needed to die and be brought back, and I have a plan now for Felix! @pixeldistractions mentioned a possible prequel flashback and I'll never say never, but setting up an early-20th Century photo save will take a while if I do it, so no promises. I am invested in him getting a happy ending to his second life, however!

[inknopewetrust]

𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

[𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 𝟕.𝟎𝟐𝐤]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟏 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟕.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

The weather had leveled out in the days that followed.

It sprinkled and poured, sleeted and hailed when the wind got bad enough but it was never a match from the stormed that brewed inside of you like the darkest magic taking hold. You weren’t sure if Hell was nicer than watching Dean weave his way into each town and flirt with all of the girls that looked his way but if it were up to you, you’d rather be there burning.

Every time you’d glance across the bar his eyes would be twinkling. Full of this mischievous fire swirling to lock onto a face he’d forget, a name he wouldn’t recall. For what? You rapped your fingers against the tabletop. There was no answer to the question.

Your “few days” had turned into a few weeks of hunting.

You’d taken every ounce of your vacation time without truly thinking of the consequences that laid in your path. No new stories, no angry emails from patrons across the states, no pressing concern from the higher-ups to come back to work. Those elements paled in comparison to sitting in a hole-in-the-wall wallowing with Sam as Dean fished for a catch—nevertheless it was a change of pace and a difference from what you had grown used to.

No one was reading The Supernatural Chronicles in December. It was out of season, unimportant. There was a lull and every part of your life besides the strange happenstances of the battles they chose to take on.

You didn’t think this small excursion at Sam’s call would have ended up with you sitting in the back of Baby a whole month later. You didn’t have enough clothes, you barely had time to call your landlord, and worse, your job was hanging by a thread. It stretched thin and every passing day kindling the twine to its thinnest string.

And then the skin-walker incident happened.

And the police were always hot on your tail… well, Sam and Dean’s tail… but mostly Dean’s.

The fights between you and Dean, however, were nothing short of familiar. You wallowed in choice as the day ended and the night rose. A one-hit-wonder played in the air around you; condensation ran along the edge of your glass to puddle on the coaster.

Sam’s head was buried in his father’s journal beside you.

John Winchester had been missing for months. Not a peep heard from Bobby to Ellen to the tiniest taps of his shoes but both of them continued to look as the mysteries took you around the states. Every hint John had laid bare in his journal ate away at Sam. It was as though the hints were unintentional, in many ways. Little crumbs to dead ends and situations that stole their attention away for not three-days at a time.

“What’s he sayin’ now?” You turned the straw in your drink to create a tornado.

“Dean’s sixteenth birthday,” Sam droned. “He ever tell you about that one?”

“The werewolf?”

Sam nodded and you recalled most of what Dean had ever told you—although he had been in your life, they both have, for a little over half of it—making it had to sift through the pages.

“Yeah,” you nodded faintly. “John made him take the lead. One of his first ‘big boy’ jobs, if you will.”

Sam snickered with a sly grin. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

You glanced in Dean’s direction again. He was occupied with a blond in a short jean skirt. “I doubt he’d hear it even if I shouted.”

Sam looked up and toward his brother in turn. Even if you had been playing a strong game, you wore it on your sleeve. Jealousy was an ugly bug for two people who seemed to be on different ends of planet earth.

“What was your favorite job?” Sam interjected the staring before it was too far gone. You peered into your glass.

“You mean a hunt or a real job? Like a job, job?”

“Hunt, I guess.”

“I’ve been on so many they seem to blur together sometimes.” Sam nodded in agreement as he closed John’s book. “I think I was… eighteen? Just turned eighteen. Do you remember when I graduated high school and Dean wanted to go roadtripping for a week?”

Sam noted fondly. “I remember how bad I wanted to go along, yeah.”

“Sorry about that,” you apologized half-heartedly. “But Dean took me up to Michigan and we spent a week in Munchkin Land.”

“Munchkin Land? Like the—“

“Wizard of Oz?” You finished. “There’s a graveyard with the remains of a bunch of kids—two girls in particular who were said to haunt the area because they’d been murdered by a priest and then the God fearing man killed himself out of remorse… or so they say.”

“What drew you there? Why go?”

“Dean caught wind of it, he said, through a New York Times article.”

“Oh,” Sam’s eyes widened slightly, brows going high.

“Turns out it was all… fake. A true urban legend of the area.”

“That’s not really a hunt then, is it?”

“No,” your hands drug against the tabletop and into your lap as you looked at Sam. He had bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept good in days. “But I think we were all a little happier back then.”

“It’s hard not to think about that,” Sam said quietly while the music drowned him out.

Everything was heavy. The world was weighing down and sitting pretty on top of the shoulders of the damned. If you had truly been granted a peaceful life, perhaps you’d be happy. Maybe Sam would have graduated, Dean would have a real job, and maybe you’d all have parents who loved and encouraged you.

“What was so great about Michigan? I mean, I’ve been there a few times now and I don’t think it’s too much to say that it’s no different than Illinois, or Wisconsin, or Indiana.”

“I guess it was just… we spent seven days weaving in and out of hunting and almost vacationing. It was normal. Or at least a normal as you could get. No motel, an actual hotel. It was on the cusp of fall and there’s truly no fall like a midwest one. There’s something that’s stuck with me. I can’t get rid of it even if I tried.”

Sam peered at Dean again.

“Does it bother you? If it’s any consolidation, he’s like this everywhere. Ever since he picked me up the first time, every place we go is the same.”

You shrugged. To tell Sam the truth? Never. He didn’t need to deal with petty things. A girl who can’t seem to get over an ex who seemed to do everything in his power to make her dislike him? Dean just reeled you in.

“Dean will be Dean. I’m not trying to control him.”

“No one can,” Sam scoffed. “But I do think dad going missing is weighing on him more than he lets on.”

“Tell me something new, Sam,” you swallowed your words with a sip of your drink. “John was the center of his world when you left and well before that. You know he was. It was like trying to keep a dog on a leash before it obliterates a squirrel just because it can.”

Sam furrowed his brows at you. Shaking your head, you dismissed it. “For another time.”

“I could read your journal and find out about it for myself,” he countered.

“And your hands will go missing in the night if you touch it, Sammy. I swear,” you groaned playfully, “you Winchester boys will be the death of me.”

“Not before we solve the case in Iowa.”

Ankeny, Iowa.

Dean read a local journal yesterday morning of a case where the suspect was already being tolled around as a “ghost.” The only witness was too terrified to be interviewed, too frightened to give a real description other than “ghost.” To anyone else it would have been plain and simple: she was crazy.

But those stories aren’t lore. They’re not lies nor is that victim crazy.

“Not before we solve the case in Iowa,” you repeated and sat up straighter at the mention of a case. It had summoned Dean unknowingly to the table. He moved with a casual sureness that he’d snagged a woman’s number wrapped in a bar napkin.

He tucked the white napkin into his pocket, lightly grinning as he chewed gum obnoxiously. Those eyes still gleamed in the low light of the bar.

“What’s with the mopey looks?” Dean questioned. He sat on the stool across from you and you pulled your drink closer as if to distract you.

“Just tired,” Sam covered. “We gotta get going, Dean. If we want to get there by ten we’ve gotta leave.”

Dean’s face contorted. “Oh, come on!”

“You wanted to take on this one!” Sam defended.

“We can’t just get a room somewhere here?”

“So you can hook up with some random girl you’ve just met?” Sam argued back. Dean’s eyes flicked to you but you weren’t looking at him. In actuality, you were looking everywhere but him.

Dean stressed to Sam silently to be more ‘aware’ of his surroundings yet Sam had little sympathy.

“No!” Dean offered exaggeratedly. “You said it, we could use the rest. We’re all tired.”

“Not tired enough to go to a bar, not tired enough to flirt with some no name—“

“—I know her name,” Dean lamented.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Sam challenged.

“Sam, come on,” you shook your head. Dean stuttered. He glimpsed back at the blond he had been talking to who wiggled her fingers in a wave toward him.

Dean turned back to you and Sam. “Alright fine. I don’t remember her name but it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You can make a girl feel really wanted that way.”

“I’m not looking to date her, sweetheart. I think we each deserve a little fun after all we do for the world. We’re heroes, practically.”

“Sure,” you agreed loosely. “But the second I’d go and hit on Mr. 401k over there—“ there was a man, a little older than you, dressed in a suit and drinking whisky on the other end of the bar from the blond. “—we’d be out the door without a second thought.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, elbows finding themselves on the table top and leaning in.

“Why is it such a big deal if I sack a broad, hm? As far as I’m concerned, there are no strings attached.” His finger motioned between the two of you.

“It’s not a big deal,” you swirled off the chair and landed your feet on the floor. “I don’t care what you do, Dean. And maybe work on your flattery a little bit? She deserves better than ‘broad.’”

Sam followed suit. “We’ve gotta go, Dean.”

Dean sighed. He leaned back on his own chair and ran a hand over his face. Eventually, he conceded. Jumping off his own chair and following behind you as Sam took the lead to exit the bar.

Dean loomed even if he wasn’t as tall as Sam. His presence was drawing, eclipsing the space around you as your shoes clattered on the rickety wooden floor to trail Sam. You didn’t dare stagger in step with him hot on your tail. His boots nearly nipping the backs of your shoes, he kept close as the three of your weaved through the patrons.

Reaching the end of the bar, you passed Mr. 401k who hadn’t even peaked in your direction but after you had passed, Dean’s elbow abruptly knocked into his back and sent his drink spilling into his lap. The man made a sound of ‘what the fuck, man?’

“So sorry! It was an accident,” Dean offered as he continued to walk past. You barely turned around to see the commotion when Dean’s hands rested on your shoulders and prompted you forward.

“Wha—“

“Nothin’,” he shrugged off and you felt the air shift. You were right. Dean’s immaturity leaked through like a sieve and you were reminded of why the world wasn’t kinder to your love before.

“Dean—“

“I thought you didn’t care?” He questioned with his voice low enough to hear over the music that still streamed from the bar. His hands slipped from your shoulders.

“You think he’s cute? Kinda your speed now, isn’t it?”

“You’re being childish. We have work to do. Why can’t you just put this one night to bed?”

“So you do,” Dean pressed as though he had cracked a larger case. He didn’t, but he felt like he did.

“Please,” you shook your head as Sam held open the door for you both. Breaching the threshold, you felt the cool air and could breathe again. “I don’t care what you do. But don’t pretend you don’t care about what I do. I’m not interested! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I don’t care!” Dean bickered after you like a seven-year-old. Baby was in sight and Sam was quick to get in the car.

You paused at the door handle of the back drivers side seat that you’d claimed as your own. Dean couldn’t see you as well through the mirror when you sat there and you could always make reactions to Sam from that side.

“If this is going to work then we need to be civil.”

“I have been being civil, sweetheart.” He stressed but was still aggravated. He may have been pent up, maybe grated by the snub of a lay.

“No,” you scoffed. “You haven’t and shit, neither have I but God, Dean, I think the last few hunts have been the worst I’ve ever been on because we fight all the time.”

“You’re gonna leave eventually,” Dean turned his body to rest his arms atop of Baby’s roof. “What’s the point?”

“Of being nice to each other?”

“You’ll go back to New York in what? Three weeks? And then who knows when we’ll see you again. With our luck maybe never so what’s the point?”

“I’d rather our last conversation together not be about hating each other. I don’t hate you, Dean.”

“Well that’s good,” he condemned. “But you don’t like me either.”

“I don’t think you like me very much either.”

Silence sat around Baby for what felt like the hundredth time since you joined them. You hated the silence that fell around Dean and yourself.

“In three weeks I’ll go back to my corner of the world and there’s a chance your dad will be back by then,” you laid out. “If you want to check in you can always call or call Bobby.”

“Bobby ain’t gonna tell me anything,” you looked at you as if to say ‘seriously?’

“You’re the closest thing he has to a son, Dean. He might love us both but he’s not evil enough to close us off.”

“No we just do that ourselves.”

“I don’t care if you sleep with other girls,” you brought up again. “But I’d appreciate a little courtesy. And in front of Sam? He doesn’t need to hear it either.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and looked out into the dark parking lot.

“It’s funny, you know… that this is where we’ve end up.”

“Three weeks,” you reminded him. “Then you don’t have to see me again.”

You opened the car door and slipped inside of the cab.

You can’t recall the last time you went to church on your own volition. The choice to spend time away from something more to pray to a power that had no proof of existence had befuddled you. It didn’t hurt that religious folk often soiled their own reputation with foot-in-mouth syndrome or the plain fact that the most devoted were the most wicked.

And you’d seen enough wickedness for one lifetime.

Sam and Dean had gathered that the victim turned out to be the reverends daughter in town. So, parked outside in Baby, the three of you scoped out the building before thinking of joining the service. Sam let the door close roughly behind him to where it squeaked on its hinges.

You slid into the pew behind Dean and looked around. The stained glass told the story of the damned rising to heaven on forgiveness.

“The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings,” the Reverend focused on his congregation. A girl in the front, brown haired and innocent, peered back to where Sam sat last.

It didn’t surprise you that she caught his eye. Sam bled empathy—a stark contrast to the harshness of Dean’s stoney face and unless she was looking for sympathy from a woman, she didn’t bother to pass over you.

Sam gave her a tight smile.

His kindness wasn’t enough to heal wounds or make a difference in her life then, but you could see the string of connection bloom. It was the case that sucked you in too much, the one you couldn’t leave behind in the end.

“So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.”

You didn’t feel the rays of Heaven bless you in prayer.

Once the service ended and the congregation exited their pews, Sam spotted Lori, the girl, outside along the sidewalk waving goodbye to her friend that had been sat beside her inside.

“So, what are we?” You asked Sam in the doorway.

“College students. We told the fraternity that we were brothers from another state so why change it. It worked, got us in.”

“Plus no badges, no investigations. We’re young enough.” Dean smiled widely at the two of you.

“Sam take the lead,” you stated. Sam nodded and walked around you to approach Lori. He stated the three of you as new transfer students with a knack for the Lord and what he offered.

“We don’t want to bother you,” Sam played the nervous, unwanted attention type well. “We heard about what happened.”

“And wanted to say how sorry we are,” Dean interjected.

“I kind of know what you’re going through. I kinda saw someone get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Behind Lori, her father watched cautiously as she conversed with the three of you. He watched Sam and Dean, not you. You never were the threat for so many of these men you’ve encountered over the years. The Reverend finished his conversation and put a hand on Lori’s back.

“Dad,” Lori turned to her father’s presence. She introduced Sam, Dean, and yourself. “They’re new students.”

Dean extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir. I must say that was an inspiring sermon.”

You could have thrown up from the lying. Dean had never been inspired by men of God. They had only ever looked at him, at John, as false prophets to a cause they wouldn’t recognize as real. As you had determined before, the God fearing people of the planet were the worst of their kind.

Her father pondered at the three of you carefully. He took in Sam and Dean, judging their clothes and their hair and their attitudes along with their statures that stood tall. The Reverend held no reverence for you—squashed in-between the brothers like a little kid.

A twenty-something-woman settled between two twenty-something-men and they didn’t look alike? A sin in his playbook.

“Thank you very much. It’s so very nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

Dean took the Reverend away from Sam and yourself. Lori, in the comfort of the two of you, shed light on what had happened and what she had heard and thought she’d seen. You thought she was holding herself remarkably well for someone who witnessed her date’s murder.

An hour later, Lori’s details had led you to strain your eyes over criminal records of the town. You knew two items to look: 1. It may have been the Hook Man’s urban legend and 2. It may also not be an urban legend but a ghost.

“I’ve got nothing but men murdering their wives and the odd death by horse,” you groaned into your hands as you rubbed your eyes.

Dean leaned back on his chair. He tossed his file folder further onto the table in defeat also.

“Nothin’” he reaffirmed. You could hear Sam’s sigh from behind you as he flipped through the pages of the next year.

“Hey,” Sam alerted. “Check this out.”

You turned in your chair as Dean took up a spot next to Sam. A preacher killed thirteen prostitutes after the immorality of the red light district had finally gotten to him. Dean picked up one of the pages that had old printings on it. He turned it in the direction of you who nodded after taking it in.

“Sounds like Jack the Ripper almost.”

“OoO,” Dean cooed. “I’d love to meet him.”

“So, nine mile road?” You questioned. “But what if he’s attached to Lori? He could go after her even if she’s not there.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “We’ll drop you outside of the sorority. You could just keep watch until we get back.”

Dean let out a laugh. “No way,”

You scowled at Dean. “Why not? That’s a fine plan.”

“We’re not leaving you out on sorority row on a Sunday night,” Dean came around from the bookcase and began cleaning up the files.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“Just leave her a gun and it will be fine.”

“We can just do this together, alright? I don’t know what’s so hard to understand about that.” Dean’s voice was gruff. The kind he’d use when he wanted something done his way over anyone else’s.

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “We need to cover ground. If she’s by Lori, then it’s one less life we have to worry about losing. What happens when the only girl who has seen this thing dies?”

“Then I’ll go. You two can go to nine mile road.”

“You are not sitting outside of a sorority house. If someone sees you, they’ll call the police,” Sam wanted to laugh but knew he couldn’t.

Dean closed the lid of the box with a long breath. “When we’re done, we are all staking out her place. Got it?”

Sam nodded, not willing to argue against his concession. Dean glanced at you and you could see the displeasure in his eyes. That stewing vexation; you were a bit peeved at his upset. Did he even have a right to be?

“I’m capable of more than this,” you told him as you stacked your box atop his. “Stop pretending that I’m incapable of what we’ve always know. It’s a ghost. It’s not going to kill us.”

“But wh—“

“But what about nothing. Nothing, Dean.” Sam graciously took the boxes back to the librarians desk to escape your conversation. “I asked us to be civil, not for you to be a bump in the road. We’ve faced worse than this.”

“Alright.” he walked off and left you at the table to clean up the rest.

No one would pick up the phone.

The voicemail kept replaying over and over. It’s generic, preset voice replaying the number and tone repeatedly until you had given up. You called five times and figured whatever had led them to not answer your call, it better have been better than this.

You were the one to hear Lori scream from inside the house.

Night had come and went with a snap and you woke between the trees of the fence and driveway to the sound of her screaming her lungs out on the second floor. An anonymous tip led the police to the sorority and while Lori had come out of the night unscathed, her roommate hadn’t.

Prompted again by the passing police men, you called Dean’s phone in hopes that he’d pick up. It rang twice and he did. He said your name through the receiver and it, for a brief moment, was the best sound you’d ever heard.

“Goddammit, Dean, where were you?” You spat into the phone. “I’ve been trying your phone all morning!”

“We got tied up with the brass,” he said casually on the other end.

“You were in jail?”

“We handled it. What’s the problem? Girls having pillow fights in their underwear?”

You removed the phone from your ear and closed your eyes. Dean never thought too hard into what he said. He was still twenty-one when his body became twenty-six.

“Lori’s roommate was killed,” you put the phone back to your ear. “If you two are doing dicking around maybe we can find this son of a bitch before it’s too late.”

Dean laughed. “Who lit the fire under your ass, sweetheart? I like it.”

“Just get here, please. I’m not sure how much longer they’re gonna accept the idea that I’m a pledge.”

“Nah,” Dean had a smile on his face. “You’ll pass just fine. You remember when I came to visit you at NYU? That Halloween—“

Dean removed the phone from his ear when the signal went dead. You’d hung up on him before he could finish and still had a victorious grin on his face while Sam looked on in slighted disappointment.

“You know,” Sam shook his head, “I really don’t get you two.”

“What?” Dean’s face drew flat at his brother. Sam weighed whether to go on as Dean’s words from weeks ago played through his memory.

“I don’t care if we grew up with her, I don’t care if we know her, I don’t care if everything goes to shit. You don’t get to talk about us.”

“I don’t know why you prod it like that.”

“Sam,” Dean scolded. “You say a lot of dumb shit sometimes but I never want to hear you say that again.”

“Poking the bear, I mean. Just be normal for once.”

“Just in case you haven’t noticed, Sam, but we’re not exactly normal to begin with.”

“I mean with her!” He exclaimed loudly. “You’re acting like a teenage boy who can’t get over his first crush. She knows what she’s doing and I wouldn’t have called her if I didn’t think she could.”

“We’re not having this conversation again,” Dean cut in. “I’m making amends. We’re trying to be civil—at least that’s what she said.”

“Then be a little less chauvinistic. Or for God sakes just treat her like a hunter if you can’t separate from having loved her once.”

“Be strangers… is that what you’re asking?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Dean went silent and Sam allowed it to settle. Baby’s roar drove them to the sorority house and to the back where you’d been standing beside the line of evergreen trees.

You let out a breath of relief at the sight.

“Jesus,” you muttered. “Took you long enough.”

“Can you get us in or do we have to, you know, climb the window?” Sam asked.

“There are girls in there yet. I don’t know why the police haven’t cleared the scene.”

“Because they haven’t faced something like this in years,” Dean tugged on the lattice along the siding. “They’re idiots. Real easy to convince that Sam’s a dumb ass pledge.”

Dean climbed up the lattice and went over the surrounding deck at the top. He motioned to Sam who tried to be inconspicuous as he climbed his tall, lanky body along the house. With you third, Dean grabbed your hand as you reached the top and helped tug you over.

Inside of making a comment or a chided facial expression, he dropped it and opened the window to the room.

The room was untouched from a morning interrupted. But the smell was unmistakable. It was a spirit.

“There,” you pointed to the bottom of the blood written message on the wall. “The cross.”

“I’ve seen that before,” Sam stated. Staring at it deeply, the image could have been hard to decipher had you had done the research before.

“The hook. It’s on the hook!”

“Karns’ pendant,” Dean ended the mystery.

“It’s a sigil, perhaps?” You questioned and the brother’s shrugged. Sam said he had papers scanned in Baby and recalled that Karns had a obituary attached to one of the scans.

And like the professionals you were, you slipped out of the sorority house and uncovered the story without anyone blinking an eye.

It began to drizzle the second you flipped on the flashlight.

Crickets chirping in the distance or beneath your feet, every branch tweaking or grass that blew the wrong way had you and Dean on high alert. Delegated with the task of burning and salting the bones of one Preacher Karns, Dean shouldered the bag of materials while you carried a flashlight and the shovel.

“Can I ask you a question?” Dean asked you as you followed a step behind.

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you answer Sam’s call?”

“I don’t know really,” you said honestly. “I had a feeling, I guess.”

“Intuition,” he pondered. “You didn’t see the caller id or…?”

“No.” You flashed the light along the graves scattered around you. None were unmarked. “I, well, I deleted your number from my phone after everything. I just… couldn’t.”

Dean nodded shallowly in understanding.

“He lied to me at first, you know? Said he was a reporter from a newspaper and that the front desk gave him the number. I thought it was a stupid mistake but maybe it was on purpose. Sam’s always been more intentional.”

“I don’t know he called you. I told him not to.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Dean.” With your flashlight, you walked around him and wandered through the graves.

“I know you think I’m an asshole,” he called after you. His steps catching up with the crunch of the grass. Dean’s shoulders were dusted with raindrops.

“Sometimes you are,” you answered honestly.

“And sometimes you’re a bitch,” he countered.

“I hope so,” you stopped again and flashed the light around. “You can’t always be a ‘nice girl’ and get what you want. Sometimes, you’ve got to be a right bitch and so be it.”

Dean never thought of the world that way. He’d been so focused on what he had known, what he had learned to know through his father and if his mother had lived a long life, he’d understand women like you better.

“When we find my dad, maybe we could start over.”

His words took you aback. Start over? For what? To when? There was no world in which you could start over with Dean Winchester. He’d follow you into every lifetime, every decade, and every story but you’d never start over.

“You really think having your dad back is going to make our lives easier?”

“Yeah,” he believed so. “But I know he doesn’t want to be found. That’s why he’s sending us on a goose chase.”

“Then maybe we can’t start over.”

“What do you, uh,” Dean steered the conversation as the graves around you went moot again, “think Sam’s up to?”

“Probably watching over her just like he said he would. Sam isn’t the lying type, you know that.”

“Remember how I told you about Jessica?”

“His girlfriend?” You recalled. “Yeah.”

“And how he wasn’t sleeping well?”

“You said he wasn’t doing well. Those are two separate things, Dean.”

“For the past two weeks, he hasn’t sleep a whole night.”

You kept looking around you until finally, you spotted the grave marked by the same symbol. You tipped your head in the direction of the grave illuminated by your flashlight and Dean dropped the bag.

“I’m going to assume you know that because you’re not sleeping either?” It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Well someone took the bed I was using… the floor isn’t great.”

The second night on the road was the first time Dean had been decent to you since you reunited. Without a fight, he had offered you the bed he claimed every time and took the floor. It felt wrong but he wouldn’t listen to an argument. He simply took the pillows from the side he’d always claim as his own and laid them down at the foot of the bed.

“I told you that you didn’t have to sleep on the floor,” you defended. Dean took the shovel and broke ground.

“You know what happens when we share a bed, sweetheart.”

“Anyway,” you motioned for him to continue with a roll of your eyes. “Sam?”

“I was just gonna say that I think he’s projecting on this girl.” You kicked clumps of grass out of the way.

“They have something in common at least. Not to mention that she’s not going bat-shit-crazy for seeing what she has. Lori’s… fine, by all means of the word.”

Dean paused digging for a second to shed his leather jacket. You took it from his hands and laid it across a headstone not far from where you were standing.

“We need to be looking out for him. I-can’t explain it. I can feel it. Like how you felt something about answering the call. It’s stupid—“

“It’s not stupid, Dean. It’s alright,” you reassured. He didn’t deserve your security. “We have each others backs no matter what, yeah?”

Dean ducked his head to pick the ground with the shovel. As he gripped the handle, you couldn’t help but look at the way his arms tightened and the lines became more prominent.

“If you’ve got my back, you think you could grab the shovel in the bag and start digging? Otherwise this is gonna take me all night.”

You smiled at him honestly for the first time in awhile.

“Sure. Let’s burn this son of a bitch.”

Everything had gotten worse after you had burnt and salted the bones with Dean.

It hadn’t solved anything.

Lori’s father had been attacked after Sam unveiled the Reverend’s own immorality that Lori deemed sinful. It was clear that Lori was the summoner—or at least the living attachment the poltergeist had to this world. It was also abundantly clear after Sam asked about the hook that a piece of this monster was still roaming the earth, even if not made of flesh and bone.

You knew there was no hook. Surely Dean would have made a comment, tried it on for shits and giggles before burning the bones. But he hadn’t and when Sam called panicked at the local hospital, it gave neither of you time to process that the feature hadn’t been there.

“What do you think happened to it?” Dean asked Sam with worry on his face that this may be the first case in a long time they couldn’t solve.

“His belongings were returned to the church.”

“The church where Lori’s dad’s a Reverend?”

“The same one,” Sam saw a silver lining. Although, it did not mean the hook was there or even in its original form.

“We could rip that place apart and still never find it,” you interjected. “What material was it made from?”

“Silver,” Sam informed.

“Think about it,” you folded your arms in front of you. “It’s 1860, it’s a church in a small community… you think they get silver like that everyday?”

“Reforged?” Dean inquired.

“That’s the best bet, wouldn’t it be? Felon’s items are donated, can’t keep the murder weapons—the public wouldn’t have liked that. Church needs to keep up its image after their Preacher goes on a spree… reforge. Forget it happened.”

“We could burn the silver in the furnace. I’m sure it’s hot enough.” Sam and Dean were quick to make an exit which had you scrambling behind.

“That could be thousands of pieces of silver!”

“You said it yourself!” Sam called out to you. “It’s a small town church!”

There was a frantic pace to the gathering. Everything from candlesticks to crucifixes to the handles of drawers needed to be sifted through in minutes.

Your hands tossed whatever silver you could find down the stairs to the basement to where Dean threw them in the furnace. Sam tossed you a chalice that looked like something out of Indiana Jones.

You threw it down the stairs and heard Dean go: “hey! This is like—“ and you felt the sentiment of starting over to grow even more impossible. Sam had left and come back in seconds with nothing more in his hands.

“I got nothing,” he panted as the sounds of Dean’s clattering went quiet.

“That it?” Dean shouted from the basement.

“That’s it,” you responded as Sam and yourself joined him beside the furnace.

“If this doesn’t do it, I don’t know what else could.”

“The a-“ your words got lost in space as the ceiling began to creak and the dirt between the boards rained down on you. Sam took the lead up the steps and with a peak, the back of Lori’s head sat in one of the pews near the front of the church.

Sam motioned for you and Dean to fall back and although Dean wanted to keep Sam in his sights, he walked back into the basement to watch the silver burn.

“He’ll be ok, Dean,” you soothed. “Sam can handle himself too.”

“I know he can,” he replied more aggravated than he should have. “I know.”

He paced around the basement to look for more silver. Dean grabbed a couple items and tossed them into the furnace.

“Too bad all this silver is going to waste… could’ve paid for better motels,” you attempted to joke but he didn’t budge.

“I just want to pro—“ this time, a shriek cut Dean off.

Above you, the thunderous roar of footsteps began to escalate around the exit of the church. The walls shook as they took the brunt of the blow from what you were both quick to assume was Jacob Karns finally manifesting himself for the end.

“Sam!” Dean yelled as he sprinted to his bag and grabbed the shotgun loaded with rock salt. “Stay here!” He shouted at you.

“Tough shit, Dean!” You argued back as you followed him up the steps and grabbed a fire poker on the way out. You knew it was worthless against a spirit like Karns but it was better than empty hands.

Through the wide halls of the church, the carpets bunched up as the speed of which Dean was running made them hazards. He followed the sounds of Lori’s screams, the grunts of Sam, and the damage of Karns’ destruction.

“Sam, drop!” Dean rose the shotgun and fired a blow into Karns’ back. He disappeared for a moment.

“I thought we got all the silver!” Sam panted.

“So did we!”

“Lori,” you caught your breath. “Where did you get that necklace?” Everyone’s eyes went to her chest as a cross laid in silver dangling on a matching chain.

“My father gave it to me?”

“Where’d your dad get it?” Dean was quick to ask.

“He said it was a church heirloom!”

“Is it silver?” Sam pressed.

“Yes!” She panicked. Sam grabbed the necklace from her neck and tugged hard which allowed it to break.

Behind you, the cracking of the drywall split with the hook of Karns. Dean turned his head, watching it break into pieces and itch its way closer and closer. He grabbed your arm and pulled you in tightly.

“We’ve got to get to the furnace,” you told him. “That’s it. I know it is.”

“Give me the necklace Sam,” Dean swapped his shotgun for the necklace and Karns’ hook reappeared on the ceiling to the Reverend’s quarters.

“Go!” Sam yelled at Dean who stumbled on his feet to get around you. You remained with Sam and Lori, guiding her and yourself around the desk as Sam tried to stand with an injured arm and fire the gun.

“Come on,” you muttered as the ghost appeared before you. Sam raised his hand but the gun was knocked from him in a weak toss.

There was nothing standing between you and the afterlife besides Dean.

You backed up as far as you could go beside Sam and Lori—the latter who hadn’t stopped panicking the entire time. Sam scrambled into your legs and wedged his body above your foot.

This hunt had been the definition of easy sans this moment. These were always the moments where you wished you were at home in your bed and safe from the world that existed in the nether between here and there.

“Sam!” You shouted at him as though he could do anything more than you.

“Come on, Dean!” Sam prayed.

And then like a crackle from a tiny spark, you heard it. A fire ignited beneath Karns. It caught on his clothes and hair; hook melted into thin air as the burn of Lori’s cross finally sent him away for good. At peace in the in between.

Dean sprinted up the steps and ran as quickly as he could to the office where he’d left the three of you. The relief washed over him as three sets of eyes met his safe and relatively unharmed.

You felt Sam sag against your leg and you knew it was over.

In the back of Baby, you sat adding to your own journal the events of the week.

Dean sat in the drivers seat while Sam said his goodbyes to a girl he’d never see again. The radio was playing faintly while the windows cracked let in the cool air of Iowa.

It was quiet and content and at ease with the visitors inside of the Impala.

Dean watched in his side mirror Sam hesitate around Lori. His schoolboy stance with his bag slung over his shoulder and his hair falling into his face; Sam shuffled on his feet.

He was nervous, but he was himself. And that was something Dean couldn’t say about himself.

The eldest Winchester peered into the rear view and thought for a moment that they could stay. That this small little town could bridge a gap that Sam had been longing for and bring some normalcy in their very ‘not normal’ lives.

He saw you in the back picking apart your writing which only made him think of the career you left behind for them.

Dean felt guilty for not giving what was necessary. However, he couldn’t provide it. He couldn’t will it within him to bargain an honest offer other than, “we could stay?” to Sam as he sat in the passenger seat and you strapped on your seatbelt.

The obvious answer would always be no.

Because with the Winchester’s, there was no place to call home.

[animeshotsh]

Chubby Love | Various x Chubby!Reader

Summary: Sinners comes in all forms.

Warnings/notes: Chubby!reader - Mentions of insecurity - Reader has a body type - Reader sinner form is described!! - grammar mistakes -

Lucifer

He falls hard and does fall for real.

He was flying around, trying to clear up his mind when he noticed you. Your round cute form looked squishy from above, he took notice of your two reptail tails and how some other sinners seemed to be about to attack you.

In other times he would not care, but he decides to go down and put some orden.

Only to find out you are really badass and used your two tails to trow away these lowlifes.

Satan you almost hit him too.

And then he believes he has died. Because your suprised and blushed face greets him as you apologies to the king of hell himself for almost hitting him.

Him? He is in cloud nine. Please, he loves his S/O bigger than him, by all means hurt him, he is sure lust has made its away over him.

But no time for it!! He must be a gentlemen and says its alright then offers you help with your things.

And from there is all a love story. Lucifer is a gentle lover and a slow one. While he likes you he wants you to feel safe around him first.

His flirt is subtle yet noticianble so no one dares to try and get you.

When you two start to date this man is in cloud nine. He will hug you all the time, pressing his hands on your sides (asking if you feel ok with it) leaving kisses on your tummy and cheecks.

If he ever sees you feeling down then he is there to say the most cheesy yet loving things about you. Its not only your physical apparence but all of you. Your voice, personality, hobbies, likes...he could make up a song and play it for you.

Alastor / Cannibal tendencies

Listen. Alastor is cruel and actually likes big sinners because its more flesh. Its pure luck you meet him at the hotel where he cant hurt you.

But, heavens you have him salivating from time 0.

Your sheep like sinner form does not help. All that wool around you its making feel like a predator, eyes dark and theeth sharp.

Its only when he ends meeting you for real and having to pass time with you that his desire to eat you leaves.

His desire is different now. He cant put it in words but he cares about you. And only you.

His shadows are more open and will go after you to play with your hair and pull your wool. Hell they would even cuddle.

Alastor insists its them being them and will have a hard talk later.

Not that he dreams he could lay his head on your tummy and feel your soft wool. Nono, of course not!! Or how he wishes he could try just a bit of your flesh.

You would be part of him forever, right? Well he sees it that way.

Protective like hell. This man is know for being an ass to everybody so he wont let anyone be that to you.

No one will ever think on being that with you, everybody fears him.

Vox does a side comment about your body and his place gets attacked by a full form Alastor who does not kill him yet but does leave him pretty much hurt.

Vox

You probably work for him, having robot part did help you get the job. Plus you can turn yourself into a full ball and pretty much crush anyone and also go fast to pass messages that cant be trusted online under the risk of hackers.

Vox trust you so much and honestly never looked too much into how more or less chubby you are

You do your work well, amazing and he trusts you so much.

He would probably notice he is falling for you because of how you seem to appear in his records over and over.

Its not shy to ask you out and is rather direct about how he wants a serious relationship with you.

Stolas / Not married /

Imagine a big colorfull bird, with six eyes and two pair of wings.

Thats you.

Stolas falls hard. He meets you during a gala and does a double take when he sees you pass.

Its going towards you in seconds. And starts talking and falling over his words. Its only when you laught that he seems to relax.

Then he hears whispering from Stella and her friends (god he is so glad he was able to get out of that compromise). Turns to you to see you looking sad but trying to play it cool.

Decides to take you to a place with less peopel and asks his trustful servants to get him the best alcohol.

You two end talking and just talking, you open up about sometimes feeling bad because of what other says and how society expects you to be a centrain way.

He also opens up about his own insecurities and so you two bond.

You two start as friends but soon start dating. Its a fluff and soft relationstip. Stolas loves to show you his magic and also gets you the best clothes in the nine circles.

He is a cuddle monster and will pass all morning hugging you.

Getting his garden bigger and bigger its your favorite activity, you two can relax and be yourselfs.

Charlie x Reader x Vaggie / Platonic

Charlie meets you in the streets after a bad date. You have been crying a lot and its notable.

She asks you if you need help and offers you to stay ar the hotel with her and the rest.

Charlie knows you stand out, its not only your shape but also how colorfull for a sinner you are, while you are shy and quiet.

Vaggie also opens her arms to you. Maybe its her angel self looking out for you, but she just loves how you are.

Its normal to see you with Charlie or with her both inside and outside the hotel.

Husk

Dear satan Husk is lovesick the moment you walk inside the hotel.

Blames it to your mouse atributes and his own more like sinner form then accepts he is most likely bad heads for you.

Dating you its easy. He is actually an easy partner. Loves to cuddle and wrap his wings around you whenever he can. Whispers the most sweet thins so only you can hear. And when he can, he likes to tangle his tail with yours.

Angel Dust

Oh him....he sees you and says FUCK out loud.

Because DAM you do rock.

Maybe you dont think it yourself, but Angel tells you how sexy you are and dies inside seeing your blush.

Dies more if you flirt back.

Loves to use all his arms to hug you and pull you for kisses. When you two are in the open one of his hands will be on you.

~~~~~~~~~~

[smallishzine]

very important official zine stuff for real this time guys please spread this around

we realized we haven’t asked you what you want this zine to be, so here is poll with some different options for things we could do, but this still won’t set things in stone cause we’re aware that we’re working with a relatively small albeit amazing awesome and extremely appreciated audience, but it’ll give us a good idea for what direction you want the zine to go in.

some examples of what we mean for added coherence, please read before voting unless you wanna be like that guy in the Simpsons movie:

an eras tour zine (yes this is a Taylor swift joke shut up if you’re judging us you’re wrong) would be like different pieces dedicated to each, for lack of a better word, “thing” that Joel has done. @/inthelittlezine is a great example of this concept, except the mod has far better organizational skills than we ever could hope to

tourism brochure would be like we pick a specific thing Joel, such as esmp 1 or 2, or x life, or one of his hardcore/survival worlds (I haven’t listed Hermitcraft season 10 cause that’s still in progress but if you guys really really wanna, that too), and make an in universe guide to it expanding upon the lore and characters and builds and stuff. @/scarland-artbook is an amazing example of this, though of course we would be a much smaller scale of a project.

do you wanna tell a story? Or ride our bikes around the halls? We can’t help with the second one, we’re not very sporty people, but this option is both the most difficult and dangerous to the success of the zine, and the one that intrigues me specifically the most. Like, guys, I know I’m polling this, but I’m secretly hoping that this one wins. Like all the hoping. Ever. But I’m not gonna just say yeah let’s do this because if like only three people also wanna this zine will never get made and I will be really, really sad. This option is basically do we wanna take something Joel has done and work together to create an original universe/story based off of it, each contributing a small part of the story in comic or writing form. Unless you’ve been living under a rock and/or this post broke containment sorry if it did I assure I’m usually mostly sane, you probably know where I’m shamelessly stealing taking inspiration from. We heart you @/hotguycomiczine. If we went with this we would obviously create our own universe and storyline, and we’d try to base it off of one of Joel’s characters if possible. Also, if we went with this, we’d start the mod and application process and stuff and once we knew everyone who was going to be in the zine then we’d all get together and start working on the story, and this is the part I’m worried about because if we’re all stumped then I guess the zine is out of luck and I’d be sad. Also even if we did do this, like preemptively temper your expectations I am no where near as good as the legends at hotguycomiczine at organization and promotion and story writing and all that good stuff. However, if you have an idea for a story and want to share, send us an ask cause we might just end up using it.

I think the last two are mostly self explanatory.

please reblog for reach.

[pinkystyro]

The small talk. - Satoru Gojo. ִֶָ࣪☾.

꩜ STORY CONTEXT: You are the boss of a bakery where Gojo works as a waiter, but lately he hasn't been doing his job properly, so you call him to your office to have a talk with him, which ends in a very different way than you expected.

꩜ WHAT INCLUDES : Satoru Gojoxfem(reader), 3rd person, smut, OneShot dirty names, spanking, cum out, submissive reader, dominant Satoru Gojo, fingering, moaning, teasing, NSFW!!

Enjoy pookies!

₊˚ෆ I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE A LIKE AND A REBLOG !

You wake up on another morning, wash your face as usual and have your delicious coffee with milk and your usual toast. You get dressed and get ready to go to work, combing your hair delicately and applying makeup to your eyelashes carefully and perfectly, you moisturize and give shine to your lips with a pink balm that leaves a slight color on them.

Getting into your car you head to your office, you are the boss of a large food chain business, specifically a bakery.

You thought with determination trying to remember the pending tasks you had for that day “›Fix bathroom door…check warehouse…and something related to Gojo…shit…now I don’t remember well what it was about!!’’

Gojo was a waiter with white hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes who had been working in the bakery for a few months. He was quite attractive, you couldn’t deny feeling attracted to him…it was something inevitable!

You arrived at your shop, you greeted everyone except Gojo, why? Because he wasn't there, he was late AGAIN..

You let out an exhausted sigh and asked listlessly “What happened to Gojo this time?” Everyone looked at you with a face of having no idea why Gojo was late.

You entered your office and left your things on your desk, sitting down in your chair and turning on your computer to check your daily tasks. One of them was to have a chat with Mr. Gojo, since lately his performance had been declining and inefficient, you wanted to know if everything was okay, and there was even the idea of ​​firing him, because not only was he late and often didn’t even show up, but sometimes he fell asleep at work, he spent time distracted, either with his cell phone or showing off with clients… For these reasons, it was necessary to have a professional chat with him about his behavior. So you set about doing the other pending tasks you had while you waited for Gojo to show up.

“..Replenish strawberry frosting..done, call the plumber, done! I only have to talk to Gojo..I’ll go see if he’s arrived yet..” You left your office to find the boy sitting on a stool using his cell phone..

“Satoru Gojo!! To my office immediately!!” You said a little upset and after giving the announcement you turned around, entering your office and taking a seat in your desk chair.

Gojo immediately stood up, following you to your office and closing the door behind him. He stood in front of you and your desk. “Tell me Miss Y/N...what can I do for you?” Gojo said, looking at you somewhat nervously, his eyes scanning your body and your hands that had your fingers intertwined, trying to stay calm.

“Take a seat, this is going to take time..” You said looking at the files on your computer and returning your gaze to the boy once you had opened the file called -Satoru Gojo.- While you skimmed what the file said, you let out a sigh as your eyes met the boy's “I feel disappointed Gojo..” You said in a calm tone, without breaking eye contact. “Your performance at work has dropped, your good behavior and discipline…what happened?” You said as a rhetorical question as you stood up and leaned on the table in front of Gojo. “You’re on your phone every time I look in your direction, your waffles burn, your coffee overflows…and most importantly, you flirt too much with the customers…”

Satoru Gojo looked at you in astonishment and with a satisfied smile, raising an eyebrow he said “You’re right, I haven’t been the best worker, but I think you’re jealous, heh!” He said with a superior air as he bit his lower lip with a mischievous smile.

“Excuse me? Jealous? Could you argue that please?” You said formally, trying to maintain patience and composure, as you couldn’t believe what he had said, although he was partly right, seeing him flirt with the customers caused a kind of annoyance in you that you couldn’t explain.

“You say that the most important reason for all this is the fact that I flirt with female clients… that means you are jealous, isn’t it?” The young man said, getting up from his seat, standing in front of you with his arms crossed while licking his lips that formed a smile on his face. “Don’t worry Boss, you are much more beautiful than any of our clients.” He said, getting closer to you, resting his hands on the desk while looking into your eyes with a flirtatious smile.

“No.. I meant it that way.. you misunderstood me.. I eh..” You wanted to speak but you were so nervous.. his eyes met yours, your cheeks blushed and your nerves made you bite your lip.. shit.

“No? So you're saying that if I come closer to kiss you right now, you'd reject the kiss?” Gojo placed his thumb and index fingers on your chin as he raised it slightly to bring his lips closer to yours and make you maintain eye contact even more with his eyes.

“Well...I...” The young man left you completely speechless, you didn't know how to react, you didn't know what to say, you stood completely frozen in front of his lips, wishing they would finally meet yours.. “No...I wouldn't deny you the kiss..”

Gojo's lips formed a mischievous smile and then he said “That's what I wanted to hear.” he said in a seductive tone before joining his lips with yours in a kiss full of passion. Your lips returned his kiss without any resistance.

His hands moved to your waist, having a strong grip on it to intensify the kiss that soon became a wet one, with your tongues coming together, he bit your lip playfully as he brought you closer to his body. Your breasts pressed against his torso, your hands running down his neck, down his collarbone to his shoulders.

His hands went down to your hip where he slightly raised you to rest your butt on the table and continue kissing you. Your fingers intertwined in his hair as you kissed him intensely. His hands ran over every curve of your body, admiring how submissive you had become to his touch.

His hands rose to the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning them one by one, thus revealing your bra that Gojo quickly unbuttoned and threw to the floor, leaving your breasts exposed to his eyes. He grabbed one of them with one hand and began to move his kisses down your neck, towards your collarbone, while squeezing your nipple with his fingers, to finally begin to kiss the birth of your breasts and move towards the nipple, which soon ended up being licked and bitten by the boy.

Your body was shaking at his actions on you, legs shaking, your private part wet, sighs of pleasure that you let out... god, you were in heaven...

Gojo finally took off your shirt, still playing with your breasts... You slid your hands inside his shirt, taking it off too, caressing his shoulders and shoulder blades while he devoured your breasts desperately...

One of his hands that was holding one of your breasts slid up your thigh, taking off your underwear while you bit your lip from the embarrassment you felt from being so wet...

His hand slid down, pressing his middle finger against your clit while with the other hand he pinched your nipple and kissed you intensely.

His finger began to rub your clitoris lightly, while he slowly increased the speed, making you feel an indescribable pleasure..

Between kisses, you let out soft moans of pleasure..His hand rubbed intensely while the one that squeezed your nipple moved towards your face, positioning it on your cheek while he kissed you more passionately..

His fingers proceeded to insert themselves inside you, immersing you in immense pleasure..body trembling, moans coming out of your mouth, blushing cheeks..this was perfect..

You stretched your arm as best you could to unbuckle his belt and then his pants..thus removing his pants and underwear..revealing a large member that was hard as a rock from seeing you so excited.

“I want to hear you beg me to put it inside your pussy, show me your dark side boss..” Gojo said in a deep voice, as he bent his fingers to touch your G-spot..

Your back arched at that movement, losing complete control of your moans and your dignity.. In a soft and embarrassed tone you said “..please..I need you to put it inside me..now..”

Those words were enough for Gojo to take his fingers out of you and turn you around, pressing your face against the desk, lifting your skirt and revealing your ass, which for him was beautiful..

He spanked you and then placed the tip of his member aligned with the entrance of your pussy..holding you by the hips, he introduced his large member inside you, which made you let out a loud moan and then cover your mouth in shame.

He started to make movements back and forth, sliding his member inside your wet pussy, fucking you hard against the desk..

You couldn't stop your body from shaking, your moans flooded the room completely, Gojo's member hit hard inside you while sighs of pleasure came out of his lips.. “Y/n..your pussy feels incredible.” Gojo said in a hot tone, without stopping the constant movements inside you..

“oh god..Gojo..I'm going to..I'm about to..oh god..I'm going to cum..I can't take it anymore..” you said with your legs shaking, noticing how your pussy shuddered around his cock..

“Do it..make my cock wetter..let everyone know that I'm the one who fucks your pussy the best..” Gojo said, increasing the speed of his thrusts, noticing how your pussy shuddered more and more around his big cock..

You couldn't take it anymore and you came..leaving the office floor and young Satoru Gojo's cock completely soaked..”God..I'm going to cum anyway..” Gojo said before taking his cock out of you to shoot his cum all over your ass.

You both remained catching your breath for a few seconds before Gojo opened his mouth and said “Well..I hope this settles the matter, Boss.” He said pulling up his pants and then putting on his shirt to go back to work “I'm going back to work..if you need to fix anything else, let me know.” he said before giving you one last kiss while grabbing your buttocks tightly.

After that, the boy walked out of your office door, closing it behind him, leaving you completely satisfied and with the clear idea that you were not going to fire Satoru Gojo... in fact, you would need more talks like that with him.

[doc-hudson]

This whole situation was rather curious, but the thing that Paul found the most fascinating was how laid-back Collette was, her laugh.

She struck him as the kind of person that made things feel...simple, that seemed to walk on air, had an unwavering, contagious, kind of ease.

Meeting someone like that was always nice, it kind of reminded him that not everything was tinted in grayish colours like his mind sometimes made him believe, that there was still people around that didn't just saw things differently but could also make others look through their eyes for a minute.

Swynlake had played a trick on her and she laughed, the actual direction of the West evaded her and she smiled like it was no big deal. It was...admirable, in a way.

"Pleasure 's all mine, really" Paul said with a smile of his own, slowly relaxing as they walked, eventually reaching the tea shop's door "and 'm all ears"

It must be an interesting story (and if it wasn't then surely she would find a way to make it sound so anyways).

"How's Swynlake so far, are you likin' it?" he asked, figuring that while simple, it seemed like a good question (one that wasn't terribly invasive) as he opened the door for her, then followed her inside.

"Well, here we are! Town's quintessential hangin' spot and best seller, Hatter's. Wanna take a look at the menu?"

@collette-richards

it’s my season | open

[trickstarbrave]

for the malacath vs nerevar fight..... what if vemyn and gilvoth were there?

theyre the two oldest brothers and i think they would want to ensure the dwemer king is being guarded properly as well that everything with negotiations between the orcs, dwemer, and chimer goes well. esp since they think the orcs wont agree easily (they think the orcs are likely just to kill everyone so in that event they wanna take dumac and voryn and gtfo)

however. they will witness nerevar trying to fight malacath. mainly theyre holding voryn back and they are actually a bit anxious. like yes, on one hand they want nerevar to die, but they know its going to destroy voryn to see a daedric prince kill his lover

and then they see nerevar win. with his heart beating with an unnerving tone they can all hear.

and they all realize exactly why morvani gave their relationship her blessing. why she told voryn to guard nerevar completely and not let anyone else get their hands on him. there is something otherworldly about him, something dangerous that cant fall in the wrong hands. hes powerful enough to defeat a daedric prince, what else can he fucking do?

[gojooooo]

man i love open endings. the fact that thanks to yuuji there might indeed be the next time sukuna talks about in case some idiot decides to eat a finger again. and we need fics where yuuji is that idiot

[suffarustuffaru]

ok now that i caught up on a few asks (ill be back later!!) i got an awful awful omegaverse detail to share. i really like the omegaverse au rezero takes on here, yall have such interesting ideas. but okay i got one—

otto should be an alpha.

OKAY now hear me out for a second. i 1000% agree that otto being a beta makes absolute perfect sense. even though his personality is kinda loud sometimes, hes usually just kinda There. you know? hes always in the support role and he usually doesnt draw attention to himself. always stuck in the background and in the shadows 👍 he also wants a nice comfortable life. hes wanted to fit in throughout childhood. he takes care not to make others hate him (unless hes being impulsive/reckless). etc etc.

he knows that he fits the beta role to a T. thats why if he was anything BUT a beta, he’d be pretending to BE a beta.

this is because otto being an alpha exacerbates all the issues he develops by the time you get to arc 8. because otto is THE worst person to be an alpha. he doesnt fit the stereotype and the usual alpha at all. hes not very powerful. hes easy to make fun of and humiliate. hes not very dominant either. he tries to say all sorts of stuff in arc 8 and assert his place there and more than half the time he gets shrugged off because hes being dumb and no ones gonna do some of the shit he says. hes got a gazillion different complexes now about being useless and about being Secondary and he gets desperate so hes like “well i can walk in darkness though. im useful!! i swear!! this is what i can do!! everyone else is wrong!!”

so of course otto would pretend hes not an alpha because he is The complete opposite of what the “perfect” alpha should be. as hes growing up he would be like judged for that sort of thing, you know? and then he’d decide its more convenient to go on blockers or whatever and pretend to be a beta because betas are Normal. betas dont get noticed that much. not much is expected of you besides being the Support, right? depending on how you wanna interpret omegaverse politics wkdnd. and ottos like oh yeah. i wanna be seen as normal. and if i cant be a good alpha, if i cant be what an alpha should be, im gonna be a good alpha via playing the support role!! and theyll all know im dependable and useful and theyll need me and i can revel in the fact that they dont know im an alpha!! but im outplaying them!! i got them to need me!! my tactics have made ME the secret alpha controlling everything!! this is perfect!! im a good alpha!! i came out on top still!!! this is great!!

and then arc 8 comes along and it ruins everything and otto is back to being the absolute worst alpha of all time that everyone thinks is a beta anyway because hes 1. made this a self-fulfilling prophecy and 2. literally no one is gonna look at him and think “oh hes alpha material” after all this time. and after all his arc 8 shittery.

yeah so anyway then otto explodes with rage because his stupid alpha ass is like oughhhh ohhhhh ouhhhh my god im not in control anymore im not dependable anymore im not a good support anymore!!!!! no one takes me seriously!!!!! ill show them!!! ill show them all!!

also he probably thought of subaru as. as his omega. and subaru wouldnt even know because after all my good buddy pal otto is a beta 👍

[misanderousmisfit]